#misty knight x you

[swordgrace]

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

༺ aemond targaryen x fem!reader.

synopsis: in aemond targaryen’s eyes, you have far exceeded anything that he could’ve imagined. during a moment of solace, you indulge in the prince’s growing affections.

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༺ FORMAT: one-shot — not requested.

༺ WORD COUNT: 7.1K.

༺ WARNINGS: SMUT, oral sex (f!receiving), p in v sex (unprotected), multiple positions, biting, scratching, switch!aemond, fingering (f!receiving), groping, lots of kissing, hair pulling, vulnerable aemond, melancholy aftercare, slight power imbalance, possessive aemond, talk of insecurities, begging, etc.

༺ AUTHOR’S NOTE: finally ,,, an aemond fic! I am currently looking for requests for this account, and hopefully this is a good showcase in terms of getting people interested! This was so fun to write and helped me get into the Aemond headspace, I so look forward to sharing more of my work with all of you!

𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐊 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 the skies over King’s Landing, bringing with it a sense of wariness and discomfort. Rumors and whispers grew of an approaching war between Rhaenyra Targaryen and King Aegon Targaryen — a war between kin that would surely plunge the realm into a great darkness.

Bloodshed and the mere thought of violence caused you to shiver, goosebumps prickling along the length of your spine. The evening was a touch colder, the air bitter and misty with the first inklings of a nighttime deluge. Raindrops smashed into the courtyard, against the castle walls in a steady sheet.

Sworn to serve Lady Alicent Hightower, the dowager Queen, she had dismissed you quite suddenly, citing that she preferred to be left alone this evening. You found it intriguing that Ser Criston Cole so vigilantly guarded the former Queen’s chambers with wandering eyes, but it was none of your business.

The halls of the Red Keep were warm with the glow of torchlight amongst the illumination of the moon, clouds bringing down rain and the low rumble of thunder. You were prepared to make the venture down to the Servant’s Quarters, until you were stopped by a guard somewhere down the corridor.

“My Lady,” One of the Kingsguard, Ser Cargyll, addressed you nobly, even if you were just a handmaiden. “The Prince Aemond is searching for you. He is requesting your presence.”

Prince Aemond — a name not unfamiliar to you.

You felt the subtle hitch within the depths of your throat at the mention of Aemond Targaryen. The Prince was rather acquainted with you, in ways that many would consider uncouth and sinful, but it was a budding relationship. If anything, you found him to be a being of mystique and repression, in your experience.

Under the guise of mere duty, you nodded, curtsying before Ser Cargyll. “Thank you, Ser. I will make my way to his chambers.” You kept your voice hushed, ensuring an air of respect for those who slumbered within the Keep’s walls.

Carrying bundles of fresh linens within your arms, you made your way to the Prince’s quarters, a path that you were somewhat familiar with. Your encounters with Aemond weren’t often, but whenever they did occur, it filled you with a certain thrill and exhilaration. You never imagined yourself to be desirable, the object of a Prince’s infatuations, yet here you were.

A sharp clap of thunder caused you to gasp, nearly losing your footing as you traversed through the darkened corridors, passing by the occasional fellow servant or patrolling knight. Something about this night felt unusual — as if there was an ominous presence lingering around the corner.

Thunderstorms had a horrible habit of making you incredibly paranoid — tonight was no different, it seemed. With a deliberate pace, you ascended the grand flight of steps toward Aemond’s chambers, noticing the lack of protection outside. The Prince wasn’t fond of being hovered over, a notion that you could understand.

The set of ornate, mahogany doors were equipped with iron knobs fashioned into the heads of dragons — quite fitting, considering his heritage. You knocked thrice, stepping back as you waited for the Prince himself, or his summons.

With bated breath, you wrung your digits into the silk and linens clutched within your arms, awaiting the Prince to allow you inside. The suspense was nearly unbearable — sometimes he called you inside, and other times, he greeted you himself with a sly curl of his mouth and that glittering, violet eye of his.

To your delight, the door creaked open, groaning in protest as Aemond stood within the gap, regal and svelte in his leather tunic and fine regalia. His hand perched along the edge of the door, lips tilting into that familiar countenance of his — cunning yet tinged with faint hints of amusement.

“My Lady,” Aemond’s voice was a lull, like the purr of a great cat as he beckoned you inside. He cared little for prying eyes, allowing you to step into the warmth of his open chambers before he latched the door behind him. “You came rather swiftly.” He stated — a mere observation, but it was most accurate.

“Is this not an urgent matter?” To keep appearances, you sometimes asked redundant questions — but Aemond enjoyed them nonetheless. He let out a brief hum, violet hue raking over you as it had several times before. There was something reverent there, a silent appreciation that happened to scream if someone looked close enough.

With a brief hum of amusement, Aemond ogled you, head canting slightly to one side. Blackfyre sat soundly atop his hip, bound in the finest sheath and belt that hung atop his narrow waist. “I suppose not,” He reached out, gently swiping his fingers across your jaw. “I merely wanted to see you.”

Warmth fluttered within your breast, spreading like ivy across the rest of your body. The bulk of the heat settled within your features as you struggled to maintain your composure. “And I you, my Prince.” It was enough to make Aemond’s stare sparkle. “Any word on what will come of the growing conflict?”

Aemond stepped toward the large table, scattered in maps and scrolls, the largest of it being a cartographic description of Westeros. Coins were scattered atop it, meant to resemble garrisons of their forces. “Not yet.” He replied, circling the table before he looked at you. “It is hard to plan for a war that you’ve no counsel in.”

From what Aemond had told you during previous trysts, he was not on the small council — and his brother, the King, seemed more content on drinking and letting others run his kingdom for him. A piece of Aemond spited Aegon for this, for his lack of propriety and sense of duty.

The Prince’s woes weren’t unfamiliar to you. In fact, he had placed his head within your lap and recounted the multitude of misfortunes that had befallen him on many occasions before he had any desire to touch you. Perhaps it was this gesture that had given your budding relationship such a firm foundation.

War was on the horizon, and Aegon hadn’t the slightest clue of what to do — which left Aemond to stew and plot away, to strategize where there wasn’t any inkling of it. It would always fall upon him, the more responsible sibling.

You trailed after him, curious to see such a large map of the continent. If anything, you were more perplexed by the different kingdoms and sigils on coins than the war. “You mean to strategize without the King?” You inquired, noticing the scoff that emerged from Aemond.

“It is nothing new. I only wish to serve the King and my house.” He replied, expression becoming pensive before he sank down into the cushioned armchair, the one placed before his sea of maps and books. Candles danced atop the table, listless and bright.

Aemond was a learned individual, with a thirst for books and tomes, alongside the blade. You admired his desire for more, his desire for knowledge. There was a stark duality to Aemond that you had caught glimpses of during the course of your endeavors — from sharp and cold, like steel, to a hint of warmth.

The Prince’s chambers were spacious, surrounded by an ocean of quiet, with a high terrace and an open wall. You watched as the rain fell, providing a gentle ambiance to your surroundings. A flash of lightning split the sky, and the thunderous gloom of the night raged on.

With a soft exhale, you approached the terrace, lined in a thick bannister and a row of columns. If you extended your hand out far enough, you could catch the rain, feeling the chill of the droplets glide across your palm. It was soothing, enough to ease the heat that had made permanent residence within your skin.

In silent rapture, Aemond watched you carefully, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The glow of moonlight framed your features in silver, accompanied by the twinge of orange — it made you look like a goddess, a beauty incarnate standing before him. His fingers tensed into the arm of his chair, desire beginning to fester inside of him.

Initially, he thought little of you — the lowborn girl that dutifully served his mother, yet the night you’d found him strewn about in his quarters, wounded and wistful, he’d changed his mind. Aemond fell swiftly, and he fell hard — many nights were spent with you in his bed, his head within your lap. It inevitably transformed into desire and the first blossoming of affection.

“Thunderstorms used to terrify me as a child,” You broke the silence, recoiling until your palm was pressed close to your chest. “Now, they seem to make everything ominous, as if there is a lingering dread.” You let out a chuckle, seemingly embarrassed. “It isn’t much different than being afraid.”

Aemond tucked a hand beneath his chin, leaning some of his weight against it as he listened to you. “What do you fear, my Lady?” He questioned, as if attempting to pick you apart, crawl beneath your flesh. You enticed him, evoked a sense of intrigue that he seldom felt in the presence of noble women.

A rather heavy question, but you decided to answer honestly, depositing the stack of linens onto the lounge in front of you. “Being locked away in a cage, perhaps the darkness.” You trailed off. “War.” You grimaced, gaze flickering toward the map on his table yet again.

You always feared war more than anything — it always brought worse things with it. Bloodshed, famine, death, the feeling of no sanctuary or peace.

With a soft huff, Aemond’s violet eye flickered away from you and to his map, surveying his growing plan for any imperfections. He remained quiet for a moment, and decided that he had little desire to talk to you on the topic of war — not when there were plenty of other things he could do.

“War is inevitable, like so many other things in life,” Aemond’s voice carried an indiscernible edge to it. After a brief pause, he continued. “I would keep you safe.” Sometimes, you had difficulty detecting sincerity with the Prince, but you could see it now, even if it was subtle.

If it was meant to be a flattering or sentimental statement, it happened to work, prompting you to dip your head. Sheepishness settled into your features, causing you to tether your hands together. “You honor me, my Prince. I did not know that the life of a handmaiden meant something to you.”

At last, his head angled toward you, lilac hue dancing with light as he leaned back within his chair, the wood groaning in protest. “Come here.” He waved you forward with a flick of his fingers, desiring to feel your warmth, be close to you. Aemond’s lust for you was subtle, but when it sparked to life, it burned like a dragon’s fire.

Your heartbeat fluttered like the wings of a bird, stirring beneath your breast as you obeyed the Prince’s command. Stepping closer, you felt Aemond’s hand trace the swell of your hip, coaxing you into his lap. Without a word, he rested his cheek against your sternum, feeling your fingers rake through his silken tresses.

“Your life is worth a great deal.” Aemond stated, breath fanning out across your collarbone. The Prince savored the sensation of your soft flesh beneath him, heart loud enough to ring within his ears as he pressed close to your chest. Wordlessly, he planted a kiss against the column of your throat.

A shiver rolled down your spine, a sensation that left you aching for more. You never imagined yourself becoming the object of the Prince’s affections, enough for him to state that your life had meaning beyond the station of a servant. “Then it is a mutual feeling.” You uttered, nails lightly scraping against the nape of his neck.

Aemond had often been deprived of affection — even in his dealings with whores, it was originally Aegon’s design, his will enforced. There was no shared connection with a woman seeking coin and a boy, barely thirteen. He preferred you above all else, warm and tender within his grasp, with no desire to use him to further your station.

He used to believe that the only solace he could find was in himself — until he began seeking you out.

What originally began as an arrangement of convenience, purely lust and instinct, had now spiraled into something more. He shared his past with you, treated you to the inner machinations of his splintered family, and in rare instances, became quite vulnerable. Sentiments be damned, Aemond was beginning to feel affectionate towards you.

The growing connection he shared with you, albeit unorthodox and unexpected, outweighed any previous experience he had. You were his — a precious creature that he intended on savoring forever, if he could. Not many would approve of his hunger for a lowborn girl, but Aemond cared little for it.

Above all, known or unknown, he wanted your love.

Aemond’s lilac eye drifted to your visage, drinking you in as he had many times before. The way you cradled his skull within your hand, your other palm planted firmly against his chest — it was intoxicating. He sank closer, finding comfort in your warmth.

He listened to your heart — the way it excitedly galloped for him, pounded within his ear like the deep lull of a drum. The Prince kissed your collarbone, shifting some of your robes away to reveal the soft expanse of your skin. Perhaps, he hadn’t made it known, but you belonged to him — it would stay that way.

A slight chill caused you to press closer, seeking the warmth of the Dragon Prince. Rain continued to pour outside, with thunder rattling the black, cloudy skies, as powerful as a dragon’s cry. Your hand found his shoulder, digits gently massaging into the broad, sinewy muscle of his clothed shoulder.

The sharp ridge of his nose brushed along your neck, lips following suit as he planted several deliberate kisses against your jugular; underneath your jaw. “Cold?” Aemond inquired, able to feel the icy bite of your flesh as it brushed against his. He felt you shudder — but he wondered if that was from something else.

“Slightly, my Prince.” You confessed, though your body’s physical responses were from his lips, in-tandem with the misty chill from the thunderstorm. The flicker of candlelight danced across his features — narrow and defined, beautiful beyond comparison.

“Hm,” Aemond hummed, dragging his lips around the curve of your jawline, pressing another kiss beneath your ear. His scent filled your nose — spiced herbs, smoke and leather, intermingled with that of a dragon. “Shall I remedy this misfortune?” He uttered, his voice crackling with desire.

He nearly smirked at the sound of your breath hitching within your throat — a delicious response to his shameless flirtation. Aemond’s hand crawled along the length of your leg, grabbing at the end of your robes before slipping underneath. His narrow digits danced along your calf, before finding the pliant meat of your thigh.

“Aemond,” You whispered, shifting within his lap as the Prince continued to kiss your neck. The garment you wore was shoddy and somewhat ill-fitting, and you longed to have it removed. You pressed a kiss against his brow, the one that had the beginnings of a scar. “Please.”

The sensation of your lips against his scar nearly drove him into a frenzy — it did the last time you coupled. Aemond let out a brief huff, detaching his mouth from your throat as he hungrily sought your lips. The kiss was overflowing with desire, his hand slithering against your inner thigh.

His slender digits found the apex between your thighs, swiping over the slick heat of your cunt. It was feather-light and tantalizing, meant to make you squirm, a promise of more to come throughout your night together. You whimpered, feeling his thumb ghost around your clit, splitting past your folds.

You reciprocated the kiss with a flurry of passion, tilting your hips forward toward Aemond’s hand. The playful curve of his mouth was tangible as you kissed him again, reaching to cup his face. The pad of your thumb traced along his cheekbone, feeling his teeth graze along your lower lip.

Aemond shivered beneath your palm, finding the sensation of it to be foreign, yet comforting all the same. He hadn’t removed his eyepatch before, during your previous trysts — the thought of you seeing it somewhat unnerved him. It was often used for intimidation, to terrify others into subservience, but it wasn’t like that with you.

As you pulled your head back just slightly, you pressed a tender kiss against Aemond’s jaw, and then against his cheek — another secured itself atop his eyepatch. You felt the Prince’s breath hitch, a subtle noise that left you wanting more.

His hand stilled between your legs, the other holding just underneath your breast. “It would be unwise to remove it.” Aemond uttered, voice as smooth as silk, and just as tantalizing. There was something forlorn about him, as if he were afraid of you glimpsing upon his face.

“I would never insist upon it, Aemond. Just know that I would never pass judgment,” You replied, tucking several strands of pale, silky hair aside. “You are still just as handsome, just as perfect.” Your soft-spoken reassurance made him flustered, yet he was unwilling to reveal that side of himself.

Admittedly, he considered taking it off then, but he decided against it, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. Your hand drifted to the front of his tunic, lined in an impressive array of metallic buttons, bearing the Targaryen sigil. Aemond found your sentiments to be sweet — just like the rest of you.

Wordlessly, the one-eyed Prince coaxed you to your feet, bringing you toward the roaring hearth, beside the light of a crackling fire. The ground beneath you was covered in the layered pelts of various game, from stags to the thick hide of a bear, cushioned enough to provide a safe landing for the both of you.

Aemond towered over you, svelte and broad-shouldered, hand coming to cup your chin as he kissed you. It was slow and unusually sweet, but much to your disappointment, it was short-lived. His hands moved to the front of your robes, tugging at the rugged laces to loosen the bodice.

He watched you hawkishly, enraptured as the both of you maneuvered the shoddy fabric aside. You pulled it over your head, tossing the garment somewhere behind you. It landed on the stone floor with an unceremonious thud, leaving you bare before the Prince.

It was an exchange, one that Aemond silently complied with as he peeled aside his own tunic, lips twitching into a smirk as you pushed away the leather and fine linen of his undershirt. He was all sinewy muscle and narrow limbs, with a pale musculature that seemed to glow whenever the light touched it.

The both of you gazed at one another, your breathing significantly more labored than his own. Your excitement was palpable, the anticipation stirring within your stomach as arousal pooled between your legs. Aemond hungrily consumed your mouth in a blistering kiss, hands grabbing at your hips and chest.

You reached for his shoulders, arms tossing themselves around the back of his neck, digits raking through his hair. Aemond’s tongue greedily slipped past your parted lips, allowing you to taste him. A low hum of approval rumbled within his throat as you submitted to him, chest blossoming with warmth.

It was all tongue and teeth and want — a dance that finally gave way to carnal desire and primitive instincts. You felt Aemond’s hand grope at your haunch, feeling your pliant flesh as he nipped at your lower lip. The flame of desire glistened within his lilac hue.

“Lie down,” Aemond uttered, his voice becoming a touch gravelly, saturated with lust. He watched as you obeyed, sinking down onto the furs with a flustered expression. He stood over you, reveling in the sight of your body, kissed by fire, legs pulled up at the knee. “You are perfect.”

Perfect — you shuddered, stomach churning with liquid heat as you propped yourself back upon your elbows, palms idly running across the soft furs. Aemond sank down, pressing a hot, needy kiss to your lips before he knelt between your thighs, mouth hungrily returning to your throat.

“Aemond,” You moaned, the noise soft and simpering as he assaulted your neck in passionate kisses. Teeth and tongue worked together, leaving behind a handful of marks, some glaringly obvious. He continued his descent, kissing your collarbone, and then your breast. “Please keep going.” A breathy whine left you, then.

His lips twitched into a smirk as he planted a series of hot kisses around your breast, the other palm preoccupied with groping and kneading into the soft flesh there. Aemond felt your body arch into him, knees squeezing at his narrow hips.

With a stroke of his tongue, the Prince began to suck at the peak of your breast, nose brushing along your sternum. The heat from the flame crawled across your body, leaving you feverishly hot. Aemond’s actions did little to soothe it, igniting the fire within your belly.

Your hands flew toward his crown of pale tresses, digits digging in toward the nape of his neck. The furs brushed against your back as you reclined, stealing glimpses at Aemond, who methodically and reverently worked his way along your body.

“Ao sytilībagon naejot nyke,” Aemond purred, sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh below your breast, as if to ensure his point was made. That singular lilac hue caught your heady gaze, prompting him to continue his descent. He abandoned your breast with a lasting kiss, mouth traveling along your stomach and hips. “Ñuhon.”

Listening to Aemond’s enchanting High Valyrian made you shudder, allowing it to encompass you. His voice was nothing more than a lascivious purr, meant to entice and tempt you — you were beyond elated to oblige. You watched with doe-like eyes as Aemond kissed your waist, and then your thighs.

His incendiary stare never faltered, and as he pushed his shoulders between your legs, he held it throughout. Aemond listened to the delicious hitch within your throat, the way you preemptively curled your nails into his shoulders — it was intoxicating.

In an unexpected maneuver, Aemond gingerly abandoned the fine leather of his eyepatch, revealing the glistening, sapphire eye, marred-over with an age-old scar. You were dazzled, perplexed by his beauty and the vibrant gleam of the jewel that was permanently socketed into his eye.

As a display of reassurance, your fingers crept from his shoulder to his face, gingerly tracing around his countenance, from eyebrow to cheekbone. Aemond’s subtle exhale of delight signaled his approval, and without warning, he raked his tongue across your cunt.

Your lips fell apart, unable to smother the pleasured whine that escaped you. His tongue raked hot embers across your aching core, delivering a series of deliberate strokes that were sure to make you squirm. Aemond preferred to savor you, consuming every drop of your nectar as if it were the finest of wines.

Those dextrous, spindly hands of his found the pliant flesh of your thighs, hooking underneath to provide a place of rest for your legs. He squeezed slightly, signaling his presence there as he pressed forward. His mouth greedily lapped at your cunt, gliding from the hood of your clit to your entrance.

“Aemond!” A wanton moan tore past your lips, back beginning to arch into his ministrations. The Prince slowed, sharp nose brushing against your mouth as he dipped forward, tongue briefly pushing inside of you. The subtle sensation made you whine, nails dragging themselves across his shoulder.

You were perfect — flesh velveteen beneath his palms, physique begging for more, your pleasure coming to fruition. You were at his mercy, but fortunately, Aemond was feeling most gracious this evening. The echo of the thunderstorm shook the walls a time or two, but it all became atmospheric, simply background noise.

With one hand fisted within his platinum tresses, the other scratched haplessly at his shoulder, nails leaving behind reddish crescents as he flicked his tongue across your clit. The sensation was fleeting, but he sought to drag it out, lips greedily pursing around the pearl of your cunt.

Another breathy moan left you, stomach pooling with a rush of molten heat. It oozed between your legs as your arousal fell upon the Prince’s tongue, much to his delight. He did not waste a drop, mouth traveling wherever he pleased, lapping at every inch of your cunt.

His throat echoed with a low growl, hands grabbing at your thighs. He traced his tongue around your clit, teasing you with feather-light jolts of bliss. You let out a whine, occasionally writhing atop the furs, head lolled back in a display of pure ecstasy.

Aemond’s subtle groan of delight reverberated throughout him whenever you tugged on his tresses, forcing him further into the warm embrace between your thighs. He pressed a string of kisses along your clit, as if he were worshiping you. He enjoyed your greed — if anything, he wanted to indulge you.

The warm lick of the hearth danced across your flesh, seeping into your very bones. Perspiration dotted your brow, jaw tight as Aemond ogled you from between your legs, like a svelte predator, poised for the kill. “You’re perfect, Aemond.” You exhaled, noticing the subtle twinkle in his lilac eye.

That familiar cheshire smirk of his returned; your sweetly-spoken compliments and shower of praise clearly satiated Aemond. He kissed your thigh, breath hot as it fanned across your aching core. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” His voice was cajoling, playful as he nipped at your hip.

You squirmed, becoming desperate for a release, one that your Prince seemed to dangle before your eyes like a carrot on a stick. “Please,” You moaned, digits tightening within his tresses, a subtle signal to continue. “Please, Aemond!” With such an urgent plea from a sweet mouth, Aemond couldn’t resist you.

It seemed that begging would get you places — Aemond thoroughly savored every second of it. Your lust mirrored his own, perhaps subdued, but it was a raging desire nonetheless. He placed another string of kisses against your inner thighs, gazing at you with an incendiary fondness.

Sluggishly, he descended to your cunt once more, dragging the flat of his tongue along your slit in one broad stroke. With a shiver, your hips rolled forward, eased into submission by Aemond’s hands, which happened to lock you into place as he swarmed forward.

He drank you in, tongue greedily flicking between your weeping core and clit, until he began to apply that same pressure as before. His thin lips pursed around the pearl of your cunt, suckling on the clutch of sensitive nerves until it drove you mad, back arching from the furs.

By the Seven, the things Aemond did to you.

There was a fervor in his ministrations, a ravenous hunger that threatened to tear you asunder. His tongue lapped at your core, interchanging with those brief moments of his lips latched around your clit. You whimpered, thighs pressing on either side of his head.

“Aemond,” You sighed with passion, fisting his silky tresses until you tugged him closer, burying his face within the warmth of your cunt. Aemond didn’t seem to mind, treating you with another barrage of suckling and kisses until you were spent. “Fuck.”

Your unholy mouth made Aemond shudder, groping at your thighs as he brought you to climax. Your release was bittersweet upon his tongue, the most sinful taste imaginable — yet he never claimed to be a pious man. He worked tirelessly to clean you up, cock aching within the confines of his leather trousers.

As you rode the pleasurable high of your release, your body unfurled, the tension within your stomach coming to a halt. A molten bliss wept between your legs, soothed by the cool lick of Aemond’s tongue. Your tryst was far from finished — you had more left to give.

In a coiled, poised fashion, Aemond moved from between your legs, prepared to untie the strings of his trousers and sink himself into you, but you stopped him, placing your palms against the plane of his chest. His musculature was lean and narrow, almost spider-like.

Aemond did not make a sound, watching as you rocked up onto your knees, thighs quivering as you eased him down onto his back — the same position you had been trapped in moments prior. He was enraptured, lilac eye glued to you as if you were heaven sent, a goddess coming to claim him for yourself.

You tossed one leg over him, thighs straddling those spindly hips of his, palms dragging across his shoulders, his chest, his abdomen — wherever you could reach. Aemond shivered beneath the intensity of your embrace, lips quirked into the ghost of a smirk, a look of perplexity to mask his desire to submit to you.

“Tell me you want this,” You whispered, nails lightly raking themselves toward his breeches, not daring to go any further until Aemond offered you his consent on the matter. He was often on top of you, domineering and incredibly energetic, but this was different — for him, and for you. “Say the word and you can have me elsewhere.”

The subtle bob of his throat wasn’t easy to spot, masked by shadow, one half of his countenance basked in the glow of the firelight. His sparkling sapphire gazed at you for an eternity, the other drifting across your supple physique, seated atop him as if you’d mounted a stallion.

His hands came to rest atop your thighs, splayed out, possessively groping your pliant flesh. “I want you,” Aemond uttered, his voice a delicious purr, an octave full of an unrestrained lust. “In whatever way that is.” He quite enjoyed this position — he liked seeing you in all of your beauty, bared before him.

With a gentle smile, your digits began to unravel the ties of his trousers, gracing across his hip bones. It was enough to make him shudder, even if the action was barely noticeable. Together, you and Aemond removed the rest of his clothing — and there he was.

He was a beautiful creature, all lanky musculature and pale flesh, stringy and angular. Everything about him was sharp, like the edge of a blade. Aemond was charming, enchanting to you whether he realized it or not. It was enough to prompt you to lean forward, pressing a string of kisses along his collarbone.

“My Prince,” You murmured into his skin, your nose nuzzling underneath the sharp slope of his jaw. You kissed him there, listening to the hitch in his throat. Aemond hummed, lips curling into something of a perplexed line as his hands wandered about your frame, ensuring to touch and caress every curve, every part of you. “My Prince.”

Aemond turned his head, the movement precise and not at all coincidental. His lips captured yours in a feverish kiss, his cock eagerly pressing against your slick cunt. You gasped, feeling the length of it tempt you as he had several times before, but this time, he grabbed your chin, ogling you with his lilac hue.

He wanted to watch your face as you sank yourself onto him, briefly grabbing his cock in order to guide it to your aching slit. The pleasure that blossomed across your countenance was a sight to behold, and you were met with the familiar tilt of his mouth, a fire smoldering within his gaze as he bucked upwards.

His cock speared you with a suddenness, causing you to moan as you adjusted yourself, rocking up onto your knees. Aemond’s palms held your thighs, and he was more than willing to do some of the work, unwilling to let you tire yourself.

It was mesmerizing to see you on top of him like this, breasts full and lovely, softly jostling with each movement. Your flesh was velveteen, pure perfection cast in the sienna glow of the hearth. The fire was dying, but the lust between you and Aemond was far from extinguished.

Your palms fell flat atop his abdomen, finding your purchase there as you began to ride him. It was sluggish and erratic, at first — you let out a soft moan whenever Aemond moved too, using his strength to meet you halfway. His hips lurched forward, cock thrusting into your cunt several times over.

A string of wanton whines and moans escaped you in droves, feeling his grasp on your thighs tighten. He was quite enamored with you, especially like this — there was no sweeter feeling. He continued to buck up into you whenever he could, sheathing himself inside of you, possessing you from below.

Aemond’s visage contorted into one of shared satisfaction, shifting from indiscernible to pleasurable. He sat up just enough to be within reach of you, hips pushing up to meet the downward fall of your body, his cock buried deep inside of you.

“Aemond,” You exhaled, tossing your arms around his shoulders, feeling one of his hands wander from your thigh to your waist, colliding into you with a passionate fervor. The pace you set was sporadic and needy, wanton with desire as you rode him, your movements attempting to temper themselves. “Kiss me.”

That breathy plea of yours was enough to make Aemond submit, lips claiming yours again in an achingly slow, heated kiss. The feeling of your tight cunt around him, slick and warm, made him groan. He was desperate to keep a rhythmic pace, if that were even possible.

Flesh collided against flesh, and you felt Aemond’s mouth pry itself away from yours, creeping toward the column of your throat. He kissed your jugular, face buried within the hollow between your neck and shoulder. You continued your conquest, rocking up and down along his length, nails digging into his shoulder.

Aemond coaxed you backward, wanting you on your back for the final moments of your coupling. You were swift, slumped back down within the furs as the Prince seized your haunch, spreading your legs by bullying himself between them as he had before.

His thrusts became a touch rougher, chasing after a release as he began to rut into you, cock reaching the threshold as he filled your cunt. Strands of pale hair fell around his face, brow glistening with a thin layer of perspiration.

You gasped, back arching as you hitched one leg around his hips, grabbing at his biceps. Aemond’s pace intensified, turning into something carnal and primal, need outweighing sensibility. Lewd noises filled his chamber — the clash of flesh, the sound of your entangled panting and groans of ecstasy.

Wordlessly, he sought your mouth, kissing you with a blistering force that made your head spin with delirium. You reciprocated with passion, feeling his tongue split past your lips, causing your breath to hitch within your throat. Your teeth snagged across his lower lip, enough to make Aemond’s throat echo with a faint growl.

Between the tangle of teeth and tongue, bodies becoming one, you rolled your hips in-tandem with Aemond’s sharp, brutal thrusts. “Don’t stop.” You whispered, wanting him to chase after his release, feeling the pleasurable pulsations between your thighs.

Aemond let out a soft grunt, cock burying itself within you over and over again, precum slathering your insides. The sensation of your cunt around him was perfection — he wanted more of you, all of you. You felt his hand snake around your throat, cupping beneath your jaw as he squeezed just enough to make you whine.

He was relentless, pounding into you with an obvious desperation that only furthered your desire for him. You gripped his shoulders, bringing yourself as close as you could, any sliver of distance beginning to dissipate, eclipsed by conjoined bodies and shared bliss.

At last, his countenance contorted into one of complete and utter pleasure, pale brows furrowed in concentration, violet-colored eye closing for just a moment. His cock throbbed inside of you, brazenly spilling himself wherever he saw fit. He pulled out halfway through, painting your thighs in a sticky sheen of glistening seed.

With a huff of finality, Aemond kissed your jaw, removing himself from you long enough to retrieve one of the many blankets draped across the foot of his bed. You watched him in rapturous silence, the way his physique moved, sinewy muscle highlighted by the flicker of a fading fire.

You cleaned yourself up, feeling Aemond return as he draped the blanket within your lap. As the hearth began to die, the chill of his chambers became evident, thunder rattling overhead, accompanied by the onslaught of a cold deluge. He rekindled the flame, wordlessly slinking down to curl next to you.

Strewn beside the fire, Aemond’s head came to rest atop your sternum, arm draped across your midsection. You held him, kept him close — it provided a sense of vulnerability that made you truly believe that he was yours. You stroked his hair, surprised that he hadn’t asked for you to leave.

“Whenever you wish for me to depart, say the word, my Prince.” You uttered, feeling him tighten his hold upon you. Aemond gazed listlessly into the flames, lilac hue half-lidded as you continued to caress the crown of his head. He didn’t want to go anywhere.

“No,” Aemond’s command was sharp and punctuated, despite the softness of his tone, something that demanded you yield to him. “I want you here.” He uttered, shivering when your other hand traced along what expanse of his spine you could reach.

Prepared to make your vigil beside Aemond, you settled, leaning into him just as he careened into you. The silence was eerily comforting, lulled by the atmospheric backdrop of the thunderstorm. You always enjoyed the aftermath — you enjoyed holding Aemond, most of all. It made you feel cherished in a different way, one that others might not have understood.

You shifted forward, burying your lips atop the pale crown of Aemond’s skull, letting it linger beyond the boundaries of chastity. He exhaled, body fully curled against yours, half of him reclining against you, the other half left to soak in the crackling warmth of the fire.

As your digits tenderly traced the muscle of his forearm, Aemond finally broke the silence once more, happy to let you stroke his hair. “I have always been different, teased and ridiculed,” He lamented, a twinge of melancholy within his voice. “Underestimated, most of all.”

It was a rare glimpse into the window of Aemond’s being — the man that craved love and affection, longed to be thought of as important. After Storm’s End, his mother had cast her frustrations and scorn down upon him, condescending and detached.

A gentle exhale escaped him as you stroked along the angular slope of his jaw, turning his head away from the fire and toward you. You looked down upon him, this man capable of ruthlessness and cunning, and saw the threads of a shattered youth — of someone who longed to feel a tender touch.

“Those who’ve attempted to slight me have always fallen so short of the mark,” Aemond uttered, a vague reference to the Velaryon boy that he had wrongfully slaughtered. He had some regrets about that one, but he hoped that it would cement his strength — he was the rider of Vhagar, and even then, it never felt like enough. “Hm.”

He seemed incredibly comfortable like this, pressed into your warmth, his cheek nestling against your collarbone. You continued to trace along the smooth plane of his musculature, allowing your digits to finally brush underneath his scarred, sapphire eye.

“You feel cold,” You hummed, noticing the way in which he absentmindedly leaned into your palm, allowing you to fully cup his face. “You are strong, Aemond — resilient and cunning. It is not my place to speak of your family, but I’ve come to know you, and I know that you are stronger than all of them.”

Bristling underneath the sweetly-spoken purr of your praises, Aemond kept his arm draped around you, the other coming to rest underneath your breast. The pad of his thumb graced your silky flesh, and he wanted to stay like this forever, if he could.

Aemond regarded you with a forlorn intensity, one that still danced with a subtle frustration, intermingled with his growing sense of possessiveness towards you. He kissed your palm, and then placed a kiss against your chest, ear pressed to the beating swell of your heart.

“I do not feel different with you,” Aemond uttered, able to listen to the little flutter within your chest, the steady gallop of your heart. “I do not want that to change.” His tone became solemn, and you simply coaxed him closer, allowing him to use the crook of your elbow as a place to rest, fingers raking through his hair.

“It won’t change, my Prince.” Your reassurance was gentle, as saccharine as the finest honey. Aemond’s hum was one of contentment as he crawled forward, head resting against your shoulder instead, allowing him to better hold onto you just as you held him.

Silence passed between you, accompanied by the brief crackle of dried tinder atop the logs, the light of burning embers dancing before you both. He kissed your jaw again, the slope of his nose brushing around your neck as he peered towards the flames.

Again, you felt your breath hitch when Aemond held tightly to you, lifting his head just enough to gaze down upon you. Your countenance was captivating — beautiful beyond compare, awestruck of his appearance. His lilac hue flickered across your face, drinking in the doe-like look you had before he hummed.

The ghost of an indiscernible expression fluttered across his features — incredibly subtle, yet present nonetheless. “I certainly hope not.” He murmured, lips molding themselves to yours, and then to the corner of your mouth before he resumed his former position.

You kissed the top of his head once more, cradling him as you would something fragile. You knew that Aemond’s insecurities resurfaced often, but now, they seemed far more prevalent. Regardless, your affection for him wouldn’t waver — you worried that he wouldn’t feel the same for you, however.

Unbeknownst to you, Aemond already possessed you, body and soul — and that was more dangerous than any blade or any dragon.

copyright @ swordgrace / please do not post or translate my works onto other platforms.

[velvet-paradox]

Rewarded

Fandom: Call of Duty/ Fantasy AU Pairing: Knight!König x Princess!Female reader Summary: You've been living a double life to get close to the kingdom's blood Knight. Length: Long Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY, L-bomb, friends to lovers, pining, magic, p in v, creampie, smut.

"Squire! Where the devils are you?"

You came running through the stables, your cloak, cardinal red flowed and swirled around your form. You nearly tripped over a bucket, dust and manure kicking up behind you. Maybe you would have reached your destination more swiftly had you not been carrying that book about.

"I say, squire!"

You stopped just short of your Knight, only bumping just slightly into his polished armor. You had done quite the job this morn! You could make out your own reflection in the metal breast plate or rather the reflection you had created.

"I am here sire. I made great haste through the halls but to no avail I am proven to be late once more." Your knight, the one you bet on every joust, a victor, a champion merely looked down at your presence. What König saw was a scrawny squire boy, moppy hair, holes along the thighs of your leggings, boots a size too big and shrouded by a far too portly cloak. The complete opposite of your true identify.

"You need to put that brain rot away, where it belongs. In the catacombs, in the libraries, down in the archives and not in the stables, boy!" König tsked you through his helmet, only enough room to see his gorgeous blue eyes sparkle behind them. One this occasion he had smeared some coal along his face, making the two orbs stand out like stars in the night sky.

You had often wondered what that would be like, oh how you enjoyed his company! To lay beneath the stars out in the mossy valley, just you and your knight, enjoying the silence. Counting stars, making out constellations. Sharing knowledge. Passing the time. He might even one day choose to hold your hand in the misty dark.

"But it not just some tome, sire! Theses are ancient texts, a forgotten language that I refuse to let drift along like wood in the river. Someone took the time to write all of this down, is it not in favor of knowledge to not let that die on deaf ears?"

"You think too much for such a squire. Come now, put that down and help me."

"But sire--"

"Oh no, boy! Not that 'knowledge before the blade' stuff again. Just do as you are told."

You did not wish to set the book down on some filthy hay, König's pride and joy of a black and grey speckled horse, Sapphire, had recently relieved herself on, you kicked over a half full buck and set it down.

"Aye 'ave you been in here long?" The captain, John Price announced with his booming voice into the stables. It never failed to make you jump, stepping on the armored foot of the Knight. He toked on a cigar from some other realm, it smelled sickly sweet it made your nose twitch.

"Yes sir, all evening, why?"

"The princess… she is feared missing. Again. The king of course has asked me to keep it quiet but I thought maybe she were out here with you." John gave you a sneering look as you kicked around some dirt.

"Nay. And why should the princess be out here with the likes of me, then?" König retorted.

He gave you a bump when he heard you curse in the presence of the captain.

You knew why he'd asked, König did as well. It is simply because--

"You two are well aquatinted. Everyone in the kingdom knows that! If she were not lusted after by suitors here or in the next realm, courted by Sebastian Kruger himself but you did not hear such from me, I would say she would on your arm, no?" Price chuckled out plumes of smoke.

"Hardly. We are merely friends. And no, I have not seen her grace."

"Very well. The scouts will be looking over the grounds, if you see her, let her know she is requested to the box."

While they chatted about the celebratory joust, being small and hidden, were able to slink away. An empty stable, no prying eyes, you revealed yourself in the corner. You whisked off the glamour magic that had made you König's squire boy. Rounding your bare shoulders, holes were daintily carved out in a wave like design that carried across your chest. Embroidery details of flowers and leaves sewn delicately through the sheer puffy sleeves.

With your head held high, you hurried out of said stable, outside of them truly, and feigned your innocence. You even hummed a little tune as you passed by, loud enough for if not one but both were to hear, to keep your secret hidden.

"Aye! My lady Y/N, where have you been?" Price barked and proceeded to bow as you made your way back to these men as if you were not just there moments ago.

"My dear captain, is it illegal for me to strut about my own kingdom? Since when?"

"That is not what I meant, I-I merely was concerned for your well being. Foreigners have been known to steal royalty at such large events. Held ransom or far worse, my dear."

"And you think the great König would have allowed that?" You scoffed, leaning an arm onto König's shoulder like a foothold. The gentle rattle of his armor was cool against your sheer sleeves. "I think not sir. I was just strolling about, enjoying the days warmth and as you can see, no harm fell on me."

"Very well," Price announced, hiding his cigar from your dress. "When you are finished here, Sebastian will be waiting for you in the box. Good luck König."

"Yes, König," you taunt, playfully of course. This double life thing was getting quite tiresome but this was the bed you made and you must lay in it. "Very good luck."

"Have you already placed your bets, my lady?" König asked, banter in his voice as well as he stroked Sapphire's tidy mane.

"First thing I did this morning!" actually the first thing you did this morning was use a bit of magic, not too much to be suspicious but enough to polish the armor the big man before donned. "You know I always bet on you."

"Ah! My biggest supporter, really."

"Ha! All of the kingdom adore you König, and you know it." You clasped your hands in front of you, testing him to see if he'd cave and look down at your cleavage. "Where is your squire? he has left his book."

"That old thing, I should just let Sapphire piss all over it. More harm than good that thing. He most likely tore out of here in a frenzy, terrified of Price."

"König! You take that back at once, if the boy has a hobby, let him have it. Lord know he needs something to deal with the likes of you all damn day!"

"I mean this in the nicest of ways dear princess, but kindly, piss off." You snorted when he tripped against the stool, bending over and righting it for him so he could properly mount Sapphire. This time you did in fact catch him peeking. Blue eyes on yours quickly thereafter.

"As you wish sir," you curtsied and just before you swayed away from the stables, you grabbed up the book. "For safe keeping of course."

"Of course, princess."

….

"Whose he up against again?" Sebastian asked next to you, over the roar of the crowd. His breath already reeking of wine.

"Keegan. USMC's finest knight. Did you not see the bulletin when you arrived two days prior?"

"Guess I was too concerned about getting between my princesses legs." You whacked him arm, your father was nearby and heaven forbid he find out you are sleeping with the potential enemy, or that you were no longer pure. Might send him into an early grave.

The truth was you hadn't slept with the man beside you, flirted with the idea, but then he would say something most fowl and you couldn't help but pray your father might put you out of your misery and have the man exiled from the kingdom.

"Watch your tongue, Sebastian. You do know I can order it cut from your face, correct?"

"Would you continue to use it?"

"You are a sick man, Kruger. Ugh."

Everyone was finally settling down for the joust, your countrymen across from you shouting jeers and the dislike for your Knight, vice versa. It was all fun and games until someone had a little too much, lost in their cups, sheets to the wind and made the wrong choice. They'd end up sleeping it off that next day in the stocks if not worse depending.

All that mattered was the book safely hidden under your seat and that König would turn to be the victor, to receive a kiss upon his helm.

Sapphire soon set the scene, prancing out on the left side of the course, shaking her mane, swishing her tail, stomping her hooves into the sand. König held up his arm, his decorated lance, to the cheering crowd. As he did his first lap around, he had Sapphire stop in front of your box and curtsey, König even tipped an imaginary hat to you.

Keegan did the same, one lap and a show of grace and gratitude.

"Who do you suppose--"

"König never fails me."

It was true. Almost as if by some divine luck did König always win once you began betting on the man. You'd watch from your fathers' box until you were old enough to get your own, years now, close in proximity of course, had to remind you not to shout too loudly, that it wasn't very ladylike. You spat at that remark. A lady can choose whatever she does. The tantrums you would throw about hearing conversations of betrothment, sent off or given to some ugly prince or old king. Blegh. The thought of being touched made your blood boil, it was bad enough Sebastian thought you might lay with.

Bundling or bare. Yuck.

One might think, by your words, that you had used your magic to keep the score, keep him on the winning list of things but this was all König. You were told he was special. The faeries told you so one evening in the veranda, making their little mushroom circle so they could live lavishly, dancing about like fire flies.

"You know of König? the blood Knight, yes?"

"Of course."

"He is very special, not only to you but to all the realm, all who look upon him. See that he is looked after. Cared for, loved and he shall return it ten fold!"

"I am not going to use a spell or curse him."

"No no, princess. Not like that. How would you nurse a kitten back to health? with time and care, patience. Preside over him as much as you can and you will be grateful and rewarded."

Their high pitch whispers in your ear tingled the hairs on your arms and neck. The little fae never left your garden, had been there before you were even thought of all those years ago, let alone how would they know about König?

And he did not fail yet again this night. The clashing of lance to chest plate, the crowd, the roar and grunts of pounding steeds and hooves in sand. The excitement, the adrenaline of watching two brutes joust and beat each other back and forth for all its' worth. All the praise, to be champion. All the spoils to the victor. Keegan was a dear friend and ally, all was not lost after the battle. Armor a bit dented, but nothing too serious. No wooden pieces had been lodged anywhere tender.

König trotted Sapphire towards your box and you made your way down the little steps, leaning over the balcony and looked straight into his eyes. They were on fire. He radiated heat and exhaustion.

You put your hands on his pauldrons and leaned in close.

"You fought valiantly, you are rewarded kindly." You kissed both sides of his helmet, lingering a bit on the second one as you could smell his aroma, distinctly König with added sweat of course. Bergamot, red currants, burning wood, hay; divine. "My blood Knight."

Sapphire even allowed a little snout pat before trotting off.

….

"Should I be worrisome, child?" Your father asks of you, as you lay in bed lipping through the pages of the book. He does not care much for your reading habits, most unbecoming of a young lady even though you are closer an age to König than most of the gentry women you surround yourself with. They are of the season, supple and willing to marry old wealth, put up with splotched hands on smooth skin, made some slave woman of her own name in a locked away tower somewhere. You've heard the horrors, seen the terrors. It is not pretty.

"Of what now, father?" You ask without even looking up.

"Of your friendship with the blood Knight," your father paced the length of you room, settling himself out on to the balcony, hands drawn and clasped behind his back. With a sigh you will your legs to move, to bookmark the page and get up. "Are you two… meaning to be more than friends?"

"Father please. König and I are truthfully platonic," you pat his shoulder with a genuine smile, even though behind your eyes and heart you wished nothing more than to be his beloved. "He cares for winning jousts as much as I. A true KorTac champion, yes? A real Knight."

"I suppose your are quite right, I just… I get the feeling there is something there and I do not know if I wish it to be true, someone to look after you once I am gone, well taken care of, loved. I do know you spend some time with Sabastian, supervised of course, to each their own child, I just do not care for his arrogance and stature."

"His stature?"

"He boasts himself too much, puts on airs. Is most embarrassing I must say."

"Agreed! Truth is father, if I were to be presented to someone for marriage I would gladly take König's hand any day."

"As friends?"

"As friends."

….

That was a lie but you did not wish to rush your father off to an early grave, if he knew your true intentions with your Knight. You would spend hours, disguised as his squire boy, listening to him rant and retell you stories of his valor, fighting off ogres at the outer wall of your kingdom. How he'd gained the trust of the elves, the way they taught him a few choice words over roast fowl and freshly caught fish. How the fire breathers danced in the moonlight, when he saved the life of several children from a dragon. He had the scales of the fallen beast sewn into his chainmail for added protection.

Not only did you want to watch the stars with König, some nights you would cast out magical hearts along your ceiling as you wished he would make you see them. Oh to be underneath him, you thought with a sigh, to see his face for the first time, to touch him, to kiss him. Maybe a true loves kiss if the faeries were correct.

"Preside over him as much as you can and you will be grateful and rewarded."

The ballroom is filled with jovial voices, sober until the actual dance begins. Sheathed swords line the walls, of all sizes, your kingdoms banners flow and move against the high ceilings. Other knights stop by your throne and bow their heads before moving on to get a drink, or something to nibble on. Which is what you are doing, quietly of course, cant be seen as royalty with spinach in your teeth now can you?

"Your grace, will you be joining me along the dance floor this evening?" Kruger suddenly popped up, he always does that, he' so slinky. Quiet as the field mice you used to catch when you were small.

"Must I?"

"I would appreciate one dance before I go to the wall, pray tell who knows how long I shall be without your beauty this time."

Forever, you grumbled to yourself and covered your mouth with a fake smile. "One dance."

"One time is all I need, princess."

Gowns of gold and greens, blue patterns woven into the busts, everyone was buzzing about, König's repeat victory, who was going to be wed at the beginning of the season, bets on who would be in the stocks come next morning.

A round of applause erupted and you need not guess who its' praise was for. He towered over everyone here he might as well be an elf. He waved and bowed to everyone, Keegan following suit, getting his own set of admirers. Some flouncy women would be joining him this evening no doubt to soothe his loss.

"Do you think you could handle that much attention, my dear? All eyes would be on you as well if you were to wed the blood knight."

Your father said next to you, a goblet in hand as he watched you watch König do his tour about the ballroom.

"I don't mind. I am not jealous, father. He can do as he pleases, go where he is needed most, helpful as long as he comes home to me in one piece."

"Well… Kruger will be displeased to hear it."

"Pfft, I do not care what the likes of Sebastian Kruger have to say. He is most, annoying is to put it lightly."

"Agreed."

The music is as light as the conversations as you dance a round with Sebastian, he's easy to move with. You've danced with him before, when you caught his eye apparently. He'd been trying to get your attention, bringing you blood stained trinkets in exchange for your affections. You weren't buying it and when he wasn't looking you'd toss them into some bushes with a roll of your eyes.

He suggested another dance when the orchestra faded out into a newer song and thankfully you didn't have to turn him down as you two bumped into König.

"Afraid not friend, this one is for me."

Kruger slunk away, giving you a bow as it would be highly inappropriate to argue with the winner of the nights' champion. It didn't help how König had said for me. You would ride that high for weeks, surely.

"You did save a dance for me didn't you, princess?"

He'd cleaned up, lighter gear of course, different helmet too. He'd even scrubbed off the coal, though his eyes were still just as bright and clear. He bowed.

"Several in fact, my knight." You also bowed and got into position, holding onto his armored body, you began to move about the room. "Have you already danced with some fellow maidens? Am I slim pickings?"

"Ha! I did not know you were suddenly a jester, my lady!" König chuckled behind his helmet, fingers intertwined with your own as he turned to spin you out only to bring you back in with your back to his chest. "Maybe you should start wearing one of those hats as well."

"Oh please, König. I know you are what the youths call a lady killer."

"I shall have you know, your grace, I have never killed a woman in my life!"

"Not seriously, you oaf."

He shook his head at you as you continued to dance, another song melted into the next and you thought he would bid you good night but instead insisted, begged for another dance. Who were you to object to his request? Plus he was warm and playful and you didn't have to pretend, using magic to be this close to him.

"You did not answer my query?" You pulled your body closer, leaning up against his armor, a blur of your reflection caught in the chest plate.

"Nein my lady, I do believe I only have enough energy to keep up with thee."

"You mean your name will not be attached to any maiden but myself?"

"That is correct. Should I use force and bring out my dagger, make it a point to the kingdom that I dare court the princess after a joust? Say the words and I shall." He joked and spun you, making you dip your head back.

"Oh König, you know I am a firm believer of knowledge before the blade."

He stilled for a moment, looking at you with earnest blue eyes. You were about to inquire what was suddenly the matter when it dawned on you what you had just exclaimed.

"I beg your pardon…. I did in fact not know that about you."

You flustered and shrugged as the other dancers proceeded to swell and dance around your still forms. "I uh, it is a common phrasing, is it not? One should be skilled in both, I am sure your squire would not mind giving you a tour in the archives. Should you pull out your blade you may as well bring out your quill as well." You tried to cover your tracks, it seemed to work as he was swaying a bit, getting into the groove of the dance once more.

"I suppose so. I have only heard my squire say such is all. And what shall I learn down there, hmm?"

"Perhaps the art of properly courting."

"Ouch! Oh how you wound me, a dagger to my side. That means I shall have to try harder to impress you then, princess. And I will."

….

You had been down in the libraries all evening, getting permission from König to do some light reading which of course meant you were pouring over that big book. The choice words, the incantations and spells were incredible. Written in a form you had you use your own magic to decipher, it took a few tries to figure out the meanings. Why were they written in the first place? If you know the casts, why keep them locked and in this two clasp book? If you are born of magic, like yourself, you would already have the knowledge, already gifted just needed to harness and control it.

You bit into your thumb while you deciphered the words in the air above you, kicked back, rocking dangerously on the back two legs of your chair.

Just then the doors burst open loudly, others studying shooshed the intruder and you could hear the clank of armored boots. Hurriedly you put the words back into the book just in case.

"Squire! There you are."

"Well yes sire, you told me I could study today."

"I think I have made a grave mistake."

"What have you done?" You asked and brought the chair back to its' original position.

He clanked and pulled out another chair, seating himself next to you, his helmet is in hands. "How old are you lad? Maybe fifteen?"

"I am all of sixteen, sire." Which is a complete farce as you are about double that, give or take a few months. "Why?"

"I figured. You have not yet begun courting young maidens. Do not follow my example as I made an absolute baffoon of myself last night at the ball. I did not mean to admit hidden feelings but I did so freely! How can I court her? What if she thinks I jest too much, I know how much she humors me with her wit but for the sake of my name and title, what shall I do?"

You looked confused. "Who did you make a mockery in front of? I did not see any such act. Was this behind closed doors?" Saliva had pooled in your mouth, had he admitted his admiration to some other beauty after your dances last night? Had you been actual slim pickings? Was he trying his best not to crush your feelings?

"You were there last night? Well my eyes were elsewhere I suppose. The princess, what must she think of me now? I dare not show my face to her. Well, you know what I mean, boy. I was in such a jovial mood I let my feelings out of their cage and for what? She is probably laughing about it with her friends. If word gets out--"

"What did you say to her, sire that would leave you in such a state?"

"I told her in not so many words that I plan on courting her! Impressing her! Showing off as if I have not been in love with her for years, how foolish of me, squire. What was I thinking? Jousting I can do with my eyes closed, protect the kingdom, no problem. Man the wall with the other Knights, tell me when and where. Battle, I have been to plenty and fought valiantly to see another day, clearly. But love, squire? I am but a pest." He clunked his helmet down on the long table.

You winced as you bit your tongue, watching your blood Knight pound his fist as if he were just a boy the age you were glamourized as. Not the recognized Knight all of Kortac and the surrounding realms and kingdoms knew of. He was in love with you? How dreadful it must've been to watch Kruger try to impress you, expressing himself with gestures.

"Sire, maybe this is not the best place to have this conversation," you shakily say, looking about the other knowledge seekers who were giving you two a dirty look. "Maybe your chambers?"

With a huff he lifted his heavy head and looked at you. "I suppose you are right, boy."

You felt incredibly small here, alone, with your Knight. His room was massive, tools of the trade, several sets of armor on display. Swords, some chipped from battle hung up above his bed in display, he did have a book or two set aside but their slipcovers looked a tad dusty. His bed was large and draped with several blankets, fluffed pillows too.

He sat at his desk, taking off his gloves and tapped where his mouth would be. "What should I do squire? What young man knowledge can you share with me if any?"

"I'm afraid I am not the right one to ask, um would you mind closing your eyes for a moment?" You held your hands behind your back, rocking on the balls of your feet.

"No funny business, or I'll take off your nose."

"Wouldn't dream of it. Just humor me a moment."

"Fine fine."

König sighed and shut his visor, you rubbed your hands together as you normal did to conjure up some magic. You took your time to reveal yourself, from the prickling, silly feeling at the crown of your skull to the ends of your feet, shimmering and fading away like balls of sand. Long gone was the boyish façade of leggings and a tattered cloak, replaced by your clean skin and dress.

"They don't have knowledge to share, but I do." Your voice came through and instantly König snapped his visor open and stood. "What are you doing here, my lady? Where is my squire? He was just here… are you in league with him?" König looked around his room, moving about, looking behind curtains, opening cupboards and closets, even the trunk at the end of his bed. Beneath it. Looking for a ghost with no name.

"I've been lying to you, König. It was the only way."

"The only way for what?" He said peeling back the curtains from his window again just to be certain.

Words bloomed and died on your tongue several times over before you finally came up with, "It was the only way I could get close to you unsupervised. No lady in waiting, no escort."

"What sort of trickery is this? Where is my squire, princess? He's here somewhere."

"I am your squire!"

"Prove yourself." He said and paused, waiting, standing still.

With a wave of your hand you transformed into his young apprentice, shock in his eyes. "See. I have been using glamour magic to conceal the truth, the faeries told me you are special and that I should look over you. I would be rewarded if I did and all that was was just an excuse to further our relationship."

"Why? Why go through the trouble?" He asked after being very visibly shocked that you were two in the same, one person, same thoughts, same actions. He came around the bed and looked down at you fumbling with your jewelry, twisting your rings, messing with your necklace. "I am just a Knight."

"Nein. You are not just some Knight König, you are my Knight and I am over the moon in love with you." You answered with a shrug when you changed back. "There was nothing to stop me."

"You love me?" König's voice wavered, on the very knifes edge of sounding accusatory. "Truly?"

"Incredibly so."

He inhaled deeply and walked past you, leaving you to look out one of his windows, you padded your way over to the high glass pane. KorTac was bustling, moving like ants in their hills and nests. Tears welled in your eyes when you did not hear him any further, left to sulk in your own dismay.

You had lied to him, pretended to be someone else entirely. Tempted to use magic, to quell your sorrow, maybe conjure up a storm so everyone know how pained you were in this moment. You may have lost him for good. You knew how filthy he thought liars were. Even if you did care for the Knight, your actions spoke volumes. Tomes the size of that book you so cleaved.

The door to his chamber creaked open, you couldn't hear his armor but instead came heavy footfalls followed by the locking of the door. "Do you mean it? The care you have for me? It is true?" His voice sounded different.

"Of course I mean it." You wiped at your eyes, tears had clumped your lashes together as you watch two little girls skip through the market below.

His footsteps pounded the floor, his hands rested on your shoulders and for the briefest of seconds, you caught his face in the glass of the window. You gasped.

"What are you doing?"

"If what you say is honest and true, turn around and face me."

You did, turning around you rocked on your feet seeing his bare face. The shape of his jaw, the curve of his lips and the bridge of his nose. All is revealed. He even smiled a little.

"You are handsome, no wonder you cover your face. Everyone would either wish to be you or to have sex with you!"

König snorted into a laugh. "Well thank you my lady, I have been called many things but handsome is not one of them." He smiled again, wider this time. "I can't believe I didn't realize it was you all this time, you kept your eyes and nose the same."

"I'm glad you didn't, I would be in quite some trouble."

"Certainly," König hummed and touched your face with the back of his hand, he'd never touched you like this before. He thumbs over your bottom lip and chin, tilting up your grinning face. "You are a very naughty girl. You have witnessed me shirtless on quite a few occasions over these last several months. Unchaperoned. How scandalous! And to think every time you went missing you were really with me."

"I was not complaining."

"Nein nein, my squire would do no such thing."

….

The first round of kisses were light and sweet, a hint of some sort of berry slipped into your mouth when he licked inside. His hands in your hair, cupping your face, holding your neck, ghosting over your collar as he wrapped you up in his arms.

It didn't feel strange or out of place when you pulled at the strings of your gown, letting it loosen around your shoulders before letting the garment pool around your feet. You stepped out of your flats, climbing on to his lap. The way his shift moved against your bare skin sent shivers up your back.

His large hands, used to battle and action, calloused and laced with past encounters felt warm against your back as he rocked you, laying back when you pushed at his chest.

"Are you in control, princess? Shall I give up all resolve?"

You only smirked and laid across him, brushing some stray strands of his hair behind his ear. "If you love me you will you let me."

"I would let you do unholy things to me." König admitted, tucking his hands behind his head as you moved down his form, lifting his shirt and mouthing over the skin you found in your wake. A large bruised on his ribs were nursed by your lips, kissing over the tapestry of scars that made him. He took it off soon after, helping you take off his trousers as well.

You stilled your hand above his groin, feeling the heat radiate off his conditioned body.

"Do I have your allowance?"

"You have every permission, princess."

You were overly full when you rose to fit him inside your cunt, already as mess of arousal. The noise he made when you sat, taking all of his length at your speed was incredible. You desperately needed to hear it, more of it. Apparently for König as well as he let out more sighs and moans of pleasure, grabbing your rocking hips and rolled you over with a hrmph.

He hissed through his teeth, "I can't take much more of that pace I'm afraid, my lady."

"Eager to fill me are you Knight?" You giggled, feeling him twitch inside you, he bent down and framed your head with his hands, pining your wrists to the bed.

"All night if you let me."

"Like you said," you leaned up and kisses him hard, flexing your hands. "I would let you do unholy acts to me."

That motivation is what got you pinned and fucked more than once that night. His thick cock slipping through your folds as if you were made for each other, he fit so snuggly. Your pussy trapped him, the praises he sang in your honor. How you sobbed his name when he thrusted into you, moving his hips as if he were riding Sapphire. The reverb of the meat of your ass when he finally rolled you over for a second round, bouncing and reveling in the way König's voice sounded almost watery against your ear.

I love you's in between sloppy kisses, the sharp pinch of teeth on flesh. You couldn't get enough. Yes your Knight was inside you, both of you moving as one, connected. Attached. The look in his eyes when he'd pull his cock out slowly only to push it back into your spongy, wet walls. You moved up the bed, the wood of the headboard bouncing gently with his thrusts.

"You are a naughty princess, haven't even properly courted you yet and here you are, balls fucking deep."

"Keep it up my love, you will cum for me once more."

"Can't believe you feel this fucking good. All our b-banter, our back and forth for this to turn into true love. I love you princess."

König held your throat while you rode him, moaning his name, scratching your nails down his arms. You leaned down, burrowing your face into this side of his sweaty neck, on instinct you licked some of it, delighted by König's groan and grab to your hip, you bit down, sucking on him.

You came again, holding on to him tight, the feeling of him bucking up into you, matching push and pull with a chase to climax together once more. You were already sticky, already filled up three times, as round after round had you two on the edge.

"One more princess, one more time for your Knight." König purred after digging his free hand into your hair, keeping you at his neck.

"I don't think I can! I am empty." You whined but kept fucking him.

"Nonsense princess, you are simply filled with me. Load after load you have taken. I am addicted to this pleasure you have wrought out of me."

It was then that you straightened up, leaning back enough to rub at your bundle of nerves, swollen still, dripping wet with hidden activities. König enjoyed the look of what you were doing to yourself, holding onto one of your breasts as you rubbed yourself faster, König could not take his eyes away.

"König please…. bitte I can't… I can't last… I'm--"

"I know it I know it, my love. I can feel you shaking, let it out for me bitte. Then we rest."

You felt it building up, your heart pounding in your chest, exhausted and incredibly satisfied. You could even hear how wet you were, how messy your pussy could sound. Messy with his cum and your arousal, thinking of yourself roaming your kingdom with his seed dripping down your unseen legs got you there. You toppled over, a fresh release of wetness and you were done for.

"One. Last. Time."

Slain by your own hand.

"Bless you princess, I knew you could do it." König groaned, finishing inside you for the fourth time, you were sure he was the empty one now. The morning light shone through his windows as you both laid there, holding hands and catching your breaths.

You laughed into his shoulder, sore but in the best and earned way possible. He kissed your forehead and tucked into your side. You were glad that you had listened to the fae, because you were clearly grateful and rewarded.

Tagging: @powerfultenderness @nepomami

[cookiekissers]

Ok hear me out hear me out, cutie patootie male reader x Longan dragon but like it’s in the part when Longan is making everyone rocks and reader is the exception pls pls pls

ohohoh being the exception, you have excellent taste anon. right away sir o7

Inevitability

[Longan Dragon x Male Reader]

With bright flashes of light, your friends, and your family cried out as their dough was transformed into cold grey stone. Floating orbs that looked like eyes flew about throughout the village, chasing down Cookies, and wherever they gazed all that was left behind was a new statue. You scrambled behind an overturned cart, still trying to process the whirlwind of horror and panic around you. Peeking above the wagon you see another Cookie, a mother and her baby, fleeing from one of the floating orbs, only to be swiftly cornered against a wall of a building.

Without thinking, you grab the first thing closest to you and vault over the wooden wagon, your legs sprinting toward the ivory eye. It was distracted by its current prey, giving you just enough time to surprise it. The orb turned its gaze to you, and you swung your hefty makeshift club as hard as you could, striking it like a baseball. The eye-like orb was launched a few feet, but not far enough. It quickly recovered and shook itself slightly after the impact, fixing its unfeeling glare on you next. You backed away nervously tightly gripping your pitiful weapon as it slowly pursued you. The eye followed as if it wasn't in any rush like your fate was inevitable.

You saved the mother and her child, if only for a moment. The orbs threatened to petrify everyone in the village without mercy. Were you just delaying the inevitable end?

The eye had you cornered now. But for some reason, it hadn't struck yet. It had frozen your fellow Cookies without hesitation, but with you, it seemed to be examining you for far longer.

A loud shout split the tense air, and a spiky yam mace collided violently with the side of the orb, sending it flying into the distance like it was nothing. Two Cookie warriors appeared as if from nowhere, fighting off the floating eyes with ease. One of the knights ran up to you, lifting you from the ground to set you on your feet again. He dusted you off while you stared in amazement at his, and his friend's, heroics. His dough was pale and he wielded a light blue and white milk mace and a white milk shield.

"Are you alright?" The knight asked in concern.

"Y-Yeah… But who are you? What's going on!?" You exclaim. The knight patted your shoulder to calm you, his smile was gentle and held no worry.

"I'm Milk Cookie, and that's my friend Purple Yam Cookie." Milk Cookie introduced. You glance past Milk Cookie to see Purple Yam Cookie swinging his spiked mace around wildly, chasing off the eyes with glee. Like Milk Cookie, he seemed unfazed by the situation and even appeared to be enjoying himself, if his hearty laughter was any indication.

"Don't worry, everything will be ok. I'll protect you!" Milk Cookie said cheerfully.

As quickly as they came, the eyes retreated to where ever they had come from. You emerged from your shelter with a few other Cookies and looked around at the carnage that had been left behind. In the streets dozens of Cookies stood frozen in stone. Your eyes became misty at the sight of your friends, and Cookies who had once been your neighbors, turned into statues. Stuck with expressions of fear and agony etched into their faces from their final moments.

You saw Milk Cookie and Purple Yam Cookie standing by, examining a stone statue and discussing something.

"UGH! The dragon eye orbs are getting away! Milk Cookie, let's get out of here and FOLLOW them!" Purple Yam Cookie grumbled.

"We can't leave just yet! We must stay to make sure everyone is alright." Milk Cookie replied calmly. Once you heard the knights who saved you were about to leave, you ran up to Milk Cookie and tugged his muscular arm.

"Wait, are you leaving?" You said. Purple Yam Cookie looked you over for a moment before huffing in annoyance.

"What do you want!?" He demanded.

"Please, if you're leaving, you have to take me with you!" you begged. The two cookies looked at you in surprise. Purple Yam Cookie then smirked a bit, apparently pleased with your boldness.

Milk and Purple Yam Cookie clearly knew who had done this to your village, and they would lead you right to them. You were going to find them and avenge your friends.

Though Milk Cookie tried to object to you tagging along because he was worried for your safety, Purple Yam Cookie encouraged it. Though you weren't as strong as him, you were feisty. He had seen you fight against the dragon eyes despite still being so weak, so he elected to let you come. Maybe you could learn a few things from him, and of course, he wanted to fight you once you got stronger. You pouted slightly. Sure, you were just a regular Cookie and weren't very strong, but you were determined to find a way to save your village and reverse the curse.

As you were on your way, you met some of Milk Cookie and Purple Yam Cookie's friends. They all wore armour made up of blue dragon scales and caught you up on what had been happening. That is when you found out the culprit that had attacked your village was an ancient dragon. Longan Dragon Cookie.

You've always assumed dragon stories were nothing but legends until the Ivory Dragon threatened your peaceful village. And now you were thrust into the middle of a brutal conflict and the world was on the brink of destruction. This was serious. Your stomach tied itself in knots at finding yourself in what was essentially a war. Milk Cookie had seen your anxious expression and comforted you, even offering to take you back home. But now that you knew what was going on, how could you just turn your back on the Cookies everywhere who had suffered like your village had and run back home?

You had no fighting experience and weren't a warrior like Purple Yam Cookie or Milk Cookie. Your life has been very ordinary until now. However, you were determined to do everything in your power to help defeat Longan Dragon Cookie.

Like a whirlwind carrying you away, you suddenly found yourself on the Tropical Soda Islands alongside Milk Cookie, Purple Yam Cookie, Gingerbrave, and their friends. You have never ventured this far from your village, but you were mesmerized by the beauty of Pineapple Isle. The land had transformed, merging with the surrounding islands and was thrust into the past, reviving long-extinct creatures.

The massive island that had merged was teeming with dragon eye orbs. The blue dragon scale armour you received helped conceal you from the Ivory Dragon's sight, but you still had to remain in hiding while the other dragons that had joined your side recovered from their encounter with Longan Dragon Cookie. You sat outside your hideout deep in the jungle and sighed to yourself. You were advised not to wander off alone, but you needed some time by yourself to process everything that had happened. Taking a little walk through the forest ended up being a mistake.

As you were walking, lost in deep thought, you were suddenly snapped to reality by the sound of the underbrush shaking. You froze, until a Cookie you didn't recognize emerged from under the big fan-like leaves. They were dressed in elegant white robes, their long white hair tied back into a ponytail. The Cookie carried a staff, and a large hat obscured their face. You blinked, somewhat hesitant. Was this Cookie a friend of Gingerbrave's, or maybe they were from the Stock Tribe?

"Um… who are you?" You ask. The mysterious Cookie didn't reply, but they seemed to be inspecting you closely.

Before you could question them further, with a wave of their staff, the Cookie began to glow with an eerie purple light, and from a swirling vortex of magic, a fierce choco cream wyvern burst forth from the Cookie's form. You shouted in alarm as the wyvern pounced on you, pining you to the ground and trapping you under its sharp talons. You were lifted off the ground and into the air, being carried off to who knows where. From the last glimpses of the ground you caught, you saw Milk Cookie staring up at you in panic.

"Y/N Cookie!!"

You thought your life was over, that you would for sure be eaten by the wyvern that had caught you. Instead, it took you across the archipelago to a white opulent palace floating above the waves. It made its way into the palace, into a refined throne room. Strangely, the choco cream wyvern was careful not to damage you. But it still tossed you to the ground at the foot of the throne. You quickly picked yourself up and saw a majestic Cookie sitting on the throne, dressed in white robes and adorned with golden armour. You stared in disbelief as you came face to face with the Ivory Dragon themself, Longan Dragon Cookie.

"So, you've finally come." Longan Dragon said. "You are an intriguing one." They commented dryly. Four dragon eye orbs floating by their side zipped up to you, gazing at you from all angles. You scrambled to your feet, but the choco cream wyvern prevented you from backing away further, cutting off the only escape route.

"What do you want with me?" You said, trying to keep your voice from shaking. There was a tiniest hint of a smile on Longan Dragon's face.

"I have been watching you. And I have decided to show you mercy and bring you to my palace so that your weak, pitiful life may be spared." They explained.

You were stunned into silence. What about your friends, your village, and all the other Cookies?

"You should be grateful I didn't turn you into stone along with your village. Come here, now." Longan Dragon Cookie rumbled. It wasn't a request. It was an order. Not knowing what to do, the only thing you could do was comply. You prayed that your friends would be able to rescue you.

You approached the throne nervously, awaiting the Ivory Dragon's next command. You gasped suddenly as Longan Dragon Cookie grabbed you by the wrist and effortlessly picked you up and placed you on their lap.

You fidgeted as Longan Dragon Cookie's arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer, your face suddenly grew hot.

"You will be staying by my side until I inevitably reduce all the weak, crunchy beings into crumbs, weak one. I will be needing a mate in the future." They growled softly in your ear as they stroked your hair. Longan Dragon Cookie's clawed fingers lingered on your neck and then trailed downward to your chest. You shivered and swallowed nervously.

You really hoped your friends got here soon.

[milkteasweetheart]

『dream a little dream of me』

silver x reader

summary: he’s known you for so many years. will you let him be by your side?

warnings: yandere, female reader, breaking and entering, reader is yuu, a suggestive sentence, desperation

The stars and waxing moon illuminate the old, wind-beaten dorm. The weather is calm in this late hour, unlike his thoughts.

You’ve driven him mad with yearning. No one can see it, but his beating heart threatens to maim him from the inside. He’s loved you for longer than he has known your name.

It started with occasional dreams. A girl, about his age, showing up in a pretty dress. He had told his old man he had seen a princess.

The visits had at some point become nightly. And eventually, every dream had your face in it, no matter the subject. You could be in a pretty ballgown, a suit of armor, or more recently, nothing at all, and he was thankful for the comfort of your presence. A comfort he could no longer live without. He was enveloped in a self-inflicted obsession.

His heart stuttered for a good while when seeing you for the first time. Silver was sure he had gone insane, his waking and dreaming worlds melted together. He had stared for so long, you had started hiding behind those two freshmen when near him.

「He could be a much better guard. Your knight, even if you didn’t need one.」

The news of your confrontation with an overblot had nearly made his heart collapse in on itself. The second time had him ready to whisk you away to safety. Can’t you let him stay by your side? He’d draw his sword at any sign of danger. Could you hold him like you did in his dreams?

You’re not from this world. It’s a clear sign of fate! You appeared from the distance of his misty dreams to an arm’s reach away. It can’t be a coincidence, by any definition.

The door doesn’t creak like it used to. Did your two card soldiers help you? Or maybe someone else? So many of them had hurt you and still had the privilege of your time and company. He doesn’t like the way they look at you. They don’t know you.

The lounge is bathed in frosty moonlight. His gaze lands on the couch. You’re there, unaware of everything. He doesn’t know anything more beautiful.

The slope of your nose, eyelashes and cupid's bow. Crossed fingers and shiny hair. A visual blessing. Better than a dream, for it’s tangible and real.

Why? Why does his throat feel like it’s wrapped in sharp thorns every time he tries to talk to you? He’d make it right. You wouldn’t look uncomfortable in his presence. He’d give you the life his dreams show. You’d never be in danger again.

But he can’t speak. So, he’ll settle. He sits at your feet, and slowly rests his head on your lap. The only sound in the night is the breathing of two people. Your lips are slightly parted. If only your presence is enough to have him overflowing with life, he’s convinced your kiss would break his curse for good.

Do you dream of him like he does of you? He hopes and screams prayers in his mind that you want his company. Have you seen the same dreams he has? Even one of them?

Take his heart and treat it gently. Like a delicate rose or a little bird. If you hate him, it’ll be crushed and your fingers will be stained with blood for eternity. Please. Let him be by your side. You’ll never prick a finger.

Eventually, the milky moonlight is traded for gold as the stars fade in the sky. He’s reluctant to leave, even when he has to.

「I hope you dream of me too.」

It’s tempting to show his affection on your lips. But he knows it’ll be the best accompaniment to a confession.

So, he takes your hand. A reverent kiss on your knuckles will satiate his aching heart for a bit. It’s a pledge of loyalty to your unconscious grace.

He leaves with one last gaze to your being. And he exits the dorm with no sign of ever visiting.

[sgt-seabass]

ʙᴜʀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ

✧˚ · . your fairy tale life ends in a slew of blood.

pairing — witch!bucky barnes x fairy!f!reader w/c — 5.3k listening to — ♫burn the witch warnings — no use of y/n, dark elements, body horror, blood and gore, non-con, kidnapping, bondage, chasing, mild violence, use of magic for evil deeds, drugging, dead dove (don’t eat it and complain to me about it) a/n — happy halloween! thank you to @goldylions for beta-ing. all mistakes are my own. shout out to @navybrat817, @rookthorne and @vonalyn for cheering me along with this fic.

Many fairy tales had been read to you as a child, back when you were small and your wings tiny. The forest was a place for fairy kind, as were all biomes. A holy sanctuary for those with magic, where the trees hugged and created a shelter of heaven-spun leaves and branches. An unspoken promise of protection.

It was not a place to be afraid. Not even in the nighttime. For the moon, bathed in the sun's light, provided a wave of peace to the world around it. The deepened hues of a dark forest lit by starlight were a place of magical refuge.

While many normal humans would be afraid, fairy-kind was taught that forests were a place of ancient souls, like the deep sea or the clouds above. And being half-fairy, this was a teaching you received at an early age.

But the forest you woke in was unlike any story you’d heard before. This was uncharted territory.

“Tinker Bell.”

The misty voice startled you awake. Your eyes opened, immediately taking in the deep red sky. There was a blood moon above, unlike any lunar eclipse you’d seen. The red glowed across the sky and your skin, as if you were alight with the malice that lay hidden.

As you sat up, you took in your surroundings. The dark oak and spruce surrounding you stood as noble knights, protecting something from view with its thick foliage. What wanted to remain hidden?

The dirt floor was sodden with woven roots and fallen leaves, dead and decaying. The only sweetness in the air was the subtle whiff of sap, but it was entirely eclipsed by the earthy smell of rotting wood among damp, stale bark.

This was no fairy tale but a place of nightmares.

No animals scurried at the sound of you rising, no birds sang, the area seemingly barren of any life. You didn’t know how you got here but knew you needed to get out. A place like this was not something Mother Nature would have conjured.

Your heart craved the softened, freshly aromatic scent of the forest near your family home. Where the leaves were crisp, and the sun gently kissed the treetops, creating a beautiful shine. You could almost taste the lovely sweetness of the fresh berries you’d find foraging. It was the opposite of how your stomach roiled at the smell of a dying forest.

The red light made it hard to see, darkness covering every inch of land. Looking down at the muddy turf, you wondered if it was blood you stood upon. But a quick swipe through the grime confirmed it was earth. There was an oddness to the scent of the soil. You rolled it between your fingers, pursing your lips. While it was dirt, this was not dirt you would find in the human world. It did not hold the magical properties it usually would.

This meant either you’d been transported to another realm or were stuck in a plane between the layers of earth and heaven.

Your hands patted over the clothes you’d been put in. A green sundress with a red robe tied neatly with a bow around your neck. These weren’t items from your closet. They felt fresh. New.

A sense of danger prickled across your skin, goosebumps rising on your flesh and hairs standing on end. You were not alone here.

The sound of old leaves crunching sounded behind you, and it didn’t take much initiative to begin running in the other direction.

Your heart began to race as a chase started with the unknown entity. You could hear it behind you, deep breathing and grunting. It was an obstacle course trying to avoid logs and roots, while trying to stop yourself from retching due to the pungent smell of burning, decaying flesh.

Sprinting away from danger raised a primal fear in you. The kind that rips your body apart so that every ounce of concentration, energy and intelligence can be used to escape the nightmares that trailed behind.

A blend of growls mixed in as a pack of rabid wolves jumped out from the side, lunging for you. You yelped, narrowly ducking and weaving away from the gnashing jaws of the animals. They joined the chase behind you, barking when you managed to jump a log that tripped a few of them. The wolves didn’t stop, though. They joined the ominous deep breathing that pursued you, as if you were Red Riding Hood fleeing from danger.

Needing to go faster, despite the close confines around you, you extended your wings from your back and threw away the cloak. Normally, your wings would open to the light of the sun, the streaks of light reflecting beautiful rainbow hues. But now, they added to the glowing red surrounding you, as if they were broken and bloodied. A sense of foreboding overtook you at the thought. 

You began fluttering to move faster, your feet only lightly touching the ground. Being half fairy, you couldn’t reach the heights of a typical fairy, restricted by your human-sized body, but that didn’t matter with the many branches that loomed and imprisoned you close to the forest floor.

Crows cawed, their wings flapping as they followed you with red eyes. You could tell they and the wolves were not real, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t hurt you. The birds dove for your wings, and you had to change paths to try and avoid them.  

Snakes slithered along the ground, and spiders bared their fangs on the branches above your head. It was claustrophobic, as if this evil presence was closing in on you, causing you a fear worse than your most violent nightmares.

With heaving breaths, running on pure adrenaline, you pushed yourself further than ever before.

You started to lose the animals and the mysterious creature, and it gave you a chance to begin your song.

Fairies cast their magic through their voices, affecting all who listened. Humans often did not understand the words but did not need to. The melody alone was enough to bring love and laughter to life. For that was the gift fairies brought. Through the pureness of their hearts, magic could be accessed and shared with the world.

While fairies appeared like blossoming flowers, there were dark vines that snaked from the ground. Those who used their magic for wicked intentions were considered dark witches. Banned from the sanctorum where Mother Nature sits, witches could never gain Mother Nature's trust, hence never earning their wings.

The song you cast into the acrid air was one of hope. A beautiful tune that caused fairy dust to fall from your wings as you fluttered faster, your strength increasing. But what you did not see behind you was the way the ground swallowed the dust, absorbing it to fuel a power that lay below.

“Tinker Bell.” A voice called to you. The name is reminiscent of the childhood teasing you’d endured during your youth. But the voice now held no innocent oblivion to the way it made fun of you. “Pretty fairy, you cannot outrun me.”

With no destination in mind and no path to guide your way, you continued through the forest with threatening sounds behind you. And before long, the trees opened up into a small clearing. There was no reprieve, though, as the trees that formed the circled area were so thick there would be no way you could continue into the forest without having to squeeze past.

Skeletons and discarded bones covered the ground, and each time your foot touched one, they crumbled with a sickening crunch. Humans, animals, and all kinds of beings lay dead in the field, no flesh left to discern them. Their graveyard would soon become yours too, you feared.

“Tinker Bell,” the voice sounded, and it was much closer now. You spun around with fluttering wings, doing a full turn with magic dust falling to the ground, but you couldn’t see anyone. The ground rumbled beneath you, and you gasped at the sight of vines shooting up to try and grab you.

With darting movements, you maneuvered around the vines that tried to capture you. But the more you began to panic, the more magic that came from you, and the world around you absorbed it. The vines started growing in power, getting thicker and faster the more you tried to fly away.

The blood moon was in full force now. The entire sky was a pool of scarlet, ruddy and nauseating. This realm was feeding off your fear, taking it and using it for its own power. 

It was then the being showed itself, walking from the thick foliage into view. The sight of him shocked you so severely that you became distracted, and the vines took their chance to snake around your ankles and up your legs, stopping at your upper thighs. Another two vines grabbed each arm, holding you helplessly in place.

Before you stood an Oni. Or at least someone appearing to be one. A Japanese legend, Oni, were created through the death of a wicked human. Weidling iron clubs as their weapon, they would find enjoyment in crushing and destroying humans. They were bearers of punishment. While this man had no weapon, you feared for what he had planned for you.

But what did you do apart from giving the world your pure heart? What made you deserving of an Oni’s wrath?

Your wings kept fluttering as you took in the man's mask. Covering his face was intricate carvings on a deep charcoal wood. Horns extended on either side, with swirls that covered them down to the blackened eye holes. You could see his piercing blue eyes, stark in comparison to the darkness that surrounded them. The carved swirls continued down the mask's jaw, where it had cut sharp teeth with two fangs on both sides. The man was bulky, not the size of the Oni you had heard of, but he certainly eclipsed the size of an average human. He had to be almost seven feet at least.

He wore only black, with loose pleated pants on his legs and a robe covering his top beneath. One of his hands shone in the red light, and it took you a moment to realise that’s because it was an intricate metal, not flesh.

The sight caused an unrelenting fear in you, as if he had your heart in his hand, beginning to squeeze your very life with his threatening grip.

“Hello, Tinker Bell,” the man spoke, the deep timbre of his tone shaking you to your core as you struggled against your binds. “Are you lost, little fae? These woods are no place for a fairy like you,” he teased, and you could hear the smile in his voice despite the way his face remained hidden.

“Then let me go,” you snapped, trying to use wisps of magic to get the vines to recede, but all it did was make them stronger.

“Ah, hm, no.” The man approached in long strides with flouncing hair as the vines forced you to your knees, your body sinking slightly into the plush earth. “That would be an awful waste of all my effort, Tinker Bell.”

“That’s not my name,” you snapped, beginning to tire of his antics. You just wanted to go home.

“Don’t bore me with your birth name. Tinker Bell suits you much more.” His stature towered above you as he looked down at you, his hair falling around the sides of the mask. The mask was even more intimidating up close. Power radiated off his being, darkness oozing like a sick sludge from him. This was a man to be scared of. 

You began to tremble, causing the vines to rustle as you tried to still yourself. In the eyes of a predator, it is best to try and make yourself seem intimidating. But there’s not much you can do as tears well in your eyes. Your mother had always teased you for having such a sensitive soul.

“Aww, are you going to cry? I haven’t even done anything yet.”

You sniffled, spikes of fear lighting your blood like an electric bolt. “What do you want?” 

“Those wings, pretty girl.”

Your eyes widened, and your blood ran cold. You held your breath with a sharp inhale, anxiety clutching at your heart. When you’d first presented with your wings, you’d been warned that they were a rare commodity, much like an elephant's tusks. There were puissant people who wanted to increase their power, and a set of fairy wings granted immense magical properties.

“I don’t want to die,” your voice turned into a high whine as reality set in. This red forest would be your final resting place.

The man laughed heartily, causing you to flinch like he had slapped you.

“Oh, you’re not going to die. Don’t you know? Fairy wings grow back. Why on earth would I kill you when I can have a fae of my own?”

If anything, that was a fate worse than death.

“What’s your name?” You gulped, holding back the sobs that wanted to escape.

“You can call me Bucky.”

You were not above grovelling, and you were already on your knees, so you begged. “Bucky - please. Just let me go home. I’m begging you. I have a family, friends, people who will miss me. Just let me go, and I won’t tell anyone about you.”

His eyes darkened as if they were adapting to the shade of the mask surrounding them. There was a deathly silence as he considered you. “No.”

He seemed angry at the mere thought of you being missed. You wondered if it was jealousy. Does he have anyone caring for him? Unlikely based on his method of trying to gain more power. This does not seem like a personable man.

So, you tried a different angle.

“Bucky, you’re a witch, right? That’s how we’re in this realm. You made it?” His eyes narrowed as you spoke, but he didn't stop you. “We’re the same. Magical beings. We should be working together, not against each other. M-Maybe I can help you with some magic? In exchange for my release?”

“The moment I let the vines go, let you leave this place, you will leave me and never look back. Don’t lie to me, Tinker Bell. I can see through your bullshit,” Bucky spat venomously, moving away from you towards a large log that sat in the clearing.

And he wasn’t wrong. It was your intention to run and conjure a teleportation spell the moment you got out of this nightmare realm.

The vines picked you up despite your screams for freedom, carrying you towards the log. “Please, don’t do this! We’re cut of the same cloth. We should be working together! You can stop now. It’s not too late. Please, let me go!”

Bucky watched as you were placed over the log so your front rested against the bark. Your body curved over the trunk, breasts squishing uncomfortably against the hard surface as the vines pulled your arms and legs towards the ground.

A heat rose in your cheeks. You were stuck with your ass elevated, your dress ridden up, so your panties were on display to Bucky. The more you struggled against the binds, the stronger they held.

The blood rushed to your head when you let your neck relax, chin bumping against the log. Reality was setting in, your hope beginning to whittle away. “Please, don’t.”

“Plead all you want, Tinker Bell. No one can hear you here,” Bucky’s voice sounded behind you, his hands groping at the flesh of your thighs. “In fact, I’ll enjoy it more hearing your sounds.”

Bucky let his hands run over your skin, causing goosebumps to rise everywhere he touched. You could sense the power emanating from him, a dark magic present in his entire being.

The vines held firm, so tightly wrapped around your limbs that it felt as if they were seconds away from snapping your bones in their grip. You whimpered, skin cutting against the bark as you writhed.

You couldn’t help the arousal that began to pool in your core with the way Bucky groped you. His devilish hands warmed you like he lit a fire in your entire being. He was undoubtedly a powerful creature.

“You’ll want to be numbed for when I cut your wings off…” Bucky trailed off, and when you looked back you gasped.

He’d taken his cock out. Hard, veiny, and inviting – the thick flesh had an angry red tip, shining precum at the tip. You wondered if he tasted as powerful as his magic.

Bucky took a string of fabric to tie back his hair so it was in a tight bun. You watched, mesmerised by how he moved so fluidly.

He kept his eyes on you the whole time, his dark stare not leaving you as his cock bobbed between his legs when you let out a sniffle.

The mask stayed on after Bucky had finished with his hair, and you couldn’t help but be curious about your captor. Would he look like the demon he projected?

Bucky lifted the bottom of the disguise to spit into his hand, running his palm over the ridges of his cock with a grunt as his metal hand yanked your panties down.

Reality came crashing down, and you cried out. “Wait! Don’t! Please, don’t.”

“You don’t want to be in pain, do you? I could cut your wings with no analgesic, but I’m doing you a favour by giving you my cum,” Bucky’s hands gripped either side of the trunk, allowing his cock to sit nestled in your exposed ass cheeks. “I’m being nice. I’m not even going to fuck you.”

You shook your head, a sob escaping you. “This isn’t being nice.”

“Oh? Not even when I do this?” Bucky snapped his fingers with an incantation, and a small vial of pink liquid appeared in his hand. He took the ampoule, moving his cock out of the way so he could pour it over your ass, letting the pink sparkling fluid seep down into your folds.

Your entire body went taut, sudden bolts of pleasure shooting through your body like firecrackers. Your toes curled, and you wailed out a moan, wings fluttering crazily as you tried to process what was happening.

The arousal coursing through you was like nothing you’d ever felt before, Bucky’s magic infecting you and making your brain spiral like you’d had multiple orgasms at once.

Rainbows of colour swirled in your vision as Bucky began sliding his cock against your ass. You could barely register the rocking movement as euphoria filled your brain, the lust making your hair stand on end.

“See? It’s not so bad, Tinker Bell,” Bucky groaned, humping against you and pushing you harder against the log. “I bet no one has touched you like this before.”

Bucky kicked your legs out so you were spread wider, allowing him to slide his cock along your pussy, collecting your arousal. He rubbed the tip of his cock on your clit, and you moaned obscenely. “St— op”

“Ah, you don’t really want me to, do you? Look how wet you are for me. I bet I could make you cum just with my cock.” Bucky wasn’t wrong. He rolled your clit with the head of his dick, and whatever magic he’d used on you had it feeling like tongues were lapping at you.

“That’s it, come on, cum for me. Soak me. Lose that innocence for me, my little slut,” Bucky leant forward, hands pressing down on your wings, teeth nipping at your ear.

That was all it took for the dams to burst. The world was vibrant as you came, red filling your vision, your body shaking with mewls as your juices gushed against Bucky’s cock.

Your wetness allowed Bucky to easily slide against your flesh, heat radiating from his pulsing cock as he grunted with each thrust. “Fuck. You’re perfect.”

Time seemed to warble, your brain unable to keep up as Bucky grabbed your ass, pressing your cheeks together so he could fuck them harder. “Shit, fuck, oh— oh, I’m close.”

Bucky suddenly pulled back, and you hoped the ordeal was over. How wrong you were.

“They’re soft as silk, Tinks,” Bucky commented, running his fingers over the reflective surface of your wings. You tried to flap them to get his hand to move away, but he was fast, grabbing onto the delicate membrane of your wing.

“Don’t touch them. That hurts,” you whimpered in your haze, writhing against the vines.

“Oh, I’m going to do far more than just touch them.”

You felt as Bucky played with the pliability of your wings, the body part easily manipulated as it was soft and light, the only dense part of your wings being the cartilage that secured them to your back.

Pure horror filled you as he placed his palm onto your wing, forcing it against the log, using his other hand to curve the opalescent surface of your appendage around his cock.

“Fuck. So fucking soft. I knew it would feel amazing,” Bucky moaned, using your wing like a sheath for his cock.

You could feel the heat from his dick against you, your wings sensitive and full of nerves like the rest of you.

“Stop…” You cried, tears still falling, and you were surprised you had any left to cry.

To be defiled like this was something unimaginable. The happiness that you so often felt in your soul was becoming a chimera – no more than a hopeful illusion.

With Bucky’s grunts sounding behind you, you craned your neck to look at the sky, the red reflection making it look as if you were shedding tears of blood.

The blood moon shone proudly, the sky clear of clouds, leaving just redness to cover everything. What did you do to deserve this? Was it simply your fate to be a sacrifice to the wretched? Was there such a thing as fate at all? For so long, you’d considered your life set up upon a lineage Mother Nature set out for you. But no loving figure would force this reality upon one of her creatures, right? Your whole belief system felt shaken, like your entire world compass was stomped on and shattered.

What had you done wrong?

In reality, you’d done nothing to merit such treatment.

Yet the world bestowed the pain on you regardless.

“Enough, stop. It hurts,” you whimpered, the bend on your wing uncomfortable as Bucky thrust into it.

“Oh, it feels too good to stop, pretty girl. It’s like fucking straight magic.” Bucky’s hands braced against the log, using wisps of dark power to keep your wing in a circle.

The power from him escalated, dark clouds pouring from him and billowing across the ground, covering the graveyard of souls surrounding you. His breathy moans got louder, his grip on the log causing cracks to form in the wood.

“F-Fuck, feels too good. I’m going to cum. Yeah, you want my cum, don’t you? Dirty slut.” His hips lost their rhythm, beginning to stutter as he came. Bucky was quick to pull back, his cum coating your back where your wings connected with your flesh.

It was an odd feeling that washed over you. It was something akin to calmness, although it was forced upon you. The last movement you could manage was to look back, brows knitting together when you saw that Bucky’s seed was coloured black, before your body went involuntarily lax.

You lay over the log, your breathing levelling out as you became numb to the world. His spell didn’t just anaesthetise your body, but your emotions too.

You couldn’t even wish to be asleep as you started at the foggy ground.

The vines eased up, not needing to hold you so tight when there was no struggle, their tension leaving marks on your limbs.

“You’re so perfect.” Bucky complimented, but there was no smile on your face.

There was nothing.

You were nothing.

This was the end of everything, and the start of the aphotic zone.

The remnants of your tears fell onto the bones below, cleaning away some of the dirt covering them. But the damage to them remained. Just as the damage to you began.

You couldn’t see what Bucky was doing, nor could you feel it, but you could hear it. There was a sick squelching noise, followed by a sawing sound, as Bucky began to hack at the cartilage connecting your wings.

It was like nails on a chalkboard, nausea roiling in your stomach as you had no choice but to lay there like a rat in a laboratory, ready to be dissected in some horrid experiment.

He could have magically removed them. He’d more than exemplified he had the power to. But he’d chosen the barbaric route for his own crooked pleasure.

Bucky was silent, concentrating on his work as your body wobbled with each run of the jagged blade against you. Blood coated your skin, the ichor running down your sides and covering the wood below you. It gushed out, and if you didn’t feel light-headed before, you certainly did now.

The only words you heard enter the world were a whispered fire incantation. It was then you smelt your flesh burning, the blade heated to cauterise your wound as it sliced.

If you had any control, you’d be wailing, screaming, doing anything to try and get out. Bucky stole your anguish from you, leaving you like a doll atop the log as your identity was violently stripped from your back.

Mother Nature had gifted you your wings. They were your responsibility. And you failed to protect them.

Yet, in your neutered state, you were apathetic about it.

The impromptu surgery went on for what felt like hours, the slow removal of your body parts done both with intricacy and unrelenting brutality.

Your back felt significantly lighter as your wings fell to the ground, crunching the skeletons below into dust.

It was done.

You would never be the same.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I left some scarring. I want my fairy to be special and bear markings made by her owner,” Bucky said proudly, as if you could respond.

You just stared at the skull below you. God, how you wished to be dead on the ground.

Bucky came around the log and stood in front of you, cupping your face with his palms so you were forced to look at his masked face. “Ready to go home?”

Drool dropped out of your mouth and down your chin, unable to control your functions. Bucky swiped away the moisture. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Bucky snapped his fingers, and you were instantly transported to his home.

It seemed like a small cabin in the middle of a forest, based on what you could see from the dirty window. Every surface was covered with tomes, vials, herbs, and materials needed for spells.

The place had an earthy smell with a mix of floral sweetness.

You sat in the corner of the room, and it took you a moment to realise you sat in a large birdcage. With your body still paralysed, you could only elicit a small whimper at the realisation that you were trapped. A purple field covered the cage, assumedly stopping you from using magic.

Bucky startled you, suddenly materialising with your wings in his arms. Seeing them made your heart drop to the earth's centre. They’d lost their colour, aura, and everything that made them special. Now, they were no more than an ingredient.

You watched as Bucky placed them onto his desk, dusting himself off before turning his attention back to you. “Sorry about the mess. I should have cleaned up before you came over. But I’m sure you won’t mind.”

There was a sense of anticipation as he removed his Oni mask, showing you for the first time his face. You were surprised at how handsome and regular he looked. Sometimes, the evillest were the people we’d never suspect if we passed them on the street. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” He waved the mask before placing it next to your wings. “Since I act like a demon, I might as well look like one, right?”

With a grin, he moved to the bubbling cauldron that was hanging atop a fireplace, scooping up some of the mystery green liquid into a small wooden bowl.

There was intention in every movement as he collected the foul-smelling soup. As he came to your cage, every part of you wanted to scream and run. Yet you didn’t move an inch, sitting upon the cot with your back to the cage wall.

“Here. This will help you heal faster,” Bucky said, as if you had a choice in what you consumed. You felt ill as he got closer with the sloshing broth, your stomach flipping as he raised it to your lips. He had to physically pry your mouth open to pour the soup in, the heat sliding down your slack throat with ease. “That’s my girl, Tinks. Such a good fairy.”

His praises fell on deaf ears as your senses were overtaken by the putrid taste and smell of whatever concoction he had fed you. Almost instantly, you got movement and feeling back.

For the first time in your life, anger overtook you. You’d never felt rage before, but it was all that occupied you now.

With your wings gone, a whole part of you had been taken away. Without your gift of purity, you didn’t have the same emotional control. You felt human.

You jumped up, whacking the bowl from his grip and wrapping your hands around Bucky’s neck, ready to squeeze the life out of him. “I’m going to kill you,” you snarled, entirely unlike your usual self.

Bucky had stolen your innocence and replaced it with darkness.

“Is that so?” Bucky tilted his head, unphased as you squeezed. “Interesting.”

Your anger turned to desperation as Bucky’s form turned to sand in your grip, the course grit slipping through your fingers.

“No!” You screeched, running for the open cage door.

But Bucky was faster, reappearing on the other side of the cage and quickly slamming the wire door in your face.

“No! Let me out! You fucking wench! Hag! Get back here, you old bag and fucking let me go!” You gripped the bars, shaking them desperately as you tried to conjure as much magic as possible. But you had nothing, Bucky’s forcefield holding strong. “I can see why Mother Nature rejected you, warlock. You’re nothing more than an imp, picking on others so you can feel better about your own weakness. You fucking prick.”

There was no chastity left. Your virtue had been lost when your wings were stripped from your being.

“Now, now, that’s not nice. You hurt my feelings.” Bucky frowned, moving back from your enclosure. “Those wings of yours will grow back, and so will your temperament. I’m a very patient man, and I have no issue making your whole existence suffering. But if you know what’s good for you, you will apologise when I return. Wings or not, I expect you to keep the nature of a fairy, Tinks.”

With a flash, Bucky disappeared, leaving you alone in the dank room.

You collapsed to your knees, resolving into a fit of sobs. Without your object of anger there, you were reduced to nothing but sorrow.

Letting out a shuddered breath, you looked over your shoulder. Out from the scarring, popped the smallest amount of new cartilage.

The cycle would begin again.

To be updated on when I post please follow @sgt-seabass-library and turn on post notifications.

[rei-ismyname]

Storm used to get naked a lot

Magneto definitely has the longevity (pun intended) when it comes to on-panel nudity or semi-nudity, but Storm had many moments early in her publication history. They're pretty racist, tbh, the implication being that an African person wouldn't have the same understanding of the social contract dictating 'don't be naked in public.'

This one isn't public but it's got a similar vibe of otherness. 'Imagine myself back in Kenya.' As an aside, my disability makes showering a lengthy trial. I'd love to be able to do this.

Jean is Living with Misty Knight and keeping her Marvel Girl identity secret, so she asks Ororo to change out of her X-Men uniform. There's a flash of lightning? Cool trick, but yeah she's butt nekkid and Jean is aghast/horny/who knows? Ororo is like 'We all good?' and Jean nearly chokes on her drink (sure ;) It's not really explained, but I feel like it's meant to be read as 'African woman doesn't understand nudity taboo.' An excellent what if? would be 'What if Storm's nudist/body positivity became an X-Men thing?' I think it'd be good for everyone who consents, though it'd make it a lot harder to run a school.

This one is forced as hell. Nightcrawler realises Storm is swimming naked in the pool, and tries to hurry everyone inside so nobody sees her. If I'm being generous he means well, but it's still a little uncomfortable. Not pictured - Kurt talking to Storm; Storm giving a fuck. Because he loudly told everyone to get inside, Storm does too (why wouldn't she?)

Nightcrawler - 'Too late.'

Colossus - 'By The White Wolf?!?'

Banshee - 'Oh dear.'

Wolverine - 'Nice tits, darlin.' (paraphrased, lol. The look on his face tho )

She doesn't understand what the hell these weirdos are on about, and complies with Piotr's suggestion that she wear his shirt 'if you insist.' (Boo, double standard. Free the nipple!)

Ororo still doesn't understand, so Xavier (who's been listening? Watching? telepathically takes what's barely subtext and makes it text.

'What may be customary in your land is not in this one.' Yikes. Ororo spent a lot of her youth in various parts of Africa, but her childhood proper was spent in New York AFAIK. She's a US citizen This is her land. I consulted a bunch of African friends who've been to Africa and have family there - Nudity is not common in their experience. Same rules as most places. It's a very stereotypical portrayal of backwards Africa - as if it's a homogenous country and not a massive continent.

He continues 'For the sake of group harmony, I suggest in future you use more... discretion.' I wonder what word he was going to use instead of discretion. Professor X is the undisputed patriarch here, so naturally the most patriarchal stuff comes from him (especially in the 60s/70s.) I'd actually love this to be revisited and have it be revealed that she just likes being naked and it has nothing to do with her being from Africa. Maybe with a lightning bolt upside his bald head. Aside from the scene where Xavier recruits her, I don't think there's any Ororo naked in Africa scenes - she understands the concept of clothes. Ugh.

She was just trying to swim, it was these bozos making a big deal of it. It's also just plain weird that this came up multiple times with multiple writers. Same editor, though I think. Expecting progressiveness from Liberal Marvel is folly, but this just feels like policing women's bodies, and a black woman repeatedly in the same way. 'Stop ogling and objectifying the poor woman,' would be much more appropriate.

[storyscribeforthesentiment]

the detective & the dark knight | chapter 1

Summary: Detective Marie Manning, investigating a series of brutal murders in Gotham, crosses paths with the mysterious Batman. As they work together, their mutual respect turns into a deep, passionate bond. Amidst danger and corruption, their unlikely partnership evolves into a profound love, forever changing their lives in Gotham’s dark corners.

Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f! main character

Author’s note: Just a heads-up, the first chapter is all about getting to know Marie better. I know it can be a bit of a wait to see the fun stuff, but hang tight! I promise the upcoming chapters will be filled with lots of adorable Bruce moments, sweet romance, and plenty of action. Stay tuned for all the fluff and excitement!

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings/tags: mentions of gun violence, police bribes, fighting, murder

Chapter List

Marie Manning awoke to the harsh beep of her alarm clock, jolting her from a restless sleep. She slapped the snooze button, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments.

The pale morning light filtered through the blinds, a muted reminder of another sleepless night. Her mind was already racing, caught in a swirl of half-finished thoughts and fleeting memories of a dream she couldn’t quite recall.

With a groan, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and shuffled through her well-practiced morning routine. Her one-bedroom apartment was modest but functional, every piece of furniture carefully chosen for utility rather than style. It wasn’t much, but it was home—at least for now.

Her cat, a gray tabby named Marbles, sat perched on the edge of the bed, watching her with an almost judgmental gaze. “Remind me to get my clothes ready the night before next time,” she muttered, glancing at the wrinkled shirt she was about to pull on.

By the time she stepped outside, the chill in the air was sharp enough to sting her cheeks. Her neighborhood wasn’t exactly picturesque.

The garbage-filled streets and graffiti-covered walls were constant reminders of Gotham’s decay.

She ignored the distant sounds of an argument spilling out of a bodega, keeping her gaze fixed ahead. Her precinct was only a fifteen-minute walk, but in this part of town, that was plenty of time to be reminded why people locked their doors at night.

Gotham had a way of making you forget your humanity, Marie thought as she walked through the grim streets, her boots scraping against the cracked sidewalk.

People here weren’t just hardened by crime—they were numb to it. Their faces were maps of survival, etched with the years of violence, poverty, and loss that Gotham served up daily. Their eyes—dull, lifeless—looked through you like you were just another shadow to avoid. Like the light inside them had flickered out long ago.

And yet, here she was, pushing forward into it. She couldn’t walk away. Not when every corner seemed to echo with the cries of the city’s lost souls. There was no escape from Gotham's grip. People tried, sure. Some left for a while—but they always came back.

Gotham’s darkness was as much a part of them as their blood, their bones. You couldn’t outrun it.

Marie tightened the collar of her coat as she crossed a litter-strewn intersection, her gaze flicking up to the flickering neon sign above a dingy diner. The “Open” sign buzzed faintly in the misty morning air, but inside, the scene was the same—tired eyes, the sullen clink of coffee cups, hushed conversations. Everyone was just going through the motions, waiting for something to change. But nothing ever did, did it?

She remembered when she first joined the Gotham City Police Department. Back then, the city seemed like it was something she could fix.

She had the ambition of youth, the idealism of someone who believed that sheer willpower could change the world. The job was supposed to be about justice—about protecting people. But as the years passed, the weight of it all started to sink in.

She’d seen too many cases where the criminals weren’t caught because someone higher up had buried the evidence. Too many families left to pick up the pieces of shattered lives, while the ones responsible for the pain walked away, their pockets full of blood money.

It was a cycle. A vicious, unrelenting cycle. You couldn’t fix Gotham. Not with one person. Not even with a hundred. And yet, she kept trying. Maybe because, deep down, Marie knew the truth: if she stopped trying, if she let Gotham swallow her whole like it had so many others, it would be over. There’d be nothing left.

As she approached the precinct, the usual chaos filtered out of the building’s grimy windows—shouted arguments, ringing phones, the constant hum of a machine that had long since lost its soul. She let out a breath, willing herself to swallow the dread that started to form in her chest. But she was here, and she’d do her job.

This was where she belonged.

Marie pushed through the doors, and the cacophony of the bullpen hit her instantly. The chatter, the hum of printers, the voices that never stopped. She moved through it like a ghost, not really seeing her colleagues, just focusing on the task ahead. But as she passed Bullock’s desk, his voice broke through her thoughts.

“Manning!” he called out, his gravelly voice laced with the kind of tiredness that made him sound like he had too much of this city in him. “Gordon wants you in his office. Now.”

“Great,” she muttered under her breath.

She didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and headed for Gordon’s office, the clatter of typewriters and ringing phones fading behind her. It was quieter here—if you could call it that. Gordon’s office was always a chaotic mess of files, folders, and half-drunk coffee mugs.

Yet, in that chaos, there was always a certain order. A grim kind of order that came from years of dealing with Gotham’s most twisted cases.

She knocked once before stepping in, and Gordon didn’t even look up from his desk.

“Manning,” he said, his voice low and tired. “Sit.”

The chair creaked as she lowered herself into it. She met his eyes briefly—he looked worn, his graying hair mussed, glasses perched precariously on his nose. But there was a sharpness in his gaze that never wavered. Gordon had seen it all. The murders. The corruption. The city’s slow, inevitable decay. And still, he kept fighting.

As she sat across from him, she could see it now, more than ever. James Gordon wasn’t just a man who wore the badge. He was one of the few left who still cared about Gotham. A man who fought tirelessly against the same darkness that had consumed so many others. 

There were days when Marie wondered how he could keep going, how he could still wake up every morning and do the impossible. His eyes carried the weight of every injustice the city had thrown at him—every crooked politician, every dead child, every unsolved case. But he never gave up. Not once. Not ever.

He was tired, sure. His shoulders slumped more each day, the lines on his face deeper, but the fire inside him had never dimmed. His sense of justice was like an anchor in this sinking city, and even when everyone else gave up or turned away, Gordon was still there, standing between Gotham and complete destruction. He believed in the city—something she wasn’t sure most people could still say.

Gordon finished up whatever he was writing and turned his attention to her before announcing, “I’m assigning you to the Southside homicides,” as slid a thick file toward her.

Marie’s stomach tightened. The Southside homicides were all anyone at the precinct could talk about—bodies discovered with eerie regularity, each bearing the same distinctive red lotus tattoo. Her experience up to now had been limited to carjackings and robberies. This was a whole new level.

“Gordon, I—” She began, then stopped herself. Showing self-doubt in front of Gordon was a mistake she wouldn’t make.

Gordon set his glasses down and leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing her in that way he always did when he had something important to say. “Marie,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “You’ve been ready for this. You just don’t believe it yet.”

She stayed silent, her jaw tightening. Gordon had a way of reading her too well, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“I remember when you first walked into this precinct, five years ago,” he continued, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fresh out of the academy, eager to prove yourself. You were all nerves and determination back then. Hell, you barely spoke above a whisper that first month.”

Marie couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that. She remembered those early days vividly—the overwhelming noise of the bullpen, the skeptical glances from seasoned detectives, the constant pressure to keep up.

“You took every case I threw at you,” Gordon said. “Didn’t matter how small or thankless. And you didn’t just do the work—you owned it. I noticed, even if you thought no one did.”

She looked down at the file in her hands, her cheeks warming slightly.

“I’ve always trusted you, Manning,” Gordon said firmly. “Not just because you’re good at what you do, but because you care. You actually give a damn about this city, and that’s rare in this line of work.”

His expression grew more serious as he turned to look out the window, his back to Marie. He let out a weary sigh before speaking. “You’re one of the few I can trust,” he said quietly. “Falcone’s bought out 70% of the cops in this precinct. Maroni’s probably got his hooks in several as well. I’d be naive to think my force is clean—untouchable. It’s far from it.”

Marie absorbed his words, feeling the weight of his trust and the burden of the responsibility he was placing on her shoulders. Gordon’s fatigue was evident, a reflection of the strain the case and the corruption in the city were putting on him.

“You’re one of the only detectives I can say with absolute certainty hasn’t been bought out. I know you’re good,” Gordon continued, leaning back in his chair.

Marie met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest. She wanted to believe him, to trust that she really was as capable as he said. But doubt was a stubborn thing.

“I need you on this case,” Gordon said, his expression growing serious again.

Marie nodded slowly, the gravity of his trust sinking in.

“You’ve earned this,” he added. “Don’t let anyone—especially yourself—tell you otherwise.”

For the next half hour, they sat in Gordon’s office, the dim overhead light casting long shadows across the cluttered desk as he meticulously walked her through the case. His gravelly voice outlined the gruesome details, his words laced with urgency.

Marie listened intently, jotting notes in her small leather notebook, but as the scope of the case unfolded—mutilated bodies, cryptic tattoos, and a citywide undercurrent of fear—she couldn’t shake the growing unease in her chest.

She nodded and asked the occasional question to mask the nagging doubt creeping into her mind. As much as she tried to focus, the weight of it all pressed against her, making her feel as though she were a rookie again, scrambling to find her footing in Gotham’s chaos.

—-------------------------------

That evening, after hours spent poring over gruesome crime scene photos and case details, Marie felt like her brain was swimming. The red lotus tattoos were the only clear connection, but the varying methods of execution—drowning, burning, gunshots—hinted at a calculated, sadistic plan.

The docks appeared repeatedly in the case notes, a known haven for criminal activity. It was a logical place to start.

By the time she arrived, the sky was a dark canvas, the stars obscured by Gotham’s ever-present haze. The air was crisp, carrying the faint aroma of salt and rotting fish. Shadows stretched long across the wooden planks, the dim streetlamps casting everything in an eerie glow.

She moved cautiously, her boots echoing softly against the dock’s worn surface. The distant hum of the city was muted here, replaced by the rhythmic lapping of water against the pier.

Then, a commotion broke the stillness—grunts and cries, the unmistakable sounds of a struggle.

Marie rounded the corner cautiously, her hand instinctively hovering near her sidearm.

The scene ahead was almost surreal. Under the dim orange glow of a flickering streetlamp, two figures moved in a violent, chaotic rhythm. One, cloaked in dark armor that seemed to meld with the shadows, was unmistakably Batman. The other—a wiry, masked attacker—was just as swift, lunging at the caped figure with a brutal desperation.

Marie froze, her breath catching in her throat. She’d heard the stories: the myth of Gotham’s dark knight, whispered among cops and criminals alike.

Some described him as a demon, others a man consumed by vengeance. But seeing him now, so tangible yet so otherworldly, was entirely different. He moved with precision and power, his strikes surgical.

The attacker swung wildly, a glint of metal catching Marie’s eye—a knife. Batman sidestepped, the blade barely missing its mark. In one fluid motion, he caught the man’s wrist, twisting it with a sickening crack that echoed across the alley.

The knife clattered to the ground, but the assailant didn’t yield. He kicked out, catching Batman in the ribs. The blow barely seemed to faze him.

Batman retaliated with a savage uppercut, sending the attacker stumbling back against a stack of rusted barrels. He followed up with a brutal combination: a sharp elbow to the jaw, a knee to the gut, and a final hammering punch to the chest. The assailant collapsed to the ground with a guttural groan, writhing in pain.

Marie’s heart pounded in her chest as she processed the scene. The ferocity of the fight, the raw power Batman displayed—it was both mesmerizing and terrifying.

She glanced at the ground nearby and saw a man bound and barely conscious, slumped against the curb. His shirt was torn, exposing a red lotus tattoo on his shoulder. The symbol immediately clicked with the case she was working on.

Gathering her courage, Marie stepped forward. Her boots scraped against the gravel, drawing Batman’s attention. He turned his head sharply, his white eyes narrowing beneath the shadow of his cowl.

She’d heard stories, of course—how he moved like a ghost, how he struck fear into the worst of Gotham.

But watching him now, seeing the controlled fury in every strike, made her question whether “human” even applied. He was something else entirely. And yet, as he looked at her, there was something startlingly familiar in his gaze. Something tired.

For a moment, she hesitated. This was the infamous vigilante, someone she had only known through hearsay and secondhand accounts. Yet here he was, flesh and blood, standing between the shadows and the chaos.

Marie raised her hands slowly, palms out, a gesture of peace. Her movements were deliberate, careful not to provoke the imposing figure in front of her. “I’m Detective Marie Manning,” she said, keeping her voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through her veins. 

“I’m the lead detective on this case. We need to get him to safety. I can help.” She nodded toward the unconscious victim, her gaze flicking between Batman’s stoic mask and the man on the ground.

Batman studied her in silence, his imposing figure completely still. His gaze was unreadable, but she felt the weight of his scrutiny, as if he were peeling back layers to determine her intentions.

Finally, he gave a curt nod. “The victim is critical,” he said, his gravelly voice low but commanding. “Get him to a hospital immediately.”

Marie didn’t waste time. She activated her radio, her voice sharp as she requested an ambulance, but as the dispatcher relayed the delayed ETA, she realized the situation was urgent. “Fuck, I’ll take him myself,” she muttered, more to herself than to Batman, frustration bubbling up as the weight of the situation settled in.

Batman nodded. Without another word, they worked together to lift the victim.

Batman’s strength was a force of nature, effortless as he maneuvered the limp body, while Marie struggled slightly with the weight. She managed to open the back door of her car, and together, they laid the man across the seat.

As they worked, Batman’s voice broke the silence, low and deliberate. “The guy who attacked him… I’ve seen him around Falcone’s men. Maroni’s crew too. But I couldn’t get a positive ID.” He gave a brief glance toward the victim, his expression unreadable beneath the cowl.

Marie’s brow furrowed, processing his words. “Falcone and Maroni…” she murmured, her mind racing with the implications. But she didn’t ask for more; she knew Batman wasn’t one for long explanations.

Marie slammed the car door shut, her heart still pounding from the chaos of the moment, and glanced over her shoulder one last time—only to find the alley behind her empty, the dark figure of Batman gone. The only trace of his departure was the faintest whisper of movement in the shadows, leaving Marie standing by her car, the weight of the night pressing down on her as she slid into the driver’s seat and sped off toward the hospital.

At the hospital, Marie stayed long enough to ensure the victim was stabilized. During his brief moments of lucidity, he mumbled about being taken but couldn’t recall details. The red lotus tattoo remained their only lead.

Back in her car, Marie sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the glowing numbers on her dashboard clock. Her fingers hovered over her phone before she finally dialed Commissioner Gordon.

“Manning,” his voice came through, weary but attentive.

“Gordon, it’s me. I just had an encounter with Batman at the docks,” she said, the words spilling out. “He subdued an attacker connected to our case. The victim had the red lotus tattoo.”

The line crackled with silence before Gordon spoke again, his voice heavier than before. “Manning, I’m glad you’re safe.” He let out a long, weary sigh, the kind that spoke of too many nights spent battling Gotham’s darkness. “Batman’s involvement... it doesn’t surprise me. I’ve been working with him—for a while now. Quietly. Off the record.”

Marie froze, her grip tightening on the phone. “You’ve been working with Batman?” Her words came out sharper than she intended, disbelief cutting through her tone.

“Yes,” Gordon admitted, his voice unyielding. “He’s someone I trust, and that’s not a phrase I use lightly in this city. You can trust him, too. He’s done more to protect Gotham than most of us combined. More than you know.”

Marie frowned, trying to reconcile the stories she’d heard with the vigilante she’d just seen. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“Because Batman’s work is... complicated,” Gordon said. “And because trust in this city is a rare commodity. Batman’s not perfect, but he’s someone I know I can count on. Right now, I need you to do the same.”

Marie leaned back in her seat, a dry laugh escaping her lips as she rubbed her forehead. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”

Gordon chuckled softly, the sound almost bitter. “He’s not here to reassure anyone. He’s here to fight the battles we can’t. Keep him in mind, Manning. If he’s involved, it means this case is bigger than we realize.”

After the call ended, Marie sat in the quiet of her car, processing everything. Her mind raced with questions. The Batman she’d just met was nothing like the myth—he was a man, not a monster, but he carried himself with an intensity that felt almost otherworldly.

As the adrenaline faded, doubt slithered back in, heavy and unwelcome. The case was already a labyrinth, and now she had to reconcile Gotham’s shadowy protector with everything she thought she knew about this city. Marie exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. Gordon trusted him.

For now, that would have to be enough.

[thethreeeyed-raven]

⋆♱ AHS ♱⋆

navigation

🕷️fluff | 🕸️angst | 🐈‍⬛suggestive | 🪦platonic

⋆♱ MURDER HOUSE ♱⋆

⋆♱ Tate Langdon ♱⋆

🕷️ • meeting him in the murder house | gn!reader • part two

headcanons

⋆♱ Violet Harmon ♱⋆

🕷️ • being her best friend | headcanons | x gn!reader

⋆♱ ASYLUM ♱⋆

⋆♱ Kit Walker ♱⋆

🕷️ • the first step | x fem!reader

🕸️ • it’s okay to cry | x gn!reader

🕷️ • 🕸️ • home | x gn!reader

⋆♱ COVEN ♱⋆

⋆♱ Kyle Spencer ♱⋆

🕷️ • party party | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Misty Day ♱⋆

🕷️ • listening to fleetwood mac with her | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Nan ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ Queenie ♱⋆

🕷️ • being her best friend | headcanons | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Zoe Benson ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ FREAKSHOW ♱⋆

⋆♱ Dandy Mott ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ Jimmy Darling ♱⋆

🕷️ • defending him | x gn!reader

⋆♱ HOTEL ♱⋆

⋆♱ James Patrick March ♱⋆

🕷️ • buying him a dog | headcanons | x reader

⋆♱ Tristan Duffy ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ CULT ♱⋆

⋆♱ Ally Mayfair-Richards ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ Beverly Hope ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ Kai Anderson ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ APOCALYPSE ♱⋆

⋆♱ Cordelia Goode ♱⋆

🕸️ • as i watch you die | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Michael Langdon ♱⋆

🕸️ • qui totum vult totum perdit | x gn!reader

🕷️ • halloween party | x gn!reader

🕷️ • trick or treating | x gn!reader

🕷️ • bonfire night | x gn!reader

🕷️ • 5th of November | x gn!reader

🕷️ • new years | x gn!reader

🕷️ • valentines together | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Mr Gallant ♱⋆

🕷️ • being his best friend | headcanons | x gn!reader

⋆♱ 1984 ♱⋆

⋆♱ Bobby Richter ♱⋆

🕷️ • 🕸️ • 🪦 • finally | x sibling!reader

⋆♱ Xavier Plympton ♱⋆

🕷️ • i cared too much that it killed me | x gn!reader

⋆♱ DOUBLE FEATURE ♱⋆

⋆♱ Austin Sommers ♱⋆

🕷️ • 🕸️ • saving you from the pale people | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Harry Gardner ♱⋆

nothing yet

⋆♱ TB Karen ♱⋆

🕷️ • inspiration | x gn!reader

⋆♱ Valiant Thor ♱⋆

nothing yet

@lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom • @fangsp1der-2099 • @knight-of-flowerss

[honeyblonde8929]

Pulling The Reins.

- Ellie x Reader Fanfiction.

Warning: NSFW wlw, Smut, Lemon… whatever you wanna call it😂 and swearing!

• I see lots of fanfics of Ellie being dominating towards the reader, but what if we switched that round. I mean, I’d like to experiment with that…

-

“You okay? Ellie?”

You rubbed your aching eyes, what time was it? 2am? The timer was blurry and you couldn’t be fucked to focus on it. Something was up with your girlfriend, she was sitting by the windowsill, gazing at the stars that were twinkling amongst the the misty horizon. She didn’t take her eyes off until-

“Babe, shooting star! Come look.”

She curled her fingers, wanting you to join her. You sluggishly got up and stretched your back out, ouch, almost pulled a muscle. You joined her side, wrapping your warm hands onto her shoulder and slowing moving it up and down, creating friction on her freckly skin.

“Why are you up at this time? I’m surprised I didn’t wake up, especially if you moved my legs out of the way.”

She smiled and turned her head to you.

“Yeah, you like to put your whole body weight on me, like a pillow.”

Ellie twiddled with her thumbs, remembering how much she enjoys rubbing your back while you snore in your sleep, though you always denied her accusing you of that.

“Oh yeah? Like this?”

You sat on her right leg which wasn’t leaning against the window, you licked your lips in excitement, trying to hold back your yawn from only getting a few hours sleep so far.

“Babe.”

She brushed her cold fingertips against your tangled hair.

“Go back to sleep, we can do this in the morning.”

You definitely didn’t want to now.

She kissed you gently on your lower lip, your arm hairs were dancing from her saliva leaving a mark on your chapped lips.

“No, Ellie, I wanna mess around a little~”

“Oh, a little? I’ll show you a lot, baby.”

She took her plaid jacket off and threw it onto the wooden floor. You yelped slightly as you swooped you into her arms and carried you onto the thin white sheets. You bounced a little on the bed and Ellie looked at your see-through nightgown, your nipples erected, she loved seeing you turned on in as little as 5 seconds.

“Mmm, you are quite a sight, Princess.”

You smirked at her compliment, it really made your confidence spike through the roof. You sat up while leaning your body weight on your hands.

You tickled her ear as you whispered to her;

“Then why don’t you take me, now, my strapping Knight.”

It normally takes two rocks to make a spark, but this matchstick set a striking fire between you two.

And the heat was building up quickly.

Ellie listened to you, and took you in a more aggressively passionate manner. Before you could comprehend, she lifted your nightgown and placed it on the bedside table. Your breasts jiggled as she grasped onto them and pulled your nipple while biting the side of your neck.

“Mmm, oh~ Ellie~”

She sucked onto your protruding veins, like a thirsty vampire, her canine teeth leaving marks and little hickeys that were flushing up your skin. Damn it, she’s a natural.

She went down and circled her tongue around your right nipple, then looked up.

“I swear they have grown a little.”

She squeezed your tits, feeling the weight enveloping her hands. You started to feel the motion swirl down into your underwear. You had a few stretch marks on them, but Ellie didn’t care. She worshiped your body, and knew exactly how to tend to your soul.

“Well, there’s more to play with, I guess.”

You chuckled at what you said, then gasped at her teeth pulling and sucking the ends. Your voice slightly cracked as her wandering hands ventured down into the soaked fabric below.

“Hey! Where’s your treatment, El?”

You grabbed one of her hands, the ends of her index finger wet from tracing circles from your damp opening and you sucked on her fingers. Looking into her mesmerising eyes and freckled cheeks, you wanted to tease her too.

“God, that never gets old.”

She exhaled deeply, you wondered what was going through her head, nothing pure or innocent, you suppose. Good, you want her to give into your power.

Your tongue parted her fingers, making an “eating out motion” towards your girlfriend.

“You ready?”

Ellie looked a little surprised at your comment.

“What? Babe-“

You want her. Right fucking now.

You pushed her into the bed and locked her into position, sure, she was physically stronger but your mental capacity to take control took her breath away.

Ellie’s breathing quickened as your pulled her trousers down and left them hanging on her ankles, less movement, smooth thinking.

You didn’t break eye contact, how could you, she’s everything you could want.

And everything you’d want to devour.

You swiftly pulled her boxers down and put your hand onto her ass, now stuck in between her skin and the bed.

“Woah, someone’s desperate.”

You haven’t taken control in a while, it’s normally her doing the work.

“Nope, I’m just hungry for your moans… and that.”

Without any further thinking, you kissed her folds, revealing her wet insides slowing dripping on your lips.

“Fuck…”

“Mmm… i’m starving, Ellie.”

You spat on her clit and began licking in a circular pattern. Your damp nipples rested on her thighs, the hairs pricking your skin. You could easily be as assertive as she is, but she’s still your angel.

And she needed that heavenly orgasm.

Her abs poked out from leaning up from the bed, her moans vibrating in her croaky throat as she stroked your head. Her way of praising you. You loved her pubic hair tickling your nose and the smell of her sweat coming from her inner thighs that glided onto the top of your ear. Your hair was brushing onto her hips, adding more heat to the flame erupting inside you. Ellie gripped into your hair roughly with each tongue flick, and more so when your fingers entered her insides.

“Baby! Fuck fuck fuck! Ahhh!”

That’s exactly the chorus you wanted to hear. The sweet melody singing from each thrust you pushed, deeper and deeper. The blush tinging your rosy cheeks flushed onto the side of her pussy. The radiating sensation and her insides clenching your fingers only bought more raised howls of pleasure, echoing onto the walls.

“Jesus… baby goddamit.”

Her moans transformed into her catching her breath from all the cries she tried to keep in, but you bought it all out, and very easily you might add. It didn’t take Ellie too long until she was going to-

“FUCK i’m gonna fucking cum…. ugh…”

She was groaning now, her voice almost broken from the gasping moans. Sweat dripped down from the forehead as she abruptly clenched the sheets, holding them for dear life, making her toes crunch up, you nodded at her, not stopping for a second. You curled your fingers inside of her, focusing on her G-Spot that you could feel as your fingers also felt her cum flooding past, that was always a bonus when it came to taking control. Ellie’s eyes looked at your frazzled face, like a doe giving her all to the stag.

You have certainly given her some competition.

She had to cover her mouth with the hand, otherwise she might as well moan your house down. Her thighs were now covering your ears, clenching between your head, muffling the exasperating cries you heard that escape from her throat.

You slowed down gently, making the most of her sweet surrender. If you could capture a moment, you’d surely take a polaroid picture, but some things are best leaving an impression in your mind.

Oh, now you owned her. She can put you in her place, but it’s your moment of dominance, for now. Like a dog on a leash, you can pull her in the right direction.

A seductive, enchanting one.

“Huh…. God…. I’m speechless…”

She laid down, exhausted from it all.

“I thought I was going to make you cum tonight?”

You tutted and licked her juices, swallowing the thick excess down. Ah, there was your reward.

“Expect the unexpected, Ellie.”

You wrapped your body beside her.

“You’re all I’ve got, and i’m not letting you go.”

You lifted her chin up towards your dripping lips.

“I’m all yours.”

[scoganbingo]

Scogan Bingo Round 1 Round-Up

At long last, Scogan Bingo Round 1 is being put to bed with this outstanding array of links all celebrating these two and their connection, whether it's rivals turned friends or as friends turned lovers! Here is the entire collection of our Round 1 Scogan creations, under a cut because it's a HUGE list!

Also if you're interested in climbing aboard our fun and groovy and laid back bingo completely with mini-events, games, and adoptable fun, our Round 2 is still taking sign-ups! So be sure to check out these links as well as all the submissions under the Read More.

FAQ/Rules This should give you an idea of what we are all about! If you’d interested in joining us, please check out the rules before you sign up!

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Discord Once you’ve signed up, be sure to join us at the Scogan Bingo Server to interact with other fans :) We're a great family, a kooky crowd, and all around bunch of nerds who cheer each other on. We don't bite (unless asked)!

Title of Fill: he carries the reminders Author: Wolfsheart Card Number: SSB-002 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58168717 Square Filled: I1: Touch-Starved “I need to remember what hugs feel like,” and B4: Traces a scar on lover’s body Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: T Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Trans Kitty Pryde, Gay Bobby Drake, Minor Bobby Drake/Kitty Pryde, Minor Emma Frost/Tony Stark, Not Charles Xavier Friendly, Not Jean Grey Friendly, Charles Xavier Being an Asshole, Jean Grey Being an Asshole, Transphobic Charles Xavier, Transphobic Jean Grey, Scott Summers Deserves Happiness, Hurt Scott Summers, Scott Summers Needs A Hug, Bisexual Scott Summers, Bisexual Logan (X-Men), Protective Logan (X-Men), Protective Tony Stark, BAMF Emma Frost, Aftermath of Violence, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Protective Avengers, Hugs, Protective Bruce Banner, Sleepy Cuddles, BAMF Logan (X-Men), Swearing, Touch-Starved, Scars, Logan Has a Heart (X-Men) Summary: Logan gathers a small team to help Scott tackle a problem in the Bronx, but when they find Scott, he's all cut up and bruised and left damn near for dead. With Emma's and the Avengers' help, they take him to the Avengers Tower for medical care and recovery, and Logan doesn't leave Scott's side for most of it. It's during this time that he realizes he can't hide his feelings anymore for his teammate and sometimes-rival. Word Count: 8504

Title of Fill: Eden revives in the first kiss of love Author: Wolfsheart Card Number: SSB-002 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53491201 Square Filled: G1 “I mean, I’d totally kiss you if you asked.” Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence - Post-Movie: X-Men Days of Future Past (2014), Established Relationship, Established Logan/Scott Summers, Minor Remy LeBeau/Rogue, Minor Bobby Drake/Kitty Pryde, Gay Bobby Drake, Trans Kitty Pryde, Trans Male Character, Kissing, Making Out, Emma Frost Lives, Good Friend Emma Frost Summary: Logan wakes up in the present day, having time traveled to the future and past to stop Trask from creating the Sentinels that would wipe out the whole mutant population. When he opens his eyes, the world he knew is much, much different. Better but not at all what he expected. Word Count: 2,742

Title of Fill: The rock to build on, the wall to protect Author: Wolfsheart Card Number: SSB-002 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52822084 Square Filled: O1 – Bodyguard AU: “Kid, it’s my literal job to take care of you.” Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: M Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Mention of Sam Wilson/Misty Knight, Mention of Loki/Bruce Banner, Mention of Happy Hogan/Pepper Potts - Freeform, Mention of Thor/Jane Foster - Freeform, Mention of Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov - Freeform, Divorce, Post-Divorce, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Human, Not Jean Grey Friendly, Not Charles Xavier Friendly, Emma Frost and Scott Summers are cousins, Scott Summers Needs A Hug, Scott Summers Deserves Happiness, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Kissing, Making Out, Implied/Referenced Sex, New Year’s Eve, New Year’s Kiss, New Year’s Eve Party Summary: Nine months after a nasty divorce and coming off losing his job teaching at the Xavier Prep School, Scott Summers takes his cousin Emma's offer to come live in Stark Tower where she and her husband Tony Stark have collected a ragtag family. He believes the arrangement will be temporary until he gets on his feet, but with the promise of his own apartment in the building and a fresh start, he finds much more than he'd expected or hoped for. Word Count: 12,727

Title of Fill: Between the Raindrops Author: Scottxlogan Card Number: SSB-001 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57261679 Square Filled: G5 Time Travel Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence - Post-Movie: X-Men Days of Future Past (2014), Sexual Tension, Flirting, Hurt Scott Summers, Protective Logan (X-Men), Logan's adjusting to the new world, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Post-Movie: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014), Movie: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) Summary: Logan's less than thrilled that Hank has requested that Logan be the one in charge of keeping an injured Scott from trying to sneak out of recovery and back into the swing of things with the team. Knowing that Scott is always an impossible patient in this new world as well as he was in the last, Logan is reluctant to take the assignment, but left without a choice, Logan finds himself getting closer to the man who has never left his heart no matter what world he's been living in. Word Count: 4789

Title of Fill: Last Night in the City Author: Scottxlogan Card Number: SSB-001 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57210919 Square Filled: N2 Balcony Scene Ship/Main Pairing: Logan/Scott/Bucky/Steve, Scott/Logan, Scott/Bucky, Scott/Steve, Logan/Steve, Logan/Bucky, Bucky/Steve Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Foursome - M/M/M/M, Past Jean Grey/Scott Summers, past Jean Grey/Logan/Scott Summers, Scott Summers-centric, Scott Summers Deserves Happiness, Sexual Content, Implied Rough Sex, Getting Together, Propositions, Team Bonding, Collars, Blindfolds, mention of Emma Frost/Tony Stark, Polyamory Summary: Scott Summers prepares to shut his old life behind him after the end of Krakoa by spending one last night in New York City, but finds that things don't exactly to plan after a wild night with Logan, Bucky and Steve prove to work towards skewing Scott in a new direction away from the mission he's set on taking. Word Count: 8865

Title of Fill: Submission Author: Scottxlogan Card Number: SSB-001 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58143469 Square Filled: O5 Scott topping Logan Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sexual Content, Smut, Fighting Kink, Light Dom/sub, Rough Sex, Submissive Logan, Switching, Making Up, Versatile Scott Summers, Versatile Logan (X-Men), Digital Art, Fic and Art, Danger Room, Danger Room sex Summary: When Logan once again ignores Scott's command on the battlefield things get tense between them leaving Logan longing to find a way to solve the problem. Later Logan's trip to the Danger Room sparks a fight between them that Logan's hoping will settle the score and bring them closer to where they really want to be together. Word Count: 6282

Title of Fill: you mean more to me than you must know Author: Mercury Card Number: SSB-003 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51139258 Square Filled: I3: dramatic proposal Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: established relationship, marriage proposal Summary: Scott and Logan have been dating for about a year. Scott's ready to take the next step. Word Count: 695

Title of Fill: i'm pretty sure i'm the only guy he's hooked up with tonight Author: Mercury Card Number: SSB-003 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/scoganbingo/works/52921804 Square Filled: O3: aphrodisiacs/sex pollen Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Camping, Past Relationship(s), Recreational Drug Use, Aphrodisiacs, Explicit Sexual Content, Riding, Self-Lubrication, Feelings Realization Summary: Scott wanted to go camping. Bobby, Warren, Jean, Jubilee, and Logan tag along. But hey, at least Bobby brought some cool weed. He says it's from Krakoa, surely it won't do anything weird to mutants… right? Right? Word Count: 2,793

Title of Fill: one of us is always leaving Author: Mercury Card Number: SSB-003 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/scoganbingo/works/52540438 Square Filled: O5: Gifts Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Gen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Break Up, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Autistic Scott Summers Summary: Scott gives Logan a watch to say goodbye. Perhaps actually saying goodbye would have been smarter. Word Count: 883

Title of Fill: I'll remember you in the '88 ford Author: Mercury Card Number: SSB-003 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/scoganbingo/works/52082611 Square Filled: N/A (Holiday adoptable?) Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Gen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Domestic Fluff, Scott Summers Has Brain Damage, Jewish Scott Summers, Hanukkah Summary: Logan and Scott have moved out to a cabin in the woods together. They celebrate Hanukkah together. Word Count: 924

Title of Fill: im paranoid of things i cant avoid Author: Mercury Card Number: SSB-003 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/scoganbingo/works/51793231 Square Filled: O4 Autumn Festival Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Come Eating, Dom/sub, Autistic Scott Summers, Scent Kink, Cock Worship Summary: Logan and Scott go into a corn maze together. Logan gets them lost, and Scott almost has a meltdown. Word Count: 1750

Title of Fill: you mean more to me than you must know Author: Mercury Card Number: SSB-003 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/scoganbingo/works/51206344 Square Filled: N/A (Adoptable fill?) Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Gen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Poetry. Mutual Pining Summary: A poem about Logan and Scott, and how much they love each other. Word Count: 119

Title of Fill: maybe love is a broken thing Author: Mercury Card Number: SSB-003 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/scoganbingo/works/51182533 Square Filled: I4: Sex After a Big Fight Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Teasing, Daddy Kink, Past Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Anal Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot Summary: The only thing Logan and Scott enjoy more than fighting is making up afterwards. Word Count: 1882

Title of Fill: if you're looking down on me, i could really give a good goddamn Author: Mercury Card Number: SSB-003 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/scoganbingo/works/51159274 Square Filled: I2: First Kiss Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Mature Tags/Warnings/Triggers: First Kiss. Fade to Black Summary: Scott's been kissed many times before, just never by Logan. Word Count: 683

Title of Fill: A Certain Understanding Author: Meddalarksen Card Number: SSB-012 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53212288 Square Filled: I5 Headaches/Migraines Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan (Pre-Relationship) Rating: General Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Migraine Summary: Migraines are a disruptive force that Scott has learned to work around….by rather uselessly ignoring them until he can't anymore. Word Count: 1748

Title of Fill: Man Is All Animal Author: Meddalarksen Card Number: SSB-012 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58264483/chapters/148375141 Square Filled: I1: Animal Transformation Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Pre-relationship Summary: One night when he can't sleep, Logan finds himself following a cat through the woods of the school grounds. Between the night time gathering of woodland creatures with a cat, and the constant bickering and fights with Scott Summers, his days fill up quick. But nothing in this place is ever quite what it seems. Word Count: 10,106 First chapter: 2,504

Title of Fill: Mine! Author: Sivan325 Card Number: SSB-006 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52732372 Square Filled: Free Space Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Dark Era Comic, Spoilers, Fix-It, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Logan (X-Men), Omega Scott Summers, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Telepath Scott Summers, Blind Scott Summers, no beta we die like men, Gift Fic, Temporary Character Death Summary: Logan dreamt of this moment. All he wants is that Scott will be happy. He loves him so much that it hurts. Now, seeing him like this, Logan wants to kill the mutant that made his omega hurts. Logan shredded Scott’s clothes, or at least what’s remain of, as he made sure that the omega is alright and unhurt. Word Count: 1630

Title of Fill: I Have Doubts, Sometimes, Of Being Real Author: Endlesstwanted Card Number: SSB-011 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51335404 Square Filled: B2 Hogging the Blankets Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Post-X2: X-Men United (2003), Past Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Dreams and Nightmares, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death Summary: Months after the events in Alkali Lake, Scott wakes up from a nightmare to find Logan at the usually empty side of the bed. Word Count: 878

Title of Fill: Blood like no other Author: acidkoipond Card Number: SSB-010 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/acidkoipond/732750737357094912/blood-like-no-other-prompt-vampires-entry-for Square Filled: Adopted: Vampire (replaced spooky painting prompt) Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: General Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Blood Summary: N/A Word Count: N/A

Title of Fill: Morning together Author: acidkoipond Card Number: SSB-010 Link: https://www.tumblr.com/acidkoipond/749216698236829696/scogan-bingo-entry-scoganbingo-morning-together Square Filled: B2: Cooking with love Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: General Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Cooking Summary: Scott and Logan in the kitchen together. Word Count: N/A

Title of Fill: My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51254512 Square Filled: Free Square (Halloween Adoptables – Back from the Dead) Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Mature Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Angst, Horror, Blood and Violence, Gore, Cannibalism, none of that done on canon characters though, also all taking place as illusions/memories and described only non graphic, Human Experimentation, Medical Experimentation, Medical Procedures, Corpses Summary: When the Cure- and Dark Phoenix-crisis is over, Logan thinks he's lost everything. In the midst of his grief, Hank brings the stunning news that Logan might have a chance to get back the man he loves - if he's ready to go through to literal hell first. Word Count: 7626

Title of Fill: Open my eyes for me Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51229564 Square Filled: O4 – Image Prompt: Red BDSM/sex toys Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Medical Procedures Summary: After an accident during sparring in the Danger Room, Logan has to fear for Scott's life. Thanks to Hank's help, the recovery turns out to be more thorough than anyone thought. Word Count: 7808

Title of Fill: What is written in your history Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51202156 Square Filled: B2: Dirty talk Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Smut, Domestic Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, mentions of cannibalism, reminder that Victor Creed is canonically a cannibal, nothing said or done in detail though Summary: Logan and Scott have been dealing with numerous attacks by Sabretooth lately, and Logan is increasingly anxious about Sabretooth's and his common past that he can't remember. An old friend from that past showing up brings surprisingly good news. Word Count: 7520

Title of Fill: Your taste on my tongue Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51175732 Square Filled: I2: Flavored Condoms Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Smut, Grief/Mourning, Blood and Injury, Medical Procedures, Canon-Typical Violence Summary: As a new teenager at Mutant High unexpectedly turns out to be an enemy, Scott is left in a dangerous condition alone in the woods. Logan and Ororo get there just in time. Afterwards, there's some comfort downtime for Scott and Logan in order. Word Count: 4492

Title of Fill: Gravitational force Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51153247 Square Filled: G3 Pick-Up Line Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Depression Summary: When trying to save Logan and Marie from Sabretooth in Canada before Liberty Island, Scott and Ororo run into unexpected trouble, and Scott, badly injured, gets stuck in a death trap together with Logan. Luckily, Logan knows how to help. Word Count: 4100

Title of Fill: Bathe me in sin Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51132289 Square Filled: I1: Sex in the Shower/Tub Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Smut, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence Summary: When a heist to get to some Weapon X secret goes wrong, Logan only just barely saves Scott from an explosion. Afterwards, some comfort cuddling is in order. Word Count: 3539

Title of Fill: Feel I’m in heaven Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51106231 Square Filled: N1: Oral Sex Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning Summary: Logan isn't thrilled about Scott wanting to teach him how to fly the Blackbird. Scott has his own methods of convincing him. Word Count: 2562

Title of Fill: My eyes when I couldn’t see Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51081472 Square Filled: B1: Neighbors AU Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Alternate Universe (mild), Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Strangers to Lovers, Canon-Typical Violence Summary: Shortly after Scott has left Mutant High to live on his own and decide what he wants to do with his life, he learns about the Mutant Cure and makes a crucial decision about how to spend New Year's Eve. He doesn't expect a handsome stranger to get in the way of going through with it. Word Count: 6272

Title of Fill: Let’s be bad guys Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51056632 Square Filled: O3: Bounty Hunters AU Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Domestic Fluff, Torture, mentions of cannibalism, nothing happening though, Medical Procedures, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, the usual soul bond issues regarding consent, Blood and Injury, Eye Trauma (mild) Summary: Logan and Scott are on a space journey to get to the nearest Shi’ar settlement for medical help. To finance the journey, they've taken to unusual methods which mean a life in constant danger. Word Count: 4274

Title of Fill: Looking for something dumb to do Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51033427 Square Filled: G2: Honeymoon Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Smut, Medical Procedures, Canon-Typical Violence Summary: There's nothing romantic about Logan and Scott getting married. Or so they think. Word Count: 6880

Title of Fill: Basic instincts Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51010015 Square Filled: O2: Sharing coded love words Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Victor Creed is canonically a cannibal, which is mentioned here, nothing happening though, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore Summary: Sabretooth makes another attempt to win Logan for his cause, trying to turn him against Scott. It doesn't go as planned. Word Count: 3754

Title of Fill: Coldness of space Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51001786 Square Filled: B5: Sharing fantasies Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Smut, Medical Procedures, Depression, Drinking, Child Neglect, Canon-Typical Violence Summary: When Jean is resurrected by Phoenix and flees into space after a battle with the X-Men, Charles hires a person thought dead from Scott's life to take the X-Men to her. Scott is not thrilled. Word Count: 6281

Title of Fill: Today was a fairytale Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50955793 Square Filled: B4: Poppy (Red) - Pleasure Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Smut, Depression, Drinking Summary: On Valentine's Day, Scott finally wants to pop the big question to Jean. Things don't go as planned. Luckily, Logan is there to comfort him. Word Count: 6376

Title of Fill: Our love language dialect Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50932843 Square Filled: G1: Impulse Shopping Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Torture, Bigotry & Prejudice, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury Summary: Looking for a little gift for his and Logan's anniversary, Scott runs into unexpected trouble with bigots. Word Count: 4116

Title of Fill: Sweetest temptation Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50909293 Square Filled: N4: Dessert Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Grief/Mourning, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Medical Torture, Depression Summary: On her first official mission with Logan for the X-Men, Marie ends up in captivity together with her team partner. Freeing them takes more out of Scott than expected. Some energy recharging is in order not only for him. Word Count: 4999

Title of Fill: On the way to the promised land Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50883826 Square Filled: G4: Our Song Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Aftermath of Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture, Medical Procedures, Implied/Referenced Medical Torture, Blood and Injury Summary: Back in the field after recovering from his ordeal at Orchis, Scott promptly runs into trouble right again. Luckily, Logan gets never tired of saving his ass. Word Count: 3686

Title of Fill: Sunday morning after Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50857225 Square Filled: I5: Hangover Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Crack Treated Seriously, Drinking, Vomiting Summary: At a party at Stark Tower, Scott and Logan finally get drunk enough to spend the night together. Waking up the next morning is sobering in more than one regard. Word Count: 1950

Title of Fill: Feel what I feel Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50833585 Square Filled: I3: Soulmate: You feel the same sensations your soulmate is feeling (pain, touch, sexual) Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Grief/Mourning, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Smut, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Medical Procedures, Serious Injuries, the usual soul bond issues regarding consent Summary: Shortly after Alkali Lake, it turns out that a soul bond has been created between Scott and Logan, of all people, that causes them to feel every physical sensation that the other is experiencing. Adjusting to it takes some time. Word Count: 6080

Title of Fill: Some inner fucking peace Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50804824 Square Filled: N5: Yoga AU Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Alternate Universe (mild), Fluff and Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Strangers to Lovers, Drama & Romance Summary: Logan has had an eye on his attractive fellow yoga student for a while. When the guy doesn't show up for class one day, Logan pays him a visit. Word Count: 2240

Title of Fill: In this together now Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50782309 Square Filled: G5: Facing the Darkness Together Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Depression, Hurt/Comfort Summary: As the anniversary of Jean's death approaches, Scott is plagued by worse nightmares by the day. Logan helps him through them while a terrible secret is revealed. Word Count: 2414

Title of Fill: Just to bring you back home Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50759827 Square Filled: N2: Sneaking In/Out Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Mature Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Canon-Typical Violence, Medical Experimentation, Medical Torture, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Implied/Referenced Medical Procedures, Blood and Injury, Blood and Gore, Depression Summary: When Logan is captured by Weapon X after Alkali Lake, Scott goes to great lengths to free him. Word Count: 2263

Title of Fill: Reawakening instincts Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50735626 Square Filled: N2: Breaking the rules Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Mature Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Friends to Lovers, Depression, Canon-Typical Violence, Victor Creed is canonically a cannibal, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Vore (not on a canon character), Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Injury, Graphic Description of Corpses, Blood and Gore Summary: Sabretooth's return after Alkali Lake forces Scott to fight his depression and go back into the field. It doesn't go half as well as expected. Word Count: 4347

Title of Fill: Not getting too comfortable Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50707057 Square Filled: I4: Pillows Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Angst, Aftermath of Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Medical Procedures, Blood and Injury (no details), Eye Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence Summary: After a couple of surgeries following his latest torture ordeal, Scott has Logan fussing over him at Stark Tower. His patience is quickly running thin. Word Count: 2713

Title of Fill: Still on the clock Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50598532 Square Filled: O5: Caresses and Kisses Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, Angst, Aftermath of Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Medical Procedures, Blood and Gore (no details), Eye Trauma Summary: After the most recent torture Scott has been through, everyone is trying their best to put him back together. Logan makes sure those efforts won't be in vain. Word Count: 1444

Title of Fill: Pick your battles Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50568547 Square Filled: O1: Holding Hands Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Teen Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Homophobic language Summary: Logan takes Scott out for a night of drinking to get him out of his depression funk. Things don't go as planned when Scott attracts the attention of some bigots. Word Count: 2250

Title of Fill: Spring Fling Mini-Event NSFW Card #2 Full Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55228981 Square Filled: Free Square: All Prompts Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sex Club, Mission Fic, Light BDSM Summary: A mission in a kink club to bust some sex trafficking bastards requires Logan and Scott to go undercover and Scott to speed race out of his comfort zone. Logan helps his lover understand that even for mutants, broadening your field of vision occasionally doesn't hurt. Word Count: 13,326

Title of Fill: Your true colors Author: stormxpadme Card Number: SSB-005 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56858920 Square Filled: Adopted: Pride Month Prompts: Mini Event Cards - NSFW Card Prompts: Post Pride sex at/behind a lumberjack bar | Uniform kink | Hanky code read horribly wrong (colorblindness) | Inappropriate use of handcuffs | Feeding leftover Pride cake to/off each other Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Smut, Fluff and humor, Light BDSM, hanky code, dirty talk, Misunderstandings Summary: Scott and Logan try to enjoy an exciting night at a gay bar after a Pride parade almost gone wrong, only for an embarrassing misunderstanding to almost ruin the mood. Word Count: 6651

Title of Fill: Resolution Author: Cerylid Card Number: SSB-007 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53440141 Square Filled: G3: Snuggling Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Scott Summers Needs A Hug, Logan is a Softie (X-Men), Sexual Content, telepathic trauma, Not Jean Grey Friendly, Sexual content Summary: After a bitter argument with his ex, Scott is rescued from his doubts by Logan. Word Count: 2474

Title of Fill: Fifth Times the Charm Author: Cerylid Card Number: SSB-007 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53115751 Square Filled: I4: Grand Romantic Gesture Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: General Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Scott Summers Deserves Happiness, Scott is Scott, Logan is a Softie (X-Men) Summary: Scott Summers has been trying to ask Logan to the New Year party for a couple of weeks, but it keeps going wrong. When he finally gets the chance, can he overcome he fears to find out if Logan feels the same? Word Count: 2161

Title of Fill: Long Nights Author: Cerylid Card Number: SSB-007 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53116726 Square Filled: O5: Taking Care of Each Other Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Mature Tags/Warnings/Triggers: 5+1 Things, Missions, Only One Bed, Pool & Billiards, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Scott Summers, Scott Summers Deserves Happiness, Scott Summers Needs A Hug, Protective Logan (X-Men), Grumpy Logan (X-Men), Making Out, Intimacy, Mild sexual content Summary: Five long nights that Logan found difficult… and one long night he didn't. Word Count: 3791

Title of Fill: New Beginnings Author: Cerylid Card Number: SSB-007 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53556145 Square Filled: N5: Unwavering Friendship Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: General Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Krakoa Era (X-Men), Developing Relationship, Intimacy, Making Out, Resurrection Summary: Mother Mold has been destroyed, and the whole of the new mutant nation of Krakoa has been celebrating. Everything has changed, everything is new, and maybe it’s the chance for new beginnings. Word Count: 1475

[luimnigh]

What do you think is the most common superpower for girls? I think it's telephathy because then the girls are dainty enough for the male readers

While I do agree that powers like telepathy and empathy are likely skewed towards women due to pre-existing gender biases, I don't think it would be the most common. That's a fairly rare power, with telepathy in Marvel almost the exclusive domain of X-Men characters.

Honestly? I think the most common superpower for women is probably the most common superpower point-blank: super-strength.

Just off the top of my head: All the Spider-Women, Spider-Gwen, Silk, Rogue, She-Hulk, Captain Marvel, America Chavez, every female Asgardian, White Tiger, Bobbi Morse, Misty Knight, Bloodline, Squirrel Girl, Emma Frost, Gamora, Nebula, Tigra, Jessica Jones, Laura Kinney, Wonder Woman, Power Girl, Supergirl, every single Amazon, Starfire, Artemis, All the Wonder Girls, Mary Marvel, Big Barda, every female New God... I'm absolutely missing dozens here.

[life-is-unreal]

Stranger Danger~ {Genshin x reader} Teyvat Chapter 11 - The Angel's Share

*more world building

The confusion and sheer shock when you floated down to the ground nearly made you hide in a bush. 

"The mora's worth it... The mora's worth it." You whispered under your breath. "Ok maybe not." you muttered, flinching as one of the children in the distance gaped at you. The boy's eyes were so large that you would've sworn that they would pop out of their sockets and his mouth was wide enough to fit your fist. 

You smiled awkwardly, almost sprinting away from the kids and to the Angel's share.

"A berry & mint burst please." You winced slightly as pretty much all of the mora that you've scavenged was placed on the table.

"Well aren't you a new face." The bartender, Charles laughed heartily, "Would you like a sample of dandelion wine? It's our top-seller, considering that you're new, you can have it for free." The man poured a small cup, pushing it in front of you, ignoring your frantic waving.

"Th-thanks?"

"One berry & mint burst coming right up!" He slapped down on your shoulder, "Go and talk with the fellows at the back, they're very welcoming to new faces." He placed the drink in front of you, pointing towards the little crowd near the stairs.

You weren't going to lie, but the tavern in real life was biggggg, it was like triple the size of the tavern in game.

"You there!"

"H-huh? Me?" You were going to curse yourself for all the stuttering, like why the hell were you stuttering?

"Aren't you one of the guys that chased Stormterror away a few days ago?"

"Raye! Stop scaring the poor kid." The man was elbowed hardly by one of his mates. "Kiddo, are you even old enough to drink?"

"Uhhhh, what's the drinking age?"

"Eighteen duhhh. Did you seriously order without knowing the drinking age?!"

You looked down at the drink you were given, "Yeahhh, but uh- I am over eighteen."

The man gaped. "I thought that you were like- I dunno sixteen? No offense of course."

"By the way, that drunkard's name is Raye. She's Leila, that's Nelson, and I'm Jace. There's a lot more others here and coming but I can't remember their names on the top of my head. Come on, sit with us."

Jace forcefully pushed you down to one of the chairs, sensing no ill intent you didn't bother pushing him off. "I'm Y/N. Uhhh, I'm new here."

"Yeah, we can see that." Leila rolled her eyes, throwing a hand over your shoulder. "Girlie, lemme guess, you decided to visit the Angel's share for gossip? Or are you here for intel?" She dropped the last bit to a whisper.

Raye smacked her hands off you, "Leila!"

The woman shrugged, "What? That's all what the new faces recently do!"

"That's because they're all fatui diplomats!" He hissed.

"Oh wait. You aren't one of them? My bad guys, my baaaad." She slurred, a blush creeping onto her tanned face. You weren't going to lie, Leila was hella pretty for a drunkard.

"Um, she was right for a point, the deaconess, Barbara did mention that there was gossip in here and since I wanted to get familiar with the city I just came?" You took a sip of the drink, and damn it was good. Whilst the dandelion wine was bitter with a dash of sweetness, the berry and mint burst was refreshing with a burst of fruitiness and had a nice aroma.

"Barbara? Quite surprising that she even listens to all those people that fawn over her. She has a fair share of stalkers, had she not been the sister of the Grandmaster, those dirty rascals would've probably kidnapped her."

"Leila!"

"What? That's the truth."

Raye laughed nervously, "Anyways Y/N, you wanted to listen to goss- I mean the latest news of Mondstadt right?"

Leila blinked, her misty eyes regaining focus, "Oooooh. Did you guys know? One of the knights literally cheated on their wives with another knight? Oh and the guy they cheated with was also a-"

"Leila!" All three of them scrambled to slap a hand over her mouth.

"Uh." You smiled awkwardly.

"Let's- Let's talk about other things how 'bout that." Nelson grinned.

"Uh, uh Y/N, how you settling down? And HOLY SHIT IS THAT A FUCKING SLIME?" Jace screeched, toppling over.

"Oh, I forgot about him. He's Bob, a cryo slime." 

"Yeah, no shit." Leila's were literally gleaming, "Girlie, how the fuck did you tame it- I mean him. That's legit so fucking cool."

"I didn't, he just. Uh, maybe he's a friendly slime?"

Leila raised her brows, "Yeahhhh totalllyyy."

"Um, anyways. I've found a place near the Adventurer's guild and uh, I'm an adventurer but I kinda, need another job-"

"Because they pay shit." Leila finished.

"Yeah."

"Girl, before I was a treasure hoarder I was one of those adventurer's and let me tell you. That job is like. Eugh, it seems high paying but it isn't really worth it especially when there's literally sooooo many adventurers around and inflation's happening because of that stupid dragon. Like they told me that I was too weak for half of the special commissions and quests they hand out. Since you're new you probably don't know those terms." She took a deep breath.

"You see, special commissions are like basic commissions except they pay like wayyyy more depending on the commissioner and how dangerous it is or how complicated it is. Then there's those quests that are uh, well I myself haven't received any but according to my fellow treasure hoarders they are usually super time consuming or are super dangerous. Both of them don't have to be issued by the Adventurer's guild. If you ever receive any by the guild, go to the commissioner because the Adventurer's guild takes a cut as the middle man, I mean they need to make money righttt?"

The woman took another deep gulp of her- vodka?

"Wait, you're a treasure hoarder?!" 

Leila nodded, "Jace is also one. The others are just normal citizens. Don't worry, none of us snitch, no point in it when most of the knights are pretty much useless."

You nodded in agreement, those fucking cowards that landed your ass in prison were probably the most useless of them all.

"You know, if you're reallly in need of mora, you can do some uh, not so legal stuff." Jace added on.

"Like being a treasure hoarder?"

"You can if you want. But you know, most of us treasure hoarders have another job so that the knights won't come knocking on our door going 'WhY dO yOu HaVe MoRa?' , for example, I work in one of the restaurants near the cathedral." 

Leila side eyed him, "How helpful. I'm going to be a good person and tell you actual shit."

She pulled a map out from her sleeve, "You see the map? The red spots on there are where you can make big money. I go to those places when I don't get enough mora to feed my family."

Raye leaned forward, "There's an extra spot near the hotel aye?"

Leila sneered, "Those fatui diplomats created a new place, never knew that fatui take on side jobs. Hell, the knights don't even know that any of these places exist for some reason, and even if they did, they sure did nothing."

"I went to the new place y'know. The jobs there were mainly on gathering intel and random shit. Pretty murky stuff if ya askin me. I can bring you to the red spots in the city if you're interested in making money off things like that. Dangerous? Yeah. Big bucks? Yeah. If you don't wanna risk it, I've also heard that there's a new cafe place opening up near the city gates." Jace tapped on a few red spots that were obviously a bit lighter in colour, so you assumed that the places were highlighted a long time ago.

"You think it's possible for me to get a job in that cafe and another job from the red areas?" You asked. You were it great need of accessible mora but if you didn't have a job to put on the surface, you wouldn't be able to get out the mora you've gotten in game.

Leila nodded, "I can bring you there whenever. I'm free for this entire week, just find me in the bar eh? If for some reason that I'm not here, find Jace. There's loads of scams in those red areas, if Raye or Nelson brings you there you might be stuck working for a contractor that gives nothing."

"Thanks Leila."

The woman nodded, "Leave your glass, Charles will tidy it up."

You stood up. "See ya'll soon then."

"Toodles."

"Bye."

"Nice meetin' ya and the slime."

"May Barbatos be with you."

-.-.-

You chuckled softly, Mondstadt was truly a lot more different in real life than you had expected. Mondstadt definitely would be a breeding ground for murky businesses had it not been for the vision holders and people that actually do their duties. 

"I wonder what the other nations would be like..." If Mondstadt's flaws were this obvious, it's no doubt that the other nations would have much larger potential dangers as Mondstadt is literally the starting ground for all newbie players. 

Liyue shouldn't be dangerous as long as it was in the harbour, but the outside would be unknown. Yes they had the adepti but you wouldn't exactly bet your luck on them. You shuddered at the mere thought of Sumeru and Inazuma. 

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

Teyvat Chapter 12:

https://www.tumblr.com/life-is-unreal/758119839983386624/stranger-danger-genshin-x-reader-chapter-12?source=share

[akittenwrites]

Queen of Ice and Prince of Fire [6]

Author: @akittenwrites

Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.

Type: multichapter series

Chapter: six

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader

Word count: 4488

Warnings: swearing, violence.

Part one.

Part two.

Part three.

Part four.

Part five.

Marching to war with an army of useless buffoons hadn't been the most pleasant of experiences. It had taken almost a month to do it on foot. He had proposed they just rode their dragons to avoid precisely that, yet the fact that only three were fully grown and available to fight had forced them to assemble an army of men.

It turned out that hadn't been as easy as expected. Otto Hightower's brother had no choice but to answer the King's call considering the green snake's position in court, but the Stormlands and Westerlands hadn't been as agreeable. Ten thousand men from House Baratheon had cost them a seat in the small council, and fifteen thousand from the Lannisters... that had cost them Rhaenyra's hand, promised to Lord Jason Lannister. His niece had begged her parents not to, hollering that she would ride Syrax to war instead. Daemon would've allowed it —another dragon was worth fifteen thousand Lannister imbeciles— yet Viserys and Aemma refused. The Velaryons' strength was their fleet, which they couldn't unman, but their contribution was more than enough: two dragons.

He had forced the army to march nonstop for hours, only allowing them to rest five hours at night. There were complaints, but neither Rhaenys nor Laenor had dared say anything, so he ignored them. And after the first Lannister that publicly whined about it was devoured by Caraxes, the men became incredibly quiet. They could rest when they were dead.

It was the sudden snow that had forced them to make camp and reorganize themselves. They were expecting winter, just not yet, and not so cold. It gave the men a break for a day and a half.

He flew Caraxes as the first snow fell, letting himself get lost in the cold and the misty skies. As he closed his eyes and let his dragon guide him through the clouds, he imagined Y/N's arms wrapped around his torso, holding on tight. She had never ridden Caraxes with him, despite accompanying him to the dragonpit many times to see him off and welcome him back.

It will be too obvious and I do not wish to be questioned on my virtue, she had said. I will ride with you once we're free from these shackles.

Now the opportunity was gone forever, and the shackles had become even tighter around their wrists. He placed his hand on his armored chest, where he kept her letter, just beneath the steel.

They were supposed to be together, to face adversities side by side, not fight each other. Maybe if she had been a dragon riding Targaryen instead of a wolf they could've run off together. Why did he even harbor feelings for a woman so different from him? There was not a single drop of blood of Old Valyria in her, yet her aura was just as magical. Whenever their fingers touched, and their eyes connected, he felt it deep inside him. A bond similar to the one he had with Caraxes, one that didn't need words for understanding, and was just as deep. Y/N was part of him and his life just as his own dragon was, forever. He dared say she was even more important. If Caraxes was one of his limbs, Y/N was his beating heart.

It had taken them nine more days walking under the storm to reach Winterfell. As he mounted Caraxes, ready to fly towards the castle, he noticed his hands shaking. He cursed under his breath, forcefully grabbed the reins, and disappeared into the sky.

What was wrong with him? He had been tasked to lead the army with Caraxes, and his hands were shaking? What was he, a fucking idiot knight that had never even jousted before? With his jaw clenched, he gained speed as he flew towards Winterfell. Caraxes cried out, feeling his anger, and the castle finally became visible.

He barely had a second to find Y/N's position —a white spot with dark hair on the battlements— when large bolts were fired in his direction. He evaded them effortlessly, knowing they couldn't get too close without becoming an easier target. Y/N had delivered what she had promised.

"Do not fly toward the castle yet!" he warned Rhaenys, flying next to her. "They have bloody scorpions."

She nodded and he flew away, four more bolts meant for Caraxes disappearing into the sky. He looked down, seeing their army finally meeting the one awaiting them at Winterfell, but something was wrong. He descended, focusing his purple eyes on their men, and noticed they were bloody and disordered, and some of them even tried to run away.

The anger brewing inside him grew into sheer fury. Frowning, he flew even lower, inspecting the men under his command as Caraxes dodged the bolts sent his way. This was the King's army? A bunch of cowards and useless boys, clashing against the Stark army on the front lines and being cut down as if they were nothing? Madness took over him as he uttered his command.

"Dracarys."

He didn't even bother to look at the battlements anymore, focusing solely on the front lines. He left a trail of fire as he burned both sides to death, wreaking havoc as the men screamed and tried to move backward, with nowhere to go. No, they would burn. He didn't care for cowards that couldn't even lift their swords properly against their enemy. And he definitely didn't care for Y/N's men, no matter how tough they were.

Dragons would win this battle.

The chaos he caused on the frontlines spread to the rest of the armies, but another rain of bolts forced Caraxes to fly higher and stop his attack. He focused back on the battle, noticing Seasmoke slowly flying away. They had managed to hurt him.

It was only then he realized Rhaenys was flying straight toward the battlements, toward Y/N. It looked like it was happening in slow motion; the Red Queen majestically burning everything in her path and directing her fury to the woman in command. He was unaware he had stopped breathing until his lungs begged him for fresh air. And then everything was happening at the speed of light again. Daemon wasn't thinking anymore, he was acting. He whispered a few words to Caraxes, determined to reach Meleys before it burned Y/N to death. Another round of bolts forced him to dodge and stay away once again.

He placed his hand on his armored chest, feeling the folded letter under it, as he watched what was about to happen.

He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.

A sudden storm with rocks made of ice and cold rain fell upon them. Caraxes screeched in shock and pain, and Daemon placed his hand above his head to avoid getting hit by the stones, cursing himself for not bringing his helmet. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the battlements, searching for Y/N behind the rain and the storm. A flash of lightning illuminated her crown and he saw her standing there again.

She was alive.

He whispered a few words of comfort to Caraxes as he placed a hand on the scales of his neck, calming him down. He felt calm again as well.

But the battle was not over.

He would burn the rest of her army and force her to surrender.

"Dracarys!"

Letting the storm fall on him and his dragon, knowing he could weather it, he attacked again. This time his eyes searched for Y/N's, though.

And they finally met.

She looked at him briefly before turning around and leaving, and he didn't even know how, but he knew what she meant.

Agreeing, he ordered Caraxes to fly west, and as they left the battlefield the storm suddenly stopped and the skies were just grey. The grass was wet, but it wasn't raining anymore.

He saw her white figure a second before Caraxes landed before her, and he dismounted, walking to meet her again.

She stood before him dressed in a long white fur coat, with her hands holding each other, his ruby ring the only color to disrupt the white and grey vision before him. There was something different about her, Caraxes could feel it and he could too. Something magical. She held herself regally, her grey eyes bright yet emotionless as she watched him approach. His own eyes widened as he saw her crown shined with blue ice. Her direwolf stood next to her, as tall as she was.

She looked otherwordly. The smell of winter roses permeated the air. He stood there, admiring the sight before him. She had always been beautiful, yet she had never looked as divine as she did right then.

She truly looked like a Queen. A Queen of beauty and ice.

A Queen he would've gladly bent the knee to, had the circumstances been different.

"Daemon," she greeted, snapping him out of his trance.

"Y/N," he answered, studying her face. She looked as young as always. "Nice crown. How did you get it? Blood magic?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"I do not meddle with such things. You know it."

"You managed to injure a dragon and survive a deadly attack from another one. I am not sure I know anything about you anymore."

She smiled, lovingly but not without pride.

"I am Queen in the North now. Ice runs through my veins. But there is nothing supernatural about war strategy and a few well-made scorpions. I did warn you."

"What about the storm?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow. "You should call yourself Queen of Ice. It appears that is what you are now."

She remained impassive.

"The Gods have granted me the power to win this battle, that is all," she explained, her hand reaching for her crown and taking it off. The ice melted immediately. "Any more questions?"

"Yes, actually. What is the plan now? Take down Meleys? Try to kill me?" he walked a few steps closer to her, his voice coming out as a whisper. "Because right now you're at a disadvantage, love."

Her stare remained cold as he approached her, not moving an inch.

"Take down Meleys and take you as a hostage to force the crown to back down," she stated. "We will let you go when spring comes."

He laughed in disbelief. Had Y/N forgotten who she was talking to? Her crown made of ice didn't change the fact he was still a dragon, and a proud one.

"I would rather be killed by your cunt lords than be your hostage."

Y/N smiled slightly.

"I figured as much. What is your plan then, Daemon?"

"I'm still undecided," he said simply. "I planned to go back, burn every single person still alive in Winterfell, and come get you."

"And take me where?"

He shrugged.

"Where do you want to go?"

Sadness passed briefly through her eyes before she composed herself again. Why was she trying so hard to play her role in front of him? He knew her as she was.

Yet he understood, partly. He had been sent to kill her. She had her own duties as well.

"You'll have to kill me to get back on that dragon, Daemon," she whispered. "I am not forcing you, I am asking you. Pretend to be our hostage. Live this winter by my side. You'll have chambers next to mine. I'll warm your bed at night."

He shook his head, wondering what had gotten into her. They both knew how this encounter had to end, and they were both trying to take a different path. Yet it seemed they couldn't even agree on that.

"And yet I'd still be a prisoner, away from Caraxes, away from everything I know."

"By my side," she insisted.

He laughed again, but it was far from funny. A Targaryen prince forced to spend months, or even years, inside a dark castle, unable to ride his own dragon, unable to feel the wind on his face as he flew above the clouds. History books would not be kind to him.

"My offer is to run away together, as equals," he said. "Yours is I become your prisoner. I think you know the answer, Y/N."

"Then there is no use in further negotiations."

There was a brief silence between them as they looked at each other.

Her grey eyes were sad but determined. She knew it was her duty as Queen to end the bloodshed.

And it was his as Prince, as the King's appointed commander, to end it as well. Even if he loved her.

His gaze hardened as he ordered his dragon to leave. There was no point in Caraxes being there to watch. Even if he commanded him to burn her to death, he wouldn't. The bond they shared was so strong Caraxes could do what Daemon needed without the need for verbal commands, yet that also meant he wouldn't obey his words if they weren't true to his heart.

"Caraxes, qrīdrughāks," he said. Then he looked at the woman in front of him. "No beasts. Just you and me."

Y/N nodded, looking at her wolf.

"Storm, go away."

Both their companions hesitated for a few seconds, and then Caraxes flew and Storm ran, both getting lost in less than a minute.

Daemon unsheathed Dark Sister as Y/N did the same with Ice, letting her crown fall to the ground. He cut at her immediately and the sound of swords clashing was heard as she met him halfway, their blades forced against each other as their eyes met.

"Are you sure you can fight with that sword?" he questioned. "It seems ridiculously large."

"It is also ridiculously light," she countered, getting out of the way and slashing at him again from his left.

She landed blow after blow at him, and he blocked all of them with ease. He knew how she fought. He sometimes joined her in the courtyard when she trained. She was by no means bad at it, but she wasn't as good as he was. And she was slowly starting to realize it as he made no attempts to attack and merely defended himself, not breaking a sweat.

Y/N halted her attack then, narrowing her eyes at him, and reached for her collar to unfasten her coat. It fell to the ground, leaving her dressed in a simple grey dress and a breastplate. She didn't stop looking at him as she got out of her armor with great difficulty, sticking her sword in the ground to do so. He lifted a brow as he looked at her, admiring her beauty, before deciding to follow her example. His armor was light, Valyrian steel, but if she was going to fight unprotected, so was he.

He made sure her letter was still kept in the inside pocket of his shirt before picking up his sword again.

She did the same, grabbing the skirts of her dress and bunching it up before slashing at it with her sword, letting parts of it fall to the ground. She ruined it, leaving the skirt cut unevenly and barely reaching her knees, allowing her to move more freely and allowing him to admire her boots. He wished she would take those off too, so he could take a look at her legs.

Finally, she let her scabbard fall to the ground with the rest of her clothes.

And then she came at him again, attempting to cut at him, and he stopped her. This time, though, he fought back. They went back and forth for a few minutes, as Y/N's skills improved drastically without the unnecessary baggage, and they were almost matched.

Almost.

After forcing her to walk back a few steps as he used all his force to cut at her, he finally managed to disarm her as her sword flew backward and fell to the ground. He pointed his own sword at the center of her chest and she lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender.

She was defeated.

He only had to end it now.

But then she raised an eyebrow at him with mischief and dipped to the ground, doing a barrel roll in his direction that ended with her clutching his legs with both arms, throwing him off balance.

Even then, he managed not to fall, using his sword as a cane to stay upright as his legs were forced together.

He hadn't forgotten Y/N's love of hand-to-hand combat, he just didn't expect it. He remembered she had shown him some moves once, explaining that since she, as a lady, almost never carried a sword, had to be a better fighter without blades. He had never taken it seriously. If your enemy has a sword and you have nothing, you are as good as dead, he had told her.

The problem was she was fucking good at it.

"Are you seriously going to fight me like this?" he asked, feeling her grip tightening.

She smirked at him from the ground, her arms refusing to let go of his legs.

"There is no such thing as a fair fight, Daemon," she said. "Scared you'll lose?"

He attempted to point his sword at her again, but the second he lifted it from the ground she moved like a gazelle, rising to elbow him in the gut with her right arm and catch his wrist with her left. As he gasped at the unexpected blow, she forcefully rotated his wrist as far as it would go. They exchanged looks as he refused to let go of his sword and grasped her hair with his left hand, pulling on it to try and bring her down. She clenched her jaw as she looked at him, clutching his wrist even harder and sinking her nails into his skin until she drew blood.

"What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?" he hissed, trying to ignore the pain as blood started running down his arm.

Y/N didn't answer. She used her free arm to punch him square across the jaw and twisted his wrist even more until his hand couldn't hold his sword anymore. Dark Sister fell to the ground. Now both of them were disarmed. He turned to look at her again with fire in his eyes, refusing to let go of his grip on her hair. She might've managed to disarm him, but she couldn't expect to win against his brute force. He could knock her out with a punch if he wanted to.

"Winning," she said, at last. She finally allowed herself to fall, following the pull of her hair, and landed on her knees. He remained standing with her dark locks still held tightly in his hand.

"You're fucking mad," he whispered, watching as she pulled a dagger from inside her boot. He walked a step backward to avoid getting stabbed, pulling on her hair again even harder than before, forcing her to look up at him.

"And you fucking love me for it," she responded, raising the dagger to her head and slashing at her hair, freeing herself with one clean cut.

He looked at her as she stood up and then at his fist that still held strands of her long dark hair. He opened his hand, letting it fall with a soft smile on his face.

She was fucking right. He loved her, his wild wolf. And he loved her even more when she got her hands dirty.

She ran at him with the dagger raised and he stopped it midway through, catching her arm just before the blade could stab his neck. She attempted to punch him with her other hand, but he caught that one too. Their eyes connected once again, grey against purple, both determined to win this fight.

Her hair was now shoulder-length, still wet from the earlier rain, and he could see the sweat running down her forehead. Her chest rose and fell with her labored breathing. And she looked at him with her brows furrowed, completely focused on defeating him. On killing him.

He felt himself getting aroused as they gazed at each other. She was always stunning when she was polished and ladylike, but she was fucking luscious when she was out for blood.

He would have let her kill him if it meant she would fuck him one last time.

It was a game of push and pull, he didn't let her go, and she changed strategies between trying to pull away and trying to hurt him.

"You're right," he admitted, his eyes wandering down her body. "I love you for it."

She seemed taken aback for just a second, which he used to twist her arm just as she had done to him previously, forcing her to let go of the dagger that fell to the ground. His grip was so tight he was sure he would leave bruises, not unlike the ones he had left on her hips and thighs once, after nights of incredible passion.

"You have me," she said, at last. Her arms let up as she leaned forward, her face getting closer to his. She raised a brow, challenging him. "Take me, then."

His eyes moved to her lips, soft and wet, waiting for him. He leaned down, kissing her with the passion of a man that knew this was the last time he would kiss the woman he loved. She kissed him back fervently, and for a moment it felt like nothing else existed in the world but the two of them, loving each other until the end of time.

That illusion was shattered as soon as they parted.

She kicked him in the groin with the full strength of her leg, forcing him to let go of her as she jumped him, wrapping herself around him and using her entire body weight to make him fall backward, falling on top of him.

He groaned, cursing under his breath, and closed his eyes briefly as the pain of the fall slowly faded away. The feeling of a cold blade against his neck made him open them again.

Y/N sat on top of him, with her legs around his torso, as she held the dagger to his throat. Her eyes were filled with sorrow, and he swallowed, waiting for her to do her duty.

Yet she took too long, and that was enough for him to flip them over, making her lose her dagger again as they exchanged positions. He took the blade in his hands and traced a pattern down her neck with it.

"You shouldn't have hesitated," he whispered, looking into her eyes. It pained him he had to take the life out of them. The bright, grey eyes he loved so much. "Never hesitate."

"Then why do you?" she asked, sprawled underneath him, defeated.

He didn't have a chance to answer as the distant sound of horse hooves approaching distracted him. They both looked as three men on horses made their way toward them, dressed in the simple silver armor of the northerners.

"Harm her, and I will run you over with my horse until you're dead!" shouted the old, white-haired man that reached them first.

Daemon lifted his hands in the air, signaling he meant no harm, and let the dagger fall to the ground once again. Y/N moved under him, sitting up.

"Lord Karstark," she greeted. "What is going on?"

"The battle is won, Your Grace," he said, dismounting. He drew his sword at Daemon, who looked around only to find Dark Sister completely out of reach. And he had no idea where Caraxes was.

Y/N punched his leg, mouthing at him to get up. He did, offering her his hand so she could do the same. There was no point in continuing the fight now, he had no way of winning.

He was relieved.

"How many men did we lose?" she asked after Daemon helped her up, making her way toward her men.

He noticed the old man's demeanor turned even more serious then.

"Almost all of them, my Queen," he answered.

He couldn't see Y/N's expression from behind her, but he could guess she was harboring immense guilt. Thousands of her men had died in a useless quest.

"What of Rhaenys?" Daemon asked, stepping forward. "The other dragon. What happened to it?"

The Karstark man and Y/N exchanged a look as she nodded at him almost imperceptibly, and he proceeded to answer.

"An archer managed to wound her and she flew away."

"Wound her?" he questioned. "How badly?"

Silence.

"Will Princess Rhaenys survive, Lord Karstark?" Y/N asked. "Her death means we should expect an attack from both Houses Targaryen and Velaryon."

"It was an arrow to her neck," the old man responded. "She was wounded enough that her dragon carried her away. I can't tell if she will survive or not."

"You can expect an attack from both Houses just for wounding her, anyway," Daemon interjected.

Y/N turned to look at him with empty eyes.

"Then there is no point in keeping you alive, is there?" she asked. She looked at her men then, who had also dismounted their horses. "Shackle him. I shall execute him at sunrise, in Winterfell."

He admired her display of strength and leadership; no wonder they had named her their Queen. Yet he wondered if she was speaking the truth and was finally ready to do her duty, or if she would try to find a way around it again.

He felt the heavy iron of one of the shackles tightening around his right wrist as her two guards surrounded him.

"Tighter," she instructed. "And behind his back. Do not underestimate him."

"I can't ride a horse to Winterfell with my hands behind my back, my Queen," he mocked with a bow of his head.

"That won't be a problem," she said simply. "Winterfell is not far. We will walk."

The walk lasted less than an hour, in complete silence, with Y/N and Karstark leading. The literal shackles were more uncomfortable than the metaphorical ones Y/N kept bringing up.

When they finally arrived, the battlefield was barely visible because of the fog and the smoke. Yet there was something that made Y/N stop in her tracks, and everybody else did as well. Daemon walked until he reached her side, noticing her eyes were fixed on the scene in front of her. What was she looking at?

And then he saw it.

Men, dead men, rising to their feet and walking around. Headless men, men without arms, men burned to a crisp. They walked.

"What is happening?" Y/N whispered, so low he could barely hear it.

"This is..." Karstark started to speak and shut up, not knowing how to continue.

Daemon walked one step forward, his purple eyes unable to look away.

"Y/N..." he said. "What did you do?"

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

Next chapter.

If you like my writing, make sure to check out my masterlist and my page, where you can support me or read updates on what I'm working on and leave your comments.

Have a nice day!

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Tagging: @batprincess1013 @lollaa-puff @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mamamooqa @queenmendes @chevelledahuman @thanyatargaryen @zgzgzh @boofy1998 @lovelokiqueen @kmhappybunny240 @dudde-44 @dankfarrikdin @gothicgay14 @ilovemarauders @ilovemydinoboi @asgardiandeadpoetsociety @how2besalty @kaitieskidmore1 @thhriller @omgsuperstarg @missyviolet123 @booksnink13

TAG LIST CLOSED. If you asked to be tagged and you are not here, it's because tumblr wouldn't let me tag you. Sorry. I'll use the tag #queenoficeprinceoffire so you can follow anyway.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

@thealmightyemprex @themousefromfantasyland @strawbebehmod @professorlehnsherr-almashy @fionapplespiano @knivxsanddespair @stormandforge

I think I found a timeline where we can imagine Mutants living and thriving in Webtoon comics style: is inspired by two individual What Ifs comics that can be considered set in the same universe: What IF 23 (1980): May Parker Was Bitten by the Radioactive Spider? and What IF 27 (1991): The Submariner Joined the Fantastic Four?

I call it The Fantastic Family timeline!

Basically, a lot more of sororority between super humans and mutants would start with Namor and Sue's marriage and birth of their son, Leonard McKenzie II, in this timeline: Namor is open and proud about being not only an Atlantean, but a Mutant as well.

While in the main 616 continuity, Reed and Sue were obsessed with being normal and respectable humans and were far from accepting of the possibility that their son Franklin Richard might be a mutant and would want to bond with fellow mutants, the Sue that married Namor of this timeline would learn to embrace her mutant child, be involved in mutant politics along her husband and son, and be open about Leonard wanting to find more about other mutants, as well as his Atlantean cultural heritage, when he becomes a teen, acting less posessive and over protective than she does in the 616 timeline.

Being the royalty of Atlantis, whose subjects are very loyal to them, Namor and young Leonard bring fellow Submariners to become important allies of mutantkind, turning the fight against human prejudice something more even.

May Parker, alive husband Ben Parker (as the family driver), her nephew Peter, his wife Mary Jane and their little daughter Annie May Parker become the Spider Family, that ocasionally teams up with the Fantastic Five while also mainly dealing with Street Level Crime alongside heroes like Daredevil, Luke Cage, Misty Knight, Colleen Wing and Jessica Jones.

On the cosmic scale, you would have the Defenders formed by Aarkus (Golden Age the Vision), The Hulk, his wife Jarella, She-Hulk, Betty Ross as Red Harpy, Doc Samson, Dr. Stephen Strange and the Silver Surfer.

And lead by Magneto, the X-Men would relocate their school to Alaska and get dual Canadian/US American Citizenship, alternating some groups to go in field missions while other groups stay to teach and protect the younger mutants.

Wolverine would still be an Alpha Flight member, that acts as a liaison between the Canadian Goverment and the X-Men

P.S: The Avengers don't need to exist

[inkameswetrust]

Meet Me At The Altar (A Kames Oneshot)

Pairing: James Diamond x Kendall Diamond

Characters: James Diamond, Kendall Diamond, Logan Hortense Mitchell, Carlos Garcia, Jennifer Knight, Katie Knight, (The Mention Of) Brooke Diamond

Content Warnings: Fluff/Angst, BL, SFW, Adult Romance, Implied/Suggested Homophobia, Gay Marriage

Word Count: 4,408

Timeline: TWS Future

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Kendall looked at himself in the arched full-length mirror, adjusting his Aegean blue tuxedo in his reflection. Something about his appearance didn't feel right. He felt incomplete, as though a puzzle piece had been scattered somewhere out of sight. Kendall focused on the folds and creases enveloping his joints until he'd forgotten about the loose bow tie atop the loveseat behind him. He grimaced at his reflection, desperately searching for something on his person to fix or adjust.

"Honey, are you all right in there?" Jennifer asked, accompanying her query with a gentle knock.

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine."

"Can I come in?" Jennifer pleaded. "You've been in there for quite some time."

Kendall glances at the dressing room door through his peripherals, his fingers still tracing the lapels of his suit jacket in search of an error to correct. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, contemplating whether or not to grant his mother entry. It'd been stressful enough fixating on his appearance for as long as he had and holding up the ceremony. Though, Kendall had nothing to lose at this point.

"Sure," Kendall sighed.

The door slowly creaked open with Jennifer's gentle shove. She was hesitant to see how Kendall looked but couldn't help gushing as her eyes betrayed her. Jennifer was misty-eyed as she took in the sight of her beloved son having grown up. She placed her open palm just below her collarbone, her breath balling up in the back of her throat like mildew in a gutter.

"Sweetheart..." Jennifer trembled, gazing at Kendall with wide, tear-stricken eyes.

"Mom, are you all right?" Kendall muttered, awkwardly lifting his shoulders. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Jennifer took a moment to compose herself, clearing her throat and bringing her fingertip to the corners of her eyes to wipe any tears that dared to betray her conscience. She combed her hair out of her face, a voluminous mixture of greys and reds draping her cheekbones.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me," Jennifer assured, sniffling through her words. "Is it stuffy in here? It feels a little stuffy."

Kendall's chest fell with a heavy sigh as his gaze softened with a more empathetic look to round out his eyes. "C'mere," he breathed as he strode toward his mother with open arms. Kendall curved his upper spine to lean his head on Jennifer's shoulder while his forearms pressed into her back for the beginnings of a tight embrace. Jennifer was initially reluctant but was powerless to protest her son's gesture. With hands twice as shaky as her breath, Jennifer clung to Kendall's shoulders and hugged him back.

"Honey, I'm fine. Really," Jennifer mumbled with false confidence.

"No offense, Mom, but you are a terrible liar," Kendall chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood.

Jennifer pulled back with a sour expression and a gentle smack from the back of her hand awaiting Kendall's shoulder. "Hey!" she cried, withdrawing herself completely.

"I'm just saying. I know I got it from somewhere," Kendall chuckled, "But seriously, are you okay?"

Before Jennifer could respond, the dressing room door swiftly opened halfway through the frame. She and Kendall turned their heads to face their unexpected visitor. Katie poked her head through the door, saying, "Hey, Mom, how much longer is—?"

"Katie, go back to the aisle!!" Jennifer barked, her muscles tense and her face wide-eyed.

"Alright, jeez. But don't you think I'm a little old for this?" Katie groaned, gesturing at the basket of flower petals in her hand.

"Katie. Now."

"Alright, I'm going!"

Before Katie shuts the door, her gaze falls upon Kendall. She looks him up and down, taking in the sight of his appearance entirely. From an outside perspective, her gaze looks judgmental, but truthfully, she's quite impressed.

"Looking good, big brother," Katie remarked on her way out.

Kendall nodded silently with an awkward grin. Jennifer composed herself at the sound of the door shutting behind her. She inhaled with downward-facing eyes and said, "I'm okay."

"Alright then," Kendall replied, silencing his disbelief. "I guess it's about time we head out."

As prepared as Jennifer was to begin the ceremony, she noticed something was missing. She quickly scanned Kendall's person for any hint of incompletion until she saw how barren his collar was without a tie.

"Kendall, where's your tie?"

"I knew I was forgetting something..."

While Kendall awkwardly plunged his fists into his pockets, Jennifer frantically searched the room for his tie. She saw it limp atop the loveseat, untied and unraveled. Jennifer snatched it from the loveseat cushion and hurriedly hooked it around Kendall's collar. Her rapid movements surprised Kendall and caused him to fidget and wriggle before her.

"Mom, stop! I can do this myself!" Kendall protested.

"If you could tie your own tie, we wouldn't be thirty minutes behind schedule," Jennifer refuted as she pulled the ends through one final loop and tightened the bow tie indefinitely. "Now, let's get out there."

As Jennifer reaches for the door, Kendall's feet stay planted before the full-length mirror as he continues studying himself. Dissatisfied and uncertain, he cries, "Mom, wait!" Jennifer turns her head and stares at Kendall blankly.

"I still feel like something's missing..." Kendall confesses, twisting and turning in his reflection.

Jennifer's brows sank as she realized the source behind Kendall's unease. He was indecisive and restless—two of many telltale signs of his nervousness. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorpost, asking, "Kendall, is it possible you're stalling for time?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Kendall scoffs as he rolls his eyes. "Why on Earth would I do that?"

"Because you're nervous."

Kendall tensed up at Jennifer's response, awkwardly stammering as he desperately tried to string together a confident rebuttal. He tucked his head between his rising shoulders, his voice lifted uncomfortably, and a crooked grin swept over his face as Kendall said, "Pshh! What? No, I'm not nervous. I'm just... dehydrated?"

"Who's the terrible liar now?" Jennifer teased, cocking her brow with a victorious smirk.

"Okay, fine!" Kendall barked defeatedly.

Jennifer strode back into the room and studied Kendall's form to aid him in his pursuit. Even if Kendall was intentionally putting off the ceremony, the least Jennifer could do was play along to calm his nerves. She perked up at the spark of a realization. Kendall had not yet taken his wedding bouquet.

"I think I might know what you're missing," Jennifer remarks as she takes Kendall's bouquet from the table in the corner. She sighed, noticing how a few petals had wilted and fallen off from lack of space, air, or sunlight. You'd think Kendall would know better than to keep a bouquet of fresh lilacs limp on a table.

"Oh, honestly, Kendall!" Jennifer cried, fluffing out the ends of the bouquet in hopes the stems hadn't bent. "With how you keep these flowers, they're set to wilt before you even say your vows!"

"Mom!"

"Right, sorry!"

Jennifer's eyes bounced back and forth between Kendall and his bouquet. She picked a budding flower from the bunch and fastened it into Kendall's breast pocket. After bringing her thumb and index finger to her chin, she said, "I think this is it. What do you think?"

Kendall spun around to face the mirror, his eyes drifting down his suit jacket as his face expressed newfound satisfaction. The lilac in his breast pocket complimented the colors of his suit and tied his whole look together.

"I think it's just right," Kendall breathed confidently, his smile beaming in his reflection.

"Great!" Jennifer replied hurriedly. "Let's get going!"

Kendall rolled his eyes and fled the dressing room with his lilac bouquet in one hand and Jennifer's hand in the other. They rushed to the beginning of the aisle, where Katie waited patiently for them. She had an uncertain look on her face, the left corner of her lips curving downward in a crooked frown.

"Hey, Kendall..." Katie croaked awkwardly.

Kendall's eyes narrowed in concern. Katie's tone of voice alerted him of incoming ill tidings. He nervously gripped the base of his bouquet while attempting to wear a brave face.

"What happened?" Kendall queried as he looked forward and found that his husband-to-be was not waiting for him at the altar. "Where is James?"

"Well..."

The sound of trampling feet alerts Kendall from behind. As the sound draws nearer, a familiar, panting voice calls out for him. He turns back and sees Logan racing toward him.

"Kendall!" Logan cries. "You've gotta come quick! I think something's wrong with James!"

Struggling to make a move, Kendall awkwardly hands his bouquet to Jennifer and sprints for the exit. He leaves his loved ones waiting in suspense and impatience as he hurries away with Logan following closely behind him. His feet drum against the floor with each step, the hallways tunneling behind him as he charges through the double doors.

"Don't worry, man. It's gonna be okay!" Carlos assured weakly, rubbing circles on the groom's back in his fruitless efforts to console him.

"What happened to him?" Kendall asked, his voice demanding in its query and his fists clenching in defense.

"I don't know," Logan replied. "He was on the phone with someone and just started freaking out."

James pulled away from Carlos, his spine curved as he hunched over the hand that frustratingly crammed his cell phone. Not wanting to give up, Carlos outstretched his hand again. He took caution in approaching James as he was evidently uneasy. It killed Carlos to see his best bud crumbling under so much pressure.

"We can still figure something out. It'll be fine!" Carlos continued, the corners in his face sharpening from wariness.

"No, you don't get it!" James snapped as he slapped Carlos' hand away. "There's nothing to figure out!"

Heartbroken and stunned, Carlos steps back as he massages the sting in his hand. Though it couldn't possibly measure up to the stab wound James' sharp words and barking voice left in the deepest crevice of Carlos' heart.

"Woah, take it easy!" Kendall cried as he rushed to James' side. James was immediately pulled from his fraught haze. Kendall took him by the shoulders, ensuring he'd stay put and compose himself. Carlos and Logan stood awkwardly behind them, exchanging worried glances and concerned murmurs.

"What happened? Tell me what's going on." Kendall began, his voice as stern as his grip was firm.

James shook in Kendall's grasp. His body trembled with an uneasy rhythm of buzzing vibrations. He hyperventilated under Kendall's gaze, his chest tightening with each staggered breath. Realizing he was only worsening James' distress, Kendall loosened his grip and softened his voice.

"What happened, James?" Kendall voiced as he slinked his hands down his groom's forearms.

"She's... not coming."

"Who's not coming?"

The words dangled on the tip of James' tongue. They stole his voice and plagued his mind like a curse. His eyes continuously darted back and forth between Kendall and the pair of concerned bystanders they knew as their best friends. His words poisoned him, robbing him of his breath and coherence. James swallowed hard and pinched his eyes shut, blurting out, "M-My mom! My mom, okay?! She's not coming! There, I said it!"

A silent gasp slipped past Kendall's lips as he relinquished his grasp on James. He looked back at his friends with a stoic, hardened gaze, saying, "Could you two give us a moment?"

After sharing pensive glances, they nodded in unison at Kendall and turned back to reenter the wedding venue. They continued waiting for the almost newlyweds among the rest of the guests. Kendall's focus returned to James. His gaze softened at the sight of his groom's eyes rounding in the beginnings of a sob. They were glassy with hot tears of disappointment and betrayal. The contours of James' face deepened as he began to silently weep.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't do this," James croaked. "Not without her."

"What?!" Kendall choked, his jaw sinking and eyes snapping open. "What does that mean, James?"

"My mom... she told me she loved me," James began, turning away to avoid Kendall's gaze. "But she couldn't stand to watch me throw away my life like this."

James rubbed his palm against his eyes, hastily wiping his tears as he turned his back on Kendall. He shook his head with a heavy sigh that rattled through his lungs like loose change in a jar. His words tore at Kendall's heart, tearing it apart like fabric. Kendall watched on the precipice of heartbreak as James curled his fingers in defense.

"I've spent my whole life trying to please her, Kendall. I used to be good enough for her," James continued. "Which is why I thought what was good enough for me was good enough for her, too. I thought she'd finally come around."

James sniffled as he turned back to face Kendall. His eyes reddened from a teary aftermath that left his face dewy and sullen. He swallowed the anguish drying up his throat and manifesting in word vomit by saying, "I gave everything I got to make her happy... and it was all a big waste of time."

"And I gave everything I got not to lose you," Kendall refuted, bringing his palms to the space on his chest just below his collarbone. "But that wasn't a waste of time, was it?"

"No, of course not."

"Then why do you keep letting your mom control you the way she does?" Kendall queried. "The James Diamond I know would never let anyone stand in the way of what makes him happy, not even her."

Kendall strode toward James, his hands gently roaming over the lapels of his smokey violet tuxedo. Their eyes met in a mutually teary gaze. Kendall's eyes traveled down the line of buttons on James' milky white collared shirt, a pensive trail of green swimming down a waterfall of clothing.

"If that were the case, we wouldn't be here today," Kendall added, chuckling through the shakiness in his voice. "You wouldn't have snuck through my bedroom window so often."

James' eyes followed every movement of Kendall's hands. They grounded him somehow, giving him something else to feel and focus on. His chest rose and fell with lighter, slower breaths, allowing Kendall's hands to sail across calmer waters. Their eyes rose to greet each other in a bittersweet gaze of understanding. Kendall could sense James' inner turmoil diminishing, but it had still yet to cease its reign of anguish.

"Why are you here?" James whispered hesitantly, placing his hand atop Kendall's so its impression on his chest would linger.

"What do you mean?"

"Isn't it bad luck to see you before the wedding or something?" James replied with a forced chuckle.

"James, that only applies to brides, and last I checked, I'm not a woman."

"Yeah, but you're not the one who proposed."

"Are you calling me a woman?"

"Not necessarily..."

James and Kendall shared kindred smiles and giggles with one another. Gone were their distressed tears, frowning faces, and hearts teetering on heartbreak. Their gazes had mutually softened, and their previously tear-soaked skin was nearly dry.

"Seriously, though," James began. "Why are you here?"

"You think I wouldn't show up when you needed me?"

"Well, I'm a mess right now," James continued. "You don't think I'm ever too much?"

Kendall stopped to ponder the groom's query. He hummed pensively, his lips curving and his voice vibrating to the tune of his exhale. Kendall thought about the times when their roles were reversed. There were times during their adolescence when James had been Kendall's shoulder to cry on when he'd broken down and faced his most difficult struggles. Why would this be any different?

"Have you ever thought I was too much?" Kendall responded. "I wasn't always the best boyfriend growing up. I was a jerk sometimes. I lied sometimes. I drove you crazy a lot of the time. Sometimes, I even drove you away."

Kendall raised his vacant hand to James' cheek, granting his groom the opportunity to lean into his touch as he gently stroked his face. Though no words had been spoken in that brief moment, it was evident that both men had silently recalled their teenage years and the struggles that came with them.

"You still showed up. You came back every time," Kendall remarked painstakingly. "So, was I ever too much?"

"Of course not."

Though Kendall was relieved to hear James' response, he couldn't help noticing a lingering hint of apprehension. "Then why do you look like you still don't understand?" he asked, ceasing his gentle strokes.

"Because I don't. Why are you still here?"

"Let me ask you this," Kendall began. "Do you wanna marry me?"

"Absolutely."

"Then why don't you meet me at the altar and find out?" Kendall suggested with a cock of his head and the turn of a smirk. "Can you do that for me?"

A small part of James wanted to wait for his mother in case she'd magically show up at the last minute and rescind her earlier disapproval. However, he recognized that'd be a fruitless endeavor and would only lead to additional heartbreak. James thought about what Kendall said about continuing to entertain his mother's emotional dictatorship over him. He'd suffered under her parental tyranny for so long that he'd lost sight of his happiness. But it was time to redirect his focus and start advocating for himself, even if that meant leaving his mother behind.

"Yeah, I can do that," James breathed.

"Good," Kendall whispered, pulling James in for a long overdue hug. He clung to James' upper torso and slowly swayed back and forth to simulate cradling motions. His embrace was grounding, relaxing, and emotionally stimulating. James surrendered to Kendall, clutching his back as he buried his face in his husband-to-be's shoulder. He felt he could finally breathe once again after struggling to tread water in the depths of his inner turmoil for so long.

After giving James' torso a gentle squeeze, Kendall pulled away and let his hands drift down the length of James' arms until they reached his fingers. "C'mon, let's get back in there," he said, intertwining their fingers and leading James back into the venue.

The two soon-to-be-married men hurried back to the beginning of the aisle, where Jennifer and Katie happily awaited their return. Jennifer hurriedly gestured for Katie to begin spreading the flower petals. Katie obliged, beginning her stroll down the aisle as she scattered a mixture of cornflower and lavender petals with each step.

"Change of plans, Mom," Kendall warned as he retrieved his bouquet of lilacs and handed it to James. "You'll be walking James down the aisle instead."

"I will?" Jennifer uttered.

"She will?" James added.

"Just trust me on this," Kendall implored.

James and Jennifer exchanged glances, their brows rising as they contemplated this minor yet unexpected change. "Is that okay with you, James?" she asked, not wanting to anticipate anything.

James turned to Kendall and was met with a confident, assured gaze. The blonde wore a beautifully dimpled smile that put James' worries to rest, assuring him that he was certain about making this gesture. He nodded at James, granting him permission to walk down the aisle in his stead.

"Yeah, I'm fine with that," James replied.

Kendall fled the aisle with two hearty thumbs-ups and stood at the altar in James' place, where Logan, Carlos, and the officiant awaited his presence. Jennifer took James by the arm and looked up at him, saying, "Are you ready?"

James nervously clutched Kendall's bouquet, clinging to it like a lifeline. He kept his eyes forward as he replied, saying, "Ready as I'll ever be."

The two began their silent stroll down the aisle. Kendall stood proudly at the altar, his hands folded firmly before him and his smile beaming with joy so palpable it weighed on the skin of his face. Carlos stood behind him, fighting back the tears that expressed the happiness he felt for two of his best buds. Logan slowly turned his head to Carlos, his eyes wrinkling in an impartial stare.

"Why are you crying? He hasn't even made it down the aisle yet," Logan asked in a hushed whisper.

"Weddings just make me cry, man!" Carlos whispered back. Logan rolled his eyes and consoled Carlos with a couple pats on the back and a quick rub on his shoulder. Carlos frantically wiped his tears to avoid drawing attention from the almost-married couple but his tears kept flooding like a leaky faucet. Logan sighed as he retrieved the handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to his weeping friend. As Carlos' nose honked into the handkerchief, Logan pulled him onto his shoulder and rubbed circles into his back to relinquish Carlos' tears indefinitely.

"Thank you for doing this, Mrs. Knight," James mumbled as he and Jennifer continued their stroll.

"You've known me for years, honey," Jennifer replied. "Call me Jennifer."

"Right... thank you, Jennifer."

"You're welcome," Jennifer grinned. "So, are you okay now?"

"No," James confessed with a heavy sigh. "But I will be."

As their stroll down the aisle came to a reluctant end, Jennifer joined Katie in the audience, and James stood across from Kendall at the altar. James' eyes locked with Kendall's, a mixture of hope and contentment swimming in his emerald gaze. His heart swelled to see so much love flickering in Kendall's eyes. They took each other's hands and grinned at one another as if it were almost a competition.

"Oh, here," James utters as he returns the lilac bouquet to Kendall. "You should have this back."

"Thanks for keeping it warm for me," Kendall chuckled, eliciting a kindred reaction from James.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of James Diamond and Kendall Knight in matrimony," The wedding officiant began.

The ceremony continued with an overdrawn script from the officiant, a heartfelt exchange of vows, and many shed tears. The nearly married couple cracked a few jokes in their vows, shared a couple laughs, and referred to their two closest friends standing closely behind them. A myriad of reactions emerged from the audience—coos, tears, blank stares, and nodding heads.

"James and Kendall will now exchange rings as a symbol of their love and lifelong commitment." The officiant remarked, allowing Carlos and Logan to present a pair of silver wedding bands. James took Kendall's hand, gently inserting his finger into his assigned ring. Kendall returned the gesture, the excitement on their faces radiant and infectious. Their pair of best buds stepped back and watched as the final moments of the ceremony unfolded.

"Kendall, do you take James Diamond to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The officiant began once more. "Do you promise to love and cherish him, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, for so long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Kendall grinned.

"And James, do you take Kendall Knight to be—" The officiant trailed off.

"Yes, absolutely!" James beamed. "You had me at Kendall."

Cheers and giggles emerged from the audience at James' display of eagerness and excitement. Kendall's cheeks flushed with color, highlighting the contours of his dimpled smile. James looked into the audience, his gaze falling upon the reserved seat meant for his mother. It stung to see her chair empty, barren, and cold. But he couldn't afford to focus on a loss that couldn't possibly measure up to the greatest victory awaiting him in real-time. He returned his gaze to Kendall, squeezing his hands the way he'd grown accustomed to feeling.

"If there are no objections, then by the power vested in me by the state of Minnesota, I now pronounce you husband and husband," The officiant concluded. "You may now kiss the—"

James' arms immediately enveloped Kendall's waist in his abrupt kiss. Pleasantly surprised and powerless to resist, Kendall throws his arms around James' neck, their bodies flush against one another as they share their first-ever kiss as a married couple. James lifted his husband from the ground, eliciting a surprised yelp as he spun him in circles. His abrupt movements kept Kendall squealing and clinging to him for dear life.

While James fled the altar with his husband securely cradled in his arms, Kendall tossed his bouquet behind him without a second thought. Logan and Carlos simultaneously dove to catch it, crying, "I got it!" in unison. They charged for the bouquet in mid-air and crashed on the ground as they both grabbed different heights of the stems.

The two bouquet-fetching men rose to their feet, realizing they'd both caught the bouquet. They narrowed their eyes at each other in competitive gazes as the tension began poisoning their better judgment.

"I believe I grabbed the bouquet first, so you can let go now," Logan sneered as he snatched the lilacs away from Carlos.

"I don't think so. You see, I'm the one who caught the bouquet first," Carlos refuted, pulling the bouquet back toward him.

"Oh, you wish," Logan hissed as he seized the bouquet yet again.

"Yeah, I do wish. So, gimme!" Carlos barked in his attempt to regain ownership of the lilacs.

"Keep dreaming, pal!" Logan retaliated.

The two flower-fueled competitors repeated their back-and-forth motions of snatching the bouquet. They rocked back and forth with each fruitless tug and tussle. It wasn't long before their motions had become more aggressive and combative in their efforts to keep the bouquet of lilacs indefinitely.

As they fought each other to no avail, continuing to pull the bouquet away from each other, it eventually flew out of their hands and back into the air. "No!" they cried in unison as they watched their supposed prize evade them.

"Sorry, boys," Katie smirked as she caught the bouquet without needing to rise from her seat. "This one's mine."

Carlos and Logan's faces fell, their jaws dropping and heads hanging low in defeat. They had no choice but to forfeit the bouquet to the one guest they had no chance of defeating or bargaining with. As the two dispirited men stayed at the altar to wallow in their combined failure, the guests began filing out of the venue to attend the reception.

"Hey, everyone's leaving," Carlos observed, sharing a pensive glance with Logan. They nodded at each other in understanding, their smirks wide and energetic in nature.

"Race you to the reception?" Logan suggested.

"You're on!" Carlos roared.

[racefortheironthrone]

I have come to realize, I don't quite understand what a back-up story is? Like, do some comic issues just sometimes have too much space for the main story so they include another, smaller comic at the back?

No, it's usually the reverse: the creators have a story they like, but that's too short to make up a full comic, so they attach it as a bonus feature after the A-story.

To me, the acme of how to do backup stories are Chris Claremont's Classic X-Men. In an era before trade paperback and omnibus collections were common, in an era before there were digital comics libraries where you could access the entire back catalogue of entire companies on demand, Classic X-Men reprinted everything from the Roy Thomas/Neal Adams Silver Age through to the big hits of the first hundred or so issues of the Claremont run with edited captions and dialogue and interstitial panels and pages of new art.

However, Chris Claremont wasn't satisfied with tinkering around the edges, so the first 44 issues of Classic X-Men included backup stories by him and Ann Nocenti. These short (usually ~8 page) stories included a lot of "deleted scenes" - so you get to see how things that are alluded to but not shown in the main narrative, like the beginning of Logan and Jean's attraction in the immediate wake of Giant-Size #1, or Emma Frost's Hellfire Club scheming against Jason Wyngarde or Selene during the Dark Phoenix Saga, or Jean Grey wrestling with what it means to be the Phoenix with the help of Storm and Misty Knight, or why Nightcrawler stopped using his image inducer and came out of the closet as a mutant, etc. These scenes "danced between the raindrops" of canon, where they added richness and flavor to the main story without being essential reading.

But more and more, Claremont and Nocenti used these backup stories to fill out backstories through "period pieces." It is in these stories that we see Max Eisenhardt escape Auschwitz and tragically lose his daughter Anya, or go from being a Nazi hunter in South America to a mutant separatist terrorist when he learns the truth about Operation Paperclip. It is in these stories that we see Jean Grey's psychic powers awaken when she experiences the tragic death of her childhood friend Annie Richardson from inside Annie's mind, and how that shaped her understanding of life and death and what it means to be a mutant.

I would argue that these stories are essential reading, because they're often where Claremont (and Nocenti) found the emotional core of his characters, the motivational drives that make them who they are.

Alternatively, backup stories are where creators could take advantage of free "real estate" in anthology books, team-up books, and annuals to tell more fantastical and imaginative B-stories that wouldn't have fit within an overarching narrative. So we get weird stuff like Margali Szardos casting her adopted son Kurt Wagner into the literal Inferno of Dante Alighieri, or straight-edge Harlan County miner's son Sam Guthrie romantically abducted by an intergalactic cat burglar who also happens to be a cockney Joan Jett, and so on.

And that's what I like about backup stories - they're like miniature paintings, where the artists get to stretch their creative muscles free of the burden and pressure of the magnum opus.