#i've been looking forward to this chapter for a long time and i buried the important part under a goofy villain with formatted dialogue

[myloveer0]

''Dream at first lust''

(Ambessa x reader NsFw)😭🥵❤️

(Part II is here..!!)

18+ Read it at your own risk!

---Imagine waking up in the middle of the night, only to find Ambessa standing before you. What would you do?---

I want Ambessa so bad guys! I'm scared of myself!!

Note: Thanks for waiting, everyone! I've been busy with college lately, but I still made time to update this story. I’ve already finished drafting the next two chapters, and all I’ll say is that—the next chap is where the spice gets even spicier! I can’t stop giggling Ugh! 🥵🔥🔥🔥

“I-it’s not what it looks like,”. It was all you could think to say.

Ambessa only looked at you, her lips curving. She tossed the phone back onto the bed with a casual flick of her wrist, the screen landing face down. The flashlight blinked off, plunging the room into darkness again.

Your heart raced as you scrambled, crawling across the bed to switch on the lamp beside the bed. Warm light flooded the room, but it only made things worse.

You froze, a curse slipping from your lips as your eyes found her once again.

Ambessa was still standing there, proud and tall, but the warm light didn't make things better it only made the room sensual in your eyes—the way the warm light illuminate her silk robe clung to her figure, the deep plunge exposing a delicious, taunting glimpse of her cleavage. The loose folds of fabric shifted just enough to expose her long, toned leg, smooth and strong. God! Help! Why is she so fine...

Your face burned, your breath hitching as heat rushed through your body. Can't believe your eye fucking her. You knew you should look away, but you couldn’t. She was a goddess made to attract everyone and you were one of it's victim.

Ambessa noticed. Of course, she noticed.

“I’ve seen enough, child,” she said smoothly, her voice cutting through the silence. Her lips curved into a small, wicked smile, her gaze locked onto you. “I was wondering why you couldn’t even look at me properly. But now... I think I understand.”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re wrong…” you said weakly.

“Oh, don’t play coy,” Ambessa murmured, her voice dipping into a sultry purr. Her mind was set—no excuse you gave would change her mind.

“I’ve seen that look before,” she continued, stepping closer. Making sure to have a good look of you. “A mix of fear and… hunger.”

Ambessa's words hit you like a thunderclap, and you couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She leaned forward slightly, her robe shifting just enough to reveal half of her cleavage as if teasing you at more of the skin you already couldn’t stop staring at.

“You have a fascination,” Ambessa continued, her voice soft but deliberate and inspecting how you stare at her chest. “In ways you shouldn’t.”

Your chest tightened, your head spinning with embarrassment, arousal, and desperation.

“I—” but nothing else came you. Words failed you completely under her gaze. Ambessa knew exactly how much power she held over you—knew the effect she had, the way her presence alone unraveled you. And from the way she reacted, she wasn’t denying it for a second. She liked it.

She chuckled softly, “Don’t worry, child,” she said, her voice wrapping around you.. “I find it... amusing. Endearing, even.”

“P-please, just stop talking for a minute,” you stammered, your voice cracking as you buried your face in your hands, wishing the earth would open up and swallow you whole.

Ambessa’s chuckle was soft but unmistakably amused. “Besides,” she said, her tone sharp yet teasing, “you already look guilty enough.”

You glanced up at her, confusion written all over your face. “What… what do you mean?”

Ambessa didn’t reply. Instead, she turned and began to pace the room, her steps deliberate and calm. Like she didn't transported in a strange place. Her movements carried a grace, her robe shifting slightly as she walked, revealing tantalizing glimpses of her powerful legs. She stopped at the curtain, her hand pulling it aside. The city unfolded before her—a glittering sea of lights and towering skyscrapers against the night sky.

You watched her closely, noting the way her expression flickered between confusion and curiosity. Her sharp eyes scanned the skyline, taking in the overwhelming modernity before her. She looked like someone completely out of time, out of place. She was as confused as you on how she mysteriously appreared in a strange place.

Ambessa gaze didn’t leave the window. Before she continue, “You’ve delved into yourself deeply tonight. Shamelessly, even.” She turned her head slightly to look at you, her piercing eyes finding yours once again. “Enough to present yourself with such… confidence.”

Her words carried a weight you didn’t fully understand, but the way her gaze shifted—her dark eyes trailing over you—made your stomach twist. You slowly glanced down at yourself, your heart stopping your eyes widen in disbelieve the realization hit you like a freight train.

You were naked.

Oh shit!

H-how can you be so clueless! You’d forgot how you fallen asleep in nothing but a tight red strap tube, the fabric clinging to your skin and leaving absolutely nothing. No bra, Your nipples, hard and proudly percking clearly visible, pressed against the thin fabric, announcing themselvesto the person infront of them aching for her attention. You were dressed slutty and downright scandalous and Ambessa wasn't shy to stare at you.

Heat rushed to your face, your entire body burning with humiliation as you let out a startled squeal, grabbing at the bedsheet and pulling it over yourself in a panic.

“No. No, no, no, no,” you muttered frantically, wishing this was all a horrible dream. You’d completely forgotten that you’d fallen asleep like this—after… that. You were just flashing yourself with your legs wide open in front of Ambessa, completely forgetting you were naked. Now you want to hit your head for being so stupid.

Ambessa’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she watched you flail, her lips curving. Your assumsion leading she already knew what you did before she appear. Her gaze lingered on you, and it was clear she wasn’t going to let you escape the moment. Your breathing were harder now, and you reaches around the sheets for support.

“Tell me,” she said, her voice low and teasing “Was this all for yourself?” She tilted her head, “Or were you hoping for… company?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. Your throat felt tight and all you could do was clutch the sheet tighter around yourself. The trembling in your body betrayed you, every nerve alight under the weight of her piercing gaze. Mortification mixed with want and needs.

You wanted to admit it. To agree with her, to give in to the pull of your arousal. Every instinct screamed at you that this was the moment—the one your fantasies had been wishing toward.

Your mind wrestled, whispering that maybe this wasn’t real, that it was all a dream your subconscious had conjured to torment. But if it was a dream, why fight it? Why resist? You should enjoy it. Take advantage. Surrender to the magnetic pull of her dominance.

Ambessa chuckled, starting to walk toward you closer this time, making your eyes widen. She stop beside you looking down at you like you were a feast infront of her. Stepping so close to the bed. that you could feel the heat of her presence. Her sweet smell and your arousal getting wild.

“Relax,” Ambessa said, her hand reaching out to tilt your chin upward, forcing you to meet her gaze. The moment her skin brushed yours, a shiver ran down your spine.

Her touch was firm, but not rough. “I’m not angry. or anything... I’m flattered”

Your breath hitched. “Y-you are? ''

“Of course.” Ambessa smirked, “How could I not be? You’re only human, after all. And humans are so predictable when faced with power and lust, aren’t they?”

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper against your ear. “Tell me... what is it you fantasize about?”

You froze and avoid gaze, your mind a storm of panic, desire, and sheer disbelief. It feels dirty and wrong and your shaking with need.

“Oh, don’t be shy.” She pulled back just enough to look at you again, her expression one of amused curiosity. Her face was so close to yours that you could see the finest detail of her face, and it was enough to make you weak. “I want to hear it. Or...” Her thumb brushed your jaw as she tilted her head thoughtfully. “...should I guess?”

Please, don’t… You knew she already knew what you were thinking, it was all inside the phone and she was just teasing you, fascinated by your reaction. Before you could stop yourself, a question slipped out.

“Do you even want to do it with a woman! ” you blurted out, instantly regretting how uncertain you sounded.

Ambessa paused, one brow arching. Like you just asked a dumb question. She knew exactly what you were doing—grasping for a distraction, anything to shift the tension away. But from the way her lips curled into a smirk, it was clear she wasn’t irritated. If anything, she was entertained.

Arms crossing over her broad chest, she leaned back slightly. Then she chuckled.

“You mean, do I fuck women?” Ambessa repeated, her voice laced with mockery. “Is that what you’re asking, child?”

Your breath hitched at the boldness of her words, and you could only manage a small, mortified nod.

Her dark brown eyes gleamed as she leaned forward again, closing the space between you, suffocating you in the sheer weight of her presence.

“Oh,” she murmured, dragging out the word like a tease. “You don’t know just how much I do.”

The smirk on her lips widened, “I fuck every woman I can get,” she said, her voice thick with unshaken confidence. “Strong, soft, bold, shy—it makes no difference to me. They all have their… charms.”

She tilted her head, watching your reaction before adding, “The only thing that matters is whether they can keep up with me.”

Ohh god please.. you can't take her teasing anymore..

But if it really is.. does she want it to a stranger like you. Why haven't she questioned your identity or be suspicious. On how she mysteriously transported in a whole new dimension. "W-why are you doing this...?'' You asked ''What if I'm really one of the Black Rose, and I dragged you here?" you pressed.

Ambessa’s brows meet and hardened, and her once calm expression turn anger that made your chest tighten. You just made a big mistake. Regret, you didn't just keep your mouth shut.

"Don’t fool me." She straighten “I know the Black Rose. I know what they’re capable of. But you?” She gave you a look of pure contempt, "You are no threat to me. Not by a long shot. You are just a helpless, deluded woman—so desperate to fantasize about being used and discarded by someone like me."

You shifted back, your heart pounding with fear. You hated to admit it, but you were starting to fear her. This was the warlord standing before you. Yet, deep down, you knew you like this side of her.

“You don’t get to play me, child” Ambessa said, her voice sharp, “I’m not as nice as you think I am.”

Her eyes locked onto yours “Don't ever mention and use those words again or else you might not like what i do to you. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you remember exactly who you're dealing with.”

Your throat went dry. You tried to think of something to say, but the words stumbled from your lips. Your eyes started to blurry. You didn't want Ambessa to hate you. “I-I’m sorry, Ambessa. If I upset you… I just love you so much. And all of this feels like a dream come true. I have this thing, a-and I’m curious ab—”

Ambessa grabbed your jaw to make you look at her. ''No more blabbing child. And when did i permit you to use my name as you please. For now call me my lady.''

You shoke your head in agreement ''y-yes my lady medar-'

Without warning, something thick and long plunged deep into your throat—her fingers, moving in and out, mimicking fucking. Gag you tell your breath hitch. The sensation was intense, almost too much, stealing the air from your lungs. You couldn’t quite catch your breath, the pressure and pace pushing you to your limits. Making your eyes rolled in your eyelids.

F*ck! This is really happening...

Your wide eyes locked onto hers, pleading silently for a moment to process, of the overwhelming intensity. But she offered none—no pause, no mercy. Her remaining fingers clamped tightly around your chin, holding you firmly in place as though daring you to pull away.

"Is that all you can do? Beg for mercy, only to be treated like the whore you’ve always desired? Tell me, this is what you want? right." Ambessa's voice was low, steady, laced with a dangerous kind of softness "Just one word, and I’ll stop all this..." Her gaze bore into you, there was no unspeakable mistake in her eyes, dark and hungry.

You shook your head slowly, trembling not in disagreement, but in desperate plea. You didn’t want her to stop. You couldn’t. Every nerve in your body screamed for more, even as the sensations overwhelmed you. It felt so good it was almost unbearable.

"Use your words, little one," Ambessa murmured, each word sinking into your skin. And just like that, every ounce of restraint in your body dissolved. Her fingers slid out from your mouth, trailing to the corner of your lips, leaving a glistening smear of saliva. You look up at her smitten all over over face.

Oh, God.

"Yes!" The word tore from your lips, trembling with desperation. "F*ck, yes—keep going, don’t stop. My lady... you can do anything you want with me..." you pleaded, clinging to her arm desperately, like a kitten afraid to be abandoned. All that mattered in that moment was your need for her.

A victorious smirk appeared on Ambessa's lips. “Then prove it, little one. Show me how much you want me,” she said, her voice with a mix of seductive.

For a moment, you thought Ambessa might close the distance between you, but instead, she stood up straight and stepped back. Confusion flickered across your face as she dragged your desk chair toward you, the sound of it scraping softly against the floor. Placing it firmly in front of you, before she sat down.

Her legs spread wide, shamelessly confident. Her hands rested casually on the arms of the chair, her fingers tapping lightly as if she were waiting for you to entertain her. In this moment, she looked every bit like a queen surveying her subject, and you were utterly captivated.

“W-what do you want me to do?” you stammered, your voice trembling as you tried to hold yourself together under her piercing gaze.

“Straddle my thigh,” Ambessa said smoothly.

Your heart pounded in your chest as her words settled over you, heat pooling low in your stomach. But still, you hesitated, your body frozen in place, overwhelmed by the intimacy of her command.

You swallowed hard. “Your thigh isn’t what I want, my lady,” you whimpered softly, barely able to meet her gaze. “I want you. Please. Touch me more”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile, a glint of amusement dancing in her dark eyes. “My thigh is all you get right now,” she said, her tone teasing yet firm. “You’ll have to prove yourself first. If I’m satisfied, then i may be nice enough to grant your wish..”

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.8k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: this chapter is all from Blue's perspective. if anything regarding the abuse or suffering of children triggers you do not read. though it is really not graphic at all (imo) and the SA is EXTREMELY implied and subtle (just a woman looking/potentially touching Blue's private area to check for virginity). I wanted to tell you so there are no surprises.

B

Blue hasn’t been without her father for more than an hour in over five years. There were moments when she'd imagined him disappearing, especially when he said no to her, when he could annoy her, push her too hard, or withhold the words she craved. And yet—now, with her head resting in Twix's lap, she can only long for him. The thought of his absence fills her with cold dread. The kind that erupts goosebumps on her arms despite the stuffy air in the room. Twix’s fingers gently stroke the back of her scalp, but it does little to ground her as her mind drifts to Ghost. He’s alive, that woman said. But it's been over a day, and he still hasn’t come for her.

"Do you think he will come soon?" she asks quietly.

Twix's fingers pause at the top of her hairline. "I think... I think he is doing everything he can to find you."

Blue is old enough to know that is a non-answer.

She knows, deep down, that Twix doesn't think he'll be coming, either.

"I will figure something out, okay?" she promises.

"Okay," Blue whispers noncommittally.

"Hey." A faint smile. "I've done pretty good at getting us out of shit in the past, right?"

Blue mumbles, "I guess so."

But this time felt different from those times. No matter how many times she catches Twix squinting around the room, murmuring things to Nereida, even Blue knows that a bright idea won’t magically appear. Not in here, where there is nothing except the three beds, the bolted cell, and the out-of-reach door that Ghost has yet to barge through.

When Blue's fingers instinctively search for her wrist, Twix’s face softens, and she gently encloses her palm over Blue's knuckles. "Alright. I want you to close your eyes and imagine that beach you showed me once. The one with white sand, and super blue water." Blue plays along with a deep sigh, closing her eyes as she feels a callused thumb brush her cheek. "Almost as blue as your eyes. See it?"

"I guess."

"Good. Now, I want you to imagine that you are lying on the sand, eating all the Twix bars and Nutella you want. Oh, and Grim is there. He was trying to make a sandcastle but got his head stuck in the sand."

Blue's lips twitch despite herself. "This is dumb."

"Dumb? Well, I don't think Grim finds it dumb. He can hardly breathe right now so you better stop eating chocolate and haul his ass up."

Blue snorts quietly, eyes screwing tighter as she imagines it; pulling the bunny out of the sand, giggling, the waves crashing. She falls back onto the sand with him in tow, but he darts away from her hands, toward the water. When she looks over, sun glaring, someone else is there. It's her father, and for a moment she is ready to jump on his back and beg him to play in the waves with her. That's when she notices he is keeled over, ripped apart, bloodied and battered.

Blue jolts, inhaling sharply. When she reopens her eyes, the image is still there. 

"What's wrong?" 

"I just saw—" she rubs her eyes profusely, but he's right in front of her. Blood begins to spurt from a sever in his throat. His head snaps forward, hanging by a thin thread of tissue. "I see him! H-his head is..." 

She jerks upright from Twix's lap, her eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to shake off the vision. When that doesn't help, she buries her face in the pillow, but the image remains too real to ignore. The thread snaps, and her father’s head rolls away silently.

Twix’s voice cuts through, her hands gently shaking Blue’s shoulders, but it feels distant, like a shadow compared to the sickening thud of her father’s headless body hitting the ground. Thick blood pools at her feet, and she tries to move, but her muscles won’t obey. The blood rises and rises, suffocating her, until she can’t breathe.

"Blue, it's just... you're imagining it."

"I can't... I can't..."

Someone flips her over on the bed and hugs her shoulders.

Twix's chapped lips press into her cheek.

"Please, Blue. I'm here."

The touch is enough to drain the blood and free her lungs. Her father's dead body floats away. She gulps for air, cold sweat clinging to her neck, and curls into the body beside her. Lingering panic races through her heartbeat, but then, after a minute, it begins to slow considerably. A new feeling washes over with the force of a tidal wave; fatigue.

Blue suddenly feels so tired that she can't keep her eyes open. It’s as though the terrible images have drained her entirely, leaving only murky water in their place. Her mind begins to float, and the edges of the world blur. Twix's face is in front of her yet feels so far away. Her lips try to part for words to come out, but it takes three tries just to manage: "I feel strange."

Across the cell, Nereida whispers, "I do, too."

Weight shifts on the mattress as Twix tries to sit up, leaning against the wall. Her head dips slightly, then snaps back up. A shaky inhale. "That... that fucking bitch. The oatmeal!"

The oatmeal? Blue’s thoughts latch onto the warm meal they’d been forced to eat, but the memory slips away before she can hold onto it. The slow descent snowballs. Twix’s voice distorts, blending with the chirping of birds outside the window. Her body slides down the wall, crumpling back beside Blue. She tries to hug Twix again, but her arms won’t cooperate.

Minutes later, or maybe hours, Blue hears the metal screech of the cell door swinging open. Veiled ghosts drift in. She can do nothing to run from them. Murmured voices, speaking words she doesn't understand, bleed through the heavy blanket of fog lying over her.

"Vous avez dit que celui-ci était intact?"

"Oui, Maman."

"Nous offrirons son corps pur au Seigneur. Les deux autres seront aptes à avoir des enfants."

"Mais elle est une... Je veux dire, oui, Maman."

She feels something cold and sinuous lifting her—snakes. No, not snakes. Hands. Cold, unfamiliar hands. Twix shouts something slurred. Then Blue is dragged by her feet, her spine no longer supported by the bed. She tries to squirm free, but her limbs feel heavy, useless. More hands clamp down on her arms.

No, no.

She wants to call for Twix, but her voice is muffled beneath a palm, the sound dying in her throat.

A weathered voice coos in her ear. "Sweet child. There is nothing to fear."

She can't scream.

All she knows is Twix is no longer the one beside her.

Cold fear surges through her veins, and she claws at someone’s arm. The retaliation is swift—a prick to her neck.

The strike of pain intensifies her dizziness, the last fight in her body fading away. They're dragging her again. The hard floor beneath her feet melts into soft grass, and the stark white ceiling shifts into a blue, cloudless sky before everything fades to black.

A gentle melody repeats in her subconscious until she rouses.

The same three-note tune, over and over.

Peeling her eyes open against the buttery sunlight, the first thing she notices is an open window above her head, its thin white curtain dancing in the light breeze. Upon the windowsill sits a small, cooing bird with pearly grey feathers and a black ring around its neck. Its head tilts almost mechanically, two little black eyes regarding her. She stares for a long moment before her eyes fall closed once more, lulled by the familiar call. Only when the bird quiets does she truly come to her senses. The sudden silence jolts her upright.

This isn't the same room she was in before. There hadn’t been a window in the cell, and certainly not one left open. The air there had been thick with the scent of old wood and lingering dust. But here... here, the air is different. It smells of fresh flowers, of the tall grass she used to wade through with Ghost while hunting. 

The bird calls once more before flittering away, leaving her reeling.

"A collared dove."

Her gaze snaps to the right where an old woman sits in a mahogany chair, knitting needles in hand. Without looking up from the red yarn she weaves, she explains idly, "They are very common. Lovely, but common."

The accent of her old voice is nothing like Blue's Mancunian one. But she understands each word.

Her voice pulls through her teeth with great effort. "I don't... Where am I?"

The old woman's brow furrows as if she is deep in thought, but it smoothes over after she undoes a stitch and loops it again, hands moving with an unnatural slowness. "You had them in England, yes? They are very common there, too."

Blue's fingers spread into the fine linen, her pulse ticking as she blinks a few times to sharpen her vision. The woman before her is older than anyone she has seen in a long time, though there is a faint resemblance to a woman deep in her memory who she believes was her grandmother. Unlike the woman who visited their cell with food, this one does not wear a veil over her face. Long wisps of gray hair fall over her shoulders. Wrinkles etch around her eyes and lips. She is still cloaked in white, but around her neck hangs a red cord beaded with a cross dangling at the end.

Her fingers clench. "I don't care about the-the stupid bird. Why am I here? Where are my friends? You..." she swallows the feel of sandpaper in her mouth, "You put something in the food. You made me lose control of myself again!"

Finally, grey-blue eyes flicker up beneath a questioning brow. "Oh, sweet child. You are so full of fire." With an unsettling calmness, the woman sets down the knitting needles on a carved side table. Pressing a palm to the surface of it, she rises slowly, then laces her hands in front of her. "Come, and perhaps your questions will be answered. Though, I wouldn't try to run." She moves toward the door, her gait shuffled but steady. A glance over her shoulder beckons. "Your friends are under my care."

The mere mention stiffens Blue's spine. She forces herself to her unsteady feet, swaying slightly, bare toes digging into the wood planks. Each small step feels lighter than the first time she woke up from being drugged, though her body still protests. Ahead, the woman is already walking away. It wouldn’t take much to catch up, but Blue lingers, her eyes sweeping the room with deliberate caution—always stay aware of your surroundings.

For a moment, she considers grabbing the knitting needle and stabbing the woman. But then what? Everyone, her father included, is under her care, and any misstep could mean their deaths. Ghost always told her to never act without some type of plan—to wait for the right moment. Blue doesn’t even know where the others are.

As she hesitantly steps out of the small house, the realization hits her. There are more people here than she’s seen in a long time. Almost like a town, but not really. Smaller than that, but more than her group. The building they just left is a small, home made of light grey stone. To her right are more homes, smoke billowing from the chimneys. She counts at least four of them. Straight ahead of her is gravel road. This is where the woman heads, with Blue trailing behind her. To the left is a stretch of green lawn, bright and lush. She has the itch to sprint over it, but a voice ends that idea.

"Catch up, girl." 

Gravel bites her toes as she walks to the woman's side. She is still only dressed in the simple, white slip. She hasn't worn a dress before.

"Where are you taking me?"

"There are some things I wish you to see." 

"Why... why can't the friends I was with be here to see them, too?"

From the corner of her eyes, Blue catches the woman smile lightly. "What do you think of France?"

Blue digs her nails into her palms, swallowing down her frustration at the non-answer. "It's... nice, I guess." It isn't a lie. The beautiful beach they left from, the fields of wheat and flowers, were things she'd only imagined before. 

"Good. My husband was from India but owned this land. I never wanted to leave it. France is the most beautiful place. I knew I wanted my son to grow here." She exhales in a quiet appreciation. "My husband said this land would thrive, even after the plague. He was right. The Lord spared it. He did not spare Ashwin, though."

Blue doesn't know what to say to that. If she should feel sorry for this person or not. She didn't state her husband's death in a sorrowful way, merely factual. As they walk, they pass a few men hunched over tree stumps, chopping wood. The smell of fresh earth and spilt sap wafts up her nose. The men glance up, their gazes lingering on Blue a moment too long, making her shift uncomfortably. Then, they lower their heads respectfully toward the woman. She speaks to them in French, and their chuckles follow her words.

Under a warm afternoon, they approach what looks like a large barn, bordered by wooden fence posts strung with taut wires. Inside the fenced area, Blue notices a white horse, smaller than Cherry, along with four cows. More men are working nearby, some tending to the animals while others, farther off, wield sickles to harvest stalks of wheat.

When they stop in front of the fence, Blue can't stop herself from asking, "Where are all the girls at? Like the one who fed us? I've only seen guys so far."

The woman doesn't look at her. "Our community is built around the roles God intended for us. Men have bodies made for working under the sun. Women, like those beautiful young ladies you traveled with, are vessels to be cherished, protected. Especially in these times when they have become rather scarce."

A few of the words fail to make sense to Blue, never having learned them from any of the books Ghost read her. "Um, is that why you separated the girls in my group from the men?"

She hums, a slow sound. "Women are kept in their own quarters with the infants."

"Okay," Blue rocks on her feet and grips the hem of the dress before the light air can catch it. So is her dad one of those men working, then? She squints, confused, and shakes her head. No; if he was anywhere out here, he would've come to her. He must be locked up, too. A wave of anger buzzes in her chest, louder than the cicadas. "That still doesn't explain why you are holding Twix and Nereida prisoner. If women are so special, why are they locked up and I am out here? And where are all the men from my group?" Her mind briefly flashes to the others; Kyle, Price, and... Ari. 

"None of them are prisoners, child. They are merely being readied for the role their bodies were created for, by God."

Blue grits her teeth. "You're not really answering my questions. What about me? Why did you bring me to," she glances back at the working men, who haven't stopped to look at her like the others had, too engrossed in the strenuous labor. "A fucking farm. What could you possibly want to show me here?"

"There is someone I need here before our next stop." She leans closer to the barbed fence and calls out, "Pierre! J'ai besoin de toi et de trois hommes pour nous accompagner jusqu'à la cale. Apporte les chaînes."

A man—Pierre, she guesses—strikes one of the cattle's hindquarters, wipes sweat from the back of his neck, then shouts in French to three others following behind him. They unlatch a gate in the fence and slip inside a small shed for a brief moment, emerging with rusted chains in hand. They approach, causing Blue to falter and step back. An old, strange woman is one thing, but three strong men are another. A fissure of terror cracks through her, and she inhales shakily.

"You need not be afraid."

She blinks up at the woman, who for a moment, conjures something similar to a comforting expression. Blue nods, and then they are walking again, with the four men trailing behind them. The sound of the chains dangling in their grasp makes her feel uneasy. What are they for, and why are they coming with them? She is ready to build the bravery to ask when the woman ghosts a hand on her shoulder.

"What is your name, child?"

"It's... um, Blue."

A soft chuckle. "The English and their strangeness. This is not your real name, is it?"

For some reason, Blue finds the truth stuttering out of her. "No, it's—the name I was born with is Amelia."

"Amelia. Much better. Tell me, Amelia, did your mother have blue eyes?"

Blue nearly chokes, her footsteps halting in the grass as she flinches away from her hand, curling her fingers into fists. "What the fu—why are you asking me that?"

The woman stops beside her and clasps her hands together, the long sleeves of her gown falling over them. She is a small woman, hardly taller than Blue, and can't be any stronger than she is, but something about her emits control. Blue can't look away from her eyes, even as her jaw tightens, stomach swirling.

"There are many answers to questions that can be discovered on their own if one simply looks for them. I know which one of them is your father—"

"How could you know?" Blue demands. "I haven't even said any of them was my dad."

Thin lips twitch at the side. "A daughter gets the shape of her face from her father." A bony finger reaches to trail the edge of Blue's cheek, and she trembles from the cold feel of it. "But the features are all from her mother." She looks away and continues walking, speaking over her shoulder, "A little dove might have also told me he was asking for you."

When the men step forward, Blue is forced to continue walking. It feels hard to breathe, even though the canopy of trees offer fresh, rich air. "Then why are you asking about my mother?"

"Your eyes are blue, but your father's are not. I was simply curious."

"My mother is dead," Blue finds herself gritting out. 

"I figured. Neither of those women were her, and many mothers have been lost. A very terrible thing. A child needs its mother. You will call me Maman, Amelia. This is what French children call their mothers."

"I am not going to fucking call you that. Tell me where we are going," Blue presses, swallowing as she looks back at the farm behind them. Through the gaps between the men's shoulders, she sees that it is rather distant now, along with the small homes. She looks back ahead; nothing but overgrown vegetation. Even the flowers have grown sparse over here. It is quiet and still. She can hear the thrum of her own heart.

"Your fire is admirable, but you need to learn respect." For the first time, Maman's voice carries an edge, one that sends a shiver down Blue's spine. A foreign bird call echoes through the leaves, and the woman holds up a hand, signaling for everyone to stop and listen. "Ah. That’s the Bluethroat, if I’m not mistaken. Much rarer than the dove. You won't often find those in England."

The bird calls again—a trilled chirp—as they crest over a small hill, and the air suddenly grows heavier, more pungent. A smell Blue knows well makes her freeze, but a strong grip on her arm keeps her moving toward the source of the stench: an old, smaller building made of much darker stone. The sharp rustle of wings through the trees fades into the distance, but the tension in her body doesn’t ease.

"You, too, are rare, Amelia," Maman continues, voice steady and unhurried. "A pure, young female like you—so virtuous—carries more favor from God than any other. Your friends have their purpose, and you have yours. Each of us plays a part in shaping the new vision of God's children."

The men move in front of them now, except for one who continues gripping Blue. The tremble in her body intensifies, and a cold pit grows unbearable in her chest, thundering. She is forced to stand about four meters in front of the large door, where one man grips the handle while two others, including Pierre, stand beside it, their hands ready with chains and their stances wide. It’s now, through the stinging film that grows over her eyes, that Blue notices large metal muzzles attached to the chains.

Blue is too stunned—too confused, yet frightfully aware—to move a muscle when Maman procures a knife from inside her robe. Pierre shouts something in French, but Blue can barely hear him. Her senses are fixed on the bead of sunlight glinting off the knife, and on the scratching and snarling she hears from the other side of the door.

"Please—" she gasps, unable to finish the thought.

Maman ignores her in favor of snatching hold of her wrist. Cold fingers force her arm to extend, and a burning pain cries out when the knife slashes a laceration from her elbow to the rim of her palm. 

"Une seule coupure pour les attirer."

The blood weeps, and the door shakes from the ignited frenzy behind it.

Tears finally escape Blue’s eyes just before the door opens. She feels it—the sensation of her body being torn apart beneath rotten teeth. She squeezes her eyes shut, thinking of Ghost, when she hears more shouting and the harsh sound of chains being whipped through the air. When she opens her eyes again, the men are wrestling two Greys into the muzzles.

"Deux c'est bien!" Maman orders, and the door is slammed shut over the others that threaten to spill out toward the fresh wound. 

Blue is alive.

Her arm numb and bleeding. 

Maman yanks something else from her robe—a strip of cloth. She wraps it roughly around Blue's forearm, then issues another command. Without warning, Blue is hoisted from the ground and callously tossed over the shoulder of the man who had held her in place. They start heading back the way they came, the leashed Greys trailing behind them, and finally, a scream rips from Blue’s throat.

"You said this one was intact?" "Yes, Maman." "We will offer her pure body to the Lord. The other two will be fit to have children." "But she is a… I mean, yes, Maman." "Pierre! I need you and three men to accompany us to the hold. Bring the chains." "One cut to attract them.” “Two is good!”

[betweenstorms]

hey, this is the anon from before :) honestly would you consider writing a simon pov? cuz i’d like to see what he thinks during all the silence, the sudden stride forward to grab your chin?? immaculate. did he think of you too during those years gone? argh so much to talk abt.. honestly i picture he noticed you in the bar before you noticed him outside but wasn’t sure if he should come up to talk, which is a pretty simon thing to do.

Hi! I'm so glad you sent this ask—I absolutely love it! Writing from Simon's perspective is something I've been itching to dive into. But I have to admit, a full POV would give away a bit too much of the ending. Still, I didn’t want to leave you hanging, so I’ve written a short drabble! Thank you again for the thoughtful message—it really made my day!

Drabble One of Where We Part (previous chapter) (next chapter) (masterlist) Childhood Friend!Simon x fem!Reader

The streets of Manchester hadn’t changed, not really.

Returning here was like walking through a graveyard of memories he’d long buried, each street corner a ghost, each familiar landmark an infected scar. Selling his childhood home felt like cutting loose the last thread of a life he had tried so hard to leave behind, something he hadn’t let himself think about for years. He’d avoided this return like the plague. It was a place he never wanted to think about, let alone see again, yet here he was. He was back, and the weight of the past was heavier than he’d imagined.

He hadn't meant to stop by the old pub.

He hadn’t planned on drinking at all, but there he was, in the heart of his old neighborhood, the one place that had remained untouched by the passing of time. Stepping inside, the familiarity was suffocating—same stained floors, same worn barstools, and faces that blurred into ghosts from his past.

He sat in the shadows, nursing a glass of whiskey that tasted too much like pain. But he wasn’t here to reminisce, wasn’t here for the memories that lingered in the corners of this place. He was here to forget, just for a few hours.

But then, there was you.

Bloody hell.

The sound of your laughter reached him first, sweet and familiar, cutting through the haze of voices. He didn’t need to look to know it was you, but when he did and the sight hit him like a punch he hadn’t braced for. There you were, sitting with old friends, the same group from high school—familiar faces he hadn’t thought of in years. Time had touched you too, but softly, like a breeze, not the storm that had weathered him down.

For a moment, he could only stare.

The sound of you twisted something inside him, both sharp and soft, like a knife dulled by time. He hadn’t prepared for this—hadn’t even considered the possibility of seeing you again, not here, not like this. Fifteen years had passed, but looking at you now, it felt like no time at all, like the years between you had been nothing more than a blink. You were laughing, as if life hadn’t crushed you the way it had him.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, even though every instinct told him to look away, to run before the memories dragged him under.

But the pull was too strong.

And when you ended up outside, in that small, dimly lit smoking area, he knew he was done for. It was like being pulled into a gentle current he didn’t want to fight. The moment you stepped into his space, the air felt different, heavier. The distance between you had been vast for so long, but now it was nothing—just a few steps and you were close enough to touch. Close enough to undo him.

He didn’t have a chance.

Not against you.

Not when you looked at him like that, with the same eyes that had once seen the boy he used to be, the boy he’d tried so hard to forget. He had no chance, not here, not in this place where the air still smelled faintly of the life he should’ve had.

You were everything soft, everything he craved and feared in equal measure. And as you asked for a light, as you came closer to him, the memories came crashing back. He had spent years building walls, but with you, they never stood a chance. The years fell away in that instant, and he was drowning in you all over again.

So he just stood there, watching, waiting, wondering how it was possible for someone to still hold this much power over him after all these years. Simon Riley, the man who had faced death countless times, felt his heart stumble in his chest as your eyes met his.

He really had no chance.

He could already feel himself drowning, sinking into the memory of what could have been, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to swim to the surface.

[scarletssienna]

I'll Never Let You Go

Summary - Your fights with Wanda were unusual, but often recently. Misunderstanding was bound to happen. When things with Wanda get too difficult you seek comfort in someone else's embrace. 5k word count

Warnings - Hurt-Comfort, angst, mommy Wanda, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamics, mean Wanda, grinding, pinning, Natasha comforting, fighting, face-slapping, jealousy, talk of threesome, talks of consent

AN - Part two of the mini-series. Part one here. Surprisingly no real smut in this chapter. Don’t worry, you’ll get your fill-in the next one. Some insight into their fighting as well as what happens after R left ;)) The next chapter will probably be the last in this series! Feel free to hit me up in my asks with thoughts/ideas/requests though! :))

18+, minors + men dni

Two weeks ago

“Detka. I have had enough.” Wanda exclaimed as she angrily tossed the sponge into the sink, turning to you with wide eyes. Her jaw was slack as she looked at you, her eyebrow raised and one hand on her hip as she expected you to understand what was bothering her. You dropped your spoon back into your cereal bowl, looking quite confused at the sudden anger, choking down your bite of frosted flakes. Before you could ask what was wrong, she decided to tell you. “You have been sitting there, chomping loudly enough for the entire neighborhood to hear you eat that for the past what?! 20 minutes?!” She exclaimed in frustration as she dried her hands on her robe, bringing her hands to hold her forehead in pain, grumbling under her breath. You knew it wasn't about the cereal. Her head had been killing her for the past few days. She had just been covering up the sickness with anger. She pressed her palms to her eyes, holding them firmly.

“I’m sorry Wands,” you said as you stood up, dumping the rest of the cereal down the drain as you took over the job of washing the dishes. When you finished the dishes she was still standing there, leaning up against the counter, her head buried in her hands. You walked over cautiously as you gently placed your hands on her hips, sliding them up slowly to her waist. You leaned closer and kissed her temple. “Maybe you should take a break from work?” You suggested tenderly as you rubbed her sides softly. “You've been working so hard lately and deserve a break. I can stay home with you - run you a bath and-” 

“I should take a break from work?” She interrupted you with a scoff. She pulled her hands away from her eyes and put them on your wrists. “Yeah, suddenly you're the one to talk about when to take a break when I've been telling you to for the past like,” she grumbled not knowing exactly how long the fight was as it was truly pointless. “Forever.” she pushed your hands off her waist and stepped away. “Don't touch me, I'm gross and haven't showered.” She said as she walked towards the cupboard, grabbing a glass of water. You rolled your eyes as you watched her move around the kitchen aimlessly. She never knew how to accept comfort when she wasn't feeling good. She didn't know how to let herself just be taken care of. 

“Whatever,” you mumbled under your breath as you went to get your shoes and jacket on to leave for work. You walked into the kitchen again to tell her you were leaving. She hadn’t expected you to come back in because she was leaning face forward on the counter this time, her head buried in her arms as she mumbled in pain. “I won’t be home until late tonight.” You stated, causing her to startle and stand straight up. “Don't wait up,” you told her before contemplating walking over. You always kissed her goodbye, but it didn’t seem like she wanted that today. 

She rolled her eyes at you saying you wouldn't be home until late again tonight. It had been like this for the past 3 weeks. You would either plan on being out late or accidentally get her hopes up by saying you would be home but leaving her to sit alone at the dinner table with the meal she prepared for the both of you. She had truly grown to just expect it at this point. She walked over and grabbed the collar of your shirt, pulling you into a fast kiss before retreating upstairs. Although she was upset she always made sure to kiss you goodbye. She feared that one day she wouldn't and you would die or something gruesome and she just couldn't risk her chances. 

With the deadlines for the end of the year approaching you were at work much too often lately. Not that she was any better to be fair. It seemed anytime one of you was home the other would be off working. It wasn’t ideal and you felt guilty about being gone so often. It would be better in a few weeks.

That night you were surely tied up in your office,  paperwork surrounding you in scattered piles. You rubbed your forehead and looked over one of the files on your desk, tapping your pen on the desk. You glanced up at the time, grumbling as you saw it was nearly midnight and you were nowhere near done for the night. When you heard a knock on the door you startled at the sound. Everyone had long left the office and you and the security guard were the only ones that usually remained at this hour. When you looked up, your eyes met with a familiar redhead. Natasha smiled at you before biting her bottom lip softly. 

“I figured I’d find you here still.” She licked her lips and shoved a hand in her pocket. “Can I come in?” She asked with a little chuckle and smirk on her face. 

“Yeah for sure!” You said, just happy to see anyone at this point in the night. You shut the file in front of you and pushed your chair back slightly. You pushed your glasses off your face, resting them on the top of your head as you looked up at the girl who wandered over to your desk. “What are you doing here?” You asked as you looked up at her. She stood on your side of the desk in front of you, leaning slightly against the desk. 

“Oh, you know. I can never seem to remember everything I need when I leave. Makes me come back at odd times.” She said with a laugh as she set her file on top of your pile of stuff. You giggled and bit your bottom lip slightly, sighing at how late it was. You brought a hand to your mouth as you covered up a yawn. “Boring you already huh?” She teased and reached out, taking your glasses off your head and setting them on the desk. Her hand brushed your cheek softly before sighing and leaning back a little further on the desk, her hands bracing her on either side of her body. You blushed a little at the action and quickly turned your face away, looking towards your desktop as you typed a few more things into your document. “You know, you should be working less. These long hours aren’t good for a pretty girl like you.” She said as she looked into your eyes. You avoided eye contact and scoffed a little.

“You sound like Wanda.” You murmured, glancing up at her with a little smile before quickly looking away. 

“Oh, do I now?” She asked with a smirk as her hand reached out, spinning your chair so that you were facing her again. “Sounds like the little witch may be right then.” She stated, causing you to roll your eyes, a tiny grin on your face. 

“Be nice.” You warned. There was something about Natasha that drew you in. You could never go for it though. You loved Wanda more than anything. It would be stupid to do anything to put that in jeopardy. Unfortunately, your girlfriend seemed to pick up on it slightly. And even more unfortunately Natasha did as well. And she wasn’t good about helping negate those feelings. She reached down and pulled your chair closer to her as she leaned down. 

“Yeah?” She grinned. “Or what?” She asked as she raised her eyebrow slightly. Her hand reached underneath your chin. “You’ll spank me?” She teased, knowing you could never. Your breath hitched in your throat slightly and your face turned a bright red as you pushed your chair back, quickly standing up to put some space between you. She got the hint and backed off slightly, reaching for her folder. “Let me take you home at least?” She offered, walking around to the other side of the desk. “Being here too long is…dreary.” She said with a furrowed brow and a tone of dramatics. You nodded and rubbed your face before collecting a few files to bring home. You liked to walk to work and back. You found it peaceful and it wasn’t all that far. It was a little too late tonight to be walking alone so you agreed.

“Fine, but you keep your hands to yourself and the teasing to a minimum.” You warned and pointed a finger at her before collecting your bag and jacket. She just smiled and walked with you to her car. The drive home was fairly quiet. There was little small talk every once and a while but it was a short drive and it wasn’t long until you were home. You said goodbye before going inside. You were always quiet with the lock when you got home, not sure where Wanda would end up for the night. You locked the door behind you and discarded your jacket and bag, hanging them in the closet by the front door. As you crept into the room you smiled as you saw Wanda curled up on the couch, snuggled up under a blanket, a random sitcom playing on the TV. It was all ignored though as she slept through it. You walked over and reached for the TV remote, flipping the TV remote off. As silence filled the air you sighed, watching her so peacefully. You leaned down kissing her forehead before carefully picking her off the couch. She stirred and her eyes opened slightly, her bright but tired green eyes looking up into yours. 

“Detka.” She murmured as she wrapped her arms around you, assisting in the carrying to make it easier as she nuzzled her head on your shoulder. 

“Hey, sleepyhead.” You whispered with a smile, leaning down to kiss her softly as you paused on your walk. She hummed into the kiss. 

“Bed.” She whispered and poked your nose with a smile before closing her eyes again. You laid her on her side of the bed, a blush covering your face that was luckily hidden by the darkness of the room. You covered her up and kissed her forehead. She held onto your arms when you attempted to walk away, a confused look forming on her face. 

“I have to get ready for bed, silly.” You whispered and she sighed, slowly letting go to let you get ready. She stole your pillow, pulling it between her arms tightly as she turned onto her side. You smiled at the sight and quickly moved into the bathroom, getting ready for bed as you were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to be in bed with Wanda. When headlights lit up your window Wanda sat up slightly. She frowned when she saw Natasha’s car peeling out of the driveway and driving down the street. Why she took so long to leave was unknown but all it left was this pit of self-consciousness in Wanda’s stomach. She has quickly and wrongfully assumed you were out so late because you were with her. When you came back to bed you crawled in bed next to her, scooting up and pressing your body against hers from behind. You wrapped your arms around her closely and rested your head on her pillow.

“May I have my pillow back, darling?” You asked gently as you rubbed up and down her side softly. She shook her head, squeezing it tighter to her chest. You let out a tired chuckle when she shook her head and pulled her closer, kissing her neck. “I guess that just means I’m going to have to be closer to you tonight huh?” You teased, referring to the fact that the two of you would be sharing a pillow. She let out a hum as an approving response before closing her eyes. You placed one more kiss on her neck before closing your eyes as well. You fell asleep, holding the girl close to you. Unable to sleep, Wanda's quiet tears were muffled into your pillow. She couldn’t understand why you would be out with Natasha so late, again, instead of being home with her. She felt as if it was her fault and she grew to become extremely self-conscious about it.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The next morning Wanda woke up upset. She just snuggled closer to you as she waited for you to wake up. Typically she would get out of bed and head to work early but this morning she needed the extra time with you. When you woke up you were surprised to see Wanda awake, lying on your chest, her fingertips tracing patterns on your stomach. 

“Good morning.” You whispered as you lifted your head slightly to kiss the top of hers. Instead of continuing with the customary response Wanda decided to jump right in. 

“You’re always out with Natasha.” She complained, not even looking up at you. You sighed, quickly catching the mood she was in. 

“Uh,” you started, confused about where the sudden accusations came from. You went with it anyway. “I mean sometimes, yeah? But I’m also working all the time lately I mean I don’t have the time to be out with her.” You said as your forehead wrinkled in confusion. You brought your hand up to her hair running your fingers through it carefully before massaging her scalp. She grumbled and sat up, turning to look at you. 

“Notice how neither one of those things is being with me?” She asked as she pushed your hand away and sat up. You wanted to giggle at how dramatic she was being but you were lucky you didn’t as you realized she was genuinely upset. 

“Wands, what’s up?” You asked as you propped yourself up with your elbows. She grumbled and rolled her eyes at your question, assuming why she was upset was blatantly obvious. She moved and straddled your lap. You automatically reached up to put your hands on her thighs but she swatted them away and instead held them by your sides.

“She’s like, obsessed with you or something.” She complained as she pressed your wrists to the bed, silently telling you to keep them there as she pulled her hands away and moved them to your stomach, pushing your shirt up. You got the hint and kept them still but your face wriggled into a frown. 

“Come on she’s not obsessed with me.” You said, looking away as you thought back to last night. It was purely situational and she had just been in the area. Remembering the teasing and little bits of flirting Natasha had put out there, maybe you needed to reconsider that idea slightly, and maybe you needed to leave that part out to Wanda. The girl above you took it into her own hands though and with a raise of her hand, her eyes glowed red. When you looked back at her and noticed her you quickly reached up, grabbing her hands. “Wanda!” You frowned, now upset. “Stop using your powers on me.” It was your turn to complain now but she ignored you. Her eyes turned back to normal and she ground her hips against you, pinning your wrists back to the bed, now above your head. 

“The little witch may be right. You are working too much.” She scoffed as she began reciting some of the words from last night. “Or what? You’ll spank me?” She grumbled repeating the line as her hips ground against you, suppressing a moan. “Keep your hands to yourself.” She squeezed your wrists tighter. “Why?” She asked, stopping her movements as she looked into your eyes and raised her eyebrow. “Does she not keep her hands to herself?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes at what she was doing. 

“Wanda get off me I’m not in the mood.” You said firmly and seriously as you looked up into her eyes. She let go of your wrists with a grumble and moved to sit next to you. “Nothing happened. And nothing is going to happen.” You said as you stood up, rubbing your wrists. “Ever.” You said before disappearing off into the bathroom, leaving her on the bed alone. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Now

Running away was your specialty. Anything that got too hard or scary, you ran. The unknown was big. How were you supposed to act and behave if you didn't know what would come next? You could handle the unknown when you felt secure with Wanda. She always seemed to know what to do. Her security pulled you in. It all had disappeared lately and you were in search of it once again. Tearful, you knocked on Natashas' door harshly. As you waited for her to answer you grew self-conscious. Suddenly aware that you were standing outside her door, dressed in Wanda's shorts and hoodie, not wearing a bra. Remembering last night you assumed there were probably marks on your visible body as well. You crossed your arms, turning a bright shade of red when Natasha opened the door. The sun was just beginning to creep above the horizon which made her face glow. 

“Hey…?” You spoke softly and your voice cracked as tears began to fall once again as you saw the confusion on Natashas' face turn to concern. She quickly pulled you inside and made fast work of trying to comfort you. 

“Detka…what's wrong?” she spoke gently, the nickname falling all too easily off her tongue. Instead of saying anything you practically fell into her embrace, wrapping your arms tightly around her as your head tucked down and rested beneath her chin, tears falling rapidly as you sobbed. Seeing your state a ping hit Natashas' chest as she suddenly got nervous. “Did she hurt you?” There was hesitation in her voice yet she was firm in finding out the answer. You gasped at her question, the idea of Wanda ever even laying a hand on you non-consensually, was unfathomable to you. Shaking your head quickly she sighed a breath of relief as she shut the door, gently guiding you inside. You clung to her tightly and she awkwardly moved the two of you to her couch. She sat down before pulling you gently next to her. You didn't take much prompting as you practically sat on her, clinging tightly. She began to rub your back up and down in an attempt to quiet your sobs. While they slowed they never ceased completely. Her hand slid gently under your shirt and rested on your bare back, trying to continue the movements when you stopped her. 

“No.” You murmured as you lifted your head for a second looking into her eyes. You reached behind your back, placing her hand back on top of your shirt. You wiped the tears from your face with open palms and sniffled before laying your head back down. She got the hint and continued her slow patterns up and down as you calmed down. When your sobs calmed and turned into quiet sniffling she finally attempted to ask what was wrong. 

“Detka…” she tried again, and you grumbled snuggling closer. 

“Don't call me that.” You said firmly and pulled your phone out, declining a call from work as you set your phone on the coffee table next to you. You sniffled and buried your head in the crook of her neck, closing your eyes. Natasha, at a loss of what to do let you stay in that position. When she felt you drift off to sleep she smiled a little at the sight and pulled you closer. Just after you fell asleep your phone began to ring, Wanda. Asleep, you had no idea. Natasha had to decide, she took a second. She hesitated as she reached over to the coffee table. When she saw who was calling her eyes flickered back and forth between you and the phone. She slowly set the phone upside down, ignoring the call. Unbenounced to you Wanda was growing increasingly worried and anxious at you being gone. She had taken up pacing back and forth between the living room, her phone held to her ear as she dialed your number repeatedly. After the tenth call with still no response she had an idea of where you had been. Despite how she seemed, she wasn't angry. She was scared, scared something had happened to you. But also confused. What had she done? Above all the familiar feeling of self-consciousness grew in her chest. Ignoring everything in the house she tore through to the door. As she got closer to Natasha’s house her concern grew, her power setting off nearby car alarms. 

When the phone calls ceased and the lights flickered in the house Natasha knew Wanda was nearby, and upset. The door flung open, breaking the hinges with a loud bang. You startled awake at the loud noise, a loud gasp leaving your lips. In a panic you sat up, your attention immediately drawn to the front door, Wanda, standing in the doorway. 

“What is going on here?” She demanded firmly as she stalked over to the two of you on the couch, unnecessarily close. This wasn’t Wanda anymore. This was Mommy. Her tone was demanding and firm, but it had a sweet sultry tone that dripped as she spoke. You’d always noticed the more worked up Wanda got, the more her accent came through. This was surely one of those times. When neither of you answered fast enough to her liking she asked again. “I asked a question.” She reached out her hand. You had expected her to touch you, to grab your chin. Instead, she reached towards Natasha. Her fingers gently reached under her chin, lifting it slightly as she made deep eye contact with the other girl.

“She came here this morning!” Natasha stuttered quickly. “She just fell asleep!” She explained with an urgency and demeanor you had never seen from her before. You watched the sight before you, surprisingly curious as you tugged your bottom lip into your mouth. Wanda’s hand raised from off her chin before delivering a slap to Natasha’s cheek. Natasha yelped at the hit, causing you to flinch. You could feel the tension as the two of them interacted. Wanda’s hand gently rubbed and soothed where she had just hit as Natasha leaned into her touch, her legs pressing together in anticipation. The sight in front of you made you squirm. You physically felt your breath hitch in your chest when Wanda leaned forward and kissed Natasha. There was no jealousy behind your eyes as you watched the two of them, their kiss becoming more heated by the second. You squirmed next to them, your legs pressing together as you gnawed on your bottom lip, waiting impatiently in anticipation for your turn. When Wanda finally pulled away her breath heaved slightly as she caught her breath. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Wanda said as she stood up and smoothed out her shirt. “Natasha, you are going to go to your room and wait for us in bed. We are going to have a little chat then join you up there. Okay?” She said it in a tone that sounded as if she was asking but she wasn’t. Natasha just nodded and glanced at you before carefully standing and quietly heading to her room. When she left you looked up at Wanda with wide innocent eyes. 

“Mine.” You mumbled as you grabbed Wanda’s hand, tugging her down into a passionate kiss. She straddled your lap happily as she kissed you back, her tongue wasting no time as it brushed against your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You happily obliged, allowing her tongue to take control. “Mine.” You mumbled again, into the kiss this time as your hands reached around her waist, squeezing her sides lightly. 

“Yes, all yours Detka.” She said as she slowly pulled away from the kiss. She dragged her finger across your jaw, tracing her fingers across your face. It was as if she was trying to memorize it. As if you would disappear in her fingers at any second. Her breath grew shaky as tears brimmed her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She took a second, closing her eyes for a second before opening them, a fresh tear falling slowly but beautifully down her cheek. “You left this morning.” She said in a whisper, any louder, she feared would break her. “Why?” In the second part, she spoke even softer. Each word felt like a chore as it left her body. You felt your blood rushing in your ears, just as it always did when you got anxious or scared. Your hands reached up gently holding her face. Your thumbs brushed across her cheeks, wiping away the tear that had fallen as you kissed her cheekbone tenderly. 

Your jaw shook as you opened your mouth to speak. “I left before you could.” You said, in a level just above a whisper. “I left before you could remember how mad we were.” You paused, sucking in a quick breath, the noise in your ears getting louder. “How mad you were.” You admitted quietly, the guilt and setting in for what you had done. Wanda frowned, her eyebrows crinkling ever so slightly twisting into an even sadder expression.

“You think I’m going to leave you?” She asked as her fingertips paused on your face. “Detka I would never.” She assured. “I’m not mad at you.” She smiled sadly. “I mean, I have been mad.” She admitted carefully. “But only because I’m scared.” She looked away, breaking eye contact for the first time since the conversation started. She pulled her hands away to wipe her face. “Scared you’re going to leave me. For her.” Wanda said quietly as she glanced at the stairs and then back to you. You couldn’t shake your head quick enough. 

“No!” You exclaimed quickly, a little louder than either of you had expected, causing a sad giggle. “Wanda no, no, never. I love you so much. I just.” You stuttered out of shock. “Absolutely not.” You said as you brought your hands back to her face, turning it towards you. “Wanda, you are the love of my life. I can never even imagine leaving you for any reason, let alone another woman. I don’t even want to imagine it!” You sniffled before leaning closer and resting your forehead against hers. 

“I love you too.” She whispered before kissing you. It was a tender kiss, sweet, and simple. She pulled away for a second and chuckled breathily as she wiped your tears away. “Stop crying and kiss me Detka.” She whispered with a little smile before kissing you again, more passionately this time. 

After several minutes of kissing you remembered to Natasha upstairs. You paused, pulling away and pressing a finger to Wanda’s lips. 

“Natasha?” You whispered with a question in your voice about what was going to happen in that situation. Wanda seemed to have an idea. Her hands snaked under your sweatshirt slowly and she kissed the tip of your finger. 

“I think it would be good to get the temptation out of the way.” She admitted, her hands rubbing your sides as they moved upward. “I also think it would be good for me to gain a little control in that whole situation.” She said, a small smile coming across her lips. “How do you feel about that?” She asked it was a genuine question and she was looking for your honest response.

“I like that idea.” You said as a dark blush crept across your cheeks. Wanda hummed happily when she heard your response. 

“I expect you to use your safe word if anything crosses any lines. Okay?” She said firmly as her fingers stopped beneath your bra, she needed you focused for the rest of the conversation. You nodded quickly at her instruction, trying not to get too distracted by the thought of what was about to happen. “Is there anything different you don’t want happening in there?” She asked and you thought for a second. Your face blushed even darker and your head fell to her shoulder in an attempt to hide it. You nodded a little and she slid her hands down your sides, needing to know your thoughts. You were embarrassed to admit them but she prodded anyway, knowing it was necessary. “Detka. What is it?” She asked, letting your head stay where it was if it would make it easier.

You hesitated before quietly admitting it. “I don’t want her mouth.” You paused and built up further courage. “I don’t want her eating you out.” You stated a deep red blush on your face at having to admit that out loud. She didn’t laugh at you as you had expected though. Instead, she smiled understandingly. 

“That’s yours huh?” She asked with a smile, causing you to nod on her shoulder, your face nuzzling into her neck as you began to place soft kisses on her sensitive skin. “Anything else?” She asked, knowing she would have control of what went on up there and could set her boundaries for herself. When you shook your head she hummed, pleased. You pulled back and kissed her again, sighing happily into a kiss. You found yourself distracted by Wanda’s hands trailing up your shirt again. Suddenly you pulled away with wide eyes and began to laugh. Wanda looked confused before realizing it. 

“How long has she been waiting up there?” You asked between giggles as you covered your mouth at the realization. 

[godmadeaterribleerror]

As Much As I Do - No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03

Author's Note: One-shot request from my love lordofthunderthr! Extra thanks because I've been waiting for the genuine smallest reason to use this gif because it's in no way going to fit into the actual story. Title from Bob Dylan by Fall Out Boy (you guys can pry my Fall Out Boy song titles from my cold, dead hands)

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary/Warnings: Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. It's fluff. Horny fluff.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, fluff

Ben felt like a fucking cat. She was touching him casually while he “slept” and he was pretty sure he was fucking purring. The Thing was definitely making some sort of goddamn low sound, and Ben couldn’t blame it. She was touching him like it was simple, his head was buried in Her neck, and one arm wrapped was between her body and the mattress while one splayed out across the bed because it goddamn could. He was in their fucking bed and Ben could do whatever the hell he wanted on it. 

Except fuck Her. 

Ben wasn’t allowed to fuck Her. 

He wasn’t allowed to make Her moan and scream and feel fucking good. Fuck Her until she said his name and smiled at him and looked so fucking perfect, undone below him. Or above him. Or against him or in front of him or clinging to his body. He didn’t give a single shit, as long as it was Her. Wanting Ben, touching him, letting him touch her. Like this—where Ben’s breath was in time with her heartbeat and her perfect hands were running through his hair—but until She’d been ruined. Until her beautiful face was flushed and her hands were clawing at his back and her pretty eyes were blown out and lustful and all of it was for Ben. For how he was making Her feel, how she was gasping and begging for him to do it again and again until the only words She knew were Ben and please and everything else was just moans and whines. Until she felt half as damn good as Ben did now, resting on top of Her as she fucking pet him and he had to fight the Thing’s urge to just stay here for the rest of goddamn time. 

“I know you’re awake, Benjamin.” Her voice was so perfect, humming everywhere around him and soothing the Thing, that Ben almost missed her actual fucking words. “I can feel you.” 

He didn’t answer. Maybe She’d just give up, and keep him right fucking here—where they both belonged—forever. 

He should’ve known better. Ben knew Her too fucking well to think she’d ever just let anything go. 

“You’re heavy,” She said, and one hand dropped to the base of Ben’s neck. “And you smell like shit.” 

“Shut the fuck up. I smell fucking fantastic.” Ben didn’t move as he grunted the words against Her skin. He wouldn’t move, not until she damn made him. 

“I knew it.” 

Clever, impossible, perfect fucking woman. With Her happy giggle when Ben squeezed her closer and her gasp when he nipped the skin of her neck.

“That’s a goddamn underhanded move, Sunshine.” He muttered, and when he looked up at Her it was like he’d been struck by lightning. She was smiling at him so gently, eyes still heavy with sleep, and so fucking beautiful. Just looking at him, watching Ben like she’d never want to look anywhere else. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Pretty Boy.” She kept smiling at him, voice smug. “I didn’t do anything.” 

Ben rolled his eyes. “You didn’t know I was awake,” he said Her name, and her smile widened. “You fucking baited me.” 

She shrugged, body shifting under Ben’s and making a small sound that sent a rush of pure fucking hunger through him. “Prove it.” 

Ben had a lot of favorite sounds She made. The small squeak when he flipped her body over his—sitting up with his back against the headboard and sliding her down his chest—was certainly on the damn list. 

“You’re a fucking menace, beautiful.” Ben pulled Her forward slightly, leaning down to growl in her ear. “I don’t think I’ll have to prove it. I think I’ll ask you again and you’ll just tell me.”

When Ben moved back, meeting Her eyes, he could feel her heartbeat under his hands. Resting right at the line of her shirt, never higher. Holding her right where he fucking wanted her. Against him, so when she squirmed he’d feel it. 

“Fuck yo-“ 

He didn’t wait to make a teasing remark or dirty joke. Ben just leaned forwards and touched Her. Kissed her pretty mouth until she opened for him, pushing his tongue in—almost down her throat—and just trying to get closer. As close as he was allowed to be, while still touching her more, making her feel good. Make Her hands pull at his hair, make her whimper a fucking perfect sound from her throat that Ben got to devour. He’d lost sight of his original plan, but he didn’t really fucking care. Not when he bit her lower lip and could revere in the way she leaned further into him, or when he had to try not to lose his fucking mind when she started to grind down on him. Started to practically fucking climb up his body. 

When Ben sucked on her tongue and she made maybe the best sound he’d ever heard in his life—unintelligible and breathless—he had to wrap his arms around Her and pull her into his chest. Hold Her there until he could get goddamn control of himself and not have to explain why he’d fucking cum in his pants. 

“Ben,” She whispered, head in his chest. “You really do smell terrible.”

He chuckled. “Brat.”

“Cunt. Can you please shower so we can train?” 

“I told you last night, we’re not fucking training-“ 

“And I told you, Benjamin, that I do not care what you told me.” She glared up at him, so fucking beautiful, and now Ben had to goddamn pretend he hadn’t already given in. “I am training, with or without you.” 

“You’re a pain in my fucking ass.” 

She smiled at him. “But…?”

Ben rolled his eyes, leaning his head back, forcing himself to stop staring at Her perfect face. “Fine.” 

“Fine?” 

“We’ll train.” 

“Thank you,” She kissed his neck, near his jaw, and hummed against his skin. “Now go shower. You smell like balls.” 

The only thing that kept Ben from taking a year in the shower—letting the Thing grab him and show him all the ways he could’ve just fucked her on the bed, buried himself in her and made her scream—was that sometimes, when they trained her singing, his doppelgänger would appear. It would make Her face flush, make her eyes wide and heartbeat quicken, and Ben would get to taunt her until one of them moved and he was kissing the air out of her lungs. It was something to look forward to. Something that made Ben fucking haul ass, getting in and out of the shower in four minutes flat. 

Ben hadn’t left the room when he realized that She was already singing. She’d gotten more comfortable with it, the longer they practiced, and sometimes would hum softly during movies or while doing normal things. Normal, easy things like laundry or dishes or cooking, simple fucking things that Ben got to share with Her. Got to watch how Her humming would send the world into a spiral of her, all the perfect fucking parts of her cast across the room for Ben to exist in. Colors and lights that he got to watch her sway in. 

This wasn’t that. This was singing. 

With words and instruments and a beat that ran through Ben’s body and bones. With the room turned into a dark club, with lights that flashed and changed in time with the bass. 

And She was dancing. She was singing and dancing and moving with the music like it had been made for Her. Like the rhythm had been designed to follow her legs, and the guitar had been made to move her hips. Like the whole fucking song had been perfectly tailored to her voice and how she moved through it. How she didn’t stop for even a second, never losing a breath, performing for no one like her life depended on it. 

It didn’t, but Ben’s life might. Everything in the world might hinge on letting her just dance like that forever. The Thing wanted all of this. All of Her, forever, like this, or it would fucking explode. Ben had no will to push against it. Not when She was dropping down and twisting and turning her body and so lost in it that she didn’t even see Ben. Falling to her knees and leaning back while her hands gestured with the lyrics. Trailed down her body and up again. Wrapping around her throat before falling to the side. Her whole fucking voice saying every word like it had been written for her, the whole face twisting with the emotions of the song, smiling and dropping into a pout and so fucking perfect. 

She only saw Ben when the song ended. When the club disappeared and they were back in the apartment, leaving Ben no longer hidden in the shadows of her illusion. He should probably feel like a goddamn creep, but Her mouth fell open and her heart picked up, so he couldn’t really bring himself to give a fuck.

“Hi,” She whispered, and Ben grinned at Her.

“Hello.”

“How long-“ 

“About three minutes,” he crossed the room until he was standing above Her. “Almost the whole fucking show.” 

“You, um, you showered fast.” 

Ben winked at Her. “I’d have showered faster if I’d known I was missing something. You do dance like a fucking slut.” 

She scoffed, wrinkling her nose at him. “That’s pretty high and mighty for the manwhore to say.” 

“It was fucking hot,” he lowered himself down until his nose was bumping hers. “I think I prefer your slut dancing, Sunshine. It’s more you.” 

“More me?” She gave him a flat look. “Fucking rude.” 

“How the hell is that-“ 

“You just called me a slut, Benjamin. That’s not very nice.” She whacked his chest, and Ben caught her hand. Held it there. 

“It’s more you because it’s fucking loud. Because it’s fucking captivating and hot. So fucking beautiful and good.”

Because it’s fucking perfect, the Thing rumbled. Because you’re fucking perfect. 

She was watching Ben with wide eyes. Opening and closing her mouth like she was going to say something. 

Instead, she fucking tackled him. Rammed Her body forward, crashed her mouth against his, and let Ben pick her up and carry to the couch. Training could fucking wait. Everything could fucking wait. She was making that same perfect sound from before, and her hands in his hair were making him groan, and when his hand started to kneed at her skin she made such a happy fucking sigh and Ben knew everything could wait. This was just Her. Making the Thing content and goddamn purr in his chest. Making Ben grin against Her neck when he sucked that one spot and she moaned his name. 

The whole world could go fuck itself. This was Her.

End Note: Let's all say thank you to @lordofthunderthr for some easy fluff in these dark times (Chapter 16 to Chapter 19).

I'm going to start a separate tag list for one-shots, so lemme know if you want to be added!

If you like this story, reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit.

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

chapter Four

You got the shoe back to the grieving mother. Helped her bury it before you got home and rested your tired eyes.

It was over. He let you leave.

But a pestering feeling told you that it wasn't true. That instead you had just painted a target on you back.

You walked to work the next morning with the same feeling. You tried to shake it. Peacekeepers would have knocked down your door last night if he ordered. He wasn't going to grab you now. It was over.

But as you saw you boss guarding the entrance to work, you knew it wasn't.

You tried to pass her anyway. maybe commander Snow had taken the Panems back off her and all she wanted from you was payback.

You reach the bottom of the steps but your boss blocks the entry to your work. Dread pools your stomach. Without this job, you and your mum don't eat.

She was only 5-foot but her fiery personality, and dark features made up for her short frame.

"I never thought you were stupid" she spat.

"I've got to get to work".

She steps forward to stop you, "You already know there's no work here for you".

"Six years I've worked for you. Never turned up late. Never took a day off. And now with a click of his fingers you wanna toss me aside? I never thought you were a coward". You snap back.

In the six years you worked for her you never rose your voice at her. Always gave in to her demands to work late, do something outside of your job description.

"Anyone not a coward to Commander Snow is dead. You're looking to end up the same way".

"Commander Snow!" you heard a voice holler from behind the door. She popped her head out to show Vanessa. She was a pretty girl with long red hair and blue eyes.

"I heard you were receiving parcels from a peacekeeper but from Commander Snow! God. I'd let that man root me for free".

"Get to work" Your boss snaps, and Vanessa disappears behind the screen doors. Her laughter following her.

Now sensing sympathy for her loyal worker, your boss takes the journey down the steps coming up beside you, and placing her hands on your shoulders.

''Can i give you a piece of advice; men love the chase but hate the catch''.

You pull back from her stunned that she would suggest such a thing to you.

"It could be worse" She continues, "Uglier men. Men who take with nothing in return. He could prove to be useful to your survival".

You shake your head no. You had never even flirted before. You were so timid, you needed someone gentle and kind for your first time. Coriolanus Snow was no such man.

Your boss nods back understanding your temperament.

"Maybe he will bore" She tries.

"He will". Your voice was shaky and unsure.

"Good luck until then". Your boss turns from you and walks back up the stairs.

You feel your chest tighten as you turn and walk home. You still had two panams that would keep the house afloat for at least two months on a stingy budget.

But you were unsure how much patience that the commander had. Could he outlast you. Would his infatuation run you dry in time. What then if not?

Your mother wage could cover the rent but not much more. You had a few candles, a few sellable things. But who would buy them for what they were worth. Had Coriolanus got the message to all the community that you were to suffer.

You move past people in the opposite direction going to work as you walked. You kept your head down ashamed until you made it to your gate.

Only the opened letterbox lifted your sprits. You reach in pulling out a thin letter with a re-attached capital seal. Your brother had always been resourceful and smart. The letter would not have even left district 8 if not for the seal.

You peel it off carefully, planning to re-attach it once you had enough money to send the letter back.

The letter itself did nothing for your confidence.

The first line demanded to know why your letter had a capital seal. He called you silly if you stole it, and stupid if you traded for it. He reprimanded you for sending the coins which he sent back. He was fine in district 8 and didn't need any help. You only had one job; look after yourself and look after mum. It seemed to him you were failing, consorting with Peacekeepers. If he was still around he would smack you until you saw sense. Stay away from Peacekeepers and look after yourself, the last line read,

I love you, Archie.

You fold the letter, keeping the coins in your hand. He always knew what to do even if he had no idea about the circumstances. You thumb the place where your ring was suppose to be, wishing you fought harder to keep it.

The door was already unlocked as you reached it and you called out surprised.

"Mum?".

You hear cries coming from her bedroom and you rush to get to her.

"Mum!" you call again.

"Bernard fired me" She sobbed on her bed. You sit on the edge and pat her back.

"Mum, I am so sorry. This is all my fault".

She doesn't deny it but places a warm hand on your knee.

"We're going to be ok. It won't last forever" You console. You were going to beat him at his own game. You could endure, you've been doing it all your life.

"Look what Archie sent" You showed her the coins in you palm. She smiles at you through her tears and you smile back.

You would endure.

He would bore.

You hold your Saturday market stall using the last of your ingredients.

You had only just started but sold four cakes already. You smile brightly at your customer passing him the brown bag. But he doesn't take it, scurrying off.

The Peacekeeper coming up explains it. He picks up a cake and expects it before throwing it to the ground. Four more peacekeepers come up, and start going through your things.

You stand still with the bag pressed to your chest. You wanted to protest but interfering with peacekeeper work was punishable by whip.

You watch as they turn violent. Throwing over your table and stomping on the baked goods. They kick at your things until they break.

You watch them as he watched you.

You hadn't realized he was there until one of the peacekeepers addressed him asking what was to be done about your money box.

His blue eyes remained on you. "Take it".

All of your days profit and your change was taken.

He stands tall in his commanders uniform, his hat upon his head, and hands in his pocket as the peacekeepers left a mess.

You stare at each other until he calls them off. There was nothing left to destroy. Their time there was now wasted.

He takes a step to you as they went back to the van through the parted audience.

You expected him to say something as he nears but his lips never parted. Instead he takes the brown bag from your hands and follows his men to the van.

You stare at your ruined things but don't cry. It was going to take more than that.

You were going to endure.

You got some work on the side doing laundry. Your clients underpaid you and you had to deliver in the dead of night, but the supplement income took the pressure off.

You had to rebuild your stall, but now that word got out that Commander Snow had it out for you everything tripled in price. No one was willing to be labeled a traitor by him for the going rate of materials.

Food was also tripled. But you didn't tell your mother that. Choosing to tell her you had a reduced appetite given the circumstances.

You had found a macadamia tree behind a row of houses to pick from. You went late afternoon to avoid being seen as you tried and fill your belly.

You stood there now. Plucking the small nuts off the large tree. You had to climb the base, already have taken the lower hanging offerings. You deshelled some, putting them in a pouch for the walk home.

You had been there for nearly an hour but your basket was only a quarter full. It would take another hour to crack all the nuts out of their shells before you could eat them to your full. Your belly ached at the thought.

"Careful you don't fall". Your foot slipped at the voice.

There was no one around to watch you pick the nuts so no one around to hear you scream.

"What did I just tell you" He scolded.

You look down from the tree to see him staring back. He had you crawling higher up but he caught your foot and tugged you gently down. As you lowered yourself he held the deseeding body part as if he was tugging down on a rope.

First your ankle, then your calf, your thigh, your hip, the your upper arm before finally resting on the side of your neck.

In his other hand he held a capital issued duffle bag, and his fingers curled around an apple.

You push off the tree away from him and he lets you.

"What do you want" You ask.

"I heard you were washing laundry" he threw the duffle bag at your feet, "I'll pay double what everyone else is paying".

"I am booked out" you lied. As the series of events escalated people were too scared to even cheat you of work. You had lost two clients just yesterday.

"a trade then" he smiles and it puts you more on edge, "an apple for 10 minutes of your time".

He holds up the apple in his hand. You eye it hungrily. It was red and large, looking juicy in his hand. But you couldn't bare the thought of spending a minute in his presence let alone 10.

"5 minutes" you try.

He smirks, brining up the apple to his teeth and taking a large bite.

"10" he resolves, chewing the apple.

He could see how hungry you were. Your eyes never leaving the apple.

You nod slowly, walking up and taking the apple from his hand. You retreat as soon as you take it, going back to your place.

"You look tired. Have you been sleeping?".

You were right the apple was juicy and delicious. He waits for your answer, not moving on.

"Hard to sleep when you're hungry". You take another bite of the apple, avoiding where he bit.

'You miss my packages" He said it as more a statement then a question. He said it pridefully as if he was proud that you were starving without him.

"Not even a little bit, Sir". it was the truth. The care packages scared you more then anything.

"I miss my job, I miss my stall".

Your answer perplexed him. His strong features locked, and his body tensed.

"Yes, well self-inflected" he dismissed.

You were finally forced to eat the side he bit and he watched with eager eyes as you did.

"Will you sit?" he gestures to the steps of the old house. There was only three of them but they were long and looked stable.

You do take a seat and he follows you.

Once seated, he places his head on your lap, laying down along the step. It causes you to jump up and he lift his head in an uncomfortable position as his cushion jumped away.

He sits back up on the step and reaches for something in his breast pocket. He pulls out a peanut chocolate candy bar. They were popular in the capital and Tigress thought he might want to try them in her care package she sent.

He had no interest but knew you would.

"Here you want this?" it was wrapped in shiny plastic, "All you have to do is sit and let me rest".

You shook the feeling off and returned to your seat. If he tried anything you could just move again.

You tear open the bar, ripping it in half and putting the remainder in your pocket for your mother.

he rests his head down and lays quietly.

"todays the anniversary of my mothers death. Both her and my sister died in child birth together".

he had wanted some condolences. Maybe for her to stoke his face and tell him to sleep.

But she scoffed at him. "last week was the anniversary of little leo lerman's pa. It will always been the day you hung him".

Little Leo Lerman's pa was a traitor to the capital, his mother was a victim of the war they started.

"I've had a long journey back from the Capital. If you can't be kind, you can be quiet".

"I thought you were away" you comment.

"I went back to the Capital for a few days. Returned this morning".

A funeral for a old academy school mate required him to return home. He had to look in touch with Capital matters. But truth being told, he never cared for the man who died. Couldn't remember even talking to him, only ever speaking over him in class when he gave the wrong answer. He was used once more to make Coriolanus look good.

He was glad to see Tigress and Grandma'am too. They both swooned over commander Snow in his uniform. It was nice to be doted over but still didn't itch the need he had. If anything it only grew it.

He longed to return to you. He had hopped that his effort were enough and he would return to you begging for his forgiveness.

Hearing you now noticing his absence gave him a renewed confidence that you would fold sooner rather than latter.

You had only noticed his absence due to the halting of your suffering. No more being stopped and searched by every peace keeper who crossed your path. The 10pm door knocking to check you were home stopped. People even began to talk to you again. You were beginning to think it was over until moments ago.

You chew on the candy, looking around to see even a shadow of a person.

"I heard a rumor while you were gone that you were a peacekeeper in district 12 before commander".

"Most Commanders are Peacekeepers first."

Your hand clutched the railing ready to pull yourself up. But first your gnawing question had to be answered.

"And that while you were a peacekeeper you ran about with a girl named Lucy-grey". His eyes shoot open upon her name. dead and still ruining his life.

"Expect Lucy-grey went missing, and no one's heard from her since".

He sits up and leans against his knees, "It's just a rumor".

You jump back to your feet now the weight of him was off you. Getting as much distance as you can. He reaction confirmed it for you.

"I don't want to disappear" you admit, your eyes tearing up. Your family would never recover. Especially your brother.

He gets up with you, closing the space you created and taking your face into his hands despite your struggle against him.

"And you won't, okay. I never even knew Lucy-grey".

He was going to find whoever told you about her and string them up.

He could see the panic in your eyes, and he wanted to stamp it out.

"It's just a district rumor" he consoles.

The look in his eyes told you the truth.

"No it ain't".

You pull free from him, grabbing you basket as he stood frozen.

"i owe you an apple". You try and move past him, unable to spend any more time in his presence but he grabs your arm and flings you back into the macadamia tree.

You gasp as you make impact. It was a beautiful sound to Coriolanus's ears. He would have enjoyed it if he hadn't been so angry.

"Who do you think you are walking away from me?" his hands reach your throat applying pressure. It wasn't enough to cut your air supply completely off but it was enough to make it difficult to breathe.

You struggle underneath him, trying to push him off.

"I am Commander Snow, you are district scum. You think i am going to let district scum treat me this way?"

His hold tightens as he shakes you a little bit.

"Are you mad? bringing up lucy-grey. mocking the death of my mother."

this was not his sweet girl that plagued his mind.

"Get off me!" you scream at him with all the breath you had left.

His hand comes down. One-two-three times across your face. Tears fill your eyes from the stinging sensation but he doesn't relent.

This was the man who ruled district 12. He wouldn't have to make you disappear he could just leave your body were it laid.

Your hand reaches out, touching his neck and it stilled him from his rage.

"Stop" you beg, "I am sorry. I didn't mean to".

You feel his fingers loosen from your neck, and you take gasps of air while you can.

"I am sorry" you say again and his hands rest on your collar bone rather then your neck.

He lifts one hand up stoking your cheek,

"That bruise will never heal if you keep this up".

"I know". You wrap your hands around his wrist. He seems receptive to your touch.

Keeping his hands on your collar bone he rests his forehead on you.

You needed to get away from him. His temper flared so quickly, you were sure to make a mistake that would lead to his hands reaching for your neck again.

If codling kept him kind then you were going to lay it on thick until you were back to safety.

You rub his back like he was a child, while your other arm laid across his shoulders.

He presses further into you, moving his hands so there wrapped around your waist.

It looked like a lovers embrace but you felt like a mouse in the mouth of a snake.

Commander Snow was a mummy's boy, you learnt. It seemed logical that he was trying to replace the hole she left.

"Can you walk me home?" you ask. The walk home was nearly 15 minutes but you knew of you tried to leave without him again, his anger would flare back up.

You feel his nose rubbing your skin as he nods but he doesn't move.

"come on" You urge pushing against him. He straightens, heaving off you and picking up the basket you dropped and the duffle bag he threw.

He held out his hand to you, and you take it without hesitation.

You walk behind the houses to avoid being seen together. He leads and you trail slowly behind him.

Your eyes drop with tears from the pain of your cheek. He only notices when you snuffle.

It halts him in his tracks. He turns to you, wiggling his hand free and wiping away your tears.

"Hey, I am not angry anymore" he consoles.

You nod your head, taking his hand back in yours and coaxing him forward again. You were almost home. Just a few more meters.

Night had just begin to overtake the sky as you saw your house come into view. You let go of Coriolanus hand and press yourself against a neighbors house as man covered in coal returns from work.

You had expected that he would leave you at the gate but he continues past it, staying just behind you as you reach the steps of your house.

"Thank you for walking me home, Commander". You reach for your basket but he keeps it out of your grip.

"I'll bring it in side for you".

You freeze at his words. The last thing you want is for him to enter your home were he would be given free reign to do what he wanted behind closed doors. At least out in the open you had a chance of a good Samaritan coming to your aid.

But you couldn't tell him that.

You nod instead. Unlocking your door you turn to him.

"Could you check the mail for me?"

His hand touches your elbow as he turns, "Of course".

You wait for him to open the empty mail box at the end of your house before you rush inside. Locking the door behind you. You double check the windows on the side, ensuring they are well secured.

He heard the door slam and turned back up the drive. He tries the door nob to see it locked. If he was upset he didn't show it, keeping his face emotionless.

He walks to the window where you stood, eyeing you through the glass.

"vanessa lives by the lake. House 1-02" He begins to eat the de-shelled macadamias that you planned to have for dinner.

"she's very pretty and less troublesome then me. You'll like her".

He smiles a tight smile, no longer looking at you he turns, tipping your basket as he walks back to the gate. You would pick the nuts up later for dinner.

You felt as if you won watching him walk away. You bested him today.

But he didn't want Vanessa, he wanted you.

No one was willing to have their clothes washed by you. He must have figured out your clients, and scared them into submission.

With the loss of income, you were forced to use your savings that were fleeting fast with the rising prices.

The macadamia tree was no more. He had cut it down to a stump the next day. You only had a small basket left to last you.

Your mother was depressed by the isolation of the community. She rarely left the house, unable to beg for a job any longer.

You tired to lift her spirt by using the last of your flour to make her a small cupcake. You surprised her with it after dinner.

She hadn't even taken a bite before the sound of a van pulling up was heard. You both froze waiting for what was next.

Peacekeepers knocked down the door, coming in full force in a single file.

One grabs you and pushes you against the wall while the others tear apart your house. You feel his hands upon you as he searches for valuables upon your body.

Your mother is subjected to the same treatment by another.

A tight hold on your neck kept you from turning but you could hear the house being turned over. Crashing sounds could be heard from every direction. Smashes from things being broken, sounds of cheering as they found something valuable.

One had taken your mums silver necklace that was gifted by your dad just before he died. She had beg the Peacekeeper to leave it but you knew their orders were to reek havoc.

Breaking up the sound of looting was a drill. You could see out of the corner of your eye that a peacekeeper was taking your door.

You yelled but it was drowned out by the sound.

Once it was off its hinges, the peacekeepers released you and your mum, beginning to return to their truck with the door and your valuables.

You rush to your bedroom, falling to your knees seeing that the loose floor board panels that you hid your savings under was opened.

You and your mum were officially destitute.

The open door way let the cold air and bugs in. You had put up a old blanket but it did little.

It also didn't offer you any protection from unwanted visitors.

Coriolanus walked right past the blanket into your home. You shoot up from the table. Standing in front of the hallway to block him from going any further into your home.

"what are you doing here"

"I came to see if you had changed your mind about apologizing. I thought coming to the compound might have been a little scary for you".

He takes a step forward coming across to you. His head turns as he examines the damage his peacekeepers did.

"i want my door back" you demanded.

"I want my apology". He continues to you

"an apology for what? look at my house". He backs you into the wall

"an apology for treating me so cruelly".

"get out" you demanded.

"Are you sure you want to do this? It doesn't have to be this way".

"get out of my house" you repeat.

He places a hand on the wall next to you, leaning in. You feel his hand on caressing your cheek.

"you showed me the other day what a sweet girl you can be. Must i wring it from you?".

You think about shouting for your mother. She took to lying down in her bed to starve off the cold. But you worried for her safety if you did.

His stoking hand stopped, bracing itself against the side of your face.

He leans his head closer, his lips brushing yours. You knew what was coming next, and tried to move your head out of the line of attack.

He takes a stronger hold on your chin to keep you in place, and kisses you with the same hunger as the night against the wall.

He comes back for more before he had fully pull apart his lips from yours.

'Commander Snow". Your mother voice broke his kiss, and he turns to see her in the living room.

"Ma'am" he greets.

He doesn't move from you, unashamed as your mother glares down at him.

"What an honor it is to have you in our home" She pulls out a chair at the kitchen table for him. One of three that didn't break. "Can i offer you some water".

"No thank you, Ma'am. I just came to check on your daughter".

"As you can see, she's fine. Thank you, Sir". Your mother walks to the door way, holding up the blanket, " If anything changes I will be sure to let you know. So there's no need to come back down. We would hate to keep you from your important duties".

Commander Snow scoffs at the women. She was a bad influence on you.

He turns back to you and places a quick, deep kiss on your lips before following his directions to the door.

"No trouble at all. I'll be back to ensure the safety of you both" he pins your mother under his stare as he spoke, "District 12 is a dangerous place".

"Good night, Commander" your mother voice wavers.

"Ma'am" he nods in her direction and disappears behind the sheet.

Your mother rushes to you once he goes, pulling you into her arms. You were too frozen to hug back.

You knew your mother was going to pay for her interference.

But as peacekeepers invaded your house once more and dragged her down the road. You had no idea what awaited her.

You shout at them to get off her. Hitting and pulling the Peacekeeper that had her.

People come out from their houses at the noise. Watching as the women is pulled to the town center with her daughter carrying on behind her.

You feel arms secure you to a chest and you turn expecting to see Coriolanus giving you an out only to find a faceless peacekeeper.

You beg him to let your mother go but he continues silently, pushing you along.

You watch as they lock her on the whipping post.

"Commander Snow" you yell out for the only man who could stop this but he was no where to be found, "Commander Snow".

You scream as the whip came down upon your mother.

The cries of your mother will forever be engrained in your brain. You stood helpless as you watched her be whipped unconscious. Only then was she unlocked from the post and the peacekeepers moved the crowd on.

You rushed to her as the Peacekeeper released you. You cradled her head in your lap. it was you who should have been whipped. You wished you could have taken it for her. But he knew the only way to hurt you was to hurt the people you loved.

Your friend, Lydia saw the ordeal and helped you get your mother back to the house. You didn't have anything that could help her. The best you could do was clean the blood with water which caused her to wake from the pain and put her to bed.

"it's my fault, Lydia" you cry reaching out to hold her but she retreats from you.

"I am so sorry. I can't be seen with you". she rushes back to the entry way, "I shouldn't have even helped with your mother".

You fall to your knees as you watch her leave. You were utterly alone.

Your mother is bed ridden from the pain. Unable to eat or sleep. Two nights later, you receive a letter from him. In it was two small bottles of morphling.

I have what you need. Come see me

-C

The note read.

You rush to your mother giving her the small bottle. It worked instantly to relieve her pain. You stroke her head as she sleeps.

You remember what your boss has said; men love the chase but hate the catch.

Perhaps if you let him take what he wanted it would mark the end of this torture. You wouldn't be the first women to loose your virginity to a peacekeeper. the consequences weren't worth the effort in keeping it.

Your pride lumped itself in your throat, and you forced yourself to swallow it.

The next morning you gave your mother her breakfast and second dose of morphling before rushing over to your bosses house. You knew she was the only one who would see you.

She doesn't allow you in but greets you on the front porch.

"Have you come to your senses?" she asks.

"He whipped my mother"

"I heard. What do you plan to do about it?".

"The only thing I can" your voice was low and soft but she heard you.

"What do you need?"

"Two cups of sugar and a cup of flour".

She goes back inside and returns with your request. You could feel her neighbors staring out at you from their windows.

She comes down to the steps to where you stood and you take the whole pouches of ingredients.

"Thank you", Your boss was not known for being generous.

"When he is done, come round and i'll pour you a drink".

You nod your head unable to form a thought.

"Oh and Y/N, relax. It will hurt less the less you fight it".

She offers a comforting hand on your back, but you shake it off quickly to return home.

You make a batch of brownies with the ingredients.

You give a small patch to your mother and box the rest up in your basket.

You had showered and prepared yourself. Putting on your nicest dress, a soft blue one that ties into a bow in middle of your back. You borrow your mother worn black high heels, and brush your hair a hundred times.

You feel your pride bubble back in your throat as you reach the compound. You have to push it back down to give the guarding peacekeeper your name.

He repeats it into his communicator and the gate swings open.

You follow the guard to the well known building to see Coriolanus waiting at the bottom step.

He dismisses the Peacekeeper as he takes your basket from you and places a hand on your back.

"Thank you for seeing me, Commander". You talk to him as he leads you to his office.

"I was going to visit tonight. Is everything ok?"

You stare at him. He was so detached from his actions.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior".

You reach his large oak doors, which he opens for you.

"i am glad to hear it" he follows you in.

"Are these for me?" he asks looking through your basket.

"yes'' you answer.

He pulls out one of the chairs for you to sit in, choosing to lean against the desk as he eats the brownie.

"These are good" he praises, taking another bite.

"I used the macadamias".

He reaches into the basket and offers you one. You decline it.

"I don't think i could ever eat another one. It took a hundred just to keep me semi full".

He nods in understanding, putting it back. He leans forward over you as he speaks.

"one time during the war, I ate a whole jar of paste just to stop the pain in my stomach".

"that must have been awful".

he feels his heart lurch at her words. Finally sympathy. How he longed for it. For someone to care about his suffering.

But he tried to remain nonchalant. Not wanting her to think he was weak.

He shrugs his shoulders, "it was a long time ago".

He brushes his hand together, clasping them shut on his lap.

"So your apology. Lets hear it".

You thought you already had done it with the brownies but he wanted you to grovel some more.

That pesky pride bounces in your chest. But no, you wouldn't let it interfere. Your mother needed the morphling not only for the pain relief but to warn off infection.

"Commander Snow I-"

"Coriolanus" He interrupts.

"Coriolanus" you start again, "I don't know what came over me".

You don't look him in the eyes, keeping your eyes on his shiny shoes. You can't. But you can feel him looking at you.

"My actions are not reflective of the respect I hold for the capital".

The flex of his shoe tells you that he was unpleased with you apology.

"Or you". Yes, the shoe pointed back down. He wanted the focus on him.

"If you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I would never repeat my actions again. You would have my undivided loyalty for your kindness".

He stands up going to his desk chair and folding his hands on top. You eyes rise to watch him. You half expect him to pick up the phone and call a peacekeeper in.

"If you are after my forgiveness you have it. But if you are after my services there are no longer free".

You press your legs together and repeat your mantra; men love the chase but hate the catch.

It was time to be caught. You rise from your chair to stand in front of him. He angles his chair to face you. His legs brush against yours.

"My mother needs morphling". Would it be hint enough.

It seemed to be as he places his hand on your hip.

"And what do you need?". He tugs you down with his hold on your hip and you land awkwardly between his legs. You hold yourself up on the arm of his chair.

"Morphling," you answer. You face was inches away from his. The closest you've ever been without his hands wrapped around your neck.

"Maybe to not have to eat macadamias again?"

His smile throws you off guard. You find yourself dazzled by his straight white teeth poking out behind his plump lips.

"A new dress perhaps?". His hand goes to its favorite place on the side of your face and you can feel his thumb moving back and forth.

"Morphling" you repeat and it earns a laugh from him.

He loved that your needs came second to everyone else's. To his.

"Okay, morphling," he laughs, "What are you willing to trade for morphling? It's not easy to come by".

"Anything". This was it. You would loose you virgnity on the floor of the Commanders office for a case of morphling.

"hm" he muses. He picks up your right hand from the arm of the chair and wraps it around his neck. It throws you off balance.

"How about dinner?". You look at him. Maybe the floor didn't suit a man of his stature. Too animalistic.

"Where?". Did he want to go to a backroom of the hob?

"Your place".

"Tonight?". You had nothing to cook.

"Tomorrow". You still doubted your ability to find something. You doubt your boss would extend her kindness anymore, and all your friends had deserted you until it all blew over.

"do you like macadamias?". You think you still had a handful left. Did it matter. He wasn't truly coming to eat.

"They taste like paste in my mouth", he leans forward and presses a button asking someone to bring in the box.

"I'll be there around 6:30. Keep your mother in the backroom. I don't think she likes me very much".

"She can't even get out of bed" you admit.

He reaches into his draw, pulling out two small bottles of morphling.

"These won't help that but will ease the pain".

You take them fast. "Thank you".

"They aren't free. You owe me".

You jump as you hear the door open. Getting off him, just in time for a women in grey to enter with a small box. Coriolanus remains in a relaxed position in his chair.

"Commander" she greets as she places the box on the table and walks away. You peer into the box to see a small lot of vegetables, a bag of apples, two pears and a small bundle of meat wrapped up in parchment.

"For dinner tomorrow night".

He gets up from his chair taking the box with him, and directs you to the door with a hand on your shoulder.

"Now as much as I have loved seeing you. I have to get to a meeting, and you have to get home".

He leads you back through the building and down the steps to were peacekeepers were loading up into their van for night patrolling.

You buck against him as he pushes you to the van. You felt safer making your own way home.

They salute him, halting their process.

"14 Cherry lane", he nods in your direction. A young peacekeeper nods back.

He places the box on the floor of the van so he had two hands to lift you up. You protest telling him you could get home yourself but you were grabbed by a series of hands and placed on the bench

The men stood, hanging on to the material of the roof to avoid sitting down next to you. You felt safer at least knowing that they were too sacred of Coriolanus to touch you.

The leader of the group, dressed in smarter uniform comes to Coriolanus and confirms it will be done with a salute. Coriolanus pays him no mind, handing the box back up to you.

Two Peacekeepers lock the gate in and the van takes off. Coriolanus watches it go, and you watch him get smaller and smaller as you pass the boundary out of the compound.

The van ride is bumpy and silent. The men look out for protentional danger and you look out for familiar landmarks to track how far you were off.

You see a large red sign that marks the beginning of your neighborhood.

"wait, just here, please" the sound of the van would have the neighborhood looking out the window, and after tonight the judgemental looks of your negibours would be too much to bear.

The driver pulls over and the same peacekeepers unlock the gate for you. As soon as you jump out the van takes back off and your grateful for the darkness that covers you.

You walk back in your uncomfortable high heals. They snag every rock as you walk, and your ankle twists so many times you loose count.

Tomorrow night he would come, and it would all be over.

The next morning Peacekeepers come and reinstall your door. It was a welcomes surprised that earnt a few head nods from your community. It was a mark of the end. Things were returning to normal.

The new door even allowed you to trade the two pears for some pastry and 2 eggs. People were no longer afraid to do business with you.

You spend the rest of the day baking an apple pie for desert, tending to your mother who could now eat and bathe without pain, and tiding up the house for your visitor tonight.

You hopped he would bring more morphling. Your mother woke screaming in pain as a bird entered the house without the door and landed on her back. You had to give her the second bottle to ease her. But it left her dry for tonight.

Extra food would be nice too. The box only really fed a meal for two, and he had expected you to prepare dinner for him tonight with it.

You had thought about feeding your mother first and leaving a plate for him. But knew it would upset him. Dinner involved two people eating together. Instead you would only take small bites until he finished his meal and give the rest to you mother once he leaves.

You wouldn't be able to eat much with the anxiety in your belly anyway. But you assured yourself it would be fine.

He would come and take. And tomorrow morning you would go to work, and then your mothers work to earn both wages. With that and a tightened budget you could afford black market morphling, until that too was just a bad memory.

5 o'clock comes and you busy yourself with cooking and cleaning. When that was finished you dressed yourself back in your best dress and mothers shoes. Your feet cried as the shoes pressed down on the sores they made.

You stare at the clock until it hits 6:30. he didn't appear out of thin air. You wait at the table still.

It hits 6:31 and you think maybe he changed his mind. But a hard knock at the door tells you he hadn't.

You don't keep him waiting. he was an impatient man, and you also didn't want people to see him on your porch.

You yank open the door to see him standing tall in his official uniform and another small box in his hands. His smell hit you instantly. It was fresh and masculine. It was the first time you didn't hold your breathe around him, and his smell invades your nose.

Checking behind him for a peacekeeper van, you found none. Did he walk here, you wondered. But there wasn't a drop of sweat on him. It was unlikely.

"Hello" He greets.

You step back to let him in. He juggles the box in one hand while the other closes the door behind him.

'Hi" you return half-heartedly.

He offers you the box and you take it to the kitchen. He follows you like a lost dog, never allowing more then an inch between you as you walk.

'Dinner's ready. If you're hungry". You look through the box digging for the morphling, but disappointment fills you as you fail to find it.

"Starving" he responds.

He turns you towards him by your hips and smashes his lips down upon yours. he is a needy kisser, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth to stop you from moving before returning to your top lip to restart the kiss.

He pulls way breathless.

'For the morphling, yesterday" He justifies with a peck to your cheek.

What about the morphling, today, you wanted to ask but you weren't sure how he would respond to the question.

Instead you tell him to take a seat at the table and you would bring it out to him.

He sits as he is told. You set two places across from each other. One with their back to the wall leaving the other to face back from the door. Coriolanus takes a seat at the one facing the door. It allowed him to watch you in the kitchen as you plate the food.

He drags the other place mat across the table and seats it next to his. Traditional face to face dinning would not do tonight.

You come over with the plates, noticing the new arrangement. You go with it. Tonight would be about what he wanted.

"It smells amazing. Thank you". He praises.

You smile a tight smile at him. Unable to form words. Your mother would wake soon in a great deal of pain.

he watches you take small bites of your food while he demolishes his.

Your feet ache under the table, the shoes pressing hard into you. You slip the backs off, letting your heels rest on top.

The air carried a awkward silence. He was eating his food while eyeing you. You could tell he was trying to figure out why you chose to spend ten minutes eating a single potato. He knew how hungry you must be.

You needed to keep him focused on himself.

"I didn't hear a van. Did you walk?". You ask. You push your food to the side to make it look like there was an empty space on your plate.

"I parked it in the woods behind. I heard you asked to be dropped off before your stop last night. Figured you didn't want the attention".

"Thank you" you say earnestly.

"You know" he places some stake into his mouth, "people are going to know about us. Most already do".

Us. There was no us. It was commander Snow and a district girl. Entirely separate.

"you're my girl. People should know it".

Your eyes shoot up to his. No. he was going to catch and release.

"the people here-" you start.

"If some one gives you a hard time, you write their name on a piece of paper for me".

You would never do that. You felt your anger flare up and you stomp it down. The door was closed and your mother was injured. No one would come to your aid if you did something stupid.

"Okay?" He presses.

You nod your head in tune to your mothers crying.

Your head snaps back to the bedroom, and then back to Snow.

he made no offer of morphling, as he ate. You wondered how he could stomach it hearing another person cry out.

"Commander Snow".

You were going to ask, saying no wasn't the worse thing he could do but you were desperate.

"Coriolanus. You can call me Coriolanus in private". He wipes his mouth from his dinner with a handkerchief.

You couldn't call him Coriolanus. It was too familiar. So you just continued your sentence.

"I am very grateful for the food that you brought".

Your sentence filled his eyes with light.

"But" they darken at your ongoing, "I was wondering about the morphling that was promised".

"You think you deserve morphling? I told you favor has to be earnt".

Your mother cries out again, calling out for you.

"How would I earn morphling?" here it was his proposition.

"You could try being nicer to me".

You hands ball in frustration. Just say what you want, you begged, You couldn't be the one to offer it.

"I will. I will be nicer, but could I have the morphling now and then we can go to my bedroom?".

"Why would we do that?"

"Please!" you grunt, lunching onto his arm.

"You think I want to fuck you?".

You mother screams for you to come to her and you dig your nails into his uniform.

'You don't?" what the hell was this all for.

"Not until I get back to the Capital".

You lurch up, holding out you hand.

"Coriolanus please"

"who's to say I brought it?".

You knew he did.

''You're welcome to check". He grins, holding out his arms for a pat down.

A sob from your mother had your hands roaming his uniform. Pressing over his arms, and chest for small pockets that he could hide them in.

You pressed against nothing but soft flesh. You go to his uniform belt that was tight around his waist, checking the small compartments built in. He had taken off his hand gun but his handcuffs were still linked over his belt.

He takes hold of the back of your neck tugging you closer so he could brush his teeth against your throat. He kissed and bit as he pleases while you continued to search.

You shake you head at him, trying to keep you throat from his mouth but his hold tightens, going up to your hair.

You pat along his torso. The Commander peacekeeper uniform was intricate there could be a secret compartment anywhere.

When you get to his pant pocket you feel the shape of the small bottle. You dig into his pocket and he catches your wrist.

You tug back but don't make it far. You beg him to release you. You had found the bottle. You had won.

Your mother calls out for you again and he does release you. Letting you go to her.

You run down the hallway to her bedroom. falling to your knees beside her and uncapping the bottle.

"here" you bring it up to her lips but she doesn't take it.

"is he here" .The darkness of the room covers bites on your neck but she still eyes them like she can see them.

"No, mama. No one is here. Drink".

You tilt the bottle to her lips and she sucks it down hungrily. Her eyes droop as she rests her head back on her pillow. You stoke her hair until they close fully.

You couldn't let you emotions get the better of you. You just had to grin and bare it until he leaves. But now he has left you confused. He told you he didn't want to sleep with you until he's back in the Capital.

You thought you knew what tonight was going to hold but now everything is up in the air. Still, at least you knew he had plans to return to the Capital. You wouldn't have to endure him forever.

He could continue the morphling supply. That would save you having to consort with rebels. If you could avoid making him mad.

With your mother asleep you return to the living room where Coriolanus had started to eat your mothers dinner. If she won out in your attention, she lost out on dinner.

You clear you throat, "Thank you".

He looked pissed in his chair, and you were eager to return him to a good mood.

You clear the empty dinner plates from the table,

"Would you like some desert? I baked apple pie just for you".

He liked being center of attention and you would give him special treatment tonight.

He notices your pained walk to the kitchen. The way your knee slightly buckled as you put weight on your left foot. When you reached for the powered sugar in the top shelf, your foot rose from the heal and he could see the redness from where it rubbed.

You pat the sugar on top of the slice of the apple pie and bring it back over to him at a slow pace.

You place it in front of him. You didn't cut a piece for yourself, your throat hurt from bites.

Still he looked unhappy and you worried as he pushed the bowl away from him, and took you into his arm.

With his chair scraped back he positioned you in front of him, shoving you into a sitting position on top of the table.

His hands trailed down to your shoes, and he took them off, rubbing your sore heals. He knew what it was like to wear shoes that were too small.

He sat rubbing your sore feet, you slightly pull away as his strong hands dug into separated skin.

"What about your desert?" You asked. You had planned to try and send him on his way as soon as he ate it.

You strong finger latched themselves around your ankle and threw it over his shoulder. His other hand pushed your dress up around your hips.

You push his shoulders back as his head came between you thighs.

"you said you wouldn't" you squabble.

"I said I wouldn't fuck you. I didn't say we couldn't do other fun things".

His fingers find their way to your panties and he pulls them off, pocketing them.

"Lay down" he demanded, "i have some more morphling if you're good".

You lay flat against your dinner table and squeeze your eyes shut.

he takes both your knees and hooks them over his broad shoulder, pulling you closer to his mouth.

Your body jolts as he lays his lips across your center. Sucking as if it were a juicy stone fruit. You could feel your own wetness and you felt ashamed. But as your boss had said, there were uglier men out there.

As his first lick lands your hand shot out to his head. If he still had his curls you would have grabbed them but you clutched at air.

He laps and sucks hungrily as you wiggle beneath him. You bite back soft moans. This had never been done to you before, and you had no idea you could feel so good.

You could feel him as he spelt out his name with his tongue. C-the O had your hips bucking-R-I- another hard O and a sound crawled its way from your throat- L-A-N-U- he sucked as he finished the S.

You felt his teeth graze your pearl, giving you a second of pain before he went down and started to poke at your entrance.

He was slow and lazy as he ate you out, keeping your thighs in a strong hold. It felt your stomach form knots as he went up and down. Never letting you fully build from one spot.

You could hear him slurping and moaning as he worked. You tried your best to keep quiet. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing it felt good.

But as you came undone, the orgasm that ripples through you demanded to be known. You hand claws at your own face unsure of what to do while the other clamped down on Coriolanus hand on your thighs.

He added his thumb from his spare hand to your pearl and massaged you through your organism. The over stimulation was too much and you kicked at him to release you.

"Just feel it" he ordered.

You did and it left you spent on table.

"Good girl. You took it well". He tugged you down from the table to the floor beneath him where you sunk.

He undid he belt and you guessed it was his turn.

"Hold out your tongue". You did as he asked poking out your tongue to him.

He freed himself just enough to release his throbbing cock. It stood upright begging for attention. You thought it was going to look scarier, but it could have been your own arousal that soften the member.

He grips your chin, pulling down so your mouth was open as he slowly stokes himself over you.

"Kiss it" he challenged.

You press a soft kiss to his tip and he shudders. Was this all it took for the great commander Snow to crumble.

"Take it" he breathed, "Just the tip".

You take just the first part into your mouth, and he reaches down for your hand. You give it to him and he places it around his cock. He moves your hand for you back and forth.

"Get off" he barks but keeps his hand pressed tightly around yours. You take his mouth off him, and watch as he pumps himself with your hand.

You watch him with his head thrown back and eyes closed. You could see his quick breathes passing through his tummy.

He looks down, seemingly irritated by you, he grabs your hair and yanks it back.

"Open" was the only word he could get out.

You resume your position of sticking your tongue out with your mouth open and he goes back to his state of pleasure.

"That's it, baby" he moans, "like that. Yeah".

His hand over yours quickens and you can see him clutching the arm of the chair.

"Fuck, baby" he says as his milk spills out of him.

The salty taste hits your tongue making you instantly close your mouth. It goes all over the floor and your best dress. Your mothers terrible shoes were safe through.

With his claw still in the back of your head, he maneuvers you out of the way as he bends down and scoops some of his cum off the floor.

He pushes it back into your mouth, through your teeth.

"taste me, baby".

He lets you get up after his fingers are clean. You both straighten out your dress wear. He kicks your chair out for you and you take it. Slumping into it, feeling sick.

He reaches for his pie, taking a bite. He groans in appreciation of its taste. Digging his spoon back for more, he lift it to you.

You stare at him dazed before you eat from his spoon, wanting nothing more then to get the taste of him out of your mouth.

He leaves later on with a kiss goodnight and two more bottles of morphling. Enough to last you until tomorrow night. Where you expected to see him and earn some more.

--------

taglist; @namelesslosers @urfavnoirette

[television-overload]

of our own making: beginnings

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 1/2 - puzzle pieces

[Read on AO3]

A/N: True to my word (for once) here's a fic set in my "of our own making" universe, picking up right where we left off in the chapter before the epilogue! If you haven't read "of our own making," you might be a little lost, but I can't stop you from reading it anyway. The second part will be posted tomorrow <3

This is it, the thing she’s scarcely allowed herself to hope for. Mulder—all of him. As a friend. As a partner. As a husband. Now, a lover. 

Her family.

“Your brother’s an idiot,” he says into her mouth, startling a huff of a laugh out of her before he devotes himself entirely to the kiss, giving his utmost care and attention to the fullness of her bottom lip.

She smiles and pulls back just long enough to look at him, his shining, tear-filled eyes and radiant grin making her stomach do somersaults.

“Shut up, Mulder,” she says, cupping his face between her hands.

His fingers brush her tears away, leaving only happiness in their wake.

And she kisses him again.

-.-.-

His awareness of his surroundings, at the moment—though usually rather fine-tuned—is limited only to the soft lips beneath his own, and the echo of I love you, too in his ears. He almost doesn't hear the crescendoing whimpering sounds coming from out in the hall, but she does.

“I guess we should have known that was coming,” she says with a small smile, brushing his hair from his forehead and settling her hand over his cheek to stop him.

At some point, they had wound up reclined on the bed, her hair fanned out over the pillow behind her. His head falls limply into the crook of her neck in defeat, as if he could hide there for just a moment more before their daughter’s complaining turns into full-blown tears.

“Maybe if we stay quiet, she'll…” He trails off, freezing in place. Scully follows suit, turning her ear to the door that sits ajar. It's silent. They wait, neither daring to make a move as they listen to see if the noises will continue, but they don't. It stays blissfully quiet as they both subconsciously hold their breath. The interruption gives him an idea.

“Hey, Scully,” he whispers after a moment, pressing a tentative kiss to her lips, as if testing to see if one tiny peck on the lips might disturb whatever peace their daughter is currently enjoying in her bouncy chair in the hall. “What do you think of me doing some redecorating in my room?”

He runs his hand up her side in a gentle motion, then back down, repeating this pattern like it’s second nature.

“Mm,” she hums, lost in the sensation of his touch. It's new, but at the same time, it's as old as their trust in each other. It’s been there from the very beginning, from the moment his fingertips grazed her back and declared her markings to be mosquito bites.

“I'm thinking some light pink for the walls,” he continues, looking at her intensely to gauge her response.

This gets her attention. “Pink, Mulder?” she asks, a crease appearing between her brows. He resists the urge to smooth it with his lips, laughter bubbling in his chest.

“Yeah,” he says, beaming down at her. “And I've heard they make these tiny little beds for babies. Cribs, I think they're called?”

Now, his meaning cannot be mistaken. He watches Scully's face as her brain connects the pieces of the puzzle, and her expression turns to one of surprise. “Mulder—”

“I mean, if you don't have any objections, that is,” he says, walking back his offer just a little. Has he been too forward? Too presumptive? The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm her. If she needs her space—

“Mulder…” she repeats his name again. And then she's pulling him close, her arms wrapped around his neck. He settles on his side on the bed, pulling her with him and not letting go. She buries her face in his chest, and he has an inkling that her motive might be to conceal another round of tears.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, grinning into her flaming red hair.

She springs another kiss on him in answer, and his heart gives a flutter.

This time, the cry from the hall is sharp, and Scully pulls back again, leaving Mulder to chase her lips as she grudgingly separates herself from his embrace. 

“I have a catalog you can look at in the cabinet,” she says as she gets up from the bed, discreetly wiping a tear from her eye as her lips curl up in a smile. “No hot pink. And no Teletubbies.”

She walks backwards slowly through the door, her eyes never leaving his. As soon as she's out of his sight, Madeline’s cries instantly quiet. 

Mama's here, baby girl. 

Mulder flops back onto the bed, an irrepressible smile adorning his face as he stares up at the ceiling. He can still feel the imprint of her lips on his, her hands in his hair, on his cheek. 

He wonders if he should send Bill a thank you card. Scully’s phone still lays where they had left it on top of the bed spread, mercifully silent.

He knows they haven't heard the last from the eldest Scully sibling, but they have at least earned a brief period of peace.

She loves him, and he loves her. And what everyone else thinks? 

Well, he doesn't particularly care.

-.-.-

Stepping out of Scully’s room feels like entering a parallel dimension. Fifteen minutes ago, he was a man desperately in love with his best friend, silently pining for her while coparenting the child they had adopted together. Now, things have changed. He’s seeing everything in a whole new light. There’s a lot still to be defined, yes, but things are different. Noticeably so.

That’s not his best friend over there feeding the baby a bottle. Well, it is, but it’s also his wife, who it turns out also loves him. Go figure.

There’s a photo of their wedding on the mantle. They put it there for when the representative from the adoption agency came to do a home visit, but she’d kept it up. That meant something, now that he knew. Now that the truth behind their fake relationship had been revealed, and it wasn't as fake as he'd thought.

She smiles at him as he comes to sit beside her on the couch, neither of them saying a word. He gets the sense that she’s thinking along the same lines as him, wondering what this will mean for the plans they have made. Nothing has to change, does it? Some part of him had always hoped they would end up here, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

Starting something like this with lifelong ramifications is scary enough on its own. To do it while sleep deprived and in the midst of the biggest life change he’s ever experienced is crazy—although it’s no different than the typical Mulder and Scully level of crazy, he supposes. They’ve always done things in their own way. It wouldn’t be them if it wasn’t.

“Are you—?”

“Have you—?”

They both start speaking at the same time, chuckling awkwardly when they realize what they’ve done.

“You go first,” Scully says, her cheeks reddening as she glances down at Maddie to avoid eye contact.

He clears his throat. “Have you thought about calling Charlie?” he asks, forcing the words from his lips. The last call with a Scully hadn’t gone well at all, obviously, but he has higher hopes for the youngest. It’s the right thing to do, and they’ve already waited longer than they should have. They can’t keep putting it off forever.

“I’d be surprised if he hasn’t already gotten an earful from Bill,” Scully answers, a frown appearing on her lips. He drapes an arm over the back of the couch, his fingers coming to rest on her shoulder, massaging there lightly. “Could you burp Maddie?” she asks, starting to pass the baby off to him. “I’ll go get my phone.”

He holds Madeline by the armpits, carefully transferring her to his chest as he watches Scully get up and leave. “You don’t have to do it right this second,” he calls across the room, beginning the steady rhythm of pats on the baby’s back.

“No, you’re right,” she says, breezing back into the living room. “I want to talk to him. Now’s as good a time as any.” Before he can say another word, she’s already dialing his number, curling up with her legs crossed on the cushion beside him.

He feels like an intruder on the upcoming conversation, though he knows he’s almost certainly welcome. And after how the talk with Bill Jr. had gone, he’s not about to leave her to face this by herself again, though he doubts they’ll have a repeat performance of what had happened before.

She sits so close to him, he can feel the warmth of her body. He can hear with perfect clarity when Charlie’s voice comes across the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Charlie.”

“Hi, Dana.”

On his shoulder, Maddie lets out a burst of air, relaxing into his hold. Scully flashes him a small smile.

“So,” Charlie continues, the silence lasting just a little too long.

“I have a feeling you know why I’m calling,” Scully starts, her posture growing tense. “Has Bill spoken to you?”

Her fears are confirmed in the sigh that comes across the line next.

“Yeah. Yeah, he has,” he answers.

Scully settles back into the cushions of the couch, her shoulders slumping. “Charlie–”

“I've been wondering since Christmas what you guys were actually up to,” he says, just the barest hint of laughter in his tone of voice. “I feel like I can die happy now finally having an answer.”

She sighs, running a hand over her face in relief that he seems to be joking rather than taking it the way Bill had. “Well, don't do that. Your niece would like to meet you.”

“Niece, huh?” he asks. “Nice. Bill couldn't even tell me her name, if you can believe that.”

Mulder could. Mulder could definitely believe that. His heart broke for Scully. 

“It’s Madeline. Maddie,” she answers.

Mulder wonders what time it is, wherever Charlie is. He sounds tired. But then, so would Mulder if he’d just had an exhausting conversation with Scully’s older brother, so he really couldn’t fault him for that.

“Please tell me you gave her Mulder's last name,” Charlie pleads. “That would really send Bill over the edge.”

Scully bites back a smile, and it sends a thrill right through him. He’d never get tired of hearing her say their daughter’s full name aloud. The honor of her passing on both his sister's name and his last name is one he'll never be able to repay, no matter how much he may try. 

“Madeline Samantha Mulder,” she confirms, suppressing a laugh at the way her brother cheers.

“Yes! Oh, Dana, have I ever told you that you're my favorite?” he says. “Melissa would be so proud of you.”

Mulder watches as her eyes turn wistful, seemingly focused on something thousands of miles away. “Thanks, Charlie,” she says, biting her lip. “I wish—” The next words seem to catch in her throat, but Mulder understands, and he knows Charlie does too. He holds out his hand, delighting in the way she seamlessly slips hers into his palm without even looking. She tries to finish her thought, but it isn’t necessary. “You know, I wish she—”

“I do too.” Charlie speaks softly. 

The line falls silent for a moment, the two siblings lost in the memory of their fallen sister, and Mulder lost in the memory of his. 

“She told me about Mulder once, you know,” Charlie says eventually. “Years ago.”

Mulder shifts, intrigued. 

“She did?” Scully asks.

“Yeah, after you were…” He trails off here and whistles an eerie, spooky-sounding tune rather than finishing his sentence.

Mulder grins, and Scully rolls her eyes. Predictable like the tides in the ocean, both of them are.

“She told me she'd just met our future brother-in-law,” he continues. “I didn't think she was serious. Just another of her wild predictions that doesn't come close to coming true. When I saw you both at Christmas, though…”

“I'm sorry we didn't invite you,” Scully interrupts him.

Mulder can almost see the younger man waving off her apology on the other side of the phone. “Nah, I've been to a fake wedding before,” he says nonchalantly. “You seen one, you've seen 'em all.”

Scully shakes her head, her eyes filled with mirth instead of the sadness that had been there before. For a few moments, they sit in comfortable silence, thankful to Charlie for being his usual, understanding self. 

“Bill was pretty worked up, though,” he adds after a pause, “yelling about a “sham marriage” and all that.”  

Scully sighs—frustrated, but not surprised, by Bill's continued behavior. 

“But it isn't, is it?” Charlie asks knowingly.

Scully’s eyes flick up to meet Mulder’s, and he gives her a small smile and a nod, his fingers reaching for hers on her lap. 

“No. It's not,” she answers breathlessly, swallowing back some emotion. Tears prick at Mulder’s eyes too, and he bows toward her to press a kiss to her forehead. “Turns out we're really bad about lying to ourselves out of some misguided fear of being open with each other,” she adds.

Charlie gives an exaggerated gasp. “No, you?”

Scully closes her eyes and sighs, her lips curled up in a smile. Mulder gives her fingers a squeeze.

“I'm sorry, Charles,” she says.

“Hey, just invite me to your next wedding, ‘kay?”

Now, that's an idea…

-.-.-

The rest of the day is spent looking after Madeline, marveling at her tiny features and trying to catch some sleep whenever she does—a task that Mulder, notorious insomniac, finds impossible. Scully insists he try to rest, though, and only when she puts on some kind of chick-flick period drama as background noise does he have any success. He conks out right on her shoulder before Colin Firth’s Mr. Darcy even appears on screen, his jaw hanging open slightly in his sleep.

She watches him for a moment, noting every freckle on his skin, the slope of his nose, the flop of hair hanging over his forehead now that his hair has started to grow back out. Maddie lays tucked away in her pack ‘n play already, swaddled in a pink blanket and snoozing peacefully.

She could sit like this forever, Scully thinks, listening to the even breaths of the two people she loves most in this world; But unfortunately, reason must prevail. She can almost hear the parenting class instructor’s voice in her ear reminding her to sleep when the baby sleeps, so she dutifully reaches for the knit blanket on the cushion beside her, and drapes it over herself and Mulder. 

He won’t mind, she remembers with a smile as she curls into his side, tucking her feet underneath herself. Since this morning, he’d hardly been able to keep his hands off her, personal space apparently a thing of a bygone era. They could live in an apartment half the size of this one, with as close as Mulder had stuck to her all day. His hand was practically glued to her lower back, even when she was just putting away dishes or preparing formula for Maddie.

He seemed to revel in this newly sanctioned element of their relationship, and was taking full advantage of it at every possible opportunity. Not that she was complaining; She was as guilty of it as he was, if not more so. For years, she’d had to resist the temptation to hold him. There had to be a limit to the friendly touches they could bestow, or they would’ve been forced to acknowledge that their feelings were anything but platonic.

But now, they’ve broken free of those limitations. He is hers, and she is his. In every possible way.

She sighs, leaning her cheek against his warm shoulder. The piano music coming from the TV is barely audible, but as her eyes drift shut, it relaxes her. In his sleep, Mulder shifts, nestling deeper into the cushions. His head lolls to the side, landing on top of her head, and she feels him exhale. The picture they must pose is like two pieces of a puzzle, perfectly fitted together. For the first time in her adult life, she feels complete.

She has all she needs right here. 

-.-.-

After dinner, and a sponge bath for Madeline that leaves her less than thrilled, Scully sends Mulder off to take a shower while she puts the baby to bed.

“Let’s get you all warm,” she says to Maddie as she lays her down on the changing table. She grabs an infant-sized diaper and puts it on her with practiced ease, smiling at the sound of water running and Mulder humming on the other side of the wall.

That's her husband.

“Daddy has a nice voice, doesn’t he?” she says conversationally, maneuvering Maddie’s arms and legs into the onesie. “I’ll spare you from mine.”

Before she zips up the pajamas, she bends over and tickles her tummy, pressing a kiss to her baby soft skin.

“All clean after your bath, hmm? Doesn’t it feel nice?”

Madeline blinks up at her, apparently deciding whether or not to forgive her for the cold and wet first experience in the baby bathtub. She had been cranky in the last half hour, even before the bath. It’s definitely time for bed.

She fights sleep for as long as possible, draining her bottle quickly and then crying inconsolably until her exhaustion wins out and her eyes close. Scully watches her, her face relaxed in sleep, and can hardly believe this is her life. 

She rocks her for a few more minutes, listening as the shower eventually turns off in the bathroom. A muffled swear sounds through the wall, followed by the clatter of several objects hitting the floor. Her collection of lotions, if she had to guess. Not breakable, at least, but to be fair to Mulder, they were in a spot that was just asking for them to be knocked over.

With one last glance back at Maddie, who is mercifully still asleep, she slowly rises from the rocking chair. Taking extra care not to jostle her in the transfer, she places her in her bassinet, watching as her chest rises and falls evenly with every breath.

A gentle knock on the bedroom door pulls her from her reverie, and she feels her heart give a lurch. She pulls herself away from Maddie’s bassinet, her stomach fluttering with butterflies as she approaches the doorway. Deep breaths, Dana. It’s just Mulder, she reminds herself.

Her hand clasps the doorknob, and she twists it, pulling the door open. At the sight of him, her lips curl into a smile, and she feels all traces of nervousness melt away.

He’s looking at her with that boyish smile of his, his hair all spiky from the shower. Droplets of water bead on the tips of his hair like early morning dew, every so often dripping onto the soft gray t-shirt he wears. Each one leaves a mark where it lands, absorbed into the fabric.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

He has the pillow from his bed tucked under his arm like he’s ready for a sleepover, and he fiddles with the hem of the pillowcase, waiting oh so patiently for her next move.

She makes it.

Grabbing him by the arm, she pulls him inside, walking backwards with him slowly as he grins at her.

He kicks the door shut behind them.

-.-.-

Tag List: @today-in-fic @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @is-on-its-way @limnsaber @monaiargancoconutsoy @numinousmysteries @pookie-mulder @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

[viktoriaashleyyx]

Chapter 2 is here!

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet.

This one is mainly fluff.(?) (I am not sure what tw to put on this) mutual bathing. Making out. They accept the mating bond, no smut that's next.

I would love to hear any criticisms.

Ch1 Ch3

Chapter 2:

We sat there for a long while, until we were interrupted by the grumbling of his stomach. I looked up at him with wide doe eyes “you're hungry.” Not a question. We never got a chance to accept the mating bond before I left, and I remembered this tradition. I scoured the realms and planned what meal I would prepare for him first. I learned how to cook the best meal of every town I had visited. I knew exactly what I wanted to prepare for him and had even packed the ingredients in my bag. I had held all hope that I would finally make it home and I was right.

“You don't need to worry about that.” he breathed, his strong arms still wrapped around me.

“It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to, you have to eat. But if I am being honest I have looked forward to this meal since the day the bond snapped into place.” I consoled him.

“I am no longer the man I was when you left. Amarantha, Feyre, Hybern and Lucien have broken me.” His arms finally released me and he pulled away. The pain in his eyes, he was utterly alone here and he believed he deserved it. “I am a monster, now, Sky.”

Good, I've developed a monster fucking kink. No wait, now is not the time to say that thought out loud. I grabbed his face in my hands and looked him in the eye “Do you still have love in your heart for me?”

“Always. I would die for you. I would burn this world to the ground to find you again, now that I know you're alive.”

“But would you live for me? Would you heal, and rebuild? Would you face and confront your traumas and mistakes, and atone for those you hurt in the interim? Would you rebuild your, no, our court and work to regain the trust of our people?”

His emerald eyes looked deep into mine before he muttered a soft “yes, all of it.”

“I will accept nothing less. You are good, you are kind. I know your heart. You are deserving of love. Allow me the right to make my own decisions. Now I am going to make you food.”

He didn't argue any further, just looked in my eyes, searching, as if waiting for the punchline, waiting for another cruel joke. What has my horribly cruel brother done to him? “I love you, Tamlin. I always have. I am home now, please allow me the pleasure of proving it to you.” I spoke softly, burying my face in his neck holding him once more. He embraced me again and I could feel a few tears dropping onto my shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Tamlin admitted with a raspy broken sigh. I looked at him, with star bright eyes and a wide smile.

“So you agree? I am home? And you will let me make you food, knowing what it means?” almost too excited, I asked with a big smile. His face relaxed and he allowed himself an amused half smile.

“If you wish, I will gladly accept.” Relief poured from his voice.

“Yay! Now help me clean the kitchen so I can cook, I have all the ingredients in my bag here.” I requested, no, commanded excitedly. With a wave of his hand the kitchen was spotless. “If you are able to do that, why is the manor such a mess?” I scolded.

“I missed the last Calanmai, and the one before that Lucien stood in for me.” he answered, “it's been a rough few years. My power is dwindling.”

“We are gonna have to fix that, aren't we?” I said bluntly. He took a seat at the small table in the middle of the kitchen and watched as I prepared to make him the best stew I had ever had. “You have a lot on your mind, speak freely as I cook, I will keep my questions limited.”

“I killed her.”

“Who? Amarantha?” I asked, he nodded his head. I put the knife down and walked over to him, wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. “I am so proud of you.” He looked at me like he hadn't heard those words in a very long time, it broke my heart.

I returned to the stew, “I could never hurt your brother. If he were anyone else, I would've killed him a long time ago, but he was the closest thing I had left of you. He died in the hybern war, and through everything I should've left him. His mate, my ex, Feyre destroyed my court and I knew that if it had been me laying there no one would've batted an eye. Feyre screamed and pleaded for me to revive him. I almost had the strength to walk away, for 300 years I mourned you, I will admit I had lost hope of you ever returning. But that hope sparked one last time and I revived him. I told her to be happy, but it was for you.” I had so many questions, stories we would need to catch up on, but that's not for now.

“You should've let him rot.” my response was gentle enough, brother or not, Rhysand was a selfish brat who never utilized his daemati powers for anything that didn't get him what he wanted. A spitting image of our father. “But you've always had a kinder heart than me, Tamlin.”

He released a sad chuckle at my words as if to say ‘I know.’ “The lady of Autumn had the baby all our mothers were stressing about, Lucien, he became my closest friend. And yes, he did look like Helion.”

“No” I gasped.

“And Beron knew it. He treated him cruelly and dropped him at my border. I took him in almost 200 years ago. It's only recently with the events of Amarantha and Feyre that he's left, but he stops by every now and then. If a male with long red hair and a golden eye stops by, don't hurt him.”

I giggled “so you do remember me well. Thank you for the heads up.” I poured him a bowl and sat it in front of him. He held my gaze for a minute, still in disbelief. Any hope he did have when he woke up this morning, couldn't compare to what is happening now. He slowly picked up the spoon and began eating.

“This is delicious, what kind of meat is this?” He asked between bites.

“Bear.” I answered.

He was filthy, his hair matted and his clothes ripped. As he ate I grabbed a wooden hairbrush I found and began to work out the knots, gently. He savored every bite and when he finished, he leaned back almost to show how good it felt and to allow me to finish detangling his long blonde hair. When I was done I pulled his head back ever so slightly just to leave a kiss on his forehead.

He took my hand, guided me around to face him and pulled me onto his lap straddling him. “Thank you, it's been a long time since I've felt a gentle caring touch from anyone. It means more than you realize.” He admitted, but I could tell, he was holding back, putting on a strong facade. He needed me just as much as I needed him, that much was true.

“Good thing I have no intention of letting you go anytime soon.” I breathed, my eyes drifting from his to his lips. I had always heard that men go absolutely feral by this point, does he not want me? Why is he being so cautious? I leaned closer and he got the hint. His lips met mine, gentle at first, his gorgeously muscled arms wrapped around my waist. I bit his bottom lip playfully, and he smiled, amused. He deepened the kiss, his hands traveling up my back to pull me closer, my hands tangling themselves in his gorgeous blonde hair. I pulled away, “You could use a bath first.”

He grunted “you're probably right.” Most would take offense to this, but he knew me, he knew my blunt outbursts were merely observations and meant nothing more. Generally, he found them amusing. He once explained to me that he hated having to guess everyone's thoughts and moods all the time, he's not a daemati, and my willingness to admit what I was thinking, so clearly and straightforwardly, was a breath of fresh air for someone growing up in a royal home.

He led me up the stairs to his chambers. My attention wandering from the destruction around me, to the beautiful strong hand holding mine. As we entered the large room he called his, I was taken aback in pure astonishment of what hung over his bed. My mouth gaped open as I stared at the painting. “Just the rumors of your artwork has gotten me into a lot of trouble. I’ve never let anyone else in here.” There, hung above his bed was the picture I had painted of my own wings. I spent weeks, no, months perfecting it until it looked like my actual wings were encapsulated in the canvas. He had always complimented them and when I started to excel in my art, he requested this specifically. Most days he would sit next to me and point details out and give me direction and praise.

“You still have it.” was all I was able to mutter.

“Why would I ever get rid of something so perfect?” he smiled at me. I shook myself out of awe and tried to focus. Bath, that's right.

“Do the hand waving and clean this room too,” I demanded as we entered the connected bathroom. A large white tub with golden clawed feet sat in the middle, and I searched through the cupboards for the soaps and oils. I tried to divert my gaze as he undressed and climbed into the warm water he had conjured. I would say every inch of him was sculpted by the gods, if I hadn't met the gods and realized what ridiculousness they actually engaged in. “Now dunk under and wet your hair so I can wash it.” I sat at the head of the tub, scrubbing shampoo into his scalp and massaging oils into the length. He purred in approval. This is everything I have wanted, to take care of him, and for him to care for and protect me. I hated the fighting, the battles, the training and being dirty and covered in blood that wasn't mine. I was good at it, but every night I would lie down and dream of my life at the Spring court. I would dream of having a big comfy bed, a daily bath, and his arms wrapped around me. I wanted to spend my days painting, dancing, singing or just annoying him while he completed trivial tasks only he deemed important.

He rinsed the soaps out of his hair and drained the water. I was still lost in my thoughts of what I had missed, had I truly gotten it back? He wrapped a towel around his waist and helped me to my feet. I stood before him and looked up at him, hoping the wonder and love I was feeling translated to his understanding. “Thank you, my love, you have helped me feel like I'm worth something again,” he admitted, looking down to me and running a gentle hand along the side of my face. He was so much taller than me. “I think it's your turn.”

True, I don't remember the last time I was able to bathe properly. He re filled the bath with slightly hotter water this time, and I began to peel off the layers of leather and chain I had collected off the monsters I killed. He turned his gaze out of respect and I giggled.

“Am I really that bad to look at?” I teased giving him a sly smile. “You can drop the gentleman act, I know you want to look”

He gave me a cautious smile, his gaze fixed on my eyes “forgive me love, the shock is still settling, it all seems to be happening so fast… but I don't want it to slow down.”

“3 centuries of waiting is too fast?” I teased as I lowered myself into the hot bath. I sighed as I cherished the feeling. I grabbed a rag with some soap and started scrubbing my face, working my way down. He took my place at the head of the bath and began carefully undoing the intricate braids I kept my black hair in to preserve the length that touched my waist and keep it out of the way. I finished scrubbing my body down and leaned my head back, enjoying the feeling of his gentle hands massaging the shampoo into my scalp. I always loved my men with long hair because that meant they knew how to help me care for mine. It was as if we were washing the past 300 years off eachother, to start anew. As he finished I dunked my head under and he reached for my wings.

He grabbed a fresh washcloth, wet it and added a small amount of soap and oil. He carefully stretched out my wing as I allowed him and began running the warm rag across the entirety of the dark sensitive skin. My eyes rolled back, I could climax just by this feeling alone. No one, save for him, has ever been this gentle with me. I let out a soft sigh and opened my eyes to catch his. He stood next to me, soft towel in one hand, the other extended to guide me up and out. I took his hand and stood up, I tripped getting out and fell straight into his chest. We both giggled as I corrected my footing but not pulling away. His hands rested on my back holding me up.

His loving and amused face turned to concern. “It's been so long, my love, I don't know if I can hold back if I loosen my restraint. I want you so badly, but I don't want to hurt you.”

I smiled and pulled his head down closer to whisper in his ear “I like it rough.”

And with that he wrapped his hands around my waist and picked me up, I locked my legs around him and kissed him, hard and passionately, as he carried me over to the bed.

♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list: @ladythornofrivia @rin-u-pos @rcarbo1

Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist.

[bwat5-blog]

Hope Chapter 5

*Sorry this one took so long, I've been out of town!*

Jinx sits by Vi’s bed, squeezing her hand, unwilling to let her go. Jinx had promised she would tell both Vi and Caitlyn where she went but had asked for some time alone with Vi, which Caitlyn had gladly given her.

“You’re squeezing like you’re afraid I’m going to vanish, Po—Jinx,” Vi says softly, a lazy, sleepy, smile on her face. Tobias had rushed in when Caitlyn told him Vi was awake, and after a thorough exam, he was thoroughly pleased. Though he still gave her some medicine to manage the pain, which made her a bit tired.

Jinx punches Vi’s muscular arm extremely gently. “You almost did, fat hands… and don’t sweat the name tonight. I’m so happy to hear you speaking—call me whatever you want.” She chuckles, wiping away a tear.

Vi nods, squeezing back and exhaling. She looks around through bleary eyes.

“Caitlyn told me you’ve been helping take care of me… thank you, Jinx.”

A nauseating shame and heat spread through Jinx’s stomach, and she pulls her hand away, shaking her head. “Don’t do that… don’t thank me.”

Vi looks concerned and tries to prop herself up. “Hey, hey, hold on, it’s okay.”

Jinx scoots back, tearing up. “No. Don’t do that. You were hurt because of me. You almost died because of me. Why did you do that?” Jinx feels her heart pounding, and she closes her eyes tightly against the memory of Vi’s blood washing over her, her soft whisper telling Jinx she loved her even as she was dying.

“Jinx hey it’s okay just breathe” Vi says reaching for Jinx’s hand.

Jinx stands and moves back from the bed, the chair banging against the floor. She looks at Vi and sobs, “I didn’t deserve that! I didn’t deserve to be saved! All I do is hurt people. I…” Jinx sinks to her knees like someone cut her strings and shakes. “I almost killed you… I shot at you… I tried to blow you up… I hit you… I…”

She stops, feeling strong arms envelop her completely and hearing Vi’s voice, rough and coarse from sleep and the medication but bearing the full force of a protective older sister.

“We both hurt each other” Vi pauses and gently lifts Jinx’s face to meet her eyes before continuing…”and we both saved each other… I was dying in that pit, Jinx… you pulled me out. I would have died in Stillwater or been broken beyond saving if I didn’t have you to come home to. You saved Caitlyn. And she told me that all you cared about, even when you were suffering so terribly after… after Isha… was getting me to safety. And you meant the world to that little girl, just like you do to me. I did what I did because I love you, and you are my sister. It isn’t about deserve. It’s about what we do for each other.”

Jinx totally breaks, sobbing into Vi’s chest and clutching her like when she was little and missing her parents or had a bad dream. She buries her face in Vi’s shirt, shaking. “I love you… I’m so sorry I didn’t say it when you… when you did that for me. And I was so afraid I’d never get to tell you.”

Vi smiles. “I know, sis… I know… just like Isha knew… and listen. I am so… so sorry about Isha. I didn’t get to know her very long, but it was clear how special she was. And how much you loved her.”

Jinx nods, crying. “She… made me feel peaceful… like maybe I wasn’t all bad…”

Vi hugs Jinx to her. “You aren’t. You never have been. You hurt people, Jinx. But so did I. So did Cait. All we can do moving forward is help each other be better.”

Jinx smiles and wipes her eyes as the door opens and Caitlyn walks in, asking politely, “Do you want some more time?”

Vi shakes her head and gestures for Caitlyn to come. Caitlyn and Jinx help Vi back to bed and sit next to her as Caitlyn turns to Jinx.

“I really don’t mean to push, but I want to make sure your pardon is protected. Are you ready to explain where you went?” she asks gently.

Jinx swallows, unsure of how much to say, but decides, in the spirit of their new start, to just be honest and tells them everything from start to finish. At the mention of the Zaunite representative who wanted Caitlyn lashed, a deep growl rumbles in Vi’s throat, but Caitlyn kisses her cheek, and the sound vanishes as she blushes bright red. Jinx gets to the end of her tale and turns to Caitlyn.

“I… discussed your recompense to Zaun with Sevika. Maybe it would be better for you to say it.” Jinx darts her eyes toward Vi with obvious meaning.

Caitlyn blanches but nods. She turns to Vi. “I… I suggested that… in the interest of peace, I will be going into exile in Ionia.”

Vi’s eyes shoot open, and she bares her teeth. “Fuck that! Why would you do that?!”

Caitlyn stammers. “Violet, I… I did so much harm. I just think it would be better for the two cities if I—”

“Caitlyn, stop it and tell her the truth,” Jinx says firmly but reaches out and lays her hand on Vi’s arm.

Caitlyn goes pale. She looks at Vi, and her lip quivers the slightest fraction before she regains that iron control.

“I don’t deserve you, Vi… I don’t deserve any of this anymore. I allowed my rage and pain to taint everything I hold dear. I… I hurt you… I hit you.” Caitlyn is now crying.

“I think I have heard enough about what the two of you deserve,” Vi says firmly, but she takes both of their hands in her large, calloused ones.

She scoots up more and gently pulls them both a little closer. “We have all messed up… we have all caused pain… but I don’t want that to rule the rest of our lives. So, let’s talk about what I deserve. I deserve my little sister in my life.” She jerks Jinx toward her suddenly, making her fall onto the bed, and loops an arm around her while Jinx protests. “And I deserve the woman I love by my side.” She jerks again, and a squawking Caitlyn falls onto her other side as she loops her arm around her.

“So. Tell me, Cupcake, how many rooms does your place in Ionia have?”

[mrsshabana]

while reading Against All Odds I was like "AAAA JUST KISS ALREADY" in every chapter before they started dating- So I was wondering , how would AAO gyutaro react if in the middle of a study date the reader just couldn't take it anymore and said "gyutaro I really want to kiss you O-O " out of nowhere

Kissing Gyutaro in the middle of a study date ~ ♥

Against All Odds - Gyutaro x Female!Reader

Gyutaro had invited you over for a study date. Another study date. It seems like he invites you over to study at least 3 times a week, even though most of the time the two of you get distracted and start talking or watching youtube videos together.

But this time, he is adamant about studying. Making sure that you remember everything for this upcoming anatomy exam.

But even though he is focusing so hard on studying, you can't seem to focus on anything but him. Your gaze fixated on his hunched form.

He sits across from you on the bed, his head buried in the textbook sitting on his lap. He goes back and forth between the book and his flash cards.

You stare at his lips as he mumbles to himself.

"Gyutaro, I really want to kiss you," you say without really thinking.

He immediately looks up at you. His face red and eyes wide.

"Wh-what...?" he mumbles.

You blush with embarrassment when you realize what you've just said. But there's no going back now, so you might as well take what you want.

Leaning forward, you caress Gyutaro's face and press your lips against his.

His body goes stiff, and he stares at you as you kiss him. His thoughts start spiraling.

SHE'S KISSING ME! SHE'S KISSING ME! Why the fuck is she kissing me?! I didn't put on chapstick! I'm not ready for this! FUCK!! It feels so good though... her lips are so soft... and she smells so sweet...

He begins to calm down. Closing his eyes and reciprocating the kiss. You swear that you can hear a soft moan escape his lips. He puts his hand on your thigh and leans forward. Getting lost in your affection.

When you pull away from the kiss, the two of you just stare at each other. Unable to believe that that actually just happened.

Gyutaro speaks up first, "Wh-why did you do that?"

"Because... It's something that I've been wanting to do for a very long time," you admit.

Gyutaro frowns. Everything within him is telling him to reject you. That he should break your heart so you won't ever try to be close to him again. It'd be for your own safety after all. Do you not understand that you just kissed a demon? And not just any demon, one of the most dangerous demons on campus? For a moment he thinks you are just some stupid girl, blindly following her emotions. But he knows that's not true. And he knows that he can pretend all he wants, but he will never be able to deny how he truly feels about you.

"It's something that I've wanted for a very long time too," he smiles shyly, "Maybe... we could do it again?"

[kissorkill16]

Fill My Empty Heart: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: After Mya's death, Aaron committed suicide. Mr. Peterson, desperate to have a family again, kidnaps the depressed and heartbroken child across the street, Nicky Roth.

Chapter 2

Nicky felt like he was going to go into a dehydration coma with how much he cried this past hour. The floor was practically a pool.

He remembered throwing up a couple of times in the toilet, but it wasn't really much, considering he hasn't been eating a whole lot these past few weeks.

He flushed the toilet and walked out of the stall, and he was shocked to see Enzo, Ivan, Maritza, and Trinity standing there.

Nicky backed up to go back inside the stall, but Maritza pulled him forward.

"Feeling better now?", she asked. Nicky nodded, then gently pushed her out of the way to walk to the sink to wash his face.

"That was the right thing to do, Nick.", said Trinity. "I was already planning to hit him with something harder than a chair."

"Babe, let's not encourage Nicky to hit people with heavy objects.", said Enzo. Trinity smiled and rolled her eyes, "You can't say he didn't deserve it."

"Would Nicholas Roth please report to Ms. Brown's office?"

Everyone turned to Nicky, and the boy immediately walked out of the bathroom and to the counselor's office.

Ms. Brown was sitting at her desk, her hands folded and a worried look on her face. "Have a seat, Nicky."

Nicky listened to her, sitting across from the woman.

"I'd like to talk to you about your recent behavior.", she said, "And for you to explain why you hit Mr. Jenkins and Mr. Smith in the face with your chair."

Nicky rolled his eyes and stood up, "Right."

Ms. Brown stood up with him, "Just...please, Nicky. I want to help you."

Nicky reluctantly sat back down, not looking at her in the eye.

"They said they were happy that Aaron killed himself.", said Nicky. "Who in their right minds think that suicide is funny?"

Ms. Brown softly gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my goodness. Nicky, I can assure you that suicide is no joke."

"Exactly!"

"How long has it been like this for you?", asked the counselor.

Nicky looked down at his shoes, "For...I don't know, a couple of weeks?"

Ms. Brown sighed.

"Nicholas, I understand how you feel.", she said. Nicky looked at her incredulously, "Do you really? Aaron was special to me, he was the first friend I've made since I got to this town and now he's gone."

Ms. Brown softly smiled, "Maybe to everyone else, but not to you.", she said. "I can tell he's with you right now."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You hold onto the memories you two shared together as best friends, and you don't want to let them go, because Aaron was special to you. While everyone else treated him as just someone they'll forget in days, you treated him as something precious. To you, he's more than just a child who killed himself."

Nicky looked down at his shoes again, "Yeah...he was my best friend."

"Does anyone else understand that?"

Nicky shook his head. "I don't think any of my friends ever really liked Aaron. My parents...well..."

Ms. Brown worriedly looked at the boy, "Are they around enough to help you through your grieving?"

"...Sometimes."

The counselor sighed, got up from her chair and walked over to the boy. "You don't need to say anything else, I feel like I already know the answer."

Nicky still didn't make eye contact with Ms. Brown, he just listened to her.

"This is so you don't get into anymore trouble.", she said. "I want you to try and take some deep breaths and think about all of the times where you were such a happy, young child."

A moment of silence passed through the room, "Okay.", said Nicky.

Then out of nowhere, Nicky felt himself begin to cry. He wrapped his arms around Ms. Brown's waist and buried his face into her torso. Ms. Brown stilled for a moment, then she wrapped her arms around Nicky and started gently rubbing his back.

"Thank you so much.", cried Nicky.

Ms. Brown smiled again, "You're welcome, Nicky."

[myeagleexpert]

The Silence of the Seven

Synopsis:

The peaceful atmosphere is shattered when Yuu finds one of her friends in a coma of unknown causes. Determined to uncover the truth, Yuu and her friends begin investigating the case and discover a curious pattern that links the victims. But as the investigation progresses, they find themselves in a tangle with powerful enemies, and this time the danger is out of Twisted Wonderland. Yuu and her friends will have to fight against unknown forces to find answers and unravel the mystery before it's too late.

Notes: I won't give many warnings before each chapter, because, you know, the suspense. Yuu is a girl and is around 18 years old. I'm just saying that we will have many platonic and romantic moments in the series, and that you always read until the end of the chapter <3

Chapter I: I'll Get You

Yuu walked through the long corridors of the ancient library, passing them as if he knew every old corner and every forgotten book. Because actually, she does. As soon as she arrived in this strange world, she tried in every way to return to her original dimension, digging through all the books on multi-dimensional travel, mining any and all information about how to return home. But that's not why she's here today and with Riddle much less.

“If you want to survive in this world, you have to learn about it”

It was the purpose Riddle insisted on taking some classes with the foreign student. The leader of Heartslabyul had crimson red hair and the temper of a kindergarten principal, his nostrils always smoked and his mouth recited the 810 questionable laws of the Queen of Hearts. If not for the beautiful blue-gray eyes, Yuu would have joined the chaos of anarchy, but being peaceful she opted for one provocation or another.

"Riddle, I've been wondering, are these laws really necessary?" usually this led to some fun discussions with the grinning Cheshire cat

Today they were at a secluded table in the ancient library, discussing the origin of some figures and mythology.

“According to historians, the Queen of Hearts had a proportionate head, but due to an accident just before the coronation, she suffered an injury that led to swelling of her head.”

“And your ego…” Yuu muttered, he had several things to say about the tyrannical majesty but bit his tongue… today at least

"What did you say?"

“What about the creatures from the Kingdom of Roses?”

“It is said that the creatures are extinct species from the kingdom during the colonization…- he stopped and looked for the page in the book with illustrations- When the settlers tried to explore some unknown lands it was reported that they found flowers so tall that they stopped them from going on, so they decided to cut them down and heard voices from the forest expelling them.” Was that supposed to be scary? An idea flashed through the mind of the magicless student, her eyes glistening with memories and she did the best horror storytelling voice she could muster.

“The legends here are very interesting, but in my world we have a different view of nature”

“Ah, please tell me Yuu.” Riddle leaned forward as Yuu approached, naturally curious and thirsty for knowledge.

“In the era of exploration, a rich farmer wanted to increase his lands and for that, he destroyed the protected lands of the indigenous people. Once he took his foreman to open the forest in a sacred land and on this day, the furious nature sent a creature with a head of fire and feet turned backwards to end man's miserable life.”

Widening his eyes and holding his breath, Riddle silently nodded his head for Yuu to continue "With an animalistic scream the creature drove a fiery stake through the heart of the man who fell 'dead' to the ground-

“Why the quotes? Is he not dead?” Rido questioned the physical quotation marks his friend made, but felt an immediate chill when he saw how much his face darkened.

“However… he was so hideously terrible that both heaven and hell rejected him and earth refused to bury such a devilish soul. The now Dry Corps was cursed eternally into a condition of filthy spirit doomed to roam the cities until the end of time but… it is said that if the Dry Corps finds a host as bad as it is, it will possess it and use the living body to do even worse evils until a stronger entity of nature appears.”

The so stern leader of Heartabull kept his eyes fixed on a specific corner, he felt anesthetized with so much information that he had just heard so much that he didn't even notice that Yuu had gotten up from his chair with the mischievous intentions of scaring him from behind.

“Riddlee~” with a light pat, the red-haired one let out a high-pitched squeal that, yes, the entire library heard.

“Oh by the Seven! Yuu!”

"Riddle-chan, you shouldn't make noise in the library, you know?" teased him

“I wouldn't have yelled if you hadn't—

“Yanoo….cans of tuna…” a darling feline, Grim, was sleeping peacefully with no problems on top of the books when he escaped words in his sleep Such an action, brought to the two leaders childish and innocent giggles, which were muffled by the soft fur of Grimm. A sweet moment few would ever see…

And like all good things come to an end….

"Aaaah Kingyo-chann I know you're there" a very familiar voice of the two echoed through the halls

“Aa-ah Floyd! He can't see me, otherwise I'll be late for the Riding Club" his little antennae flick up in warning and in agitated whispers he turns to Yuu

"I distract him, Grim takes him to the corridor 03 passage" whispered back Yuu and traded a can of tuna for his companion

The girl knew the secret passages of the NRC like the back of her hands, and Riddle trusted them so because Ramshackle's memorable duo were like brothers to him, which was very difficult considering the walls and barriers that had been built since his overblot .

“See you later, thank you.” "Thank you"

A code of signs was exchanged between the two before Riddle entered the dark secret passage on the other side of the library, the language was created little by little, a mix of the sign language of his dear world and Twisted Wonderland that deepened as he went. that the bonds with the other person were deepening.

“Who was Koebi-chann talking to?” The twin's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, he was at the table they'd been studying at just now, his posture relaxed with the familiar wide, sharp-toothed smile.

"Floyd, let's play."- determined she started her plan in mind.

“Aaah, I'm not in the mood to play tag with Koebi-chan, I want to play with Kingyo-chan"- Already uninterested Floyd got up with a serious expression

“What if we make a deal?” When Yuu stepped in front of the tallest one, he didn't expect those words from her "If you catch me in 3 minutes, I'll tell you where Riddle is, but if not, I won't tell you anything." Oh that got his attention, already setting the timer on her watch

“Koebi-chan is so creative! Let's play! I count ok: 1…2…3 and that's it! Run fast or I'll catch you~” the twin hummed, lazy voice but a predator's gaze

The two ran wild leaving the library, Yuu was dodging the tables while Floyd, the mermaid, preferred to jump on top of them to annoy the students. Outside, the girl got a good boost down the hall, taking advantage of Floyd trying to get through the door.

2 minutes…

Each on the opposite side of the hall, Floyd showing his sharp teeth and Yuu a playful smile, the laughter of both spread in the hall: loud, uncoordinated and without any concern. As she turned a corner that led to the patio, she lost Floyd and only then did the adrenaline let her remember a little thing: Where there's fire, there's smoke. And the horror twins, as Grim calls them, are a real fire. Floyd is here…where is Jade?

1 minute-she checked her watch

"Ahh I'm so close to getting rid of this crazy guy!"-She thought with her chest rising and falling and breathing heavily. Her eyes searched every possible place to climb or hide, Floyd is faster but if she can stay away from him until time stands still…

"The tree!"

30 seconds

The girl ran with all her might towards the patio tree, her loud footsteps alerted Floyd who was trying to see where she was. The little bug was out of breath and was trying to circle the patio trying to kill time to get to the damn tree just didn't count that—

“Oya oya, what do we have here?”- She didn't see where the voice was coming from, she just felt someone put her foot on her for her to fall, Floyd who is not silly at all, took the opportunity and grabbed the student rolling them both on the floor.

“I got you Koebi-chan!~~~” for a moment they forgot why they were running, laughing until their stomachs hurt, biting each other- hey, that's a sign of trust, right?- “Come on little shrimp…I got you ahead of time. You have to do your part of the bargain!”

“You cheated Floyd! I made the deal with you and not Jade-

“I was just passing by and coincidentally tripped over it just as our dear Yuu was running. Oh, I'm so sorry. What a tragedy.” With her hand on her chest, Jade helped her to get up from the ground, but her smile had nothing innocent about it.

“Don't even come with that Jade-” not here you felaa-” Floyd, it was supposed to be you alone but since I'm in a good mood today let's do this: I'll tell you where Riddle is NOT and you can hug me more…”

“What a good treat Koebii~” Floyd didn't need any more words to convince him, throwing his tall frame on top of Yuu and her brother, taking them to the ground.

But she was used to the twins' unpredictable tendencies. After all, 1 year had passed since his arrival. When she arrived in this strange world, everything was very “strange” for her, so much so that reality only dropped three days later, and when it did, all she could think about was hiding in a dark corner of the abandoned house.

The sun was setting when they got up, after laughing and talking about various topics Yuu would probably regret someday. After so much brutality, Floyd extended a gentle hand for his friend to stand up, his eyes widening as he realized—

“Neee~Koebi-chan, you're getting heavy and meaty too!” happily he comments

“Hunhun, and it looks stronger fufu. It ran a lot further this time and endured my brother's hugs longer” Jade congratulates her, looking at her legs and biceps that were no longer fragile matchsticks

“But if you grow too big, I won't be able to call you little shrimp anymore…ah! Ah! I know! If you grow any bigger I’ll call you the little lobster, okay?”

“Well, get ready, honey, I’m going to be a lobster!” determined Yuu hugs her friends and then says goodbye. She didn't know it, but there were eyes watching her...

A year later adaptation arrived, his body that had lost a lot of weight due to the excessive work of a certain crow and the constant stress that brought it, was weak and thin, but now with the balanced diet that Vil himself had prepared and physical exercises with Vargas she was able to get back to the body she was: strong, toned and curvy, she could keep up with the athletics group with Deuce and go for morning jogs with Jack - when Grim pushed her out of bed she inevitably woke up and by coincidence Jack was passing by Ramcharchle. Killing two with one stone.-

It was at the start of quiet sophomore year that her hair, once a shade of brown with golden, curly strands, was dyed night-black. Her hair was opaque before and didn't reach her chin, as the foreigner used her impulsive cuts as a defense mechanism, saying it was "not to draw attention". A year later, her hair was bust-length, shiny and perfectly brushed and styled.

At first glance, her ties were deepened here, but there was a symbolism behind it that left your mouth bitter. Her natural hair was her memory of home, something that says "I'm not from here, I have a place to go back". Crowley was the one who came up with the idea "Well, if you're going to stay longer, why don't you look like your beloved director who welcomed you as a father figure, my little bird?" Crowley and Crewel became very attached to the girl, always taking care of the puppy with affection but with hugs that didn't allow her to go very far. .

In her second year, she improved her beast taming capabilities. Occasionally, she is seen piloting a great blue dragon through the skies, or combing the fur of a dangerous chimera, or stopping Grim from stuffing his mouth with fish at Scarabia's dinner. The latter, he finds to be the most useful skill.

Not far from there, Riddle had finished his Riding training, saying goodbye elegantly to his colleagues and walking to the Heartstabull...unfortunately he didn't get there.

Trim..trim…

'Huh? Call from Carter?' - In the middle of her sacred coffee with Grim, Yuu receives a call from her senior, Carter Diamond. What would the magicam star want at a time like this?

-Hello? It's Yuu, all right senpai? -A-ahh Yuu, I need you to come to the dorm now! -Is it really necessary? I put my coffee on now… -What Yuu?? I'm not l-l- istening! Something… interfering… -The toast is warm too…want to have a coffee with me? -I'm serious Yuu! It's- an emergency! Come quickly!

And hung up…

Her precious coffee was already in the cup filled to the top, waiting to be taken and enjoyed by the tired student, but the agitated and trembling voice of the so cheerful Carter made her take only three sips worriedly, leaving quickly with Grim meowing that the toast would get cold. Until a hoarse, frightening scream interrupted her mind and the thousand scenarios of what could be happening.

“How strang-!!!”- Yuu gasps, clutching Grim protectively in her arms, despite being flustered the girl takes a moment to record the image of the sound maker, who was on an old pole near the house.

It was a white bird, a type of owl with a heart-shaped face and eyes like completely black spheres, then a hook-shaped beak. The creature turns 160 degrees and stares at Yuu and Grim, the girl feels a shiver run down her spine and a bad feeling settles in her stomach but….

Yuu decides that with so many fantastical creatures and so many overblots, a white owl is the least of her problems right now and continuing on her way more quickly she thinks back to what could have happened in the dorm, which she considered her second home.

Of all her imagined scenarios none came close to the vision in front of her.

Riddle was lying on the floor. His body pale and icy. His eyes were completely white, without corneas, without irises and without pupils. His red hair was an aged shade of red, as if all of his life had been sucked out of him. Veins, now transparent, pulsing reluctantly to life and bringing a barely existent low breath, no signs of waking up.

“Carter! What's going on? What happened to Riddle?”- one of the clones of the red haired one grabbed Yuu who ran when he saw the scene and tried to calm her down, while Trey covered his fallen friend's body with a jacket.

“Riddle took a long time to come back, 15min late. This has never happened before.”- Trey replied from afar.

“We arrived here and when we saw his state, we called you and the Director”- completed Carter, who was trying to take Yuu to check the body, he himself didn't have the courage- “We cast an invisible barrier spell, and we waited for the director to arrive to take him quickly to the infirmary.” he concluded.

“What do you think it could be?”

“I don't know, I've never seen anything like it. It must have been something really strong to catch him off guard and leave him with…”- swallowing the fear and sadness trapped in his throat, the green-haired one tries to continue, being the responsible senpai ever-”… with that expression. terrified in the face.”

There were no signs of violence on the body, no spell fighting, no signs of poisoning. Grim didn't smell any different, saying it was the same as the one in the library.

“Let's sort this out, guys.”- giving one last look at his friend, Yuu puts his jacket over him again and stands up to look and investigate.

They checked every inch of that area, but the wind blew a small white feather from the enclosure.

You are here Next>>

[what-the--curtains]

Fire & Ice

Chapter 6 - Dances & Diatribes

(Robb Stark x f!Targaryen!Reader)

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Summary: Tenuous bridges are built with the arrival of a wedding present from across the Narrow Sea. Bridges that are tested by a visit to the Vale

Authors note: She's Baaaaaaaack (by unpopular demand) Let me know if you want to be untagger I know I've been gone a while!

TW: Fighting, Swearing (maybe?), mentions of blood, hallucinations, alcohol

Taglist: @kittykylax @winxschester @mihrimahsultan03 @stargaryenx @the-desilittle-bird @roselibrary @luxlisbonlover @r1dd1kulus

Word count: 5.1k

Playlist

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Snow dusts the foliage around you. The quiver hangs on your back, reigns grasped loosely. A hushed barter with a stable boy allowing your escape for a few hours most mornings. ​​The woods are silent this hour. You basque in the quiet knowing the men would soon return from the front. The sky glows copper as the sun rises, blood has been spilled. 

You slow your horse to a walk stopping when tracks appear in the distance. Three pronged digits jut out from a large base, the prints were uncanny, unfamiliar, distorted. The air goes silent as you raise your bow. No birds chirped above, no crunch of the frosted ground beneath you, no wisp of the wind. 

Nothing. Not even the sound of your own breath reached your ears. 

Something is watching you. 

 You turn and a chill shoots down your spine, every hair on your neck lifted. Your heartbeat fills the empty space as cold breath hits your neck. You grab an arrow and drive it backwards, but it falls to the ground imprinting in the snow that dusted the remaining grass, the sound of the forest returning. 

Your hand reaches back again and you fire into the nearby bush pheasants flocking upwards and you shoot two down.

You were spending too much time alone, too much time with your head buried in books full of tales meant to scare children. The chilling legends that had always managed to find themselves lodged in your head.  These occurrences were the last thing you needed, a senseless distraction. 

You prayed Jorah's return with the rest of the men would settle you, though you hesitate to share your visions with him considering your lineage. Unless it progressed further, it was best kept a secret. 

In addition to the sense of comfort you hoped Jorah would provide insight into Talisas departure, you had your suspicions but you weren't one to breathe life into rumour before it was fact. The thoughts are fleeting and they dissipate as you dismount inside the stable. Coming forward to thank the mare for her efforts.

“Thank you for lending her to me, and for your discretion,” you say to the sable haired boy appearing from the shadows of a stall he was cleaning. He smiles, but it drops slightly as footsteps approached. Had it followed you back from the woods? You look over your shoulder to see Robb freshly returned from war, unwashed and bloodied. 

“Fear not, he is not nearly as ferocious as he looks, and he only turns into a wolf on the battlefield” you whisper to the boy who smiles. 

“You ride?” Robb asks, rinsing his hands of blood in a nearby barrel. 

“A long time ago, in another life,” you admit, your wedding gift from Drogo passing through your mind. You hand the saddle to the boy who runs off as quickly as he came. 

“You're working in the stables now, is he sharing his pay with you?” Robb asks. 

“Yes, and you should pay him more, it's hard work. Do not blame him I am very convincing,”

“Seems people find you impossible to refuse,” 

“I can think of at least one person always ready to refuse me,” 

“Your lack of broken neck suggests you ride well, you should take your pick'' Robb states, “save for the white mare, she's mine. ” he relays storking the creature's speckled face, one of his fathers final gifts to him.

“She’s beautiful, do the rest not have owners,” you ask, hanging the pheasant on the wall as the boy leads the horse back into the stable, you hang them on the wall as you wash your hands of the mud. 

‘Four in the back lost their riders, they would do well to have someone keep them in shape, try them, choose your favourite. Did Ser Darrion shoot these?” he asks, before you have time to thank him.

“I shot them, your Grace.” His eyes flit to you then back to the birds “they go to the boy, he takes them to his family, that was part of our deal,” you relay pulling them down off the wall “He wanted nothing of course but I told him to never do anything for free, especially if the person asking is wealthy,” Robb’s laugh catches you off guard 

“Aren’t you angry,” you ask, turning to make sense of the lightness you felt in the conversation. 

“Quite the opposite. You’ll have to teach my youngest sister, Arya when… if we find her,” he relays, stone faced. “She would like you,” he admits. 

“I look forward to meeting her,” 

“His family must be well fed, you're a good shot,”  Robb says, looking the birds over. 

“I've been hunting for a long time your Grace, though Visery didn't think it a very lady-like hobby so naturally…” 

“Well my mother would agree, but if it keeps you out of my hair for a few hours I see it as a benefit to our union,” 

“Did you come here to land an insult or was there something else you needed?” you ask 

“I believe I just paid you a compliment,” he states

“What was your intended purpose here then?” 

“A gift arrived late last night, a wedding present for you,” he says as you re-don your cloak. 

“A compliment, a horse and a gift. Seems a very fortunate day for me. Why haven't you opened it yourself?” You ask, looking down in confusion at his arm extended to you.

“They are not addressed to me” he states, “And we may as well look the part” you link your arm in his and exit the stable. Appearances were crucial now, and any effort on his part at this point seemed miraculous.  “You’ve grown more accustomed to the cold, last I saw you wore three cloaks when you went outside,” 

“We run warm, I just needed some time to adapt,” You explain, though the heat radiating from your arm was welcome as days grew colder. 

“Blood of the dragon, I almost forgot,’ Robb states. 

“Was that a joke your Grace,” you ask looking at him. 

“Was that a compliment?”  he replies, mouth cautiously upturned. 

“I don't recall saying it was funny,” you remark dryly as he pulls the tent flaps open. Perhaps there was a reason his men followed him to death after all, now he was no longer blaming you for his anguish; he was, dare you say it, tolerable.  Your heart skips seeing Darrion inside, and you instinctively drop Robb's arm. 

“Ser Darrion, Ser Jorah,” you address “It does my eyes good to see you both alive and unharmed,” your eyes trail down to the chest before them. 

“Thank you Ser Mormont for delivering this to us, safely and for ensuring it is not tampered with,” Robb states, so Jorah had brought them back. 

“Who are they from?” you ask 

“An Iilyrio Mopatis, you stayed with him a while as a child after the maesters. I told him you were married and he said he had been saving it for the last true dragon,”

“Rheagar was the last true dragon,” you reply, “but I will not refuse a gift from someone who cared for me when the rest of the world would not. I will entrust you with a letter of thanks that is to be delivered to him, I will write it myself,”

“Yes, your Grace,” Jorah replies

“You may leave us,” Robb finishes throwing his gloves down on the desk. Your eyes involuntarily stuck on Ser Darrion as he bows, his own eyes trailing up your body causing a heat to flush throughout your inside. 

“Are you going to open it?” Robb mutters, removing his blood stained linens and rinsing himself with the water from the basin, warmed by the hearth burning beneath it.

“Have you always been so impatient or are you just used to getting what you want?” you prod playfully, looking over your shoulder quickly. 

“I have always been good at getting my own way,” he relays

“Privilege of being the eldest,” you replay, kneeling before the chest on the floor. 

“Topped only by the preference for the youngest,” he counteracts, watching your hands ghost over the box, hesitantly.

“It has been checked, both by Jorah and Darrion, though I can open it if you…” 

“I am fine your Grace, just admiring the craftsmanship, appears to be welded in Dothraki gold,” you click the latches open slowly pushing the wooden lid eyes widening as the contents are revealed. 

“What has he sent?” Robb asks, unable to hide his curiosity, noting the look on your face your hands reach in, pulling out an egg, the size of a man's head, a bright gold. 

“Dragon eggs,” you reply breathlessly, wonderment plastered on your features as your hands trace down the scales, warming them.  “Three of them.”

“All gold?” Robbs queries, watching  you intently as you carefully place the first down on the hearth. 

“No. It’s rare any within a brood are remotely alike,” You lift the other two together, one black and one green reuniting them with the gold on the hearth. 

“Dragon eggs have to be kept warm if you want them to hatch, they cannot survive in the cold and before you start I know they are decorative in a likelihood, but you have your gods and we have ours. To leave them in the cold would be disrespectful,” you explain looking up to meet Robbs own gaze of bewilderment at the mythology placed before him. 

He pulls a clean shirt on and sits down in his chair rolling up his sleeves before decanting wine into a glass, watching curiously as your hands gently stroke the scales of the matte coloured eggs illuminated by the embers.

“I realise now I know nothing about you, or your family or your beliefs. Well apart from what I assume are the most horrifying details and some of which I assume to be less than true,” 

“Whose fault is that?” you counter eyes still on the eggs, hands trailing across them. 

“Must you always be so difficult,”

“Me?” you begin, but when you turn towards an argument he's smiling at the wall, so you forgo it. It was the first time he had asked you a question about yourself, the first time either of you had to be fair.  “Well some of the atrocities are certainly elevated though many I fear to inform you are true. Tell me then, your highness, what it is you wish to know,”

“Is it your highness now? Is that better or worse than your grace,”

“I am only trying to uphold the standard of address you set for me when we first met,” 

“Tell me about the dragons. They were the only part of my lessons I could focus on from what I remember,”

“Oh I find it hard to believe you were anything but the perfect student. Would you like to hear the truths or the myths?” you ask and gently stroking the tops of the eggs, the scales lining the shell shine in the flames, and for a moment you swear you feel them beating.

“Are they different?”

“You have much to learn your Grace,” you replay standing, brushing off the ash from your skirts. 

“Then teach me, perhaps some of your ability to perceive strategy will rub off on me,” 

“As much as it pains me to say, you would survive without me, most of my conclusion are easily found once you know what you're looking at,” 

“Yet none seem to find them,” he replies 

“Was that another compliment? Two in one day, have I strayed into a dream?” you joke  

“Eye for an eye,” he replies, a playfulness playing off you both, previously unknown. 

“Very well, I concede, what would you like to hear about the dragon's your highness”, you ask, curtseying, causing Robb to shake his head. 

“Where did they come from?” he asks as you pour yourself a glass of wine. It was bitter compared to that you'd had in Dorne, but you were growing accustomed to it. 

“Depends on the source. Some say they were born from deep beneath the mountains. When Westeros and Essos parted and the earth cracked open, ash and fire rained down from the sky as dragons crawled out from the centre of the world. Others say they fell from the moon, a gift from the gods,” 

“Why was your family so favoured by the gods,”

“The gods simply placed the dragons on this earth, the Targaryens learnt to train them,”

“How did they manage that?” he continues. 

“My fore-bearers knew of their breeding grounds, before kings and kingdoms existed, before Targaryens and Starks and Lannisters and Baratheons. We lived alongside them in trust until a rule was broken. An egg stolen, dragons devastated bruning the land before them,”

“Creating the red waste,” Robb finishes, enraptured in your words glad for your immersion in tale lest you see his stare, one he could not seem to deter as the warmth of the light illuminated your features drawing him further in. 

“See, the perfect student,” he chuckles, “ Well the dragon went into hiding as the kingdom of men grew, and relationships strained. It became a tradition, a ritual, a rite of passage; it was the entrance into Targearyn lineage. Before the incest and the inbreeding a Targaryean was any who would be bold enough to survives the dragons nest and return with the eggs. Then it became a customary practice of marriage and engagement, and eventually even a gift for children, but populations dwindled. The dragons became few and populations inbred shrinking them making them vulnerable and weak in the mind, an easy correlation perhaps to my own family history,” you admit sadly, swilling your wine around in the glass. “You know, we once rode them to war,”

“I have heard that tale, They said your forefathers would ride to war a back them,”

“It is not merely a tale nor was it only the men. Women rode alongside their husbands; you'll find that in any book you read.”

“Will I,” he challenges 

“Are you calling me a liar,” you press 

“Perhaps I'll believe it if I ever see it, for now the hour grows late, so I must call a truce,” he states, weary from battle, your tales having entranced him into a state of relaxation he rarely felt. 

“I accept,” you reply, placing the glass down, going once more to the eggs to bid them goodnight. Your arm reaches down but they are caught before they make contact. You look up to Robb whose thumb runs gently over your wrist. “You’ll burn your hands beyond repair touching those now…” he drops your wrist, realising the intimacy of the moment “ without gloves at least,” words fail you, but he clears his throat. 

“There is another piece of business that demands a truce,” he admits and you look at him. “ We are stopping at the twins. My grandfather survived another year, he is to celebrate his name day at the Vale, and my mother demands our attendance. I agreed with her on the sole condition that more support is needed if we are to win. While you need not attend, I believe you would be an asset,” 

“Truly,” 

“Yes,” he confirms. 

 “If you believe I will be useful, then we shall attend,” 

“Be warned, since her husband's death my aunt has gone somewhat mad, try not to take offence,”

“Salt helps well with the blisters,” he says, nodding down to your hand “They stop forming once practise with the blade is consistent, they should heal up by the time you meet my grandfather, I do not know what kind of chastising I will get for allowing you near a weapon. Also, it may also be best if you address my by my name when around family,”

“Is your grace giving me permission to forgo his initial request?”

“Robb, is very much indeed asking that of you,” 

“Very well, if your grace demands it, who am I to refuse,” the haze of the wine had seeped into the surrounding air, the whole room slightly out of focus when you blew out the candle and pulled the furs over your shoulders. “Goodnight, Robb,” 

“Goodnight Rhaeanya,” 

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The Vale

Light blue garments adorned your body, intricate silver clutching around your waistline flowing up into trees and woodland scenery and downwards into roots, starks colours for the night. 

“You look well,” Robb says, offering his arm as you meet him by the base of the stairs. 

“As do you,”  you reply, taking it, you had arrived a few hours ago from the front, Cat had arrived early in the morning.  The ride to Riverrun was silent for the most part, Robb having fallen asleep, saving you the need for unnecessary small talk, less chance of irritating the other. 

“The celebration is due to begin shortly but I will first introduce you to my aunt ,nephew and grandfather,”

“Lysa, Robyn and Hoster,” you list

“Very Good, my Uncles will likely be here as well, The blackfish and Edmure. The former is interesting and the other is relatively useless but harmless.”

“Lots of family, once again my job is much harder than yours. I only had one and that proved so difficult for you to remember you killed him,” you state, relieved by Robb’s huff of amusement.

“Best behaviour, just for Lysa and my grandfather, the rest well they are easier to converse with,” your feet almost trip over one another when you enter the large room, taken aback by the woman sitting high atop a throne nursing what appeared to be an eight year old boy. 

“Lady Arryn,” you curtsey  “I wish to thank you for your hospitality, your home is truly a work of fine craftsmanship, and its upkeep impeccable,”

“The last time I saw a Targaryen here was when I was a few years younger than you, I believed you all dead,” she states, a carelessness that implied neither malice or hatred, neutrality was better than you had expected. 

“We are sturdy folk, hard to be rid of my lady, and my lord. Your son looks well, may I ask his name”

“Robyn,” she replies, the boy looked sickly with large eyes and runny nose perched atop a somewhat frail frame. 

“Robyn Arryn, a gentle name, but a strong one as well. One of good fortune and friendship, it is a name as high as honour one that carries the Tully spirit with the Arryn name,” she smirks. 

“And your name,” she asks

“Rhaeanya, my lady,” 

“Flowing with grace in the common tongue, we shall see if that holds true,” she replies, sushing Robyn who had begun pulling at her hair. 

“I hope it does, my Lady“

“And what of you my beloved nephew come forward you need not stand in her shadow of all places. The king in the north , avenging your father and your uncle against the evils birthed of lannister incest.”

“Thank you aunt, your husband gave his life for my family, that will not be forgotten, but I must see the guest of honour before the festivities begin,”

“He is with your mother, and Edmure no doubt gossiping without me,” 

“It was lovely to meet you lady arryn and you as well lord robyn,” you smile at the boy whose brown eyes stare at you as if you were an apparition. Though your features were likely obscure in the north especially to a boy who hardly left the tower walls. 

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“Please my lord do not rise on my behalf,” you begin

“Fear not you grace, I am old but I am not dead yet,” 

“You have her likeness, your mothers,” he says sitting down at the dresser, and your heart drops 

“I am glad to encounter one who knew her, though I warn you I may bore you with many questions now we are acquainted,”

“Tales I am happy to share, none find my words interesting these days, not since they were children, and I am always happy to share the past especially with one so full of beauty,”

“I see Robbs charm is not merely a product of the Stark lineage,”

“The Tullys were always less serious my dear,” 

“Where on earth would you get the idea Robb was serious?” you joke opening the door allowing his dressers to enter. 

“Speaking of serious,” Robb interjects, “There are matters I hope to discuss,not tonight grandfather not on your name day but there are things that need seeing to before we depart,”

“Of course, my boy, tomorrow we will discuss before you leave but tonight we celebrate. Rhaeanya, a pleasure to meet you, and what a joyous thing for you to be apart of our family,” 

“It is my greatest joy to have found family here, I thought it lost to me forever,”

“Well you shall have children soon enough, I hope to meet them,” your chest tightens, your throat closing as you swallow your panic, fear of being caught for the fraud you were. Unable to complete what was needed to ensure a war won. 

“Well my aunt only slightly insulted you, and my grandfather seems to want you for a son, so  all in all its going quite well,”

“Had you not prepared me for the breastfeeding that would have thrown me, how old is the boy?”

“Must be nearing 8, and for once you are speechless. I suppose we should make our way down to the festivities am I still presentable,”

“Are you asking if you appear kingly,” 

“Yes,” he replied, his earnestness catching you off guard, you refute the joke sitting behind your teeth and take a step back. You move forward, hands reaching up, his gaze following you as you shift the crown on his head just to the left. 

“It's never quite fit right,” he mutters,

“It fits, and more importantly it suits you, shall we,” you ask. There is a steadiness to him as you enter the hall, despite the eyes and the whispers, the paranoia you felt entering a room was absent in him. You wonder if he felt through your facade. You watch intently as he pulls out your chair waiting for you to sit before taking his place next to you taking up conversation with his grandfather. 

“And you must be the new bride,” a rough voice speaks out. 

“Perhaps the old bride now, but yes, no longer a Targaryen by name,”

“But in appearance, the lineage is unmistakable”

“You must must the Blackfish,”

“Aye your Grace, I see my reputation precedes me, I hope you don’t think too ill of me,”

“Well, hard to pass judgement while rebelling against a kingdom that deemed my entire family an outcast. Perhaps we are more alike than you think,” 

“And how does Westeros compare to Essos,”

“Essos is warmer, the wine is sweeter and it smells less of piss and more of flowers,” you relay, causing the Blackfish to cough into his drink caught off guard. “Apologies my lord, but I assumed you of all people would forgive such low language. Now tell me for I must know, what was he like as a child, I imagine he came out stern faced and serious, shouldering the weight of the world before he knew it,”

“In ways he was, but unlike now it was attributed to an almost unbelievable shyness,”

“Shyness,” you respond, shocked at the revelation. 

“I believe so, but duty always prevailed and he always did what he needed to,”

“Well that what not nearly as fun as I had hoped, nor did it provide me with any such ammunition for teasing,”

“He use to be funny, though now I fear joy may be lost on him, make sure he finds some,” 

“I will try, though I do admit I may not be the best candidates,”

“Well you made me laugh, and that's a victory in itself these days,” he nods his head back and you turn your attention to where your name had just been called

“Rhaeanya, when may I expect a great grandchild, I will be first in my family to see such a sight,” Hoster states loudly, Robb seemingly gone white

“Soon, we hope, I pray everyday” you say, taking Robbs hand in yours. 

“Unfortunately the situation with the Targaryen lineage,” Lysa chimes in from further down the table, “they are mad and rumours say their offspring have been born deformed and scaly, monsters. You should have found better breeding stock for your eldest son, such a fine young man surely others would have been willing,” Lysa shouts loudly, words clear over the crowds clamour, you feel Robbs hand tense as your eyes glaze over. 

“Lysa,” Catlynn warns, but she doesn't let up, and you feel your demeanour shift, cowering inwards at the fear of being found out. An uncharacteristic meekness that caught the attention of another. 

“Your highness,” Ser Darrion interrupts, you release Robbs hand and tune back into the crowd  “may I request a dance with your wife,” 

“It is her decision, though I encourage it. Conversation here has grown tiresome, she has my permission if she wishes to leave,” you feel his eyes on you

“Thank you Ser Darrion. I would be glad to leave the scene,” you state standing from the table and making your way to the floor. 

“Her stock is higher than any I am aware of, she's the only with a true claim to the iron throne, and in addition to that she is invaluable in the war room. She does the work the Lannisters entire counsel cannot. As for scaly children, perhaps you have fallen victim to propaganda dear aunt, ” Robb defends. “A war your father supported,” Lysa fires back

“A war that saw her entire family slaughtered, and would have seen her dead had my father not intervened,”

“Enough, no more of this on my name day, celebrate, the night is young and I am old, I do not wish to spend my last days listening to family squabbles,” 

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“Apologies for interrupting your conversation,” ser Darrion whispers.  

“Is that what it was, felt more of personal attack from a woman who still breastfeeds her son,” you mutter

“I have missed you,” 

“And what about me is it that you have missed,”

“Every aspect, you face,  your voice, your laugh, your stories,”

“Enough of my stories, I need a few of yours,”

“Anything you request,”

“You have known Robb since childhood”

“I have,” 

“Was he always so… well… him,” you chuckle 

“Yes, but infinitely more reserved. He never danced, hardly laughed, was always shy, and very serious. Keep to himself, drove most of the girls to him of course, man of mystery and all,”

“Is that jealousy I sense in your voice,” you joke 

“I’d like to say I’ve gotten over it,” 

“Oh i'm sure you did just fine,”

“Well I was able to make them laugh, does he make you laugh” the lightness of the conversation shifted. 

“He is my husband,” you reply, hoping to avoid broaching an intimate topic so publicly. 

“If I was your husband I would ensure your happiness,” he whispers  “My hands would never leave you, there would not be a day that went by without my love for you being expressed,” 

“Ser Darrion,” you whisper

“Rhea,” he replies seriously, 

“You forget yourself,” you mutter sternly,  eyes boring into his, resisting every urge in your body. You stare over the shoulder to see Robb staring directly at you grey gaze amber under the light as the music ends

“Thank you Ser Darrion, but you should be on your way,” you reply, and he kisses your hand.

“If you ever wish to leave this behind you need only ask,” he states, and your stomach drops, heart racing.  Your eyes watch as he leaves the floor, ignoring the women walking towards him. 

Your heart flutters, beating up into your ears. Against better judgement you lift your skirt and follow him, but by the time you reach the outer room he’s gone. You walk off into a hallway looking around when you turn to go back you see Robb. Concerned at the look in your eyes during Lysas trade, seeking you out as another olive branch, only to see you following another. He had not been concerned with the dance, not until he saw you rushing out after Darrion.

“What do you think your doing?” he asks

“I… I was… what was I doing with what?” you stutter. 

“Don’t act stupid, we both know you are not,” he relays, and you shift into defensive mode. 

“So you get to go gallivanting around into every whorehouse in Westeros, but I am not allowed to walk in the same direction as a man?”

“I will not have an uncertain heir, I cannot, do you understand,” he states firmly

“Are you jealous,” you ask, echoing back words he had once shouted at you. 

“Of what? I seem to remember getting an earful about making you out to be a fool. You dancing closely, so closely with your guard makes me look foolish. Do you understand that? They will not follow a man they do not respect. If you cannot see that then perhaps I overestimated your intelligence,” he scolds. 

“Do not mock me,” you reply evenly, feeling smaller than you expected

“You do it so easily for yourself in your hypocrisy,” he digs further into you.

“You are being unnecessarily cruel,” you snap. 

“Perhaps you bring it out in me,” he states

“Apologies, your highness have I awoken the dragon,” you shoot back.

“Do not compare to that man,” he states, anger now evident in his features. 

“Then stop acting like him,” you state clearly

“Perhaps if you were not such a spoiled brat…”

“Me?” you laugh, “ I am not the one currently in the throes of a tantrum. You have had everything handed to you since the day you were born, the perfect prince, beloved by his kingdom, adored by all. Well perhaps not so perfect considering your failures of late,” there it was. The dagger behind your teeth sharpened to a point, always ready to strike, always to kill, never willing to only wound. 

“I am well aware of my failures, I know my fathers death , and my sisters' continued torture falls into my hands. So yes I am a failure to them. I need not have a stranger remind me of this,” You feel the truth in his words and guilt washes over you. 

“Tonight by all accounts has been a success. So we will go back inside, we will dance, we will drink, we will stay a night then we shall return to a war I'm failing to win. Join me once you have composed yourself,”

“Robb,” you call and he turns around

“Save it, I do not care to hear anymore from you tonight besides what is owed to my family.”

[chaoslovesmisery]

Chapter 6. Desire

I watched the night sky as a heavy weight settled in my chest, each twinkling star a reminder of moments lost and dreams unfulfilled. The cold breeze whispers through the city, echoing my thoughts of solitude and yearning. It's as if the universe holds its breath, and I'm left to ponder the fragility of existence, the silent stories woven into the fabric of the cosmos above the bustling world below.

I feel a slight twinge of jealousy of the ignorant people who have no idea the horrors that lie past the Deepspace Tunnel and can live a simple life below with more mundane problems. In this stillness, the beauty of it all feels bittersweet, a stark contrast to the ache in my heart, as I search for solace in the shimmering darkness that stretches infinitely above me, far from the noise and chaos of life.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" A voice says behind me, pulling my gaze from the night sky. My eyes darted up to see the clouds gently parting, moving out of the way of the moon's path. The moonlight bathes the rooftop in soft light, illuminating the contours of familiar buildings and casting long shadows that mingle with the darkness. I can feel Sylus standing next to me and I lean my head against his side.

"I can die happy," I responded, not taking my eyes off of the moon. He laughs gently stroking my head as his fingers linger at the end of my short hair.

"You're gonna live for a long time in this life," he says under his breath. I look up with curious eyes but he doesn't say anymore.

"Any update?" I ask, meeting his gaze and there is an emotion there I can't seem to put my finger on.

"No, it's been three days and nothing. I plan on taking her to the shopkeeper to see if we can try another way to get the resonance going." He says and I can see his eyes darken a little.

"She doesn't remember us; she doesn't remember you. She's probably disgusted by you thinking you're part of the reason her family is dead or scared of you," I say gently, wanting to soften the blow.

"Ha! Her scared of me? Disgusted by me? That's laughable, Meph!" he replies, ruffling my hair with a grin, but I swat at his hand, annoyance creeping in.

"Hey! It was just an idea! I mean, I resonated with her before, back then—" I stop speaking and stand up, wrapping my arms around myself as I fight the wave of dread that envelops me, tugging at the threads of a pleasant memory I wish to keep buried. The rooftop, with its shimmering stars and moonlit glow, feels like a fragile cocoon, and I struggle to hold onto the warmth while confronting the haunting shadows of what once was.

"I'm fine!" I retort, raising my hands defensively, my voice sharper than I intended. A flicker of hurt flashes across his face, but it's gone almost instantly, replaced by a hardened expression that makes my stomach twist. I wish I could take back my sharpness, but the weight of my feelings feels too heavy to unload right now. My eyes drift to his chest and I can see a bullet hole in his chest and my eyes widen.

"Meph," Sylus begins, his weary, concerned expression causing me to instinctively take a step back.

"Who shot you in the chest?!" I yell, my frustration pushing me forward until he takes a step back, laughter escaping him, but it's dry and lacking joy.

"Can you believe she still wants to kill me? After all that," he muses, his gaze drifting off into the distance like he's trying to escape the pain of that truth.

"You know it's because of the aether core," I reply gently, hoping to bridge the growing rift between us. I take a small step closer.

"Two seconds ago, you gagged at just the thought of a memory with her, and now you're defending her?" he counters, his voice rising, and I flinch. He's right. I can feel the hypocrite I've become, torn between the trauma of the past that haunts me and the loyalty I feel for the Heroine that was once the closest friend one could be before my memories that this was all from some mobile game.

"She's gonna be with us for a while, so figure out whatever you need to," he says, turning to head for the door, and my heart sinks.

"I'll be on your side," he adds, but I must be mistaken. On my side? I can't shake the feeling that he'll always be hers, regardless of the tangled circumstances, and that reality eats away at me like acid. His heart, no matter how close I might get, will never fully belong to me—it will always beat for someone else, leaving me with the painful reminder that I'm just an echo in his life, never the main melody.

I stare at my left metal arm, letting out a heavy sigh of defeat as I walk down the stairs, my eyes lingering on the withered flowers in the crystal vases, a reflection of my own withering feelings. Once I enter my room, I collapse onto the bed, hoping for a few hours of oblivion, but it's short-lived as a knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. Luke and Kieran stand at the threshold, asking if I want to join them to check on our guest, but I brush past them, fueled by a mix of bitterness and pain.

"No," I replied curtly before transforming into my crow form, seeking refuge on the marble pillar, the weight in my heart lightened just a bit by the freedom of the night. Closing my eyes, I tune in to the meeting Sylus is having, grateful he hasn't completely shut me out as the door is slightly ajar.

My focus shifts when footsteps approach, and I open my eyes to see the Heroine staring back at me, surprise giving way to curiosity as she steps closer. In a heartbeat, I spread my wings, soaring past her just in time to miss the top of her head as I glide through the narrow door. The room is filled with the soft strains of classical music as I perch on another marble pillar, my attention drawn to the man in the room, his weariness palpable.

"...They plan to implant Protocores into human hearts... The Fountain of Atei—" he begins, but Sylus interrupts, his voice crisp and commanding.

"You should know I'm not interested in other people's business. And Mephisto said you lied. You're not even telling me everything. It's a shame you threw away your last chance." Aware of my presence, he glances at me, and I nod, motioning towards the door to indicate we have a listener.

"No! Please forgive me... You can still use me as a tool! I..." the man pleads before Sylus waves his hand.

The man's desperation unfolds as he pleads for his life, but Sylus calmly dismisses him, the air charged with an unsettling energy. As the man is lifted by Sylus' Energy Evol, his voice fades abruptly, punctuating the room's silence with tension, until Sylus lifts the needle from the record player, returning us to a gentle melody played by the strings, a stark contrast to the chaos that just transpire

"Our deal is over. No, if you'll excuse me, I have to entertain a more important guest." He says and with another wave of his hand the man is lifted by Sylus' Energy Evol and the pleading voice stops abruptly, like a balloon that leaves nothing behind after it explodes from being filled with too much air. The room falls silent for a moment. Sylus stands up lifting the needle from the record player in the room as the energy particles dissipate in the air. A more gentle song played by string instruments fills the room.

"Aren't you going to come in," He says picking up the decanter walking to her side pouring her a glass of red wine. She stares at him wearily. I watch as she holds onto the chair with one hand to steady herself before grabbing the knife on the table with her other hand.

"This will be useful for defending yourself in the N109 Zone." Sylus says coldly chuckling as he places a gun on the table.

"Are you mocking me?" The Heroine says glaring at him and I'm a bit taken back with the amount of hostility coming from her.

"I'm giving you a way out. Since you can't escape, why don't we make a deal?" he says, crossing his arms in front of him, his back facing me so I can't see his expression. With the glare still on the Heroine's face she drinks the wine as if to taunt him. I can't help but to smile to myself, she has no idea how strong or what type of wine that is.

"Onychinus' modus operandi is buying and selling by force. Too bad, I'm not interested." She says before chugging one glass of wine after another as if possessed.

"As long as you have desires, there will always be deals to make. So many days have come and gone. You should know your own desires by now." He says reaching into his pocket pulling out a gold coin and flipping it.

"Only I can give you what you want. And you will agree to my terms." He says but it feels like there is another underlying message there. I'm confused as I would have thought he would've been kinder to her or their dynamic wouldn't be this tense. The Heroine struggles but forces herself to stand up.

"What terms? You just want me to resonate with you. You know what, fine. I'll accept this deal. I resonate with you, and you give me the Aether Core from Onychinus' auction." She demands walking up to him and grabbing his hand and my chest tightens.

"Release me. You can't do that just yet." He says pulling his hand away from her.

"Don't move!" She shouts clearly intoxicated. Sylus' body is completely blocking my vision of the Heroine and I look away trying to give them whatever moment they were having. I can hear her mumbles as before her gasping.

"Maybe I've been too nice to you." I hear Sylus say and my eyes snap back to him.

"You... Let go!" The Heroine shouts.

"Even if you keep holding on to me like this, I can't resonate with you. It's not something I can just do on a whim!"

"After all that arrogance, it seems like you can't even control your own Evol." Sylus says icily.

"At the very least, it doesn't want to activate in front of you!" The words linger heavily, drawing a tight circle of tension around them that I can almost feel from my perch, the stakes rising with every heartbeat. How could she say that? Sylus lets go of her hand and she takes a few steps back into my view. He sits down and leans back in his chair.

"Just as I thought. You're too weak." He says pinching the area between his brow, then raps his knuckles on the table.

"Eat as much as you want." He says the words like he's giving out an order that won't be questioned.

"What? Are you..." she says trailing off before looking at the table behind her. It's filled with countless, exquisite dishes.

"I'll give you ten minutes. After you're done, come find me outside the base's entrance. You better hope our deal is successful. Otherwise, consider this your last meal." he says before walking out the room. I fly out following him and he closes the door behind us. I transform back into my human form and he wraps his arms around me lifting me up.

I gasp not trying to make a sound that would cause the Heroine to come outside. He walks down the hallway and I can see Luke and Kieran at the end of the hall enter the call but after one look they both stop and walk right back in the room they came out of.

"Sylus! What the hell?" I whisper yell.

"Just a moment." his voice slightly strained as he replies he adjusts me, cradling me securely in his arms.

An electric energy pulses around us, our emotions intertwining through the Aether Core, his anxiety creeping into my own consciousness. As he pins me between the wall and his body, our faces dangerously close, I feel the heat of his glowing right eye drawing me in. I fight against his gaze trying to look away.

His hand gently cups my chin, preventing my gaze from faltering, and a rush of memories floods my mind—our shared past, the warmth of his embrace, and an overwhelming desire to kiss him. I shut my eyes, trying to center myself, and after a long, charged moment, he lowers me back to the floor. Embarrassment washes over me, and I cover my face, but he softens the moment with a gentle kiss on my forehead, leaving an intoxicating warmth lingering in the air between us.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and checks it for a moment. He looks at me, our gazes locking, and with a surprising tenderness, he kisses my long hair, kissing it gently while keeping eye contact with me and my face heats up again.

"I'm taking her to the shopkeeper now." He says and I nod my head. He lets go of my hair before turning away and I watch his back slowly disappearing before realization hits me. I race down the hall to fire escape and reach the roof and the cold air feels like it's knocking some sense into me.

This doesn't make any sense, why is he so rough with her and so gentle with me? Why does he treat me this way? I swear I could remember the lives that he and she were together in love, or am I confusing these events with the game? Did I actually see them together in the past?

"Ugh, why is everything so fuzzy after you die and come back!" I shout to the night sky. 

****************************************************************

A/N:

Chapter based off  Long-Awaited Revelry Chapter 05 Ambiguous Chaos: Part 05, Briefly mentioned/referred to  Long-Awaited Revelry Chapter 05 Ambiguous Chaos: Part 03-04, Part 06, Part 08

Read/Played in order:

1. Long-Awaited Revelry Chapter 01 Ambiguous Chaos, Part 03: Cornered Beast  (Briefly Referenced)

2. Long-Awaited Revelry Chapter 01 Ambiguous Chaos: Part 04: Into Danger

3. Long-Awaited Revelry Chapter 01 Ambiguous Chaos: Part 05: Desire

4. Long-Awaited Revelry Chapter 01 Ambiguous Chaos: Part 06: Resonance and Shackles

5. Long-Awaited Revelry Chapter 01 Ambiguous Chaos: Part 08: Hesitation 

[imasadboi]

Raise The Stakes

Next

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CW: Blood, violence, stalking, kidnapping, death, vampirism, sex, blood drinking, drugging (with blood), ooc Leon, cutting (palm), (more to be added as series goes on).

Summary: Leon, a vampire turned against his will, believes he can get everything he lost through you. He will have you, not even your fiancé would deter him.

Word Count: 1,257

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Hi, this will be my first fully fledged series. I've been working hard on this for this past month and intend to do weekly uploads. (If not weekly, then bi-weekly!) I hope you enjoy and look forward to future chapters. And don't ask for pings, please. Simply follow my blog to get future updates.

That night still rings in his mind like discordant notes—the night he was turned. His gums ache and his hands clench into tight fists as the memory threatens to replay in detail. All it took for his family to be lost to the hands of Death was a rogue vampire, a spawn of the Devil. By the cruel hands of fate, he was spared and awoke to the grim sight of his mother’s throat torn to shreds and bloodied. His father had his head torn from his body, the bone sticking out from the gaping wound. His younger sister’s body was nowhere to be found—at first. It wasn’t even a short walk down the road until he saw the way that beast had torn his beloved sister’s dress apart before doing the same to her mortal flesh. He cried out in agony at what had befallen his poor family.

Worst of all, the scent of iron hung cloyingly in the air. His new hunger was made known to him in brutal fashion. His mind was befuddled, as both human and beastly instincts fought to dominate his actions. As his new instincts took over, his nails elongated almost painfully from the roots. His canines grew longer causing his gums to chafe from the rapid growth. Senses heightened and everything became too much at once; The thought to give in crossed his mind at that moment.

But the one thing that held him true despite his entire being changing; rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. Whether God had decided to show him mercy that night or not, it was due to this feeling that kept him tethered to his humanity. Even through unabating hunger and lines of drool slipping down his chin, he steadily buried each family member. As he sought to repair the wreckage of his family home, he noticed the silver chain that lay on the floor, its only pendant, a dainty cross. His fingers burned upon contact, before he ripped a piece of cloth from his already torn shirt and picked it up. He held it close to him for a moment before pocketing it. He wouldn’t rest until that vampire had paid for what he’d done.

Leon regains his bearings as he’s finally released from the memories of his past. From his palms, rivulets of blood flow freely. He quickly rids himself of his tight grip, nails no longer digging into soft flesh. He grimaces at how he’s let 100 years slip by without any progress. Sure, he’s hunted down other vampires yet the one he looks for never seems to be around. He shakes his head in frustration, his obsession beginning to crawl back into his mind like a decrepit parasite when a wave of nausea washes over him. Hunger. How long ago did he feed? He can’t recall. Time no longer ties him to this plane of existence. What would be the point in keeping track of the seasons, of the sun rising and falling when he can no longer feel its rays on his skin—skin that’s become paler with each passing day.

He grimaces how foreign his thoughts have become, how less human he’s become. But now’s not the time to be thinking of his ever fading humanity. He needs to eat. All he really needs is himself, so he gets up from the throne he’s sat on. He dusts off imaginary dirt from his lap and sets off to find yet another poor animal to claim as his victim. If there was one thing he’d swore never to do was feed on a human. 

Can’t really uphold that promise if I keep starving myself, he thinks. I wonder if it’ll be wolves or unsuspecting deer on the menu tonight. 

Finally out of the castle—one that was so graciously empty—his eyes linger onto the forest that lies ahead. Just as he’s about to take a step, he hears hushed voices. Part of him feels annoyed that someone’s decided trespassing was a suitable nighttime activity but his curiosity also gets the best of him. He makes his way towards the voices, keeping to the shadows. 

“We really shouldn’t be out here,” a voice says quietly, yet with the night so hushed, they might as well have been yelling. 

“We’ll be fine, you know you don’t have to be scared with me around, right?”

Leon hears the hesitance in the other’s voice just before they speak, “I know but there’s been more animal attacks as of lately. I don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“You have such an imagination, but that’s what I’ve always liked about you. I didn’t want us to miss this chance to be together with all the wedding planning that’s been going on. I’ve missed you. Missed us being alone together.”

Leon feels a pang of jealousy as his confliction has yet again robbed him of something so precious. Something he as a vampire will never get to have again. He moves to get a closer look at the couple before him when he carelessly steps on a layward branch. He holds his breath, more  out of habit than anything, as he quickly moves to obscure himself.

“Did you hear that?” The first voice asks.

“Hear what?” Leon hopes the second person might convince the both of them to continue with their walk but the first voice pipes in again.

“Is anybody there?” Leon decides to keep quiet, hoping they both lose interest.

“See, it was nothing, let’s just keep walking. We only have so much time before we have to head back.”

Leon listens to the pair of footsteps walk away but that ache in his chest doesn’t seem to go away.

Would it really be so bad to keep an eye on them? Leon deliberates as his feet follow after them, I just have to make sure they stay safe. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to convince himself of, the morality of stalking after a couple or if he’s really doing this with their best interest at heart. 

He follows them for some time, keeping a good few paces behind so as to not arouse suspicion. It’s only when they stop to settle down in the grass does he catch sight of them both. The first he sees is a man, dark-haired and brown-eyed. He’s got a smile on his face as he talks to his partner, you. 

The moon hangs high in the sky and perfectly illuminates your being to Leon. His eyes widen a fraction as he takes in your appearance. The smile you reflect back at your partner tugs at his heart. He can’t help but want it for himself. He’d do anything to have it all for himself. A feeling cements itself in his brain, he had everything he loved taken away from him in an instant. But you, he could have you, right? It doesn’t matter that you’re engaged to be married.

You would be his, no matter what it took. But acting too hastily is ill-advised, he knows capturing you had to be done with care and planning. And most of all, he had to make sure nothing and no one would get in his way, that included your so-called fiancé.

He memorizes your scent carried over to him by the wind. A slight shiver runs down his spine. He lingers to take one more glance at you before departing. He makes quick work of dinner and walks directly back to his abode. His dead heart beating in anticipation of what’s to come.

[dani474]

Jiang Cheng, the Golden Core, and why it's love. [PART 1]

First off, this has been a topic on my mind for a few weeks now and I've finally gotten around to putting my thoughts into a document. I was sharing my thoughts through tags and little notes in my drafts, but after some lovely encouragement from @travalerray I decided I'd go ahead and do it.

This didn't have as much focus on the fandom, but nevertheless gets my thoughts on this character and his relationship to Wei Wuxian across.

On my methods here, I went back through the manhua (mostly because it's much easier to skim through and get clips from) and I was making the draft as I went. That document turned out to be around 26 pages/11,200 words. I finalized by reordering what I wrote to make it more coherent (I hope) and added the novel clips needed so this is going to be super long.

Here we go.

The very first thing we learn about Wei Wuxian is gossip. Nothing in the first chapter is from his or Jiang Cheng's point of view. While not discussed overmuch in this, gossip is a HUGE factor in why their family relationship is so strained, including why the children are treated in much a way. This, of course, affects how Jiang Cheng navigates the world and his relationship with Wei Wuxian.

When we take a look at their youth, we can see quite a lot about their dynamic. The cloud Recesses Arc shows us:

“...You’ve already buried my corpse so many times. There’s nothing wrong with once more.” - Wei Wuxian

“Shoo, shoo! Don’t let me know the next time you’re doing such a thing! Don’t ask me to watch either!” - Jiang Cheng, in reply.

Even when he says this, Jiang Cheng follows Wei Wuxian around pretty often when he gets into trouble. Wei Wuixian often throws his arm around Jiang Cheng and teases him. They do the whole elbowing and tussling thing.

It’s very casual, reflecting certain loose boundaries due to being raised in the same household and being very close in age, while also being a contrast to what’s expected of them as people know Wei Wuixian is the son of a servant. This is a conflicting status that permeates their relationship.

Loud talking, playing, and loud arguments are common among the Yunmeng folks due to the nature of the sect’s rules and culture.

This gives us some context as to why Wei Wuixian is often speaking frequently and loudly and doing things with a looser regard for rules/politics other than just personality. It also tells us why Jiang Cheng responding to teasing and annoyance the way he does wouldn't be very noteworthy in Yunmeng.

Loudness and freeness are part of the philosophy and -- despite what his parents think - Jiang Cheng does reflect that, outside of having learned his attitude from his mother. Just differently than Wei Wuxian does. I'll come back to that.

Anyway. We get another hint at the complicated relationship and status dynamic when Lan Xichen, on the topic of the Water Ghoul hunt, says: "the head disciple and son of sect leader Jiang are quite well-known in Yunmeng.” Usually, the heir would be referred to first.

On top of this, the current social culture during this period is gradually getting tenser. Lan Xichen silently pointing to the sky to imply the waterborne abyss was a result of the Qishan Wen Sect and the others immediately getting it shows how people have gotten used to being unable to speak openly about the things happening. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian talk quickly about how there will be no repercussions or acknowledgement, but otherwise do not speak of it out loud, much less by name in public.

Still, they are children, and no one truly comprehends the scope of the Wen sect’s actions yet. Up until the Indoctrination, the biggest issue between them was Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian’s treatment of them. They try their best to deal with it.

For example, I noticed that while Wei Wuxian is arguing, stepping forward while they talk about Yanli and the arranged marriage, he doesn’t actually punch Jin Zixuan until this:

He clearly doesn’t like that people think this and this defense is about both of the Jiang siblings.

I don’t really have to point out the camaraderie in Jiang Cheng checking on Wei Wuxian while he’s kneeling during his punishment. Despite the brashness, their whole conversation here is casual and holds no jealousy about the last comment Jin Zixuan made. 

From here though, we can see how their relationship beings to become more fractured and malformed.

To start, I want to talk about Jiang Cheng’s view of Wei Wuxian and the internal philosophy that stems from his position as a sect heir. We all know Jiang Cheng complains that Wei Wuxian gets involved in other people’s business (ex. water ghoul/waterborne abyss) and this plays into the idea that Wei Wuxian is attempting to be a hero. In response to Wei Wuxian worrying about Lan Wangji’s leg injury during the indoctrination, says: “Stay out of it if you know what’s good for you.” Considering how tenuous their position is right now, this is understandable. Standing out is not a good idea, however they have no idea that their situation is much worse than they’re assuming. This is because they don’t know the Cloud Recesses were attacked, so having the Indoctrination right after is incredibly worrisome. 

I’m pointing this out because it’s a fundamental difference in perspective that causes the most prominent issue between them. Jiang Cheng, like his parents, believes that if they stay out of Wen business and keep their heads down, nothing will happen, but they’re severely underestimating the Wen’s ambitions. We learn proof of this later, when Madam Yu is surprised to hear about the Supervisory Offices. Wei Wuxian, in contrast, responds to the immediate threat of the Indoctrination and is ultimately unable to strategize about the long-term political consequences.

On one hand, they’d work well as strategists, because Wei Wuxian can adapt on the fly very easily and Jiang Cheng can observe and move according to the politics overall, they do not have the luxury here. (And, as the result of canon, are unable to do so in the future.)

This is why YunmengJiang sect was so unprepared. The response to the Wen’s, from pretty much everyone, was to stay low and wait it out. The larger sects relied on their status but, unlike the LanlingJin sect, couldn’t buy patience or leniency from the Wen. Because the disciples don’t fully comprehend the scope of what’s going on, they can’t respond to anything outside of immediate circumstances and can't predict the consequences. This is an issue for every single one of them.

During the Indoctrination, the two of them argue over whether or not Wei Wuxian should carry Lan Wangji (after learning about the CR burning), and once again, Jiang Cheng approaches with a specific philosophy: “If we can’t take care of ourselves, how can we take care of other people’s difficulties?”

This, here, is why Wei Wuxian protecting the Wen’s leads to Jiang Cheng agreeing to a staged defection. He cannot protect his sect and Wei Wuxian if he continues to involve himself with the Wen remnants and their difficulties. That was not a lack of care, but quite literally a lack of strength. I'll come back to this with more detail later.

When Wei Wuxian wakes up in Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng is able to bicker with him a little about the Xuanwu, but becomes increasingly upset, even as he gives a congradulations.

His comment about how Wei Wuxian shouldn’t have helped Lan Wangji results in Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian arguing over Wei Wuxian being favored while their son and heir is treated like he cannot understand their sect’s motto. By both Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu's own words belittle their son, even as they argue about it.

Of course, Madam Yu is blaming Wei Wuxian for the issue, even though the thing that started the “rebellion” was MianMian being threatened with her life. She ran to hide behind Lan Wangji and Lan Zixuan. They guard her by their own choice and only block her. Jin Zixuan arguing with Wen Chao causes Wang Lingjiao to order the soldiers to attack. Only after that does Wei Wuxian unsettle Wen Chao by reciting one of their ancestors. It’s unsurprising that Madam Yu never bothers to learn the circumstances. Nor that she dismisses the threat that the Wen’s truly pose.

I'm not blaming her for the attack on Lotus Pier, only her willful misunderstanding of the situation.

“One day he’ll definitely land our clan in some serious trouble.”

“Sect leader Jiang, take a good look at your biological son. I’m sure you know about the rumors, that people think Wei Ying is your..”

I want to note something here.

Madam Yu is angry because of the rumors. She is angry at Wei Wuxian because people believe he is Jiang Fengmian’s bastard. That she's been disrespected and dishonored. Jiang Cheng is upset because his father hates his mother – and by extension, him – and favors Wei Wuxian as a result. That's not even getting into his father's feelings for Canse Sanren.

Jiang Cheng is hurt and jealous because Wei Wuxian is noted as being able to follow the sect motto while he is scolded for not being able to. Here, his actions after the indoctrination went unsupported and unacknowledged. This is a very reasonable thing to be upset about. Pitting people so close in age, especially those raised together, is super unhealthy -- not to mention unfair-- especially for the one overshadowed.

Like how Yu Ziyuan can't seem to break out of Canse Sanren's shadow in her husband's eyes, or even the eyes of the public due to the favoritism, Jiang Cheng cannot either. Are their reactions always proportional? No, but there is a reason behind them.

Wei Wuxian responds by reassuring Jiang Cheng that even if he doesn’t understand or follow the sect motto by tradition, he can still be a great sect leader. This calms Jiang Cheng down enough that Wei Wuxian can put an arm around his shoulders again.

Here, Wei Wuxian promises: “In the future, you’ll be the sect leader and I’ll be your subordinate, just like your father and mine.”

I want to talk about what Wei Wuxian is actually saying here.

Yes, they can be the Twin Prides of Yunmeng, but the position he offers is one of servitude. Literally. 

In an attempt to reduce the tension between them, he leans into the perception that he is the son of a servant and offers to fulfill that role for Jiang Cheng* as his father had (“Wei Changze–Jiang Fengmian’s most loyal servant.”). Wei Wuxian is not doing this from a place of self-depreciation (as we know from how he talks about his parentage) but is probably an unconscious comparison to make Jiang Cheng feel less threatened. As head disciple, he shouldn’t really compare it to their father's relationship or positions, but he does. I don’t think Jiang Cheng caught it. 

*This is an issue that will crop up again later.

Half a month after the disciples returned from the indoctrination, Wang Lingjiao comes to Lotus Pier. They use an archery target as “proof” that a younger disciple is plotting against the Wen sect. This already tells us they just want an excuse to start trouble.

Then, Wang Lingjiao says she came to punish someone (WWX). She actually uses the rumors about Wei Wuxian’s parentage to goad Madam Yu into listening to her, by implying that protecting Wei Wuxian would be lending credit to them. This is a great example of how gossip has a huge influence on how people are perceived and the power it can wield over certain politics. 

Madam Yu does whip Wei Wuxian, saying: “...hadn’t I told you, long ago, you…unruly thing! Sooner or later, you’ll bring trouble to the Jiang clan!” Note the dehumanizing language.

Jiang Cheng is trying to stop his mother but is physically restrained by her two servants.

“While Madam Yu always pelted him with hostile words, she’d never really hit him hard before—two or three lashes at most, or being made to kneel or confined indoors, and it never took Jiang Fengmian long to release him from that. But this time, he took dozens of hits from that whip, each lash so hard his back burned with pain until it went numb.”

Remember, he ends up walking around and carrying Jiang Cheng with these injuries. He didn't truly complain about his injuries during the Indoctrination, and he doesn't -- even once -- complain here.

After finishing, she tells Wang Lingjiao that it would take at least a month to heal. When WLJ says she can chop off one of his arms and be left alone, Madam Yu genuinely looks to be considering it.  Jiang Cheng breaks away from the servant’s and covers Wei Wuxian’s body, telling his mother: “...It’s not like what she said at all…” [Regardless of what Jiang Cheng says in the immediate aftermath of seeing Lotus Pier, this is what he thought.]

Besides that, the only reason she didn’t was because Wang Lingjiao mentioned the Supervisory Office. Jiang Cheng trying to hold her in place doesn’t seem to deter her at all.

We could talk all day about the parenting of Madam Yu (and Jiang Fengmian), but it's not the point here, so I'll go on.

It takes two hours for Lotus Pier to be annihilated. That’s it. 

 Right after, he starts to cry because he wants his parents.

While his actions here were hurtful, it is not entirely intentional or malicious. Logically, he understands there was little to stop them from coming, but emotions won’t be soothed by that, so all he has is his pain and rage.

And once Jiang Cheng is rescued from Lotus Pier. Well.

Wei Wuxian mentions his self-esteem for a reason.

“I want revenge but…I don’t have a golden core anymore. How can I get revenge now? Core-melting hand. Hahahahahaha. Core-melting hand. Wei Wuxian, why did you save me? To let me live in this and understand that I can’t change anything?!”

He’s literally having a breakdown due to trauma and stress.

He attacks Wen Ning and is worried that Wei Wuxian brought them into a trap (fair concern). He chokes Wei Wuxian again for a moment before Wen Qing steps in. Jiang Cheng was mostly laughing and shouting here, and I have no idea (am given no indication even later) if he remembers any of this.

They stay in Yiling for 3 days and Jiang Cheng looks…Well dead inside. He’s mostly distant now that his initial rage is dampened. Wei Wuxian brings his spirit up by mentioning the golden core. Note here that Wei Wuxian wants to get revenge as well. He wants Jiang Cheng to be able to get his revenge. He went out of his way to do research in the novels to help achieve this. I don’t think I have to elaborate on why this is a contributing factor in the Golden Core Transfer.

Wei Wuixian leads Jiang Cheng to the mountain and says he can receive a golden core with the help of Baoshan Sanren, and remains there for 7 days. We don’t see Wei Wuxian’s thought process in the manhua, and I'll go into more detail later.

Unfortunately, when he tries to go to the town and into a winehouse, he gets cornered by Wen Chao and his goonies. Then you know, the burial mounds happened.

There's so much happening after Wei Wuxian's return, but for the most part, their personal relationship remains quite good.

 Look at how happy Jiang Cheng is to see Wei Wuxian again. His words are fond.

Wei Wuxian looks tired and less happy, but not upset either. Unsurprisingly, Jiang Cheng's response to worry and relief is to yell a bit and lightly punch him. It's not at all malicious and is typical of close male friends.

When Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have *their* typical brand of misunderstanding here, Jiang Cheng is quick to step between them and support Wei Wuxian as his sect leader.

This is the first time he's given the opportunity to do so, and yet, during the Phoenix Mountain Hunt, we see Jiang Cheng overhearing gossip, having the strength of the Yunmeng Jiang sect attributed to Wei Wuxian, once again with no acknowledgement of his work to rebuild the sect. His insecurities over this are deeply rooted, but the more external pressure he faces over it, the deeper the wedge between them becomes.

[We hear Jin Guangyao point out the weakness of this wedge outright, years later, but it's still surprising to see how much manipulation was going into that, and how much is due to sect weakness.]

In the aftermath of Wei Wuxian liberating Qionqi path, Jiang Cheng attempts to soothe the distrust and anger shown by the other sects, but Jin Guangshan specifically plays at his insecurities and lack of support to guide him to abandoning Wei Wuxian.

Stating: “Wei Ying is your right-hand man. You value him a lot. However, whether or not he respects a sect leader like you is hard to tell. During the flower banquet, he dared to throw a fit right in front of you. Yesterday, he was even more presumptuous with his back on you.” 

JGS continues: “He even dared to say something like ‘I never look up to Jiang Wanyin, this sect leader! --” and this is an outright lie. Lan Wangji tries to push against this; however, the Jin’s follow up with their own additions and ultimately speak louder. 

MianMian struggles with this as well, when she tries to defend WWX’s actions at Qionqi path. Her words, of course, are dismissed due to misogyny, more so than sect power dynamics. Even so, her words here are extremely relevant: “Fine! Your voices are louder! Fine! You’re the rational ones!”

Her statement here is exactly why this happens:

He does not have the political backing nor experience to outweigh everyone else, and their voices are so loud that his words end up carrying no meaning and no weight. Look at the expression there. He's not even frustrated, he just seems sideswept by it.

Jiang Cheng did not want to. He supported Wei Wuxian and was trying to protect the Wen’s due to Wen Ning and Wen Qing’s support. He is ultimately outweighed and outnumbered, regardless of how true Wei Wuxian’s claims about the prisoners or Jiang Cheng’s promises of alliance actually are. 

Initially, Jiang Cheng's visit to the burial mound is pretty non-judgmental. it's not until they being to discuss Wen Ning that the fractures forming show.

“Don’t you know how many eyes are watching you right now? We burn this corpse right now and return all of these remnants of the Wen sect, that way people will stop talking!”

We can talk all we want about Wei Wuxian’s goal here, but Jiang Cheng is in a completely different position. He’s a young, inexperienced sect leader and his sect is still diminished. Wei Wuxian is not trusted and the only people who spoke in support of either of them were shouted into silence. Right now, he does not have the room to think about how to protect the Wens, only how to reduce the backlash Wei Wuxian and his sect will face for it. 

Not to mention, those in power fear Wei Wuxian’s strength while also seeking his Stygian Tiger Seal. 

Everyone is familiar with this panel. But I think people often ignore its context (or its actual meaning entirely) when discussing Jiang Cheng as a character. He is taking Wei Wuxian’s side. He’s also saying that Wei Wuxian’s attempts at justice will not be regarded positively.

“Do you want me to say it clearer? If you insist on protecting them, then I won’t be able to protect you.” 

Wei Wuxian is the one who decides that Jiang Cheng – and the Jiang sect – should not protect him. Jiang Cheng never even implied such. In fact, he says the opposite. This is relevant because it speaks to how their goals, restrictions, and philosophies are different.

Jiang Cheng wants to protect his sect and stay out of other people’s business as they do not have the political clout or manpower to support anyone else. Wei Wuxian has no limitations because he no longer plays an active role as head disciple, and his own moral compass tells him that it’s more important to protect the Wens – the people currently facing an injustice – over safety. Both of them are unwilling to give up on their goal of protecting someone, and the current situation doesn’t allow for much compromise between these two things. Protecting the Wens automatically makes Wei Wuxian’s goal a threat to the current powers and Jiang Cheng knows it.

That doesn't mean he wanted to denounce Wei Wuxian, though.

And yes, he snarks here about Wei Wuxian understanding the Jiang sect motto more than him but has no space to linger on it. Instead, he proposes for a duel.

I want to point out that Jiang Cheng has no idea what the state of the prison camps were like as he had no chance to actually investigate. All he has is Wei Wuxian’s claims and everyone else’s scorn and manipulations.

Also, him stabbing Wei Wuxian can look pretty bad, but remember, Jiang Cheng does not know about the Golden Core Transfer, so he has no way to gauge the risks properly. And considering Wen Ning was involved in the duel for at least some of it, not using his sword would immediately give them away. Zidian is likely avoided because it’s a bit too. hm. Real.

The emotions driving their actions are genuine, even if the duel itself was staged.

In the end, it came down to protection for justice and debt (to Wen Qing and Wen Ning) vs. protection for security and stability.

This is a conversation between LWJ and WWX, but at its core is the whole issue:

“To be honest, I’d like to ask as well. If not like this, what else can I do? Give up the demonic path? Then what about the people on this mountain? Give them up? I can’t do that. Neither can you.* Is there anyone who could give me a nice broad road to walk on? A road where, even without the ghost path, I could still protect the ones I wish to protect.”

*And neither could Jiang Cheng. He can't give up on his sect.

Wei Wuxian holds no grudge over this because there was not really any other option. Because of the communication issues between them in general, they could not have had such a frank question of their options. Lan Wangji does not have the external pressure of a sect on his shoulders restricting him and he’s clearly weighing the risks. Jiang Cheng can care as much as he wants and can want to protect Wei Wuxian with all his strength, but unless they could talk like this and could open another path, they wouldn’t have been able to fulfill both goals.

Even after their duel though, Jiang Cheng arranged for Wei Wuxian to locate him and see Yanli in her wedding robes. He’s the one who got the idea of Wei Wuxian giving Jin Ling his courtesy name. Despite all circumstances, he’s still trying to keep Wei Wuxian as part of their lives. They even talk about the duel they had in a casual way. You can take Jiang Cheng's brutish words at face value, but his actions are telling us how much he cares, and his circumstances are telling us how much of a struggle it actually is. He even warns Wei Wuxian of it.

He adds: “You never listen to any of my opinions. One day, you’ll come to understand that what I said was right.” Fandom often mentions Jiang Cheng’s arrogance but let’s be real, Wei Wuxian is severely underestimating the dangers around him, and Jiang Cheng is right. Because he’s involved with the current politics, he can see that people will not be willing to leave them alone. 

They get one year of peace. No more.

The saddest thing is Jin Zixuan had genuinely invited Wei Wuxian to Jin Ling’s one month banquet. None of them could have even imagined that Jin Zixun would set up an ambush, nor did anyone know about Jin Guangyao playing behind the curtains for his father. Due to lack of information, they had no way to prepare. Wei Wuxian struggling to manage his emotional response to the situation is only one factor. Jin Zixuan wouldn't have been there without someone influencing him to.

By the way, Wei Wuxian being blamed for something he didn’t do, with no opportunity to defend himself proves Jiang Cheng’s point. He didn’t do anything for a year. And he was still the villain somehow. They did not care to figure out the truth. They already decided Wei Wuxian was guilty and that his death would be justified.

As a result, Wen Ning and Wen Qing sacrifice themselves in hope that the Lanling Jin sect will leave Wei Wuxian alone. The themes of love and sacrifice are repeated to us again.

I have no idea why Yanli would be at a siege conference, but she was. She went outside searching for Wei Wuxian specifically because she wanted to see him, and because she wanted to help him. When it comes to each other, the three of them are very impulsive and irrational. This is very much a mutual issue.

She saw a threat to her A-Xian, even as he began to stop the corpses, and jumped to defend him. She would’ve been safe had she stayed in JC’s arms (or WWX’s in the novels, I think), but it was instinctive.

[And again.]

I’m not surprised this, of all things, would severely damage Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian's relationship. And using the Stygian Tiger Seal makes sense in context, but now, there’s nothing that can convince the others to leave the Burial mounds alone. Jiang Cheng wouldn't be able to argue for rehabilitation even if he tried.

The fact that this siege ends in Wei Wuxian's death and still isn't the end of their relationship is just. yeah. I'll be going over that in part 2.

LINK TO PART 2