#metal gear series one shot

[sillyfriendssharingablog]

If the party was over And our time on Earth was through I'd wanna hold you just for a while And die with a smile If the world was ending I'd wanna be next to you

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Chapter One -> Next Chapter

“Welcome back from patrol, Miss Songbird, that’s what the press is calling you right?” your boots rang out against the metal floor of the warehouse that you and your so called group of misfits called home, all runaways, all some sort of vigilante, none of you knew each other's real names and nor did you need to, it would just bring back bad memories for most of you and for all of you it gave plausible deniability it anyone ever came looking. You spotted the one you all called Foxglove sitting on one of the couches in the warehouse, she was the one who was talking to you as you walked in. Foxglove is a young woman, your age give or take a few months, long red hair and blue eyes, she was a tall young woman, probably from around Central City from where you could place her voice, but none of that really mattered, the past did not matter, only the here and the now. “Hard night or nah?”

“Not really, I just avoided a run in with Red Robin, he almost spotted me when I was on the Madison Street bridge, I almost crashed my bike trying to avoid him this time.” You spoke to her as you took off your mask, peeling it away from the skin by your eyes. Your suits and gear were gifts from someone you had saved from a hostage situation, a wealthy businessman from Coast City, Mark Austen, he had sponsored your work with no strings attached except a friendly relationship so if you needed help just ask and vise versa with him, he came by every month or so to drop of a shipment of gear and repairs and he did know your nicknames and faces but certainly not your real names, well knew yours due to your paths crossing before but that was another life. You sat down on the couch across from Foxglove, your body falling down with a heavy thump, you would need a replacement soon, you should ask Mark on the next shipment of supplies. You cracked your neck and threw your head back on the backrest of the couch with a heavy sigh. “Also, please don’t call me that, it makes me sound like one of them and not one of us, ya know?”

“You mean like one of the bats and birds? I mean that’s fine I guess.” She groaned, laying back on the couch and crossing her legs over the armrest. She was off of patrol for the next few weeks, got shot a few days back by one of Black Mask’s men and got her foot pretty messed up, so she has been on communication links and the technical sides of things. “I don’t get why you won’t work with them at all, I mean even Clove and Nettle have sucked up to work with the Bat. It’s a personal history, I’m right aren’t I?”

“You're rarely wrong.” 

“Were you one of them? Like one of the Bat’s birds?” 

“...Kind of… I…I… wasn’t… one of them exactly.” You choked on your words as a sudden weight on your chest sparked up yet again, a weight you have not felt in a very long time. How long has it been since you left them? Three years, maybe four? You brought your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and hugging yourself close as your eyes fixed upon one of the tinted out windows of the warehouse. “I… I don’t like talking about it.”

“Oh… I didn’t mean… I’m sorry if I brought up any bad memories.” She apologized to you, her more relaxed tone falling into a deep pit of sympathy to you. There was a beeping from the laptop that sat on the coffee table between the two of you, the one that she had been using to watch the communication line, someone was calling in. She grabbed the computer and answered the line, catching your attention as you listened in. “Clove, Foxglove and Nightshade here, what’s your status?”

Right… Nightshade… that was your name now.

“Ya, Henbane and I have a bit of a situation here…” Clove’s voice cuts through the line and there was a bit of unease in her voice as she spoke to you both. “We’re down Southside, by the docks, there was supposed to be that shipment tonight… that was a front, there is a lady here who wants to meet.”

“Well Nettle is up by Gotham University at the moment and I am stuck here at base with my foot-”

“No she just wants to meet with Nightshade- or she called her Songbird anyway, says she knows her.” Clove’s words made you prick up, no one has known any of you for years, you all ran away and when you did you all became nameless. “I don’t think she is one for negotiation but I also don’t think she’ll let us leave unless Nightshade is here.”

“Can you tell us what she looks like-”

“Don’t, I know who it is, or a very good guess at least.” You stood up from the couch and grabbed your mask once again and pressed it back onto your skin as you made your way back to the warehouse garage. “Turn on my spare tracker just in case anything goes wrong, Foxglove. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“Do you think she’ll kill you?”

“She wouldn’t dare.”

________________________

You pulled your bike over in an alley as you neared the trackers that were on Clove and Henbane, tucking it behind a dumpster so no one would see it while you were away. The docks were dead this time of night, there was a drug bust last night by Batman so the docks were dead in case he was still lurking about tonight, but you knew he was not, you knew him better than that. You walked down the cement road, following it as you neared the water, according to their trackers Henbane and Clove were by the north east waterside of the docks.

“About damn time you showed up, Nightshade.” You looked up to see Clove leaning up against a warehouse wall, Henbane next to her. Clove was an innocent looking girl, she was fourteen maybe fifteen when you all started, so now she was just barely an adult if that, she looked like a terrified lamb with her short wavy brown hair and eyes, her freckles and round glasses. Henbane was not as innocent looking as his best friend, he was a big guy, six foot, five inches, curly brown hair and green eyes, and just pure muscle. They walked over to you, Clove looking a lot more terrified than her counterpart, she was normally the one on communication links. “She hasn’t said anything since we called and just has been standing there, waiting.”

You glanced behind them, and just ten yards or so away stood a silhouette of a powerful looking female frame, only the shape was visible in the darkness of the Gotham night. You took a deep breath in and out and took a step forward, pushing away Henbane’s hand when he tried to stop you, you glanced at him and Clove, not even bothering to force a smile at them, time for that sort of thing was long lost. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, just wait here.”

They nodded before you walking off, your heart pounding in your chest as you neared her, it was the first time in years that anyone has found you, you knew that your family had been searching for you since you left but they never found you, on both sides of things, with and without masks. But really you shouldn’t be surprised that she was the one who found you first, she was not a part of them exactly but she cared for you nonetheless, if you can call it caring. You came to stand next to her, looking over the still waters of the night. You saw her turn to you out of the corner of your eye, you felt her hand come up onto your cheek gently caressing your skin before reaching for the mask and peeling it away from your skin, revealing your face before both of her hands came up your face to turn your head to look at her.

“You’ve grown so much.”

“Hello Talia.” Seems like you were right about who was waiting for you, none other than the daughter of the demon, Talia Al Ghul. You would need to get in touch with Mr. Austen sooner or later and see what he could do about shutting down the media on you and your friends, you needed to stay nameless. You pushed her hands away from your face, grabbed your mask from her hands and pressed it back onto your face. “Make this quick, this is on your son’s patrol route and he’ll be here soon-”

“He is also your brother if you had forgotten.”

“And yet, you are not my mother.” You glared at her, eyes narrowing at her as she turned to look back over the moonlit waters. “I will ask you one more time, what do you want, Talia?”

“You remind me of your father.”

“Fuck this, I’m heading back to base.” Right as you turned to head back to your bike she grabbed your wrist, holding you back, you should not try to fight her, she could break every bone in your body if she wanted to, she would not do such a thing, not to you, but she certainly could. You snapped at her verbally, your voice like daggers. “What?”

“Something dangerous is brewing in Gotham, something beyond what you and your… friends can handle.” She glanced over to where Henbane and Clove were standing, just out of earshot before looking back at you. “Go back home tonight, my dear.”

“Or what?”

“If you leave me no choice, then I will wait here until my Damian arrives here on his patrol and tell him about who is behind that mask you wear.” 

she released your hand and you stepped away from her, glancing back at her after she spoke, just looking her over, she certainly was not bluffing about this. You turned away from her, walking away, back to Clove and Henbane as you called out to her. “Well I better get a headstart then.”

“You are making a mistake, dearest.”

“I have made plenty of those before and I am still alive, Talia.” You heard her sigh and you waved back towards your friends and you just knew they would be asking a million questions after your conversation but you pressed your finger to Clove’s mouth as she was about to peep. “I’ll explain later, get a hold of Foxglove and get her to tell everyone to get back to base now.”

“But Nettle is-”

“No buts, we don’t have any time to fight on this, we need to regroup and I need to fill you all in about… more than a few things.”

________________________

“So what’s this emergency meeting all about, something Nightshade got caught in?” Nettle questioned, everyone was sitting around the kitchen table, well the only proper dining table you had in the warehouse. Nettle was a short young man, you all took him in about a year ago, seventeen now, short blonde hair and green eyes, he was the one who had the most known backstory out of all of you, and that was you all knowing he was from Metropolis, you didn’t ask questions and you did not need to know. 

“More like my past coming back to haunt me.” You sighed and crossed your arms, sitting on top of the kitchen counter, feeling a need to physically distance yourself while you gathered your thoughts. “You all have been in Gotham for quite some time, but I was born here and well a few things have come to the surface.”

“What things?” 

You sighed at Henbane’s question, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone, it was a  burner from Mr. Austen because god knows you cannot have something for them to find you. You had opened up to a news article about a disappearance from a number of years ago, your disappearance. You set it in the middle of the table for all of them to read the headline at least and see the photo underneath that. “My old family, if you can call them that, knows my identity as of around three or so hours ago.”

All of them just stared at the headline for a long moment, Clove was glancing between you, the phone, and everyone else to see their reactions before her gaze fell back to rest upon you. “You’re one of Bruce Wayne’s kids?”

“Yep, I am his youngest daughter and biological child.”

“And we should be afraid of Bruce Wayne, why? He is just some rich playboy-”

“No he is not.” you cut Foxglove off and everyone’s heads turned to you. “The whole rich playboy persona is a cover up, he… he… he’s the Batman, the Dark Knight of Gotham, whatever you want to call him.”

“So wait, are your siblings like Nightwing or Robin?!”

“Wait, were you a Robin?”

“She couldn’t have been, Henbane was the one who taught her how to fight… right?”

“Is this why you don’t like the Bats?”

“I… just one at a time, please.” You asked your friends as they suddenly bombarded you with questions and statements and they all hushed at your request. “First of all, yes, those are my brothers, but I wished they weren’t. Secondly, no I was never a Robin or whatever, I didn’t want to be and even if I wanted I would not be allowed to be, I never learned how to fight, they thought they were protecting me.”

“Weren’t they?” Nettle questioned you, glancing about the table for approval from the others. 

“They did not… I… let me explain.” You jumped back onto the counter, crossing your legs and sitting down on it. You took a deep breath in and out, closing your eyes and taking a minute to calm yourself. “What I am about to tell you brings back some bad memories and it took a long time and some help from Mr. Austen to connect all the dots on this since a lot of it my mom didn’t want me to know because I was young and she wanted to protect me…” “It’s okay.” You heard Henbane’s voice tell you, like he could practically hear your heart racing. “Take as much time as you need, none of us like to think about the past.”

“I’m fine… I’ve had a long time to come to terms with this… but thank you.” You opened your eyes and smiled at your friend and his intimidating frame was not frightening to you, not anymore, actually it never was, he was the one who found you alongside Foxglove when you managed to sneak away during a charity gala, they found you in that alleyway not long after they found each other. “My mother was engaged to Bruce Wayne a long time ago, before the first Robin, Dick Grayson, even came around and when he was just starting really as the Bat. My mom loved him, but if they ever had any kids she didn’t want them to be involved or hurt by anything he got involved with, she didn't want that sort of life. So she called off their engagement and left him, and like clockwork she found out she was pregnant with me a few days later.”

“She raised you by herself?” You nodded at Clove’s question and a deep look of pity came across her face. “That must have been so hard for her.” 

“Don’t we… not gonna lie we were filthy rich, we were just fine with my mom’s own money.” That comment drew a laugh from Henbane and Foxglove along with an embarrassed chuckle from Clove. “My mom was a really great mother and an even better single parent, I was always by her side, she took me all around the world and it was just us for a really long time. Then one day we returned to Gotham for some big charity party when I was seven I think and she saw Bruce again and he saw me… I was young and naive to the dangers of the world like most other children, but then again the children in his life had been right with him fighting crime, I mean that woman at the docks, she is my half-brother’s mother, she is the daughter of the leader of the League of Assassins, Talia Al Ghul…”

“...are you serious?” There was a shocked silence in the room after you said that before Henbane spoke up and you nodded to his question, he just stared off as he leaned back into his chair. “Jesus Christ…”

“Ya, he is now the current Robin, Damian Wayne, trained by the League of Assassins- but that is another story, sorry I was rambling. Anyway he never got over my mom and now that I was around he wanted to protect us and I know my siblings may have been the ones to kind of prove his point with that. I know my oldest brother, Dick, tried to talk to my mom about that but that didn’t work and so then Tim, he… he started to look into my mom to find blackmail.”

“To blackmail your mother.”

“Right on the money, Clove. So when it was the day before we were supposed to leave and this part is actually my fault… I ran away from my nanny and I almost got kidnapped and I got saved by the Red Hood-”

“Wait, is the Red Hood also-”

“My brother? ya, he is, his name is Jason… he was actually pretty nice to hang out with, him and my sister Cass, Cassandra Cain. I remember after he rescued me, Jason took me to Wayne Manor and I met my father for the first time and I remember it was nice, until it wasn’t… I remember my fath- Bruce coming back later that night with my mom, they were going to get married and it just felt off. I knew something was wrong, I just didn’t know what until it became clear to me over the years, Damian threatening my classmates at school when I was kid when they only wanted to have lunch with me, or when I found a file upon file about me and my mom and photos of us in Tim’s room, or hell when I got a boyfriend he almost got strangled by Damian and got his life threatened, and when I punched a kid at school I got sent to Bludhaven to live with my brother, Dick, or there was the time I was… I was having sex with my boyfriend and for that I got locked in my room for over a month and then… actually I don’t like talking about that.” You sighed and let your shoulders relax, looking over your friends and gauging their shocked and disturbed reactions. “You all get the idea now, and so as of a few hours ago they know I am still here in Gotham and who I am behind the mask, thanks to Talia Al Ghul who I have an… interesting relationship with.”

“But why?”

“I refused to go home, thanks to the feed that has been shown on news she found me and well she is going to tell them, or rather she has already.” You glanced over to the evidence board that is over on the far end of the warehouse, by all of your gear and the bikes, well you and Clove were the only one with bikes, Mr. Austen was working on an armored car for the others since you can Clove were the only one to know about motorbikes, you from the times you snuck into the Batcave or when Jason brought you down to hang out while he worked or even when Kate Kane snuck you out on hers. “She told me that something dangerous is in Gotham, beyond us, but then again I do not know if she would lie about that or not… it’s been awhile since I last saw Talia… she was very fond of my mother, kind of like my dad is of my mom.” 

“So what now? If something like that is here we can’t team up with the Bats anymore, that would be crazy to risk losing one of our own.” Nettle added in looking at everyone around the room. “And plus they know we know you and where you are.”

“So we just need to be more cautious on patrols, we have a shipment from Mr. Austen coming in tonight before patrols. I can see if he will be willing to help us out, teach him the communication lines so when my foot is healed I can head out with the rest of you.” Foxglove spoke up to Nettle’s concern before she looked at you. “Then I am guessing from what you said, Mr. Austen already knows.”

“Ya, he recognized me the moment of that first delivery when I was out of my suit, he is a friend so we can trust him.”

“Mkay… wait a second…” Foxglove paused and looked at you, an idea already coming to her mind. “If they know you are still in Gotham now then you don’t have to hide anymore. I mean how many press are going to recognize you four years later and the Bats aren’t out during the day besides Signal but you aren’t in costume during the day so it’s not like he can interact with you at all unless he wants to expose himself.”

“Wait, what are you saying?”

“You can head out during the day, find allies, I mean you couldn’t before cause your family is still in Gotham and didn’t know you’re here and Nettle can’t still because he only went missing a year ago and would be too recognizable, but the rest of us can.” Foxglove grabs one of the writing pads from the table and a loose pen, waking you all over to gather ‘round as she begins scribbling down a schedule, or something along those lines. “We don’t leave the warehouse alone, groups of two or more now, the Bats will connect the dots but none of us have civilian identities anymore, I mean hell, Mr. Austen calls us the nameless, no one will know or recognize us anymore. I am stuck here for now cause of this foot, but when I am free to move, Henbane is with me on the streets and Clove is with you, Nightshade, but until then both of you are to stick with Nightshade, and then Nettle and I will hold up the fort here.”

“So then… where to now?” Clove questioned, looking at you, or more specifically, looking you up and down, clearly judging your appearance of sweatpants and a tee shirt since you have pretty much been in hiding for four years, not much need for nice clothes. “Actually some different clothes would do you some good, c’mon, I’ll lend you some of mine and we can ask Mr. Austen for some cash to go shopping when he swings by later tonight.”

“Our sugar daddy.”

“No, more like our rich wine aunt who spoils us.”

“How about we just call him our benefactor?”

“No.” 

________________________

Luckily your rich benefactor gave you more than supplies for vigilantism, but also supplied you more everyday transportation and funds for those sort of normal items, like a licenced bikes along with your armored ones for your use, along with fake ID cards, but you really did not need those anymore, you could even park in a parking garage, that felt weird to you now. You could not remember the last time you stood in a coffee shop line, maybe the last time Barbara and Dick took you out, you felt so flustered that Clove had to order for you. 

“Hey, don’t beat yourself over if, I remember the first time Foxglove and I headed out to the streets for the first time, it felt like a whole other world, it just takes time to get used to.” Henbane tried to comfort you as you walked out of the coffee shop, drinks in hand. “Clove was also a fish out of water.”

“It just feels weird to be out here, like normal.” 

“Well, we’ll get you back to normal soon enough.” Clove patted you on the back and you forced a smile before staring down at your iced coffee, this felt nice, it felt normal. “Any other place you need to stop by before heading back to the warehouse.”

“...Actually ya…” You looked up at Henbane and Clove, taking a deep breath in and out. “Call me crazy… but I want to go see my mom.”

“Your mom… wait, that means going back to Wayne Manor-”

“Clove, I haven’t seen her in four years, please.” You looked your friend dead in the eye and smiled, one of hope for a change. “They’ll respect a truce, especially with what I know from Talia, I don’t think she would have given a warning when she only wanted me to try to get me out of the way of it, besides maybe some of the leads we have for out cases connect to what’s coming and she knew and that’s why she wanted us out of the way.”

“I…fine, but we’re going in with you.” Clove responded before Henbane could and she shot a look at him when he tried to. “We’ll send word to Foxglove and Nettle along with Mr. Austen, so if anything goes south they’ll know where to find us and besides don’t they?”

“They do, but still Nightshade, we need to stay safe and this-”

“I’ll be fine, after all we do have leverage.”

“And if you’re not fine?”

“Then I’ll be safe from whatever Talia warned me about.”

________________________

Your bikes pulled up to the gate of Wayne Manor, it had been years since you saw the grounds you used to live at and none of it has changed, it has the same sprawling grounds, the same iron and brick fence, and surely the people inside have not changed much either. It took you a moment before you heard the intercom buzz next to the gate, luckily it was just audio and motion, not camera. 

“It’s… it’s me, I’m here to talk.”

You could practically hear the shocked silence from the other end of the line before the gate swung open and you could pull forward before it shut behind the three of you. By the time you pulled up to the front door and took off your helmets the door of the manor had flung open and you saw Dick as the first one standing there, staring at you, he looked like he was about to cry at the sight of you. At the sight of someone, both Clove and Henbane tensed up, ready to jump in front of you at a moment’s notice, Dick quickly caught onto their defensive behavior and his eyes narrowed at them, glancing between the two of them.

“Talia told Damian last night… Please tell me it’s not true.” As Dick spoke those words, his eyes fell on you just as you could make out the silhouettes of everyone else in the doorway, minus Duke, he must be on patrol. Damian and Tim came just next to Dick, they really didn’t look much different from how you last saw them, more tired maybe, you could spot Jason, Stephanie, and Cassandra behind them, and it felt like you could practically hear Bruce’s footsteps from inside the manor. “Please… you can’t be.”

“It is true…” The air left your throat as you saw a muscular figure push past his children and there in the doorway you make eye contact with him, your father, Bruce Wayne. His gaze left like death by a thousand cuts, but you swallowed your fear and looked him dead in the eye as it felt he was daring you to say that again. “I am not lying, after all my mother taught me better than that.”

You heard your father sigh and rub his temples with his forefinger and thumb as he walked down the stairs, he was still acting like you were a child and the life you lived for the past four years has just been a game you have been playing with your friends at recess. “Let’s get you inside and we can talk this over while Alfred gets your room ready.”

When he reached out and grabbed your wrist you felt yourself stiffen up and there was not a moment of pause before Henbane reached out for his throat, a big mistake. Without skipping a beat, you saw your father release you and reach out and grab your masculine friend’s arm and flip him onto his back and then the next thing you knew you were pushed behind Clove as she had pulled out her handgun and had it pointed at your father’s head, another mistake, but it seemed your father was more in a negotiation mood. He glared down at Clove, looking her dead in the eye behind her thick glasses. “Put the gun down.”

“No-”

“Clove, put down the gun.”

“You said this was going to be a visit! I don’t want to lose you-”

“Clove, please!” You were practically begging your friend at this point, you could practically hear her heavy breathing as she was on the point of tears and breaking down and sobbing. “Clove...”

You just watched your father grab the gun from your friend’s hands, tossing it on the ground. He looked back to your siblings in the doorway. “Dick, Jason,  get them inside and sit her down, she needs to calm down.”

“But-”

“Now!”

Dick didn’t argue any further and he walked down the front steps and ushered Clove inside, talking to her as if she was a citizen in distress, meanwhile Jason just practically picked up Henbane over his shoulder and carried him inside as if he was just a giant sack of potatoes. 

What vigilantes you all were.

You felt Bruce’s hand come to rest upon your shoulder and you looked him in the eye as he smiled at you, it should be comforting, a fatherly smile, but you just hated that look, it just always made you feel like there was a pit in the bottom of your stomach and you wanted to vomit. 

“You’re back home-”

“I’m not staying.” you cut him off and slapped his hand away. You glared at him, gritting your teeth behind your lips. “I only came because I was warned about something dangerous and because Talia’s actions have let me walk outside again. So you would be wise to not to do anything, because if me or my friends aren’t back before patrol tonight then I promise you all of Gotham will know who the Batman is along with the rest of you, and do not try me on this because I promise you I am not nor even was that helpless little girl you pictured me as.”

“...Fine, we’ll discuss this inside.”

[simp-ly-writes]

The Jackals Companion

─────── · · A 'Day of the Jackal' (TV series) FanFic

Pairing: Charles "Jackal" Calthrop x Fem!Hacker!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: After a shocking turn of events, you and the Jackal become lovers-of-sorts and you both share a moment in one another warmth as a snowy London sets the backdrop to your hotel room.

─ · · TAGS: second person perspective used, female-pronouns used, mostly fluff, cuddling, kissing, depictions of blood, mentions of guns and violence, usage of pet-names (ex. love) swearing, light angst.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,401

─ · · A/N: thank you to @calmowl2407 for this sweet ask! sorry that it took me awhile 🫶 I hope you all enjoy :)

─────── · ·

─ · · You were a certified genius- or at least thats what your first job title while working in an a Apple store for a few years but now you were a freelance hacker and profiler; having graduated with multiple degrees in sociology, psychology, mathematics, and of course, computer science.

─ · · During the day you worked as a teaching assistant and seasonal lecturer but at night, you were known as "Robin." You loved your behind-the-scenes job, the disconnection gave you privacy yet enough money to live a plush lifestyle in reality and to do the things you loved most- teaching others.

─ · · When on one of your nightly "raids" you liked to call them you were toying with auction prices at an event, watching through the security cameras in order to pause the sale just at the right moment yet it appeared that someone had the exact same idea as you... just in a more direct approach...

Your vision snapped over to one of your other various monitors at the sight of a figure in a suit, moving outside of the outlined space for the event. You raised a brow, zooming in on pixelated face with a scoff- nobody ever invests in high quality cameras these days.

You watched as he moved through the various corridors and always knew where to face so that all the cameras did not get a clear sight of him. He walked in long purpose-filled strides, a gym-bag over his shoulder, the object inside odd in shape as you rendered a scan of it- a gun? But who's the target little assassin?

You did a quick search of the black-web, trying to find any details or contracts that had been posted in the last three months yet nothing particularly pertained to anyone attending this event. Your eyebrows furrowed, irritation growing as you couldn't find any information of why this man was here, who he was going to attack, and even who the hell this guy even was in the first place.

You tapped your finger against your desk, contemplating your next move, the clock was ticking down and with one click it would be lights out, the men posing as handlers would run with the object just as your contract requested and you would have yet another fat pay check in your lap... could finally buy that new wool coat, you thought to yourself with a smile, thats if this assassin doesn't mess with anything...

You watched as he unzipped his bag and set up his gear, sizing up for the shot, click, you giggled, leaning back in your chair as you watched through the various body cams to see the artifact successfully stolen and they made their escape. People were running around everywhere, police entering the scene as the auctioneer was lead off-stage before collapsing a bullet right between his eyes. You clapped your hands together, good shot, you praised before erasing all the security footage- leaving not a trace to be found.

CHAT ROOM OPENED: r0ob6^in* said: payment? now. A-%l^8e6x said: sent. good work. A-%l^8e6x said: next job? file.16937 r0ob6^in* said: will do.

You placed an order on that coat before turning off your screens and order in take-out before going for a shower and settling yourself into a set silk pyjamas and fluffy slippers.

─────── · ·

─ · · A knock sounded at your door as you went to go get your food and to your surprise there was a metal barrel awaiting you instead of a brown paper bag. You raised your hands, eyes wide and blinking, "uh you can have anything you want in the apartment! please don't hurt me!" you plead as they force their way into the space and... gently close the door behind themselves?

You blinked, one... twice... thrice in confusion, "sit" they ordered as you rapidly nodded your head and trotted your way to the living room and finding the nearest armchair while shaking like a leaf and whispering a prayer to whatever celestial entity would hear.

The tall man sits across from you, legs extended outwards and on to your rug. You did not dare look them in the face, instead playing with your hands with closed eyes wondering what they would do next. You felt the mans stare at the side of your head and across your body as they observed what you were wearing more closely, "look at me."

You took a second before raising your head and staring just past the top of their head, you prayed that the second of hesitation you took would not take your life as well. "Look at me," they demanded again as your eyes flashed down to... a young mans face? and an attractive face with that?

You tried not to let the shock and confusion come over your features but failed miserably once hearing him chuckle at you. "I've been... observing your talents from afar for awhile now, your little mission today was a surprise for me but I must thank you for deleting that footage... saved me frying their servers on my way out."

You nod, slowly, as you observe the suit the man wears and how put-together he looks for being a criminal breaking into your own home and threatening you with a gun that was still pointed in your direction. "You're welcome?" you say yet it comes out more like a question, you hear the safety of their gun click on as they place it back in the waistband of their pants. You lean back, slightly in your chair knowing that you most likely were not leaving this spot while under such a heavy stare... or at least not for awhile...

─────── · ·

─ · · When you said awhile back then... you would be surprised to know awhile meant more like over a year and not a day went but without you seeing "The Jackal" or Charles he told you to call him. He said he wished to have a camera on you when you reacted to his name for the first time, the way your lips pushed together like your eyebrows as you tested the name again and again on your tongue while picking and pointing at his face- he couldn't help but smile at your silly actions.

─ · · You had become the Jackals companion in some strange turn of events, always by his side or had him in your sights as you navigated him through building floor plans and got him onto planes quickly back to your house that had became a second home-base for him. You scoff shaking your head, your own damn burglar now holding the keys to your apartment to come and go as freely as he wanted but the Jackal never wanted you too far away from him, especially when he was completing large and dangerous missions like the one he was on right now... trying to assassinate a parliament member in London.

─ · · It was nearing Christmas time, a perfectly unsuspecting and joyous part of the year that would have your client easy to locate for you and for the Jackal- easy to target.

─ · · You waited anxiously for Charles to get back to the hotel room after providing him directions through local security cameras. You had ordered room service in preparation and held a half drank glass of red wine in your hand, swirling it around like your thoughts before setting the glass down and jumping off the bed, running down the hall at the sound of the door closing before jumping into his arms.

"Hello to you to, love," he teased you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you smiled and buried your face into his cold jacket, a shiver cascading down your spine as his large hands picked you up and carried you back to beg. You giggled, wiggling your feet with excitement once feeling him throw you onto the bed. You watched from the covers as he undressed layer after layer upon himself and his face before stripping back to the Charles you knew.

"Much better," he sighed out before crawling on the bed and towards you, capturing your lips in between his own before brushing the hair out of your face. "I see you already ordered food for two?"

"Mhmm," you hum out contently before patting the seat beside you and brining him a plate as you both talk over yet another successful mission. "Speaking of which," Charles wipes his mouth with one of the serviettes before gathering both of your empty plates and putting them on the desk within the room, "we have to check if we got payed for our hard work."

You nod watching as he bends down, reaching into his bag to pick up his laptop and glasses case as you reach for your own on the nightstand. Feeling the bed drip once again you shuffle closer to his side and hear in chuckle, "clingy are we today?"

You shrug, "Its the holidays, Charles, let your girl be," you defend yourself.

"My girl-hm?" he says back, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you look up at him through his glasses- your heart begins to race as he looks down at you, the frames slipping down his nose as you reach over to fix them for him, "thanks, love."

─────── · ·

─ · · You both work silently beside one another, double checking your finances and going over the blueprints for your next mission in Croatia... after a much needed break and beach-filled vacation you both agreed upon.

─ · · By the time you had finished your side of things, Charles was still typing away and memorizing the blueprints. You played with the material of his shirt, pressing your head to the side of the arm in a silent ask for him to give you more of his attention. "A few more minutes then I'm all yours," Charles murmurs, zooming into an air duct right above the stage.

You watched his eyes move across the dimensions, you loved picking apart every micro-expression he let flash across his features only to be gone the next moment. Catching your stare he sighed, shutting down his device and casting it to the nightstand as you placed your head in his lap feeling his fingers rake across your scalp gently- as if coaxing you to sleep.

Yet you couldn't close your eyes as you had just remembered a file that you had accessed... freely... you opened and closed your mouth, thinking about how to phrase your next words before the Jackal cut you off and you pulled your head up, "whatever you want to ask in that brilliant brain of yours- do it."

"The things is," you try and explain, failing miserably to find the right words watching as Charles's attention moves away from you, your confidence slipping before seeing a notepad and pen being presented to you. "Would it be easier to write out whats going on in here?" He clicks the pen on by shoving it against your forehead.

You glare, snatching the items away as he holds up his hands. You look between the blank page and Charles one, two, and even three times before not writing anything down. The Jackal notices you struggling, he begins to get a bit worried himself as you stand up from the bed and move away to a separate chair in the room before writing out your list of questions, hiding your face behind your knees in order to escape from his questioning stare.

"Is this... something to do with my past?" The Jackal asks, remembering the last time you acted this way a few weeks after you both formally met. You freeze solidifying his answer. "My offer still stands, whatever if is I'll answer it... if I can," he explains, watching as you sit up in the chair and look him in the eyes, "Did you... kill your platoon?"

You watch as Charles freezes before slowly reaching over to take a sip of his glass of red wine, a bead of it dripping down his chin like blood as you grip your hands together in wait. "The simple answer is yes, I did but I believe it to be in fair fashion after... they massacred a wedding."

─ · · The following story has you nauseous and partially scared as you hold yourself and don't meet his eyes that search to observe your reaction- to hear your thoughts and heart. "Come 'ere" he pats his lap before opening his arms, watching as you hesitantly stand from your chair and walk over before being pulled down into the bed and feel his strong arms wrap around your torso like a weighted blanket to soothe your anxiety.

"I hope I didn't scare you- You know I would never hurt you, love, right?" he murmurs into your shoulder before pressing a kiss to the crook of our shoulder and neck, lingering in the spot until feeling you nod your head and rest your back against his chest more comfortably, "I know. But you're different now, right? And you're my Charles... but I would also understand if you needed to kill me." You feel as the Jackal freezes, his grip tightens around you, your breath hitches before you continue to speak, "A-and If you were going to... please shoot just shoot me straight in the face... I wouldn't want to be recognized by anyone."

You close your eyes feeling as Charles slips away form behind you, the cold air of the room spreading goosebumps across your skin as a tear slips from the corner of your eye. The sudden touch of a hand bringing your chin up has you wincing, "let me see your gorgeous eyes, my love," Charles asks softly. You shake your head in his touch before feeling it strengthen, "open them, please," he asks again, this time a bit more firmly.

You slowly blink them open, watching as he tears his glasses off and cups your cheeks, rubbing the skin thoughtfully with his thumbs, "I love you," he whispers before you feel his lips against your own. You both fall backwards onto the covers, Charles holding his weight above you as you break away breathless from the kiss, "I love you too."

─────── · ·

─ · · JACKAL TAGLIST: @swiftietevitdrewjew @groovyponypatrollamp @alelo23 @apaperflowerreader

[silent-stories]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Series summary: After years of building your band’s reputation as one of the most influential in the metal scene, you and your bandmates move to Los Angeles. What you don't expect, however, is that your new neighbors are none other than Bad Omens, and that Noah is a huge fan of your band.

Series masterlist

The moment you walked into the music store, the scent of wood, metal, and leather hit you, immediately transporting you to memories from your childhood. The sound of strings being tuned, the hum of drums being tested, and the rhythmic tapping of keys filled the air, and you couldn’t help but smile.

It was like stepping into a sanctuary, the kind of place you’d lost yourself in for hours when you were younger. Back then, you used to wander between the rows of guitars, basses, drums, and amps, feeling like the world outside could wait. It was always easier to breathe in a music store. The chaos of the world seemed so much quieter when surrounded by instruments.

You took a deep breath, soaking in the atmosphere. The walls were lined with guitars—some old and worn, others gleaming with fresh paint. Amps of all sizes were stacked along one side of the store, while the percussion section was neatly organized just ahead. It was impossible not to be overwhelmed with a sense of nostalgia.

Noah, walking in beside you, caught your eye with a grin. “Looks like you enjoy this place,” he said, his voice light, but there was an understanding in his tone.

“Yeah,” you replied, running your fingers over the smooth surface of a guitar, “it takes me back."

Noah nodded, a quiet smile on his lips.

"I'm sure I'm gonna come back here often." You added.

“Well, I’m glad we’re doing this today,” Noah said, looking around. “Let’s find that drum head and those sticks, yeah?”

You nodded, already feeling that familiar thrill of being surrounded by equipment you had no real need for but wanted anyway. You led him toward the percussion section, where you found a display of drum heads. They were all neatly stacked, with each one bearing different designs, sizes, and materials.

“Okay, so Jake mentioned he needed a new drum head,” you said, scanning the selection. “And he loves his gear to look good, so we need something that'll catch his eye. He’s really into the red and black combo these days. Literally, his entire wardrobe is those colors."

Noah’s eyes lit up when he saw the perfect one. It was a deep red with a black snake designed on it. “This one. This is perfect for him. It’s bold, but not too much. And the red and black thing? It’s spot on. I don't really know him but this thing screams Jake.”

"Oh, I like this one."

“I’ve been around Folio long enough to know what looks cool,” Noah said with a shrug, grabbing the drum head off the display and holding it up in front of you. “This one’s definitely the vibe.”

He handed it to you, and as your fingers brushed his, a jolt of electricity shot through your hand, making your pulse quicken. You smiled as if nothing had happened, your mind already working on what else you needed. “Now we need the sticks.”

You walked a few feet to the stick display, where a wall of different brands and styles greeted you. You picked up a few pairs, testing their balance in your hands, feeling the weight of them.

“Red and black?” Noah asked, still standing by the drum head section.

“Yeah,” you said, tossing a pair of black sticks back onto the shelf and picking up a set with a bright red finish. “These could work.”

Noah walked over, inspecting them as he grabbed a matching pair. “They feel good. Solid grip, and the weight’s pretty spot on. They’re not too light, but not too heavy either.”

"Since when are you also a drummer?"

"Trust me, you don't want to see me play. I only know a few things."

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “I hope he's gonna like these.”

You walked to the counter, briefly talking with the cashier and then you both made your way out of the store. The late afternoon sun had dipped low in the sky, casting a soft golden hue over everything as you stepped back into the parking lot.

As you climbed into Noah’s car, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. There was something about being in a music store that always grounded you, and today, with Noah by your side, it felt even more meaningful.

He slid into the driver’s seat, tossing the keys onto the dashboard.

“Thanks for helping me pick this stuff out, Noah.”

“No problem,” Noah said, “It’s always good to help a friend."

The drive back from the record store was relaxed, the warm glow of the setting sun stretching across the road as you and Noah talked. Music hummed softly in the background, a low rhythm filling the spaces between easy conversation. The city rolled by outside the car window, but you barely noticed, too caught up in glancing at Noah from time to time.

At one point, as the playlist shifted to something slower, Noah glanced over at you, his expression curious. “You play guitar, right?”

You blinked, surprised by the question but not by the certainty in his voice—like he already knew. He was a fan, after all.

“Kind of,” you admitted with a small shrug. “Alex tried to teach me a bunch of times. He was really patient about it, but…” You grinned, “He never got far with me. I’m not exactly a natural. I'm probably better with a microphone.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “That’s not what it looked like.”

You frowned, genuinely curious. “What do you mean?”

He chuckled softly, his gaze flicking briefly to the road before returning to you. “I’ve seen you play. Acoustic sets. You did that version of Ghost a few times.”

You felt a sudden, warm flush creep up your neck. “That barely counts,” you said with a laugh. “It’s just one song. And I stopped playing it a couple of years ago.”

Noah shook his head, smirking. “Doesn’t matter. You still did it. And you didn’t look half bad doing it, either.”

You scoffed lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, well, I’d love to actually know what I’m doing someday.”

He didn’t reply, but his smile lingered, as if he knew something you didn’t. The music shifted again, the notes matching the golden haze outside, and for a while, neither of you spoke.

"Friend." That word kept echoing in his mind. He had said it so casually, without thinking twice. But now, it lingered with him.

It felt too much and not enough at the same time.

He had known you for just a little over a week, yet it felt like he had known you for years. And in some ways, maybe he had. But now that he was seeing you in person, talking and joking, everything felt so easy, so natural. It was effortless, like the two of you just fit. Like this was something that had been waiting to happen all along.

He loved the way you sang that song with him so much that he almost thought about taking a wrong turn to make the journey last longer. That song that in one way or another described you a little and that he knew he would never listen to in the same way again.

The front door creaked open, and Noah stepped inside his house, glancing around as he tossed his jacket onto the coat rack.

“Hey, already back from your date?” Nicholas asked from the couch, his legs stretched out lazily. He was lounging next to Matt, who was looking at his phone, but as soon as Noah closed the door behing him, his attention was on Noah.

Noah ran a hand through his hair, feeling the warmth rush to his cheeks. “It wasn’t a date,” he replied, trying to brush it off as casually as possible.

“Right, it wasn’t a date,” Matt chimed in “But you sure would’ve liked it to be.”

Noah shot him a quick glare, but his heart beat just a little faster at the idea. He didn��t want to think about that right now.

“We’re just friends,” he said firmly, hoping that would put an end to the conversation. But his voice faltered slightly.

“Yeah, you’re just friends…” Nicholas smirked, “But you sure as hell want it to be more than that, don’t you?”

Noah exhaled sharply, his brow furrowing as he leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling a little cornered by their teasing.  “Hey, you two. Did you just team up against me or something?”

Nick chuckled softly. “I’m just saying,” he said, his tone light but laced with amusement, “you don’t come home with a smile on your face like that after spending time with a girl unless you’re really feeling something. And this hasn't happened in a long time.”

Noah paused. He knew what they were saying was true. He did feel something. Something he couldn’t quite put into words. It was too early for him to even figure it out, but there was no denying the way his pulse quickened whenever you laughed, the way his thoughts lingered on every conversation you had. The way he’d caught himself smiling after the drive back even if none of you was speaking.

But there was also the fact that you’d only just moved to LA. You were still getting settled, still figuring things out. He couldn’t assume anything, especially not after just one week. Besides, you had been nothing but kind to him, offering your company, your time—just as a friend. You didn’t give any indication that you felt the same way.

“She just moved here, you know? She’s probably just being nice, trying to make some friends. I don’t want to mess that up.”

As Noah moved toward the kitchen, he heard Nicholas mumble, “Dumbass,” under his breath, and Noah couldn’t help but shake his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t ready to admit anything, not even to himself—and for now, he’d take it slow.

You took a deep breath as you climbed the stairs, still holding the bags in your hands. You entered your room and set the items down on your bed. First, you carefully unpacked the drum head, the red snake design standing out vividly against the plain brown wrapping paper. It was perfect for Jake, and you couldn’t wait to see his reaction.

You set it aside before moving on to the sticks. They felt solid, the red finish a nice complement to the rest of the gift. You placed them neatly next to the drum head, the items now ready to be wrapped.

Once everything was in order, you headed downstairs, hoping to get some rest before you had to start working on the shirt designs again. As you entered the living room, you spotted Alex lounging on the couch, his usual smirk in place as he glanced up from his phone.

"So," he started, his voice teasing, "What did you do today? Besides, you know, buying gifts for our lovely drummer?"

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you took a seat on the armrest of the couch. "I just went out with Noah," you said, trying to keep your tone casual. "We went to a music store to pick up some things for Jake's birthday."

Alex’s eyes lit up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Oh, so you and Noah spent the day together, huh?" he teased, leaning forward slightly. "Was it a… fun outing?" He dragged the words out, clearly enjoying how the situation sounded.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. "It was just a trip to the store, Alex," you said, trying to play it off as no big deal. "He was just being kind, helping me pick out the right stuff for Jake."

Alex’s grin widened, clearly not buying it. "Uh-huh, sure. Just 'helping' you out. Look at you, getting all cozy with the neighbor." He leaned back against the couch, still smirking.

You shook your head, laughing lightly. "It’s not like that," you insisted. "We’re just friends. He’s just a nice guy, and I needed help picking out some gifts. That's all."

Alex raised an eyebrow, his teasing tone never faltering. "Friends, huh?" he said, dragging out the word.

You shot him a playful glare, not willing to admit anything. "I swear, you’re impossible," you said, standing up from the couch. "It’s literally nothing. We just went out to get some stuff for Jake’s birthday. End of story. I don't like him that way."

Alex chuckled softly, clearly enjoying teasing you. "Sure, sure. If you say so."

"Alright, enough," you said, rolling your eyes. "Now that I’ve dealt with your teasing, I’m gonna work on the merch. In my room. Alone."

You heard the blonde's laughter follow you until you closed the door behind you.

In the following days, things passed by in a calm, pleasant rhythm. You spent a few afternoons wandering around Los Angeles with Sam, Jake and William, exploring the city in ways that felt both casual and exciting. One afternoon, you strolled through Melrose Avenue, checking out the cool, vintage stores that lined the street.

There was this one shop, Wasteland, that had the most amazing collection of secondhand leather jackets and band tees from decades past. You spent a good chunk of time browsing through the racks, finding the occasional gem, and laughing at some of the ridiculous fashion choices from the ‘80s that seemed to make their way back in style.

Another day, you went to The Last Bookstore in downtown LA. The towering shelves of books, the hidden nooks, and the whimsical vibe of the place were exactly the kind of escape you craved when the city felt a little overwhelming. Sam had picked up a graphic novel while William flipped through a music history book, but you found yourself drawn to the vinyl section, running your fingers over the old records with a soft smile. It was a little treasure trove, tucked away in the heart of the city, and you found a kind of peace there among the pages and music.

As you walked through these different parts of the city, you were starting to notice something. More and more often, people would recognize you—fans of the band, or sometimes just music lovers who happened to spot you. It wasn’t something you had ever been used to, but it was happening now, and you couldn’t help but feel a little thrill every time someone would call out your name.

It would start with a hesitant wave, and then someone would ask, “Hey, are you Y/N from Dark Waves?” Or “Are you a singer?” And before you knew it, you’d end up posing for a selfie, or signing a quick autograph, exchanging a few words with a fan. It was always brief, always pleasant, but it made you feel something inside, like you were on the right path.

It was a little surreal, honestly. Growing up, you never really expected to be recognized in places like this—walking through crowded streets, sitting in cafes, or shopping in quirky stores. Yet there you were, in LA, where it seemed like everyone had a chance to run into someone they admired. Each time someone approached you, you felt a deep sense of gratitude. It reminded you of how far you’d come, of the countless hours spent working on music and building your career, and most importantly, it reminded you of the people who had helped get you to where you were now—your fans.

They were the reason you were living this life, the reason you had the privilege of playing music for a living. They were the ones who had supported Dark Waves through everything, and now, it was starting to feel real. You weren’t just in the band anymore—you were part of something much bigger, something that had a life of its own.

You had continued your routine of leaving food for the stray cat, just outside your garden. Every morning, without fail, the food would be gone, and you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction knowing the cat was eating. There was something comforting about it, even though you didn’t know much about the cat or its life. You just hoped that, at least for a while, it could count on the food you left out.

One night, as you sat on the couch, flipping through your phone, you heard a noise outside. It was faint at first, just a soft rustling, but it was enough to catch your attention. You froze, listening, and then the sound came again—louder this time. It was as if something had knocked into something else. Curious, you stood up, slipping into your comfortable hoodie to shield yourself from the chill of the night air, and made your way toward the door.

You stepped outside, the darkness of the night surrounding you. The street was quiet, save for the occasional distant car or the rustling of leaves in the wind. Your garden was still, and the only thing that seemed out of place was a small vase that had been knocked over by something. Your gaze darted toward it, and that’s when you saw him.

The orange cat, the one Noah had talked about, was there, darting away from the mess it had caused. His fur was a bit scruffy, and he looked thin—almost gaunt, as though he hadn’t been eating enough. There were patches of dirt on his fur, and his eyes darted nervously, as if he were expecting someone to chase him away. He was hungry. You could tell. And he looked like he hadn’t had an easy time of it.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, calling out softly to him. “Hey, it’s okay. Come here.” You crouched down, hoping to show him you meant no harm, that you just wanted to help. But before you could even take another step, the cat whipped around and bolted, darting across your yard toward the fence that separated your garden from the next.

“Hey!” you called after him, instinctively trying to catch up. “It’s okay, come back.” But your words fell on deaf ears. In the blink of an eye, the orange cat had jumped up and over the low brick wall separating your yard from the neighboring house—the one you’d started calling "Omens house". You watched helplessly as he disappeared behind a little brick wall in the corner of their garden.

Just as you were about to turn back toward your house, a low creak behind you made you jump. You spun around, heart thudding, to see the door of the Omens house opening slightly. Standing there, bathed in the soft glow of the porch light, was Noah. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, his voice thick with sleep as he drawled, “Are you trying to break in and rob us, or…?”

His long hair was a tousled mess, falling in loose waves over his shoulders, and his t-shirt hung rumpled, like he had been asleep minutes ago. His eyes, heavy with sleep but laced with amusement, regarded you with a sleepy kind of curiosity. The sight of him—barefoot except for a pair of ridiculous flip-flops with fake green grass covering the soles—almost made you burst out laughing.

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “No, no robbery plans tonight, I swear.” You gestured behind you toward the wall. “The cat—the orange one you told me about. He was in my yard, knocked over a vase, and when I tried to calm him down, he jumped into your garden.”

Noah chuckled, stepping closer until only the iron bars of the gate separated you. He squinted toward the wall you pointed at, as if expecting the cat to appear just because he was looking. “Yeah, he does that. Skittish little guy. He’ll come out when he’s ready. He always does.”

His calm certainty made you smile, but your eyes drifted down. You couldn’t resist. You pointed to his feet, your lips twitching. “I'm sorry. Are you seriously wearing those? And you call me 'weirdo'?”

Noah followed your gaze, then shrugged unapologetically, a slow, crooked grin spreading across his face. “Hey, these are genius. Every day is a walk in the park. Literally.”

You pressed a hand to your mouth, but it didn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, pointing at his flip-flops like they were proof of a crime. “Who even buys those?”

“I do,” he said, unfazed. He stepped back, making a grand show of spinning around like he was modeling high fashion. “Jealous? Don’t lie. You wish you had a pair.”

“Yeah, sure,” you managed, shaking your head.

His grin lingered as he rested his arms on the top of the gate, leaning slightly closer. “But about the cat, you’re doing good leaving food out. He’ll come around. He just needs time.”

“I hope so,” you murmured, your voice quieter now. “He looked so hungry tonight. I just…” You trailed off, unsure how to put the thought into words.

Noah’s expression softened, his voice warm. “Who would’ve guessed the singer of Dark Waves had a soft heart?”

You shot him a look, a grin tugging at your lips. “Who would’ve guessed the singer of Bad Omens walks around in grass flip-flops?”

His smile broke wide, laughter rich and easy. “Touché.”

For a moment, you stood there, the silence between you comfortable. The night pressed darkly around you, but the small pool of light from the porch seemed to hold you both in a world of your own. His hair framed his face in messy locks, and even though he was standing there in grass flip-flops with sleepy eyes, you couldn’t help noticing how pretty he was. It was ridiculous, really, but undeniable—effortless in a way that made your breath catch.

He yawned, a soft, lazy grin still lingering. “Well, goodnight, weirdo.”

You smiled back, feeling lighter. “Goodnight, nerd. Try not to trip on your lawn shoes.”

He blinked, a laugh bubbling up again. “Nerd?"

“If you keep calling me weirdo, I’m going to keep calling you nerd. Those are the rules.”

“Those aren’t real rules.”

“They are now,” you said with a satisfied shrug.

"Alright," He let out one more laugh, and as you turned away, the warmth of his voice lingered long after you reached your door. In the dark, even with the ridiculous flip-flops, he looked unfairly pretty.

The late afternoon sun was dipping low as you walked with Jake to the familiar front door of Noah's house.

You found the gate ajar and Jake didn't even hesitate when he pushed it open, entering their garden.

"This is the right time they report us for invasion of private property." You muttered, following him.

Moments later, the door swung open, revealing Jolly. His tall frame filled the doorway, and his eyes flicked between you and Jake with mild curiosity. He tilted his head slightly, offering a polite, if subdued, smile. "Hey guys."

Jake grinned. "Hey, man. We came over to invite you guys to something. Got a minute?"

Before Jolly could reply, footsteps sounded behind him, and then Noah appeared in the doorway. His eyes landed on you, and for a second, it was like there was just the two of you. He leaned against the frame, his long hair falling loosely over his shoulders. His gaze was soft as he took you in.

“Hi,” he said simply, his voice low, almost intimate.

“Hey,” you responded, a smile tugging at your lips.

Jake’s eyes darted between the two of you, a slow, exaggerated sigh escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes skyward.

“Anyway,” he said loudly, breaking the moment, “I’m having a thing at our place Wednesday night. My birthday. Nothing big, just drinks and hanging out. You guys should come by.”

Jolly exchanged a glance with Noah, then nodded. “Sounds good.”

“You don’t need to bring anything,” Jake added. “Just yourselves. And Folio. You have to bring Folio. It’s just for fun, get to know each other, have a few drinks.”

Noah’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “We’ll let the others know. But yeah, I’m in.”

Jolly nodded. “Same here.”

“Awesome,” Jake said, clapping his hands together. “It’ll be good to chill.”

The conversation lingered just a moment longer and as you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel Noah’s gaze follow you until the door finally shut behind him.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog

WTMS Tags: @rumoured-whispers @klutzy-kay24 @concretejunglefm @thecoyotescry @kenjipepsi1 @amelia-acero @xxkittenkissesxx @moostress19 @respectfulrebel @super-btstrash-posts

[ihavethedreamies]

Heat | Wonwoo [NSFW]

Jeon Wonwoo - Seventeen

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~8.5k

Pairing: Wonwoo x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Sci-Fi AU!, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Acquaintances-to-Lovers, This One Actually Has Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Minor Background Character Gets Shot (Wow! Plot), Pet Names (Pretty, Pretty Girl, Princess, etc.), Daddy Kink (oops), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Wall Sex, Marking/Biting, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom!)

Author's Note: This one has way more actual story than Hoshi's and Woozi's. Wonwoo tends to need time to warm up to people, so I didn't feel like I should do a quick one-night stand deal with him. So, I wrote in some story so he and the reader weren't total strangers.

-> Series Hub <-

-> Hoshi's <-

-> Woozi's <-

-> S.Coup's <-

Revised (1/30/25)

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

"You have GOT to be kidding me…" You grumble, huffing a few harsh breaths, and trying again. There’s something stuck under the sand, and you really want to see if it’s worth anything. However, every time you get close to brushing enough sand from the surface to see the logo, a gust of wind covers it back up again. Adjusting your head covering over your mouth again so won’t sand in your mouth, you also brush off your goggles of the fine particles sticking to it. You’re starting to work up a sweat, the blowing dust and sand mixes with the perspiration and coats you in a horribly scratchy paste. Whatever is under the sand is big, and that’s what you’re looking for. However, you really need to determine the make and model of the crashed ship to determine if it’s worth reporting for salvage.

"Finally!" You groan, getting the metal brushed clean. You quickly snap a photo with your holo-tracker, the blue paint still relatively solid, enough to identify. The device spins, trying to connect to the extranet and you click your tongue as it takes for seemingly forever.

"What?!" You swear multiple times when the device flashes, 'no results found’. Maybe you can show it to someone at the Assembly office that’ll know something. You already have a few pictures and coordinates of a few smaller wrecks you can report, but they probably won’t grant very many credits. This thing is huge though, so at least the scrap metal will be worth something. Another blast of wind nearly knocks you over as you stand back up, trying to climb out of the small crater to get back to your rover. The crappy thing about wrecks on Sierra-Vector-Tango, since the entire planet is a desert, is that they’re quickly covered by sand; even if they create massive craters when they fall to the surface. However, that means more money for finding salvage than some other planets. Bad thing? Sand worms. Their saliva gets into the particles and can make it acidic, which makes digging through the sand more dangerous. This, once again, causes the number of credits to be higher.

"Let’s go back for now." You jerk back with your entire body weight as you pull the handle for the door of your rover. It finally opens and you huff, throwing the end of your head scarf aggressively to wrap it around your neck better. Crawling up and into your rover, you rest back in the seat, trying to catch your breath.  Pressing the button to start the vehicle it roars to life and the air conditioning flares to life and you just sit in the cooling air for a few minutes.

"Water!" You gasp dramatically, grabbing your canteen from the passenger seat, and drinking so aggressively the liquid spills out of your mouth some.

"For fuck's sake…" You groan hard, the water mixing with the layer of sand on your skin, thickening it.

"I need a real shower, with water." Shifting the gear of the rover, you start to drive back to the main road so you can start heading to the nearest Assembly office. It’ll be about an hour to Drent, and a little under two for Jaron, but you really don’t like going to Drent. Not only does it have the name of some dude-bro fuck boy, but it’s also full of them too. Drent has one of the biggest…adult establishments in that quadrant. Not only do they have sexy blue alien ladies dancing on tables, but it also allows you to sleep with them. Last time you went you nearly got mugged, and the guy just wanted your underwear. No thank you. Jaron is farther away, but a much nicer place and has a very old-style diner reminiscent of Terra from the 1950s. It’s cool to go somewhere that’s reminiscent of a time over two-hundred years in the past. Plus, they have a hotel with real water showers instead of the air-blasting kind that’s more common. It’ll be more expensive, but worth it.

"This time I wanna rock with you~" You sang along to the song playing over the speakers, drumming your hands on the steering wheel of your rover as you get back to the main road. Turning right to go north toward Jaron, you set the autopilot on and plug in the town, sitting back to watch the view as your rover drives itself. When you can start to see the sign for the town, you shut the auto-drive off and take control again. Large vehicles like yours aren’t allowed in the city proper, so when you reach the entry checkpoint, you pull off to the side and get out. The sun is setting, nearly below the horizon, stars starting to twinkle in the night sky. Getting out of the rover, you slam the door as hard as you can to get it to shut and go around to the back. Grabbing your big pack and smaller bag, you also have a make-shift safe that you keep smaller salvage pieces in. You let it fall to the sandy ground with a thud and jump back out. Keying in the code on the side, the rover beeps as it locks, and you head to the entry booth.

"How old is your rover?" The kid at the booth is at the most eighteen, and his condescending tone is completely unnecessary.

"Doesn't matter." You try not to sneer, slapping your credit chit on the counter and he slots it into the console. He really has no room to talk, his setup is just as old if not more so than you rover. Sliding the chit back out, he grab a small holo-disc and lets the machine stamp it with the time and date.

"Thank you." You emphasize with fake kindness, and he rolls his eyes as he lets you into the town. You let the parking disc fall into your bag along with your credit chit and start to head down the road. Your 'safe' is basically a suitcase that you made more secure and added a few locks to, so you can roll it behind you. The wheels thunk over the creases of the pavement and you wonder why the town is so dead. At that time, most people would be milling about after supper and going to bars and such. As you pass a store, you see a sign blinking on the glass advertising some kind of political rally, must be where everyone is at. At least the hotel is still being manned, though you aren’t sure the old man behind the counter is even still alive.

"Hello, dearie." He smiles up at you, wrinkles so prominent his eyes nearly disappear.

"Hello, sir. Can I get a single room for…" You think, sucking air through the side of your mouth in thought, "how much is four nights?"

"At 250 credits a night, that’ll be about a thousand…If you stay one more night, I will keep it that price?"

"Sweet! Thanks!" You smile back, digging through your bag to look for the chit once again. It’s a bit pricier than you normally like, but it’s worth it to get a shower with water.

"A single bed, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"I think we only have two-bed rooms…this one is two singles, does that work?"

"Sure!"

"Water shower?"

"Please~" You groan, and he chuckles.

"It’s quite slow today for the rally, so I do not think any restaurants are delivering…" The old man works faster than you thought he would and when he slides the chit back to you, he includes the room key. It looks like a glass playing card and has the room 24H-13 on it.

"It’ll be the second floor, take a right to the fourth hall, then its room thirteen." The old man smiles, and you thank him, heading for the elevator, the wheels whirling on the tile floor. Once you get to the room and inside, you put everything in the room hastily before dashing into the bathroom. After relieving yourself, you shed the extremely sandy clothes, and you notice what looks like an old-style clothes dryer in the corner. It only has two settings, one of which is covered with a piece of tape and the handwritten words, ‘FOR SAND,' on it.

"Perfect." You shrug and shove all of your clothes in the drum, shutting the door, and letting it spin and get rid of the dust and grit.

"Oh~" You hum in delight when you see the water heating panel on the wall. You plug in the best temperature and the water immediately comes out perfect. Standing under the spray, you stand for nearly ten minutes just letting the water flow over your tired body. Glancing up at the shower head, you click your tongue in annoyance, it’s fixed on the wall without a hose…

"Need to find a guy…" you grumble and then proceed to actually wash up. The soaps and cleansers all smell of Terra fruits and you wonder what they might taste like. Getting out of the shower nearly an hour later, you wrap a towel around yourself and your hair, heading back to the main room of the hotel. Flopping onto the bed, your stomach rumbles loudly, and you sigh dramatically. No delivery…The only place that’s probably open is the diner and luckily it’s right next door to the Assembly office in the strip mall. It’s always open since the employees of the Assembly will eat there most of the time, but they never deliver anyway. When your skin finally no longer feels wet or sticky, you put on your set of spare clothes and grab your smaller bag.

"Sandy." you mumble, going back to the bathroom, taking your now sand-free clothes out. Taking everything out of your bag and setting it on top of the machine, you put your bag in to get the sand off and while you wait, putting your boots back on. As it continues, you brush your hair out and braid it again. Looking at your face, you have a slight tan line from your goggles, but it’s nearly unnoticeable thanks to your head scarf covering most of the rest of your face. The machine dings and you retrieve the satchel, putting everything back and making sure you have your chit and keycard, you leave the hotel room to go get dinner. Waving to the old man at the desk, you dash out to the street and jog down the sidewalk. The rally is still going, you can hear the shouting and cheers in the distance. Must be a more local election or campaign because you don’t recognize the politician on the flyer. Most of the store fronts are closed, even as you turn the corner to get to the main street. In the distance, you see the light pouring out of the windows of the Assembly office and the diner, shining like a beacon among the darkened stores surrounding it. Like a good child, you look both ways before you cross the road, despite there not being anything or anyone nearby. The doors slide open when you approach the office and the guy behind the counter looks up lazily from where he’s counting something at the desk.

"Can I help you?" He sounds very tired. You dig in your bag once again and pull out your credit chit as well as your ID so he can see you’re a legit scavenger, but also a freelancer. Freelancers actually tend to gets more money than their own employees because they don’t have to pay benefits and all that other stuff.

"I'll let the Salvage Officer know you're here." The guy hands you your stuff back and you go to sit in the empty waiting area. Tapping your toe on the floor, you look into the entrance of the diner through the windows and door inside the office. There’s only one or two customers inside and just one waitress. There’s a guy sitting in the back corner, thin glasses perched on the end of his nose as he read. A paper book? Who has physical books anymore?

"(Y/N)." Your name is called by a familiar voice, and you smile at the owner.

"Junmyeon!" He motions with his head, and you follow him into his personal office.

"Didn’t know you’re working here now." You sit in front of his desk, and he chuckles, relaxing back into his office chair.

"I just transferred. What have you found?" He takes the holo-tracker from you when you hand it over and plugs it into his console.

"Most of them are small…" You dimple the corner of your mouth, looking at the monitor the best you can from your angle. He shifts the screen so you can see better, and you point to different marks and give more details.

"What one is this?" He’s looking at the blue logo and you shrug.

"I have no idea; it’s huge though. Looks like a Meteor-class size ship, maybe bigger. It’s totally covered and left a huge crater." You emphasize with hand motions, and he pans the picture out to get the measurements before he taps the logo so the computer can analyze it. As it spins you dig through your bag, looking to see if you have lip balm or something. You don’t notice your business friend simply watching you, more like staring. His eyes flash to your lips as you paint the balm on your lips with your ring finger. When the console dings, it brings both of your attention back to the machine.

"Oh, wow." He leans in to read the information.

"I need to make some calls, can you come back in a few hours?" He looks at you and you nod, standing.

"I can grab something to eat in the meantime!" You wave goodbye and don’t even notice when he tries to calls after you. Heading back to the front of the office, you go to the door leading to the diner and the door slides open with a ding.

"Just you, girlie?" The older waitress calls from behind the counter, and you nod, going to sit at said counter.

"What can I get for you?" she asks, sassily chewing her gum. You look over the menu and make your choice, pulling out your holo-tracker to play a game as you wait for your food. You glance over to the back corner over your shoulder, looking at the guy reading.

"Who is that?" you ask the waitress when she comes back with your drink.

"He's been hanging around here for a few days. I'm not sure what he's doing, but I know he's waiting for something. The secretary in the office might know." She nods back to where you had been, and you tell her you’ll be right back. Leaving your bag on your stool to save your spot, you jog back into the office and the guy at the desk casts you a tired glance.

"Who is that guy?" You point toward the back corner, leaning your elbows on the ledge of the front desk.

"He's a bounty hunter of some sort I believe. He’s looking for someone for some reason, and is waiting there for leads. He's offering money for any information." He shrugs and you nod in acknowledgement and head back to the eatery. Your food is ready by the time you get back, and the waitress chuckles at how fast you shovel it in. When you’re done, you hand her your chit and meander on over to the guy.

"I heard you're looking for someone?" You start casually and he looks up at you over his glasses and your eyes widen. He’s freaking gorgeous. His left eye is highlighted red, it seems he has some kind of hologram-like contact in it or something. His black hair is styled half up, his bangs resting over his brow. He’s got a few ear piercings, his left nostril has a simple loop ring, and a matching one in the middle of his bottom lip. A chain hangs around his neck with a pendant on the end that’s some kind of upside-down triangle design. He simply hums in response and puts a slip of paper in his book and shuts it, taking his glasses off. You sit on the end of the booth, a big gap between the two of you since he’s sitting in the corner of the circular seat. He slides his holo-tracker across the table showing you a blurry image from some kind of security feed. It’s a person, that’s about all you can tell, and they have a hood up over their head and only the bottom part of their face is visible.

"This it?" You look back at him, and he’s sitting there stiffly, just looking at you. He’s really hot, actually. He has a tan, old-style button up on with the top few buttons undone. His pants are a brown leather of some kind, and he’s got a belt on with an attached thigh-holster that holds a pistol blaster.

"They stole some schematics. I need them back more than to find the person." He taps the screen as he looks at it upside down and it shows a second image. The person has a cylinder with a strap hang over their back.

"It’s a set of old maps, they were stolen from the archives at the museum in the Capital." he explains, and you slide your finger over the full image, zooming out to see the area.

"You a bounty hunter?" You slide the holo-tracker back to him and he puts it back in his pocket.

"Not really. I'm a Ranger."

"You're a Ranger!?" You perk up and he seems taken aback by your sudden excitement. Rangers are a small and elite group, they’re essentially vigilantes, freelancers. They tend to do more things like rescues or arrests, or other odd jobs. They have a pretty strict rule of not killing.

"So, you want the maps but don't need the thief?"

"Yes. It would be nice to get both, though."

"Hm. I'll ask around and see, I travel quite a bit-"

"Scavenger?"

"Y-yeah." You chuckle nervously under his intense gaze.

"Be careful out there, if you get a lead, message me." He gets his tracker back out and you scanned his with yours to save his ID.

"What's your name?" you ask.

"Wonwoo…"

"(Y/N)." You smile and get up from the booth, going to retrieve your chit.

"I'll let you know!" You grin and wave goodbye, heading back in. Your timing is perfect because Junmyeon is finished and he tells you the first wrecks aren’t worth a whole lot, but the last one is.

"Two million credits?!" You balk at the number.

"Yeah. Seems it was some kind of cargo vessel, and they think it might still have all of the packages on it still. You can get even more depending on what's inside." He smiles at your gawk, and you finally shut your mouth.

"Woah..."

"I can get you the two million now-"

"Really!?"

"Yes." He chuckles and you dig your chit back out and he slides it into the console so he can transfer the credits.

"Shit…" you whisper, your hand shaking a bit as you take the chit back.

"Are…you staying in a hotel tonight?" Junmyeon asks as you scroll on your holo-tracker, admiring the giant number registered in your account.

"Yeah! I might upgrade my room~" You giggle, and he takes a breath, trying to psych himself up, but no words come out before you stand to leave.

"Thanks, Myeon! I'll make sure to come here when I can, kay?" You wave goodbye and he sighs as you dash out of his office. As you leave to head back to your hotel, you see that Wonwoo has left his booth, and you wonder why. Getting outside, you realize the rally has gotten out, floods of people now walking the streets, a big crowd heading toward the diner.

"Ew." You sneer at the globs of people and dash back to the hotel. When you get in the lobby, you skip up to the front counter, ready to ding the bell and call the nice old man out for assistance.

"Oh?" Someone is sitting in the lobby, a book in his hand.

"Run away from all the people?" You speak a bit louder so he can hear you and he glances up over his glasses again. His face isn’t quite as cold as before, but he isn’t smiling either.

"Yes." His tone is also lighter.

"There's about to be a bunch more. The campaign team is staying here and will be back soon." The old man comes out of the office, and you sneer as he laughs.

"Are you staying here too?" you ask Wonwoo who puts his book away and takes his glasses off.

"I hadn't checked in yet."

"We don’t have any more rooms available, sir. We just had an influx of online reservations since the rally got out so late…" The old man sighs, and you hum.

"I have a second single bed in my room…?" You suggest not meeting his eye as he comes to stand by you. He has a small duffle over his shoulder. His eyes finally meet yours, and he seems a little nervous, but you can only see it in his eyes, past that red glowing contact.

"Is that alright with you?"

"Yes? I wouldn’t have offered otherwise…" You huff and the old man hums.

"Here, I will get you a key as well." You both wait and when Wonwoo receives the clear keycard, you both scurry to elevator, people starting to enter the lobby. Neither of you say anything till you shut the door to the hotel room.

"Are you sure this is okay?" you ask him, he’s even stiffer than before.

"Y-yes." He clears his throat, and he goes further into the room, taking the bed near the window since your stuff is on the other one. He tells you he’s going to shower, and you nod as he dashes past you. Sighing, you shake away some very impure thoughts, and go to your safe, rolling it over to the bench under the clothing rack and hauling it up onto it with a grunt. It takes two physical keys as well as two padlocks and a dial lock. You click each one open and then you’re able to open it. The air seal 'shunks' as you open it, and you carefully rest the lid on the wall so it won’t scratch it. Looking over your objects, you have some small crystal-like artifacts that you’re worried just fakes from some kind of gift shop. You also have some intact parts for ship consoles and even jewelry. There had been just a random case you found washed up on the shore of an oasis once that had gold and silver necklaces and rings inside. It’s never reported missing, so you just kept them. Other bits and pieces are inside as well, and your mind goes back to the image Wonwoo had shown you. The hood was what caught your eye. The person was experienced, knowing how to hide their face from all angles, so they’re probably an experienced thief. Who would want ancient maps though? Especially from Terra.

"What is all that?" His deep voice startles you; you hadn’t even heard the bathroom door open. Glancing up, you swallow hard at the sight. He’s put most of his clothes back on, but his shirt is still unbuttoned, allowing you to see his toned torso. He’s flops a towel onto his head to dry his hair and puts his glasses back on. Trying to ignore how freaking sexy he is, you clear your throat and start to point things out. When you get to the crystals, you let him pick up the one that’s shaped like a pyramid.

"I don’t know if they’re worth anything, they might be fakes.”

"Have you shone light through them?" he asks, and you hadn't even thought of it.

"No?" He hands it back and you dig through your bag and find your flashlight, holding it to the crystal.

"Woah!" You gasp as a map of the stars shines on the ceiling as the light passes through the crystal.

"Is it worth anything?" you ask him. It’s cool but could still theoretically be from a gift shop.

"The fakes have a button to turn on the light, that's the real deal. Where did you find them?" He’s buttoning his shirt up, unfortunately, picking up the three other crystals and coming to sit on his bed across from you. There’s a sphere, one that looks like a big diamond and an obelisk. You hand him the flashlight and he shines it through the other ones. The sphere shows a projection of a globe, but it isn’t S.V.T or even Terra.

"Mars." he mutters, and you look closer, recognizing the small dots over the surface as the towers that hold the barrier around the planet. The diamond one lights up a bright aqua blue, but that seems to be all it does. The obelisk projects the time and date, but it seems to be from Mars as well.

"I found them in some cave. How the did does they get all the way out here?"

"Were these the only things in the cave?"

"Yeah…So even though they’re legit, are they worth anything?

"Hm. Maybe to a collector. I can take them to the museum when I go back-" he halts, "If you're okay with it, I'll pay you back." If he wasn’t a Ranger, you’d be more hesitant to allow it, because he could just pocket the money. You don’t think he would though, not with the reputation of his group at stake otherwise.

"Sure." You shrug and he takes them and puts them in his own pack, and you go back to your safe and lock it up.

"Thank you for letting me stay here." He calls suddenly as you try to figure out how the holo-screen works and what channels there are.

"Sure. I'm not a fan of big groups of people either and this is the best hotel in town." You smile at him, going to hand him the remote.

"Oh, no, you can choose. I'll just read." You nod and don’t press to continue the conversation. While it’s quiet between you two, it’s companionable and before you know it, you have drifted off the sleep, listening to some show and the flipping of his book pages. When you awake, he’s gone, but it’s like ten in the morning, and there’s an unread message on your holo-tracker.

Sorry I left without saying goodbye. Thank you for letting me stay in your room for the night. I am heading back to the capital for now and will get your crystal projectors estimated. Please let me know if you get any leads on the map thief.  - Wonwoo

You sigh, a little disappointed he just left, but he seems quite shy and closed off. Whatever. For the rest of the day and the next few you laze about and do some fun things to spoil yourself after your big payout, enjoying your little vacation. Over the week afterwards you’re having trouble finding anything significant and have stopped at a small tavern set up near a small oasis. You sit at the bar, laying on it dramatically. The bartender has moved the fan closer to you so it could blow straight on you as you lazily sip from the straw in your fruity drink. You glance casually at the entrance when another person enters, and you zero in on their face. They have a hood on, but that doesn’t mean it’s for sure the person Wonwoo had been looking for. After he got the money from the crystals, more than you thought but not a huge amount, he’s sent you more information. It was a woman, presumably, and she’s pretty tall and even always wears heeled boots. Your gaze shifts to their feet but can’t see for sure and you can’t even tell it’s a woman. You and Wonwoo have actually been messaging some even past leads on the thief. You don’t have many friends and while he has the other rangers, he says it’s nice to talk to someone new. As you sit at the bar, you watch her, pretending you aren’t. You casually take out your holo-tracker and take a picture of the person as discreetly as you can, then head out. You continue to wait and watch in your rover, ready to take a picture of their vehicle when they leave. You think you know which one it is, but don’t know for sure, so you wait till they come back out. They get in the one you’d been eyeing, and so once they head off, you send the two pictures and a few more details to Wonwoo. He thanks you for the update, then asks where you are. He then tells you to meet him in the next town of Falko, and since you’re headed there anyway…

~

The town is much smaller than Jaron, so there’s only one small motel, so it’s easy to find where he is and get to his room. He’s on the first floor in room three. You knock and barely wait before he opens it. He’s…smiling. You didn’t know he could do that. You forgot how gorgeous he is.

"T-thanks." You smile bashfully and follow him inside. It seems he’s been there awhile based on everything spread out across the room. There are a few consoles set up as well as tablets and other tech.

"What's going on in here?" You motion around the room.

"While I'm looking for the map thief, I'm also trying to get the Ranger's new communication array set up. I'm making the program myself so it can't be hacked by outside sources." Wonwoo shrugs, moving various tablets from one of the beds so you can sit down. He sits at the small desk and turns to face you. He asks a few questions about the person you saw, and you give him more details from the pictures. It wasn’t a whole lot to go on, but if it is them, then he now has their vehicle information. Before you can talk past leads on the thief, his holo-tracker goes off and he read the message. He sighs.

"What's wrong?"

"My partner is coming back. It might be better if you leave." He stands to lead you out and you grimace.

"I-It's not…I just don’t want him to meet you…" He mumbles and you want to press the issue. His cheeks are slightly red, and he flashes another genuine smile as you leave the motel room.

"I'll let you know if the lead pans out." You nod and before you can turn and leave, he’s holds something out for you.

"What's this?" You take the little holo-card.

"Um…it's my address. If you are ever in Ratalla…I won’t be back home for a few more days, but I should be working from there after…" Wonwoo rubs his hands on his pants, then shoves his hands in his pockets when you notice.

"Thanks." You give him your own smile, then leave giddily.

~θωθ~

Nearly another month passes before you see him in person again, but you’ve messaged back and forth quite a lot. There was once you were near his hometown, but he wasn’t there, so you missed the chance of seeing him again.

You’re currently meeting with a repair man in a city called Guro; your rover hasn’t been driving straight. It seems he’ll need it for a few days to even determine the issue, let alone what to do after. At least you’re in a place with lots of activities. You had actually gotten another half a million credits from the giant wreck you found and had more funds than you know what to do with. As you leave the shop, looking up on the extranet for the nicest hotel, someone catches your eye. Despite the heat of the desert and the midday sun, there’s someone slinking around with a hood on. You watch them, eyes glancing at their feet. Heeled boots. It’s also a woman, and her height matches the parameters. There’s even a cylinder vessel hanging over her shoulder. It’s her. The area has mostly warehouses, and she might be meeting a buyer, so you decide to follow her. You send Wonwoo a message with your coordinates to see if he can send someone by as well, or better yet, call some Guards. You trot behind her, trying to stay out of sight and remain quiet. Hiding quickly around the corner, you watch her go into an unmarked warehouse after looking around for followers. Not well enough. The thief goes in through a large open garage door, so it makes it easy for you to follow. Crouching against the wall right near the edge of the door you peer around the corner and see she’s alone, probably waiting for someone. She glances at her holo-tracker, then goes further in, toward the garage door on the opposite side that opens to a scrap yard. Looking for another hiding place, you dash forward and hide behind a column. When you peer around though, she’s gone.

"Why are you following me?" A voice calls from behind you, and you spin to see the thief, holding a pistol blaster aimed at you. Your heart falls and sweat breaks out on your brow. Those maps must be really valuable if this person is willing to shoot you to prevent the interruption of the hand-off.

"I-I was just trying to figure out who-" The woman pulls back the hammer on the weapon and your stomach drops.

"Shit!" You scramble up and try to at least get around the column when you see her finger going to the trigger.

"Fuck!" You slam your back against the column, seeing a smoking scorch mark on the ground.

"(Y/N)!" a familiar voice shouts, and you’re shocked by Wonwoo's presence, distracting you.

"Stupid bitch!" The thief is back behind you, and you spin to see the gun nearly at your head. You yelp when something yanks you back and you fall into a hard body. Leaning into him, you watch in terror as the woman falls back onto the ground, a hole in her head. Then you notice not only are you breathing hard, but so is he. He spins you around to look over you, his hands on your shoulders, one going to your jaw to adjust your head so he can look you over.

"Are you okay?" He’s nearly frantic, his face and tone full of panic.

"Y-yes." You aren’t sure if you should be more surprised by his sudden appearance or the clear worry he has for you. It makes your heart thud but for a much different reason. When he’s finishes looking over you and determines himself you are okay, Wonwoo pulls you into a hug. You return the embrace, more trying to comfort him than anything.

"Fuck, I was worried..." He sighs right in your ear, his deep voice rumbling through you.

"You were?" He pulls back enough so he can meet your eye and huffs.

"Of course. You didn’t reply when I messaged you to stay away…" His hand goes back to your jaw, his thumb brushing over the skin of your cheek, which is rapidly getting warm and red. When you meet his eyes again yours widen, he gets close again and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Are you okay?" You chuckle a bit, kind of worried. He’s never shown this level of emotion before.

"Yeah." Wonwoo pulls way, petting your hair then goes to the body of the woman. You try to avoid looking at her as he takes the map holder from her and soon the Guards show up. It’s another good hour or maybe two before you both are finally allowed to leave after giving statements and answering questions.

"Do you have a place to stay tonight?" he asks you as you leave the warehouse district.

"Not yet. I was just about to find a hotel when I saw her…" You drift off, pointing with your thumb in the general direction of where you just were.

"I got a crap ton of money from a wreck I found so I’m going to go somewhere fancy." You smile wide and he gives you a smaller one. Wonwoo takes a step closer, looking a bit nervous, his voice has a slight waver when he speaks.

"Wanna get a room together?"

~υ3υ~

From everything after he asked that question, till your back hit the door of your hotel room, was a blur. You got one of the deluxe suites of the nice hotel, so the bedroom is separate from the living area, and there’s a small kitchen even. As soon as the door closes, he presses you against it, his lips swallowing yours. His big hand goes to the back of your head, making sure it doesn’t hit the wood of the door. When your lungs start to burn for more air, he finally pulls his mouth from yours. As you catch your breath, just looking at each other, Wonwoo leans in to whisper in your ear, "I'm going to fuck you on every surface in this place." He promises. Your head swims at the statement and you whine.

"Please~" As soon as he gets permission, he grabs and turns you around, your front pressed to the door and his nose nuzzles behind your ear. You let him do as he wishes, running his hands under your thin top, starting to suck on the skin in the crook of your neck. You’re a bit worried about him having to stoop over so far since he’s so much taller, but if he isn’t complaining, neither will you. You can tell he’s marking your skin as he licks, sucks, and nibbles over your neck and shoulders. His hands quickly get your shirt off and as his hands dance over the skin of your stomach, you toed your boots off, shoving them to the side. Before he completely removes it, Wonwoo slips his hands under your breast band, palming the flesh, making you shiver. Undoing the latch, he takes the wrap off and it falls to the floor as well. Not turning around to see for sure, you hear more fabric rustling and assumes he’s removing his own top. You sigh when his arms wrap around you, holding your back to his bare chest, the right hand cupping your left breast, and his other hand skating over your stomach. He smiles at the whining moan you let out when his hand finally goes into your pants, long fingers stroking the wet patch on your panties.

"So wet, pretty girl." He kisses behind your ear, fingers tweaking your nipple.

"Wonwoo~" You whimper when his bare fingers finally meet your folds, and he groans.

"Let's see how tight you are." Every time he rumbles words in your ear, it makes your entire body shiver. Sighing when his finger slides inside, he huffs, his hips twitching as your gummy walls suck his finger in. You can feel his hardening cock through his pants, pressing into your back side. When Wonwoo adds a second finger, crooking them up and pressing hard into your back wall, your legs buckle, and the only reason you don’t fall is his arms around you.

"Need to get your pussy ready for me, pretty." He smiles against your neck when your groan fades into a whine.

"Fuck~" You practically cried as his palm dig into your clit and you’re already close.

"No!" You gasp when his fingers left right as you’re getting to the edge.

"Wonwoo?" He’s pulls away entirely, you only knows he’s still behind you because his hands are on the waist band of your pants. He pulls them along with your underwear down and kneels behind you, helping you get them off without falling over.

"Hold on, pretty girl." While you aren’t sure what he’s about to do, your fingers dig futilely into the wood of the door. Your breath escapes you when he, without real warning, shoves his tongue into your cunt, his thumb flicking your clit. Your legs immediately begin to shake, a mewl escaping with each rapid breath. You’re done for when his lips seal around your clit, barely flicking with his tongue, and your nails dig into the wood as you cum on his tongue. He chuckles, your cunt dripping release onto the floor.

"Gonna have to clean this place good…" You joke, breathless and he laughs harder. Wonwoo hums, standing back up. There’s more shuffling as you rest against the door panting. You sigh when his arms come back to you, pulling you back into his now completely naked body. His cock is wedged in the crook of your ass, and you swear under your breath, why is he so freaking big? He’s tall and his shoulders are broad, and apparently has to have a fat cock as well.

"Fuck!" You groan when the head of his cock goes to the entrance of your core. One of his arms wrap around your ribs, the hand resting under your breast, and the other is at your hip.

"Ready?" His tone shifts, it’s playful and cocky, a slight laugh accompanies the word.

"Please!" You gasp as he starts to push in, your legs shake as his dick stretches you open. You hadn't been fucked in a long time, and longer still fucked good. You pant out little whines as he keeps filling you, and it seems like he’s going to end up in your throat. Your entire body is trembling when he finally bottoms out, his strong hips pressing against your ass.

"God, your cunt feels so good, princess." His groan rumbles through both of you. You can’t see, but his head is thrown back, adam's apple bobbing as he tries to get used to how tight you are. When he realizes you’re on your tip toes trying to compensate for the height difference, he shifts to ease the strain. He backs up so you can lean forward more, and he angles his hips down. Your feet are no longer burning, and his new angle seems to get him even deeper somehow. Your cunt is burning too, trying to accommodate his size, slick walls fluttering from the stimulation. He still barely moves, letting you adjust, but you’re growing close again.

"Move…" Your request is very quiet. You’re trying not to moan likes a bitch in heat even though that’s exactly how you feel.

"Slow? Fast?"

"Fuck- Wonwoo, just-" He pulls out about halfway and thrusts back in, the head of his cock kissing your cervix. You both moan, his hands leave their original positions to grip the flesh of your ass, and he chuckles when you nearly sob as he starts. Only pulling out part of the way, he’ll fuck back into you hard, grinding his pubic bone into you each time.

"Fucking hell, Wonwoo~" You end up back on your toes just from the pleasure and you hope they won’t fine you too bad for the scratches your nails are carving into the wood. All your breath gets fucked out of you when he finally gives a full thrust, your orgasm slamming into you.

"Shit-" Wonwoo grunts when your already tight cunt squeezes him even more, he has to slow down just to keep himself from cumming as well. He smirks, watching your fingers twitch as you claw the door, your head flopping forward between your shoulders.

"No, no, no!" You babble as he pulls out all the way, huffing in amusement at your whining.

"Come here, pretty." Wonwoo easily lifts you, somewhere between like a sack of potatoes and a princess. Your head is still swimming from your orgasm, so the move to the next location is a bit blurry. You shiver and mewl when he sets you on the counter in the mini kitchen of the suite, the marble very cold on your bare thighs and pussy. He laughs at your yelp when he pulls you so your butt is right at the end of the counter, and doesn’t hesitate to bury himself back into you. The thrust is harsher and faster than the first and your hands fly to his shoulders to steady yourself as he restarts the brutal rhythm that he’d fucked you against the door with. The man groans when your nails dig into his skin instead of the wood, so he decides to mark you himself.

"Wonwoo~" Your voice wavers, eyes starting to tear up at the feeling of him fucking your brains out. His mouth goes to your own shoulder, at the base of your neck. He starts with open mouth kisses, then sucks the skin before lightly sinking his teeth in. He can feel your whimper against your throat, and you feel his responding hum from his lips. Wonwoo tightens his grip as well, wanting to leave bruises shaped likes his hands on your skin. He’s struggling to hold you upright enough, so you don’t bang your head against the counter, and his knees keep knocking into the cabinet.

"Hold on…" He grunts, and you squeak when, without withdrawing, he picks you up, holding your legs around his waist. Not going far, one hand holds your butt and the other goes to hitch your leg over his elbow as he pins you to the wall. Luckily the paint on the wall isn’t textured, your back rubbing over the surface as you bounce on his cock. Wonwoo looks even more gorgeous than normal like this, naked, sweat covering his brow, pupils blown wide. The red, dancing hologram of his eye contact contracts and spins, and you wonder what it does, if anything. With hazy thoughts, you glance down at his body, whining at the sight of his abs, clenched to work his hips and hold you up.

"Fuck, pretty girl-" He exhales harshly, his thrusts getting less regular as he grows closer to his orgasm.

"Inside, please, fuck!" You plead and he has no desire to argue. His forehead lands on your shoulder, and he moans higher than you thought he could go as he pumps his cum into you. In the silence, cutting through both of your panting breaths, your combined release drips onto the tile floor. Your head is so empty you nearly don’t realize you’ve cum again as well. You try hard not to slump like a rag doll since he’s completely holding you up, but you nearly have no strength.

"Let's get to the bed." Wonwoo stands up straight, staying inside, his cock still rock-hard and he carries you to the separate bedroom of the suite. While he means to set you down on the bed gently, you flop onto it, letting yourself finally go boneless, your muscles and mind are mush. You aren’t sure if you can go any longer, but despite a bit of sweat on him, he’s unaffected.

"I've been waiting to fuck you since you came to my motel room in Falko." He admits, shifting you higher on the bed, following suit, his hard cock covered in both of yours cum resting between the folds of your cunt. You barely registered the confession before your back arches, his cock finding its home inside of you again. It’s hard to fully catch your breath, he’s battering his cock into your dripping cunt without any mercy. As he rolls his hips just right to hit every single good spot inside of you, his hands grip your thighs, maneuvering your weakly shaking thighs so they press to your chest, knees at your ears.

"D-daddy, go slower!" You cry out and his hips immediately stops. You’re too far gone to feel anything but a bit of respite, head flopping so your cheek rests on the pillow.

"Fucking hell, princess." Somehow his voice has gotten deeper, and he starts the brutal pace back up, snapping his hips even harder than before. If you have the strength to scream you would, but your throat is hoarse, so you just mewl and squeak, drool pooling from the corners of your mouth, tears down your cheeks.

"You love daddy's cock ruining your sweet little cunt, huh?" He huffs when your glassy eyes meets his. The red hologram spins and dances, and while you can’t see, through the lens he has a much different view. Little numbers and labels show in the air around your body, telling him how and where your brain is firing, your heart rate, body temperature, blood pressure. He can even highlight where blood pools to the bruises his hands have made.

"Yes~!" You gasp as his thrusts slow down, but just as hard, he barely pulls out before grinding down into you. Different sensors from his lens flashes on and he can tell you’re getting close already. Even without it, he can feel your walls pulsing, more of your wet dripping from where your bodies meets.

"You wanna cum, pretty?" You nod rapidly, whimpering positively.

"Cum for daddy, then." And with one more thrust you fall over the edge. Not just from his words, but also the rough friction of his pelvic bone meeting your clit. Wonwoo chuckles as he feels your pussy spasm, more of your cum squirting from your quivering folds, coating his skin as well. He has a feeling you’re spent even though he knows he could keep going. He’s still inside of you, so he doesn’t overstimulate you too much, and he isn’t for sure you’re still conscious. Your eyes are closed, arms resting on the bed up by your head. He smiles warmly, cooing at your fucked out state, letting your legs go so they can rest onto the bed as well. When he pulls out you shudder, a long shaky whine floating from your parted lips. He’s shocked at the globs of thick, white cum that drip out of your swollen cunt and he’s still unfortunately still very hard. After feeling your core milk him dry, he isn’t sure even a cold shower will calm him down. Though, seeing you laying there, he feels a little bad he’s caused you to become so worn out and doesn’t want to be selfish.

"Oh, princess." Wonwoo leans back over you, kissing your cheek, the corner of your mouth, then softly presses his lips to yours. You sigh and it makes him grin, you’re at least conscious.

"You're still hard." Your voice is quiet, higher than normal, almost whiny.

"It's okay, pretty, you're tired." Wonwoo nuzzles the side of your neck under your ear, lightly sucking on your ear lobe. If he wasn’t careful, he won’t be able to resist sliding back inside you. With the little strength you have returned to you, you push him back just enough that you can flop over onto your stomach.

"(Y/N), we don't-" You don’t let him finish, grabbing a pillow to shove under your hips, lifting your butt a bit higher.

"Please, daddy~" You look at him with shining eyes over your shoulder, and who is he to resist?

"Oh, fuck, princess. If you insist…"

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

Seventeen Master List

Taglist: @gaslysainz

[sunrenity]

TAKE A CHANCE WITH ME — those fucking rink rats!

SYNOPSIS. you hated all hockey players, to say the least. sim jake hated how you met his gaze with obliviousness, unaware that he was irrevocably captivated by you, who not only deemed love overrated but also harbored a strong dislike for him, all because he was a hockey player.

p hockey player! sim jake x fem!reader  .  ft  enemy!heeseung, twin brother!sunghoon  .  g  hockey player x figure skater, strangers to enemies (one-sided at first) to lovers fluff, college au, pinning  .  w  cussing, blood, swearing, lowercase  .  wc  1726 (1.7k)  .  bookshelf

series masterlistㅤ ㅤ ㅤnextㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

THE COLD AIR NIPPED at your cheeks, painting a rosy hue on your face as you settled onto the frosty seat beside the school's ice rink. the metal bench sent a shiver through you as you began the familiar ritual of securing the laces of your ice skates. yet, you seemed unaware of the aggression in your actions as you tightened them, the sharp metal eyelets clinking with each forceful pull. your visible anger was palpable, a simmering emotion on the verge of boiling over.

the frigid ambiance of the rink surrounded you, the sharp scent of cold air filling your lungs with each inhale. the ice glistened under the artificial lights, a pristine surface awaiting the graceful movements of figure skaters. despite the serene appearance, tension crackled in the air, and it wasn't solely a result of the chilly temperature.

as you meticulously started fastening the second skate, your fingers deftly navigating the familiar loops and hooks, your focus remained on the frosty expanse of the rink before you. the ice gleamed under the rink's artificial lights, promising a canvas for elegant spins and precise jumps in the upcoming training session.

beside you, your twin brother, sunghoon, who's older by a mere three seconds, settled onto the cold bench, his brown hair obscuring a portion of his eyes. the frosty air seemed to mirror the anticipation that lingered between you two. both of you were gearing up for the first day of training on the ice after your initial day of college, a familiar routine amid the transition to a new academic year.

he glanced at you, a curious expression in his eyes, "so, how do you feel about sharing the ice with the hockey players?"

the mere mention of those hockey players sent a shiver down your spine, a visceral reaction to the looming presence of a group you harbored a deep disdain for. it was as if the temperature dropped a few degrees around you, the chill matching the frosty atmosphere of the rink. you shot sunghoon a look, a silent acknowledgment of the shared disdain for the hockey players at your school.

with a heavy sigh, you continued fastening the straps, the cold metal biting into your fingertips. "sharing the ice with those rink rats? ugh, don't even get me started, sunghoon. i can't stand them, and you know that very well," you grumbled, casting a disdainful glance toward the rink. determination etched across your face, you tightened the last strap with precision, as if channeling your frustration into the action.

sunghoon, sensing your frustration, nodded knowingly. his understanding gaze lingered on you for a moment before he shifted his attention to the laces of his own figure skating shoes. "yeah, it's not ideal. but it's just temporary, right? their rink will be fixed soon, and we won't have to deal with them anymore."

despite the reassurance, the thought of enduring their presence for what felt like an eternity irked you. the hockey players' rink had broken over the summer — rumors circulated, hinting at sabotage, possibly orchestrated by rival schools envious of your school's hockey team, who had clinched victory the previous year — leaving the figure skaters with no choice but to share the ice.

"well, you better brace yourself. looks like they're headed our way." sunghoon remarked, his eyes shifting toward the approaching group of hockey players, each one fully geared up and exuding a confidence that bordered on arrogance. the swagger in their steps announced their arrival like a storm on the horizon. an annoyed exchange of glances between you and your brother silently acknowledged the impending clash.

as the hockey players confidently took to the ice, coach baek's voice resonated, breaking the tense atmosphere, "figure skaters, on the ice!" every figure skater, regardless of their sentiments, needed to participate in the shared training.

the contrast between the figure skaters and the hockey players was palpable — the elegant spins and graceful maneuvers of figure skaters clashed starkly with the powerful strides and aggressive moves of the hockey players

reluctantly, you and sunghoon made your way onto the shared ice, the chill seeping through your skates mirroring the frosty atmosphere. as you joined the other figure skaters, you couldn't help but feel a sense of solidarity among your peers – a shared discontentment with the temporary arrangement.

the hockey players, seemingly oblivious to the tension, went about their training with a level of boisterous enthusiasm that grated on your nerves. coach lee, their commanding presence overseeing the training, added to the cacophony as he barked instructions, the contrast to coach baek's composed demeanor striking.

sunghoon gave you an encouraging nod, silently conveying that you both needed to make the best of the situation.

coach baek's authoritative voice rang out, "all right, let's start with spins and jumps. show them what figure skaters are made of!"

you see, the hatred wasn't only between the students; it permeated the very fabric of the ice rink. the two coaches, baek and lee, harbored a mutual disdain for each other.

as you gracefully executed spins and jumps, attempting to maintain composure in the uneasy atmosphere, the unfamiliar tension between figure skaters and hockey players lingered in the air. sunghoon, by your side, mirrored your determination.

mid-spin, the world blurred around you, the rhythmic pattern of your routine momentarily transporting you to a familiar sanctuary. you felt at home, completely immersed in the moment. however, the sanctuary shattered as a sudden, searing impact disrupted your concentration. a hockey puck struck your nose, an intense, sharp pain radiating through your face. the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth, and crimson droplets stained the pristine ice beneath you. simultaneously, another puck hit your leg, throwing you off balance, and you found yourself tumbling onto the unforgiving surface.

those fucking rink rats!

shock and discomfort enveloped you as you lay there, momentarily stunned. the cold ice beneath you offered a stark contrast to the warmth of the blood that now trickled down from your injured nose.

amidst the disarray, the atmosphere became charged with tension. heeseung, seemingly reveling in the chaos, wore a smug smirk that spoke volumes of satisfaction. beside him, a nervous-looking boy with jet-black hair that fell in messy waves over his forehead — who you had never seen before, not to mention — hesitated for a moment before breaking away from heeseung's side. ignoring the leader of the hockey players, he rushed towards you, concern etched on his face.

heeseung's condescending remarks echoed, "accidents happen, figure skater. maybe watch where you're spinning next time." his words only fueled the anger within you, but the black-haired boy seemed genuinely apologetic, his eyes reflecting a sense of regret.

the figure skaters, including sunghoon, shot disapproving glares at heeseung, demanding respect. the black-haired boy knelt beside you, offering a tentative hand, "i'm sorry about that. are you okay?"

your initial pride fueled a refusal, and you scoffed at the black-haired boy's attempt to help. the disdain for hockey players echoed in your mind, and you tried to rise independently, determined to maintain your composure. his extended hand hung in the air momentarily before you slapped it away with a curt gesture, resisting any form of assistance.

"i don't need your help," you said, your glare aimed at him, your words a defiant assertion of independence.

yet, as you tried to rise, the pain in your leg intensified, sending a jolt of discomfort through your body. stubbornness gave way to necessity, and reluctantly, you conceded. the boy, undeterred by your initial rejection, gently offered his support once more. his expression sincere as he insisted, "let me help you. it's the least i can do."

sighing in reluctant acceptance, you finally yielded to the black-haired boy's outstretched hand. the texture of his palm against yours was surprisingly warm. his grip was unexpectedly strong as he helped you up, guiding you to a sitting position on the bench.

the disapproval in sunghoon's eyes intensified, a silent commentary on the compromise you had made. his gaze held a mix of concern for your well-being and displeasure at the necessity of accepting help from an unexpected source.

heeseung, too, watched with disdain, his upper lip curled in a scoffing expression as the black-haired boy assisted you. his eyes bore into the scene, a silent commentary on his lack of empathy.

"i'm really sorry. i didn't mean for that to happen," the black-haired boy reiterated.

his gaze flickered towards heeseung briefly, as if seeking approval or reassurance, but was only met with a cold glare.

with a gulp, he added, "uhm, i could bring you to the school's nursing room, if you want? you do have a nursing room, right?"

despite your lingering reservations, the unexpected kindness and genuine remorse in the black-haired boy's demeanor left you conflicted. you hesitated for a moment, glancing at sunghoon, who nodded subtly, silently agreeing to accept the offer of assistance.

with a reluctant nod, you consented to let him guide you to the school's nursing room "yeah, sure. the nursing room is... that way," you gestured vaguely, realizing that the black-haired boy likely had no idea where it was.

as he took a step closer to help you stand, his hands found a secure grip on your upper arms, offering both support and stability. his touch was unexpectedly gentle, fingers firm yet careful as he assisted you in getting back on your feet.

a sharp pang of pain in your leg reminded you of the injury, but the black-haired boy's steadying presence provided a counterbalance. his hands, now subtly adjusting to support your waist, guided you towards the exit of the ice rink. your arm instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking additional support and maintaining balance.

meanwhile, sunghoon approached the unfamiliar hockey player, his initial skepticism palpable. "hey, thanks for helping my sister. i'm sunghoon, by the way," he said, eyeing the boy cautiously.

the tension between figure skaters and hockey players lingered, and sunghoon couldn't completely let his guard down.

the boy nodded, offering a genuine smile, "no problem. i'm jake, new to the college and the hockey team. once again, i didn't mean for any of this to happen."

sunghoon's skepticism softened slightly at jake's introduction, appreciating the courtesy. "well, thanks anyway. keep an eye on heeseung, though. he can be trouble."

taglist ,ㅤ @nyfwyeonjun @sakiimeo @makiswrld @143ikeu @psh-pjh

© sunrenity , don't plagiarize, steal or repost my work on any platform !

[brokenpieces-72]

I really love the stray series and this idea has been bugging me for a while. So what if they brought stray along to help investigate the facility but got ambushed and stray got injured saving them?

Yay first request, okay time to not screw it up! I hope I did this okay.

Stray Shot

Laswell’s intel was enough for a small mission to take place and investigate the facility. There was some discussion about whether they take you along or not. Gaz can give you basic commands but you’re no K9. After a couple of minor concerns were brought up they decided to bring you along. You knew the facility and your reactions could at least give them a gauge of what happened.

You were given a vest… but as the rest of the team was gearing up you kept wrestling with it, biting and nipping at it. You even managed to get your bottom jaw stuck in it. Soap was the first to finish getting ready and came out to see you stepping around with your mouth caught on the vest, seeing you fall over. Johnny shook his head but got you out of the vest. Price came out later and saw Johnny latching on your leash.

“The dog needs a vest sergeant.” Price commented.

“You’re welcome to try sir.” Johnny said offering the best to the captain, not much hope of success on his face.

John did try…you kept moving and when he tried holding you between his legs, you kept wriggling free, voice your disdain with small growls. Price gave up as well.

Nikolai was waiting with a vehicle. Flying wasn’t easily an option, seeing as there was nowhere they could easily land, and they couldn’t easily drop out with you not having any gear on. You ride being very well behaved in the back… okay yeah you definitely tried to get up front into shotgun but thankfully John and Nikolai were able to dissuade you so there wasn’t an accident.

When the task force arrived at the facility though, everything was quiet. Eerily quiet. No guards at the gate, no patrols, not even a vehicle in a parking lot. Guns were up though, the men knowing full well that quiet doesn’t mean absent. You were kept on leash, attached to Kyle’s belt. Your body language made it very clear you didn’t want to be here, ears down and flat, your tails between your legs and whimpering, trying to circle back to the safety of the vehicles. Kyle kept tugging your leash though, reminding you there was no retreat, but that you were not alone.

They entered through a side door, scoping around before entering. When Kyle tried to go in you kept pulling away. You didn’t want to go back in, you fled for a reason. There weren’t any other animals inside you could hear either. Kyle kept tugging, urging you to go in. Price held the door, keeping watch for any signs of movement with Ghost and Soap moving ahead slowly.

Kyle crouched down to your level, while you shifted and moved around whimpering, letting out small distressed barks.

“Hey hey, I know I know. It’s okay. We just need to go in for a bit, nothing in there is gonna hurt you.” Kyle said trying to calm you down, giving you scratches and neck rubs. He held your head to look directly at you.

“You’re Safe…we’re gonna make sure of it.” He said. You let out one last whimpering before moving in closer and licking his face. Kyle stood up and led you inside. There is a strong metallic smell along with weird smells you remembered but didn’t recognize as anything good. Every move the men made you froze and followed. Ghost checked around a corner, you looked from where you were. Johnny tensed, you tensed. The captain gave an order your ears perked. Kyle stopped you let out a small growl. This seemed to go on for a long time.

Soon they approached a door you had seen a few times but never entered. And never saw others leave. You started fighting against the leash again. The men think you’re scared, and you are. When Ghost opened the door though, it was more than that.

The door closed as soon as it opened after a shot rang out. There was shouting as Ghost open fired as soon as the door reopened. Another shot was fired but this one from above and behind into Gaz’s back. If it weren’t for the vest he may have been paralyzed. Thinking fast Gaz unhooked the leash from your collar and the men moved quickly taking cover. Ghost cleared out whatever men were in that room, making it the easiest spot to avoid the sniper. You wasted no time rushing in with the rest.

Inside they saw kennels and fenced cages, with chain leashes hanging from the wall. There was also blood. The place was a familiar scent to you, as you detected other animals you’d encountered. Any of them came in they were rarely let back out, and if they were they weren’t the same. You whimpered as you detected the scent of another dog you’d met. A husky, who didn’t give up on escape.

“Operating table, kennels, chains… this is animal testing at its ugliest.” Ghost commented as they kept moving. Ghost approached a corner, but you stepped in first smelling danger. Without warning Ghost turned to find another guard pointing a gun at him, only for you to go for the guard’s leg.

Ghost took advantage of your distraction knifing the bastard in the chest, and lowering him to the ground. You didn’t let up on your growls as you barked at the corpse. Ghost gave you a scratch between the ears, and you eased off rubbing against his leg.

“Good dog.” He said. Price and Johnny moved up ahead entering an operating room that still contained some syringes. Gaz found a computer and tried to break in to collect data. Ghost got you to wait at least outside the operating room.

You didn’t hear or really understand what they were discussing. You recognized a few of the words but not many.

“Animal testing… what were they testing?” Price muttered.

“A type of drug?” Soap suggested. “Sure as hell keepin it to themselves.”

“Captain.” Gaz called from the computer, having broken in. Price left the room to see what his sergeant found, instructing Ghost to get Nikolai to be ready with the vehicles. You followed Price, who didn’t slow to make sure you were caught up. They had to work fast, knowing a sniper was above them somewhere. They also needed a way out. Gaz had found more information and files concerning the testing, but you caught wind of something more pressing.

There was a sound the men knew well, but you didn’t. A grenade rolled towards them and while they took cover you picked it up and bolted towards where it came from, tossing it by whipping your head. Unfortunately, you weren’t fast enough, and was caught in some of the blast. Gaz moved quickly to pull you out while Johnny and Ghost went after the thrower, gunning him and few other’s down, the blast having incapacitated most of them. You whimpered as he got you to cover. Price continued pushing forward, seeing as it would get them out faster at this point. You do your best to stay focused, the pain still remains in your mouth. Your muzzle was dotted with grenade fragments and some burns. The pain made you whimper, but you held strong as the team kept going.

Price lead his team through. You bolted forward again though as he entered an open area, knocking him down just as a shot rang out. Your pained yelp had Price rolling you off of him assessing the damage. The exit was only a few feet away but another shot hit you. Ghost had a chance to take out the sniper before anymore could hit you. Johnny ran up ahead to open the door, and flag down Nikolai. Gaz got you over his shoulder, as Price got up and they made a break for it.

The rest is a blur for you. The bullets got you in the chest and your muzzle was still in a lot of pain. You were losing blood. Nikolai was there in time to collect the team. From there you blacked out. You remember hearing sounds of shouting, and smelling latex.

While you were undergoing surgery the team waited outside. They had been able to focus enough to get their gear and hand in what they found to Laswell, but they were more distracted by you and your condition. Laswell came to find them waiting to see if you would make it. Seeing the four men tense and quiet was something she’d seen more than once. This time there was something different. Affection.

Laswell leaned against the wall next to Price trying to offer some comfort. Even she had to admit you were a good dog. Then the doctor stepped out of the room. The men were all at attention.

“They’ll pull through…though I should mention something odd…” the doctor said a little unsure of himself.

“Go on.” Price urged.

“We didn’t really need to do any stitches just remove the pieces of grenade and bullets, and give them some more blood.” The doctor explained.

“…are you saying they healed on their own?” Ghost asked crossing his arms. The doctor knew how it sounded and their own expression showed no change.

“The dog is asleep, if you would like to check on them.” The doctor offered. Kyle was the first to go in with Johnny following behind. You laid on your side on the table, with some blood still being pumped into you. There were bandages on your wounds and your muzzle. No blood was seeping through. The doctor held up a scalpel.

“Let me show you what I mean.” The doctor said and made a small incision, drawing a little blood. Johnny smacked the doctor’s hand away.

“Leave em alone!” He shouted at the doctor. Ghost got hold of Johnny’s shoulder and got him calm before he could start throwing hands with the doctor. Kyle noticed what the doctor was talking about though. He saw the small cut mend itself quickly.

“Unbelievable.” He said.

You started opening your eyes and sat up a bit, seeing Laswell and Price standing off to the side. Your tail wagged, a little weak. The team couldn’t believe how quickly you recovered. It was insane. Laswell was intent on doing thorough examination and research on the information the 141 had found. This wasn’t normal at all. Price c came over to you and you welcomed him with licks to his hand, happy you didn’t disappear behind that door for good.

@yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @H0n3y_L3m0n @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

A Hero's Welcome

I am super duper unhappy with this. I just can't get it right, but if I don't post it, I'll get stuck in a rut. As always, please drop a comment below, they are loved and cherished.

This can be read as a The Way the Stars Love the Heavens one-shot or as a standalone, so you don't need to read my series to read this!!

Contains: Fluff, smut (oral sex M and F receiving, fingering, p in v).

2.2K words of pure smut.

Simon comes back after an op and you're happy to welcome him back to base.

It was the soft sound of his tac boots on the hard floors that gave Simon away. Despite how quietly he would always move, the long days of waiting for him to return to base had left you on edge and listening out for every sound that came by your door.

You didn't want to wait any longer, ladylike behaviour be damned, so when the footsteps got close enough to let you know he was right by your dorm, you yanked him into the room. He was still wearing all his tac gear, and he was already grinning when he laid eyes on you, ever the observant soldier, he must have been ready for your reaching arms the second he heard the creaking of your door. "Well hello lovely, did you miss me?"

You all but ripped his mask off his face and pressed your lips to his as your reply, and Simon smiled against your lips as you started to pull his vest off. Your fingers moved haphazardly, and he grabbed one shoulder strap as it fell from his chest. With the vest discarded, you started on the various weapons strapped to his body, finally needing to break away from his lips and look as the task grew.

"You need a hand?" He watched you remove the knife from his hip, your fingers unfocused and rushed, and you nodded as he unbuckled the holster from his other hip and placed it and the gun it held on the ever-growing pile. You reached towards the small of his back, gripping the wad of metal pressed against his skin and pulled it free from the tiny pouch protecting his body.

You laughed when it came into view, and Simon's easy grin had your heart fluttering. "What the hell do you need a trench knife for? The world wars ended a long time ago, dearest."

"The knuckles detach, you know, in case the knife gets stuck." He took it from you and separated the pieces. "See?"

You shook your head and sighed. "Alright then."

You dropped down to your knees to remove his shoes, and he smiled down at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm really getting to gold star treatment, aren't I love?"

"Of course." The knife on his left ankle went first, then the gun on his right and you made your way back up his body to take off his belt. He stopped you, wrapping his hand gently around your wrists before placing your hand on his shoulders and leaning down to kiss you. You felt him grip the edge of your shirt and you lifted your arms as he pulled it over your head.

"Fuck you're so fucking beautiful. I'm the luckiest man on Earth." His lips found your neck, and the added roughness of his beard from being in the field for a week without shaving had you taking in a sharp breath as the texture sent shivers down your spine.

His shirt went next, and he took two steps back to accommodate the height you didn't have so you could pull it off his body. You fought back a giggle, and he brushed his fingers over the apple of your cheek as he looked at you fondly. "What it is love."

"I was hoping I'd find a razor blade taped somewhere." The look on his face told you all you needed to know, and your suspicions were confirmed when he started to undo his belt with a smile. You helped him, pushing his camo pants off his hips and down to a pile on the floor. He had something long and impossibly thing strapped to his thigh, and your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion as you went to undo the strap.

"It's a KGB concealed blade, you know, in case of a pat down." Nevertheless, it joined its brothers and sisters on the pile on your table, and Simon thanked you for all your hard work with another kiss as he removed your bra.

You nipped his lower lip, and one hand went from your hip to your breast so he could play with your nipple. He wasn't as gentle as he usually was, and it had you gasping through the kiss as the roughness of his battle-hardened fingers danced across your sensitive skin. You slid your hand down his body and palmed his cock, and he grunted when you rubbed him through the fabric.

You pulled away from his lips and pressed yours to his cheek, then his chin, then you dipped your head to kiss his neck, stopping briefly from sucking a mark on his throat. "I think I should show you how much I missed you."

His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he used his fingertips to draw circles on your breast. "And how are you going to do that, lovely?"

You smiled and slowly dropped to your knees, pressing kisses to his chest and abs as you went. "I have some ideas."

One of his massive hands found the back of your head as you pulled his boxers down. You used the precum beading at the head to slick your way down as you stroked him, and he groaned when you tightened your hand on the upstroke. You smiled up at him before leaning in and licking him from base to tip like an ice cream, and you felt his fingers tense as he stopped himself from digging them into your hair.

You sucked the tip into your mouth, and he took in a breath as the heat of your mouth made his toes tingle. His head fell back, and his breath quickened as you took him further in, one of your hands moving from his hip to play with his balls. He moaned, his chest rumbling as his hand squeezed your shoulder rhythmically.

He started to rock his hips, a slow and steady back and forth that still let you set the pace, and you could tell by the force of the hand on your shoulder that he was holding back. You took your hand off his balls and moved it to the part of his cock that your mouth couldn't reach, and Simon grunted and a breath left his chest. "Fuckin' ell love, you're gonna kill me."

You hummed an affirmative and pulled back, using both your hands to take the place of your mouth. "Death by blow job, what a way to go."

He shook his head and huffed. "You're asking for it now." He pulled your hands off of him and lifted you up by your upper arms, manhandling you to the bed. "What makes you think it's ok to give me so much lip."

You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from laughing, and he took in your expression before ripping your trousers off, the buttons flying everywhere as you protested. "Hey, those were my favourite."

"I'll repair them for you, don't worry love." He knew he would and the vision of him sitting on the bed with a tiny sewing needle in his hand made you giggle. The sound of ripping pulled you away from your thoughts, and you looked towards his hands, there was no way he could fix your panties, he had torn them in two.

He dropped down and knelt on the floor before manhandling you again, throwing your legs over his shoulders and diving in, licking you from entrance to clit as he moaned. He went in like a man eating his last meal, and you knew you would have bruises in the morning with how hard his hand were squeezing your thighs.

With your ass off the edge, Simon had to support the weight of your legs and he took full advantage, using his massive arms to maneuver you so you couldn't move away from growing pleasure as he increased his efforts with his mouth. He dropped one of your legs but shifted to maintain control as his hand slid up your inner thigh and to your core and moved his mouth to focus solely on your clit.

"Fuck, oh fuck." The feeling of his fingers sliding inside you was wonderful, and the slow pace juxtaposed to the enthusiastic one he had taken with his mouth meant that you felt every ridge of his digits. He crooked his fingers to rub your G-spot and you arched toward his mouth as you grew closer to the edge.

You pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle your growing moans, aware that the walls could only keep so much away, and you didn't want your friends to hear how desperate you must have sounded as Simon touched you. Suddenly, everything stopped and the hand he was using to pleasure you was wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your mouth. "None of that Love, I want to hear you."

"But…" You couldn't really think of a response, not when he was looking at you like he wanted to swallow you whole.

"No buts, be good for me Love and let me hear how good I make you feel." He dove right back in, and your fingers gripped the sheets as the sensations picked up exactly where they left off. You tried to muffle the whimpers, but you were rushing towards the peak like a runaway train.

Your hands found his head, and you scratched his scalp and pushed his head into you, and with one more stroke to your G-spot, your vision went white as the pleasure overtook you. The vibrations of his moans only made the feeling stronger, and he didn't seem to mind the way you were yanking his hair as the orgasm slowly faded.

He didn't stop, and you pushed his head away softly as he chuckled. "Simon, enough."

He pulled away and wiped his face with his hand before standing up with a grin. "You right there love?"

You blinked in indignation. "Am I right? What kind of question is that?"

He was smug, his handsome face twinkling with ego. "I'm just making sure."

You yanked him downwards and used the momentum to flip yourself on top of him, his hands moving to your hips as you settled on top of him. "The bed's too small to flip again, so what are you going to do now?"

He ran one hand up and down your leg while the other moved to your cheek to pull you down for a kiss, and he nipped your lower lip as the kiss deepened. He pulled back, only far enough to speak through his smirk. "Absolutely nothing."

You nodded and brought your hand from where it was resting on his chest to wrap around his cock, jacking it a few times before holding it still so you could slide down slowly. He was always just a little too much, but like this, he was overwhelming, hitting every single space you had until it felt like you were going to burst.

You took in a breath and started to rock slowly, moving your hips back and forth while Simon rubbed gentle circles on your thighs with his thumbs. "You're doing so good for me, Love." You bent at the waist and kissed him, and he ran his hands up and down your back as he started to match your pace.

The kiss turned rough, and he bent one knee to gain more leverage as he overtook the pace. You found yourself unable to straighten back up as he angled his hips to hit your G-spot, and then he was taking your hand off his heaving chest and placing it between your legs. "Touch yourself for me, Love."

You did as he asked, rubbing small circles on your clit as he gripped your hips so tight you knew you'd have bruises by the time the night was up. Simon was grunting like an animal as thrusts increased in force, and your body rocked with each one as your skin started to tingle with release once again. Your head fell into the crook of his neck, and his hands moved to the backs of your thighs for more leverage as you started to clench around him.

"Come on Love, I know you're close, I can feel it, just let go for me." You could tell by the glint in his voice that he was close behind you, and your fingers sped up on your clit as he pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your moans like a man starved as you fell over the edge. His hips stuttered and he held you to him as he pulsed inside you.

With his hips still, you rested on top of his chest to catch your breath while he ran his hands over any skin he could reach. "You need anything from me Love?"

You sighed and turned your head so you could rest your ear against his chest as a steady thumb filled your ear. "No dearest." You smiled softly and rubbed his nose with yours. "Welcome back."

He grinned and kissed you, it was full of love and affection, and your heart swelled as he held your face while his lips moved against yours. He pulled back with one last peck and put his forehead on yours with a sigh. "It's good to be back. I love you y/n."

You mirrored his sigh, enjoying the intimate contact as you grew sleepy. "I love you too Simon."

Fin

@chaos-4baby @shuttlelauncher81 @carma-fanficaddict

[whitedarkmoonflower]

hello

Can I request a sihtric x reader fic where she doesn’t know how to braid, so sihtric teaches her. and when she’s good enough he lets her braid his hair for battle saying it would bring him luck(?)

this is the main idea but you can change & do whatever you like with it! Thank you!

Braiding hair

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: I think I have never written a fic so quickly as this one. It just touched a string within me. Thank you so much for this absolutely lovely request! I hope you'll enjoy it!

Warnings: fluff, tons of fluff and such a tiny bit of angst, that it doesn't really count 

Word Count: 4,5K

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

The first light of dawn painted the horizon in  delicate hues of pink and orange,  casting a soft reflection on the tranquil river below. The water flowed very calm in this part of the river, the gentle lapping of the current seamlessly melding with the melodies of the first birds, praising the awakening of a new day. 

As Sihtric walked, he felt a sense of peace enveloping him. The riverside always had this calming effect, a place where he could gather his thoughts before the day's chaos ensued. Especially now, with Coocham buzzing with warriors gearing up for battle. 

Soon, he reached a secluded bend in the river, framed by tall reeds from the side of the river, while nearby a sprawling willow provided shade, shielding this corner from both the sun's gaze and curious onlookers. The air here was cooler, tinged with the refreshing scent of wet soil and the distant fragrance of blooming wildflowers.

Rounding the bend, Sihtric halted, an unexpected sight meeting his eyes – amidst the curtain of reeds and morning's embrace, you were dressing after what appeared to be a refreshing river bath. Droplets of water still clung to your naked arms, glistening in the faint sunlight. You reached for your leather jerkin, slipping it over your undergarment and breeches, then tugged on your boots and fastened your sword. Your damp hair, darker than its usual shade, clung to your neck, small streamlets running down your back.

Even from where he stood, Sihtric could see the focus in your stance, reminding him instantly of how you looked in the heat of training. He smirked remembering the unexpected twist his first sparring session with you had taken.

It had been a mystery to him why Uhtred had taken you in as a warrior. A woman – a small and delicate creature, looking like you would break into two from wielding that long and heavy blade of yours. The way you danced around the hay dolls in the sparring grounds, as if playing some intricate game, made Sihtric just wrinkle his nose and rolle his eyes, even as Finan approvingly chuckled with his tongue, hinting at a different perspective.

Until that one day.

—-----------------------------------------------

It was a late afternoon and the training grounds resonated with the rhythmic clang of metal clashing and the shuffling of feet on dry ground. Sihtric, along with Finan and Osfert, stood slightly off, their gazes fixed once again on you as you flowed through a series of maneuvers with your blade.

"She's got a knack for this," Finan observed, admiration evident in his voice. "See her footwork? Swift and sharp."

Osferth nodded, adding, "She's trained well. That much is clear."

"Since when have you turned into an expert in sword skill?” Sihtric scoffed, “Besides training and actual battle are worlds apart. Dancing around here is one thing, but facing seasoned warriors? Doubt she'd last a minute."

Finan shot him a sidelong glance. "Don't be so quick to dismiss, Sihtric. She might surprise you."

"She might be good," Sihtric conceded, his tone laced with sarcasm, "for training sessions with stray dolls. They don’t fight back. Let's be real; when swords clash in earnest, it's a different game."

Osferth countered, "You're not giving her enough credit. It's evident she has the heart of a warrior."

Sihtric's lips curled into a smirk, "Heart won't stand a chance against seasoned Dane fighters."

Finan, growing frustrated, retorted, "Like you, you mean? There's something else that bothers you about her, and it's not her skills. Spit it out."

“In the shield wall, every man counts. I want my flanks secured by real warriors, not this dancing doll.” Sihtric sneered with disdain.

Sihtric turned to look at you just to realise that you had approached the trio, having caught the tail end of their conversation. Blade resting on your shoulder, you met Sihtric's gaze squarely. "Shall we see? Care for a spar, Sihtric?"

The challenge hung in the air, and the attention of everybody on the grounds was suddenly focused on both of you.

"Perhaps we should use sticks, not steel. Wouldn't want to mar that pretty face of yours," Sihtric jested. 

Your retort was swift, "Scared I might leave a mark?" With a confident stride, you took your stance, eyes locked onto Sihtric, awaiting his move. 

Amid the expectant gazes of his friends and other warriors now coming closer, Sihtric drew his blade and slowly stepped into the training ground, every muscle radiating the confidence of years of experience and countless battles.

Without hesitation, Sihtric made the first move, lunging forward with a powerful strike, expecting to overwhelm you and end the bout swiftly. To his astonishment, he was met with empty air as you sidestepped evading him gracefully. His initial smugness was replaced with a furrowed brow.

The dance continued, with Sihtric trying to leverage his strength, but you remained elusive. Like a leaf caught in a whirl of wind, you ducked, swirled, and danced around him, evading each of his strikes. Each of your movements, precise and fluid, confounded him, taunting him with feints, luring him in with the promise of an opening in your defences, only to change direction at the last moment, leaving him off-balance. Each time, the crowd's gasps and murmurs grew louder, Sihtric's frustration evidently increased.

The defining moment came when you feigned a low strike, prompting Sihtric to lower his defence. In a split second, you changed your trajectory, using his momentum against him. He stumbled, caught off guard, and with a deft move, you closed in, swirling around, striking his blade hand and burying your shoulder in his stomach. Sihtric could only gasp watching his blade flying out of his grasp, himself landing roughly on the dusty ground.

A wave of cheers washed over the grounds. Standing tall, you extended a hand to a visibly dazed Sihtric, sitting in the dirt. 

Finan's smirk was hard to miss as he chuckled, "Told you so. You just wouldn't listen." 

The next morning as you arrived at the training grounds, Sihtric was already there, engrossed in sharpening his sword. Every stroke showed his focus, so much so that he didn't seem to notice you approaching. You hesitated for a moment before turning away to begin your own regimen, keenly aware of Sihtric's discreet glances in your direction as you practiced.

Finan approached, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Waiting for someone, Sihtric?"

Sihtric shot him an annoyed look. "Just making sure my blade is sharp."

Osferth, joining them, chuckled. "He's been 'making sure' that for the past hour, you can use that blade for shaving!"

Sihtric sighed, "Alright, alright. I was thinking of...you know...asking her to spar. But..."

"But you're too chicken to ask?" Finan teased.

"It's not that. It's just... What if she feels I'm challenging her?  Or worse, trying to show off?" Sihtric shifted uneasily.

"Why don't you just be direct?" Osferth suggested. "Ask her if she'd like to train with you. Simple."

Before Sihtric could reply, you approached, having noticed the trio's discussion. "Something interesting you're talking about?"

Finan, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked, "Sihtric here was just about to ask you something."

Sihtric shot Finan a glare but took a deep breath, "I was...uh...wondering if you'd be interested in...you know, sparring with me? No challenges, just...training."

You looked at him, a playful smile forming on your lips, "Took you long enough to ask. Let's see what you've got."

And so it began. Soon your sparring sessions became a regularity, a steady part of each day. 

Despite Sihtric's prowess and experience, he found himself continuously challenged by your fluidity and swiftness. Every parry, every counter-attack showcased your undeniable skill and he dug deep into his experience and strength to avoid repeating his previous mistake. 

And while the warrior in him thrived in the challenge, the man in him was captivated by you in a way he had not expected.

The effortless elegance of your movements, the way your hair swayed synchronously with your strikes, glinting in the sunlight, were hypnotic. Your lean body, a perfect fusion of strength and grace, resembled an alerted wild creature, ever vigilant and prepared.  

The way your cheeks turned rosy from exertion, the never fading spark in your eyes, full of determination, yet always bright with mischief and joy, your contagious laughter – all this and a thousand other small subtle things captured Sihtric's heart and endeared you to him.

Your wit, as sharp as your blade, was an allure in its own right. The fire with which you defended your views and opinions only deepened Sihtric's respect for you. And the way you never missed a chance to playfully tease those around you placed you at the same level as Finan. In between rounds, even out of breath and exhausted, you would always find a strength to throw a joke, your laughter infectious, lighting up the surroundings. Sihtric often found himself anticipating these moments more than the actual sparring.

Sihtric clearly recalled that one day, after a particularly intense round with both of you breathless and drenched in sweat, his eyes had scanned your form, an unfamiliar sensation washing over him. Unbeknownst to him, he had found himself admiring you – undeniably a skilled and formidable warrior, but also a woman, such a beautiful woman, radiating passion, intelligence, and resilience. In that instant, a warmth spread through his chest, an undeniable pull that made his heartbeat quicken.

—--------------------------------------------------

Lost in his memories, Sihtric failed to see a stray branch on the ground. It snapped sharply under Sihtric’s foot, its sound carrying in the stillness of dawn. Startled, your eyes met his visibly sheepish expression. 

There was a lingering pause, stretching a bit too long. With a mischievous smirk, you finally broke it. "Do the riverside reeds make for good hiding spots, Sihtric? Or are you merely lost?"

Taken aback, Sihtric stumbled over his words. "I... I didn't mean to intrude. I was just—"

"Sightseeing?" you teased, arching an eyebrow playfully. 

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. "Honestly, I didn't expect anyone to be here. My apologies."

You chuckled, clearly enjoying the rare opportunity to see the usually composed Dane flustered. "Next time, maybe announce your presence with a song or dance. At least then I can join in the fun."

He laughed, the tension easing a bit. "Noted. I'll work on my riverside entrance."

You flashed him a grin. "See to it. And perhaps, I'll give you a show worth watching."

The mortified look, appearing on Sihtric’s face, made you laugh. 

“Since you’re here, maybe you can help?” you asked, showing him a small blade in your hand. 

Sihtric’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Help you? How?” 

"These," you tug at your locks, "get in the way and that can be an unnecessary distraction during a battle. It might look less disastrous if you’d help cut them."

Sihtric looked surprised, “It’s just hair. Why not simply braid them?"

Your eyes darted away, "Never learned that skill. Gisela, Hild, and others always do it for me. But they won't be accompanying us. I'm left with few options."

Sihtric chuckled. "So, the master of swords is defeated by braiding?"

You shrugged with your shoulders. "We all have our weaknesses."

Sihtric's gaze lingered on you, his heart's tempo subtly quickening. "Well, lucky for you, I've been braiding my hair for years. If you'd trust me, I could assist."

Amusement glinted in your eyes. "Sihtric, the fierce warrior, a hairdresser? That's an unexpected turn."

Feigning affront, he winked, "Hey, a man can have many talents!"

Nodding, you handed him a comb. "Then, let's give it a whirl."

"Come," Sihtric gestured, spreading his cloak by a willow's expansive root. 

How attentive, you mused, not with surprise, but merely acknowledging what you already knew. That’s how he was. Beneath the rough and reserved exterior of the stern warrior you had long discovered the tender inner core of an exceptionally warmhearted man – always loyal, ever attentive and a deeply caring friend. 

With an amused smile on your face you settled down onto the cloak, with Sihtric positioning himself behind you, his legs framing you supportively. The touch of his fingers, as he began combing and later skillfully weaving your hair, sent a frisson down your spine. And you let yourself drift away in memories as you listened to him humming a soft tune.

—-------------------------------------------------

You loved the sparring sessions with Sihtric, which became routine soon after your first encounter. Every time you squared off against him on the training ground, a thrill surged through you. It wasn't just the sparring, but the challenge he presented. He was a formidable opponent, hardened in countless battles. Every stance, every move, every counter spoke of his experience.

Your initial easy victory against him was a sweet memory, but the more you trained with him, the more you realised that it had been quite a stroke of luck. Sihtric had underestimated you, causing him to be less vigilant and overly hasty. Now, with every session, it became clearer that keeping up with him demanded all of your skill and focus.

Sihtric's unique combat rhythm was unpredictable. His strength was palpable, not just in his powerful strikes but also in his unwavering stance, making it challenging to catch him off guard as you had during your initial spar. Every session was a blend of instruction, challenge, and exhilaration, all of which you embraced wholeheartedly.

One particular day remained etched in your memory. After an intense bout, with both of you drenched in sweat and panting for breath, you leaned against a tree to recover. Your gaze naturally drifted to Sihtric. He was bent over, hands on his knees, his chest heaving, catching his breath, every muscle defined beneath his sweat-soaked tunic. While you had always respected his martial prowess, that day, an unfamiliar warmth spread within you, accompanied by a flutter you couldn't identify.

You watched as he straightened up, brushing off the dirt and sweat. A stray strand of hair fell onto his forehead. An unexpected urge overcame you—to reach out and tuck it away, brushing your fingers against his skin. You were taken aback by this newfound sentiment. What was that? 

Your heart raced, not only from the exhaustion of the spar, but from this unexpected surge of emotion. Memories flooded your mind — flashbacks of your shared laughs, the lingering, hidden glances, the melodic timbre of his soft voice as he shared stories by the fireplace. 

You shook your head, trying to dispel these thoughts. It was just the exhaustion playing tricks on your mind. And yet, you couldn’t resist stealing another glance, captivated by the way his lips curved into a smile as his eyes locked onto yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

As you both wrapped up, the typical teasing that was so common between you both   seemed charged with a new energy. Was it just you, or did he feel it too? Something deep within you had shifted giving way to emotions unknown and unintelligible for you, something you weren't quite ready to admit, even to yourself.

—--------------------------------------------------

Now, as you sat nestled between his legs, Sihtric almost regretted his impulsive offer to braid your hair. Had he overstepped? Yet, the allure of the moment was undeniable and too compelling to resist.

His fingers gently caressed your hair, the silky locks gliding seamlessly through his grasp. Every touch sent an electrifying jolt through his entire body, the strange feeling both excited and unnerved him. This closeness was a strong contrast to your sparring sessions—no blades, no shields, just the two of you, closer than a hand's reach. 

His heart pounded loudly in his chest. Every sweep of his fingers, every touch of your hair sent a thrill coursing through him, stirring emotions and making his fingers tremble slightly.

The world around slowly faded. Every twist, every intertwining strand tightened an unexplainable knot in his stomach, every occasional brush of his hands against your neck made him yearn for more. The warmth of your back against his torso, the subtle scent that lingered, the softness of your hair—it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

He leaned in slightly, his breath uneven, lips mere inches from your head. Every second stretched, deepening his yearning.

The braid was almost complete, but Sihtric took his time, savouring the moment, cherishing each touch. He was in love, deeply so, and while he was not yet ready to speak it out loudly, the intimacy of this moment seemingly spoke volumes.

“You are ready, fair warrior,” he finally whispered, his voice bringing you back from your reverie. 

Your fingers gently touched your head, where your ever dishevelled locks had been transformed into three neat strands, overflowing into one braid trailing down your back. Springing up, you dashed to the water to glimpse your reflection.

"Guess I won't need this blade for a haircut after all," you mused clearly impressed, sliding the knife back into its sheath.

Sihtric's eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and mischief. "I did say I had a knack for it."

You chuckled, "Thanks, Sihtric. I’m in your debt."

He shrugged, his casual demeanour back in place. "Just promise to show me a new sword move or something. That would square us, right?"

You grinned, "I've got a better idea. Teach me to braid, and someday, I might offer the same service to you."

"My lady, braiding isn't as straightforward as swordplay. It's an art form. If you wish to have the privilege of braiding my locks, you've got a lot to learn,” Sihtric smirked in response.

And so, the remaining week before departure a new dimension was added to your training sessions – Sihtric became your braiding instructor. You profoundly wondered how he had managed to persuade almost all the small girls in the whole village to sit patiently as his fingers, interlaced with yours, guided you through the intricate process, showing you the weaves and twists, demonstrating how to put pearls and beans in the hair and fasten the braids. 

You were amazed by the delicacy and deftness of his rugged hands, contrasting sharply with your own efforts that often left stray hairs or twisted sections that unravelled the entire braid. And one day, the mystery surrounding the patience of the small villagers was unravelled when you saw Sihtric remove one of his silver rings, handing it to one of the girls. A smile played on your lips at the sight as you realised he was actually paying in silver to have you taught to braid. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------

You sat beside a crackling fireplace, the camp sprawling amidst the trees with tents everywhere around you. An unmistakable tension permeated the air, as it always did on the eve of battle. Some warriors sought solace in ale, others meticulously sharpened their already perfect blades, while some gathered around the fires, sharing stories and seeking comfort in the company, driven sleepless by anticipation. There was no one else at your fire, sitting alone on a fallen log, you hugged your knees, immersed in thoughts, when a warm hand settled on your shoulder.

“Ever fought in a battle before?” Sihtric asked, taking a seat beside you, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “Don’t take me wrong. I know how good you are with the blade. But fighting one to one is different.”

“I know, you’re right and yes, I have. And I will not pretend that it doesn’t scare me. Only a fool would pretend to not fear the chaos of the battle,” you looked up to meet Sihtric’s gaze. “But don’t mistake my fear for weakness. Don’t  think I will waver just because I’m a woman. I proved you wrong once and I’ll do it again, if needed.”

“You’ve nothing to prove to me. I just… I…” Sihtric struggled to find the right words. He wanted to ask you to stay by his side, so that he could protect you, shield you from harm, but he couldn’t find the right words to express that without insulting you. He understood that especially now after you had voiced your suspicion that he still didn’t trust you enough, there was no way of saying what he had intended to. You were a warrior, and he had learned his lesson not to doubt it, he respected that. And yet you were a woman. A woman he loved and cherished so deeply that the mere thought of harm befalling you was agonising and driving him to the brink of madness.

You looked expectantly at Sihtric, waiting for him to finish his saying.

"Could you... braid my hair for the battle tomorrow?" he finally blurted out, his cheeks warm, silently grateful that the fire's shadows hid his flush.

The surprise in your voice was evident. "You'd entrust me with that?"

Sihtric didn’t answer, his eyes full of strange anxiety didn’t leave yours and you swallowed back the joke that was already almost rolling over your lips. 

His eyes, swirling with a mix of vulnerability and intensity, never left yours. He hesitated, before answering, "Among the Danes, there's an old belief. Having your hair braided by someone you truly trust… brings good luck in battle."

The meaning of the words slowly sank into your mind, making a genuine smile appear on your lips. "Trust me, this will be my finest braid," you replied, gesturing for him to sit down in front of you. 

Sihtric slid down from the branch and settled between your legs. You reached out to touch his hair – dark, thick and curly and so pleasantly soft against your fingers, the sensation of the touch so unexpectedly stirring.

You began separating the strands, your fingers working with utmost care and concentration, as you started to pull and twist, enjoying the electrifying feeling of Sihtric’s hair brushing against your fingers. Each strand you took, twisted and wove into the pattern of your choice reminded you of the time you both spent together the last few days. His strong arms wielding the blade like a toy, his face covered with sweat, his concentrated gaze and furrowed eyebrows, as he looked for a weak point in your defences, his genuine laugh at your jokes, his fingers intertwined with yours, teaching you to braid. 

Sihtric shuffled between your legs and you felt a warm flush rising to your cheeks as he leaned back nestling more comfortably between your thighs. 

Your eyes, usually so sharp and observant, softened as they concentrated on the task and you unconsciously bit your lower lip. First small braids on the sides, then some more a bit higher and then the middle one – twist after twist the braids started to take shape, as you meticulously weaved each strand, ensuring not a single one was overlooked or twisted wrongly. 

You tied off the ends and marvelled at your own work, not wanting to let go, to allow this magical moment to end, your fingers remained lingering, tangled in the free curls on the back, and you brushed them gently against the nape of his neck. The touch was fleeting, almost too tender to be noticed, as your fingers slid over his skin for the briefest moment in an unconscious attempt to communicate feelings you were not yet ready to express in words.

Drawing back, pride filled your gaze, your hands resting on Sihtric’s shoulders. "There," you whispered. “You’re ready for the battle.”

You felt Sihtric shudder under your touch, his arms lifting to clasp your hands, pulling them gently to his face and placing a soft kiss on your right palm. 

"Thank you," his voice was husky with emotion, though he didn't turn around to face you. You felt like there was something in the air, something electrical, something unspeakable and indescribable, and you wondered whether it was the looming battle or the accumulation of the suppressed feelings and emotions or maybe both. 

Sihtric slowly touched his braids, a hint of smile playing on his lips. He had finally found the right words. 

“Promise me something,” he murmured, finally turning to face you. “Promise to stay by my side tomorrow. I need to know my left is guarded by such a skilled and formidable warrior as you.” 

You looked in his mismatched eyes, feeling a warmth enveloping you. 

“I promise,” you whispered, lowering yourself down next to Sihtric and almost melting at the feeling of Sihtric’s strong arm enveloping your shoulders, pulling you closer and wrapping his warm fur coat around you both. You leaned against him, the warmth of the fur, combined with Sihtric's steady heartbeat, making the world outside seem to blur. There were no words needed as he held you in his unwavering embrace, the silence between you both and the profound comfort of simply being speaking volumes on their own.

As the night wore on and the camp around you finally slowly drifted into sleep, you both remained wrapped in the coat, holding onto each other and the softness of the moment. His arm, strong and secure, held you close, while your head rested on his shoulder. It was a solace, a reprieve from the world outside, and a reminder of what is worth fighting for, the embrace becoming a silent promise—to stand by each other, come what may.

—----------------------------------------

The battle was over. Sihtric rose to his feet pulling his axe from the dead body, his eyes  searching his surroundings for another enemy to release his anger over, but none remained. The ground, once firm and unyielding, was now a morass of muddied, trampled grass, blood, and the footprints of countless boots and hooves. 

Abandoned weapons littered the field, gleaming dully. Swords, spears, and shields lay strewn around, some half-buried in the earth, others still clutched by lifeless hands. Bodies of the fallen were strewn across the landscape, and vultures were already circling overhead. Small groups of men searched the field for survivors. 

Sihtric looked around and a pang of dread constricted his heart. He still remembered you beside him when the enemy's shield wall shattered. He remembered the fierce look in your eyes, the way you leaped at some random man swinging his axe at you. You had looked like a goddess of war, stabbing, chopping, parring, dancing around your enemies with an ease only you were capable of. But then Sihtric had lost you out of his sight. He had turned to face a big, red faced Dane swinging his impressive war axe at him and when he turned back, his hands smeared with blood pouring out of the Dane’s neck, you were gone.

The air was thick with a mixture of smoke, blood and filth, as Sihtric roamed the battlefield, shouting your name, his face pale and eyes darkening in despair with each moment there was no answer, his breathing growing laboured and hope waning. In the very moment when despair threatened to consume him entirely, he finally spotted you, sitting on a fallen tree at the rand of the battlefield. You sat there with your face, hands and your whole armour smeared with blood, breathing hard, your sword driven into the ground and serving as a support for your arms. 

Rushing to your side, Sihtric knelt before you, his hands framing your face. "Are you hurt? Is that your blood?" he asked, his eyes wide, anxiety plainly written on his face.

“I’m fine. Just a few scratches. Nothing that won’t heal by the next new moon.” 

“Don't ever do that again.” Sihtric murmured, his voice just a hush, pressing his forehead against yours. “For a short moment I thought I’d lost you. Believe me, I’ve never been so scared in my whole life.”

Your fingers slowly touched Sihtric’s face, tracing the lines and scars on his face, your eyes locked. Sihtric’s thumbs gently caressed your cheeks as he slowly, deliberately began to lean in. The space between you both diminished, charged with an electrifying tension, as you felt the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

His fingers brushed your neck, and as you closed your eyes, you felt the tender, hesitant pressure of his lips meeting yours.

“I love you, my fierce warrior,” Sihtric whispered against your lips, “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“And I love you too,” you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible, melting against the gentle touch of his lips against yours. 

It wasn't a fiery, passionate kiss. It was a gentle, lingering one, full of unspoken words and emotions, a culmination of all the shared glances, soft touches and unspoken feelings that had built up between you. It was a deliberate melding, like two flames coming together to form one and every nuance of the kiss spoke volumes—the delicate way Sihtric’s fingers cradled your jaw, the soft brush of his thumb across your cheek, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer. 

“Hey, your braids are still intact. I did well, didn’t I” you laughed as you both pulled back, gasping for air.

[jonesthefightingtiger]

Inspiration struck me in the oddest of ways today. I've encountered a YouTube video on a TikTok series for the Total Drama Island AU, "Island of Slaughter," by @eavee-ry (Awesome work!). The concept is both creative and brutal, adding plenty of story and depth to these characters and creating a sort of "survival game" to it with the angry spirits. Because I liked the concept of spirits pretty much existing because of horrible deaths, I figured I could create a Mouthwashing horror AU (as if it wasn't horror enough) called "The Adderal AU," where Jimmy was the only survivor of the Tulpar crash and no one ever doubted he was innocent. Rather than return to the wreckage of the Tulpar, he spends his "well-earned" life doing his job. No matter where he went, the memories lingered. As always, fanart for this AU is encouraged and highly appreciated. I'm more of a writer than a drawer, so seeing your styles would make me giddy with joy!

Without further ado, let's go and get started!

TW!!! Blood and Gore and implied SA

Daisuke Juarez-Kida

"Mercy Ruler"

Location: Ulysses City University

Don't Lose

Daisuke was quite a breath of fresh air to some, a chatterbox to others, you included. Still, he had plenty to live for, and enough time to grow. A shame his life was cut short, quite literally with an axe to his sunny face. You knew this the most out of everyone that he deserved to live, Jimmy. The guilt obviously consuming you proves that. What could be home runs were now fouls, corked out of the playing field. But you never cared much for sports, did you?

You will encounter him when you decide to take a stroll by the football field after your big speech about space ship safety in Tech Studies class, as you called it. He will stand there with the wrong gear for football, but you realize that he's playing an entirely different ballgame altogether. His arm, now replaced with a modified baseball pitcher, will start aiming your way as he decides you will become the sole player for dodgeball.

I hope you're good at track and field when he's at your heels.

Anya Musume

"Maddened Mother of Medicine"

Location: Highland General Hospital

Don't Disturb

A sweet woman with a knack for clever quips and smart plans for helping others. Clearly, it wasn't in her plan to let you help yourself with her body. And it definitely wasn't in her plan to down those pills, but it was the best plan to painlessly kill two beings at once.

No one has a plan, they just do what comes naturally to them. The best leaders do. That sounds about right to you, Jimmy? Sickening, almost as if it nauseated you to think about it. That's probably why you found yourself walking into a hospital.

And speaking of- No... You shouldn't speak. This nurse has a strict "No Noise" rule here. Noisiness can make the room feel dirty, and she wouldn't dare let the room fester with dirty words, or dirty thoughts. You will see a woman looking down at you, eyelids so baggy they can catch tears. Her fingers have sickening, metallic protusions jutting out, which you can easily detect as needles. She reeks of various cleaning chemicals. The nurse had unwillingly become a janitor, finding a single dirty breath to sanitize. Do not weep out to her when she catches you and sanitizes you from the inside out. You asked for this. Why did she of all people have to clean up your mess? Why did she have to be left feeling filthy?

Swansea Harold

"Ugly Duck"

Location: Cygnet Park

Don't Judge

Swansea was many things to Pony Express. Abrasive. Cynical. A stickler for the rules. But his experience gave him a better understanding of his crew, even when he didn't show his care for others in the most obvious ways.

And you shot him down. Like a rabid old dog.

Was it the right thing to do, you think to yourself. Knowing you, Jimmy, you've already justified it. You had to do it, or no one else would have survived. Or rather, you wouldn't have.

And now, you were watching the swans and other water fowl swim about in this peaceful park, taking the edge off.

Did you know that swans are highly territorial creatures? They won't hesitate to attack if they feel provoked, or feel that their families are in danger.

You'll sense dread within your soul when you hear heavy flaps over you. Do not look up, Jimmy. The sky is his for the taking. Do not look at the reflection of the lake. That's also his. Don't start running off, because the only path is through the cattails, which can break off with a loud snap. You're in the home of the Axe-Beaked Swan, now, so it would be wise to respect it and its home. In his life cycle, like most swans, he starts off as a familiarly ugly mallard-looking chick. When he grows older, though, the only thing ugly would be your face on the grassy ground if he catches your sight towards him. You were always unable to bury the hatchet. Which is why you're on his chopping block.

Grant Curly

"The Marred Phoenix."

Location: Kensington's Museum of Failures

Don't Lie

This is where it all started. The winged horse that crashed and burned. After Pony Express went out of business, it was natural to man yourself in the logistics side of the A.I driven ships, even though you had ample amounts of experience as a co-pilot and acting captain. The truth is, Jimmy, you've already crashed. This ship, where you escaped death, was your failure. I suppose a captain going down with his ship doesn't matter when everybody else is dead.

But such things... They are upsetting to me. It makes my blood boil. You can feel the flames. You can hear the shaky exhales. This firebird may be tired, but he will not be snuffed out. To make up for the lack of limbs, wings have grown out of the stubs. Every swoop will rise the temperature significantly. You will sweat. You will burn. You will melt. This is the hell you've made for yourself. And let me be honest with you, as a friend who thinks you need a real heart-to-heart with someone:

I HOPE THIS HURTS

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (14)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: T Words: 1.2k Summary: Florence Fucking Nightingale

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

She’s passed out when he comes back with the gear he’s salvaged. Not a one of them assholes was carrying more than basic first aid which makes them ignorant as well as useless in his opinion. He’d drug the bodies a fair distance away, rolling them down a hill into a nearby ravine. Hopefully it would be enough to keep the scavengers away.

There was already too much blood in the air.

Dropping the things he’s found to the floor he stirs up the fire, hoping the smell of it will cover her injury. Then he digs in her pack, searching for what she bought from the trader. There’s a couple more packs of Rad-Away, and the bottle of Rad-X.

“You didn’t buy any damn stimpacks?” he growls, glaring at her from the corner of his eyes. “What kind of idiot-”

He stops himself before he can go further. Maybe he should have paid better attention at the trading post - maybe they hadn’t even had any stims. He’d been too caught up watching for trouble he’d barely paid attention to them.

“Looks like we’re doing this the old fashioned way.”

He pours antiseptic over a pair of needle nose pliers and unstoppers the bottle of rotgut he finds with his teeth. Crouching next to her he pulls his gloves off and gently tilts her face up, pressing the bottle to her mouth.

“This is going to taste like the south end of a northbound mule, but you’ll thank me later.”

She splutters but he manages to get a good amount down her throat before she refuses to take any more. He lets her lay back down then cuts at the dress near her waist, exposing the wound. It’s jagged, likely not a recycled bullet, and has all the makings of an infection.

“I am sorry about this,” he tells her before settling one hand on her stomach to hold her still. The hand holding the pliers wavers only a moment before he digs in.

“Son of a-”

“Hush,” he chides softly, barely glancing up at her as he applies more pressure to hold her still. “I gotta get this outta you before it festers.” She lets out a whimper and what’s left of his heart turns over. “Talk to me, darling, keep your mind off the pain.”

“About what?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Anything you want.” Whatever she was shot with isn’t coming up easy and he resigns himself to having to dig. “Why’d those boys call you Daisy Mae?”

“Daisy Mae Jackson, Hollywood’s Honeypot.”

He freezes, tilting his head up at her. Now that she says it… “You look a bit like her.”

“I look a lot like her.”

Daisy Mae Jackson was before his time, she’d been an elderly matriarch off the stage when he was still coming up, and her movies weren’t the kind he was much into. But he remembered the films, the gossip that had surrounded her six marriages, the ignominious end in Palm Springs.

“She your grandma?”

“Something like that.”

“What do you mean ‘something like that’?” He asks it more sharply than he intends but he finally found the damn projectile and it’s slippery as a fucking eel.

“I’m her clone.”

The thing slips through the pliers once again and he curses under his breath, wiping at the wound with a cloth and glaring, barely listening to her. “Never knew she had any kids.”

She laughs and he looks up at her face, frowning. “What’s so funny?”

“Not related, same person. Kinda.”

The words finally sink in and he gawks at her. He’d thought she’d looked kind of familiar when he first saw her. But now - she’s a dead ringer for Daisy Mae Jackson in her prime.

“Vault?” Is all he can think to ask.

“Kinda, more of a… facility.”

“Lot of you down there?”

“Off and on.”

He finally catches the edge of the thing and slowly retracts it, breathing a sigh of relief when it comes loose entirely. It’s a bit of scrap metal, ringed red with rust and blood.

“You’re liable to have some trouble from this.”

“I’m always in trouble,” she jokes weakly, giving him a wane smile.

He drops the pliers to the side and reaches for the antiseptic. “Don’t reckon I’ve met a clone before.”

“Well I’ve got a few sisters if you want to go look.”

A thought occurs and he glances back at her, “Thirteen perhaps?”

She nods, holding her hand up and putting her thumb and forefinger almost next to each other. “Missed unlucky thirteen by this much.”

“What happened to the others?”

“Can we not?” She asks suddenly, reaching for the rotgut. Before he can say anything she takes a massive swig, spluttering at the taste before taking another. “I’m gone from there, I’m not going back.”

He can’t help but wonder how badly they might want her back. Say, 5,000 caps worth?

There’s no more talking while he bandages her up, taping the edges down and frowning at his work. It doesn’t look like it’s going to hold for long - he’ll need to keep a close eye on it. She continues to drink like a fish while he cooks up a bit of bounty hunter. She’d never said anything off about the bits of man-jerky he’d been feeding her - and what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

“Here,” he passes a piece to her, his back propped against the side of the cot, “you need to eat something.”

She chews slowly, cracking an eye open to look at him. “I wanna kiss you, you know.”

“Oh?” He tries not to sound too interested. She’s three sheets to the wind and as liable to pass out as give him state secrets.

“Yeah,” she drawls the word, making it take several seconds.

“Why don’t you?” he asks, not looking away from the fire.

“Can’t. Not ever.”

Suddenly her hand is grasping his shoulder in a viselike grip and he nearly falls over in shock when she sits bolt upright. “Darlin’ I-”

“Promise me. Promise me you won’t ever try.”

“I…” Her eyes are wide with fear and he covers her hand with his. “I swear it.”

She nods in return, falling back to the cot. He frowns at her and searches for his pack, tucking it under her head.

“Anything else you want me to-?”

A delicate snore interrupts him and he snorts. He shifts so he can check her bandage, worried she might have aggravated the wound with her theatrics. He ain’t no doctor, it might have been better to leave it exposed, but with things the way they were it just felt like keeping the dirt out of it was the best course. Anyway, it looks good.

Real good.

He frowns and touches the edge, near the open wound. It had been a bit bigger in his memory, big around as a brass button. Now it was no larger than his thumbnail.

A clone of a Hollywood star who healed almost as fast as he did?

“Who the fuck are you?”

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[janicekao]

May

The Gods Allow It

Pairing: King Aegon II x Black oc (dark smut) Summary: Based off of the series "House Of The Dragon." During a day of sitting on the irone throne and listening to the requests of the people of King's Landing, the young King Aegon sits through it clearly bored and unamused until he lays eyes on a beautiful woman who he has never seen before... A girl who is the daughter of King's Landing’s finest Blacksmith, Lady Tabitha Atkins. Warnings: mideival fantasy, time piece, rough s3x, d0m&femsub, vi0lence, smut, v1rginity taking, mentions of !ncest, fan fiction, br33ding k1nk, praise k1nk, etc. 9438 words I also recommend viewing the story in Wattpad where I was able to use 20 photos in the story instead of tumblr's 10. Wattpad link:

Enjoy my babies <3 -----------------------------------

Our bodies glisten with sweat as I throb inside of her tightening cunt, so very deep in her core that my swollen cockhead brushes against her cervix each time she bucks.

She loves it.

Voice whiny and full of sweet whimpers as she reaches for her climax, biting her bottom lip, and infatuated with how full she feels as she impales her cunny on my every inch.

I've lost count of the days since she's been here, and I have no hopes of her ever leaving.

Tabitha Atkins of King's Landing, daughter of Sir Joseph Atkins, the town's finest Blacksmith.

The absolute love of my life.

———

A far cry from a year ago or so, I sat the iron throne listening to all of King's Landing who came to their King with requests. My people were starving, poor, and in need of help. Families complained of starvation, farmers wished to be paid for their livestock that are eaten by our dragons, and the Blacksmith wanted payment for the many swords he slaved over hot fires to make my knights gear and weapons for war.

I honestly couldn't have cared less.

An elder half sibling of mine believes that she is the rightful heir to the iron throne, and because of this... War is now upon us.

I sat there that day lying to the faces of my people.

"You will be reimbursed for all that you have contributed for the sake of the crown." I yawned nonchalantly. "I, as King Aegon Targaryen II of all the seven kingdoms promise to take care of King's Landing first, after our victory in the Battle of Throne."

I knew it wasn't true, but I still said it. I am the King of Westeros, I'll forever take what is needed to protect my rights to the throne regardless of who may be affected in the long run. My dragons will be fed, and my men will be prepared for battle if any means necessary... The crown always comes first.

My dishonesty to the faces of the loyal people of King's Landing became easier said than done when the face of the Blacksmith, Joseph Atkins came along with the presence of an angel...

I lost focus. I wasn't able to lie any further, at least not to him and his company.

Each time this Blacksmith visits the throne with requests, he is covered in soot from working tirelessly near the scorching flames that burn and shape his metal... That day, the girl beside him was covered in it as well. Clearly a relative and I needed to know more about her.

Who was the girl with the shimmering brown flesh, long legged with full lips, and a breathtaking scowl?

I needed to know.

Sir Joseph Atkins began to speak about the reimbursement he required for the perfectly crafted steel he had produced for the crown's army.

I interrupted him without a single care of the words escaping his tongue. "Who is she?"

"Her?" He asked as I nodded with haste.

The gentleman stood with a proud chest. "May I present to you Your Grace, my daughter. Tabitha Atkins of King's Landing. My greatest gift from the Gods, and my trusty assistant in the Steel shop."

"Tabitha."I repeated the name with a wide smile as the word melted from my mouth like delicious cream... Gods, what a sight to see. The Hall quaked with gasps as I stood from my very own throne and bowed lightly to the tawny princess that needed to be mine.

An enchanting furrow in the brow from the nerves that fell upon her, clearly afraid of me, being that I am the King. She had obvious ill thoughts about me and my character... However gracefully, she bowed in return anyway.

It was unfair the way that she was making me feel. How much she made me come out of my usual corrupt comfort; I became determined to make her feel it too. I wanted her to be just infatuated with me as I suddenly was with her.

"The King's hand will prepare your payment, Sir Atkins." I immediately gave way to anything that would make Tabitha happy. If it was to pay her father for his labor, then so it be. "The crown appreciates your loyalty and skill."

A smile and a breath of fresh air released from the man. "Thank you my King!"

"—Under one circumstance." I interrupted. "Leave here Lady Tabitha. I'd like to familiarize myself with other youth of King's Landing... I am the King, as well as a young man."

Man to man, Sir Atkins knew exactly what I wanted with his daughter. He froze with an uneasy scowl, knowing good and well that if he left his child here with me, she'd be spent across my cock by nightfall.

But I had no plans to harm her. I gave my word. "Just for a small gathering. Lady Tabitha will be well taken care of here at the Red Keep. She will be returned, unharmed."

The elderly gentleman turned to his daughter. He waited for her permission even if it meant that denying me of her could have caused him his own head. Proud, and brave, Tabitha nodded in agreement. She wanted no issues with the crown... eager to do very much anything if it meant the safety and dignity of her family.

That evening for supper, an extremely long table divided us. Tabitha at the end, and I at the head of the dining table. The chambermaids had turned her prettier than a portrait, yet she still sat unhappy.

"Your Grace, you promised a gathering." She hesitated. "However, it is only you and I dining together."

Clearly I withheld the full truth... But why else would I had invited others when it was only her who captivated my attention, my entire being.

"The servants do not count?" Gently, I teased and waited for a laugh that never came.

"No, your Grace." Tabitha cleared her throat and frowned. "They do not."

I began to grow tired of her attitude. It was clear that she was not keen of her King and that she did not plan to make this evening any less difficult.

Being a considerably spoiled young man, it fumed me how bad I wanted her to accept me. As the King, I could do with her as I pleased. If I wanted to, I didn't need to wait a second more for her to embrace me, I could have taken her however I wanted.

Her dress enticed me. The chambermaids had dressed her in a low neckline and in my favorite shades... Colors that danced across her dark skin like velvet.

Although I smiled, my thoughts grew more wicked each second.

So used to women and whores falling at my feet and being far less difficult, my mind turned into impatient mush. My cock ached to be taken out of its confinements. I imagined masturbating over her until I could watch my seed drip down her face, breasts, and dinner plate.

... But instead, I sighed and kept my cuth. "Tell me about yourself." I insisted on conversation.

She paused.

"I am the daughter of a Blacksmith." Uninterested with where this could take us, Tabitha sighed as she began. "I take pride in taking care of my family, my community, and especially my younger siblings."

"How lovely!—" I went on to sweetly boast about her caring nature when I became rudely interrupted.

Tabitha continued abruptly. "—These are the very same people who starve daily as your loyal peasants. Yet, we still fill our every day catering to the likes of you, Your Grace. Giving our everything to the crown when we can hardly fill our own bellies. Livestock that our people raise big and strong for years just to be swallowed whole by your God awful dragons when that meat could be salted and last man an entire year of keeping King's Landing fed and surviving."

"People, children are sick and dying!" Tabitha shouted. "Eating fish from the surrounding waters for their every course because it is the only thing that is plentiful around here! Well, I can assure you one thing Sir... Guts from a fish is far from the daily nourishment that YOUR people need to survive..." That is what I can say about myself, Your Grace. I am your subject, not your friend."

"WINE." She demanded and the servants fetched it quickly.

She began to feed like a swine piglet. Gulping down rich wine and licking the bones of her lamb chops clean.

She was hungry, and she hated me.

The disrespect was unfathomable. I began to flame red, never had ever been spoken to in such way in my entire life. I couldn't tell in the very moment if I wanted to kill her, or fuck her senseless.

But what I did know is that I couldn't say my piece from far across the table.

I rose to my feet and the servants began to gasp. I shouted for their dismissal and Tabitha tensed when we became very alone in the dining hall.

She was the naughtiest thing I'd ever laid eyes on and I couldn't wait to take a bite.

Sitting in a guest chair an inch away from her, I could smell Tabitha's fear. But if you were to look at her grimace... you'd have not an idea that she was afraid. I was pissed, but Gods... If she wasn't fit for a Queen, I wouldn't know who else could be.

"I welcome you to the Red Keep as an honorary guest, and you sit before me spitefully accusing me of things that are far over your head, Lady Atkins do you have a death wish?" I bit through my teeth as my face inched closely towards hers.

"I am honest." She gulped.

"And honesty will get you killed." I snapped.

My eyes enjoyed being able to watch her so closely.

"Look at you, complaining of being starved with not an inch of extra room in this dress!" I taunted her as I pinched at her deliciously full thighs.

Tabitha squealed at my touch, she swatted my hand as tears swole in her eyes. "I was forced here!"

"Forced?" I sarcastically chuckled. "Ah yes because you seem to be so mistreated with wine dripping down your lips that is more expensive than you are."

Her jaw ticked with rage. "I don't have a price, I cannot be bought. I am not a whore.

"I never expected you to be." I frowned, aggravated at her lack of eye contact as my fingers graced her chin and turned her gaze back to me.

"Your chamber maidens bathed me." Her voice became weak. She was embarrassed that I had called on her in front of her father, in front of all of King's Landing.

I loved how she stared at me for answers... Tabitha's large brown eyes swallowed me up as her tears continued to swell. "They styled my hair, forced me into expensive garments, and shaved my cunt bare."

A chill down my spine made me shudder at the thought of her being so soft and silky beneath her dress.

"I am here to be your whore, am I not?" She asked impatiently.

"No." I refused. "Not my whore, but you are here to be mine, yes. To be my whore I would've bedded you by now, without a care of getting to know you. When I met you today I became captivated by you, I want you to feel the same."

She immediately rolled her eyes with a rude ill-mannered scoff.

"Play immature games if you want to, Tabitha... But never in your life have you come to the iron throne with your father." I dug further into her true intentions as her chest rose and fell in anticipation. "Now what made you come this morning on the day of requests, hm? Answer me!Is it because you had a request yourself? Or maybe you wanted to see the rumored usurper king in the flesh? No— you came to let me lay eyes upon you, so you could play with my heartstrings. I believe you knew what you were doing all along, what do you think?"

...

Tabitha gulped, she turned away once more from my gaze as she continued with her supper. "I think perhaps you should leave my space and try the pudding, aren't you starved?"

"More than most." I snarled. "But not for fucking pudding."

Swiping the table clean, Tabitha's tray of royal cuisine met the ground.

I grabbed hold of her, lifting her onto the tabletop as I searched frantically beneath her skirt.

She gasped, immediately forgetting formalities as she shouted out my first name. "Aegon!"

"Hush." I demanded. "Let your King take care of you."

I ridded her small clothes as if I was a child unwrapping candy. I pressed her chest backwards, forcing her to lay against the table as the skirt of her dress crept above her waist.

Gods, she was as prepped and bare as she had promised. Between her thighs glossed over with the arousal she had been denying and her mound was bountiful like a deliciously ripe peach.

My mouth attacked at her without letting a drop of her nectar go to waste. The kisses I laid upon her clit made her jolt and whimper in desperation.

Tabitha's hands pushed away at me to the point of having to force her wrists to the table as I devoured my meal. I allowed her sweet digits back when they began to comb and grip lightly through my platinum-white Targaryen tresses.

Her moans were sounds of gratification... All I've ever wanted was someone, anyone to wish me a job well done. Commend me of my efforts and assure me that I was indeed a good boy. "Is it good for you?"

Her choked sobs were enough of an answer... Her flesh flushed red as her pussy began to pulse and I knew she would soon climax across my lips.

Tabitha's hips began to grind across my face as she reached urgently for her precipice. Her pleads made her voice crack as the sound of her brain-rot echoed through the dining hall. My thumb circled her pearl as my tongue dipped in and out of her core. She came with a flavorsome cry, I groaned into her pussy and drank her release like a man starved. My tongue soaked her sweet cum up as freshly baked bread does balsamic oil.

My trousers so full of sticky precum and a hard cock, it made me brutish. I lifted Tabitha in my arms bridal style as she lay tiresome and still in shock. I warned her of my plans... I warned her that I was to take her to my chambers and we were to spend the night... the coming days... the coming weeks and months with nothing but earth shattering sex. I was to take her maidenhead, and make her part of the Red Keep, part of me.The argumentative minx had not one issue with what I had informed her with. She no longer cared to save herself for a husband because in that very moment, I was just as much hers as she was mine.

I carried her out of the dining hall with orders to the Hand of the King of what I wanted completed.

"Have the cooks prepare the same supper and have it delivered to the Atkins residence." I demanded. "Make sure it's enough for them to share with whomever they may desire."

"Anything else Your Grace?" I was asked.

I stared in the round brown irises that won my heart over.

"Aye." I nod. "Gather the council by morning-fall. King's Landing is starving, their King needs to mend their trust. Rationing... will be the subject matter of discussion."

Otto Hightower, My Grandsire and King's Hand stared at me with looks of daggers... I could see that he saw me as a foolish King, changing plans and making differences for the likes of a woman... but I couldn't have cared less.

With the title of being King of Westeros, anything is possible and everything is in my hands.

Hightower bowed. "I will relay your message to the council, Your Grace."

I looked towards Tabitha and the scowl that stained her face was finally gone... Now left with a magnificent smile that seemed to be gifted by the Gods themselves.

Our lips met as we journeyed to my chambers. As I stole her maidenhead, she stole my heart. We drank, we laughed, I even found that we shared the very same night of birth under the summer season and full moon twenty-two years ago. She was me, and I was her. Finding her was the sense of completeness I had been looking for my entire life.

———

"Aegon! I hate when you do that." Tabitha complains. She takes notice to my quiet daydreaming as she continues to ride me as if I was saddled. "Focus on me, baby."

I chuckle sweetly as I find my bottom lip bitten between my teeth, refocusing on her tight cunny that chokes my manhood and drains my stamina. "I always am focused on you my love. I found myself reminiscing on the day that I made you mine. Nearly a year today, an approaching anniversary... Thoughts help me holdout a bit until you have reached yours, now it's my turn."

"Ah yes... The day I met you upon the iron throne. I should've known trouble was amongst me." Tabitha softly flirts.

"I waited." She begins to smile, whispering against my lips. "Wanted to reach ecstasy, together."

"Mmm." I hiss lightly, adoring her wildly. "Tabitha Atkins of King's Landing... I love you with every being of my body."

"Then show me." She insists.

...

I do as I'm told.

As I lay Tabitha onto her back, my hand slips across the soft skin of her belly, through the full globes of her breast, and to her throat where I begin to choke lightly. Her legs spread, inviting me into her warmth and it only takes a second for me to find my flesh sheathed in the depths of her core.

I find a rhythm that is rough and commanding and I watch her lips fall open with strangled gasps. Tabitha attempts at a wiggle to separate us. Wanting me to allow her a momentary second of rest before she melts into the sheets. However, overly dizzy for her sex, I refuse the escape... pressing my heavy body further against hers and deepening my impale. The walls of her cunt contract against my cock, I begin to feel numb and see stars as my words stammer dumbly. Gods... Her sex could rise a dead man from the ground, and I'm the only one lucky enough to have had it.

"Fuccckk." A groan escapes the depths of my throat as I nearly give in and spill into her.

Tears of passion fill her luscious lash line and she can only squeak out soft sounds as her digits grip the sheets beneath us.

Licking my lips like a hungered man, I begin to grin as I watch her in her blissful pleasure. I cup Tabitha's face and kiss her tenderly as the kisses create faint bruises down her neck and soon down her chest where I begin to enjoy the swirling of my tongue across her aroused buds.

"You looked incredible wrapped around my cock." I softly appreciate her breathtaking beauty.

I roll my hips in a speeding passion as my cockhead knocks impatiently at her g-spot. "Aegon— please."Tabitha weeps out a beg as her nails find way into my skin.

Her pussy sops for me, creating lewd music that echoes within the walls of my chambers.

My mouth hangs ajar as I moan out worships for her.

"Gods!" I complain. "My sweet girl, does that feel good?"

She nods immediately. "So good— so good, Aegon."

My pounding weakens as I feel the need to erupt. I grab Tabitha's full hips, dimpling them with the strength of my fingers as I stretch her with the full length of my cock... I bottom out into her until my sack is flushed against her cunt and begins to drain. Tabitha dissolves into pleasure as my hot seed spickets into her core while she reaches her peak.

I expel constant grunts, body jerking each time my cum stutters a bit of its load out of me until I am left limp and soaked in a mess of our love.

Tabitha's eyebrows furrow as she powers her way through an intense climax, legs shaking until the thrill passes by her. Her chest rises and falls as she draws in breath, soon beginning to chuckle in disbelief of the moment that we have shared together..

"Gods!" She pants sweetly. "Again, Aegon?"

I chuckle gently as I place a gentle peck to her lips. I begin to peel her knees further apart. My lip catches in between my teeth as my pupils dilate, watching closely at the foray I caused upon her pretty little mound.

"Let me watch it leak out of you." I insist as my body heats again with arousal while I  watch my pearly spend seep out of her pretty flower.

The corners of her lips begin to quirk upwards, teasing me gently as she pushes the semen out of her core and let it seep down her thighs.

My jaw clenches, eyes rolling back into my skull. "Fuck that's good, and you my dear— are terribly delicious and absolutely evil."

Tabitha finds her way to my chest, having me to lay backwards in the pillows and wrap my arms around her as she listens in on my heartbeat.

She sighs gently. "What's evil, is having to drink another of your Maester's tea."

"Aegon." Tabitha begins to pout over the awful medicinal herbal tea used to prevent or abort pregnancy. "If I am to drink another Moon-Tea, I think I'll die."

My hands gently comb through her wild mane of jet-black curls, full and thriving in its natural state after another day of addictive fucking. "So don't drink it... give me child, my dear."

She immediately lifts her head from my chest with a scorning frown. "You've gone mad."

"I haven't." I insist. "What will come of us? How will we create a stain, evidence of our love?"

"Aegon." She refuses the thought. "You and I cannot marry. You must marry a high-born, not the daughter of one of your subjects. Our children would be Targaryen bastards!"

"Yes!" I continue to plead. "Haven't you given it thought? My Targaryen hair, your tawny skin, and big brown eyes... the most handsome children in all of Westeros. They'll have it all. They will speak High Valyrian and ride their own dragon... Tabitha, please."

"Aegon, don't begin with this." Her refusal is unbending. She begins to dress in her nightgown, giving my voice not another thought. "With your hair, it would be clear that my children are Targaryen bastards. You'd be looked down upon as a whoring King, and I'd be looked down upon— well, as the whore!"

I scoff. "So we will wrap their hair in garment in the eye of the public if we must! It does not matter Tabby, they will be protected always and live under my roof as Princesses and Princes."

"You asked me if I have ever given it thought..." She rejoins me on the bed with a gentle hold to my hand. "I've thought about it every day since we've met, Aegon. Don't you think that I would love to be your Queen and have your children? It would be my dream to have a family with the man that I love. But sadly, that's all it will ever be, a dream.We both knew the risks of being together. We recognized that our relationship would be kept forever secret and we still went on about it. Aegon, please don't make this any harder than it already is."

Dying to continue the conversation, I even begin to imagine her womb full with my seed. I'd be sure to have the servants wait on her hand and foot... She'd wear the prettiest gowns, and her essence would make the Red Keep the most beautiful it's ever been as she would fill it with her fertility and grace.

However, the tears in her eyes pain me more to see... I can't bear to stress the situation any longer.

...

"Let's have a night of rest." I smile softly. "Only sweet dreams for thoughts."

I softly wipe Tabitha's fallen tears as she nods in agreement.

Becoming meek and childlike, she dissipates into my arms as I blow out the candles that light our chambers, and I tuck her into the satin sheets.

"Goodnight." I coo faintly. "No more worries my love, rest now."

———

Morning light stings my eyes as they begin to open, I find my dearest Tabitha above me, already dressed for the day.

I sit up from bed with playful and light jester. "Out of the many hours of morning sex that we should be having, why are you already dres—"

My words are cut short with a cruel slap across the face.

My ears ring from the forceful strike and when they finally stop, I find my lover absolutely distraught and in tears...

As my hearing comes back, my heart aches from the way that she sobs. "Tabitha?" I instantly whimper.

"You vile— sick, sick, man." The words grit through her teeth and I worry frantically for what it is that she has found out.

"YOU FILL ME WITH YOUR DISGUSTING SEED!" She begins in thunderous shouting. "You speak of a life where we are to have children together, when you have already fucked two inside of your own sister!"

My blood runs cold knowing that she knows my darkest regret... "I need to explain."

"I awaken early on the search for your Maester! For him to begin a batch of the Moon-Tea, and that is when I overheard it all!" Tabitha begins to lose color... her brown skin paling from heartbreak. "Your mother, the Maester, and your seventeen year old sister Helaena! She was lying on her back! Having an inspection by the Maester beneath her skirt when she was congratulated by him and your mother for bearing your twins! They congratulated her as the bloody Queen of Westeros!"

"Tabitha, damn it!" I spazz and my mind begins to spin with shame and anger. "The nerve of you to slither around your King's castle! Eavesdropping in on business of not your own!"

"FUCK YOU!" She spits. "I am so disgusted that I can hardly breathe without the need to vomit! Not only have you lied, withheld from me that you had already found your Queen and have been married! But for the sake of the Gods, SHE IS YOUR BABY SISTER!"

"DON'T YOU THINK I AM ALREADY DISGUSTED WITH MYSELF ENOUGH?" I stand to my feet to argue and my height frightens Tabitha enough to flinch at the tone of my voice. "I had no say in this Tabitha! Helaena and I hated the thought but it was pushed amongst us by the council! By our mother! They did not want just a high-born queen! They wanted the bloodline strictly Targaryen! This was forced upon us, Tabby!"

Tabitha's delicate hand graces her forehead as the other places on her stomach as she begins to feel even more ill. "You bedded your sister...Relieved yourself of pleasure inside of her..."

"Hear me when I tell you that it will only ever be once..." I tremble as I notice the love drain from in between us. "I was promised that giving the title of Queen to my sister and giving her an heir to the throne on our wedding night, that you and I would never have to separate... I was promised your very own knights of protection for you and your loved ones and that you all could live permanently here in the Red Keep. You are to by my only lover! Helaena maybe my Queen, but she and I view each other as only siblings!"

I clench my eyes tightly shut, reminiscing on the night I was forced to take my sister's virginity. I drank myself silly with wine just to bear it, and poor Helaena and I stuck it through for the sake of the crown.

"Gods! So now I am to blame for this incestral breeding!?" Tabitha scoffs. "You are absolutely sick in your head Aegon! I never would have agreed to this! EVER!"

As I step closer to her to beg for her forgiveness, Tabitha steps back.

"I must leave now..." She gulps. "I cannot— I cannot be apart of this, the Gods aren't happy."

"I love you." Tears begin to drop down my face and I stutter like a child being disciplined. "I need you. You cannot leave! I can— I can fix this."

I plead aimlessly. "I am the King of the seven kingdoms. You will never need nor want for anything regardless of your status here in the castle. You're mine."

She ignores me...

Tabitha wipes her tears and grabs for her cloak to leave the Red Keep through the secret exit.

Without a thought of what to do, I become a mad man... using my title and authority to get what I want.

"I AM YOUR KING!" My jaw ticks as I shout. "YOU ARE TO DO AS YOU ARE TOLD OR ELSE! YOU ARE MINE, TABITHA. I WILL NOT REPEAT MYSELF. I DEMAND YOU TO SIT DOWN AND GO NOWHERE UNLESS TOLD OTHERWISE!"

...

Tabitha freezes with tears and hatred burning within her eyes.

"Fine." She gulps, suddenly stripping out of her garments and lying back in bed. "As you make clear a million times a day or more, you are King Aegon Targaryen of the seven kingdoms. If you shall want me your Lordship, there is nothing I can do other than to continue being yours. But I'll have you know, from this day on I will never love you the same."

"Tabitha, please."I beg softly for her to stop the act of kissing loyally at my arse like the rest of King's Landing... I just want her back, I want everything the way that it was.

"Will you have me, or am I free to be dismissed your Lordship?" She lays on the unmade bed, still and avoiding eye contact.

"YOU WILL STAY!" I explode.

"Yes, Your Grace." She continues calmly. "I am ready to be used whenever you are ready to use me."

"What are you doing? Get up!" Her act of a common whore aggravates me further.

She continues anyway. "I am your loyal servant, Your Grace. Do as you please with my body."

"Get up!" My voice breaks as I continue to argue one-sidedly. "Quit with this foolishness. Your taunting is unacceptable!"

"Tabby, call me Aegon." I beg sheepishly. "Baby, I am your Aegon."

She continues robotically. "Whatever you ask, Your Grace."

I fully erupt. Grabbing hold of the full steel canister of wine, I throw it across the chambers until it hits the wall... crumbling stone to the ground from the force.

The throw startles Tabitha, she breaks out of her act and tearfully attempts to run past me. I grab hold of her wrists, pulling her into me as I beg for another chance. "Tabitha! Please! Please stop, I need you."

"Get away from me!" She fights senselessly, bruising herself as she tries to pull from my grasp.

The large double doors of my chambers open... The racket causes my mother Alicent to intervene. "What is going on in here!?"

"Mother!" I demand. "Out of my chambers!"

...

She watches upon the love of my life as if she was a stinky street harlot.

"You should leave." She speaks to Tabitha. "The King's Queen will be visiting her husband shortly."

"You mean his sister." Tabitha quickly bites.

...

"Aegon, I'll have your whore's tongue for less." Mother begins to boil over from the unfamiliarity of Tabitha's sharp tongue.

"No worries, Your Grace." Tabitha wipes her tears, bowing to my mother respectfully as she laces the last loop in the corset of her dress. "I was just leaving."

"Tabitha!" Although still bare and only wrapped in a sheet, I still attempt to chase after her as she exits. However, my mother stops me...

"It's for the best." Alicent's hand stops me at the chest. "A King who is at war over his throne does not have time to worry about the heart of a common girl. Aegon... You are King now. The responsibility of the crown is in your hands, act like it."

I watch my mother with pure hatred...

So quick to worry about the well-being of the crown, and never once the wellness of her children.

If she hadn't brought me life, I would have had the guards take her head many moons ago.

"Your chambermaids are on the way to dress you, my King." Mother smiles maniacally and caresses my face with her soft hand. "You must sit the throne today for King's Landing's requests... They need their King, Aegon. You'll have to let her go."

Let her go?

Easier said, than done.

Together, we watch Tabitha run out of the trailing hallways of the Red Keep.

Her image and the sound of her footsteps become smaller the further that she runs... And the further that she runs, the more prominent my heartache grows.

Mother stares in disgust. "She never had the strength of a Targaryen anyways... it wasn't meant to be."

Doing as told... I dress for the day as mother leaves.

Although I am escorted to the hall of the iron throne to answer the requests of my subjects, my eyes continue to fill with tears. I push them back, needing to find strength for my people. But, how am I to answer requests, when there is no one to answer my own?

Who is there to request a plead from a King? Perhaps the Gods...

Perhaps the Gods will fulfill my one and only request, to bring back the love of my entire being... My forever lady, Tabitha Atkins.

———

Three years later

I wake up in absolute agony, shouting for more Milk of the Poppy to dull my pain.

Ever since my incident, I tend to sleep all day due to the medicines given to me by the Maester. As I sleep, I either dream about the love that I lost years ago, or I dream about the terrible events of my most recent near death experience.

I've made awful decisions in my short term of being King, but nothing as bad as riding my dragon into a battle while being inebriated off of too much wine.

I had a death wish... A foolish one at that. But tired of living a life of depression, loveless, and never taken seriously... the mind will drive you to do insane work.

I may be the face of the crown, but my council and my mother feel that my ideas are idiotic and simple... They feel that I was never fit to rule, and that I should sit quietly and be useless, let them take control of the rulings of Westeros.

First they take a man's love, and then they take his power. What could be next now that they've taken it all?

I became careless with the things that I do... I decided to get wine drunk and I rode my poor dragon Sunfyre into the battle at Rook's Rest... A battle I had no business being at. Somehow I survived it... Third degree burns laced across my body, yet I am still here.

But the worst part of it all is knowing that the reason Sunfyre and I were burned to the ground was all out of one person's spite.

My own brother... Prince Aemond...

My last memory before everything went black for months was Aemond's dragon Vhagar opening his gullet of fire after Aemond's command.

"Dracarys." He attempted to kill me with this command.

I realized then how much I have absolutely no one in this life... Aemond, just like our mother Alicent, thirsty and jealous for the crown to the point of sabotaging their own blood.

My brother expected me to die that day. He expected to permanently become the King, but because I survived, he only fills my place on the throne momentarily...

As I become better, I still fear for my life. If he tried to kill me once, he is sure to try it again.

I spent my days childishly being my brother Aemond's first bully... and now I am reaping what I sewed. But as dangerous as he is, and the things that he is capable of doing... I could never trust the innocent people of Westeros in his hands, especially not with Tabitha Atkins and her family still living here in King's Landing.

With Aemond in charge, there will be war and there will be blood... Not just bloodshed from each fighting side, but deadly war crimes to Westeros' innocent subjects.

If all things are out of my control in this very moment, the least I can do is get word out to Lady Tabitha... thus I owe to her.

Grand Maester Orwyle enters into my chambers with more Milk of the Poppy, but being that there are things to be done... I cannot take it.

"Maester..." I begin. "No more Milk of the Poppy."

"But for your pain, Sire?" He frowns.

"I understand." Even the small things like gulping down my throat or speaking pains me in this day. "But my mind must stay sharp, I have a task I need you to complete with the guards... I need it done discreetly."

"Yes, Your Grace." Maester Orwyle nods. "Whatever you may need."

As I lay here, I begin to create a plan. I order the Maester to discreetly bring Lady Tabitha Atkins to my chambers here in the Red Keep. I ask him to bring help if needed be, knowing that Tabitha could good and well stubbornly refuse my command... I demand that if the girl attempts do dismiss Maester Orwyle, that he will instruct the guards to take her from the residence by force. Speaking with her is a dire need of mine not knowing what may happen in the future with my brother in charge as Prince Regent.

Maester Orwyle begins to leave with haste...

I stop him once more... Suddenly I become insecure with my injuries, wondering how my deformities look being that I haven't seen my reflection since my injuries were fresh.

"Maester." I gulp. "My skin... Am I able to even take a visitor, or am I still leaking of pus and absolutely hideous?"

Having to ask a question like such is the hardest thing I have ever done... I never in my life expected to ask another man if my flesh was still charred and horrid.

A tear rolls down my face and Maester Orwyle kindly takes my hand... "Your Grace..." He assures. "Your incident was months ago, although you may be forever disfigured, your skin has healed, and your heart is still gold. If the Lady ever truly cared for you, Sire... The last of her worries will be of your appearance."

...

His words stick with me... I begin to pray to the Gods that he is right. My only hope is that a moment within my gaze is enough to help Tabitha look past my monstrous image... Enough to let her hear me out for just a second of her time.

As I lay in bed, battered and bandaged, I continue to wait to see Tabitha's presence.

Three years have passed and I continue to think about her daily... I wonder if she has changed any, I wonder if she still hates me, I wonder if she's happy.

After many hours, my chamber doors finally open and Tabitha hurries in with haste. Tears melt down her cheeks as she crawls in beside me in bed and she lays on my scarred chest.

The weight of her body pains me a bit, yet I've never been more grateful to feel a pain in my life.

"Your Grace..." Maester Orwyle grins. "The guards were not necessary, when Lady Tabitha heard word of you being alive, she nearly beat us all here."

I immediately begin to sob. I wrap my arms around Tabitha tightly and Maester Orwyle leaves us to our long embrace.

Her curls smell of smoke and fire, clearly having been working in her father's steel shop. I inhale her missed scent deeply.

"I apologize Your Grace that I am not put together." Tabitha gulps. "I have soot and ash all over me. I've spent the day working with my father... There has been an order from Prince Aemond and the crown for a hundred swords by the end of the week or my father will be hanged!"

"Don't apologize." I insist. "You look glorious. Pretty as the very day that I met you at the iron throne. Fear not of your father's death... I'll be sure that it will not happen."

"Tabitha..." I gulp. "Why were you so willing to accept my invitation? I believed that you hated me for so long..."

"I did." She admits. "But we have had years apart, Aegon. I was able to mature and came to realize that you and Helaena were victims of something horrible... Victims of the unjust treatment of the crown's council, and forgive me for saying, but— the unjust treatment of your mother as well!"

"I know... I know."The thought of what the council forced upon my sister and I still haunts me to this day.

"I was disgusted... even a bit jealous the day that I left the Red Keep." Tabitha continues. "But what I regret the most is not standing up for you, my King. The news spread like wildfire through the streets of King's Landing... We saw your dragon, Sunfyre's lifeless body dragged through town and the rumor was that you were dead as well. When your Maester found me with the news of you being alive and wanting to see me, my feet never stopped running the cobblestones of the city until I was here in your very chambers... being able to see you for myself."

I begin to hate the way her eyes examine my body, I no longer look of the man she once knew. "I'm hideous."

"You're brave." She cups my face. "You are heroic and you survived a dragon's fire... A death that no man has ever escaped! King Aegon, stories and songs will be sang about you for centuries."

Tabitha smiles sweetly. "Cry not, Your Grace. You are a legend, and you are still here in the land of the living."

"Shall we change our thoughts to joy?" She asks with an enchanting giggle. "As I was led to your chambers, I heard youthful laughter in the courtyard. I assume they were your children? Your twins, a boy and a girl, yes?"

I pause... Not sure of how to relay the bad news out of my own mouth.

"At one time, yes..." I begin. "But as this battle for the throne continues, a criminal was sent to the Red Keep... As my son, my heir, slept in his crib... he was beheaded. My three year old child was murdered in his own bed by our enemies... His life, drug through the dirt and taken in war crimes to prove a point! To one up me for the throne."

...

Tabitha's eyes immediately glass over, turning pale and frozen with shock. "Gods... Aegon... I'm— I'm so sorry."

I softly refuse her pity. "I've done my share of grieving. I've cried until I dehydrated myself and my sister has not left her chambers since the day that it happened..."

I groan in pain as I sit up in bed with urgency "But this is what was so important for me to tell you. Dear Tabitha, the war has gotten out of hand. I believed that I was only fighting a half sibling for my throne, but it seems that I am fighting my full-blooded brother as well."

I continue to explain. "Tabby, in the battle at Rook's Rest my own brother Aemond is who burned me to the ground with his dragon... I realized then that every beating heart around me wants what I have. For the throne, there is no love lost... they will attempt to kill me for it, weaken me by killing the ones that I love most! After my boy was taken from me, I began to think of who else my heart beats for that my enemies could injure me with... My heart only is full for my children, and for you.A woman who time could not even stop me from loving."

"Tabitha, you're in imminent danger." I finally am able to warn her. "I called for you here today, knowing that my brother is out of the Red Keep running an errand... It was the only chance that I had for him not to see you."

Her head spins with all that I have to say... So much information that her and the rest of King's Landing have been kept from knowing all this time. "Aegon! And you are in danger as well! Your brother tried to murder you and now you still lay within the same walls of the Red Keep as him!? Has he come to you since?!"

"Daily." I admit. "Daily with threats to keep my mouth shut... Threats of keeping me unwell so I can never heal and come back to the throne. I lay in this bed, broken and exhausted... Afraid of every door creak, just awaiting and expecting Aemond to come inside and finish me off."

"Tabitha, I am terrified everyday." My voice begins to tremble. "But what is more frightening is imagining him come after you instead. My brother wants to see me pained and ill. As I lay nearly paralyzed in this bed, I can only imagine the evil he'd commit to break me further down. Aemond would have you captured. He'd bring you to these very chambers to beat, rape, and torture you in front of my very eyes, knowing that I am unable to stand and rescue you."

Poor Tabitha's eyes fill with fear.

"I am to leave King's Landing..." I continue. "A dear colleague of mine, Larys Strong is helping with my escape. He was born crippled, walking with a limp and a cane. He has taken pity on me now that I am crippled as well. Larys and I will escape King's Landing and he will take me to a proper place to heal and be protected from my brother and all who have ill intentions towards me. But the Gods know... I cannot leave this castle without knowing that you have escaped too. I will not leave, until I am absolutely sure that you are safe and out of King's Landing."

She begins to refuse. "My family and I— we cannot leave, Your Grace! We have very little means, we only get by each day by the grace of the Gods."

"The table, first drawer to the left." I interrupt. "Hurry Tabitha, make haste and come back to me."

...

Confusion eats at her before she is able to do as told. Sweet Tabitha sniffs her many tears back, wiping her eyes to see the contents of the drawer. She takes out a small burlap sack filled with coins of gold...

Gold shillings, that I have prepared for her to take.

Her eyes widen at the contents of the sack. "Your Grace, I cannot take this."

"You will." I demand.

"I won't!" Stubbornly, she hesitates.

I snap, drawing in the fullest breaths of air that my wounded lungs can hardly manage; I begin to shout. "Tabitha! Damn you! You will take it and you will flee to safety at nightfall, do you understand!?"

I begin to cough as the shouting drained me of my energy.

"Your Grace..." She cries. "I am not worthy of taking anything from you."

...

Now that we have gone on living very different and separate lives, I hadn't planned to bring up her personal business... But if it will help our cause, then I must.

I sigh. "Do you feel not worthy of my gift, because you're with child?"

Her eyes grow largely once more... She nearly begins to stammer. "Y-Your Grace?"

"Tabitha please..." I reject her lies. "I memorized the every freckle of your body as if it were my favorite poem. You wouldn't think I would notice your glowing skin, full bosom, and womb?"

...

Her head swivels as shame begins to embarrass her. Tears fall down her cheeks as she covers her mouth in shock. "I don't know what to say. Your Grace, I thought I wasn't to ever see you again... I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." I plead softly. "I'm not angry, just please, come sit.Tell me of your husband. Does he treat you well?"

She tearfully chuckles, relieved that I am not angered for her moving on without me.

"Yes, my King." Tabitha joins me back onto the bed where my right-side isn't burnt and destroyed. "He's a good man. James Bartholomew of King's Landing... A Fisherman at the ports. We wedded five months ago, and he loves me."

I smile. "How could he not? You are perfect. And in another four more months, you'll be a mother. A fantastic one at that, Lady Tabitha Bartholomew."

"He loves you." I gulp. "But do you love him?"

"I'd like to believe so... But if I am honest with myself and to the Gods, what you and I shared many moons ago, is a love I believe that I'll never see again in this lifetime." Her honesty breaks me apart... Yes, the love that we shared is something we could never find twice.

My eyes wonder at her charming baby bump. "May I?"

Tabby nods in agreement.

Beneath her skirt, my right hand reaches towards her stomach where I begin to feel the child's kick. "The bairn will be strong, I sense a little lad. I can already feel his strong presence and movement."

Tabitha blushes sweetly... Her adorably round cheeks blush and swell into large red apples.

I feel sorrow as I begin to wish the child was mine... I can't help to think about the many opportunities Tabitha had to carry my own child just as beautifully. But sadly, our titles never were to allow it.

I begin to pull away, and my hand slips further down... Beneath her navel I find my digits awfully close to the warmth of her cunt and my breathing begins to shutter.

...

Tabitha gently gulps. "Will arousing you relieve your pain, my King?"

I tighten my eyes closed. "Your sex would make me whole again, Tabitha."

I sigh. "But I can't... I am burnt, disgusting, and alone... I am a cripple. My cock is destroyed, did they tell you that? It burst in the flames like a sausage on a Spit. I can't even piss without it running down my leg." (🤣 Actual quote from the show)

My jaw painfully ticks in irreparable low self esteem. "There is nothing down there to arouse, my love."

...

Tabitha pauses. "Perhaps... your mind?"

Is it even possible to release endorphins without using my cock?

Could it be?

I frown with confused thought. "Perhaps."

My only good eye watches as Tabitha takes her petite hand to my wrist... She guides it between her thighs where I am suddenly able to feel her slick.

Quietly I gasp, never in my life expecting to be able to have sexual romance ever again.

My fingers begin to become slippery as I tease through her folds...

Lying on the pillow next to me, Tabitha's sweet whimpered breaths dance across my face. I watch as her eyebrows furrow in pleasure and she begins to nibble on her bottom lip.

As I find her pearl, my fingers lightly tap at it as her nails begin to dig in my arm as she holds on to it tightly.

As I slap lightly at her clit, my digits make the sound of quiet splashing. So wet and horny, I would have been buried my cock in her if I still had my staff of flesh.

The intense teasing on her bulb causes her knees to collapse in on each other. "mm'Aegon—" Deliciously she begs. "You'll have to stop that, I'll finish too quickly."

I bite my lip, brain fogging with pleasurable need. "Just keep your knees open, be good for me little one."

Forcing her legs open longer, Tabitha begins to moan and squeak.

I become appreciative that I was able to at least keep one strong arm. A strong arm and hand with fingers to feel her addictive flesh... and sight in one eye to watch her melt over my caress.

My longest two fingers in the middle of my hand plunges into her core, fucking her like a cock and nearly arching her body from off of the bed.

Her walls clench down upon my digits, crushing them as I bang upon her sweet spot.

Tabitha begins to lose herself in enjoyment.

"Gods! Aegon, don't stop. Keep touching me— just don't stop." She dissolves into pleasure.

My heart flutters as if I can still feel my member become erect. I can't find satisfaction until I see her gorgeous face contort into tears from a good cum. "You like that? Fuck, you are absolutely beautiful my love."

I overheat, sweating from the most exercise I've had in weeks yet ignoring my pain to enjoy Tabitha's orgasm for the both of us.

"You'll have to ride it baby." I quickly demand. "Fuck my hand as if it were the last time you'd ever be touched."

Onto her knees, Tabitha sits on my hand as my digits find the insides of her tight cunt once more.

She begins to rock her hips... shouting as I swirl each finger against her cavity and let my fingers prune with her juices.

As Tabitha continues to buck, inching closer to her climax, her large pregnant tits bounce out of the top of her corset as does the curls out of her neat updo.

I beg earnestly for her to hover closer to me... As she leans my direction, my mouth suctions to her full breasts... nipping and sucking at her nipples as I devour her image and sounds, melting the memory of this day into my brain.

I kiss her neck and face as my hand begins to lose its feeling in it, I thank the Gods that my tongue once again has the chance to dance across her skin and I try my hardest not to leave love-bruises on her for her husband to find later.

A slow pace to her hips causes her to sink further down my fingers and my mouth hangs agape as I groan from the feeling of her pussy collapsing in on me.

"Yes..." I coo. "Yes, yes, sweet Tabitha, that is so good."

Twitching as her orgasm peaks, I notice her draw a breath in and feel the dire need to catch her exhale into my mouth. I swing my injured left arm to the back of her head and force her lips against mine, inhaling her expressive explosion and swallowing her choked sobs and the yummy cracks in the tone of her voice.

"Perfect." I worship. "—Just perfect."

Tabitha catches her breath, lightly smiling as our gaze meets and watching me devour her sticky nectar from off of my fingers. We moan in an overly satisfied kiss, sharing the sweet taste of her explosion.

I capture all of her beauty as I tuck her curls back into place and protect her virtue as I cover her bust back into her corset, easing the burlap sack of gold beside her breasts where no one shall find it.

Seeing her with my gold brings me joy, I could even die peacefully knowing that the gold will keep her and her family forever out of poverty.

My sweet girl's eyes begin to water. "Aegon—" She begins words that could only feel like a coming goodbye now that our time is running so short.

"Shhh." I softly hush her. "Just lay with me."

Regardless of my ugly scars, Tabitha lays her head against the skin of my chest... We enjoy the moment together, intwining our fingers as we hold hands... something we spent a many romantic night doing during our year together.

"Your Grace?" Maester Orwyle soon interrupts our nestle with the worse news. "It is time, Your Grace. There has been word that Aemond and his dragon Vhagar are nearing King's Landing. He is home early from his excursion. If I am to get the girl home safely, I must do it now."

...

My heart shatters, however, I must nod and do what's best for the safety of Tabby and her unborn child.

"Take her." I demand.

The Maester begins gently. "Lady Tabitha, please come with me."

She suddenly refuses. "Aegon, wait. Just another hour or so of conversation?"

I shake my head. "If I could, I would make it a lifetime. But I just can't spare it."

Maester Orwyle quietly gestures for the help of my guards.

I notice my knights in steel on their way to steal my lover from my arms, and I watch the pain and fear bubble into Tabitha's eyes.

"Wait!" She argues, pushing the men off of her. "Wait, what?! Damn you, Get your hands off of me!"

The guards tug on her roughly, lifting her off of the bed and to her feet as they pull her away.

Tears and anger begin to cause me more pain and distress than any burn ever could. "BE CAREFUL WITH HER DAMN IT." I begin to cough as I grit the words of my demands out strictly.

"Aegon, wait!" Tabitha begs as her arms are captured by two guards on each side of her. "Please! Just wait! Just hear me now."

"Guards." I demand. "Just—halt. Please, For one moment."

I take in a deep inhale of ragged breath that instantly burns my chest. "I am listening."

"I love you, Aegon." She bursts with a sudden admission.

My heart shatters into pieces. "Tabitha, please—"

"It is true." She interrupts. "I wish I fought harder for you. I love you, just please— just please say it back."

"And tell you what you already know? My dear, I will always love you." I gulp. "Tabitha, I never stopped loving you and I never will..."

...

I watch her gulp... she nods, hearing all that she needed to hear from me before finally being able to leave.

"Will we ever see each other again?"A soft final whimper escapes her tongue.

Gently I smile... "If the Gods allow it."

[tired0artist]

Writing Vander/Warwick’s POV from Act II, because I desperately need to figure out what’s going on inside of his head. I will drop a link when I’m done 👀

WIP - ⚠️ it might change in the final draft ⚠️

There was only pain. That is all he— was he even a he? It felt right to call himself that. To think in this way, but was it true?— knew, for a long, long time.

But was it really, a long time? He thought so, or rather felt so, as thinking… thinking wasn’t something he could do a whole lot. It hurt more when he did, and sometimes he just couldn’t. He acted, he knew that, but there was just nothing in his mind.

Mind. Was is… a mind? A strange word… is he a mind?

No that was wrong, mind was… was something else. A part of him, this space where words formed and images showed up. Yes, he was in a mind now. His mind.

It showed him things sometimes, images, flashes of things. On a good day, he could even… will it to show him what he wanted to see.

Like the girl with the blue hair.

She seemed to be plaguing— plaguing, plague, another strange word— him the most, making him restless, eager to do something. But what? He didn’t know.

The little girl was accompanied by another one, older and pink-haired. Although, with her came a bit of pain— yes, yes, always pain, only pain—, but a strange sense of peace. There was no desperate need, just… just something else, something far calmer.

There were other things as well, other people. Two boys, purple hair in a braid, a slender nose… a song, a small… plush rabbit, a scent of alcohol, a home. And pain.

It all led to pain. Never to anything else—

Until it came.

Something new, something exciting.

His heart pumped faster and faster, pain becoming an afterthought as he lost himself in this feeling.

It was hunger.

After that, he wasn’t there anymore, he became hunger as he followed its stench.

There it went again, his mind closing off as he just acted unable to do much else.

Blood, meat and hunger. He knows only these things, until he stops.

Blue hair.

It… It’s everywhere at one point, making him dodge the many blue-haired people and just follow the scent. Then, it’s there again, in his grasp this time, but it is not what truly stops him. It might’ve sobered him up, yes, but what stops him is a thing.

It’s metal, painted with something chemical— it smells horrible— but he’ve seen it. He recognises it from… from…

“*a***r look! Look what I did!” a small voice calls out, thrusting something metal and ugly in his face.

He takes it, it has a blue face painted in it. A smile stretches his face, as he carefully observes it, until a small pale hand reaches out and twists a part of it.

The action made it start clicking, the gears slowly turning, until a high pitched noise rang in his ears as sparkly confetti exploded out of it. Covering the small girl in front of him and himself, as well.

“It’s for Vi’s birthday! Do you think she’ll like it, V*n*e*?”

Carefully, he puts down the thing on a counter and ruffles the blue hair, laughing as glitter falls from the strands.

“I’m sure she’ll love it. Nicely done, Powder.”

Powder.

Powder.

Powder.

“Take… care of Powder.”

Pink hair.

Blue hair.

There it is, the pain in his head, but for the first time he welcomes it as he twitches and his eyes flutter. The world becomes clearer for the first time in forever, no lover dark and red, but… just clear and sharp.

He… He knows something. He knows her. He loves her.

From amidst the pain and hunger, love comes crawling out. He welcomes it and twists his maw in a strange way, his throat itching as a word comes out, from somewhere else than just his mind.

“Pow-der.”

That’s all for now, I’m working on it. Won’t be a series but a one shot, two parts at most !

Let me know what you think

[cynicalrosebud]

Rumor Has It (6)

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

CW: Betrayal, blood, canon-typical violence

Rumor sat on the edge of the cot in the team's temporary safehouse, staring at his Glock 19 resting on the small metal table beside him. His reflection in the dark window was a ghost of someone who had been through hell and come out the other side, though not entirely unscathed. The past month had been a whirlwind of chaos, betrayal, and bloodshed—more than he'd seen in all his years of operating on the fringes. He had a lot of experience with morally gray areas, but what had gone down over the last few weeks had pushed the boundaries of everything he thought he knew.

Graves' betrayal had hit the hardest. It wasn’t like Rumor trusted the man—he never had—but there was a certain level of professionalism you expected from a team leader. Watching Graves flip, aligning with Shepherd and turning Shadow Company against them, was something he hadn’t seen coming. The missions had turned from taking down cartels and terrorists to cleaning up a mess left behind by those who were supposed to be on their side. And then Shepherd…

Rumor rubbed his temples, the memory of Price’s cold stare as he pulled the trigger replaying in his mind. He didn’t feel any pity for Shepherd—not after the missiles, the lies, and nearly losing their lives chasing down Hassan. Hassan… Rumor's hand tensed into a fist as he remembered their showdown. Killing him hadn’t been satisfying, not like he thought it would be. Just one more name on a list of people who made things worse.

Then there was Makarov.

Rumor’s heart tightened, his thoughts darkening as he replayed that moment. The sniper shot, Soap dropping like a stone, blood pouring from a graze along his head. For a terrifying few seconds, Rumor thought he'd lost him. Soap had survived, sure, but seeing the Scot nearly taken out had shaken him in a way nothing else had. And it wasn’t just him. Price, Ghost, Gaz—all of them had a moment where they thought Soap was gone. That day had left them all on edge.

Price killing Shepherd had been brutal, efficient, and—more than anything—quiet. Rumor doubted Shepherd had seen it coming, but Price hadn’t cared. Shepherd had crossed a line. Price had made sure there were no loose ends, no trails. He wouldn’t be caught for this, not unless someone dug too deep. But who would? There were so many bodies piling up in the wake of Shepherd’s lies that no one would bat an eye if one more disappeared in the chaos.

Laswell had taken charge of Task Force 141 after that. It made sense. She had always been the real backbone of the team. Rumor respected her, though it felt like something had shifted in the team. Shepherd’s betrayal had taken more than just their trust in their chain of command—it had left a scar.

Rumor let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He’d been promoted to Sergeant and officially brought into the 141. It wasn’t how he imagined joining the team, but then again, nothing about the last month had gone according to plan. He was part of the 141 now—officially. No more hanging around the edges, no more being a wildcard. He was in it, for better or worse.

And yet, despite everything, they were still standing. The 141 was battered but unbroken, moving forward, mission after mission. They had to. There was no time to rest, no time to dwell on the betrayals, the close calls. There were always more enemies, more threats. And as long as they stood together, Rumor knew they could handle it.

But the weight of it all still clung to him. He glanced back at the Glock, then at his reflection, whispering to himself, “Bloody month, huh?”

The door to the safehouse creaked open, and Soap stepped in, rubbing his head where the graze had left a thin scar. "Rumor," he said with a half-smile. "Ye ready? Price says we’ve got a briefing in five."

Rumor gave a small nod, standing up and grabbing his gear. "Aye, I’m ready. Just—" He hesitated for a split second, looking at Soap with a tired smile. "Glad you're still here, Albannaidd."

Soap grinned. "Takes more than Makarov to put me down."

Rumor chuckled, feeling a little lighter. "Good. Because I think I’d go mad without your constant yammering."

Soap slapped him on the back, laughing as they walked out of the room together. For a moment, things felt almost normal—just two soldiers, brothers-in-arms, facing whatever came next.

As they joined the rest of the team in the briefing room, Rumor’s mind shifted to the next mission. He wasn’t just Rumor anymore—he was 141, through and through.

And no matter what came next, he was ready.

[what-the-ship]

Healing Touch

Here is my contribution to the rare pair that gnaws at my brainstem.

Obligatory sickfic. Tigerghost. TW: vomiting No beta, we die like Danny

Superheroes don’t get sick. Or so they like to tell themselves. Especially one Manuel Pablo Gutierrez O'Brian Equihua Rivera! 

It wouldn’t be so bad if he were at his place in Miracle City. There he could be weak around his family. At Headquarters, that was a different story. There wasn’t a room dedicated to personal use except for Jimmy. It was his dimension after all. Timmy had been pressuring the genius into expanding to allow for at least one room to be used for sleeping. The idea was shot down every time. His brillant idea was taken from some popular space travel series where the lower decks slept in the hallway. Sure they got their own shelf but it was still a hallway at the end of the day. When Manny first saw it he was reminded of catacombs.  

 So when Manny woke up one random Thursday with a pounding headache and a sore throat all he could do was groan. 

“Manny?” Inquired the voice of Timmy somewhere beyond his sight. When Manny went to answer he gave a dry, raspy cough. The cough hurt his stomach so bad he ended up throwing up on the floor. Since there was nothing in his stomach it somehow made it hurt even more. Timmy was now shouting and alarms were going off. Manny felt like crying as the sound drilled into his already-pounding head. 

When he awoke there was something cool pressed against his forehead. It felt amazing. Allowing his more cat-like instincts to take over he nuzzled into the coolness. To his delight, a second soft coolness was placed on his neck. Curiosity winning he opened his eyes to investigate the source of delight. To his shock, he saw a pair of blue eyes staring down at him. Jet black and snow white hair framed the most delightful face. 

“Ángel,” Manny whispered before closing eyes to get some more sleep. The next time he awoke his head was feeling much better. He looked around wondering where he was. It wasn’t his room in his dimension and it certainly wasn’t his shelf in the hallway. 

“Oh you are awake,” Jimmy had entered the room without Manny noticing. He must still be out of it. He was dressed in a hazmat suit and carrying a clipboard. Trotting next to him was his robotic dog Goddard. 

“Therometer.” Commanded the teen genius holding his hand out for Goddard to produce said item in his upturned hand. He then swiped the device across Manny’s forehead. 

“Thirty-seven point four degrees centigrade.” Announced Jimmy as he made a note of it. “Not perfect but acceptable. If you are up for it, I can have some soup and crackers brought down.”

“Soup sounds good.” He really could go for his mom's sopa azteca right now. Manny was left alone again to look around the room. It looked like a barracks complete with metal bunk beds. He was currently on the bottom bunk at the moment. Hoping he could convince the person above him to switch places. He was always more of an up cat.  

“Soups on!” Spongebob sang out as he danced into the room. He then sat down the trey on Manny’s lap. Manny gave a smile and a thanks as he looked over the meal. He frowned a little. It looked a little like caldo de pollo but not. Chicken bits and carrots checked out. The stringy noodles confused him slightly. There wasn’t much of a smell and the broth was far too clear. Not wanting to seem ungrateful he ate a spoonful. 

Bland. He gave a smile and thanked the chef. Spongebob smiled before excusing himself. The second the door shut Manny set the whole tray on the floor in disgust. He could feign sickness for not finishing. Sipping the lukewarm water he debated on trying to get up or get some more sleep. Splitting the difference he located his phone to scroll lazily for a while. The door opened again and Manny instantly geared up his too-sick-to-eat act. To his surprise it was Danny. He was carrying a paper bag in both hands. His soft smile morphed into confusion at the sight of the tray on the floor. 

“Not up for eating?” Danny frowned at the practically untouched now cold soup. Danny set down the bag to use the spoon to poke at the flimsy noodles. “Can’t say I blame you. Maybe you’re up for something different.” 

Danny pulled out a styrofoam bowl with a plastic lid from the bag. He peeled off the lid releasing the smoky scent of pozole. Manny almost spilled the treasure in his excitement. He took a sip straight from the container as Danny fished out a spoon from the paper bag. 

“Gracias guapo.” 

“You’re welcome.”

Timmy entered a second later with a bulging backpack.

 “Congratulations on getting us the Nap Room! I call top bunk.” Declared Timmy throwing his bag on one of the other metal bunk beds. Timothy Turner, ever the opportunist. Like the pre-evolution of a lawyer.  

“Just wish you didn’t have to puke on the floor to get it.” Danny tacked on.

“Anything for my amigos.” Manny flashed a winning smile getting one back from the ghostly hero. “Speaking of hooking amigos up, where can I get some of those ice packs?” 

“Ice packs?” Timmy paused in turning his bed into a nest. He was standing on the ladder as he spread out a small blanket. He had to twist his upper body to look back at the duo.

“Yeah. The ones from earlier. Oh, man. I would wear those things all night. They were so soft and perfect.” Manny stopped praising the ice packs as Danny’s face became redder and redder. 

“Oh no I got you sick. Here,” Manny panicked slightly holding out his half-eaten meal. Danny politely declined as he made an excuse to leave. 

“Oye I mean it. I could sleep with those things all night.” 

“Oh I bet you could,” Timmy smirked. “All. Night. Long.”

“Isn’t it about time you go bother Jimmy?” Danny was now in his defensive posture. 

“Not til two. Besides I am very interested in Manny’s story about how he could spend the night with-” Timmy’s speech was cut off by a carefully placed mini plasma shot right to his backside. It was just enough to cause the teen to give a yelp. 

“Worth it.” Groaned the brunette through clenched teeth.

Danny had already left the room before Manny got his answer. Making a mental reminder he polished off his soup trying to recall the details of his strange dream about the angel.

[bidonica]

So yeah about what I was saying in the tags to @metalgearstranding's post about Ocelot's parentage here. I finished the TPP side quest involving Paz and I have Thoughts on the topic of character development being pushed to the periphery of the Metal Gear games, which also include BIG BIG SPOILERS about the endgame of MGSV so if you've managed to get into metal gear unspoiled about that and wish to remain so, don't read beyond the cut. And if you decide to read, content warning for discussion of sexual violence.

So I've basically finished the main storyline of TPP -- reached the "Truth" mission, lost Quiet (I also got her back btw. Yes you can. Love wins) and now I'm two repeat missions away from finishing the main list, while I still have a few side ops to unlock. One of the side op series I finished first is the "find the wandering Mother Base soldiers" one, where you have to capture lost soldiers from the old Mother Base and collect memento photos in the process. The "mementos" are scenes you can trace back to Paz's diaries in Peace Walker, and I thought they were some side material whose purpose was to nod at the players who actually played PW without making it integral to the game. As a matter of fact, a lot of people skipped on Peace Walker, being a portable game and all -- even my brother who is a lifelong fan of the series and introduced me to it never played it, which I like to hold over his head because I am now Doing Metal Gear Better.

Then I recently ended up on this article and found out there was a whole side plot involving those mementos and the unexpected reappearance of Paz at Mother Base. If you played Ground Zeroes, you'd know Paz died a gruesome, gross death, with two bombs planted into her body by Skull Face -- one that had to be surgically removed from her abdomen without anaesthesia and the other in, well, her vagina, that exploded when she threw herself off the flying chopper Big Boss was carrying her on, causing or at least exacerbating the incident where BB and the Medic ended up in their nine year coma.

So in TPP there's this door on the third floor at the main Medical Platform. You can open it and find a room with Paz in it - alive, but with a V-shaped scar on her abdomen and her mind stuck in 1974. Ocelot and Miller will explain that the Medic was able to extract the second bomb at the last minute(*) and save her, never mind that she looks like she barely aged.

(*)I reiterate: from her vagina. Not sure how I feel about how sexual violence is used in this game, because on the one hand it is true that it disproportionately affects women POW and it would probably be disingenuous to not address it altogether, but at the same time these aren't the games most suited to handle this topic because they tend to be very, uh, adolescent when it comes to women and their bodies even when the context is rather dramatic. You also see it in the lingering shot on Quiet's breasts during her attempted onscreen rape (then there's also, of course, the implied offscreen ones) and don't get me started on whatever is going on when you defeat the Beauty & Beast unit in MGS4.

This triggers a flashback from Venom, where he basically overwrites the scene as you experienced it in Ground Zeroes with the scene as recounted to him by Kaz and Ocelot, and his point of view shifts between Big Boss and the Medic. Which is honestly pretty clever if you're playing this unspoiled, because if you unlock this early on in the game the point of view shift foreshadows the twist from the "Truth" mission. And if you, like me, play it after, you get to be like "aha!" at it.

The twist being, of course, that Venom isn't Big Boss but rather the Medic, brainwashed into becoming Big Boss' Phantom.

Again, there are hints -- when you start bringing Paz the memento photos, she will comment on them with a nostalgic, sugar coated version of what she said in her Peace Walker diary entries, because if you look at those, her tone is a lot more critical and at times snarky, because Paz was a double agent. Sure, she eventually had a change of heart and 1984 Paz might be reflecting that. But her phrasing, combined with her repating "I'm a student... I'm an angel of peace..." the whole time, points at this being the Medic piecing together a version of Paz that he knew; it's unlikely he got the full intel on her at the time of her rescue in GZ, and what with Ocelot not being there at the time of Peace Walker, it might be he also didn't include it in his mental conditioning at all.

The Paz side plot is possibly the only one that fully engages with Venom as his own character and not as a Big Boss proxy. It's about the Medic's trauma and guilt for not having been able to save Paz, who in his eyes was just an innocent girl. Which was a lie, but isn't at the same time because she certainly didn't deserve what happened to her. The last picture you find is called "Morpho butterfly" and Morpho was the name of Pequod's predecessor as the chopper pilot. It's all about Venom's mind struggling to deal with the loss of his old comrades, not to mention his own identity.

It's also the most effective demonstration you get of his brainwashing, because you see him being unable to trust his own memories, rewriting them in real time.

Paz, of course, isn't real. Venom hallucinated her the whole time. Her words in the audio files are actually his thoughts, which has some interesting repercussions, like was it actually the Medic who witnessed this?

Me finding a way to make this about Kaz aside, what I'm getting at is: this whole subplot is the only one that tackles Venom's situation as a PTSD ridden, brain damaged, brainwashed person head-on. It also highlights his compassionate nature by making his guilt towards Paz be the only thing that resurfaces from his old life.

The mental and neurological issues, the seizures, memory loss are all things that are established with Venom's introduction; when you rescue Kaz, Venom asks him to talk to him and help him remember, but in reality the mission support Kaz gives you is merely about logistics, and in most cutscenes he and Venom talk of the matters at hand, or of Kaz's desire to get back at Skull Face and Cipher. Venom's brain issues don't really factor significantly in the story segments or the gameplay (except for the color blindness that was meant to be a sort of Checkhov's Gun in the unfinished Kingdom of the Flies mission. My Roman Empire). Yeah they couldn't pay Kiefer Sutherland for more than three line readings or whatever yadda yadda, but this very Paz subplot proves that you can give him character development without him saying much.

It's that, in order to do it, you have to (casually?) find that one door that you can open at Mother Base, and go through a whole side quest that is entirely optional. You could technically finish the game -- or at least what we have of the game -- and never have to contend with the protagonist's specific trauma and actual personality.

You could argue that it works on a meta level, because Venom is the player and the player themselves is Big Boss' phantom, his impersonator. Metal Gear rarely misses with this sort of metanarrative, fourth wall breaking stuff. So keeping Venom the actual character to the periphery to center Venom the avatar of Big Boss, who is the avatar of the player, makes sense in that context.

But it becomes frustrating when you engage with Metal Gear as a story, which isn't just plot, but also the personal, emotional motivations for the characters to make a choice rather than the other. Which is... what drives the plot. It's something that happens again and again throughout the games -- character development as something that is, essentially, happening in another room. It's not that it doesn't exist, but it's stored away elsewhere and you don't get to see it. Which is made even more frustrating by how bits and pieces of it randomly emerge, and they are compelling -- I'm thinking of Kaz recounting his personal history in the Peace Walker tapes, or Strangelove's dying monologue (kudos to the voice actors on both accounts though, because they definitely contributed in delivering the emotional punch of those scripts). But it's always just flashes and rarely something you get to experience in full.

(the frustration is magnified in TPP when you have the main storyline just. Ending at a certain point -- because it's unfinished et cetera -- and then find all this arguably juicier material at the periphery of the game.)