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l0ngschl0ngking · 2 years ago

Text

Not the person I once knew

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: past lovers reunite after many years…and then what?

warnings: SMUT (vaginal fingering, oral-m!receiving, protected p in v -i know, shocker-, biting, choking, overstimulation al liiil’ possesive!Joel -just a smudge-), ANGST, mentions of death and shootings, thoughts and mentions of suicide, cursing, Joel and reader being two idiots that cannot express how they feel and…fluff because I can’t help myself

word count: 10k ( yeah the zero is supposed to be there)

A/N: I am too jumping on the Joel Miller train. This fic actually has plot and it’s not just a straight up porn which is shocking :D. Also I am actually crazy - I have a week off from school and that’s why I write that much. I can’t stop - literally.

Your feet were aching – you've had to walk at least 20 or so kilometers by now – and the cold was biting your skin most unpleasantly – finding a good winter coat or any kind of winter clothes was not easy in this fucking Outbreak. You started to feel thirsty and tired and all you wanted to do was lie down and fall asleep – maybe death by cold wasn't the worst fate you could've endured.

Your mind quickly flashing to your group – you've killed most of them, the snarling of them still ringing in your ears, the smell of gunpowder lingering in your nose. You've done what you had to do – one of your guys got infected and infected almost all of the other ones – the ones that survived either left to fend for themselves which you thought was the stupidest thing ever or killed themselves – fucking cowards. Their blood stuck to you like a second skin – the smell of iron making you uneasy when you started to think about it. Maybe you should've killed yourself too. What was the point in surviving now, anyways? You didn't have a group anymore and you had no supplies anymore. Sure, you could eat the snow for water intake and try to hunt something – but you felt too exhausted for that. Your knees buckling – you fall into the cold snow – you hear something then. Voices, the sound of horses neighing and a…dog? Were you starting to hallucinate? You weren't though – the sounds getting louder and clearer – you quickly scramble to your feet and grab your pistol but you pale when you see how many of them are there – all of them looking more sure of themselves on their horses and with their guns raised on you. The dog barks at you, snapping and growling and you've never thought that you might die getting robbed and then mauled by a dog – though they did not look like raiders. Their clothes look clean and kind of new – compared to your worn and torn-off jacket at least.

Someone says something but you don't hear them – your gaze focused on the dog, your pistol pointing at the handler. You've always been a dog lover – before the Outbreak at least – but this didn't look like he wanted to be friends with you.

“Hey, I said drop your fucking gun or I'll shoot your head clean off!” One of them says – repeating himself – and you gulp dryly doing what he says – you were a fighter but also you weren't stupid. There were too many of them and even if you had good aim you wouldn't be able to shoot your way out of this. The guy who addressed you squints his eyes when you lower the gun to your feet – he gestures for you to kick it further and you reluctantly do so.

“Listen here, cowboy,” you sass when you see the cowboy hat on his head, “I was just passing by – my group is dead, they got infected and-” at your words everyone grips their guns a little tighter – the person holding the dog loosening the leash a little in his hands. “Whoa, whoa, I am not infected, I swear.” You sound desperate and you are – you probably should have blown your fucking head of yourself when you still had the chance.

“We will see about that.” One of them gruffs – you guess it's the one closest to you, the one on your right – and you have the urge to break his nose. Yeah, if you were in their position you wouldn't trust someone either but you are not – and you feel pretty fucking terrified – even after years of survival. “Release Buckley!” The first one – the one with that stupid cowboy hat – says and then you see the big ball of fur running towards you. Closing your eyes you pray that he can't smell any jerky on you – you know so he could nibble on your fingers a little and get a taste of you. The pain of teeth digging into you as you expected doesn't come and so you open one of your eyes – you see that the dog's tail is wagging and a grin slowly makes its way on your face. You slowly bend one of your knees - you are not getting any younger and pain shoots through your leg – but you ignore it and start petting Buckley. He's not that bad when he doesn't look like he wants to eat you alive.

A high-pitched whistle cuts through the air and then he is gone – heeling opposite to the person who previously handled him. They don't say anything more and start to slowly turn their horses on their heels when an idea comes to your mind – they look well-fed and clean, and you feel hungry enough that you would eat practically anything. The exhaustion creeps back up at you after the adrenaline wears off and you shout a quick “hey” - their heads turning in question. You offer them a little smile, kicking your feet into the snow and putting your gun back.

“You guys have a place for one more hungry stomach? I just want something to eat – maybe a few hours of sleep and then I'll be out of your hair. Pinky promise.” you grin and show off your pinky finger – you've always had a way of trying to make the situation lighter than it really was and now that you know they don't pose any tŕeal threat – for now at least – you get your hopes up. All of them share a quick look before the one with that stupid cowboy hat – who wears something like that in the middle of the winter – nods and your grin spreads wider. You grab one of the hands that reach towards you to pull you on a horse – and when you are finally on its back, you stroke its muscular thigh lightly. Maybe this day was not so bad after all.

When you arrive at Jackson it is almost noon. You raise both brows when you see the wooden heavy gait in front of you– the people patrolling their stations curiously looking back at you. When you asked them if you could come with them you didn't expect a whole fucking community of people in a small town with electricity and other necessities – your eyes wandering to the various small buildings that look like shops more so than something where you could take shelter. When you asked them if you could come with them you expected a flimsy building without windows in which you would hardly make a fire. You aren't surprised anymore why they acted so tough – families lived here, old couples and people of various ages. A small flicker of hope goes straight to your heart – maybe you could stay here – you were tired of fighting to live another day. And this looked like a great fucking place.

The guy that was riding with you dismounts the horse – helping you do the same and you pet the animal – thanking it quietly. People don't really look at you – at least not so openly as the ones that were taking patrol – they are doing their own things – some of them just crossing the street, others helping to build a new building – you wonder what that is going to be for – a group of kids runs right in front of you squeaking. They play and your heart aches – it's the first time you've seen kids be so carefree since the outbreak happened – it looked like their childhood was not ripped from them. One of the kids – a young girl no older than 6 – looks almost like Sarah – curly wild hair, big eyes and the cutest dimples you've seen adorn her face – and you feel a pang of hurt in your heart. Reaching for your necklace you squeeze the ring that is on it tightly in your palm – Joel and Sarah would love it here.

The man you've called cowboy asks you something and you turn to look at him – he's quite handsome but he is a lot younger than you for sure – he has this boyish innocence still written all over his face when you pin him with your stare. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I will accompany you to the canteen. Tommy is already waiting there, a few men that were with us already informed him about your arrival.” He sounds formal. Too formal – as if his words were learned. Like a little boy scout you think. Images of Tommy Miller through your mind and you grin fondly at the memory of him – you could never imagine him being a leader of a community like this.

“Lead the way, cowboy.” You don't miss the way that the boy's ears gain a darker shade of red and so do his cheeks.

When he leads you to the canteen – you can't believe that they have a real freakin canteen here – you look around because you can't take it all in at once. Jackson looks like an old town from some kind of cowboy movie – maybe that's why the boy wears the stupid hat. A few people on the way politely greet you and you greet them back. When you arrive at the canteen the bo points to the man that has his back turned back on you and before you can thank him – has gone. The lights adorning the room are a nice touch – it looks old school here – old wooden chairs, and tables with plaid cloth scattered across the room, and you can see an old Coca-Cola freezer from the corner of your eye. Your steps are much lighter – even though you are still hungry and tired you're at least not cold anymore, the temperature here is not as cold as outside. The man that cowboy pointed at talks to someone – an older lady with a high-pitched voice with pretty blue eyes – and you wait before they end their conversation, standing to the side. The lady whispers something to him – you can see her lips moving but don't hear anything – and then the man turns and looks at you. If you have something in your hands right now you would for sure drop it.

Tommy fucking Miller was standing a few steps away from you. He looked older – of course – and his hair was a lot longer than you'd last seen him, the mustache he was sporting suited him. You saw the way he scrunched his brows together – as if trying to categorize you to one of his people – and then you saw the realization cross his eyes. His hands drop to his sides and when you whisper a hushed “Tommy ?” he was right in front of you – hugging you close to his body. The hug was desperate and you felt the tears you held back falling from your eyes – the palms of his hands soothingly caressing your back. After a few minutes or was it seconds he pulls away from you and you have so many questions but none of it comes out of your mouth – the lump in your throat not allowing you to. If he was here – alive and breathing – did it mean Sarah and Joel were here too? Or…No, you couldn't think that way. You had buried the memories of Millers a long time ago – but now, seeing Tommy here? He gave you hope.

“Wow-uh, I’d thought I’d never see you again, Doc.” The small nickname of endearment falling from his lips makes you sob and he softly grabs your elbow so you two could sit at the nearest table – a young woman quickly rushes to your side when Tommy gestures with his hand for her to come and he whispers something in her ear – just now you can see the few people scattered around staring at you curiously.

“Tommy-I-is-is Joel here too? And Sarah.” You grab the ring on your necklace tighter – you've been dreaming of this moment for too long – and he looks at your hand noticing the shiny thing attached to the chain on your neck. The engagement ring Joel proposed with.

“I-uh- I'll tell you everything but you need to eat first, Doc, alright?” You don't feel hungry anymore but you nod – noticing the look in Tommy's eyes makes you uneasy – but he offers you a smile and you offer one right back reaching for his hand – squeezing his hand in yours.

You sit and listen to Tommy talk – you aren't sure if minutes pass or hours – but your eyes nurn from all the crying and you feel your stomach drop with your heart multiple times during Tommy's story telling how he – they – come up here. How Joel was desperate to contact you – you were in Houston on a quick trip with your friends at the time, to look for the wedding dress – seems stupid when you think about it right now. How they killed Sarah – your sweet little Sarah, you thought of her as your own, you've lived with her for almost three years and that girl adored you and you adored her right back – you cannot imagine the pain Joel felt when she was killed right in his arms. Tommy tells you about Joel's suicide attempt too – how he didn't see any purpose in life when both his daughter and fiance were not around anymore, he didn't know if you were still alive. He tells you about his wife, how he got here – how he joined Fireflies for a while and you have the urge to punch him when he says that – you have a distaste for that motherfuckers. He tells you about Ellie – not much though – but enough to figure out Joel cares about that girl a whole lot. And most importantly he announces to you that both of them are here and you almost jump out of your chair to go and find him – but Tommy quickly grabs your elbow and stops you. He tells you about how Joel changed a lot – but so have you. When you tell him that he just shakes his head – you don't understand.

“Doc, I don't know how he will react seeing you after 20 years. He is not the person you once knew. I think you should sleep on it first.”

You want to protest but the sound of the door opening and the rushed call of “Tommy!” stops you. You look at who interrupted you and it's a girl close to Sarah's age. She has short brown hair tightened up in a ponytail and a pair of brown eyes. She has a scar across her brow and when she stops next to Tommy and mutters a quick fuck – you know it's Ellie. Joel's Ellie.

“I heard there's someone new in town and I was super curious – Joel told me to wait for him but then he started playing on his stupid guitar and-” he still plays on a guitar. That pulls a little smile on your face. The girl seems like she didn't even notice you and Tommy wants to open his mouth when Ellie seems finally acknowledges your presence.”Fuck, it's you. You're the new person.” Tommy scolds Ellie when she curses but you just grin at her attitude and seemingly “I want to know and also do know everything ” mindset.

“It's okay, Tommy. God knows I curse a lot too. Hi, Ellie.” She seems confused about how you know her name and you've missed talking to kids – God you have missed your job so much, after all, that's how you and Joel met. Sarah broke her leg and when the nurse told him you could finally see them he was more nervous than a mouse being chased by a cat. He was so worried about Sarah that he didn't even notice you ogled him after you were all done with Sarah – but of course, she did. She was a sweet kind and when they left she muttered to her father he should definitely ask you on a date – he just shook his head and told her not to be silly – you were too pretty for him. Turned out you lived close by and from their visit you've started seeing both Sarah and Joel a lot more outside your work. It was you who finally got the courage to ask the hot single dad out – you will never forget how he gaped at you seemingly not trusting his own voice to answer so Sarah quickly jabbed him in the ribs and said that: “he would very much like that” - he was talking her ear off about you even unknowingly so.

“Okay, how the fuck do you know my name and who are you because it seems you and Tommy are big buddies here. Just so you know he has a wife.” She says matter of factly and you think you like this kid a lot – you can see why Joel does too.

Tommy clears his throat. “Ellie, this is Doc.” He says and he doesn't even notices the fact he called you your nickname – you see the way Ellie's brows scrunch up in confusion. “She's a long lost…family.”

“What, are you like their sister? If so you for sure received all the pretty genes – though Joel never said anything about ever having a sister.” She's a lot more talkative than you thought she would be and you think it might be because she finally has a place that she can call home and not worry about stranger danger – at least not that much.

You chuckle. “No I am…” you look at Tommy to see if you can say who you are – though you don't know if Joel still thinks of you as his fiánce – after all, it's been 20 years. He just nods. “ I am Joel's fiánce” You can hear her gasp and say “holy shit!?” - most of the people in the canteen turn their heads to throw her a nasty look. Well, that much at being discreet

“You are Joel's dead fiánce? You don't seem that dead to me.” She mutters that last sentence as she starts inspecting your face and scrunches her nose at you. “You smell.” She states matter of factly and Tommy scolds her once again but you just shrug your shoulders at him.

“It's true, Tommy. No harm in being honest.” If Ellie knows about you it meant she must know about Sarah too and it also must mean Joel talked about you to her. That fact makes your heart build a little faster. Maybe…maybe he still cares about you – logically you know he does, he was a very loyal man back in the days too – but still, it makes your cheeks heat up.

“Joel will lose his mind! You have to see him like right now!” she sounds enthusiastic and you are too – seeing Joel after 20 years? You've been dreaming of this moment for so long…Tommy interrupts your little fantasy – clapping his hands he throws a look at Ellie and smiles at you.

“I think it's for the best if you showered first, Doc As Ellie said you don't smell so fresh and maybe a reunion with your husband would be a lot happier if you don't make his whole house stink, eh?” You regularly nod and when Tommy says you can shower at his Ellie says she will come with you – she asks you a lot of questions about yourself – where you grew up, what did you do before Outbreak, where did the nickname Doc come from – she says you are super cool when you answer her you were pediatrician before everything went to shit. She asks how you and Joel met and you answer her truthfully – you've never liked lying. Tommy just walks next to you and listens – you look at him from the corner of your eyes and see he is thinking – he always has this look on his face – his brows are scrunched and his lips are set in a thin line. Joel has that look too when he thinks about something or concentrates – it was your favorite quirk of his.

The walk is quick and you meet Mariah – she's sweet – she offers you clean clothes and when she closes the door behind you so you can take a shower – you exhale loudly. Knowing that Joel is here and that you will see him made your stomach twist in anticipation. Ellie hangs back downstairs with Mariah and Tommy and you can hear their hushed voices – you are pretty sure that they are talking about you. You want to quickly hop in the shower but when you do it's like heaven on earth – the first spray of hot water hits your sore muscles and you feel yourself start to relax. You haven't had a hot shower since the beginning of the outbreak and you missed it so badly. You try to scrub all of the grime and blood from your skin and hair but it seems like mission impossible and you stay in the shower for far longer than the 10 minutes you said. When you step out of the shower you look at yourself in the mirror – at your face and the bags under your eyes, at your body scattered with scars and the thought of Joel not liking what he will see quickly flashes through your mind but you push it away just as quickly as it came – this was a different world. You wrap the fluffy towel around yourself and sigh in bliss. The clothes Mariah gave you fit you and maybe it's that much of your style – but they are clean and smell like they were just pulled fresh out of the washing machine. When you come down quickly the banter stops between the three of them and you can hear Ellie say that “great, you finally don't look like shit”. She grabs you by the arm and leaves the house – dragging you through the streets of Jackson. She walks quickly for someone so small and you try to keep up with her – the new winter coat you wear is flowing behind you with the speed you are walking.

When you arrive at the house Joel and Ellie live you try to catch your breath muttering that you are not as young as you used to be – Ellie just rolls her eyes and steps on the porch which creaks under her footsteps. You like the house – at least from the outside – you imagined something like that when you planned to move with Sarah and Joel after you two marry.

“So, we are here. Take off your boots when you come in – Joel hates cleaning up the snow I leave behind when I come in and walk in boots through the house.” You nod but then she is pushing you in and you throw her a scared look.

“You are not coming with me?” You hiss and she just shakes her head as if it was the stupidest thing she has ever heard.

“No. Enjoy your time together. I don't want to hear you two fucking.” And then she shuts the doors behind you with a force you didn't even know a little kid could possess. Right after she do you hear a gruffed “Ellie I told you to wait for me we talked about -” he stops mid-sentence and you feel like all of the air in your lungs leaves your body when comes into the view, He looks older – but somehow more handsome then you've last seen him. The grey in his hair suits him, and the patches in his beard are now more prominent than they were before. He looks good – more than good. You don't know what to do or say. The two of you just keep staring at each other – he looks you up and down and you see his breath becoming quicker. You're the first one to break the silence.

“Hi, Joel. Long time no see.” You laugh quietly and the tears in your eyes leave your vision blurred. You're the one who moves first too and you hug him tightly – he changed over the years, he's softer and he doesn't smell like he did back in the days – but there's something about his presence that feels entirely like Joel and you grab onto his plaid shirt – squeezing it in your fists. You don't want to pull away – you never want to leave him again but when you feel him not responding to the hug you slowly pull away and look into his eyes. He's scanning your face and now you see tears in his eyes as well. The weight of his calloused hands is more than welcome and you close your eyes when you feel his thumbs slowly stroke your cheeks. The small escapes your throat and you nod when he quietly – oh, so quietly murmurs - “you are alive.”. You stay like that for a while – both of you don't dare to move in case this was all just a dream. You want to hug him again – to feel him against you but when you try to pull him closer to you he unexpectedly quickly pulls you away. You look at him confused and he wipes his tears away – he doesn't know how to act around you. It's been too long. He buried the memories of you and never wanted them to resurface. The knowledge that you are alive and here right in front of him hits him like a fright train. It scares the fucking shit out of him.

He clears his throat and avoids your gaze when he asks you if you want to sit – you agree hastily - you didn't take off your boots like Ellie said and you contemplate for a flash of a second that maybe you should - when you see the change in his stance and attitude. He's trying to distance himself from you and you don't understand why – wasn't he glad you were here?

You look around the living room. It's spacey and you hate that small painting of deer above the fireplace. You quickly scan the bookshelf and figure most of the books are Ellies. When you sit on the worn-off couch you expect that Joel will sit next to you – but he moves across the room and keeps standing. You are confused and you don't understand – you never expected your reunion to go this way. It stays quiet and you break the silence once again – he never was much of a talker anyway- you and Sarah kept the house full of laughter and it was never quiet thanks to both of you – and he never thought he would miss it that much.

“I met Ellie. She actually dragged me here.” You chuckle but he doesn't respond – this was such a bad idea. He tears your heart apart with his stoic stance and silence and doesn't even know it. But he can't bring himself to speak or move – he worries if he does you will disappear.

“Okay, I guess I will go.” He wants to tell you to stay here with him. But alas nothing comes out of his mouth – though when he sees the ring on your neck he gasps and you throw him a questioning look.

“You-you kept it after all these years.” You are confused but when you see where his gaze is trained you look at your engagement ring and smile. “Yeah, I-uh, I've never stopped thinking about you or Sarah you know.” He sharply inhales, he wants to tell you so much. “And every time I look at it I hear her annoyed voice scolding you on how you proposed.” You snort and he grins softly remembering your light laughter and Sarah's huffing on how un-romantic he was.

“Babe just another five minutes, please.” You grumble and feel him smile against your skin – his patchy beard scratching your neck. His hands squeeze your hips and your breath hitches when you feel his tongue flatten against your pulse point. He hums against your skin and nips at your skin – you try to push him away but he just grins wider and hovers above you.

“You know you said that six times now come on, want to take you somewhere nice. Promise I will make it worth it.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you giggle at his antics – he was the one who slept in most of the time – but on days like this – where you feel exhausted from the previous night's session of amazing sex – you feel like you could sleep till afternoon. You slowly kiss the bald spot on his beard and one of your hands sneaks to the band of boxers – he grabs your hand quickly and shakes his head at you.

“Na-ah, won't work on me this time, sweetheart. You can't seduce me.” You just hum and kiss the spot between his shoulder blade and neck – gently scraping your hand through his already tousled hair. His eyes flutter close for a moment and it's now your turn to grin against his skin. You know you won.

“Mmm, I don't know but you left your girlfriend pretty unsatisfied last night.” You try to push the smile off your face when he quickly opens his eyes at your words – you know he never backs down from a challenge.

“Oh?” You hum and finally cup his semi-hard cock in your hand. He grunts and you smile, biting your lip when he slowly puts his fingers inside your panties. “So wet for me already baby, was three orgasms last night not enough for you, mhm?” He asks when he pushes two fingers inside of you and you gasp – arching your back and he squeezes one of your breasts – his now hard cock strains against his boxers.

“How do you know I-oh fuck. Didn't fake it?” you grit out when his fingers brush against the spongy spot inside of you – his thumb drawing circles on your clit leisurely. His eyes darken at your question and he hooks the two of his fingers inside of you – it feels too good and all you can do is just moan in pure bliss.

“Oh, believe me, sweetheart, I know. This sweet pussy grips me like a vice when you cum. Guess I need to remind you.” The other hand that was squeezing your tit now goes higher and he strokes your jaw – you grant his access to your mouth and he growls when you bite on his lower lip and your go to the back of your head when he speeds his hand – his tongue sliding into your mouth and when he pulls away you kiss the underside of his jaw.

“Guess you do.” he mumbles something alongside “such a smart mouth” before his hands grab you around your throat and put small pressure on it – you shudder and he just hums when he feels you close. “Gonna cum for me, won't you?” You just nod and when you finally do cum – you bite his shoulder, your nails scraping across his back. He pulls his fingers out of you and sticks them in your mouth – you hum around them and push him so he is the one laying on his back.

“I have to return the favor.” You throw him a cheeky look and he just mutters an “oh god” when you pull him out of his boxers – the tip already red and sensitive, leaking precum out of it. "Guess I will have my breakfast early."

An hour later Sarah is already up and grins at you. You bid her a good morning – you try to look presentable – you've already brushed your teeth, changed and you smile at her when you see that she made pancakes.

“Sooo, do you like the ring?” she asks and you stop pouring coffee into Joel's mug. He throws Sarah a quick look of “don't say another word, please” but she ignores him. “You know, the one dad proposed with?” your go slack-jawed and look at Joel who quickly scrambles to his feet from the chair and pulls you to him.

“What is she talking about, Joel? You ask and he uncertainly smiles and bends one knee – you see the little black velvet box and when he opens it you gasp – the ring inside of it is beautiful – simple and elegant and tears well up in your eyes.

“Oh my god, dad. You said you would propose before the sunset.” Joel shrugs his shoulders and keeps his gaze trained on you.

“That was the plan but were… preoccupied.” He grins at the last word and Sarah mutters a quick “gross” but starts looking for that old stupid camera to make wvideo of the proposal– hoping you would say yes. She thought of you almost like a mother and when Joel told her he wanted to marry you she squealed in delight.

“So whad’ya say, sweetheart? Will you marry me? Even though I am proposing in our kitchen and with my pajamas on.” You nod and he lets out a breath of relief – when he stands up you kiss him passionately.

“You won't get rid of me now that easily, Texas.” You whisper against his lips as he wipes your tears away.

“And I wouldn't have it any other way.” You couldn't wait for the new chapter of your life with Joel and Sarah by your side

Joel stays quiet for a long time after your confession and he almost misses you leaving – but he registers the door shutting softly. He falls onto the floor – putting his hand on his heart which seems like it will fall out of his chest any moment- his breath is quick and he can't seem to calm himself down. His ears are ringing and he registers the flow of tears after they fall on his cheeks and into his mouth – the salty flavor of them sits heavy in his mouth – and he wishes he could be man enough and run after you. But he doesn't – he stays sitting up on his living room floor the face of you haunting his mind alongside with the old memories

Tommy was right. Your fiánce was not the person you once knew. Joel seems to be avoiding you because you've been in Jackson for a week now and didn't see him at all. Not that you minded after seeing his enthusiasm – or rather lack of – at seeing you. You try to not think about it that much and throughout the day you occupy yourself – at night you cry a lot – Mariah always comes to your room and shushes you to sleep or if you are talkative that night she lets you talk. It's like having a girls' night but more…depressing. The people in Jackson are nice and you try to help everywhere you can. Whether it be with kids or at the canteen. Helping with sheep or horses – you often go and visit Buckley – he soothes your ongoing nerves. Joel will have to come out of hiding one day. And you are not ready for that. On the other side Ellie seems to hang with you a lot – the day after your meeting with Joel she almost tackled you to the ground when she forcefully asked what did you do to Joel – you have to give it to her, that girl got spirit and an undying loyal heart like the man she is living with. After trying to explain it to her –it was very hard because she thinks Joel can do no wrong really – and you are not saying he did, she gave in pretty easily and started hanging out with you.

You are staying at Tommy for a while – at least before you decide if you will leave which is very unlikely or they will try to find you another accommodation. She comes there every afternoon and brings her science books – you found an anatomical book in the library one day and kept it with you – and you try and teach her the various Latin words or show her where is what on her body – three days ago you two drew a life-sized human and marked bones on it and such. You've met other people too and learned that the shy cowboy's name was Henry – he asked you out and you admired him for his braveness but you told him you are probably closer to his mother's age than to be his girlfriend.

Tommy went and tried talking to Joel too but you both know how stubborn he can be and when you asked him how did it go he just shook his head low and offered you a sad smile. Today you wanted to help an old lady, Mrs.Grempinks - or something like that – with knitting. Her hands were shaking the past few days and she felt sad – you offered her help and she accepted – she doesn't need to know you do not know how to knit at all. At least it will maybe make her feel better that she is not the only one in the room with poor knitting skills. On the way to her, you come across Ellie and she lets out a relieved sigh when she spots you.

“Here you are I've been looking everywhere for you.” she empathizes the word everywhere and starts dragging you with her – where you aren't sure.

“Hey, Ellie. Slow down. Ellie!” you shriek when you figure out where exactly she is dragging you – to her – Joel's- house and you burrow your heels into the snow-covered ground.

“Joel isn't home and I want to show you something really cool – I've been working on it for the past couple of days after you borrowed me your anatomy book.” You want to protest and you turn around in the direction of Mrs. Grempkin's house but you don't have the heart to tell Ellie that you don't have time and Joel is not home and you would leave soon enough anyways – she will just show you her little project and then it's gonna be as if you never even put your foot in the house again. When she pulls you inside she again quickly closes the door behind you and dread overcomes you – oh no she didn't – she shows you the two keys in her hand and you know the other one is Joels. She locked you out.

“I am sorry but both of you are miserable and you have to talk it out!” There is nothing to talk about with Joel – he doesn't need your presence near him, it's been clear and you mouth a quiet “please, Ellie, don't do this” while you jumble with the handle. It's no use and you sigh thumping your forehead against the door. You quietly take your boots off this time and start looking around the house – looking for Joel to tell him what just happened.

You find him in his workshop – it's nice and you stay in the doorway while looking around. You see the various little wooden figures and you find it cute that he found something he can get lost in. The various guitars on the wall peak your interest – you've always loved when he played and his back is still turned on you while he focuses on his woodwork – you enter the room slowly and when you touch one of his guitars a low “hi” echoes throughout the room. His back is turned still but his hands stopped moving and he is sitting still.

“Didn't know you could hear me.” You say and he chuckles lowly.

“I'd be dead by now if I didn't hear someone sneaking up on me.” He says and you hum acknowledgment – when he finally turns to look at you your breath hitched because he is so effortlessly handsome it hurts. You cross your arms around your chest.

“I wasn't sneaking up on you.”

“Sure you weren't.” He throws you a grin and it's different than the last time you talked – or didn't really – to him. He is more relaxed and he actually looks like he doesn't mind seeing you in his house. It's quiet for a while but not that uncomfortable silence that suffocates. You look at one another and you take him all in – his aquiline nose and his full lower lip, his brown eyes and you look at the dip of his neck – licking your lips. It's suddenly too hot in here with the way his gaze burns into you.

“I am sorry.” He offers and you don't understand what for – or you do – you just want him to expand that sentence because you felt like a fool the last time you were here. “I am sorry for the way I reacted but I never thought I'd see you again and when you just appeared in my house I was overwhelmed with emotions I didn't know I could still feel. After Sarah died I-” He chokes and you are in front of him in a blink of a second – cupping his cheeks and he closes his eyes bathing in your gentle touch which he doesn't deserve - or at least he thinks so

“You don't have to tell me anything. Tommy told me and I-I am sorry what happened to Sarah. And everything you've been through, Joel.” You say and he opens his eyes and shakes his head – none of what happened was your fault and you shouldn't be sorry. He was glad you weren't with him when all of it went to shit because you'd probably be here by now. It's easy to be this intimate with him and you bask in the way he lets you touch – you expect him to pull away like last time – but he doesn't. Instead, he brings his lips closer to yours and searches for your gaze which drops when he licks his lower lip.

“I want to kiss you, sweetheart,” he murmurs and your lips are almost – almost touching when he says so. His forehead is pressed up against yours and your hands that were previously holding his face now move behind his neck – your nails scratch the spot behind his ear gently and he closes his eyes – whether in pure bliss or to hold himself back you don't know – though if its the latter you don't want that. “Need to kiss you,” he adds. You just nod your head in agreement – you wanted nothing more than to kiss him the last time you saw him.

“What are you waiting on then, Texas?” You tease and you feel him smile into the kiss – it's just a gentle press of lips – as if he was testing the waters. One of his hands grabs your hip – squeezing it – and the other moves behind your head and pushes you closer – he needs you closer. The wet press of his lips is more urgent now and his tongue licks your lower lip. You grant him access into your mouth and then the kiss becomes more urgent, more passionate, more desperate – Joel was always a good kisser and you always enjoyed just making out with him late at night to some bad movie that was on the TV. The hand on your hip moves lower and he cups your ass – you moan into his mouth and he hums, the other hand now stroking the hinge of your jaw. Your hands scratch his scalp and he almost but purrs – pulling away from you he plants butterfly kisses across your face.

“Bedroom?” The question seems silly – you need him and if you'd be any younger you'd jump his bones right here on the floor. But you are not so you nod and he pecks your lips quickly before he grabs your hand – squeezing your fingers in his – and leads you to his bedroom. When you enter it he closes the door more forcefully than needed and before you have time to look around he is pushing you onto the bed – your back hits the mattress and he grins – he hasn't seen this sight in over 20 years and he is enjoying every second of it. You sit up and pull him by the collar of his shirt. He is quick with it – his mouth on yours again and his hands start exploring your body – they go from your thighs up to your tummy and then higher – he squeezes your tits – you moan and his hands move higher cupping your cheeks tenderly. He pulls away and moves your hair out of your face.

“Need you so badly.” He pants – and you feel just the same. You feel him start undressing you but you want to make this last as long as possible. You push him away and he seems confused before you are pushing him on his back – your sit on his lap and you feel how hard he is under his jeans – you test the waters and grind down on him – your hands on his chest and he really wants to keep his eyes open but the feel of you on him makes him feel like he's fuckin teenager again that will bust his load into his pants any second. “Fuck, gonna make me cum before the real fun even begins and I am not young as I used to be. If that happens I will have to eat you out at least three times.” You grin and bend down to kiss his neck – your tongue leaving hot trails in its wake. He sits up with you and his hands fly to your lower back to support you. He surges forward – his tongue exploring your mouth, mapping your teeth with it and when you feel his hands trying to take your shirt off – you tug him by the hair roughly – his hips bucking up to meet yours as he moans your name brokenly.

“Slow down, baby. Want to appreciate you.” You push his chest so he will be laying again – he wants to protest but you put one of your fingers to his lips. The look he gives you is downright sinful before he is sucking it into his mouth – his teeth nipping it and you can't look away from his advances. His tongue peaks out and you feel the way he swirls it around your digit just like used to when he ate you out. You moan brokenly and put another one there and he bites into them softly. The small butterfly kisses you leave on his scar from his suicide attempt makes him drop your fingers from his mouth as he groans loudly – he feels so fucking appreciated and loved at this moment that it makes his head dizzy. “Need to see you, baby. Sit up.” He does and you unbutton his shirt slowly one by one while he kisses your jaw and your neck – sucking at it once in a while his tongue flattens out against your pulse point where he leaves a mark.

“Fuck, want you to take your shirt off too.” You don't have time to comply before he is pulling it over your head and you are not wearing any bra – the one Mariah gave you did not fit you – and he immediately reaches for them. He pinches one of your nipples while he sucks on your other one and you throw your head back – it always felt this good with him. Sex with him was easy and he was a generous lover. The only man that had ever made you cum. When pulls away he frowns when he sees the deep red scar close to your heart.

“Someone stabbed me but as you can see I am alive and well. Don't worry about it, We all have our own scars.” Your thumb slides across the one next to his temple and he nods – he is angry at himself though. Maybe if he was with you it wouldn't happen. Maybe if he'd try to look for you harder. Maybe…”Hey, Joel. You still with me?” You stroke his bicep and he nods before you peck him gently. “Strip out of these, will you? Want to suck your dick.” You pat his jeans-clad thigh and his jaw rocks forward. You sit on the bed and he makes quick work of his jeans and his boxer – his cock is bobbing with need and you open your mouth awaiting.

The first lick sends him into overdrive and he grips your hair and tries telling you to take him deeper – just a little bit deeper. You drool and the spit starts to cover his balls – it's messy and the sounds he makes sound like straight up from porn. His head is thrown back and he gets lost in the feel of you – your mouth – and he can't believe you are here with him. He feels his balls pull up tighter and he pulls it out quickly before he is bending down to kiss you – he doesn't register the surprised sound you make when he pushes his tongue almost all the way back down your throat.

You taste like him because you are his, his, his and the growing need he has for you makes him almost rip your new pants before he is working his fingers inside of you – the familiar wetness and tightness make him feel like he is 30 again – and you cry out. He drills into you and snarls when your nails dig into his forearm, his nose bumps against yours and he wants to kiss you but he concentrates on making you cum because he wants to be inside of you. To mark you as his. His to kiss and hiss to make you cum and his to love and his, his, his. He searches for that spot and his other hand sneaks onto your inner thigh – when he finds it – he can hear it from the high-pitched moan that you let out. He smacks you onto your inner thigh and you jump forward and try to get away from him. It's too much – his fingers, his groans and talks and his tongue that find its way into your mouth. He's too much and he can feel you are almost there – almost. He grabs your throat and his eyes watch your Adam's apple bob – his thumb putting slight pressure on it. The squelching sounds of your pussy make him double his efforts and he can feel you getting closer and closer with every pass of his fingers through your walls – your pleas echoing through the room. He knows you need more and he grins menacingly when he sees how your pussy glistens with your juices and soak his hand.

“Fuck, sweetheart look at you. Soaking me. You want to cum?” He knows you do and he is downright cruel when he slows down and you sob because you want to cum – you nod and he is not happy with that – swatting you against your inner thigh once again before repeating that question.

“Yes, yes, Joel! I want to cum, please make me cum!” You feel on a verge of tears and he kisses you softly before he continues his previous efforts – his thumb now circling your clit and it's the additional stimulation you needed. He curses when he feels you squeeing him and he works you through it – your vision goes white and all you can think about is Joel and how good he is – before you come back down and he is still working his way inside of you and suddenly its too much – you try to push him away but the hand on your thigh just grips you harder – the blunt nails of his digging into your thigh.

“Please, Joel, Too much, it's too much!” You cry out but it's like he can't hear you and he bites your lower lip, his fingers never stopping and you can feel him pulling another orgasm out of you – you can feel him grin against your mouth and murmuring “that's it, such a good girl for me, sweetheart” before you are cuming again. Your legs shake and the moans you let out die down when he puts his coated fingers of your cum in your mouth. Your eyes roll to the back of your head – he is kissing you and then telling you to “share with him” and it's so fucking nasty – a string of saliva connecting you both before he is wiping his mouth. You are sedated and when he reaches for something in his bedside table you don't really care. The sound of foil tearing makes you open your eyes and you see how he pulls the condom on his dick before he is crawling to you.

“Come on, sweetheart. You gonna ride me.” He says and you don't feel like you have that much of a choice – he is pulling you on top of him and before you know it he notches the head of his dick between your folds. You grab the base of him and slowly sink down on him – you forgot how fucking thick and big he was and you need a moment before you start moving. Your muscles are sore and your throat is dried up from all the moaning and screaming but when you look down to see Joel's blissed-out expression – you start to move slowly. He lets you ride him at your own pace – you are the one in control now and he's here only for the right. He strokes his thumbs o your sides and then opens his eyes he feels like he will come right there and then. Your tits bounce with every pass of his cock against your walls and the way your head is thrown back and your throat on full display – his fingers twitch as he has the urge to bring you by your throat and kiss you.

The leisurely pace only lasts for a while before you can feel another orgasm build inside of you – the hair on the base of his cock scratch your clit deliciously. You dig your nails into his shoulders – one of your hands grabbing his jaw when you kiss him – he lets you and his hands move from your hips to your ass – squeezing the flash in his palms. You moan when you feel one of his hands sneak toward your clit but you push him away – breaking from the kiss.

“I am the one that is now in control, Texas.” The smirk you give him makes his cock twitch and he nods – his Adam's apple bobbing when he gulps and you til his chin up as you sink your teeth gently into it. He holds onto you tighter – your pace unfaltering and he wants to cum – needs to – but not before you. His heels dig into the mattress and you pull back to stop moving as your hips start to sway in a figure of eight. It does nothing for him and he whines – whines – in protest. You tell him to “shut up” because you are so so fucking close and that's when he grits his teeth together – his patience runs thin. His hands grab the chain with his ring on it – the only thing you are wearing – and he pulls you towards him by it. The look you throw him is absolutely wrecked and when you are close to his mouth – you need to kiss him, want to taste him – he pulls his head away from you to put the ring between his teeth. That alone almost makes you cum and you can't look away from him – even when he grabs you by the flash of your ass – and start sinking you down on him. You are completely mesmerized by the ring in his mouth and before you know it you are cuming – he slaps your ass when you do and you jolt forward – the ring falling from his mouth when he tangles his tongue with yours.

He fucks you through it and he sits up – his heels planting into the mattress so he can chase his own orgasm – he puts the ring into your mouth now and if he could he would take a picture of you like this – his ring between your teeth while he fucks you silly and your gorgeous body putty in his hands. His balls slap against the meat of your thighs and he puts his forehead on your chest – you can feel the small droplets of his sweat roll down his forehead. He pants and you know he is close – his pace now frantic as he kisses your chest. His lips make their way to your throat and every pass of his cock makes your walls twitch. You feel every vein of his and the head of him pushes against your g-spot. You start meeting his thrusts – pulling him closer to your neck as the only thing he can now do is groan and whine. He can feel your quick pulse and the way your fingers tangle in his locks as you tug him by it – you are overstimulated but he doesn't want this to stop. Never wants this to stop.

“Come on, baby. Want you to cum in me,” You whine and he shakes his head – he doesn’t want to, he doesn't, he doesn't…and then he is cumming as he empties his seed into the condom. He thrusts up at you a few times as he pushes himself through the afer shocks – you can feel him twitch in you before his body goes limp and you fall on him. He strokes your shoulder blades and you listen to his slowing heartbeat – your fingers drawing little hearts on his chest. He slowly pulls out of you and grips the condom by the base of it to tie it off and he throws it into the trash can next to his bed. He pulls you closer to him and you hum – slowly drifting off to sleep exhausted and worn out.

“Love you, Joel.” You say against his neck when you kiss him there and his heart swells up at your confession. He unclasps the chain from your neck and pulls the ring on your finger as he admires it.

“Love you too, baby.” You almost don't hear him when he whispers it against your lips – but you don't need him to say it – after all Joel is a man of actions and not words. And you are perfectly fine with that.

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bobfloydsbabe · 5 months ago

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arranged marriage au | rhett abbott x oc | sneak peek

Author's Note: This story it set at the turn of the 20th century, somewhere around 1899-1901. I haven't quite decided yet, but it's important context for this story. Women did not have a lot of autonomy at this time, which is reflected in Rhett and Lou's conversation in this sneak peek. Is the timeline right in a historical context? Probably not, but it's fiction, so I can do what I want. Enjoy!

Release Date: Unclear

“Louisa.”

“What?” Her face is all hard lines and thundering eyes. Something twists inside him at the sight of her ire.

“I don’t want to own you,” he says and steps closer, dirt crunching under his worn boots. “Your life is your own, even after we marry.”

She shakes her head, tears pooling in her dark eyes, making his chest feel tight. He yearns to move even closer, wrap his arms around her, and assure her that he doesn’t mean her any harm. Despite not having a choice, he wants to marry her. He wants to build a life and have a family with her.

He’s halfway in love with her already. He hopes one day she’ll love him too.

“You say that now,” she says, tears in her voice as she speaks. “But then I’ll argue or refuse to listen, and you’ll remind me you’re the man and you get the final say. You may not want to, but you will own me.”

Now he shakes his head, disbelief coursing through his veins. It’s the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard, and he hates that she thinks that way about him.

“Louisa,” he breathes, her name like a prayer on his lips as he closes the distance between them. “You belong to you. Not your father or to me or to anyone, and I’ll do what I can to prove it to you.”

She meets his gaze, bottom lip wobbling as she tries to hold back sobs. “You swear?”

He nods, lifts his hands and tentatively cups her cheeks. “I swear.”

Tension hangs heavy in the air between them, and without thinking, Rhett bends his head down towards hers. His heart thunders in his chest as their breaths mix, and heat blooms under his palms as Louisa’s cheeks grow red.

Their lips are a hair’s breadth from touching when a horse neighs, making her pull back and Rhett’s hands fall back at his side.

“I should get you home.”

He offers the crook of his arm, and she weaves her hand into it, letting him lead her to their horses. Their boots drag across the dirt, and Rhett helps her up on Sally, the reddish brown mare that belongs to his almost wife.

He settles on Blazer, and they begin the ride back to the Kinney Ranch.

“Rhett?”

If her scent didn’t linger, he might’ve forgotten she was even there. He looks to his right and finds her watching him, maybe even with a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“The house is lovely,” she tells him, tone shy and withdrawn for the first time since he’s known her.

likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @bobgasm, @attapullman, @cherrycola27, @bradshawsbaby, @kmc1989, @keyrani

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott x oc #outer range #outer range fic #helena writes #writtenbyme #mywriting #arranged marriage au #historical romance au #oc: lou kinney #otp: rhett x lou #lewis pullman

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weird-an · 9 months ago

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Of course Prince Harrington is just another brat. Brought up spoiled rotten and without ever touching the dirt and blood the real world outside of palaces and lush gardens has to offer.

"I don't know why my father thinks you have to protect me," he bitches. "And can we call it a fucking day? It's already pretty dark and we'll reach Hawkins tomorrow."

Billy rolls his eyes. As if the Prince is able to fight what lurks behind the trees. He has probably never seen a spider monster or Demodog. Billy has the scars to prove that reality hurts.

It's not his usual work. Escorting royalty.

Billy is a mercenary. A sword you can buy, a tool to use if you've got enough coin. He knows most people hate him or are scared of him, most people think of him as scum except when they need him.

But apparently a lot of the Kingsguard were killed by the Demogorgon. Desperate times, even for rich people, but at least the pay is good.

"C'mon, it's time for dinner," Harrington says again. It's a luxury to have regular meals, but he doesn't know that. For him it's normal.

Camaro neighs as if to agree. What a traitor.

Billy wishes he'd already have enough coin to leave for California, to finally see the ocean again. But no, he's still stuck in Indiana doing whatever contract he can find, after Neil fucked him over and took most of his money.

Camaro stops at a clearing. Billy hears water running nearby. He sighs. If his horse agrees with the Prince, it's probably time to stop.

He slips Camaro half of the carrot, the last piece of food he has on himself. He's getting paid once they arrive in Hawkins. Times are tough, so Camaro and him eat the same shit. Doesn't matter as long as he gets to leave some day.

He starts to make a fire. Doesn't want Harrington to moan about getting cold next.

When the flames begin to shine bright and orange, eating their way through the wood, the darkness of the night is already surrounding them.

Harrington points at the log of wood he's sitting on.

Billy chews on the carrot and stares at the Prince.

"Do you want some cheese?" Harrington asks. He digs through his bag, pulling out different cheeses, a loaf of bread and a few dried meats.

The few noblemen Billy escorted in the past never asked. Never shared. Didn't even talk to him, if it wasn't necessary.

Billy raises a brow. Maybe this is a joke? Like when he was little and Neil showed him his dinner and fed it to the pigs instead to Billy.

"It's r'ly g'd," Harrington says, cheeks already stuffed full. He holds out a piece of bread.

Billy's stomach growls. Fuck it. He takes the bread and sits down next to Harrington. He's wearing expensive fabrics underneath his masterfully crafted coat. Billy's own armor is covered in scratches and dents.

He groans. The bread is delicious. Harrington shares everything with him. The cheese is strong, melting on his tongue. He hasn't realized how hungry he had been.

"Thanks," he mumbles.

"I don't know how you do it," Harrington says. "The whole day on horseback. My ass is so sore! What about yours?"

Billy fights back a laugh. The last time his ass hurt was after a visit to Heather's brothel. She knows his preferences and stayed silent, sending her hottest men to his room whenever he's in town.

"You get used to it." It's not really a lie. The riding Billy got used to. The loneliness? Not really. He's glad he's got Camaro. Better a horse as a friend than none.

"A toast to your firm ass then." Harrington grins at him, eyes twinkling. He hands Billy a wineskin.

He's pretty, Billy thinks. Big brown eyes, fluffy hair. He wonders if it feels as soft as it looks. Probably, with the fancy soap he smells like.

"Cheers." He takes a sip from the wine. It's better not to think about it. This is just a job after all.

Harrington's knee bumps against his. He doesn't move away.

When they lay down on the bedrolls, Billy listens to the cackling fire and watches the stars shining bright above him.

"I'm cold," Harrington groans.

Billy knows he shouldn't. No fucking way the Prince is cold. His blanket must be way better material than Billy's.

"Come over then," he hears himself say.

Harrington doesn't hesitate. Suddenly warm arms are around Billy's chest. The Prince's breath ghosts over his ear.

Billy turns his face around. Harrington's lips are right there, soft and hot against his own.

Maybe it's not the worst job he has ever taken.

#come on guys #prince harrington #i mean #they both know their way around a sword #camaro the horse can you see it #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy #tw food issues #tw child abuse

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cameronspecial · 9 months ago

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Assisting In Deception (Part 8)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Sexual Jokes and Unprotected Sex

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: Ward's suggestion to Rafe makes him realize that he wants more with Y/N, but maybe she doesn't think the same.

Masterlist

Dax tries to run toward another dog, which causes Y/N to overextend her hand so he doesn’t choke on his collar. “Dax, heel,” Rafe orders, pointing a disapproving finger at the dog. Dax instantly obeys his father, pausing so she can catch up. He turns towards her and begs for her petting. His pants fill the air in delight. “I’m pretty sure he likes you more than he likes me. It’s not fair,” Rafe objects, wrapping his arms around her waist. “He’s taking all your attention. I want it all.” Y/N leans back into his touch. She presses her lips to his cheek, “I’ll tell you a secret, I like him more than you. But only a little bit. You’re lucky you are so good with your tongue, it moves you up the list higher.”

“Oh, is that really all I’m good at?”

“No, you’re also pretty good at guessing what I want to eat. So good at that.”

“Well, I’m glad I can satisfy both your hungers.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Dax’s impatience pulls the couple away from each other and the walk continues. After a few minutes of walking, Rafe stops at a bench to sit down. “I have something for you,” he announces, pulling something out of his pocket. It’s a small slim box that she knows is a jewelry box. Guilt fills her because whatever is in that box is going to be extravagant and expensive and all she’ll ever be able to offer him is a four-dollar pizza slice. She starts shaking her head, “Boss, whatever that is. I can’t accept it.” “Nonsense, I got it for you. I thought you’d like it,” he insists, waiting for her to open the box. After a small argument about her not being able to take the gift and him saying she can, she finally does. In it lays a teardrop-shaped necklace with a diamond at the bottom of it. It’s simple and not too flashy, so it’s perfect for her. “I love it, Boss,” she turns to him to give him a hug. His lips find her temple, “Perfect. I’m glad you do. Just a little thank you for keeping up with my annoying ass.”

“You’re not that annoying. I promise.”

He laughs at her joke, motioning for her to turn so he can help her put it on. The necklace rounds her neck and lays beautifully between her collarbone.

——

Rafe and Y/N sit on the couch comfortably. His arm is wrapped around her shoulder and she playing with the rings on his fingers. The ginger and cloves waft through the kitchen and into the living room. The smell brings hunger to her stomach. “Aunt Y/N’s boyfriend, can you play horsey with me?” Amber begs Rafe with the biggest puppy dog eyes. He looks at Y/N to ask if she is okay with that and she gives a slight nod. Rafe gets up from the couch, “Of course, I can little cowgirl.” Amber’s smile lights up the room, tugging him to the middle of the living room. He gets onto all fours and lets the girl get on his back.

Y/N watches Rafe pretend to be a horse with fake neighs and all. “Amber, come on, sweetie. It’s time for dinner. Nana made the chicken you like,” George tells her. The little girl gets off of his back and thanks him for playing with her before running off into the kitchen with her father. Upon hearing that dinner is ready, Y/N gets up to go eat but is stopped by Rafe, who is getting up from the floor. “I’ll get our food. Don’t worry about it,” he promises, going to the kitchen to do as he said he would.

Nancy is already in line waiting for food when he enters the kitchen. She takes note of him being alone and double takes, “I’m surprised my sister isn’t trailing behind you like puppy dog towards the food. She loves Nana’s cooking.” “I told her I’d get her food. She looked comfortable on the couch. So what are the must-haves that I need to get for your sister?” he asks looking at the wide range of food Nate’s mother made for the family gathering. Nancy looks at everything, pointing at a few dishes, “She’d get the shepherd's pie, smoked salmon and the honey-glazed carrot and parsnips.” Rafe nods scooping up everything she told him to. “And I’ll get a little bit of everything else for myself in case Y/N wants to have a little bit of something else,” he thinks out loud.

“Wow, Aunty Y/N. Your necklace is really pwetty,” Felicity awes from Y/N’s lap, playing with the necklace. Y/N smiles down at her niece, “Thank you, baby. Rafe gave it to me.” “You are lucky to have such a good boyfwiend. My boyfwiend only gives me leaves,” the toddler pouts. Her aunt giggles at her words, “You’re a little young for a boyfriend, don’t you think? And, plus, your boyfriend doesn’t have the money to pay for big gifts, baby.” The girl makes a face of understanding and she lights up when she sees Rafe enter the living room.

He smiles at the scene in front of him, “For my Butterfly, an amazing feast of her grandmother’s cooking.” He hands the plate to Y/N and settles back beside her on the couch to eat his own food. Felicity eyes his plate with much interest. He goes to put some boxty into his mouth when her tiny hand grabs his hand and brings his fork near her mouth. She waits for his approval and then places the utensil completely into her mouth. As he takes turns with Felicity eating the food from his plate, he feels like he fits in with her family. Delilah enters the living room looking for her daughter and is surprised to see her eating already. “There you are, Feli,” Delilah states, heading over to Felicity. “I can’t believe you are actually eating. Normally, it takes forever to get you to eat something.” She looks up at her mother, “Wafey is feeding me, Mommy. He is nice. I like him. He is a good boyfwiend to Aunty Y/N.”

She raises her arms for her mother to pick her up, which she does. “He is very nice, Feli. But next time, maybe don’t eat someone else’s food,” she turns towards Rafe. “Thank you for feeding her. I’m sorry she ate your food.” He gives her a kind smile, “You’re welcome. And it’s okay. I’m more than glad to share my food if it helps you out with getting her fed. There is lots of food anyways.” “Right. Thanks again. Maybe it can be practice for when you and Y/N/N have a kid,” she teases, walking away to the dining room. Rafe’s cheeks turn red and Y/N’s hand flies to her hair at the mention of them having children. “I’m going to use the bathroom,” she informs him. He watches as she walks off and Phoebe takes her daughter’s place on the couch.

“It’s nice to see that you are fitting right in with the Campbell clan,” she notes, looking at him with a grin. He turns toward her with adoration in his eyes, “Yeah, everyone here is so great.”

“They are. I was so nervous about them meeting Y/N and me when I first started dating Nate, but they welcomed us with open arms and that’s how I knew I was dating the right man. I gotta say, I’m glad Y/N has you. She grew up thinking that love wasn’t real because of what happened between her biological dad and me. I always tried to tell her that love can be messy but also amazing, but she never listened. Seeing her with you though. It gives me hope that she finally realized that.”

Nancy’s calls cut their conversation short. Rafe sits back on the couch and thinks about what Phoebe said. He knew that she hadn’t been in any relationship since she started working for him; however, he always assumed it was because of her busy work schedule. He doesn’t know she doesn’t have faith in love. The failure of her biological parents’ love is the reason for her not being able to commit to someone else. He wonders if their fake relationship could really cause her to change her mind. He wonders if they ever got into a real relationship, could he make her see how wonderful being in love is.

——

Ward and Rafe try to have at least a monthly meal together just the two of them. It started when Rafe’s sisters were born so that Ward could make sure that Rafe still knew how much he loved him even though his time had to be spent looking after the new babies. The tradition lives on to this day. “You and Y/N seem to be going on steady. It’s been what? Ten months now,” Ward comments, pouring them both a glass of whiskey. Rafe nods, “Yeah, it’s going great. We spend most of our nights at each other's houses.” “That’s good. I’m glad you are happy with her. Even more glad that it is good for the business,” Ward pauses. “Have you ever thought about proposing?”

The whiskey in Rafe’s throat exits his mouth with a cough. He brings a hand to wipe the liquid dripping down his chin. “N-n-no. It’s a little too soon for marriage. Don’t you think?” he stutters with wide eyes. Ward lets out a little chuckle, “Maybe, but I see how you look at her. I’ve seen the pictures. You guys are meant to be.”

The words Ward just said really do hit home for Rafe. He knew what his dad was referring to and he knew that he had completely fallen head over heels for Y/N Y/L/N. He just isn’t sure how to tell her. The way her hands need to fidget with her hair when she is flustered or nervous. How she gets very excited about food. Her love for her family and Dax. It all made her completely irresistible to him and he wishes what they have wasn’t all just an act.

——

The thought of marrying Y/N has Rafe stirred up and he needs to see her right away. She hears the need in his voice over the phone, promising to come as fast as possible. He waits for her in his room with his unbuttoned. The sound of her heels on his hardwood floor and the smell of her strawberry shampoo excites him to no end. His already hard cock aches to be within her touch. A female figure appears in the doorway and he smirks at the sight. “Hey there, Boss. I hear you need some assistance with something,” she says in a sultry tone. He loves this roleplay even if it is literally just using their job titles in a sexual way. His look is filled with passion, “I do. I have a lot of work for you, Ms. Y/L/N. You’ll probably have to work overtime.”

She steps out of the shadows and he drinks in her outfit. Her tiny pencil skirt barely covers the lace of her blue panties. She knows he loves this blue set because he is obsessed with the idea of her wearing clothes that compliment his eyes. Her white button-up shirt doesn’t hide the matching bra and based on how oversized it is, he knows the shirt is one he left at her house. “I’m prepared to do whatever you need, sir. I am here to please you,” she whispers, crawling towards him on the bed so that her cherry-red lips press against the shell of his ear. Her lips move to his and her hand finds its way down to his bulge.

She starts to palm his dick, slipping her tongue into his mouth. Soon, their lips part and she kisses her way down to his v-line. Her breath hitting his skin down there causes goose bumps to make their way up his arms. She unbuckles his belt and pulls down the clothes blocking her from the one thing she needs most right now. Her tongue draws a line to the base of his shaft, so she can kiss her way up it to his tip. Her lipstick stains his penis and he wants to capture this moment forever. She places a tiny kiss on the tip, where precum is already seeping out, before taking him entirely in her mouth. He bucks his hips into her and she begins to gag on him. The sounds she makes cause him to groan. The air in her lungs needs to be refilled, so she draws back for a second. A line of saliva connects the bottom of her lip to his tip and this arouses her.

She uses one hand to pump whatever her mouth can’t fit comfortably and her other hand tries to make its way down to her burning core, but his hand slaps it away. “Your job is to work for me. Not yourself,” he tuts, locking his hand around hers so it couldn’t go back. She speeds up her movement on his cock and its twitch lets her know he is about to cum. The bobs of her head don’t stop. His head throws back against his pillow as he cums into her mouth. She swallows all of it, using her thumb to wipe the bottom of her lip to get rid of the escaped semen. He smiles down at him and brings her up by her chin. “I think it’s time to give you your bonus, Ms. Y/L/N,” he mutters in her ear. His hands find their way to her hips, pulling her so her pussy is hovering over his face. She hesitates about letting her full weight fall on him, but he puts no thought into pushing her hips down so she can feel his breath on her vagina.

His hand moves her underwear out of the way so he can attack her clit. The sudden feeling of his lips on her causes her to grip his headboard as support. Her breathy gasps make his dick raise to attention again. His tongue licks up her juices and enters her hole. He tries to eat up as much of her sweet taste as he can prior to sticking a previously wetten finger into her puffed pussy. They reconfigure their position so she is sitting against the headboard to make it easier for him to finger her. She moans out in pleasure as another finger finds its way into her. He curls his finger for him to find her sweet spot. “More. Please, Boss,” she whines with her eyes rolled to the back of her skull. His assault with his fingers continues until her climax falls over her. He works her through it with whispers of being a good girl when she notices he is hard again.

Rafe is going to take care of it himself when she stops him. She gives his shaft a couple of pumps, bringing his dick to her clothed vagina. He looks at her unsure, letting the game drop for a second, “Are you sure about this? I can take care of myself. We don’t have to do this.” The moment definitely overcomes her and she isn’t thinking straight, but she needs this. She wants to know what he feels like. She wants to pretend like this moment is real. That they are just a loving couple about to make love. She brings his lips to hers. “I want this, I promise. I’m clean and haven’t had sex with anyone unprotected for a year. Plus, I’m on the pill. But if you want to use a condom or don’t want this, then I completely understand.”

He shakes his head, “I need this too. I’m clean too, by the way.” His tone is so nervous that she finds it adorable. With the confirmation that they both want this, Rafe removes her skirt and underwear. He takes off his shirt and then rips the shirt that she is wearing open. The buttons pop off, flying everywhere. Her bra is the next one to come off.

His dick slaps her pussy a few times, in anticipation of him entering her. He penetrates her and her back arches in satisfaction. The ache he causes quickly fades away. Normally, both of them would enjoy a rougher and faster pace with their foreplay, but it doesn’t feel right to them at this moment. “You are doing so well, Butterfly,” he praises. His thrusts a slow and controlled, hitting every right spot inside of her. The kiss they share is one laced with longing for each other and quiet moans from both of them. His hand plays with her nipples for a little bit before going to rub her clitoris. The fast motion of his hand paired with his deep and steady force brings her close to the edge. He notices how her walls begin to grip his cock and he speeds up his movements just a little bit.

He breaks their kiss to whisper, “Cum for me. Show me how good I am making you feel.” Her moans increase and she wraps her legs around his waist to help her meet his hips. “You feel so good, Boss. Keep going, p-p-please,” she pleads. He obeys her please and doesn’t stop. He feels his release about to come, “I’m gonna cum. Where do you want it, Butterfly?” She brings him deeper into her with her legs, “Inside of me, please.” Their lips find their way together again while they both cum. She feels thick ropes of his semen shoot into her, warming her insides. They pant into each other’s faces for them to gain a little more energy.

He slips out of her and they go through their normal aftercare and bedtime routine. Once they finish, they return to his bed, wrapping themselves in an embrace. “How are you feeling?” he questions, giving her a kiss to the temple. She gives him a tired smile, “I feel great, thank you. It was amazing. How about you?”

“I think I can just about do anything. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

She nuzzles her neck into his neck. The deep call of sleep lulls them both to a state of unconsciousness.

——

This isn’t the first time that Y/N wakes up wrapped in Rafe’s arms, but it is the first that she does so after they have sex. Looking at his peaceful figure usually fills her with delight, yet, this time, she feels a problem start to arise. The sex was mind-blowing. No doubt about it; however, she crossed the line she promised herself she wouldn’t. The sex also felt so real to her and that is dangerous. She starts to realize she can’t tell what is genuine or just for show anymore. She worries that when he finally realizes he doesn’t want her anymore, he will throw her away with her heart ripped out of her chest.

Her shields throw themselves back up again and she quietly removes herself from his hold. She puts her skirt and undergarment back on but finds the shirt she wore here destroyed. His closet calls to her and she fishes out a white t-shirt to put on. She is engulfed in his scent, which she can’t enjoy any longer without feeling guilty for what she is about to do.

She slips the shirt on and then gets her purse to leave. As she makes her way to the front door, Dax excitedly runs up to her for her attention. She gives him an apologetic smile and kisses him on the head, “I am so sorry, baby. I have to go. But you are such a good boy. I love you even when I am gone.” Tears escape her eyes as she leaves his house for the last time.

——

A guilt-ridden walk home and shower later, Y/N sits at the coffee shop table, drinking her coffee. She can’t believe she is actually considering getting a new job, but it was always the plan anyway. Being a personal assistant was only supposed to be a placeholder to give her time to figure out what she truly wanted to do. Her cup runs empty, so she gets up from her chair to get a refill. She isn’t watching where she is going, which causes her to smack into someone behind her. Hot liquid stains his shirt because of her accident. “I am so sorry. Let me get you another coffee and my number so you can text me the dry cleaning bill,” she apologizes profusely to the brunet. His chocolate brown eyes find her, “Don’t worry about it, seriously. I hate this shirt. But I wouldn’t mind getting that number so that I can text you the location of our first date.” He gives her a charming smile with the tilt of his head and she lets out a giggle.

“That’s bold. Don’t you think you should get my name first?”

“True. I’m Henry and what might I call you?”

“I’m Y/N and I would love to go on a date with you.”

They shake hands. She feels incredibly wrong about going on a date with Henry when Rafe is still in the equation, but she needs something that is real and Rafe doesn’t want that with her. Little does she know that is entirely not true.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @aprilrudgate @loving-and-dreaming @thepatriarchykeychain @maybankslover @abbybarnesstuff @wh0reforbucknasty @spencereidbasis @drewsmusee @starkowswife @mskezza @h34rtsformilli @ijustwanttoreadlols @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you

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lullaebies · 3 months ago

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Hi! It's been awhile since we last spoke but I hope you're doing well ❤ I noticed your post about writing prompts and I was wondering if you'd be interested in a little helaegon family fluff project? ^_^ I've been making art about the Green siblings flying with their dragons and currently working on Aeggy&Sunny but I'd also love to make a close up for both Helaena and Aegon. So I thought I'd ask if you'd like to write a little fluffy story about then taking the kids on a day trip. Maybe it's Maelor's 1st flight. Bonus cute points if Jae&Jae also have their baby dragons with them. I just need to imagine them being happy, even if it's just for one day. Maybe we could inspire each other? :) ❤

a/n: my bestie <3 yes it has been too long since we last spoke! but absolutely, you know i love family fluff. I decided to go for a Maelor first flight/first interactions with his family's dragons - this would probably count as an au because he would be a little bit older than canon (i'd imagine 5!). It ended up from his pov too, but all riders get a bit of interaction with their dragons, so I hope it works well <3

The wheelhouse rides up Visenya’s hill, bouncing to the gravel of the road.

Maelor sits in between his siblings, holding their hands. Jaehaera squeezes at his hand every time a harsh jut takes place, while Jaehaerys gives out a yip at each bounce, giggling softly shortly after. The horses outside neigh loudly, and Maelor kicks his feet to their gait.

“When there?” the boy asks their parents, who were sitting in front of him. Maelor’s mother, Helaena, sighs softly, a breezy chuckle to her voice, while his father’s face contorts to a wide, exaggerated smile, with his eyebrows nearly reaching the sky.

“I’d answer, but you hadn’t sufficed with my answer the ten times before, twerp,” Aegon says. “I don’t think you will this time either.”

Maelor blinks at his father. And at his mother, when she slaps father’s shoulder, asking him to not be all that snarky. Maelor doesn’t care all that much; all he could think of is the dragons he is going to meet. They could fly as as high as papa’s eyebrows!

His mother had made many embroideries with dragons for him to hold. He has one on his blanket, and one on the banner of his wall. He brushed his fingers against the needlework often. He had gotten a glimpse of only one dragon in his life, his uncle’s one. Big, burly Vhagar, who was big enough to see from his window; father calls her a flying mountain.

But then again, Jaehaerys says Shrykos is the size of a dog, and mother says Dreamfyre is the color of lavender flowers. Father says he named Sunfyre for the sun, and Jaehaera says “Morghul is Morghul,” without much explanation given.

And Maelor? He has his little egg, in that container that warms the underneath of his bed. What would it look like? He wonders. They say it could hatch soon. Mama had told him it is Shrykos’s egg, it would likely look like her. And papa says Shrykos is Sunfyre’s and Dreamfyre’s, and in that case, “he should get to know them all.”

He is jittery in his seat. He turns his gaze from his father and mother to his siblings looking between them for an answer. “When there?”

His parents snicker both, staring at them three.

“Eh…” Jaehaerys tries to estimate with some undecipherable count with his fingers, while Jaehaera’s gaze flicks to the window.

“Now,” his sister says, coming up from her seat even before the wheelhouse stopped fully. She squeezes his hand, tugging at it at the same time for him to rise. Jaehaerys jumps to stand before him, and Maelor rushes to do the same. His feet rattle the wheelhouse with little jumps in his place, waiting for the door to open.

“Maelor, you will trip, sweet,” His mother warns, lighthearted in tone.

“Ser Rickard,” his father raises his voice in a merry timbre and looks out of the window. “Release my dragons before they chew the damn door!”

Ser Rickard does. Maelor’s siblings hum chipperly and jump to the ground without waiting for assistance, holding his hands all the while. His mother squeaks to stand as his legs hit the ground.

“Haera, Rys, be careful!” Helaena says. “Maelor, all is well?” She worries for a moment, while Maelor looks at the big, big building he sees in front of him. A dome of sorts, with big, walls and doors of dark stone. The rumble underneath it, underneath his feet, feels almost alive.

It springs Maelor’s feet into life, skipping ahead. “Let’s go mama!!”

His siblings follow, as do his parents, as do his guards, all flying in.

—

Maelor makes rounds around the head dragonkeeper as they wait for the dragons to be let out. He doesn’t quite understand whatever the man is saying, except a few words here and there that he heard his family saying lots. He knows Jaehaera is counting his spins in High Valyrian, he knows numbers, from one to two and ten, to be exact, but the older dragonkeeper’s words are fancy, with rolling sounds that sound draconic.

He tries to copy the rolling ‘r’ to little avail, but that doesn’t stop him from trying right up to the point he hears a familiar name coming from the man’s mouth. Morghul. His sister perks up, coming forward. From the depths of the pit, a first dragon comes forward, charcoal black scales that seem to resent light upon them. Maelor steps back when he notices his dark horns, keeping by his mother’s skirt.

Up close, a dragon looks unreal to him. Uncle’s flying mountain is big dot in the sky, and mother’s embroideries remind him of her harmless bugs. He hasn’t expected Morghul to be so… scary?

Morghul is Morghul, and his gaze is as piercing as his sister’s when she’s angry. The rest of his family are very calm as his sister's fingers brush against the dragon’s sharp teeth. “The hellspawn grew bigger quickly, huh,” his father notes. Hell?

His mother hums. “He may be able to be saddled soon,” she says, running her fingers through Maelor’s light curls.

“Dont remind me,” Aegon says, fiddling with his fingers. “She’ll forget I exist then,” he looks down to Maelor, who was watching them both. He reaches to ruffle his hair. “Like you are starting to even without one, little twerp.”

Maelor scrunches his nose and shakes his head, moving to embrace his father’s leg. “Not true!”

His father hums, letting him hang off of his leg. He slowly relaxes as when he smooshes his cheek against his father’s side.

Until a woosh of green sweeps through the room, and Maelor holds onto his father tight. A loud shriek is heard as the form breaks out with it from the dark of the pit, lunging at his brother. A dragon slightly smaller than Morghul topples Jaehaerys, a long green wingspan twinkling under the light.

A dragonkeeper rushes after and wipes his forehead as he sighs - the head dragonkeeper grunts and then dismisses himself to help the novices to bring the bigger dragons. Maelor looks towards his brother, his heart bouncing more than his feet now. The dragon looks like it is made of his grandmother’s jewels, but those can scratch you, too.

“Dohaeeeras!” Jaehaerys yells chipperly, rolling around with the dragon that tried to nuzzle his face. His giggles echo around the room. Maelor breathes in, as he understands the dragon is Shrykos. She does not remind of a dog, but of a rampant pony.

“Sunfyre’s hatchling through and through,” his mother comments to his father.

His father snickers. “The derangement is from your dragon.”

“Is it?” his mother asks with a smile, as a big, big dragon the color of lavender flowers is brought in. His mother steps forward and away from him, saying some words he can’t understand. Mama’s dragon? Dreamie, with her silver-glistening scales and pale blue eyes.

The dragon looks at his mother once, listening with a cocked head, and looks towards his brother and his dragon. Dreamfyre’s steps are loud on the ground, and she cranes her big head and opens her mouth to grab Shrykos by tail, pulling the younger dragon back gently.

Shrykos answers her with shrieks, resistance and threats of the short breaths of fire. Dreamfyre lets Shrykos go when she starts beating its wings, returning the threat of flame with a whistle of her own flame, just barely touching the green dragon. Shrykos seems to shriek towards Morghul for help, the black dragon coming to help the green. Mother chuckles, seeing Dreamfyre swatting the two with her head, and his siblings come beside her, copying their dragons and playing against their mother.

Maelor hides behind his father. His bones feel wobbly now.

And then one more dragon enters the room. The last one, father’s, golden like the one on father’s shirts. Aegon ruffles Maelor’s hair again and then moves to greet and pet the dragon. “Hello,” his father tells Sunfyre with a big smile.

And in the chaos of dragons and riders in the room, Maelor feels very small, very jittery, and even very lonely. Thick tears cloud his lash line. He wipes at his eyes. He needs to be brave. His parents and siblings thought he would be ready to meet their dragons, that he would be prepared to get his dragon.

“There is someone you should kn…” his father starts. He turns back towards Maelor when the boy wipes at his eyes, trying to make them disappear before he notices. “Son?”

The golden dragon looks at Maelor with his equally golden eyes. Maelor stays frozen when the dragon steps forward to him. He lowers his neck, and his big nostrils take a whiff of him. Maelor’s own nose is full of snot, he doesn’t even know what the dragon smells; some tears fall.

And then, Sunfyre brings his snout, and pokes at it lightly against his forehead, ruffling at Maelor’s curly, silver fringe. The dragon voice is rolling some guttural ‘grrr,’ more familiar to Maelor as similar to the calming purr of the Keep’s cats.

Maelor sniffs away his tears when his father crouches beside him. Patting his back lightly. “Don’t fret, he is used to crying twerps. I daresay he even likes them,” Aegon chuckles, glancing at his dragon. “Will you pat him? I think that will please him plenty.”

Maelor licks his small lips, and offers a shaky hand. It reaches the dragon’s chin, touching the gold of his scales. It doesn’t feel too different from touching his own egg; coarse and warm. He soon gains the courage to reach over with his other hand too, and Sunfyre nearly chirps.

Maelor giggles, a big smile drawn on his face. That laughter echoes in the room now, and his mother and siblings notice it too. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera played with their mother on the ground no better than their dragons in the air, but with one word from mother his siblings ran towards him.

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera rushed from under Sunfyre to reach him. Jaehaerys pats his head and showed him how he pats Sunfyre under his chin, and Jaehaera wipes his glassy eyes and kisses his eyebrows, saying “good” when his face is clean. Mother comes closer, and bends to kiss the top of his head, saying “well done.”

And his father — he looks around the room, seeing his siblings’ dragon batting their wings around Dreamfyre, as if in request — and turns to his mother. “We could take them for a ride, couldn’t we? There is time.”

His siblings perk up looking at their mother with bright pleas.

“I think so. We came all this way already, why not?” Helaena says with a grin, and looks at their children. “Would you like that?”

Jaehaera and Jaehaerys nod and squeal happily, babbling. Aegon looks at Maelor, almost stealing his snotty nose with his thumb and index.

“And you? Would you like to ride Sunfyre with me, twerp?”

And Maelor regains the giddiness in his legs, the glimmer of a gold dragon giving him back the glint in his eyes. He nods; with his family, with their dragons, he is ready to fly out.

#aegon ii targaryen #helaena targaryen #prince jaehaerys targaryen #jaehaera targaryen #maelor targaryen #sunfyre #dreamfyre #team green #shrykos #morghul #my fics #reqs #hotd fic #hotd #hotd imagine #heretherebebookdragons #answered #this was so cute to me i love writing maelor #: ' )

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gav-san · 1 year ago

Text

THE QUEEN OF THE KING 15/15

Previous / ...

It starts with Phantom’s warning neighs.

One moment you are asleep, wrapped in your white shift and Ganondorf's arms, and the next you are being flung over his shoulder as he twists to plant you in between his hot back and the freezing rock of the shrine. Even when you try to wriggle, to help, he won’t let you, defending you with his body, his golden sword in one hand.

You are very discombobulated, but after a moment of gaining your bearings, you realize that you are not alone.

There are at least fifty people in black and red uniforms of a sort surrounding you, placed in circles, trapping you. They do not look particularly menacing, the tight clothing and tall hairdo are more funny than anything else.

If you knew you’d be having visitors, you would have dressed in more than a thin slip of silk last night. Though much else had seemed silly at the time, considering your, uh, activities, and how eager you had been.

One glance at Ganondorfs face makes you realize that he is making a face you have yet to see. It causes your stomach to drop in fear, but also a bevy of butterflies to erupt in a misplaced twist of lust. The way his skin sketches taught, the scrub of an unshaven beard shadowing the sharp jaw as it contorts is downright vicious.

“Molduga Pits.” He says, clearly a curse, but not one you are familiar with, sounding exasperated and annoyed. “You bastards again .” You place a hand on his bare back, glancing at the people furtively. We’re these enemies of the Gerudo? Perhaps from an ally of Hylia? Maybe she could help.

You go to move forward, thinking that perhaps you can reason with them, but Ganondorfs stance is steel, not letting you move an inch out of his protection.

“Greetings, Emperor of Calamity,” Someone says, moving up front, from inside the crowd.

The number of men scared you, but this man was far too dramatic to be serious. You look around, trying to see Ganondorf’s horse, Phantom, but he is nowhere to be found. He probably rushed off, as a good desert horse was trained to do, you think wryly.

There go the quickest means of escape, and now you’d have to face the weird cult head-on.

The foremost ring parts, and a thick-bellied male in a ridiculous golden girdle step over the red suit steps forward, taking a deep bow. “I, my esteemed liege, am the third Master Koga-” He drawls, his voice surprisingly whiny for such a rotund man.

“I know who you are,” Ganondorf growls, rising to his full height and moving to better shield you, and you can’t help compare how intimidating his figure is, in comparison. “You think coming yourself will change my answer? Time and time again you Yiga have been told that the Gerudo do not hold to your foolish beliefs!”

Yiga? You thought that sounded familiar. You swear you knew it, but it was hard to concentrate when thick muscles were just centimeters from crushing your head in.

The Yiga’s footsteps pause, clearly considering a new plan. Or just watching you turn into a princess sandwich.

“Well,” The man begins again, voice less methodical but much darker. “We figured we needed a more direct conversation… since you’ve already found the dread witch who threatens your reign with her brainwashing,” There is a shift, and you realize, that there to hurt you.

You go white.

And the Yiga’s admission, Ganondorf’s entire demeanor changes from cautious hesitance to tense anger.

“Keep your filthy mouths away from my queen’s good name!” Ganondorf says, and you’re surprised to see him come to your defense so rapidly. “She has nothing to do with your nonsense, and neither will I!” You cling to him as if only to remember he is not mad at you but for you.

How long had it been since someone defended you half so passionately? Your heart beat like it was going to bounce out of your chest.

Master Koga, the third, or whoever he was sighed deeply, like he had expected this.

“ A shame, really. That we have to step in.” And then he had the gall to sound offended! “I can tell this vain creature has enraptured you with her magic, and she should be dealt with by us underlings!”

Ganondorf made a growling sound, deep in the back of his throat. “If you come even a step closer, or make any moves to hurt my wife, I swear I will hunt every last Yiga fool down and leave you in the sand for the Moldugas to feed their young on! ” That small growl became a roar as he finished, leaving you far more wary of the man before you. He had never once come close to forfeiting his calmness, but it seems the thought of losing you was more than enough to unleash his fury.

You can’t help but become warm at the sight of him roaring for you, his wife.

And, you think, you could spend the rest of your life listening to him say it.

But the Yiga, for all their talk about being subjects to their prospective king, had no wisdom in their loyalty, and they did not concede to his warnings. Instead, each and every last one of them turned to their weapons, from the glimpse you could see.

“We’d rather not fight our future king, but I can see we have no choice!” Koga said, moving from his pathetic position to unleash a wicked-looking, curved sword, one that indicated he was much more serious now. Gandorf copied his hand on the giant sword he had tucked at his hip, the other moving around your waist in an awkward, backward tango, as if he is going to jump over all the men. All the Yiga men grasp their weapons, nervously, like he is a giant water buffalo ready to charge them. But he doesn’t do so, instead, tucking something small into your waistband. He inches even closer, if possible, keeping his voice low.

“I love you.” He says, and you press into him, ready for whatever, “And I’m sorry I have put you in danger. I swear I will protect you with my life.”

You know he does. And you finally know that you do too. Probably since the first glimpse of him you had, he had taken your heart.

“I love you too.” You say, and he pauses like he is relishing it for the last time.

Then he raises his sword, pointing it at the men, pivoting to the shrine. Magic, you think, swells at his fingertips, and the same golden presence wraps around your bands of gold.

“I will find you again, my moon. ” He swears.

Your heart dropped, the words far too fatalistic for comfort. You furrow your brows, confused as you place a hand on his own before it retreats.

He gives a thin smile, though you only guess that, as he is still focused on the people before him, save for the intimate brush of a finger to loosen your grip. You think he must be ready to toss you over his shoulder or something.

But it seemed Ganondorf was risking no threat to you.

He immediately moves, and in one swift motion, you are pushed inside the shrine his magic has reopened. It’s as gentle as he can, but you still sprawl, as he moves so swiftly that you had no time to react. No time to disagree or do anything.

“Stop!” You lift out a hand, but he is too quick, moving to protect you, to leave you safe in the quiet, space, lit only but the eerily blue of the ever-glowing magic there.

You stumble to the ornate stone-clad floor, and can barely catch the moment that a giant stone slab seals over the entrance, cutting you off from the outside, as well as one another. You flail, running to the rock, pounding your fists.

But there was no handle, nor even a seam that you could attempt to pry. The rock face was so smooth it was as if one had never been chipped away. Magic, you think in a manic frenzy, trying to will yourself to pound it to dust.

There are no sounds of battle, nothing but the thud of your hands, which eventually stop, once they have turned bruised and bloody from your fallen endeavors. You sink to the ground, to your knees, fat, ugly tears pouring from your chin as you cry. They make your face itch, but you don’t wipe them away, instead letting them sink into the dust-less floor.

You aren’t sure how long that lasts, because, at some point, you fall asleep, only to wake in what seemed like moments later. You had not the ability to even forget a moment of your sorrow but were so drained, tired and your hands hurt so fiercely that you drug yourself to the cool edge of the pool.

It is unsurprising to see what a mess you are. Ganondorf had proudly braided your hair last night, proclaiming it to be an honor to do so, and it had held reasonably well, and you can comb it into place. But your face is drawn, with dark circles, and red eyes. Nearer to the lights, you can see that you have injured your hands, enough that not even the blister gel would work.

You slap away the image, that cold water engulfing your hand. The coolness engulfs it, bringing relief and peace. You think it’s probably hypothermia, but after a few moments, you realize that it’s not it, bringing your hand up to the surface, breaking the smooth surface again.

It’s healed.

You stare in astonishment at the flesh that has mended back together, blood and bruises completely gone.

Your other hand goes in right after and you give a huge sigh of alleviation.

It makes much more sense how you had not been sore the previous night, though your husband is quite big and very eager.

And that thought cuts short your wonder over the healing pool in the shrine, and back to your misery over your husband. Just what in Demise’s name was he thinking, sealing you away in here? Surely there was something you could have done! Even be a distraction! Your head pounds and you lean down, taking giant gulps of water, but misjudge in your haziness.

Slipping forward, you plunge entirely into the freezing pool.

-X-

You aren’t sure how long you stay underwater. You think you may be dead at some point, but the cold never abates. But you don’t end up finding the side. Instead, you’re pulled out, by a pair of very brawny, bronze arms. You think someone is carrying you. Sand whips by your face from a strong breeze.

At some point, bright sunlight hits your face, and you wince. It’s not long after that the sunlight drops, and the steps turn smoother. Then you’re finally placed down on what seems to be a bed. Voices fade in and out, some you think you may recognize.

Gerudo, you think.

Hands press against your chest, shoving forcefully in. You give a sharp gasp, coughing on nothing as they push again and again. And just when you think you’ll die, someone turns you, and you throw up.

You can process the voices better now, that air has gone back to your brain.

“We found her in the shrine outside of town-”

“In?”

“Yeah, the door opened and she was in a pool there!”

“The shrine water- It was still in her lungs!”

“In a shrine pool?”

“Yes, she has the seal of the King!”

It’s mostly water that comes out, but you can’t tell, with your head banging. But you can breathe again even if it hurts, and so you immediately fall asleep. Or unconscious.

But there are more hands now, pushing you to stay awake.

-X-

The heat in the desert is very reasonable, under the thick woven hanging. You look out to the sand, towards the distance where a large mountain range juts like a knife standing straight up. The glint of sand makes it difficult to look straight on, but the Gerudo mask does a good job of deflecting any lasting harm.

You try and stay out of the sun as much as possible. The Gerudo clothes do little to offer protection, as they have little need to do so, and are meant to be breezy and comfortable. And it is indeed breezy, wearing only thin silk with gold edging.

You think it shows off far too much of your chest and belly, but Queen Dramiria had insisted seeing you in traditional clothing was good for Gerudo's morale, with Ganondorf still missing. And since the regent queen was your mother-in-law, you couldn’t find it in your heart to refuse.

She was the one you had first met.

“You have been missing for a month.” She said within the first hour of your recovery. She had more or less been waiting there since you had been brought in, and subsequently, the seal Ganondorf had slipped to you had been recognized. “Of course, I knew right away, with that hair. My son wrote almost endlessly of your moon-like beauty.”

You hold that same seal now. You don’t think you could relinquish it if they asked, which surprisingly, they hadn’t.

You want to turn back to look at the sand, but you also want your mother-in-law to like you. You flush, throat too sore to say much, and not knowing what to say anyhow. Thankfully, others catch onto this quickly, especially Commander Urbosa.

“Time passes differently in the shrines,” Commander Urbosa says, arms crossed as she stares you down like a puzzle. “The magic is difficult to harness, and only the King knows how to handle it to a full extent. I suspect that’s why you ended up here. Even without air, the water continually heals, so it puts you in a stasis of sorts.”

The one thing you do manage to say is Ganondorf .

And the thing about the Gerudo is that they don’t sugarcoat the truth.

“Damn brat let himself be caught by the Yiga.” Queen Dramiria said sharply, making you draw back in alarm. But she merely pats you, crossing a long leg over the other as she leans back on her cushioned chair. “He’s never listened to reason, that boy.”

“Nabooru is already tracking them down, but they are tricky, hiding away in the mountains where we Gerudo have a hard time going. I am a bit surprised Ganondorf hasn’t just beaten a guard down and escaped.” Commander Urbosa stepped in, a bit kinder as she urged you to take a bite of the sweet-looking melon in a gold cup before you. You don’t want to eat, but tenderly you let yourself nibble the fruit.

“He knew that they had started using that ancient, dangerous magic and he let his guard down.” The queen retorted, moving to her fruit bowl to polish off the decadent treat.

You put your head down, eyes closed as tears pricked at them. A hand came to rest on your knee, and you look up at the Queen, who looks very distraught. She has the same hook to her nose as Ganondorf and the same shade of red hair, and it makes the tears come quicker.

“Be kind, my queen. You forget that our new Queen-consort has been through much as of late.” Commander Urbosa advises softly.

“Oh no, don’t take my words too seriously,” Dramiria said, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Ganondorf always comes back from his adventures. And I have no doubt he is eager to have his bride back in his arms again.” He ends with a smile, and you do your best to stop sobbing but it just makes it worse.

“F-Forgive me-” You say, turning back to the sand, shoulders sloped as you twisted the seal in your hands. “I… I would like some alone time, if p-p-possible.”

You don’t recognize yourself as you turn towards the bed in the healing room you had all been sitting in.

“Of course.” The Queen says, letting Urbosa help her up. “When you feel refreshed, just let the healer know. We’ll then give you a tour of your new rooms.”

You nod your head, shoulders shaking.

“Thank you, my queen, you are very generous.” She sighs, knowing she’s already told you to abandon such formal language but doesn’t press the matter. The thick red curtain swishes behind them as they leave, muffling their voices but not entirely concealing them.

“Ensure the Queen-Consort is settled into the King’s quarters swiftly. Knowing my son, he’d want her to feel comfortable as soon as possible. And I have a feeling that we’ll have a new little princess soon!”

You go red, head to toe.

What on earth would prompt that reaction?

Your toes curl, trying to escape back into your body.

“Queen Dramiria!” Urbosa chides, voices further away. “Don’t go making our queen-consort feeling uncomfortable.”

“I know my son, Urbosa. If he’s managed not to make a fool of himself, then I ensure that we’ll be having a royal baby. Though the princess is quite small, she seems very strong-hearted, enough to please the gods of the shrines. I approve!”

You wondered what part of crying made you ‘strong-hearted’ but you supposed you shouldn’t complain. With one last look out to the sand you crawl back to the safety of your woven bed, and its many warm blankets, all woven with bright colors. It seemed to be very Gerudo to be in bright colors, though they didn’t help a pale complexion much.

Not that many Hylians had the skin tone that compliments it, you thought, brows furrowing. Do you think that Zelda would look nice in the rich blue though-

You blinked.

“Zelda?” You said, and the face peaked over the window again. She said your name, very softly in return, and clearly, great relief.

She glanced around before your cousin soars into the room. This is quickly explained as you hear a quick ‘hyah’, followed by another familiar face, this time jettisoning himself in.

“Link?”

Zelda launches herself at you, pulling you into a tight hug that reminds you of choking again, and you have to peel her off.

“I’m SO sorry!” She cried in a soft voice, clearly heartbroken, “I can’t believe Father let that evil man take you!”

“Oh Zelda,” You say brows pulling together. “What are you doing here? Link would be in a great deal of trouble if he was found.”

“We’re here to save you!” She sniffs, holding you tighter. “I came as soon as I heard! I knew what everyone was saying was a lie!” You give a strained look, knowing that of course there were rumors, but irritated at them, nonetheless.

Link shrugs, giving a small look of sass before turning to a vase at the side of the room and looking at it.

You give a long sigh, and she pulls back.

“We are… aren’t we?” She looks into your face, gazing intently at your eyes, turning to glance at Link, who is intently staring at your hands. Her eyes fall to the crest in your hands as well.

“Married.” Link says, shortly, but meaningfully. He never did like expressing himself much with them.

You nod, softly.

“So…” Zelda pauses, throat thick, “You… left willingly.” You can see the hurt she has, the thought that you would so quickly leave without even giving her a goodbye.”

“It’s a long story.” You say quickly, “And I didn’t leave you willingly… But things have changed and I would not be welcomed back to Hyrule, even if you returned with me. But only if you’re willing to do a great favor for me.” You say, holding her arms.

Zelda nods, pulling your hands together as Link raises his brow.

“Yes, what is it?”

“I need help entering a cult.”

-X- To be continued -X-

#romance #gosh dangit rehydrated ganon thirst art #hot desert daddy ganon #rehydrated ganondorf #ganondorf x reader #ganondorf thirst #fanfic #botw x reader #totk ganondorf #theend????

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fandom-queen1450 · 9 months ago

Text

Smiling Critters Head canons

Because they've been living in my head rent free...

Since they're all animals I wondered if they make their animalistic sounds or not, and when would they do it if they did? So I think...

Bobby Bearhug: I think she would sound like a bear on accident, like when she's tired or just woke up she'd yawn and end up growling.

Dogday: Just genuinely acts like a dog. Throw a ball and he starts barking.

Kickin' Chicken: When someone scares him by jumping out of nowhere or when he's distracted. Instead of screaming he clucks like an actual chicken. I bet he doesn't like when that happens.

Hoppy Hopscotch: rabbits don't make a sound, so I'm just going to say that when she's upset, agitated or impatient her nose twitches.

Bubba Bubbaphant: Unlike the others he could control when and where he'd blow his trunk. I feel like when everyone is arguing or just making a lot of noise he'd blow his trunk to get their attention and/or shut them up entirely.

Crafty Corn: It's hard to say actually. Maybe when she sneezes she'd accidentally neigh, or, when she sighs heavily.

Picky Piggy: When she laughs uncontrollably she ends up snorting and I just think that'll be the funniest and cutest thing ever.

Catnap: He already acts like a cat, that one scene in the game where he pounces and takes poor Bunzo Bunny is enough proof of that 😭.

Just spray him with some water and he'd most likely hiss and glare at you. Oh, and when he wakes up he'd meow when he stretches.

Why is there no yellow? 😭

#poppy playtime game #poppy playtime #smiling critters #catnap #dogday #bobby bearhug #kickinchicken #hoppy hopscotch #bubba bubbaphant #picky piggy #craftycorn #not my art

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xcerizex · 2 months ago

Text

"inside the train is a lullaby to be sung"

We will always feel fear in the face of an unknown future, but this is exactly the reason why we hold on to those dear to us even tighter.

"A good meal, some dessert, and maybe some more of all of that; I hope these are enough to put you at ease, even if just for a moment."

(alpheratz, alpheratz x summoner, fem! summoner, fluff I think, 1.9k words, mild spoilers for Floor 11, the bg setting is that one train bg they used once and then never again, magic stuff idk exists but now it does)

It's quiet and peaceful, as always.

Back in Mid Earthiem, absolute silence was neigh impossible when riding on any vehicle, especially a train. The Summoner closes her eyes, and reminisces the time where the sound of chattering crowds and clattering train tracks would fill her ears, as if it were the day's attempt at giving her music even during the mundane moments of her life.

She misses that–maybe–even if she's lost her memories.

In contrast, the trains in Bound Arlyn are much more silent. Mainly because the inside of the trains had been lined with sound-absorbing artifacts and magic, making it a quiet journey for every person going to or there.

"Have you fallen asleep?"

Opposite her, Alpheratz removes the puppy neck pillow from his shoulders and places it on the table between them while yawning loudly. She doesn't react to him just yet, opens her eyes, and looks out the train window.

From here, all she can see are plain fields of grassy green shooting past them.

"How long have you been staring at me?"

Alpheratz leans to his left and rests his head on his forearm.

"Hm, I would say about 5 minutes, give or take."

"..."

The Summoner draws her fingers over the mist across the window absentmindedly, does this for a minute until Alpheratz calls her out.

"C'mon, I look far more manlier than that."

On the window is a drawing of a mini chibi Alpheratz with a pouting expression.

"Really? I think it suits you just fine."

"No it does not."

She sticks her tongue out at him and raises her sleeved arm to wipe it off before he stops her, touching the back of her hand.

She feels her ears heat up.

"Just because I said it was innacurate doesn't mean you have to destroy it, keep it there."

She withdraws her hand slowly, but doesn't get the chance to formulate an answer as everyone in the cabin hears a bell.

"Please excuse me."

Spica rises up from the couch arranged horizontally from the table they sit at, and heads towards a small box placed by the doorway of their compartment to respond to the magic intermission.

He presses a button signaling confirmation and asks, "Is it lunchtime?"

"Yes. Here is the menu for today and let me know when all of you are ready to order."

A menu magically appears out of thin air and floats down gently into Spica's hands. Excited by the prospect of lunch, Pollux bounds over eagerly and the Summoner takes the chance to get out of her predicament by following suit.

"Oh wow, the lamb skewers look great! And they've got fried chicken too."

Eyes trailing down the list, Pollux marvels at the assortment of choices until Spica moves it away from him.

"Please refrain from hogging the menu to yourself, give us some room to decide too."

"Hey! I was not hogging the menu-!"

"Oi conductor, give me another copy of that will you," Alpheratz asks, interrupting Pollux.

Another menu pops out with a shimmer of stars and lands right in front of Alpheratz. Disapproving at his laziness, Spica clicks his tongue, "You could've just come over here to see it for yourself."

"It's too far."

"You're only three feet away."

"Yeah, that's far."

"Can I have some mushroom soup?"

The Summoner interrupts their bickering and points to the corner of the menu.

"Is that all you're having?" Pollux asks, and starts eyeing the dessert section. "You usually eat more than this."

"Yeah, I'm still full from breakfast."

"But that's too little." Spica gives the Summoner a worried look. "At least have some bread to go with it, you need to take care of yourself properly."

They hear Alpheratz mutter quietly out of the corner of his mouth, "That's rich coming from you."

"I heard that."

"You were meant to."

Aggravated, Pollux stamps his foot. "Can the both of you stop fighting for one minute?!"

The Summoner smiles, and pushes the menu in Spica's hands towards him, "I'll be fine."

The truth is, she just doesn't feel like eating, and what keeps her "full" are just negative thoughts and worries churning inside her like a bad sickness.

Spica stars at her for a few moments before nodding his head, "Alright, let me know if you're hungry later on."

The Summoner gives him a grateful look before going back to her seat, sitting right across Alpheratz. She hears Pollux and Spica talk into the crystal intercom relaying their orders to the chef.

"Oi Alpheratz, what do you want?"

"Oh that? First of all, cocoa milkshake, sirloin steak, apple tarts..."

He trails off–just for a moment–and continues.

"Some garlic bread, braised pork ribs, strawberry gelato with chocolate fudge, sparkling soda, and asparagus covered in bacon."

...Those are all of her favorite foods.

Pollux whistles loudly, "You sure you can eat all of that big guy?"

"Hey kid, did you just call me fat?"

"N-no I didn't!"

"I don't care how much you eat, but just know you're paying for all the extras with your own budget."

Alpheratz smiles and raises the menu. "That's won't be a problem."

"Damn these rich people..." the Summoner mutters under her breath, and Alpheratz's grin grows even wider as he laughs lightly.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Take you for applying for our services, and we wish you a nice afternoon."

A silver food cart pushed by nobody rolls itself into their compartment carrying their lunch. Pollux is the first to make his move and bounds over to grab his dish immediately.

"Woohoo! It looks great! Hey Summoner, do you want me to bring yours over for you?"

"It's alright."

She would rather not have to deal with him dropping her food to the floor on accident, again. In order to avoid a bleak future for her meal, she gets up from her seat ready to head over to the cart, but quickly stops as she sees dishes fly up to the air and over to her, landing infront of her without so much as spelling a drop.

This really is a lot of food.

"Instead of taking it yourself, isn't it easier to do this?" Alpheratz hasn't so much as moved an inch from where he stays, even as the food settles in front of him tempting and steaming hot.

Pollux scowls, swipes his fried chicken and pancakes away before heading back to his table. He nearly trips on the way there however, but is thankfully saved by Spica–both him and the food, and thus another disaster has been averted, for now.

The Summoner chortles.

She sits back down and pulls over her mushroom soup. Picking up her spoon, she can't help but glance over to Alpheratz, who has now finally bothered to lift himself off the table and face the abundance of food laid before him.

"If you need help finishing all of that I can help," she offers. No matter how powerful a sorcerer is, there's no way anyone would have the capable tenacity to withstand such a force of nature.

At least she thinks so, if there exists a spell which allows people to eat infinitely, she wouldn't know.

But her train of thought is dully interrupted as he pushes a few dishes towards her.

The ones she likes best.

"Well I'm glad you offered, because these are for you."

"I'm sorry?"

Just for a moment, she thinks her ears have malfunctioned and subconsciously raises her hands to check on them.

"You heard me."

He pushes the last of them to her, and she watches as light refracts off the sparkling soda–scattered, shining pieces of light bouncing off everywhere. She gets distracted, her eyes following a dot of white on the table and she catches her own reflection, looks at the image of her gaping in surprise.

"...Why?"

Why do this?

Alpheratz looks out the window beside them, as if trying to avoid her searching eyes.

"Because you've gone near radio silent throughout this whole trip after our encounter with Sirius."

The image of a red eye hanging over the crumbling tower flashes through her head.

"You barely drink, or eat, heck you barely even sleep. And don't lie to me and say you do."

Her hand stiffens, and she desperately tries to distract herself from this, reaches out to hold her drink but jolts at the icy feeling of glass pressing against her skin.

"And it's as they say, food always makes a person feel better. You say you don't feel as if you could eat, but maybe putting the best of what you like best would get you an appetite."

He still refuses to look at her.

"Everyone's been worried about you. But because everyone else is too busy beating around the bush, I thought I'd take the initiative myself."

She glances around her and when she sees Spica give her a look and a nod while Pollux pretends to stay engrossed with his meal, that's when she knows it's the truth.

"Hey."

Finally, he looks back at her, with some difficulty. Next stiff as he turns and face her with a serious look.

"You've been worried all this time, haven't you?"

Yes.

She hears the screams of civilians, the crumble of stone walls, and the loud sound of a gunshot ringing through the air in this very moment, as well as every other time she closes her eyes and things get too quiet.

She's afraid that the next time this peace is interrupted, it'll be the sound of another bullet cutting through the air.

"Yeah."

But it's not quiet anymore–not in her heart–and now she hears their worries, woes, and love all in her head like melody notes reciting themselves on a music sheet by memory in her mind. So she smiles back at him, a smile too worn out to be bright but too sincere to be faltering.

"Thank you."

She removes her hand from her glass and reaches out to squeeze his own palms, tries to convey her gratitude.

She thinks he understands.

He says nothing for a few moments in awkward silence before speaking up.

"Your hands are cold."

To that, she laughs.

"Hey, quit laughing. The both of us know that this isn't my style." He groans and lifts his free hand to rub the back of his neck.

He keeps his other hand in hers.

She tries to play along, and pulls down a serious look.

"Seriously though, I don't think I can eat all of this by myself."

"Fine, we can share it."

The both of them are awkward as they go about their lunch, eating almost everything with one hand, refusing to let the hold between them go. It's inconvenient, supposedly, but magic makes the inconvenient convenient as always, so there isn't too much trouble.

"A good meal, some dessert, and maybe some more of all of that; I hope these are enough to put you at ease, even if just for a moment."

And it worked.

"HMRMMMM!"

Pollux's mouth has been zipped tight, and only when he calms down and gives an affirmative nod of understanding does Spica release the Silence spell.

"...Have they fallen asleep yet?"

He's as quiet as he can be, and Spica sighs exasperatedly, which was basically his way of saying yes. He gestures Pollux to keep quiet with a shushing gesture and motions him to sit back down. Silently, Spica walks over to the table holding up nothing but two people and an empty cup of dessert while conjuring up warm, fluffy blankets meant to keep the cold out.

"Good grief."

Their hands are still intertwined even now, sound asleep beneath the evening sun, refusing to let each other go.

Spica deftly and gently wraps the both of them up, bundling them in warmth and praying that it would last, just for a little while longer.

#arcana twilight #arcana twilight alpheratz #writing this to get the angst out of my system #idk if it worked

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vidavalor · 1 year ago

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Pleas explain to me how anyone, ANYONE can think they are not together after hearing “I won’t leave you on your own” and then “I know” as a reply? Because asdfghjkl PEOPLE. OPEN YOUR EYES AND EARS GODDAMIT

I love that scene, @procrastiel So sweet and romantic. One of my favorite parts of S2.

Not to pivot from the sweet and romantic to sexual innuendo, which is not necessarily unsweet or unromantic lol but just a different type of scene here... one of the scenes in S2 that makes me wonder how we're still all having this conversation is the start of Crowley drinking the laudanum in The Resurrectionist minisode.

You want to talk about if they've ever kissed before 2023? Ok, well, uh, here's a scene in *1827* in which Crowley is strutting around saying he's going to be fine after drinking a glass of poisoned wine because he's got the "constitution of an ox." Crowley's making a sexual comparison between himself and the barbecue Aziraphale gorged on in front of him in Job's cellar. He's speaking to Elspeth but for an audience of just Aziraphale (much like how he says the police spying on people in love thing to Aziraphale in front of Muriel in the present). He's literally saying don't worry, hen, if I can survive Aziraphale going down on me like he did that ox the first time he ate food, I can survive anything. Damn near killed me, the angel has. Maybe if I neigh like a goat, I can get him to do it again. Let's find out...

...and we cut directly to Aziraphale laughing, clearly amused by and enjoying Crowley tossing him a flirty compliment about his oral sex skills. I'm going to take a guess and say that it's likely they've kissed before 2023 if there was a joke between them on a date in 1827 about Aziraphale regularly causing Crowley to risk discorporation-by-blowjob.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow

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days-until-burnout · 2 months ago

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Maybe some romantic ranchers? Love your fics

what an opportune ask. i was already planning on a rancher fic and lo and behold, this req lol some ranchers coming right up o7

_____

📧 Day 78 -

Characters - Jimmy/Tango Words - 1,422 Time - 60 mins Content - Farm AU

Jimmy's heard of the newcomer. All the way from the city, life packed into a truck, and finally moving in into that quiet, empty house near his parents' farm. It isn't farmland, just a quiet house surrounded by fields. And other people's farmland.

Personally, time hasn't allowed him to see them yet. But he's heard things. Nothing big or exciting, mostly gossip about the city and why they must've come into the country side. Regardless, his life and day is busy enough that he can't spare time to chase leads or walk over and meet them—though he knows his parents will, at some point when they find the time.

For the time being, he pats Bullseye on the right side of his neck and the continue their walk to Joel's place. Some produce to deliver, then it's back home to look after the horses, then it's… Well, he isn't sure yet, but it'll come to him soon.

"So?" Joel asks as he unloads the last sack of corn, tossing it with the rest carelessly. Jimmy looks at him with brief confusion, seeing a raised brow and tilted head. Joel rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh, "The new guy. Met him yet?"

Jimmy shakes his head, Joel sighs again.

"You should. Find out what's the deal, I mean. I heard he won't be living alone."

This time, Jimmy is the one to raise his eyebrow. "Why do you care about some guy?"

Joel shrugs and waves him off. "Dunno. Drug lord for all we know."

Jimmy's mouth drops, but Joel is already shooing him off before he can defeat the stranger. As he hops back into Bullseye and they begin their walk back, he is overcome with the feeling of impotence—for not defending the new guy? Yeah, he doesn't get it either, but it's whatever.

After letting his mum know he did the delivery, and after unloading the exchanged produce, Jimmy takes the reigns and walks Bullseye to the paddock. There are a couple horses hanging in the lots around it—with the summer sun, the horses aren't rugged, and some are even hanging in the shaded areas under trees.

"Alright lad, a couple laps then you're going on your break." He says cheerily, and Bullseye nickers, pushing into the side of his face with his own.

Jimmy unlatches the paddock, letting Bullseye in first before he follows, latching it behind him. Swiftly, in a single motion, he is back on Bullseye, and after securing himself, it takes nothing before they are running laps. He considers running on the fields for a bit, giving him a little more freedom, but he remembers they've been doing deliveries all morning and decides to not strain his horse.

Tomorrow, though. With fewer deliveries, and them being nearby, he makes a promise in his mind.

Time passes as he cheers and laughs loudly, the wind carrying his voice around them as Bullseye copies with his own neighs and nickers. The sun is hot on their heads and bodies, quickly covered in sweat the wind is just not strong enough to dry. But there is a freedom to it, in every gallop and every bit of dirt kicked up. The leather of the reigns dig into his sweaty palm, and he feels the tension and release with every slow turn, with every jump.

Jimmy forgets about the world for a while, until he's guiding Bullseye to a slow, and then an eventual stop. They breathe hard, satisfied yet eager for more, but he calls it a day for now, guiding them to the entrance. He eyes a couple of horses they pass by, wondering if any of them will need some exercise.

Jimmy stares at a red dun and chestnut chasing each other, not realizing Bullseye stopped, and not at the gate.

"Hey buddy."

Jimmy rarely registers the voice, only really noticing once Bullseye neighs. He turns to see his horse nuzzling his muzzle into a stranger's hand, pushing down on his palm before lightly pushing on their face. Pale skin, blond hair, dressed up very casually, if not a little not for the situation.

It takes another minute before Jimmy kicks himself mentally, tipping his head and hoping his hot face can be excused on the sun.

"Hi."

The stranger looks up, and smiles. "Hi. Sorry to distract."

"Oh! No, no. You didn't. We were done anyways."

"Seemed like you two had a lot of fun."

Jimmy nods, breathing out and forcing himself to relax. "Yeah, my buddy here and I have been together for a couple years now. We love just—running about."

"Is that so?"

He nods.

"I've never ridden a horse before. Probably sucked at it, huh? Closest thing to riding an animal was getting in a car with a tipsy driver down the highway in the middle of nowhere. Not fun, not fun."

Something clicks in Jimmy's brain, and he does a double-take on the stranger, tilting his head and squinting. "Hey, are you the new guy? Who moved in recently near this farm?"

"Oh crap, yeah! I am, name's Tango. How could I forget to introduce myself."

"No, no! It's—gosh, yeah, I didn't either. I'm Jimmy. Nice to meet you. My parents own this farm, they should be around somewhere—"

"Yeah, I've met them. Hah," Tango looks to the side sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "they actually told me to come here and see you. Completely forgot about that, huh? Distracted watching you and all."

Jimmy thinks his heart skipped a beat. He isn't sure. He won't question it.

Before Jimmy can say anything stupid, Tango continues, drawn back by Bullseye. "So what its name?"

"Bullseye! It's—ugh, it's a dumb joke. From the—"

"Toy Story?"

He deflates, "Yeah. A friend named it and it only answers to that, so the name stuck around. I tried other names though, but I just wasted treats for nothing."

"Well," Tango grins, scratching the underside of Bullseye's chin, "you're a cowboy, aren't cha? Not a bad pair."

"It's actually—" Jimmy stops himself, shaking his head. He shouldn't tell embarrassing stuff to new people, much less new neighbors. For the time being, he just needs Tango to not meet Joel, for as long as possible. "I guess so."

"So what are you doing now?"

"Eh, some grooming maybe. If my parents don't have more chores for me to do." Tango nods. "You can come with, if you don't have anything to do. Most horses are fine with strangers so it shouldn't be a big deal."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I've got this, Tango. Leave it to me."

Tango laughs, then huffs with an almost fond eye-roll, "Sure, boss. Lead the way."

Jimmy tugs the reigns back to the gate, and Tango hops off the fence, walking parallel as Bullseye begins to walk. For a couple minutes, he moves on autopilot, a single thing running through his mind.

The sound of Tango's laugh—sweet and warm, friendly, so friendly and nice. It echoes in his mind, overwhelming him like warm summer days after cold winters. He wants more of it, hear his laughter more, and maybe see his face more too.

Jimmy catches himself in the thought, his face having returned to normal only to be burned up in heat again.

He doesn't know Tango. But he has eyes, and Tango looks nice. And Tango seems like a nice person—if Bullseye likes him, then Tango must be a good person. But he's still a stranger, but won't be once he knows him, but it's too early to be thinking about 'wanting to hear him laugh' or 'wanting to see him more'. He will, because they are neighbors, but intentionally.

Intentionally.

In a mix of confusion and self-scolding, Jimmy shakes his head harder than he needs to, bringing himself back to the present. He blinks his eyes to a brush in his hand, the red roan coat of Bullseye in front of him. But he distracts again, so easily, following the voice, quiet and careful, until he lands on him. On Tango.

"Hey buddy," Tango says quietly, taking a half-step closer to a black spotted blanket horse. He reaches a hand slowly, and the horse lets him pat and scratch. "Nice."

"Her names is Rev," Jimmy surprises himself with how leveled his voice is. But Tango looks at him with surprise, then he eases back into a pretty smile, and Jimmy knows he can't say anything else.

"Hi Rev. I'm Tango."

_____

is this the same au as the smalletho one? that's for [redacted] to decide. anyways. uh. if i write them again, it will be gayer i promise. jimmy or tango or both will pull an day 10 (b) etho and it will bring balance to the world. trust<3

also, i know nothing about horses or farmlife<3

#trafficshipping #team rancher #solidaritygaming #tangotek #day 78

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wavypotatochips · 2 years ago

Text

𝑺𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓 | 𝑵𝒆𝒚𝒎𝒂𝒓 𝑱𝒓.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : Neymar Jr x Female reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : You are an upcoming Call of Duty streamer that's ends up in a private lobby match with Neymar. During the match, you constantly kill him with his own operator skin. He gets upset and decides to message you.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 1.9𝘬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: This is my FIRST time writing an imagine and I am currently learning a 3rd language so I apologize if my grammar is horrible-my brain is frying lol c': If you guys would like a part 2 pls interact!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ♥

You are an upcoming Twitch streamer who has around 8,000

subscribers, streaming Call of Duty Modern Warfare II on a Friday

night- very typical for someone like you. You were playing with

another streamer at the time; she was a good friend from college and

had more subscribers (about 500k) than you had. She is the one who

suggested that since you have always been a gamer, you try your

hand at being a streamer. While your friend Jocey, a fellow Twitch

streamer, left to get a drink, you were considering which operator to

get by looking through the storefront within the game. "Okay chat

which skin should I purchase?" The 4,560 viewers of the livestream

immediately started spamming the chatroom with "Messi" or

"Neymar Jr.", which wasn't much assistance because so many people

said one or the other that it was impossible to determine which one

was most popular. "Well, that wasn't much help, now was it?" you

chuckle. Leaning closer to the monitor as you modify your position

on your gaming chair, you try to decide which one you like. You click

to make the purchase while muttering to yourself. "I guess I'll

choose Neymar for the time being and get Messi afterwards." Even

though you didn't know much about Messi or Neymar, you were

aware that they were two of the best three football players in the

world. Once more you glance over at the chatroom and read, "Why

don't I just buy both? Since I spend most of my money on new video

games, I really can't afford to buy both." Jocey's voice may be heard

briefly through the microphone saying, "Yeah, you totally didn't

spend your money on going to a concert." "Alright, maybe that was it

too." You click on the game invitation she sent you and muttered. You

inquire, raising an eyebrow, "Search and Destroy?" She answers

swiftly, “Another streamer wanted to host a search and destroy

lobby, is that okay? If not, we can go back to doing our own thing.”

You're not bothered at all. Call of Duty's Search and Destroy game

mode calls for 4-6 players per squad. While the other team works to

defuse it, one team must plant a bomb at the explosive site. Every

player only has one life. By successfully defusing the bomb,

successfully placing the bomb, or being the last team standing, you

can win the game. “No it's fine no worries… I'm ready to destroy all

these bitchesssss.” You stretch a little, crack your knuckles, and look

across at the other gamertags in the lobby not being able to make

out any of the names. To ensure that the squad can all join the party

together, Jocey says, "Okay, I'll provide you the discord connection."

While navigating to Discord to join the link and join the channel you

spotted, you nod your head despite the fact that she couldn't see

you. Jocey had entered with four other people already. Shortly after

the introductions, everyone turned their attention to the game.

Naturally, it wasn't a competition, but we didn't want to look bad in

front of our audience. The game shortly started and you were doing

decent as you were averaging at least 2-3 kills before dying. One

game suddenly became six which wasn't surprising as you can never

believe a gamer when they claim to be playing just one. You always

eliminate the player with the gamertag "Neigh" that was on the

opposite team in each game that was played. “ I just know this Neigh

person is pissed off.” The seventh and last game loads. With both

your team and the opposing squad each having three victories, the

game was now deadlocked. Jocey laughs and says, "Since this is the

last game, when we die we should leave the main chat so the ones

who are alive can concentrate." "Alright bet bet bet bet.” You

respond, the other guys in our party agreeing. As soon as the game

began, bodies began to fall from both teams; on your team, you and

Jocey were the only survivors. “Jocey if you die I will strangle you

myself.” You gripped the mouse firmly, feeling as though your heart

may jump out of your chest. How challenging can a 2v2 be? You

and Jocey have done this a lot of times. Before you can cheer, Jocey

dies. The Kill feed shows Jocey getting a kill, which made you joyful.

You bite your bottom lip when the game tells you that you are the last

one left alive, "Well chat, it's just you and me now, and let me tell you. Eu acredito que eu poderia cagar um tijolo agora ... Eu odeio ser o último vivo!" (I believe I could possibly shit a brick right now... I hate being the last one alive!)

As you searched the map for the last person, all you could hear was

silence. The game informs you that a bomb has been planted, and

you have 30 seconds to locate and neutralize it. One of the bomb

sites suddenly begins to glow. The only words that came out of your

mouth as you moved cautiously toward the explosives were "Fuck

fuck fuck fuck fuck." You watch the opponent stoop down and start

hardscoping the bomb location as you draw nearer, which makes you

grin evilly. They are unaware that you are directly behind them.

You make the decision to try Neymar Jr.'s execution move instead of

shooting them since he is the operator you are playing. When you are

close enough, you press the keyboard to start the execution by

catching the enemy. Neymar Jr. execution consisted of kicking the

opponent in the back of the leg, causing the opponent to fall to his

knees and then elevating his leg, kicking him hard in the face. As it

happens, you chuckle, and once he was dead, you hurried over to

defuse the explosives. You glance over at the chat room while using

the keyboard to disarm the explosives. “Quem quer que tenha sido a

última pessoa precisa excluir seu jogo.” (whoever that last person

was needs to delete their game)” As you read some of the messages,

you smile. When the game ended and your team was the victor, you

realized it was the "Neigh" individual you had slain yet again. “Sim, o

cavalo precisa ficar em um lugar de cavalos. Devo enviar-lhe

cenouras por correio?” (Yeah, the horse needs to stay in a horse's

place. Should I mail him carrots?) Even if you thought the joke was

humorous, you must admit that it was really corny. As you become

perplexed upon seeing your view account soar to over 200k viewers,

your laughter quickly comes to an end. “What the...?” You instantly

thought Jocey viewers were just raiding you (raiding= many viewers

join their livestream for a short amount of time), “Oh, ei Jocey, os

telespectadores gostaram disso? Apenas saiba que foi uma

embreagem rara e é mais do que provável que eu não possa fazer

isso novamente haha” (Oh hey Jocey viewers, did you like that?

Just know that it was a rare clutch and I will more than likely not be

able to do that again haha) Little did you know that the person you

kept killing with the operator skin was the man himself, and he was

now observing you from the other side of the screen. Your stream

was open on his monitor allowing his viewers to see you, which

resulted in them searching you up themselves.

Neymar found it infuriating to keep dying by the same individual,

especially since it was his own operator. He had a small tantrum

every time he died, cursing towards his monitor and letting out

stressful sighs. Once the game was over he read his chat

noticing that someone had mentioned the identity of the Twitch

account that kept killing him, Smilingxo. “Smilingxo, eh? Vamos ver

quem eles são.” (Smilingxo, eh? Lets see who they are.) He instantly

opens Twitch and types in the username, expecting to be greeted by

a male but to be astonished to see a female. one that is also

appealing. He joined exactly at the time when you made fun of his

username,“Ela acabou de me chamar de cavalo?” (Did she just call

me a horse?) He laughs as he turns to his camera, “Vocês podem

acreditar nisto! Eu morri constantemente por ela... Eu sou tão ruim

neste jogo." Another sigh was released, " Isso me estressa.”(Can you

guys believe this! I constantly died by her… I am so bad at this

game. It stresses me out.) He takes one more look at you before

closing your channel. “Alright guys I'm gonna end it here and get

some rest.” He says to the chat, not bothering to join in the discord

channel that everyone was talking into-instead he just sent his

friend, the host, a text message. He yawns as he waves at the

camera, saying ‘Goodnight’ while ending the stream and beginning

to shut everything down. The sight of you continued to linger in his

mind. You were not only attractive to him, but seeing how good you

were at the game definitely made you get extra brownie points. With

him only seeing you for a few minutes, he couldn’t help but feel a bit

curious about you. Grabbing his phone once more, he looks back at

your twitch account to see if he could take another look at you.

Meanwhile, since the viewers have been here, not all of them have

been polite; the majority of them were offended when you referred to

the username "Neigh" as a horse. You didn't believe them when they

said that Neymar Jr. was the user. Really, what are the chances that

you two are playing together? “Mesmo que fosse Neymar, não tenho

culpa que seu nome de usuário me fizesse pensar que ele era um

cavalo.” (Even if it was Neymar it's not my fault his username made

me think he was a horse) you respond sarcastically while rolling your

eyes at the others comments. “There is no reason for y'all to be

acting this way over a practice match.” You mumble as you watch the

screen say you were disconnected from the match. When Jocey

returns to the channel you were in, you hear a tone through your

headphones. "Hey Y/N I believe everyone is leaving; do you want to

continue playing? Or are you also finished?"

“I think I'm done. Your viewers are starting to annoy me with this raid.

Why am I getting attacked because I kept killing the horse?”

“My viewers? What do you mean…. I am not raiding you?” She replies

back confused. “Nevermind. Yeah I'm gonna get off, I'll text you

tomorrow. Goodnight Jocey!” You wave your hand at the camera to

also say bye to the viewers, “ Sweet Dreams to the Smiling family

and to everyone that was being rude I hope you guys get

nightmares.” The broadcast was subsequently cut off, and your

computer was turned off. You sigh, realizing that you really shouldn't

have wasted your time arguing with the random chat users, but you

did so because you found it amusing that they were unhappy for the

wrong reasons. You shut down your computer and then get ready for

bed by taking a shower. When you are all set for bed, your lovely bed

beckons you, and you breathe a sigh of relaxation. You hear a "ding"

from your phone as you settle in and cuddle up under the blankets.

You sigh and sit up to grab it because you believe Jocey messaged

you. When a notification appears on your lockscreen, your eyes

widen and you cover your mouth with your free hand as you

immediately start to totally regret everything you said on video.

Instagram : NeymarJr wants to send you a message.

Edit : PART 2 POSTED!

#neymar jr x reader #neymar one shot #neymar jr imagine #neymar x y/n #neymar jr #neymar imagines #neymar jr x you #neymar jr one shot #neymar jr fluff #neymar #oneshot #female reader #football fanfic #football imagine #soccer imagine #neymar x reader

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anathemafiction · 2 years ago

Text

Jealousy — Part 2

Music plays in the air, and voices mingle with the big firepit burning in the center. The scent of cooking meat brings water to your mouth, and the light buzz of alcohol makes your head sway pleasantly. There's a warmth in your stomach, a silly smile on your lips, and you cannot, for the life of you, keep up with his fingers.

"There!" you yell and point at the back of one of the cards. "That's the one, I'm sure of it."

Vali, the rogue, smirks. "Are you sure?" he asks, his long blond hair catching the glow of the flames. He keeps it tied loosely to the back of his head. "I can do it again."

You narrow your eyes playfully at him. "I'm sure," you say, putting as much confidence in the tone as you can. You hit your palm on the table. "It's that one!"

Vali tuts. "I like my coin, but not like this. This is turning pitiful, you've already lost three silver." He lifts his eyebrows, giving you a charming smile to take the offense from the words. This is all for fun, of course. "Watch it one more time and then make your choice."

You laugh because you feel like it. "I know you're trying to get me to pick another because that's the right one.”

"That's a lie."

You laugh again. It feels so good to simply let go. "I've made my choice."

Vali sighs. "I really—"

"Just show the fuckin' card." His voice cuts through the air like a knife. It's flat, despite the heat of the words, and when you look at Rafael, he's glaring at Vali. Not that you're surprised, he has been scowling and frowning and glowering ever since your new friend approached your table. "Before I get a damn headache."

Vali, as the easy-going person he is, takes it in stride. He smiles at Rafael, who only scowls harder. "Very well, but I was just trying to protect your friend's interests."

Rafael scoffs. "Ya watchin' over someone's interests, alright."

"Raf!" you hiss, taken aback by his blatant hostility. You don't understand why he's behaving this way. He was in relatively high spirits when you came to the lodge, but now, he's ruing the game.

You wonder why he even bothers to sit here any longer, it's clear he's not having any sort of fun, but Rafael seems determined to not leave your table. He's just... this gloomy, sullen presence trying to bring the mood down. Well, you won't let him. "Just stop that."

Rafael's brown eyes shift to you.

(...)

"A name?" you repeat.

The woman nods. "Yeah. Look, it won't hurt, uh? What's the worst that could happen?"

And maybe it's because you're so frustrated, but you decide to give it a try. "Fine," you say, turning to face the horse again. She's a beautiful animal. Tall, strong legs, a long mane, and two eyes that shine with intelligence. "... Flora."

It's a goddess name, one of the forbidden ones. But the woman doesn't have to know that. No one does.

The woman puts her hands on her waist. "Go on, then. Call her."

She seems to be used to giving orders, and while the fact would normally annoy you, you can't help but... find it charming. She doesn't do it to be superior, you can tell. This is just a part of her personality. So, you do as she says. "Hey, Flora," you call. "Do you like that? Do you like the name, Flora?"

Flora shuffles her hooves, but after a beat, she neighs softly.

"Heh, I reckon she does," the woman says. She glances at you, then, and gives you a wide smile. "I'm Josie, by the way. Saw you struggling a bit. You don't mind me helping, do ya? Got nothing else to do, really."

She extends a hand.

You see a flash of movement from the corner of your eye. Turning your chin to the side, you cross eyes with Neia. The yellow burns brighter than the midday sun, piercing straight into you. She's leaning on her chair with her elbows on her knees, and her head pushed forward. Her jaw clenches tight, and she seems to dwarf the room as, even seated, Neia grows with each second.

You can tell she's displeased, but you turn your head away to smile at Josie. "I don't mind at all," you say and clasp her hand.

With Josie's help, it doesn't take long for Flora to calm down. You manage to step close to her, and then, following Josie's pointed instructions, Flora lets you strap the saddle to her back. "Ah!" you cry in triumph when you secure the last bolt. You shake Josie by the shoulders. "I did it!"

Josie laughs with gusto. "You sure did, lass. Now, go on, mount her." She takes your arm and spins you around, grabbing both sides of your waist.

You see another flash of movement from your periphery, but you don't care right now. Right now, you're high in the sky. Flora pounds her hooves anxiously, probably because of all the excitement, so you forcefully calm yourself down. Josie is a reassurance at your back as carefully, gradually, oh-so-slowly, you reach for the reins...

Neigh!!

Flora throws her head back, and Josie's hands tear from your waist. You spin around but are made speechless when you come face to face with Neia.

"Fuck out of here." Neia grabs Josie by the shoulder and roughly pushes her away from you. Josie stumbles, falling face-first on the sand. She springs up, and rounds back, her face contorted in anger, hands bawling, ready to—

She freezes.

Neia looms before her. The tall specter has her chin down, her lip twisted in a snarl and her broad shoulders cast a shadow over Josie.

Josie slowly closes her mouth. "I was just helping."

"Sure, you were," Neia growls, and jerks her chin to the exit. "I won't tell you to fuck off three times."

Josie looks at you and falters...

(...)

Someone told him, long before, that if you have nothing positive to say, then perhaps you should say nothing at all.

Lance likes that rule. He likes not saying anything at all, for it's rare for those who talk to listen, and Lance enjoys listening. There's no better grave than the one you dig for yourself, so why should he ever stop anyone from talking their way into their own hole?

Lance prefers to listen, but as of now, he's finding it hard to stay quiet.

There are very few positive things to say. The man's grip is wrong, his rhythm inconsistent, most of his notes are off-key, and Lance would bet his golden tooth that he hasn't bothered to tune his viola in at least a fortnight. The song filling the unfortunate walls of the common room is one full of mistakes and blunders, but worst yet, they are not missteps made out of boldness and passion. They are not creative, they are simply... terribly executed. An amateur, that man is, and yet, he introduced himself as an expert minstrel.

Lance's lips press on each other as another note makes him cringe. If one cannot find a single positive, one should remain silent. And he would. He will. Lance simply wonders why everyone else seems to miss the fact that the man on stage is a horrid player.

The tavern isn't full, but a good number of patrons pepper the tables. The big hearth burns, its crackling flames drowned by the shrill melody, and the barkeep is a voluptuous woman with red hair, a brown dress, and a cleavage that attracts the eyes. Not your eyes, however. Your eyes, to Lance's complete puzzlement, are set on the would-be-bard playing on top of a makeshift stage. Your table is the closest to it, and you sit with your chair dragged to the side so that you can fully face the stage.

You rest your chin on your palm, your lips are stuck in a smile that's so light, it radiates peace and softens your gaze, and your foot sways with the rhythm of the song.

The terrible, awful, song. And yet... you are enjoying it. They all seem to be. A man in the corner has his eyes closed and a blissful look on his face, while another group sways their heads as they speak with each other. For the old gods' sake, there are even a few coins on the hat placed at the man's feet and not just copper ones. Are they all deaf? He wouldn't care, really, Lance does not care...

But as the amateur— Lance refuses to think him a bard — makes a flourish, spinning on stage while the music gets to its grand terrible crescendo, your smile widens, and you clap your hands when, dramatically, the man stops, and bows.

"Thank you!" he shouts, and perhaps Lance is biased, but even his voice sounds wrong. He puts a hand to his chest while the other holds his viola high, waving it at the crowd. "Thank you so very much."

You clap a few more times, laughing with the others. Lance picks up his drink and drowns whatever it's inside, hoping to erase the sudden bitterness at the back of his tongue. His grey eyes are glued to you. It is over now, so, as painful as that was, he will finally have a respite. Perhaps Lance will venture to sit at your table, he'll only wait for—

The fake minstrel steps out of the stage, but instead of moving toward the bar, as he should, the man approaches your table. Lance puts the glass down as, immediately, he strains his earring, leaning forward on his chair.

But he shouldn't have bothered, for the man's baritone voice rings obnoxiously loud. "Good evening," he says, and then he bows. He keeps eye contact with you the whole time with a curling smile on his lips. "My name is Lucien, the Gifted, and I have to commend you."

That you didn't laugh at the pathetic name is bad enough. "Commend me?" you say instead. "What for? I should be the one commending you, Lucien, the Gifted."

Lucien shakes his head and reaches forward... to take hold of your hand. "No," he stage whispers. "You deserve all the credit. For all the years I've performed, never have I had a better audience."

You laugh, but it's not mocking. It is... amused. This cannot be. Surely, you have better taste. "I see you possess a silver tongue," you say coyly.

Lucien bends down and kisses your knuckles. "And you have immeasurably charm. I could write a song about you. I will!"

You laugh again.

Lance prefers to stay silent. He likes to observe. But he's pulled out of his chair by a force he cannot explain, and he's striding towards your table with a purpose he seldom felt before.

(...)

The Pirate King. He's slouched against the wall, one elbow propped casually on top of a shelf, hips cocked, and fingers idly playing with one of his axes. His severed thumb sweeps across the handle, shaped like a golden naked woman, and his canines flash from amidst the shadows. He's smirking, you can tell.

But you know from experience that usually signals danger.

If you could, you'd frown at him, but you can't, so you try to push the Pirate out of your mind and focus on George again. You're so close. "What haven't I heard?" you say in a light, breathy tone. You force another sultry smile and put your hand next to George's meaty one. He looks down and brushes your little finger, and it takes almost all of your willpower not to recoil. "But mostly, I've heard of your talent for acquisition. I was told you have interesting items. Items that..."

This is it. You pause and lick your lips, watching as George tracks the movement. You then go all in as you lightly drag your nails across his wrist. "You don't keep in the upper parts of the store, where the sun might reach, and wrong eyes might see them."

The Pirate's silhouette looms in the corner. You can feel his heat from the distance, his piercing gaze. You push him away again.

"If you'd be so kind as to show me your other merchandise," you whisper, leaning until you're practically lying on the counter. George's eyes go right where you want them to: the mounds of your cleavage. "I would be eternally grateful."

George seems stuck leering at your chest. Disgust once again curls in your stomach, but you wait in silence as he slowly lifts his fungi eyes again. His gums are red and bloodied as he licks his fat lips. "Gratitude is fine," George says, turning his enlarged fingers so he can latch onto your wrist. "But I want a little appreciation before."

He tugs on you, and you curse in your head. Lord's bloodied, fungi-invested fingernails!

"Pay me first, pretty thing, and then I might have something I can show you," he says, tugging you again, and you know then that it's all over.

From his corner, the Pirate moves. He swaggers closer, steps loose and unhurried with his axe hanging from one hand. He's smirking still. Smirking wide.

His eyes, however, are no longer on you.

"You damned fool, I tried to do this the easy way," you say to George with a disappointed sigh. You snatch your hand from his, shaking it as if to erase his touch.

George's eyes narrow. "What do ya—"

Crack!

The wood splinters open when a heavy axe cuts through it.

(...)

The entire pieces are available on Patreon!

Crossing the Line —The Pirate King & Neia

Upstaging — Lance & Rafael

#Most of these don't start at the beginning #Neia #Lance #Rafael #The Pirate King #Patreon #The Golden Rose

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rose-sophia-isabella-rogers · 10 months ago

Text

A Steel That Went Through Hottest Fire: Chapter XII - Holding Out an Olive Branch

Chapter Summary: You wake up and discover Aleksander is gone. You hurry to the Fold, determined to help him, save him or die with him. Will you get there in time? And what do the results mean for you?

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader, Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky, Mal Oretsev/Alina Starkov, Genya Safin/David Kostyk

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, Ivan, Fedyor Kaminsky, Alina Starkov, Mal Oretsev, Inej Ghafa, Zoya Nazyalensky, Nina Zenik, Nikolai Lantsov, Genya Safin, David Kostyk, Baghra, Tolya Yul-Bataar

Word Count: 4333

A/N: This chapter contains plot and dialogues from episode eight of season two. Also, we're get into the story from the King of Scars. Not much taken in this chapter, but later on I'm going to take some fragments from the book. Enjoy! https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089684638/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089798515/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089786937/

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@thehufflepuffavenger1

When you wake up, you don't open your eyes at first. You lay in it, remembering with a smile the events of last night. You reach to the other side of the bed but you don't find Aleksander with your hand. You frown at the feeling of very cold sheets. You move your hand and suddenly feel a piece of paper.

You sit up abruptly. You grab the letter and scan it quickly with your eyes. Your face goes pale and your heart stops.

'Damn it, Aleksander!' you curse and spring out of the bed. You quickly dress yourself. For a moment you can't find your kefta. You finally notice it, but when you unfold it, you see it's not yours. You freeze for a moment. In some places, grey embroidery turns to black. In another situation, you'd be touched by it, appreciate it and maybe even cry a bit. But now you just put it on and gather your things.

You take a peek outside. In the letter Kirigan mentions that Fedyor and Ivan will look after you. You understand it as making sure you won't run. So, you look for them. You see them with their backs to you and a few feet away, talking quietly.

You quietly sneak away past them to the horses. You prepare yours and mount it. You direct him toward the Fold and urge him forward. It neighs, and galops away.

Ivan and Fedyor's head snap toward the sound. They're eyes go wide at the sight of you riding away. They sprint toward their horses.

'General will kill us!' Fedyor says, cursing under his breath, as they mount their horses.

'If he'll me merciful,' Ivan says gloomily and they ride after you.

But you're riding faster than you've ever had. Your heart beats faster, when you see the Fold is closer. Aleksander has spread it again. You bite your lip, fully believing nichevoy'a will protect you from the Volcras, and ride into the Fold.

You don't have to worry about the monsters of the Unsea long, though. Suddenly, everything is covered in blinding light. When you can see again, you're no longer surrounded with darkness. The Fold is gone. While part of you is glad, you're mostly concerned with what that means for the Darkling. You ride faster, praying to the Saints to arrive in time.

In the middle of the Unsea, Aleksander and Alina face each other. Starkov won, but Mal sacrificed himself, so she could destroy the Fold. Kirigan is wounded, but he still wants to join forces with the Sun Summoner. But when she pushes him away, nichevo attacks her, and doesn't listen to the Darkling ordering it to stop. Inej, the female thief from Ketterdam you've met, throws a sword made by Sankta Neyar at it, destroying it. It's the only thing that can do it and it's been acquired it with great difficulty.

'You can't control them, can you?' Alina asks. 'You can't control any of it.'

She's on her knees. Aleksander is already standing. He offers her his hand. She stares at it.

'I thought I could control it all… once,' he says. 'Find peace. And for a moment… I swear I did.'

He closes his eyes with a soft smile. Memories of you flash in his mind. Your smile. Your laugh. Your teas. Your kisses. The nights you've spent together.

Suddenly, he feels terrible pain in his abdomen. He coughs out blood and opens his eyes. He looks down. The sword is lodged in him, held by Alina's hands.

'Without me… know they will come for you,' he says. She stares at him angrily.

'Let them come,' she says and pulls out the sword with the grunt. Kirigan gasps and falls backward. A moment later Starkov shows up in his vision, blocking out the sun.

At that moment, you arrive. Your heart drops at the sight of General on the ground and Alina above him.

'No,' you whisper, dismounting. 'Saints, no, please!'

You run to them. Alina hears you or sees you, because she looks up. She tenses and gets ready to fight, but you ignore her and fall on your knees next to your lover. He groans as you touch him.

'Hey, hey, hey, hey. Shhh,' you say gently, as you scoop him up in your arms.

Saints, no, please, no…

'… [Y/N]… you're here?' Aleksander asks, trying to focus on you. You manage to laugh, tears in your eyes.

'Yeah. Yeah, of course I'm here,' you say. 'Now don't talk.'

There's so much blood…

'It h- it hurts,' he cries out.

'I know, darling,' you say, brushing the hair from his forehead. 'But don't talk. And don't move, either.'

No, no, no…

'H-hey, [Y/N]?' Kirigan asks. His breaths are rattling.

'Yeah?' you ask.

Stay awake…

'I-' he says and coughs. 'I love you.'

His eyes close. You freeze. You finally heard those words. But he… he's gone.

'No…' you sob. You whine, your shoulders shaking, as you press your head to his chest. You clench his kefta tight, begging him to come back to you.

You're not even aware you have an audience. Zoya and Inej are standing not far, looking at you sadly. You're only pulled back to reality after hearing a relieved laugh.

You lift your head up. You see Alina hugging Mal. The tracker is alive. A Heartrender, Nina, is next to them. Did she save him? But no, she's shocked as well. You focus on Alina… and feel it.

You feel anger. She killed Aleksander for using merzost to save Grisha. And now she's used it to save her lover? What a hypocrite…

You feel something burning inside, begging to get out. The moment you realise what it is, you calm down. You look up and meet Zoya's hesitant look calmly. Everything is gonna to be different now.

You don't know how you return out of the Fold. Or what used to be it. You get to an old camp at Kribirsk. You meet the rest of Alina's army there. Including Prince Nikolay. Your eyes meet, but he quickly looks away, finding something unnerving in your look.

You're taken away to a tent. On your way out, you didn't allow anyone to take you from Aleksander's body. Now you hesitate only for a moment.

You sit on a chair, your hands spread and bound. After what feels like hours, Nikolay enters the tent. You don't look at him.

'Baghra claims these bonds won't stop you,' he says after a moment and walks toward you. 'That if you want, you can break them free. You don't need to touch your hands for that.'

'And why would I do that?' you ask, your voice flat. The Prince… or maybe the King, just not crowned yet, sits on a chair opposite to you. You still don't look at him.

'To run away,' he answers. You focus your gaze on him. Once again, something in your eyes disturbs him.

'Where?' you ask.

'Anywhere you want,' he answers, shrugging. You smile bitterly.

'And what would I do?' you ask. 'I used to think I can use my powers to help others. To make this world a better place. How would I do that on the endless run?'

Tears glisten in your eyes. You hastily look away. Nikolay observes you in silence. He knows you were on Kirigan's side. But he can't imagine you approved everything he did. Others told him that as well.

'Are you going to kill me?' you ask.

'Do you want me to?' he asks. 'And that is a serious question. Do you want to die?'

'No,' you answer after a moment. 'I… I've done some things I'm not proud of. I need to atone for them. My death wouldn't do that. I'd be just running away from responsibility for my actions.'

'Did you really love him this much that you didn't hesitate to break your own rules?' Nikolay asks quietly. You look at him.

'I do,' you confirm. He almost shivers under your gaze. He looks down.

'You'll be a prisoner until…' he says but doesn't finish the thought. Until you atone? Until they decide you're not really a villain?

'You weren't with others,' he says instead and looks at you again. 'And you weren't with Kirigan in the Fold from the beginning. If you had been, you'd have stopped Alina from killing him. So, where were you? Why weren't you there?'

'Because he didn't want me to,' you answer after a beat. 'He was protecting me, since I'm not much of a fighter. He didn't want me to get hurt. And he also… didn't want me to bend my morals even more. He already believes… believed… that he had ruined me enough.'

Your look softens. You clench your fists.

'I'm not trying to minimalize what's he done,' you say. 'He committed hideous crimes. But he… he cared. There was goodness in his heart.'

Silence falls. This time you don't try to hide tears in your eyes.

'You know this is my third time in this camp?' you say. 'The first time was when I created my skiff. The second time when… we crossed the Fold that day.'

'Did you know what he's planning?' Nikolay asks.

'I figured it out,' you admit. 'I didn't approve of it, though. And I'm glad the Fold is gone. I didn't believe controlling it would make Grisha safe. Just as now I don't believe it being gone will do it.'

'It won't be easy,' the King says, easily getting back his confidence. 'But the country is united once again. We can do it.'

'The land maybe is reunited, but not its people. It won't be that easy. You lost what could unite them. Because it's easier to unite against a common enemy than under the kind ruler.'

'You think Alina made a mistake killing the Darkling.'

'You know my opinion on that matter. But yes. He could have been someone that could help you stitch this country back together.'

'If you didn't believe in neither controlling the Fold nor destroying him… what did you believe in?'

'Him.'

Silence falls again. Nikolay observes you, thinking how to break certain news to you.

'We have to burn him,' he finally says and you stiffen. 'Will you let us?'

'I know how dangerous it would be to simply bury him,' you say softly and then look at him with a hard gaze. 'But I have one condition. Or rather… request.'

'What is it?' the King asks, actually curious.

'Let me prepare him for it,' you answer and your lip trembles. 'Let me… say goodbye properly.'

Nikolay thinks about it carefully. But finally… he nods.

'I will send someone for you,' he says, standing up. 'But after you're done, your being tied again and in Os Alta you're going to be put in a cell.'

You nod in agreement. The King looks at you for a moment longer, then leaves.

You're not sure how much time pass until it's time of the ceremony. For the burning of the Darkling and the Sun Summoner, which is obviously attended by many people. Because officially, Alina Starkov has died while destroying the Fold. She chose a simple life with her Tracker. You can't really blame her. It's what you would want with Aleksander.

You glare at her. She's here, disguised, of course. But she wanted to see it. See him being burned. And herself. So, since you're present as well, you glare at her, angry that she can get to live the life you want.

You turn your head, not wanting to explode. You glance at your guards and look at his body. In the corner of your eye, you see Nikolay giving the signal. You watch as the Inferni summon the fire to ignite the stake. People around you call Alina's name. No one calls his. Because not many knew it.

'Aleksander,' you whisper. Suddenly, you feel arms around you. Zoya, your friend, who's not sure how to treat you now, puts her head on yours.

'It's over, [Y/N],' she says softly, with a dose of compassion, you think.

'No, you're wrong,' you say quietly, your eyes not leaving the pyre. 'It has just begun.'

Two years and a half have passed since the civil war in Ravka. Nikolay is still trying to stitch his country back together. He has help, of course. But some things only he can do. One of them isn't the new threat to Grisha. To deal with that he needs all the help he can get.

Jurda parem. The drug that modifies Grisha's power by changing their perception of the world in an opposite and unnatural direction. It is extremely addictive to them, and rapidly weakens the body of the user. Many want to use this to their advantage. Fjerda. Shu-Han. It seems only Ravka wants this drug out of the market and to save Grisha. But even though they now have the son of the creator of the drug, they're still not closer to finding an andidotum.

Nikolay sits with his Grisha Triumvirate – Genya, Zoya and David – and they have a brainstorm. The Durast is trying hard, but so far, he's getting nowhere.

'It is frustrating,' Zoya sighs, after yet another dismissed idea. 'Why did Bo Yul-Bayur have to die?'

'I'm sure he didn't just decide to die and leave us all in this mess,' Genya says grimly, but suddenly frowns. 'David? I know that look. You have an idea.'

'Well…' the Durast starts but closes his eyes. 'I'm not sure.'

'Share with us, David,' Nikolay encourages him. 'Surely it's not worse than Zoya's idea to set Fjerda and Shu-Han on fire.'

'I still think it's our best option,' Zoya says, raising her head haughtily. She is ignored.

'I have tried many things with that drug to find an antidote,' David says. 'I am skilled… but there is someone whose mind is far brighter than me… who may think of a solution.'

'There is no one smarter than you,' Genya says, squeezing the hand of her husband.

'There is one person,' Kostyk disagrees, staring Nikolay in the eyes. The King slumps in his chair. He closes his eyes and pinches his nose.

'You can't think…' Genya starts, realising what the Durast means as well. 'She won't agree.'

'She cares about Grisha,' David argues softly. 'And she's not… She helped you escape.'

'She's spent two years and a half locked in a cell,' Safin argues. 'She couldn't use her powers. Don't you think that changed her?'

'Surely,' Kostyk agrees. 'But not enough not to help.'

'Can she really find a way we haven't found?' Nikolay interrupts them.

'We've all been surprised by how powerful she really is,' Zoya speaks up. 'All but one.'

An hour later Nikolay knocks on the door to Baghra's hut. He comes in after the invitation. The old woman is sitting in her armchair. She looks at him.

'Do what do I owe the pleasure of the King himself to visit me?' she asks with sarcasm.

'I need to talk to you about our problem,' Lantsov explains, sitting on a chair.

'Jurda parem,' Baghra says and spits. 'Another abomination. Are the Durast and Alkemi any closer to finding an antidote?'

'No,' Nikolay denies and exhales. 'But David believes someone else may think of something.'

'[Y/N],' Baghra immediately guesses and nods. 'She has a unique brain. One of the reasons he was so drawn to her. Yes, if anyone can find a cure, it's her.'

'Will she do it, though?' the King asks. The old woman is silent for a moment.

'Yes,' she finally answers. 'Her heart hasn't changed. She still would do anything to keep Grisha save.'

'But what will it cost us?' Lantsov asks. Baghra smiles.

'You have to ask her about it,' she answers. 'But don't worry. Without my son, she's not your enemy.'

Another hour later, you hear footsteps coming your way. You know it's not Baghra, who's visiting you quite often, as they don't sound like hers. You look, curious, at the door to your cell and a moment later you see a guard and… Zoya.

'Have you come to kill me?' you ask.

'No,' your former friend simply denies and nods at the guard. He unlocks and opens the door to your cell. The Squaller walks inside and he closes the door behind her, but doesn't lock it. Then, he leaves. Zoya sits on a chair usually occupied by Baghra. She crosses her legs and looks at you.

You're sitting on a chair. You're thin, almost all skin and bone. Your complexion is grey. There are dark circles under your eyes. Your hair is matte. You look like a ghost.

'Then why are you here?' you ask. Nazyalensky sighs… and tells you everything about jurda parem. By the end of her story, you're frowning.

'That is… I've always known Fjerdans are bastards but what they did to those Grisha…' you say and shake your head. 'Still… I don't know why you have come to me.'

'We need to find an antidote,' Zoya explains. 'And you're the brightest person we know.'

'I'm not a Alkemi, though,' you say, frowning. 'And since Bo Yul-Bayur was one… you need another one to create an antidote for his work.'

'We don't have an Alkemi smart enough, apparently,' the Squaller says. 'And since you're a Durast-'

'It's not the same. We have completely different abilities.'

'Maybe. But you're still the smartest person I know. If you can't figure it out, no one can.'

You look away. You think about it in silence.

'Please, [Y/N],' Nazyalensky says quietly. 'David believes in you. So does Baghra. And… I do, too.'

'Trying to use my sentiment, well played,' you say.

'I'm not trying to manipulate you,' Zoya snaps. 'I'm not-'

She stops herself. She goes pale. You close your eyes.

'I still find it funny,' you say quietly. 'He manipulated everyone. I was manipulated by everyone but him.'

'I know he said with his last breath he loved you…' the Squaller says slowly, '… but he still didn't deserve you.'

'Perhaps,' you concede. Silence falls between you two again.

'Fine,' you finally say. 'I can try at least.'

'What do you want in return?' Zoya, who's relieved but also wary, asks. You look at her with a frown.

'I care about Grisha, too, you know,' you say. 'I want them to be safe as much as you all do. But since I can ask for something… there's one thing I want.'

A few months have passed since you've been officially pardoned and released from prison. It felt nice to return to your old room and not to have your hands bound. But other Grisha, obviously, don't trust you and look at you with disdain. You ignore them.

Together with David and other Materialki you try to find an antidote for jurda parem. It's not going well. One day, you even throw a mortar at the wall. David stares at it with wide eyes. You exhale slowly and run a hand through your hair.

'You know, I think it was simpler with the skiff,' you say.

'It is complex,' Kostyk says. 'Give yourself time. We're getting there.'

'And how much of that time I have?' you ask. 'The only reason I'm out of the cell is because you believed I can figure something out. When does Nikolay's patience runs out and I go back there?'

'It won't happen,' the Durast promises. You smile sadly at him. He decides to take your mind of this.

'Did you think what will you do after we find an antidote?' he asks. 'Will you… stay?'

'I am not welcome here,' you say after a beat. 'I… I don't know what I am going to do. They say, "follow your heart", but if your heart is in a million pieces, which piece do you follow?'

You blink away the tears. David looks at you with sorrow.

'You know… I miss him sometimes, too,' he admits and you look at him with interest. 'He… had something about him. A charisma. He drew us all in. We felt safe, needed. I believe that he actually cared and wanted to make Ravka better. Or at least better for Grisha. I don't think he was evil. He… just lived too long.'

'Sometimes I think so, too, ' you agree quietly. 'But then I think we didn't have enough time.'

'Did he… tell you he loved you?' Kostyk asks hesitantly.

'They were his last words,' you answer after a beat. 'For weeks I wondered whether he feels what I feel. And when I finally got a confirmation… I couldn't even be happy about it.'

You look down. The Durast wants to reach to you and squeeze your hand. But while you work, joke and spend time together… you're not as close as you used to be. He still wants to comfort you somehow.

'I'm sure you hear others gossiping,' he says after a moment. 'That he didn't and was just manipulating you. I don't believe it. He truly cared about you. I saw it. When he was dragging you away from workshop, so you could rest, for example. He was also more relaxed around you… more cheerful. And yes, it was friendship at first. But at some point, I noticed that he was looking at you differently than he used to.'

You smile at him, grateful for his words. But he's not done yet.

'When he was leading me to the workshop in the mansion,' he continues, 'he said you're there and you're definitely going to be happy to see me. He… he seemed so happy he can brighten your day. He always was like that with you.'

'If you won't stop, I'm really going to cry,' you chuckle, trying really not to break down. 'Thank you, though.'

David nods. You go for the mortar you've thrown and return to work. Your fellow Durast observes you.

'I think, though, that you deserve more,' he says after a moment. You look at him, curious.

'You deserve to be someone's priority,' he explains. 'And while there's no doubt Kirigan loved you… he cared more about the Fold and power.'

'Thank you, David,' you say. 'I… I think I really needed to hear all that you said. About… him… and me as well.'

Just then Tolya Yul-Bataar shows up at the door. He looks at you grimly.

'Speaking of,' you say and pack your things. 'See you in a week.'

'Until next week,' Kostyk says, nodding. You smile at him and leave with grumpy Tolya. You go outside and mount your horses. You set off immediately.

A few days later you reach your destination. You ride through an open space that used to be the Fold for so many centuries. Finally, you stop and dismount. Tolya stays with the horses and you continue on foot for a moment longer. At last, you stop and stare at the ground.

This is your price for helping with an antidote. Every two months, you're to travel here with someone, not always Tolya. To the place where Aleksander died. It's your way to deal with grief. At first, you wanted to come here every month. But since travelling there and back takes about a week, you agreed for two months. You're relieved Nikolay agreed at all.

'So, here I am again,' you start. 'Missing you the same way I did three years ago. I told you, didn't I? That I would never forget you. Three years it's probably not much for you, since you've lived hundreds of years. But I know you'd want me to move on by now. I don't think that's ever going to happen. You'd probably be frustrated by that.'

You exhale slowly. You can hear Tolya pacing behind you, but still giving you some privacy. You know he wishes to go back already.

'To be honest, I'm a bit frustrated, too,' you admit and your lip trembles. 'You were never supposed to mean this much to me. I was never supposed to fall so hard. But you know what? I did and that's the truth. That's what keeps me holding on, because it hurts like hell to let you go.'

Tears stream down your face. You don't stop them this time. You sniffle.

'It's hard without you,' you whisper. 'I feel lost. I don't know what to do. I wish you took me with you that day. Maybe then everything would be different.'

You fall silent. You think of what else to say, as you remember your last moments together. You saved him from merzost. But he died anyway. Still… at least you had that one last night. You smile at the memory.

'I don't know what will I do in the future,' you finally say. 'But I will find an antidote for jurda parem. And protect the Grisha. Because that's what you'd want. You'd want them to be safe and healthy. Mind you, you'd probably want to rip Fjerdans apart for what they're doing.'

You chuckle. Then, you kneel and press your hand to the sand. You focus on the ground beneath it for a moment, remembering how you held Kirigan in that spot three years ago. Your heart breaks, when you remember how he fought for his breath. But he still tried to hold on, wanting to at least tell you how he really feels.

'Until next time, Aleksander,' you whisper and stand up. You turn and return to Tolya. He fails to mask his relief that it's finally time to go. You almost roll your eyes, but you understand that most feel uneasy here. You don't. Not anymore.

'Done?' Tolya asks.

'Yes,' you confirm, mounting your horse. The Heartrender does the same.

'We can go back,' you say and you look at the place where the Darkling gave his last breath. 'I'm done here for today.'

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts! Reblog, like and comment if you could. Every comment makes my day!

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52696933/chapters/134689462

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