#my brother in the back: yes but that requires you to have a groom first

[sailforvalinor]

My dad told me that I asked him to play this at my wedding—I have no memory of this, but I’m still absolutely on-board

[punkshort]

Roommates | 9. hold onto each other

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You build up enough courage to finally talk things out with Joel and tell him how you feel before the wedding is over.

Chapter Warnings: language, food and alcohol consumption, lots of smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral (f!receiving), pussy pronouns, fluff, discussions of mental health, shower sex, mirror sex, having sex while on the phone (don't know what else to call it, also don't know if that requires a warning), thigh fucking?, dirty talk, idiots in love

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I will not apologize for what you're about to read. (It's filth. Pure, unadulterated filthy smut).

Series Masterlist

"That is the man you were roommates with?" your mother asked enviously as she gazed at Joel across the dance floor, who was standing with another groomsman while he held up his mom's pink sparkly phone to record her dancing with Tommy.

"Yep," you said longingly, tearing your eyes away from him to look back at your mom. She tilted her head to the side and her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

"He looks familiar."

Your eyes widened and you tried your best not to scream into the palms of your hands as images of your own mother stumbling across Joel's porn filled your head.

She snapped her fingers with a smile. "Mitch and I saw him at the bar the other night! He must have been helping Tommy, he was carrying boxes of alcohol."

You shook your head. "No, Mom, that couldn't have been him."

"No, I'm certain it was. I remember even telling Mitch at the time they looked alike. And I would never forget those arms. The way they practically burst out of his T-shirt-"

"Mom!" you whined, begging her to stop.

She chuckled and took a sip of her wine. "Oh, please, let me have my fun."

You groaned and drank the rest of your champagne. Well, at least she didn't recognize him from porn.

The song changed to another ballad and you watched as Mrs. Miller kissed Tommy on the cheek before breaking away and motioning towards Joel. A small smile tugged at your lips as he pocketed her phone and took her hand before leading her around the dance floor. His face was filled with such love and adoration that it made your heart melt.

As you continued to watch Joel and his mother move around the dance floor, you felt yourself growing nervous again. Now that the cake was cut and the first dances were done, most of the significant parts of the wedding were over. Which meant soon you would need to muster the courage to talk to Joel.

Fuck, maybe you should have one more drink.

No, you didn't want to be drunk when you told him. He needed to know you meant what you said. You've done enough to him in the past year, jerking him around and unintentionally hurting his feelings. If you had any shot in hell, you had to make sure you were somewhat clearheaded.

Your mother was just finishing up her cake when she looked over your shoulder. Her eyes lit up excitedly and she straightened up in her seat, smoothing down her dress. With a frown, you turned to see what she was looking at then felt your heart skip a beat when you saw Joel approaching.

"Evenin'," he said to your mother, his voice deep and syrupy. "I'm Joel, brother of the groom." He stuck out his hand and your mother giddily handed hers over while giving her name. He brought her knuckles to his lips and she giggled, making you roll your eyes.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she gushed, her cheeks tinting pink already.

"Pleasure's all mine, ma'am," he answered, dropping her hand with a smirk. She gave you a look and raised her eyebrows.

"Ma'am, did you hear that?" she loudly whispered to you.

"Yes, I am sitting right here," you said flatly.

Joel cleared his throat and you looked back up at him.

"Was wonderin' if I could have this dance," he said to you, then glanced at your mother. "If you could spare her, that is."

Your mother giggled again and waved him off. "Of course! You two have fun, I was getting ready to go home soon anyway."

You quickly said your goodbyes to your mom before allowing Joel to lead you out onto the dance floor. He took one of your hands and held it out to your side, the other sliding around your waist while you rested your hand on his shoulder with a smile.

"I'm so honored," you told him with a teasing lilt to your voice as he slowly lead you around the dance floor.

"Why?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"I haven't seen you dancing with anyone else except your mom."

He smirked and tilted his chin up to look somewhere over the top of your head. "You been watchin' me?"

Your cheeks warmed from embarrassment but you didn't really care. "Maybe."

He hummed, smirk still stretched across his lips as he looked around the banquet room, but he wasn't really looking at anyone or anything in particular.

"You look handsome."

His eyebrows shot up and he looked down at you once again. "Thank you?"

You giggled and felt his fingers grip your waist a little tighter. "Is that a question?"

He grinned and shook his head. "Tryin' to flatter me, what're you up to?"

The butterflies began to stir in your belly once again so you dropped your gaze. "Well, there is something I wanted to talk to you about."

The smile slowly slid from his face when he heard the serious tone to your voice. "Everythin' okay?"

"Y-yeah, everything's fine," you quickly assured him. Just then, Michael Bublé's voice faded out and the DJ picked a Black Eyed Peas song that instantly caused the dance floor to break out into cheers, completely ruining the atmosphere from a moment ago. "Nevermind," you said as you attempted to step away, but he tightened his grip. "I'll tell you some other time."

"Tell me now."

You winced when a handful of girls nearby began to drunkenly scream along to the lyrics. Joel looked frustrated when he finally dropped his hand from your waist but kept his other hand firmly wrapped around yours. "Follow me."

He lead you through the crowd and as you passed by your abandoned table, you grabbed your clutch. Shit. Were you really going to do this? Were you really going to pour your heart out to him in the middle of his brother's wedding? What if he shot you down? What if he got mad at you for trying to drag him into your messy life once again? What if you were about to ruin the fragile relationship you just rebuilt?

He pulled you into the lobby, which was relatively empty given the time of night, and found a small area with a few couches and chairs and a television airing the local news on mute with the closed captioning on.

"Alright," he urged when you sat down next to him on one of the couches. You could hear the bass thumping from the closed banquet room and people's laughter echoing over the music, but otherwise it was quiet. You fiddled with the hem of your dress, trying to give your nerves a chance to settle, but it was no use.

"So, I told you I've been in therapy," you began, staring down at your lap, pretending to find a loose thread in your dress.

"Mhm."

"Lately, I've been working on my insecurities and self destructive tendencies. Specifically, related to you."

His fingers that were once casually tapping on the back of the sofa suddenly stopped.

"Okay..." he said slowly.

You cleared your throat and kept your eyes pinned to your lap.

"... and your job," you added, biting the inside of your cheek. "I've been working on... learning to be okay with it. Focusing on the source of my insecurities and why I feel the way I feel about it and I think I've made some progress."

"That's... good," he told you, clearly confused. "But why are you tellin' me this?"

You sucked in a deep breath and forced yourself to look at him. He was staring at you softly with his perfect lips pouting so enticingly, giving you the final bit of courage you needed to say what you wanted to say.

"I'm telling you this because... because I want to be with you, Joel. If you'll give me another chance, I want to do this right." His expression remained unchanged so you barreled ahead. "I don't care about your job. Not anymore. I just want to be with you. You make me happy, you make me laugh, I think about you all the time." You were growing more nervous with every passing second where he didn't say anything, so you continued to fill the silence with your own rambling thoughts. "Any time something good happens, I want to call you. Any time something bad happens, I want to call you. It's always you. It's always been you. And I'm sorry for everything I put you through and I'm sorry it's taken me so long to fix myself, but I couldn't -"

"Stop."

Your words died in your throat at his harsh tone. Biting your lip, you closed your eyes and tried not to cry as you waited for the sting of his rejection, but to your surprise, it never came. Instead, you felt his fingers gently pinch your chin. You opened your eyes to find him leaning forward, his gaze seeming angry despite his soft touch.

"You don't need to fix yourself," he said bitterly. "You're fuckin' perfect."

You exhaled loudly, a dry chuckle slipping past your lips as you wiped away a tear or two. "I'm not."

"You are," he told you firmly before finally closing the distance between you and brushing his lips softly against yours. "You are," he whispered again and again, each sweet kiss becoming more urgent than the last. You grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands and held him close, pressing your mouth against his tightly before leaning back and pushing your foreheads together with a smile.

"Is that a yes?" you laughed.

"'Course it is, you kiddin' me?" he said quietly before sliding his hand up to grip the back of your neck, his nose gently nudging yours, the both of you taking a few tender moments to soak everything in with matching smiles. "I should probably tell you somethin', though."

One hand dropped from his collar and you tipped your head back a fraction so you could look him in the eye. "What?"

He grinned and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I quit my job."

Your eyes widened and you leaned all the way back in surprise. "What?!"

"Months ago, actually," he said with a laugh. You smacked him on the shoulder but you weren't mad. In fact, you were smiling so much it almost hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I didn't wanna pressure you. You said you were workin' on yourself and all that."

Your lower lip trembled and you smacked his shoulder again, but with less force. "I can't believe you," you whispered before tugging him forward and sliding your tongue past his lips with a moan. There was something so beautiful to be had in that moment. Each of you had done something monumental to try to make it work between you and it was so moving, so powerful that you found yourself getting carried away, completely forgetting where you were as you climbed into his lap, his hands immediately dropping to squeeze your ass. But who could blame you, when you've waited so long for that moment?

Joel pulled his head back with a sharp inhale, breaking the kiss when he heard a door across the lobby open and close. "Do you... we oughta... they're probably wonderin' where we are." He lifted one arm so he could check the time on his watch, then glanced back up at you. You were staring down at him, breathless and needy, your eyes already drifting back down to his mouth.

You didn't need to say anything.

"Fuck it, c'mon," he said, quickly lifting you off his lap so you could both stand. In your eagerness to race to the elevator, you almost forgot your purse. Doubling back as fast as your heels would carry you, you grabbed it from the couch and hurried back just as the elevator doors opened.

He jabbed the L4 button numerous times until the damn doors slid shut.

"Christ, wanted this for so long," he whispered, eyes squeezing shut when you pushed him up against the side of the elevator. "Wanted you for so long," he corrected himself after a moment. Your mouth found the exposed patch of chest at the top of his shirt and your tongue slipped out between your lips, flicking against his skin as you continued to leave wet kisses everywhere you could find. You made it to the hollow of his throat when the elevator dinged and you tore yourself away to drag him down the hall.

"Which room?"

"Don't care."

You picked yours. Your fingers were shaking as you raked through your small clutch, then tapped the hard plastic against the sensor, getting frustrated when you were going too quick and the door wouldn't open. Joel chuckled behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, digging his hips against your ass so you could feel his arousal through your clothes.

"Not helping," you muttered before forcing yourself to slow down and finally the door gave way and you stumbled inside.

His mouth was on you in an instant. Eager lips pressed against your own, champagne soaked tongues reunited, tangling together while you recklessly shoved his tuxedo coat over his shoulders, leaving it crumpled on the floor near the bathroom as you made your way to the bed.

Joel's hands slid up and down the back of your dress, fingers plucking at the fabric, trying to locate the zipper without having to pull away. You tugged one of his hands to your side without looking, blindly leading him to his target. He smiled against your lips and yanked the zipper down so fast, he nearly tore the fabric.

Leaving your dress in a pile at the foot of your bed, you pulled away from the kiss so you could fall back onto the mattress. Your chests were heaving in unison as you both fought for air, staring at one another, anticipation growing thick.

His eyes drifted down your almost naked body while his fingers worked the buttons on his dress shirt, lips parted to suck in more air as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Is this real?" he asked, eyes catching yours once again after he shrugged off his shirt.

"I think so," you replied quietly, sounding just as incredulous. "I hope so."

He loudly unbuckled his belt, then the fly of his pants as you laid before him, sprawled out over the plush comforter like an offering.

"Ain't ever lettin' you go after this," he warned as he stepped out of his pants. "Never again, hear me?"

You nodded. "Please don't."

He cupped his palms around the backs of your knees and tugged, pulling you to the edge of the bed with one rough motion.

"As pretty as these are, they gotta go," he murmured, hooking his fingers around the lace edge of your panties and sliding them down your legs. A little pained sound rumbled in the back of his throat when he spread your knees and saw the evidence of your arousal between your legs. He fell to his knees and rested the side of his face against your thigh as he gazed down at your aching center.

"Missed you," he whispered lovingly into your folds before dragging his tongue, slow and broad, through the entire length of your slit.

"Oh, my god," you whined when his lips puckered around your clit and gently sucked. "Were you talking to me or her?"

You felt his lips twitch against your sensitive skin and released your bundle of nerves with a little moan. "Was talkin' to her but I missed you, too."

Some sharp, sarcastic comment was on the verge of slipping past your lips but quickly got swallowed down and forgotten when he began to lick, his tongue probing into your cunt while his upper lip pressed against your clit. The friction from his beard on the most sensitive part of your body made you see stars. Your back arched and you cried out his name, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he continued to lick and suck with a deep groan.

"Joel," you whimpered, legs weakly stretching and kicking under his ministrations. He quickly put a stop to that by grabbing both and tossing them over his shoulders then using his hands to grip your thighs, but still you writhed in his hold.

"Y'got know idea what you do to me," he whispered under his breath before diving back in.

"Fuck... I-I can't..." you panted, fists grabbing the comforter, pulling and tugging, desperate to grab onto anything. His fingers dug into the crease of your thighs, holding your hips against his face, fucking you relentlessly with his tongue as if he were afraid he would never get a chance to do it again.

He slid one hand flat over your mound and pressed down on your clit with his thumb. You bucked off the bed, everything feeling too sensitive, too sharp. But still, he pinned you down, his tongue that was once lapping at your pussy suddenly more focused and calculated when his lips puckered together in favor of loudly kissing your sex with a deep groan.

With two quick and firm circles over your clit, you fell apart. He was saying something, you could feel the vibrations of his voice, but you had no idea what he said. Your throat had grown hoarse, fingers grabbing for his hair while your heart pounded in your ears.

"It ain't ever been like this," he said, and finally you were able to understand him. You slowly opened your eyes to find him hovering over you, his beard and mouth shiny with your slick and his eyes so wide and soft it made your chest ache.

"I know," you whispered, running a hand through his hair. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed when you pulled him close and pressed your mouth against his. He pushed you up the bed so your head rested on the pillows, never once breaking the deep kiss. It was slower, now. There was no rush, no need to hurry to keep what you had a secret.

"Shit, my condoms are 'cross the hall," he mumbled against your lips. The very last thing he wanted to do was leave you. Not now. Not ever.

"Just make sure you pull out," you told him, apparently also unwilling to let him leave, and reached down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his thick length.

"Y-yeah, okay... okay," he breathed when he felt you line him up with your entrance.

His brain went numb and his features went slack as he slowly eased inside you. He couldn't take his eyes off your face; the way your eyebrows pinched together and the sound you made when you gasped softly, your body being forced to adjust to his size after months without him.

"Fuck," you whispered, eyes welling with tears as you gazed up at him.

"I know, I know," he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over your nose.

"Joel, I love you," you whimpered in his ear when he finally buried himself fully inside you.

"What?" he asked breathlessly, certain he misunderstood.

"I love you," you repeated, your teeth nipping at his chin as you writhed underneath him, willing him to move. His eyes squeezed shut and he wrapped his arms around your middle, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"I love you, too," he choked out, voice thick with emotion that he tried to stifle with kisses to your throat and jaw. "Love you so fuckin' much. Always did, I think."

He clenched his jaw and flexed his hips, pulling a sweet moan from your lips as you tipped your head back and closed your eyes. He was so slow with it, making sure you felt every inch when he dragged his cock in and out, your arousal painting his inner thighs every time his hips made contact with your skin. You might have felt embarrassed if you both weren't so preoccupied with trading love bites and occasionally whispering you feel so good, I missed you, I love you, I love you, I love you, chests pressed together, desperate to get as close as possible.

You unhooked your ankles from his lower back and slid your legs up his sides so your knees were resting near his ribs. With his tongue still tangled with yours, he blindly reached down to grab one of your thighs and gently pressed forward, pushing your knee towards your chest. Your eyes flew open and you gasped at the intense angle, but still he kept up the same pace. Every thrust was slow and deep, every groan was low and soft, and every whisper sounded like a prayer.

"Just wanna feel you," he murmured against your neck, his beard scraping your skin, making it feel warmer than it already was. "Wanna fuck you like this always. Shit, baby," he moaned when he felt you clench around him. "Shit, that feels good. Such a soft pussy..." he trailed off and latched onto your lips for a fast and messy kiss. "Oh, fuck... best fuckin' pussy I've ever had."

And oh, did you love hearing that. You smiled and threaded your fingers through his hair, nails scraping gently over his scalp with a deep sigh.

"Yeah? You love her, too?"

He grinned. "Y'know I do."

He hitched your other leg over his arm, practically bending you in half while grinding into you, watching as your breath quickened and your tongue shot out to wet your lips. "Joel," you whined, the pressure mounting low in your belly, "I'm close, I'm... fuck, I'm gonna come. Please," you begged, not really sure what you were begging for in the first place. Maybe for him to keep going. Maybe for him to kiss you again. Maybe for him to fill the hole in your heart that's been destroying you for months.

When you came, you squeezed around his cock, his name getting caught in your throat when his mouth crashed over yours.

"So pretty," he mumbled, voice a little strained as he tried to keep it together long enough for you to come down. "Love watchin' you come. Who makes you feel good, baby?"

"You do," you whimpered, weak fingers grabbing at his shoulders.

"'S'right," he said, his breath growing ragged. He could feel his stomach tensing and he knew he only had a few more moments. "Only me. Tell me you're mine," he pleaded, his sweaty forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"I'm yours, Joel," you told him, voice a little clearer but still shaky. "And you're mine," you added softly, corner of your mouth lifting when you heard him groan.

He pulled out and grabbed his cock, giving it only a few quick strokes before he painted your stomach with his release, the both of you watching in a daze until he stopped with a shudder and collapsed onto the bed next to you, chest heaving with an arm draped tiredly over his eyes.

"I'll get somethin'," he told you, gesturing vaguely towards your stomach with his eyes still hidden. "Just... gimme a second."

"Mhmm," you mumbled, catching your breath with your arms stretched above your head. "I need a shower, anyway," you told him, all the hair products and makeup from the past twelve hours beginning to feel like paint.

"Oh?" he questioned, sounding disappointed when he turned his face to you. "Okay, sure."

"Will you stay?" you asked, hating how pathetic you sounded. But he smiled warmly and pinched your chin before planting a soft kiss against your lips.

"'Course I'll stay," he whispered, kissing you slowly once more before releasing you.

Joel watched with a lazy smirk as you stood with a quiet ow under your breath, your body no doubt already sore.

"Gonna have to get that pretty pussy used to me again," he teased, laughing and dodging the pillow you grabbed from the other bed that you chucked in his direction before entering the bathroom and shutting the door.

He laid in your bed, staring at the ceiling as he listened to the water turn on and the shower door close. He kept waiting to wake up, kept thinking the past hour was some crazy dream or fantasy, but it was real.

You loved him.

For years, he tried to find someone like you. Someone who would love him for him and not just use him. Sure, in the beginning he didn't mind being used. But the past few years he found to be painfully lonely. Especially once Tommy met Maria, that ache in his chest grew every time he saw them together, or every time he heard Tommy on the phone or talk about her with such fondness in his eyes. Selfishly, he always wondered why not me?

Now he had his answer. He was just waiting for you.

He heard you humming in the shower, your voice echoing off the glass walls and he smiled. He imagined you in there cleaning yourself up, your perfect body all soapy and wet and he felt his cock twitch.

"Shit," he muttered, lifting the thin sheet to see himself begin to swell once again. Would it always be like this? Would he always have an insatiable appetite for you?

A minute later and he was almost fully hard once more. He palmed it over the sheet and he looked longingly at the closed bathroom door. What was taking so long?

Then a smirk spread across his face and he jumped up from the bed, cock bobbing at attention between his legs as he walked to the bathroom and quietly opened the door.

The mirror was fogged up and so were the glass shower walls. He could hardly see you through all the steam, but he heard you. He heard the water cascading off your body and your fingers running through your wet hair.

Carefully, he opened the door and was pleased to find your back was to him as you rinsed out the last of your conditioner. When he wrapped his arms around your waist, you jumped and screamed a little before collapsing into a fit of laughter and turning around in his arms. Fuck, you looked so beautiful. All the makeup was down the drain but you looked more radiant than ever.

He leaned forward for a wet kiss, his hands sliding down to cup and squeeze your ass before pulling on your hips, tugging you closer so you could feel how hard he was for you.

"Need you," he murmured, but he meant more than just the obvious. He didn't want to be without you now that he had you, not even for a second.

"Already?" you breathed, but he just nodded, his lips dragging down your neck, your skin smelling like roses and vanilla.

"Too much?" he asked, mouth trailing slowly over your shoulder. Your nipples were pressed against his chest and his cock nearly hurt from how hard he was.

"No," you whispered, letting your eyes slide shut as you curled your arms around his neck. "Never too much."

Without hesitation, he crouched and grabbed the backs of your thighs, hauling you off the ground so he could press your back against the glass. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gasped when the tip of his cock nudged at your opening, the width surprising you, even still.

You let out a loud moan when he pressed forward, sinking himself back into your sore, aching heat, right where he belonged. One of his hands supported your ass and the other was flat against the glass next to your head, his fingers leaving wet smudges as he rocked his hips into you, swallowing down every whine and moan that tumbled from your mouth. That perfect fucking mouth he dreamed about for the past year. And now it was all his.

"God, Joel, yes... right there," you cried out, cunt already pulsing and gripping him so tight that he had half a mind not to pull out that time.

"Yeah?" he groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he nipped at your chin, watching as your head rolled listlessly against the foggy glass while he drove into you over and over. "There?"

"Yeah," you practically whined, hand shooting up to grab his hair, fingers slipping through his wet curls. "No one's ever... I can't... you're so-" you rambled half formed thoughts as your heart hammered in your chest, your orgasm steadily climbing, unable to tell him what you wanted to tell him.

"No one's what, baby?" he growled, thrusting himself impossibly deeper inside your cunt. "No one's ever fucked you this good? Huh?"

"No," you whimpered, biting down on your lower lip.

"What else? No one's ever made you come this much? Tell me, I wanna hear it," he groaned in your ear, his hot breath melting with the steam from the shower.

You shook your head then nodded, as if you didn't know how to answer. And you couldn't. Not when he was fucking you like it would be the last time.

"No one's ever - oh, fuck," you gasped, swallowing a mouthful of air, "no one's ever m-made me feel so good. I've never w-wanted anyone the way I want you." You squeezed your eyes shut but he quickly bit your jaw, forcing them back open.

"Keep your eyes on me."

You nodded, jaw half open as you did as you were told. His brows were furrowed deep, eyes wild and skin flushed as he pounded into you, forcing you over the edge for the third time in less than two hours.

"I got you," he murmured when your body sagged from the effort. He wrapped both arms around you now and fucked up into you recklessly, chasing his own high as quickly as possible so he could take you back to bed and rest.

Even though the voice inside his head was screaming at him to come inside you, he miraculously pulled out, spilling himself all over the shower wall between your legs.

"You okay?" he asked breathlessly, setting you down but still holding onto your shoulders. You nodded and slumped against his chest, legs visibly shaking. He chuckled and reached for the shower knob, turning the water off before walking you towards the door. Swinging it open, he reached out blindly for a towel. Finding one, he wrapped it around your shoulders, swaddling you and keeping you warm while he reached for another.

He messily knotted it around his waist and led you to bed. You didn't even bother to put any pajamas on or remove the towel, you just buried yourself under the covers with a contented sigh.

Joel was about to turn back to the bathroom and clean up a bit before you spoke.

"Come to bed."

His heart clenched in his chest and he smiled as he rounded the bed and slid under the sheets to join you, unable to resist.

Quickly, you scooted over to him, tossing a leg over his stomach and an arm over his chest and buried your face against his neck. He held you close, breathing in deep before you whispered, "I love you, Joel."

"I love you, too," he spoke into your hair, his chest ready to burst with happiness as you both fell into a deep sleep.

When you awoke the next morning, you smiled before you even opened your eyes. Joel's natural scent combined with the floral shampoo you used that the hotel had left out filled your nostrils. You breathed in deep and buried your face further into his warm, bare chest. He stretched underneath you, muscles pulling under his tanned skin, his fingers digging into your shoulders as he flexed.

"Morning," you whispered groggily, eyes still closed. You felt his arms wrap around you as he rolled onto his side, tugging you against him.

"Mornin'."

It can always be like this now, you thought. Waking up next to each other whenever you wanted. No sneaking around, no more hiding how you felt. It was perfect.

Until Joel's phone rang shrilly on his nightstand. He groaned and, keeping one arm securely around you, reached behind him to grab it.

"Hello?" he answered, voice thick and rough with sleep. Your body responded instantly, your core softening at his voice like it was a command, but what came with it was also a tight hint of soreness from the night before.

You could hear Tommy's voice through the phone, but you couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Nah, I'm hungover as shit, gonna order somethin'," Joel said.

You thought he had been joking the night before about getting your body used to him again, but you began to realize he was probably being serious the more you squirmed around and felt the stiffness in your muscles and hips.

"Yeah, alright. If I don't see ya later, I'll catch ya at the bar tomorrow."

He tapped his screen and tossed his phone haphazardly behind him with a smirk. "C'mere," he murmured, pressing his swollen lips against yours, his hand drifting to cup your face.

Christ, you were sore but you still wanted him so badly.

You flicked your tongue against the seam of his lips, deepening the kiss the second he dropped his jaw. Right when you were about to curl your leg around his hip and roll over to straddle him, your own phone began to vibrate loudly against your nightstand.

You both froze, lips still seared together, then slowly opened your eyes.

"Hold on," you grumbled, rolling over so your back was to Joel, then picked up your phone.

"It's Maria."

"Answer it," he said, inching closer. He pulled you back against his chest, cock hard and pressing between your bodies as you begrudgingly answered the phone.

"Hey! Have a fun night?" you asked cheerily. Your eyes snapped up to see movement in the full length mirror across from the bed. It was narrow, but you could see from your stomach down. Joel was pushing the sheets off himself and you watched as his hand drifted in front of you, tugging the sheet away from your chest, exposing yourself to the cool air. When he palmed one of your breasts from behind, you had to bite back a moan so Maria wouldn't hear.

"So much fun! I hardly got any sleep," she was saying, but you could barely hear her when his fingers slid down to pinch your nipple. You turned your face upwards to gasp softly, hoping it didn't get picked up by the receiver.

"Yeah?" you asked, hoping that would be enough to encourage her, and it was.

Maria kept babbling about things that happened the night before, things you missed after you and Joel snuck away. She was telling you something about a groomsman who attempted to do a split in the middle of the dance floor and ended up ripping his pants when you saw Joel lift your leg in the mirror, hooking it around his inner elbow and spreading your hips wide. Embarrassment flushed your face when you saw your pussy in the mirror, already glistening with arousal.

Then his cock slipped between your legs, nudging at your folds, his smooth tip coating itself in your slick before he pushed forward, parting your swollen cunt. The pain was brief, yet intense, but you were entirely distracted with the way it looked in the mirror. How fucking big he was and how you opened up and stretched so beautifully for him.

"Did the phone cut out?"

"Huh?" you squeaked, eyes transfixed on your reflection, hips rocking steadily in rhythm with his. You felt him chuckle behind you, his arm pulling your leg up even more so you could see everything.

"I asked if you wanted to join us for breakfast? The rest of the bridal party is meeting at the restaurant downstairs in twenty minutes."

Fuck, he felt so good. Combined with the visual, it was almost too much.

"Uh, I'm gonna pass. I already ate, I'm pretty full," you told her, eyes briefly fluttering shut when he began to move faster, his skin lightly slapping against your ass. You thought you heard him mumble yeah, you are, and you had to bite down hard on your lower lip.

"Well, okay. If you change your mind, we'll be down there at ten."

"Okay, thanks! I better go, my mom's beeping in. I'll call you later," you said hurriedly, hoping you weren't being too rude but if you stayed on the phone with her for one more minute, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide what you were really doing.

Mercifully, she hung up and you tossed your phone onto the floor, uncaring where it ended up, and reached behind you to curl your fingers around the back of Joel's head. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was messy and heated, and the way you had to twist your neck was awkward, but it didn't matter.

"Fuck yeah, baby. Look how good you take me," he groaned in your ear when he spotted you glancing towards the mirror again. "So pretty, ain't it?"

"Mhmm," you whined, still entranced by the way his thick cock split you open and you knew for sure in that moment no one else would ever come close to Joel. You were stupid to try to fight it.

Your hand dropped to clutch your pillow, your stomach drawing tighter the faster he snapped his hips, every devastating thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm gonna come," you whimpered, and he readjusted his grip on your leg, prying you open as wide as you would go.

You felt his teeth graze your shoulder, his breath hot and quick as his exhale puffed against your skin.

"That's right. Come all over my cock, baby. Give it t'me," he growled, hips slamming into you from behind so forcefully it almost pushed you off the bed, each thrust driving him deeper and deeper inside you.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you cried out when you came, your walls pulsing around his length, your body trying to suck him in and keep him there and fuck if he didn't want that, too.

At the last second he pulled out, watching in a daze as he dropped your leg, his cock now sandwiched between your thighs. With a deep groan, he watched in the mirror as he shot thick, white ropes of his seed all over your legs and the hotel sheets.

"I love you," he gasped, his sweaty forehead pressed against your upper back as he dragged in mouthfuls of air, waiting for his pulse to settle. "'M sorry, can't stop sayin' it."

You reached behind you and found his hand. Lacing your fingers together, you wrapped his arm around your middle, mumbling I love you, too, never tiring of it.

You waited a respectable amount of time for the bridal party to eat and leave the restaurant before venturing downstairs together, hand in hand. You contemplated just ordering room service but you weren't entirely certain you could keep your hands off each other long enough to eat, so forcing yourselves to leave the room felt like the best option.

The hostess led you to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, the room still buzzing with activity even though it was late in the morning. Your fingers linked together across the table as you sipped your coffees, exchanging little smirks whenever your eyes met.

"Can I ask you a question?" Joel asked, and you almost found yourself laughing at how serious he suddenly looked.

"Of course."

He glanced around the dining room quickly before leaning across the table. "You ain't on birth control anymore?"

You knocked the heel of your hand against your forehead. "I'm sorry, I should've told - no, I'm not. I took myself off the pill because I wasn't... y'know," you trailed off, embarrassment creeping up your neck.

Joel couldn't stop his smirk when he put it together so he pursed his lips and tilted his face toward the table, trying to hide it before saying, "so you're tellin' me you didn't have sex with anyone else since me?"

"Don't act so proud," you teased with a grin.

"I ain't," he said defensively, then thought about it for a moment before laughing. "Okay, maybe I am."

You giggled as you watched him take a sip of coffee, daydreaming about your future together and all the endless breakfasts you'll share. You imagined getting up early for work and showering, then coming into the kitchen to find Joel in just his pajama bottoms pouring you both coffees with unkept hair, asking if you saved him enough hot water because he still had to get ready for work.

Work. Suddenly, your smile fell when you remembered something. "Wait, you said you quit your job?" you asked, and he nodded, his thumb rubbing against the inside of your wrist. "So what do you do now?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "You ain't gonna believe it."

"Try me," you teased, knees bumping together under the table. You were close but still felt so far apart.

"I bought the bar," he said, sounding almost sheepish. Your eyes widened in surprise.

"Our bar? Tommy's bar?" you questioned, and he nodded. "H-how?"

He chuckled again and raked his fingers through his hair with his free hand. "What'dya mean how? With money."

"Yeah, I figured that," you said with a roll of your eyes, "but you just bought a house, too. How can you afford all that?"

He opened his mouth to reply when the server came to drop off your food. You finally unlinked your hands so you could pick up your silverware, and only once your waitress left did he respond to your question.

"Porn paid good," he said with a shrug. "I did it for a long time and I lived with my brother payin' next to nothin' in rent and utilities."

"Wow," you breathed in awe before shoveling some eggs in your mouth.

He watched you eat quietly for a few minutes before clearing his throat, drawing your attention from your breakfast.

"Why didn't you just ask me to quit? I woulda done it."

You paused your chewing and set your fork down on your plate.

"Because," you began, swallowing your food. "I couldn't ask you to do that for me. It wouldn't feel right and I was afraid if I did, you would grow to resent me."

His brows furrowed and he reached a hand across the table for you. "I woulda never resented you."

"You don't know that," you told him.

"I wasn't happy doin' it. Not like I used to be, anyway," he said. "Kept me from havin' certain things in my life. Could never make a relationship work and as I got older, it was somethin' I really wanted. I just didn't know how to get out. I mean, who can put somethin' like that on a resume?" he laughed softly. "Then Tommy mentioned his boss was lookin' to retire and I thought, hell... won't have to put shit on a resume if I'm my own boss."

You nodded and squeezed his hand, feeling guilty for never realizing he had his own internal struggles going on. Then you swallowed nervously before asking your next question, your curiosity unable to be ignored.

"Well, what about Sadie?" you asked, "she seemed really into you and she obviously wouldn't have had a problem with your career."

He gave you a small smile, eyes flashing with guilt when he thought back to his brief date with Sadie. The night he invited her over for board games and he ended up going down on you in the bathroom while she was left to talk to strangers in the living room.

"She was nice but there wasn't anythin' there. Not really. I was jealous of Sam and knew she liked me... I shouldn't've asked her over that night. It was wrong," he admitted, rubbing his chin. "She never stood a chance. She wasn't you, baby," he said softly.

You felt your chest clench from the tortured look in his eye, and for the millionth time you mentally berated yourself for spending so much time avoiding your feelings for him. Choosing not to deny yourself any longer, you stood up from your chair and closed the short distance between you. Cupping his face with both your hands, you leaned down and kissed him, trying your very best to put every ounce of love you had into it. It must have worked because you could feel his lips curving into a smile, then yours did the same.

It didn't matter how long it took, what mattered was what you had now.

Unfortunately, your bliss was short lived when you heard an all too familiar voice shriek excitedly behind you. You tore yourself away to swivel around in surprise, only to find Tommy and Maria standing a few tables away with their jaws hung open in shock, very clearly having witnessed your kiss.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, tugging on Tommy's arm to drag him over to your table. "I knew something was up when neither of you wanted to join us for food!"

Cheeks blazing hot with embarrassment, you were about to return to your chair but Joel's arm wrapped around you, pulling you to sit sideways in his lap. "No more hidin', yeah?" he murmured in your ear. You grinned and gave him one more quick peck.

"Yeah," you agreed right before they approached. "No more hiding."

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[lokisgoodgirl]

Got another idea for your Fluff-Drabble Marathon... 😁 Thor (or someone of the other Avengers) tries to convince Loki to do a stag party, but he's totally annoyed and confused, like: A what? Why should I do that? That's stupid. 😂

Fluff Drabble Marathon II A link to my Fluff Library is HERE Warnings: Some mild language. Some naughty references. (w/c 700) A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE [18+]

Loki's Bachelor Party

Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Brother, I’m not sure I understand…” he murmured warily, watching Thor’s excited eyes widen. “Oh Loki” he chided, “as I told you before, we will be celebrating your last night of freedom...Midgard style.” “What’s wrong with Asgard style?” the dark-haired god said questioningly, tilting his head. “A lute, some fine wine and nuts is all the celebration I require for my last night of ‘freedom’, brother...thank you.”

Loki re-centred his gaze to the book in his lap, hoping that would be the end of it. The volume was rudely swiped from his grasp, waved in the air by Thor like a childish prize. “I think not, brother.” he boomed, “I will be planning you a bachelor party the likes of which this realm has never seen. We cannot allow the infamous god of mischief to be wed without due homage to his many, many conquests and shenanigans, now can we?” he winked, as Loki rolled his eyes.

“Alright, tell me more about this...homage.” Loki murmured, leaning back against the sofa cautiously as Thor beamed above him. The blonde took a seat beside his brother on the sofa, getting a little to close for comfort as he geared up to reveal his daring plans. “I have been doing much research on the concept and it seems there are several key ingredients which must be adhered to in order for the adequate amount of mischief to be met…” he began, gesturing wildly with his hands. “Right…?” Loki drawled; his interest piqued. “Firstly, ostentatious garments.” Thor declared. “It is necessary to dress in a themed fashion which is both degrading and hilarious in equal measure. For instance, brightly coloured ill-fitting shirts adorned with startled cats...or as babes, diapers and all.” Loki stared at Thor’s expectant face, brimming with enthusiasm. “Absolutely not” he said vacantly, wondering how on earth he would survive the rest of this conversation. “Ok, ok…” Thor mumbled, “we can circle back to that...but you’ll love this one. Alcohol, brother...and lots of it. Ideally in a venue which caters to large crowds of rowdy men. With loud music. Many of them. A ‘bar crawl’ as it is so aptly named.” “Can I bring my own wine?” Loki said warily, watching his brother’s eyes narrow in frustration. “Brother, no” he sighed. “You will be positively bombarded with beverages of all flavours and strengths. Apple sours. Vodka. Tequila. And of course...my personal favourite, Jaegerbombs. The first round of those is on me.” he winked. Loki shuffled awkwardly on the sofa. He could tell that a concession was required in order to placate his brother, who was becoming more excited with each passing moment of his grand reveal. “Perhaps, yes. That would be fine. I do enjoy dancing with Y/N on occasion at those establishments so I am certain she will be a welcome distraction from the taste of midgardian alcohol.” Loki smiled, pleased at his diplomacy. His brow creased as he saw Thor’s eyes flicker to the side.

“Brother,” he whispered, “Y/N will not be in attendance. The most sanctified rule of a bachelor party is...as the name suggests, a covenant between men close to the groom. Men only.” he paused, thoughtfully “and maybe Romanoff.” Loki rolled his eyes, cursing the idiotic traditions of this realm of yours. “Which brings me on to the final aspect of this night to end all nights on the revel-o-meter…” Thor said coyly. There may as well have been a roll of drums, a flourish of trumpets to match the gravitas of his oafish sibling’s tone, Loki thought. “Strippers.” he announced smugly, waiting for Loki’s reaction. “Strippers?” Loki mumbled questioningly, “is that another hideous beverage I know not of?” It was Thor’s turn to roll his eyes. “Ravishing women removing their clothes seductively to music, brother. They parade themselves willingly in front of our merry band, and...special attention is always paid to the groom himself” he murmured knowingly, throwing another wink to Loki as he recoiled in disgust. “Why would I wish a strange woman’s unclothed body within my vicinity when I have true perfection in my own bed?” he questioned solemnly, as Thor’s enthusiastic smile fell. “Well?” Loki doubled down, his eyebrows raised judgementally as his brother squirmed. “It is...expected, Loki. It’s part of the midgardian trad-” “Oh to hell with midgardian tradition and it’s superfluous ridiculousness” Loki huffed, standing and swiping his book from Thor’s hand. “Where did you get all this boarish information from anyway?” “Stark…” Thor mumbled, staring at the ground and playing with the fabric of his trousers. “Right. Well you can tell Stark that my last night of freedom will be spent with our attendees enjoying some invigorating lute music, asgardian wine and the finest, succulent nuts from Vanaheim. There may be naked women only if Romanoff has too much wine and removes her clothes again, but that is not my concern. Understood?” Thor nodded regretfully, his eyes lighting with a final flourish of enthusiasm. “Brother, may we wear the shirts...with the startled cats?” Loki sighed. “Yes, brother...we may wear the shirts with the startled cats.”

Fluff Tags (reduced)

@lokischambermaid @lady-rose-moon @loopsisloops @xorpsbane @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @nightshadelm @michelleleewise @mochie85 @theaudacitytowrite @holdmytesseract @sititran @mcufan72 @yelkmelk @awkward-and-indecisive @holymultiplefandomsbatman @muddyorbs @gigglingtigger @demoiseller @chantsdemarins @lollywritesstuff @evelyn-kingsley @wheredafandomat @simplyholl @homesickcassie @ladylovesloki @lokikissesmyforehead @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @vbecker10

[toomanyrobins2]

sweeter than honey pt. 13

Summary: Y/N “Honey” Cirillo has been many things in her short life: an unwanted child, a dancing prodigy, a teen mom, and now she’s a replacement bride. After her sister runs away, Y/N is forced to take her place and marry into the Barton family. The Three Families are already dealing with enough. With the murder of a high-ranking member and HYDRA continuing to make threats, they need this marriage to go ahead without a hitch. Can Clint and Y/n find happiness or is there too much against them?

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Content warning: Arranged marriage, kinda kinky sex, gun violence, murder

Notes: Y'all are not gonna like me...

series masterlist // next part

“You’re the weak link, Clint.”

All of the men were in the offices at the Ivory. He looked around at Tony, Peter, George, Bucky, and Steve. Feeling the anger start to grow in his stomach as he snapped, “What the fuck does that mean!”

George spoke in his irritating, always calm, voice, “It means that your brother is dead. You don’t have a son to groom for the position. Out of the three of us, you’re the easiest to snuff out.”

Steve sighed heavily from his position against the bookcases. Leaning against them, his arms were folded across his chest and his look on his face was all business, “Them killing Barney wasn’t just a hope that they got one of us. It’s calculated, all of it. They were waiting in that hospital room for Y/N.”

Clint felt the familiar boulder on his chest get heavier. It had been a week since the attack at her job and it had taken everything to convince Y/N that she should take a leave of absence from work. This was the first time Clint had left his girls at home and he was requiring two guards to be posted outside the house at all times. He was taking overprotective to new heights as the threat continued to loom. It had taken bribing Nola to convince his mom to move in with them temporarily. The little girl had looked up at her Nana E and with her best puppy dog eyes, had cajoled his mother into it. As a thanks, Nola was the proud new owner of a Rottweiler named Nancy. She’d picked out the pink color herself and proclaimed that the dog would be named after her favorite book: Fancy Nancy.

When she was introduced the new addition, Y/N had burst out in laughter when she saw the pained look on Clint’s face when he had to say the name. Sliding an arm around him, she grinned, “You told her she could name the dog whatever she wanted. Think of it as an exchange. She wanted a puppy and you came home with a fully grown, fully trained dog. You had to have known a five-year-old girl wasn’t to pick a scary name.”

“Nancy, sweets…Nancy. Our vicious guard dog is named after a fictional kid who runs around in tutus.” At that, she dissolved into giggles again.

Honey managed to get her laughter under control and pulled Clint into a sweet kiss, “Don’t ruin the moment. You’re going to be Nola’s favorite person now that you’ve got her a dog. Enjoy this moment.”

Back at the house, Y/N walked into the study and perched on the side of his desk, her skirt riding up. She quirked an eyebrow at Clint and he groaned, burying his fingers in his hair, “Not now, Honey. I’m in charge now, don’t you get it? I’m the only one who can do this. They never should’ve gotten this close to you.”

“No, you’re not. There are two other leaders and countless friends who are waiting in the wings to help. You’ve just got your head so far up your ass that you can’t see it.”

“Y/N...” Clint gestured weakly at the stacks of papers.

“All I’m asking for, is for you to take a break,” she hopped off the desk and wrapped an arm around him, using her blunt nails to scratch his head. She couldn’t help but smile at how he shifted closer to her touch, “Eat some food. Catch some shut eye. You’re stressing me out.”

“Will you keep scratching my head if I take a nap?”

Y/N giggled, “Yes.”

“Deal.” They walked out into the kitchen and living room. He realized there were already two bowls of soup on the counter and he whirled around, “How did you know I’d agree?”

“Because I’m persuasive. And I'm quickly learning you’ll do anything if I scratch your head.”

They sat on the couch and by the time both bowls were empty, Clint was struggling to keep his eyes open. Y/N had him rest his head on her lap and started to scratch again. Within two minutes, he was snoring softly.

As soon as he’d woken up, Clint felt like a new person. It was probably the most sleep he’d gotten in days and it showed. He dropped a heart-stopping kiss to Y/N’s lips before leaving for the Ivory again, “I have a plan, sweets. I think it’ll work.” Clint thought she had a weird look on her face, but he figured it was just nerves.

As soon as he arrived, everyone kept giving Clint weird looks and he couldn’t figure out why. He’d asked Nat if something was wrong but she’d smiled and told him no. It took another hour for someone to turn to him and ask what the hell was on his face. Pulling out his phone and seeing what Nola and Y/N had done, he immediately video called them. “You took advantage of me! You lulled me with head scratches and then you two demons drew on me!”

“It’s been two hours. How have you not noticed?”

“Maybe because I trusted my wife to be a loving spouse who didn’t make me look like the Monopoly Man!”

Y/N couldn’t keep the laughter in any longer and she was clutching her stomach as she tried to catch her breath. Nola appeared on camera with a big grin on her face, “Hi, Clint! I like your ‘momacle’!”

Any chance of staying annoying was gone as Y/N had to explain that it was actually pronounced monocle. “Wife. How am I supposed to remove this?”

“I guess you’ll have to come home and find out.”

“So this was the plan all along?”

“No but it worked out very well. See you soon, Mr. Monopoly!”

Clint shook his head and quickly made his exit, “I have a wife I need to get my revenge on.” He drove at record speeds and burst through the door, “Honey, I’m home.”

Y/N appeared around the corner, a shit-eating grin on her face, “Hi! How was the bank?”

He walk towards her, but she mirrored each step and he was forced to rush forward and grab her wrist. Pulling her into him, he playfully scowled down at her, “You’re not funny.”

“You’re right," she gave him a cheeky grin, "I’m hilarious.”

“Get this off of me.”

“Yes, dear,” Y/N pulled him up the stairs to the bathroom and forced him to sit on the toilet. She rummaged around for some makeup remover. Before she could wipe it off, Clint grabbed her thighs and had her straddling him. It was hard to focus on the soaked cotton ball wiping away the remnants of eyeliner as he hand tightened around her waist.

As soon as she was done, Clint pulled her even closer so that they were chest to chest, “You owe me. I want a kiss for my pain and suffering. A real one.” His lips were slightly chapped, his face rough since he hadn’t taken time to shave. The familiar taste of coffee hit her as his arms wrapped around her, one hand traveling down to grab her ass. A moan ripped through Y/N as Clint ground against her. Standing up, he used the fact that she was off-balance to spin her around so that she was looking into the mirror. Flipping her dress up, Clint smacked her ass, “Such a bad wife, sending me to work looking like that. Maybe I should leave you here,” running a finger down her underwear he grinned, “Dripping wet and so needy.”

“Clint, please.”

“I love when you beg. Always sounds so sweet.”

Ripping her panties away, she gasped, “Dammit, Clint, that’s the second pair today.” Clint looked entirely unrepentant as he pushed two fingers into her. Whimpering between her words, Y/N spoke again, “Are you trying to ruin every pair I own?”

The only answer he gave was to kick her legs apart. Lining his cock up, their eyes met in the mirror and Clint loved how Y/N looked in this moment. Lips swollen from their kiss and her eyes heavy with desire. Finally, he spoke, “The thing is sweets, if you don’t wear panties, I can do this.” And with that he slammed into her. Y/N’s hand hit the mirror with the force of his thrusts. Pulling the front of her dress down, Clint caught one her tits in his hand. Rolling his hips in time with his fingers, he watched as Y/N dropped her head to her arms. “I don’t think so,” winding his fingers through her hair, he pulled her head back up so that she had to see them in the mirror. In less than a minute, her noises were almost too loud and he knew the other members of the house might hear them. Pulling the hand out of her hair, Clint shoved the two fingers that had been buried inside her before into her mouth.

Y/N could taste herself on his digits and felt dizzy with all of the sensations. Clint was slamming into her, the sound of skin slapping echoing off the walls as he continued to rain praise down on her, telling her how good she felt. The heat in the room was growing suffocating as they both tipped over the edge. Putting his arms on either side of Y/N so that he didn’t crush her, Clint pressed his forehead against her back. They both were trying to catch their breath as he pulled out of her. When she tried to stand, he put a hand on her back so they she’d stay bent over and could watch as his cum spilled out. “Fuck, aren’t you just the prettiest thing, sweets?”

Y/N wiggled in embarrassment, “Clint, please—“

“Shhhh, I’m admiring my work.”

At that, she laughed and spun around, “You are ridiculous.”

Clint pulled her into another kiss before smiling down at her, “Says the woman who turned me into Mr. Monopoly.”

Y/N grabbed his hand, “Come on and join me in the shower, Monopoly Man.”

By the time the duo came out of the bathroom, they both resembled prunes. Wrapped in one of the towels, Y/N walked towards Clint’s closet as she planned to take one of his shirts. Turning to ask him which one she could take, something shattering like glass startled her. Clint came flying out of the bathroom and pulled Y/N to the ground. Finally, she felt the sharp pain in her shoulder and the warmth of her blood underneath her soaking into the carpet, “Clint…”

[bokettochild]

The Worries and Woes of Heroic Hair

Y'all were busting out hair headcannons before I left, so I saved a few and wrote a fic for them.

Featuring:

Pre-maturely grey Twilight

Curly haired Legend

Long haired Four

(As well as a reference to long hair Sky)

Warriors had gained the unfortunate title of ‘pretty boy’.

In a group of beautiful men and boys that literally sent women swooning, no matter what world they were in, he’d somehow been labeled the “pretty” one. Never mind he was more mature looking than half of their number. Never mind that Legend and Hyrule looked like a pair of porcelain dolls hand painted by a master artist. Never mind that Wild literally had half of his world falling heels over head for him. No matter how many women in the War of Ages had gushed about the adult Hero of Time (much to Mask’s annoyance). And sure, let’s just forget that Wars had heard not one, but two princess’s complimenting Twilight’s ass.

Yeah, okay, he was the pretty boy, sure.

Maybe that was because he was the only one in the group that actually had any understanding of a little thing called personal hygiene! Honestly! Had no one introduced the vet to a bathtub when he was younger? Or Wild to a hairbrush? And Hyrule... oh Hyrule...

Honestly, it was a pain, trying to not say something to his brothers that might be taken as rude or offensive. At least his own two boys were a bit better. During the war he’d pounded some sense into their heads after scrubbing their ears clean enough that they could actually hear him when he spoke, and Time and Wind both showed some (although not much more than the others) level of personal grooming, even if it was the basic wash and brush that Wars had required of all of his soldiers.

The others though? He had been beginning to think they might be hopeless, but then he’d had a chance to do something about it.

“Wars?”

“Hmm?” Bright blue darted up from the journal Warriors had been writing in, meeting Wind’s pout with a soft chuckle at his baby-faced brother. One day, Wind would be as grizzled and scruffy as his grandfather (would be his grandfather) but for now he would take him time teasing the kid for his baby-face. After all, it wasn’t like he’d be getting another chance to get revenge on the man who’d teased him up to his wedding day for his “lack of masculine charm”.

“My hair is knotted. In the back.” Wind didn’t even bother waiting for a signal, instead just plopping down in the captain's lap and dropping a brush by his knee. And really, with how the war had gone, Warriors should have expected that.

Any injury that impeded movement meant Wars was helping his two boys with whatever was needed during the war, and near the top of that list had been brushing hair. Broken arm or sprained wrist or whatever Hyrule had diagnosed it as (he’d been a bit too wrapped up in helping hold Wild still so he and Legend could treat the kid’s crushed hand to hear the healer’s final word), he was always happy to help the younger hero sort out his problems.

At least Wind let him help, instead of sending him scandalized looks and rude signs at the mere mention of a bath, like Legend did, or simply darting away like Hyrule.

“Wind,” Sky frowned slightly. “You didn’t have to disturb Wars, any of us would have been willing to help.”

The sailor cocked a brow, leaning back into his touch as he worked over the knot with nimble fingers well accustomed to working through tangled golden curls. “Says the Hero of Eternal Bedhead.”

Crystal blue eyes darted up to messy bangs. “Is it really that bad?”

“Yes.” Sailor and captain deadpanned together, matching grins on their faces as they stared at the Skyloftian.

“Oh feathers.” Sky huffed, running his hands through his hair and looking at the two expectantly. “Is that better?”

Wind snorted. “Sky, you need a hairbrush for your bird’s nest.”

“But,” Sky cocked his head like a confused puppy. “I don’t have a bird’s nest?”

“He means that your hair is a mess.” He chuckled, pausing in his work to pat the ground at his side. “Here, I’ll do you next, ‘kay?” And bless Sky for being a patient and reasonable person, because at the very least the Skyloftian just sauntered over easily and sat hot-cross-buns on the ground beside him, watching lazily as he worked at the sailor’s messy hair.

“It’s not that bad,” The Sailor huffed. “You can’t honestly be taking this long.” The kid wasn’t fooling him though, Wind was leaning into the touch, almost slumped against his chest in a boneless pile of teenager.

“You’re dry as a desert.” He scolded softly in response, rubbing some of the bristly hair between his fingers. “I’ve told you salt water dries your hair out, you need to take care of it or it’ll never grow out properly.”

Wind shifted awkwardly. “I didn’t have time. I did try, I mean it! It just... We’re always so busy and...”

His hands were already reaching for his pack. “You’re lucky mine dries out too. I’ll need to get more in the next town, but I think this oil can last us both long enough to get you some again.”

“Oil?” Sky frowned thoughtfully. “What for?”

“Split ends and dry hair.” Came the practiced answer as he rubbed the substance in question over his hands and began to card it through the sailor’s parched curls. “I suppose you could say it’s like with birds. They have to oil their feathers to stay healthy, right?”

“Oh! Okay, yeah, that makes sense.” The Skyloftian mulled over the concept for a moment. “We need to do that to our hair?”

Long fingers stopped mid stroke, royal blue blinking slowly in the clueless sky child’s direction. “Oh, you poor, clueless bird-boy you, your hair must be parched!”

Wind’s giggles shook them both, but Sky simply looked hurt. “I try. How was I supposed to know?”

Fingers slick with hair oil curled to point at the other hero. “I am massaging this stuff into your thirsty scalp right now. Wind, move.”

The sailor tumbled, giggling from Wars’ lap, leaving Sky to stare down at the captain’s crossed legs. “I’m- Warriors I am not sitting in your lap.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Brush in one hand and bottle of hair oil in the other, Warriors moved to stand behind the Skyloftain. “Just stay right there and let me work, and I swear if someone else tells me to my face that they’re not taking care of themselves- Sky! Look at this!”

The Skyloftian shifted, trying to look for only a moment before huffing. “Warriors, I can’t see the top of my own-”

“When’s the last time you trimmed this?” Brittle tips crinkled under his fingers as he stared at the mess that was Sky’s hair. “Your split ends are horrible!”

“Crimson usually trims it for me.” Came the softly mumbled response, and Wars had to hold back an affronted squawk at the words.

“You’re entrusting the care of your hair to a bird? Sky, my lovely, my dear friend, my brother, what the actual Ladies?”

“He does a good job!”

“If you call this rat’s nest a good job! Honestly, it’s no wonder Legend finally agreed to let you cuddle him, he must feel right at home with this mess!”

“Ouch.” Sky huffed, crossing his arms loosely and pouting.

“That aside,” He began working the first knot out, fluffing Sky’s hair lightly in his fingers. “It’s a good color, nice volume too. Have you ever considered growing it out? Without the split ends?”

“Huh?”

Caramel hair parted easily in his hands, springy and soft despite the brittle ends. “You’d look fetching with long hair, Chosen One. My, imagine what Sun would say if she saw you!” Sky stiffened as the soldier ducked down, voice lowering and eyes glinting with mischief as he whispered in his friend’s ear. “If she wasn’t already swooning at seeing you again, she’d be dizzy at the sheer beauty.”

“Wars!” Long ears twitched, tellingly red as the Skyloftian battled a fierce blush.

But the captain was already lost in his rant, taking pleasure in making Wind continue to giggle as Sky whined softly in protest at his teasing. “I can see it now! You arrive fresh out of battle, sword in hand and hair whipping in the wind, cape swirling like the wings of the goddess herself! She sees you. Your eyes meet. You shoot her one of your dashing smiles and she stumbles back, breathless, and you have to dart forwards to catch her before she swoons away altogether, so bedazzled she is by your handsome visage!” He flourished with a smile, letting oiled locks fall over Sky’s eyes with a laugh as the Skyloftian blushed brighter, not bothering to shift his bangs and instead hiding behind them, trying and failing to hide a pleased smile.

Wind didn’t stop giggling until Sky had had to punch the captain in the leg to make him finally cease the teasing.

“Smithy,” Twilight’s laughter rung through camp as he brushed long bangs out of the smithy’s eyes, the younger hero still smushed against the rancher's side sleepily, headband askew and half hanging in his eyes. The boy’s hair curtained his face, falling back into place the moment Twilight lifted his hand again, producing rumbling laughter form the farm-hand. “Four, you- when in Ordonia’s name did you last trim your hair?”

“’s not that long.” Came the murmured reply as Four pressed his face further into Twilight’s side, nestling closer with an irritable huff. “Leave ‘lone, Twi.”

The smithy might have denied it but... his hair really had grown out.

It wasn’t really that apparent with the headband keeping it back, and Four was decent enough at keeping his hair out of his face. But headbands, no matter how trusty, didn’t stay up forever, and when one was as active as a Hero of Courage, it wasn’t uncommon to find one’s self with their hair swinging loose in battle. Not that most of them minded, Wild kept his hair tied carefully and Legend tucked all of his under a hat, meanwhile the others all had shorter locks that, other than the swishing of their bangs, mostly stayed out of their faces.

Four on the other hand...

Four’s headband had fallen loose into a mud puddle, and until he was able to clean it the smithy had been walking around like a sheepdog, bangs fluffing into his eyes and making the shortest hero huff in an annoyed manner as he kept swiping his bangs aside. Unfortunately, they weren’t long enough to tuck behind his ears, only to hang in his face and send him stumbling over and into all sorts of things with sharp yelps and soft swears as the hero closest to him would have to offer a hand or scoop up the small smithy again.

Wars didn’t say anything, but when Four finally approached him one evening, eyes flickering icy blue as he dashed his bangs out of the way and tugged at the scarf draped around the captain’s neck (the others’ favorite way of getting his attention he had found).

“Hey there, smithy, what’s up?”

“Cut them.” Four huffed, pushing the loose hair back again only to have them drift back over his glinting eyes, and then, as if an afterthought, he tacked on ‘Please?’.

Royal blue darted up to Sky, who smiled on the edge of the campfire, a knowing look in his eyes. “Did Sky tell you I could help?”

“No. I figured that out myself. He just... pushed me.”

Laughter bubbled up in his chest. “Ah.”

“So, can you help? Or do I need to wander around looking like a Mogma?” Sky could be heard muttering across the camp at that, and Four’s ears twitched as he huffed, clearly having taken offense at whatever had been said.

He nodded, a bit unsure why Four glared across the fire at Sky, but willing to help. Oh goddesses, was he willing to help; Four’s hair bugged him nearly as much as Wild’s did, and he had been dying to fix it for the smithy. He wasn’t sure what Sky had said, but he was thankful for the other knight’s willingness to aid him in his battle against poor hygiene, and if he could turn another hero with the power of a good haircut, well! “Anything you have in mind? Just what you had before, or...?”

“Bangs.” Four dropped down hot-cross-buns, just like Sky had the other day, in front of him, arms crossed and expectant as he huffed at his long bangs.

“Right.” His brush and scissors were already sitting at the ready as he reached out to gently push the hair out of his friend’s eyes. “You good?”

“Annoyed.” Four sulked. “I can’t see anything and Twilight has been called me a sheep-dog.” Accurate. “I just want my hair short again, but the last time I cut it, it looked like I was attacked by a cat.” The smithy shivered, clutching at his sleeves as he shook his head, hair falling back into his eyes as he did so. “I just let it grow after that, but the bangs bother me if I can’t push them back.”

“Noted.”

Four’s hair was a bit silkier than the others’, but similarly brittle, although that was likely due to the heat of the forge rather than sea salt and extended time in the sky. He didn’t even bother asking about oiling the locks as he worked, brushing out all of Four’s hair with care and sectioning out the bangs with the same amount of agonizing detail Legend put into his paintings or Wild put into his cooking.

“Hair cut?” Twilight called from across camp.

“You could use one too,” Four huffed, unmoving save for his eyes darted to glance over his shoulder. “Your hair is beginning to look like wolf ears, rancher. Wolfie might take offense that you’re stealing his look and come maul you.”

Chuckles sounded around the camp, Legend wheezing lightly while Time and Wild shared a look. Wars didn’t know what that was about, but he smiled as he worked, humming lightly under his breath as he clipped a bit here and a touch there, releasing the hair to stare at it, adjusting it a bit, taking another section in hand and snipping it, and repeating the whole process.

Four was still as a statue the whole time, occasionally humming along to whatever tune happened to be on Warriors’ mind at the moment, but otherwise as poised and picturesque as a statue as the captain worked over the smithy’s blond locks.

This close up, Warriors was beginning to wonder why they never met any lovely admirers of the smithy, Four was certainly not lacking in the looks department, and had the kid lived in his time he’d find himself having to beat off girls with a stick. Honestly, how was he the pretty boy here?

“Nearly done?” Came the patient hum, and he snapped himself back to reality as he brushed Four’s bangs back into place, trimmed and tidy, along with the rest of his short hair.

“Yep.” The scissors finally came to rest in his lap as he whisked away the cloak that he’d used to catch the trimmed hairs. “My, my, smithy, you almost look as if you were going courting! Legend, lend a man your shield for a tick, would you? Four needs to see his new cut.”

The veteran rolled his eyes, but the shield was offered readily enough when Four trotted his way over, and while the smithy looked a bit surprised that Wars had bothered to braid most of his hair out of the way during the cut, he didn’t look at all displeased.

Wars counted that as a win.

He’d run out of oil a few days ago, and already his hair was beginning to frizz in this thrice-forsaken heat.

Being born with curly hair was nothing of the blessing his mother had made it out to be, no matter how she liked playing with her ‘baby boy’s’ hair. Of course, his beloved liked it too, but he was going to chalk that up to being a woman thing, curls were a pain if they weren’t on kids, especially if they were eon him.

Thank Hylia that Lilith had taught him to straighten it all out, he would have been driven half out of his mind if he hadn’t been able to control it on his way through basic, and the teasing would have been so much worse than it actually had been.

As was, the captain was only too happy when they next came to his Castletown, and after he’d made sure the others were settled in the castle with his cousin, he’d gracefully made his exit and headed out to the town. Getting through the streets was a pain, his armor and scarf giving him away as the hero and practically inviting the whole market to start competing for his attention, along with the hundreds of shoppers who surged close with questions and thanks and admiration. Not for the first time, Warriors found himself thankful that he handled crowds better than many of his fellow soldiers, and even if all the attention was a bit much, he wasn’t overwhelmed like poor Wild would have been.

Oh heavens, the day they finally figured out how to explain the portals and heroes nonsense to the public to excuse the sudden aging of the Hyrulian Hero’s child, Wild was likely going to have to start wearing a hood or something when they went into town.

The dye shop was a way into the market, and it had taken quite the bit of fancy footwork to avoid stepping on anyone as he’d answered questions and received thanks from the enthusiastic, if not slightly push, people of Hyrule. If he closed the door of the shop after him with a sigh of relief though, that was between him and Gyssel, the shopkeeper.

“Back again, Link? Same materials as the last time?”

“If you please.” He nodded with a smile. “Though I might have a bit of a glance around, I’ve a friend in need of a few things.”

The old woman nodded with a chuckle. “Right then. Oh, and if you see those two lovely gents who popped in here earlier, would you be willing to lend ‘em a hand? Poor dears looked lost as two minish in a fairy pond when they stumbled in here, but I’ve been batting a thousand with the customers all day and haven’t had a chance to pop over and offer help. You know the shop same as I do, so, if you have a moment, could you check in on them while I wrap your things?”

“Of course.” He nodded, smiling his best as he moved towards the back wall.

The other voices in the shop were mostly those of tittering ladies and mischief making pranksters, all too young and too high to belong to the ‘lovely gents’ that Gyssel had been speaking of, and it wasn’t hard to trail the rumble of a man’s voice to the back of the store where the hair dyes were. He grinned as he rounded the corner, but froze when he found himself face to face with a startled, and maybe somewhat abashed rancher.

“Twilight?”

“Warriors?”

“Shit, Wars is here?”

Royal blue darted down to meet the snapping violet of the veteran. “Legend? What are the two of you doing in here of all places? Are you lost?”

“No.” Legend huffed, foot tapping agitatedly at the floor as he gnawed his bottom lip, a sure sign of awkwardness if one knew the vet.

“What are you doing- oh.” Twilight’s face faded from confusion to understanding. “You’re the city boy, of course you shop in joints like this.”

He cocked a brow, hands coming to rest on his hips as he stared down the two other heroes. “Says the guy who’s been wandering around looking for something long enough the owners worried. Honestly, what could the two of you even need?”

Midnight and violet glanced warily at each other, and to his surprise, twin flushed lighted his friend’s faces as Legend had crossed his arms and Twi had rubbed at his neck.

“Hair dye.” The rancher admitted softly.

“And shampoo.” Legend had tacked on.

Warriors let his eyes blow wide an overdramatic gasp sounding in the small corner of the shop as he rested a hand on his collar. “Why, vet, you don’t mean to tell me you’re planning on actually taking a bath, are you! My heavens, what next? Will Hyrule somehow produce a wedding cake in time for Time and Malon to announce they’re having a baby?”

“They’re what!?!” Twilight yelped, sounding, ridiculously, like a dog that has just been kicked.

“I’m teasing, rancher.” He chortled. “Trust me, if Time knew of such a thing, he wouldn’t have shut up about it. Miss Malon’s still trim and terrifying as last we saw her; I have little doubt.” At the rancher’s breath of relief, he shook his head. “Honestly though, soap? Vet, last I checked-”

“It’s hot.” Legend interrupted, avoiding meeting his gaze by rolling his eyes.

“And?”

“And in case you didn’t know, our resident vet is a-”

“Don’t say it!” Legend huffed, glaring at Twilight and tugging his blue cap tighter over his head.

Come to think of it, Legend hadn’t taken the baby-blue cap off in ages...

“Is a what?”

Twilight looked down warily at the seething veteran, face twisted up between a playful grin and a wary frown, as if he didn’t yet know whether he wanted to tease and face the vet’s wrath or hold his tongue and avoid making a scene.

“Look,” Warriors sighed, glancing between the two country boys with a sigh. “I won’t tease at all, alright? But the sooner you own up to whatever nonsense you did to yourself, the sooner we can find you what you need and get ourselves out of here.”

The flush on Legend’s face darkened, eyes darting down as the vet shuffled his feet, and Wars found himself being reminded that for all the vet’s snark and sass, he really was as much of a kid as Wild and Wind were, just more accustomed at having to act otherwise.

Thin fingers rubbed at the rings on the vet’s pale hands. “Well, you see- that is- augh!”

Something inside him blossomed with warmth, a smile stretching across his face. Golden Three, Legend really was just an awkward teenager, wasn’t he? He even stumbled over his words when he was embarrassed, just like Time used to. Of course, Time had been twelve and Legend was nineteen, but that was beside the point.

“So-” The vet was nearly pouting as he struggled with his words, fingers rubbing steadily at his rings as he avoided Wars’ gaze. “You know how Ravio has curly hair?”

“Yes.”

“And you know how Ravio and I are- uh, each other's- reflect-”

A laugh bubbled out of his throat unexpectedly as he reached out to ruffle what could be seen of the vet’s frizzy bangs. “You’re a curly top! Why didn’t you say sooner?” Legend glared at him with a huff, but violet didn’t shift to indigo, so he knew it was all just an act. “Wind and I are too, I was actually in here to get some things for the two of us, and Sky too. I can help you as well if you don’t mind, just let me-” He motioned to the blue cap that was pulled snig down to Legend’s ears.

The vet huffed, but reached up to finger the blue fabric. “You won’t laugh, right?” Stern eyes met his own.

“Of course.” He smiled reassuringly.

Legend’s gaze searched his face for a moment, wary, but open, and even if it made him uncomfortable (the odd glint of gold at the edges of the vet’s eyes was a bit unsettling) he withstood it until Legend nodded, seemingly to himself, and pulled off his cap.

Pink curls spilled down to the vet’s shoulders as a bright blush colored pale cheeks. Twilight didn’t make it any better by reaching over to ruffle the vet’s head, chuckling soft and warm and surprisingly fond as Legend hissed back at him.

“Can I- that is- do you mind if I touch? I can help you find what you want better if I know what you need.”

A stiff nod.

The pink hair was just like fairy-floss, but less sticky (still dirty though) and he had to remind himself what he was doing once he got his fingers in it. A quick check at the texture and ends of Legend’s hair, as long as a quick check of the scalp and roots told him all he needed.

“Whatever dye you used to do this messed you up, vet. Honestly, I don’t know what you were thinking, but you’re dry as a mulduga’s arse. Did you bleach your hair before dying it or something?” There was a murmur in reply, but not anything he could really make out. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said that’s me natural color.” Legend huffed, tensing under his hands. “I bleached it blonde a few months back, but no, I didn’t dye this shit, it just happened.”

Twilight, very unhelpfully, giggled.

Warriors blinked. “You have pink hair?”

“Yes.”

He fought the chuckle that built up in his chest, but it did little good as he ruffles the frizzy curls and let Legend replace his hat. “Alright then! Well, I’d avoid bleaching again if I was you. The pinks out and it’s healthier if you give it a rest between dyes. I have to admit though,” He settled his hands on his hips and looked between the two other heroes with a smirk. “I never took either of you two as the sort to dye your hair.”

“Throws off the guards.” Legend huffed, tugging his cap back over his hair and making Warriors wince. Ah yes, Legend’s Hyrule’s guards.

“Fair enough. I can find you something to help with the drying out and dye damage. Twi though...” He frowned, stroking his chin in thought. “Why do you even need hair dye? Trying something new?”

Now it was the rancher’s turn to look embarrassed, rubbing at his neck and ruffling his hair. “No, actually. I jist need- rather- want? I guess? I-”

Legend huffed, patting the rancher’s arm in a rare show of compassion. “He’s been greying early and it’s making him self-conscious. I told him we could look for a dye to hide it, since he didn’t want to go about stealing Time’s position as the resident Old Man.”

Oh. Well, that made sense. “Right! Fair enough. So, you want your natural shade, yes?” At the rancher's nod he pressed on, clapping his hands as he listed what they needed. “So, hair oil, some dye, and shampoo for Legend, preferably meant for damaged and curly hair. Anything else?”

Even though the two shook their heads, they all walked out with a bit more than what Warriors had listed, but despite the fact that Legend complained about it all, no one seemed to mind too much when he pulled the three of them together after the others had gone to bed and helped show them had to use the various toiletries without making too very much of a mess. It cost a pretty penny to get them all sorted, but Legend was clean, Twilight was a brunette again (the silver streaks were rather fetching though, and he’d made sure to make sure Twilight knew that before they dyed it all away) and Wind and Sky had what they needed to prevent their hair drying out again.

And even if it made a sizable dent in his wallet, he’d refused to be paid back. It was worth it anyway, since now he and Legend both had straight hair again (and the vet had actually washed!).

He could see now why Wild and Hyrule liked playing with their respective mentors’ hair though, it was almost addictive.

Time took one look at the three youngest and groaned, and Warriors almost echoed the action.

“What were you three even doing?” His now-eldest huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh as he tried not to look at the three teens, all of which were covered in mud and grass stains, and only looking slightly remorseful, despite their horrid clothing and scraped faces.

Had it been anyone but Wild and Wind, Wars would have sat back and watched as karma paid her long overdue visit to the mischievous mask-loving hero, but since it was his kids that caught up in paying back the silver in his own hair, Wars had to stand with Time and try his very hardest not to chuckle at the sight before him.

It took no trouble at all to picture Mask sitting, unrepentant, amid the other youngsters, a challenging look on his face as he dared the captain to even try and ground him for running off again.

“We were exploring.” Hyrule grinned sheepishly, rubbing at the mud that had dried on the side of his neck. “We um-”

“We fell in a swamp.” Wild snorted, wrinkling his nose and shaking some gunk from his hands with a pout. “Even I think we stink.”

Time’s lips twitched, brows struggling to remain in a scowl as he answered, voice wavering with a hint of laughter that made Wars smile to himself. “Is that so, Cub?”

“We smell like boko guts.”

“Or boko crap!” Wind cackled, the only one not soaked in swamp goo but instead spattered with ordinary mud that came from likely tripping and falling in the dirt from laughing too hard.

“Bathe.” Time chuffed, shaking his head fondly. “All three of you. Rivers there and I’m sure Wars has soap aplenty to help.” Hang on, what? Time’s eye met his own, blinking- winking? with a bright and shit eating grin. “Have fun with you sons, dad.”

Oh Ladies, Karma messed up again, didn’t she?

“Mask, I swear-” He growled, glaring at his- was Time his eldest now? His middle child still? The youngest since he’d been the last to join the family?

“Don’t, you’ll set a bad example.” The overgrown forest gremlin chuckled, walking away with a condescending pat of the shoulder.

Some things really never changed, huh?

“Right then.” the captain turned to glare stillness back into the three youngsters, two of which were already trying to sneak away, and the third- of thank Hylia for Wind, the kid was standing at perfect attention with a smirk on his face that screamed ‘I’m the eldest and I’m about to watch my little brothers get scolded and I’m going to enjoy every second of it’, snotty little salt-bathed brat. “Jump in or I punt you.”

Hyrule and Wild exchanged a look, a sure sign of danger, and both sprinted in opposite directions.

He huffed a laugh. Amateurs. Mask and Wind had run him ragged during the war, but once you’ve fought to pre-teens on the daily, there's nothing a pair of teenagers can pull on you that will truly surprise you or throw you off. It was the work of moments to have Wild slung under one arm (wolf pups, honestly, Mask was the same way) and Hyrule by the back of his collar (Wind’s customary position).

“H-how?” Both boys stammered.

“Experience, mud moblins.”

“Do I weight anything to you?” Wild stammered, staring up at him with wide blue eyes.

The grin on his face was easier than usual in situations like these, but then again both teens had given up fighting against him sooner than the last two had ever done. “Hardly. You’ve always been a lightweight.” And with those words he promptly administered a light kick to Hyrule’s lower back, knocking the kid floundering into the stream, and following up with a well-practiced toss that send Wild rocketing in after.

Wind, already stripped down to his shorts and standing waist deep in the water, raised his hands with a shit eating grin. “Six out of Ten, Wild.” The little sea monster called to a spluttering Wild as the kid surfaced, only his face peeking above the surface as he treaded water with a pout. “You need to work on your form, but otherwise- ack!”

A wave splashed up from Hyrule’s direction and Wild sent an appreciative grin the other boy’s way while Wind’s grin melted into a playful one, eyes glinting dangerously.

“Oh, that’s it! You’re just asking for trouble now! Never start a water battle with a pirate, you two, you won’t like how it ends!”

Another, mischief filled, glance was exchanged and both feral heroes descended on the young sailor. It was like watching cucco’s descend on a bokoblin, and Warriors watched with laughter bubbling in his chest as he stripped off his gunk-stained tunic, courtesy of the mud-covered boys he’d wisely decided to pick up, and moved on to his chainmail. The sound of the three youngest heroes' shrieking and shouting sweet music to his ears as Time and the other older heroes made camp just off of the riverbank, teasing each other and generally messing around.

“Wars, why are you- are you joining us?” Wild cocked his dripping head with a curious look as he watched him.

The undershirt slipped off easily as he waded into the stream’s center. “Of course, you two got me muddy too after all, and it’s not like I trust y’all to actually clean up by-” At the slowly spreading grins on the faces of the three, the captain realizes his mistake. “I don’t trust you all to clean up properly, so I’m-”

“Warriors said ‘y’all’!” Wind chortled, eyes glinting madly as a grin stretched over his face. “Oh boy! Just wait ‘till I-”

“Slip of the tongue.” He clipped back, hands settling on his hips as he stared down the three teens. “You tell Twilight about this and I will personally wash your mouth out with soap.”

“You’re the one who said it!” Hyrule pointed out.

“And whoever tells the rancher is committing a verbal atrocity that will only lead to far more in the future.” He huffed. “No one tells, you hear me?”

Wild looked between the others, brows furrowed and lips pursed as he took in Wind’s triumphant grin and Warriors’ scowl. “What’s wrong with saying ‘y’all’?”

The captain staggered back dramatically, hand on his chest and a horrified expression on his face as he stared at his son. “No! Never say that word! That word is an abomination!”

“What word?” Hyrule cocked his head, eyes glinting knowingly, but the captain failed to recognize it in time.

“’Y’all’!” He spat with contempt. “We do not say ‘y’all’ in this house! ‘Y’all’ is a cursed word and the next person who says it is-” - ‘Is on Mask watching duty’ was his go to consequence, but that wouldn’t exactly work right now; Time was a bit old to actually need a supervisor- “is on clothes washing duty with Legend.” He settled on at last, choosing the chore that everyone except, surprisingly, the veteran minded.

“Say the man who just said it four times in a row.” Wind teased, darting out of his grasp with a wide grin.

“Wind! I was trying to see how many times I could make him say it!” Hyrule huffed, pouting at his brother adorably.

“I still don’t get it.” Wild grumbled. “It’s a word? There’s nothing wrong with it as far as I know, ‘y’a-” The captain’s hand was clamped around the kid’s mouth before he could finish his sentence.

“Let's just not.” Warriors huffed; he was beginning to mourn Twilight’s mentor position at the moment. Fortunately, Wild was willing enough to still in is hands and not push the topic, unlike the other two who just egged each other on with ever widening grins. “Right.” He rolled his eyes. “First one with a clean face gets the strawberry scented soap; go.”

Silence fell as nothing save splashing rang over the stream as faces ducked beneath the water, all three boys falling for his favorite trick of all time. Heck, even the old man would probably still cave to the offer of strawberry soap, even now that he was an adult, and Wars couldn’t blame him at all; strawberry scented bubbles were the best bubbles and Twilight and his goat-milk soap could go sniff a skunk if they wanted to contest that.

It took hardly any time at all for all three to emerge, fresh faces and glowing, three sets of eyes al sparkling up at him as a warm chuckle blossomed in his throat. Naturally, he gave the promised soap to all three, citing the ‘I can’t tell who finished first so you all win’ excuse that Grandfather had taught him ages ago.

Wind dutifully set about scrubbing himself clean, and in the meantime, he guided the less experienced duo. “Take so much,” He dolloped a generous potion into Hyrule’s cupped hands. “And rub your hands together, yes, just like that, work it up to a nice lather and just scrub it all over. Take care you get the smelliest bits first so you don’t run out of soap before you get there, yeah?” Both forest children nodded, dutifully following his instructions as he moved to help scrub the traveler’s sopping curls.

It was an easy pattern to fall into, scrubbing the two heads with especial care to remove any sticks and twigs he found along the way. Hyrule was the easier of the two, but Wild held still better while he worked, almost melting under his fingers as he messaged suds into his son’s long locks, a light smile playing over both their faces as he worked, content to sit in the cooling water of the stream as the sun began to set, hands buried in his kid’s long hair as he worked out mud and filth and who knows what else.

Rinsing the sweet-scented bubbles started out innocently enough, but Wars was given a front row seat to watching an accidental splash descend into a full-on war on the water as he scrubbed his own hair clean, and well, if he joined in once he was finished, well, someone had to show Wind that he wasn’t the only hero with some experience on the water.

Wars sighed as he watched Time stirring quietly on his bedroll.

Honestly, his middle kid (he’d finally settled on letting Wind retain his position on oldest, since there was no way Time could be the eldest brother with his gremlin behavior) was something of an idiot. Oh, he loved all three of his boys dearly, but Time was an ass and everyone who knew him well knew it (except maybe Twilight, but that guy was an ass too).

Time hadn’t been sleeping recently, and it was easy to see in the dark bags around his eyes and the almost drifting expression on his face at nights. It was for lack of trying either, the kid- man? - the hero would settle down on his bedroll every night same as the others, but even with sharp eyes shut tight and blanket pulled to his ears, the ‘Old Man’ couldn’t lie still for more than thirty minutes, constantly shifting and fidgeting on his bedroll even as the other heroes steadily dropped off to sleep.

It was just the two of them now, the captain on watch and their leader trying to pretend he was asleep with a scowl on his face.

He was scratching again.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” war clapped his hands against his knees and pushed himself p, staling over to stand over the largest of the bedrolls and staring down at the lump within. “What’s up, Sprout? You normally snore like a hinox all night long, what’s eating you?”

A single blue eye stared up at him wearily. “If I knew, I would have killed it by now.”

Oof, bad night then. “Do you have any idea what it could be?” He was already settling down next to the group leader’s head, hands reaching to grasp Time’s own and bring them down from where he was, likely unconsciously, clawing at the sides of his face.

“No.” Came the frustrated huff.

“Missing Miss Malon?” He suggested, running his fingers through short blonde hair thoughtfully, mind miles away in a two-story house at castle town as he fell into the all too familiar trap of playing with one of his boys’ hair.

“I thought so at first, and while I do, it doesn’t usually stop me from sleeping.” Time grumbled, staring up at the night sky with pursed lips. “It’s not nightmares or visions either, if anything my dreams have been normal for once.”

“Anxiety perhaps? Are you worrying about the others? Twilight, maybe? Wild?” At the questioning glance he received he shrugged. “Kept me up enough nights, even if you two were there. A bad thing happens once and you're not likely to forget it.”

“Hmm.” Time hummed, leaning unconsciously into his hands and settling on his bed-roll, shoulders falling lax as his single good eyes fluttered softly. “Maybe.”

Whatever it was, it wasn’t bad enough that War’s fingers didn’t put it to rest, and time was asleep in mere minutes, soft snores rumbling over the camp as the captain continued his ministrations, eyes and ears sharp and alert for any disturbance near in within the camp, but body relaxed as he kept the steady rhythm of his fingers through short and silky hair.

When his watch was over though, and it was time to wake the veteran to take his, Wars found himself stuck. Time's fingers were curled tightly in his blue scarf, the man’s head resting easy against his thigh, and any motion small of subtle, would likely send majestic blue fluttering open again with an exhausted air.

Ah well, time to be creative.

Legend grumbled, as usual, at being woken by having his feet touched, and the captain echoed his discomfort as he wrings is sore and likely sprained hand. Time was still asleep though, so there was that at least. Now just to figure out how best to position himself so he could sleep.

Soldier’s experience won over logic, and Wars was asleep in seconds, leaving the camp under Legend’s watch and Time snoozing blissfully at his side.

[dreamdropxoxo]

Tattoo Shop AU - Part 7

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Laurent had miscalculated. It was a mistake that happened only very rarely to him. However, he had completely misjudged how heady it would be to have Damianos’ eyes on him, to see the hunger written all over his face. He stepped closer and reached out with one hand. “Go on, you may touch.” And touch Damen did. He wrapped his hand around Laurent’s wrist and traced his fingers up over the inside of his forearm. He pressed his lips to the paper thin skin over Laurent’s pulse. His heart rate spiked, this was exhilarating. The rising tension between them rushed through his system, made his heart skip a beat.

Laurent buried his left hand in those messy, wonderful curls and pulled Damen pull. However, he didn’t try to pull his arm out of his grasp. Damen’s hold tightened around his wrist.

“You’re very forward, Damianos,” he observed, his tone carefully groomed to convey boredom and light annoyance. “I can’t remember giving you permission.”

Instead of making a joke or offering an explanation, Damen’s lips parted around the words, “I’m sorry,” and Laurent felt heat course through him. 

“For fucks sake, what are you doing to me?” He hadn’t meant to ask that aloud, but now the words were out there and Damen grinned up to him. Pupils blown so wide that they were almost swallowing up his iris completely.

“I could tell you what you’re doing to me, Laurent, in great detail if you so require.” He looked so defiant and challenging and yet docile in Laurent’s hold, that he couldn’t decide if he wanted to put him in his place or encourage him to do whatever he wanted more. Well, he could still decide later.

“Oh, really? Let’s hear what you have to say then and maybe, only maybe, brute, I’ll grant you one thing in exchange. However, you’ll have to manage to excite me. Do you think you can do that?” Again the man surprised him with his answer. 

“Let’s find out.” He smirked up to him and Laurent had to concentrate on his breathing to keep it at a regular rhythm. 

“You make an exhilarating tingle run down my spine whenever you’re looking at me. I want you to look at me always. Do you have any idea how captivating your eyes are? Your focus is like a drug for me. I crave it as soon as you turn away from me.” And that was the last thing Laurent had expected. He had thought Damen would continue to tell him how hot he was, how his ass made him hard or how his mouth made him want to fuck it ‘till his lips were swollen. Instead he was talking about Laurent’s eyes? And he wasn’t done yet. Laurent’s head was spinning. “Your lips look so soft I’m always asking myself how they would feel pressed against my cheek, my mouth, my pulse. Would they be as soft as petals or would they be rough and unexpected? Sometimes my curiosity is almost killing me. I see you and you’re a mystery and I just want to uncover everything about you. When you’re eating or drawing your hands make me want to suck your fingers one after the other because they’re a work of art. I’m weak for you to the point of letting you manhandle me as long as you keep looking at me, keep touching me.” The confession fell from his lips as if it were nothing. His eyes searched Laurent’s face, never once dropping from there. He wasn’t staring at Laurent’s body anymore. Breathing hard, he tilted Damen’s head back even further, exposing his neck.

“Very well, Damianos. What is it that you want?”

Damen’s breath hitched. “Can I ask for anything?”

“Yes. Yes, you can ask me for anything and I will give it to you if I can.” It was foolish to promise something like that. It was stupid and reckless, but Laurent found that with Damen he wanted to be reckless, he wanted to give up a tiny sliver of control because he was sure the other man wouldn’t exploit him.

“Go on another date with me, please.” It was the ‘please’, spoken softly and gently, that made Laurent freeze.

“That’s it? That’s your wish?” He couldn’t believe it. That had to be a joke.

“Yes. Please, I want to go out with you again. I don’t want this to be over before it even started,” Damen sounded urgent. Laurent had no idea what ‘this’ was. He knew there was something between them, but he couldn’t explain what it was exactly. First, he had thought it was nothing but sexual tension. They were both young, attractive, single and obviously interested in each other. At that moment, he knew it was more. This wasn’t just sex or attraction, this was something profound and meaningful and Damen had just handed him the reins to decide what they’d do from this point on.

“Alright. But next time you’re going to lose your shirt.” Damen laughed.

“Fine. I hope you don’t dislike piercings,” he challenged with a raised eyebrow and Laurent raised one eyebrow. 

“If I did, did you really think I’d go out with someone who I met through an appointment with my brother, who’s a piercer?” He loosened his hand in Damen’s hair and the other man made a noise of discontent combined with a laugh. It was startling that he even managed it. Laurent stared at him in surprise and Damen tugged at him gently, making his intentions clear but not forceful in any way. 

Laurent couldn’t keep the indulgent smile from spreading over his lips, before he straddled Damen’s thighs. 

“You’re right. That was stupid of me. The only excuse I have is that you make my brain melt with how hot you are.” And there it was, the cliché pickup line Laurent had waited for. However, timing changed everything. Instead of making disappointment and disgust spread through him like poison it made him laugh and he pressed his mouth to Damen’s cheek. 

“And are they how you imagined?” He asked, lips brushing softly over the other man’s skin.

[sjhanny2000]

Secrets Worth Sharing

A/N: Hey y'all! This is my first Naruto fanfic, which I've also posted on Archive of Our Own. Please be kind and enjoy!

Warning(s): Minor character death, angst, hurt/comfort, intersex characters, arranged marriage, talks/thoughts about abortion/miscarriage

~~~~

Tobirama Senju was a man of many secrets. Well, more like a man that highly values his own privacy and is not as open as other individuals (like his easy-trusting older brother for example). He was not given the privilege of being open with his truths and feelings, having been groomed from birth to be a heartless shinobi who did not allow his emotions to interfere with his performance. His father had been harsh with these facts whilst training and out on the battlefield, blunt and uncaring that Tobirama and his brothers were children and children had no place amongst the battlefield and shouldn’t be expected to take a life without a bat of an eye. Kawarama had only been seven when he was ripped away from this world, so young and full of life, and it had taken everything in Tobirama’s small, lanky eleven pre-pubescent form to not break down much like his elder brother had, to feel such unbridled emotion his surviving otouto had felt. Itama’s death only a year later (sweet, innocent, and healing Itama) wrung him dry of tears, of allowing himself to be so vulnerable when it came to loss because to die ‘in battle was honorable’, at least that’s what their father had said as dirt was piled atop of his otouto’s grave to the right of Kawarama’s. He fought with every fiber of his being to protect what little family he had left, taking hits meant for Hashirama and saving Toka from debilitating blows, creating new jutsus, and putting the needs and feelings of others before his own because he wasn’t supposed to feel, shinobi don’t feel-.

Then, as he stood dutifully beside his anija opposite the Uchiha heirs amongst their fellow clansmen, Tobirama couldn’t help but feel. Moments before he had nearly stolen the life of one Izuna Uchiha and as adrenaline and tension crossed through his ever lanky yet muscular form, the conversation mingling between the opposing clans made his heart thumped against his chest as the two clan heads agreed to peace. Hope fluttered dangerously in his chest as his wine colored orbs searched Madara’s half hidden profile, gazing at those pools of obsidian with caution and reluctance whilst trying to determine whether the Uchiha was speaking truth when he offered his hand in establishing between through blood soaked clans. The time following the mutual surrender of the Senju and Uchiha, of Hashirama and Madara finally obtaining the means of support to create the peace they had dreamed of from a young age as they were forced to bury clansmen and young brothers, was a whirlwind of events, filled with peace talks, negotiations, and making sure his anija did not make a fool of himself. He waited for the other shoe to drop as each party laid out the final agreements, for this foolish dream of peace between the two rivals to come to an end before he began to believe it was true, and much to his surprise and his other clansmen (including his far too optimistic elder brother), the Uchiha set a requirement for concession.

“A Senju heir must marry one of ours, as a show of mutual acceptance of these peace agreements and in means of acquiring extra security for our clan.”

By the time this peace talks came to be, Hashirama and Mito had been married for nearly a year already and with the eldest Senju heir already taken and the other two dead and gone, the responsibility of establishing peace, in ending the unnecessary bloodshed between their respective clans, to honor the unneeded deaths of Itama and Kawarama, fell onto Tobirama’s shoulders. Being placed in such a position with no means of escape or replacement had been both suffocating and frustrating but he knew better than to reject the frail olive branch the Uchiha had set before them. Hashirama had tried to reason with Madara, (“Madara, is this really necessary-?”), and before the Uchiha clan head could even think of a response, Tobirama calmly sealed his fate.

“We agree to the terms you lay before us.”

His readied agreeance shocked not only his brother and cousin but floored the Uchiha delegation, particularly one Madara Uchiha who stared at him like he had grown a second head. Many deemed him one of the greatest haters of the Uchiha, having seen his treatment towards the rival clan on and off the battlefield, but Tobirama truly had no firm and enduring hate and ill-will towards the fire natured shinobi. Yes, he felt hate towards the Uchiha that had slaughtered his brothers but it was not directed towards the entirety of the Uchiha; they had been at war and a shinobi did whatever it took to survive or gain an upper hand, even if it meant killing the innocent. He found himself wondering what Kawarama and Itama would be like as he stood there with determination, arms crossed over his chest with finality. Would they be upset at seeing him agree to practically give himself away as a bargaining chip as a means to obtaining peace? Would they beg for there to be another way, to demand the Uchiha change their mind? Sadly, he would never know and that piece of knowing reality only strengthened his resolve.

Hashirama, placed between a rock and a hard place, conceded to giving away his only living brother away as a means of finally having peace and Tobirama watched as dread and reluctance colored his anija’s tar colored eyes. The plans of this arranged marriage were set and Tobirama found himself coming to look eye to eye with his promised husband and obsidian orbs subtly clashed with his pools of merlot, an unspoken bond now tying them together forever. Upon arriving back at the Senju compound, Tobirama found himself subjected to a nearly hysterical Hashirama, his elder brother demanding why, why had Tobirama agreed to such demands, there had to be another way-! Toka, while significantly more in control of her emotions, had similar demands, her main emotions having been anger and frustration (“There is only enough room for one idiot in this family, little cousin, and Hashirama already has that role covered!”) and after dealing with a depressed Hashirama, Tobirama did his best to soothe his cousin's worries. The only calm and rational person aside from Tobirama himself was Mito, his well-collected and commanding sister-in-law swiftly jumping in and knocking some sense into her blubbering husband and seething cousin-in-law and if she told him that she questioned his intelligence as they parted ways for the night, only the gods and the chirping crickets would know.

With the negotiations finished and the bed made and laid in by both parties, the construction of Hashirama and Madara’s dream village began and with it began his forced courtship with the Uchiha clan head. Hashirama, in an attempt to be intimidating, threatened the apathetic Uchiha with bodily harm if he ever came to harm his “precious otouto”, those his threats fell short for numerous reasons, the largest being that the peace treaty prohibited any violence occurring between the clans. Tobirama was swift in reminding his anija of this fact. Madara and his courtship began with a rocky start, as many arranged marriages do (Hashirama and Mito’s being the rare exception), and the need to be open emotionally, to not hide his emotions and to be the mind and voice of reason always was a difficult task. His betrothed also struggled with this reality, to be vulnerable in a world that ate such an open state with murderous glee, and arguments were had and feelings accidentally stepped on. Two emotionally stunted men together was a recipe for disaster and many watched them with bated breaths, for their engagement to fall apart, for the cautious hopes for peace to shatter into millions of pieces before their very eyes. The weight to succeed weighed heavy on Tobirama’s shoulders and as he stood in the middle of Madara and Izuna’s backyard amidst another argument with Madara, copious amounts of rain hailing from above without restraint as frustration and confusion tormented his soul, it finally forced him to collapse. He shouted at the Uchiha standing a mere few feet away from him under the roof of the engawa, tears racing down his marked face as he shouted himself hoarse, one of the worst storms in the region's history unfolding around them. Madara watched him with irritation, a well-made mask of indifference sitting upon his stoic visage, and as Tobirama finally gave up, when he threw the towel in and allow himself to be vulnerable for the first time in years, the Uchiha’s rough lips were suddenly on his own and suddenly his surroundings, his worries, his fears were gone and replaced with warm comfort.

Their relationship became one of truth and openness from that moment forward, the two of them doing their best to establish a balance between themselves, and unknowingly fell in love along the way. By the time the primary building of Konoha had been completed and their wedding date arrived, Tobirama could confidently (and quite fondly, though no one needed to know this at the time) state that he loved Madara Uchiha. As they exchanged their vows before the clans of the village, with Izuna smirking that ugly smirk of his and Hashirama in tears as his poor wife comforted the weeping fool (“He is taking Tobi away from me Mito!”, “Tobirama is not yours beloved, he is a grown man.”) Tobirama gazed at his husband to be with honest hope and heated cheeks. His heart sweetly ached at hearing Madara say “I do”, at knowing without a doubt in his mind that he was now Madara’s and Madara was his, that he had someone in which he could wholly confide his secrets and feelings in, and Tobirama knew he had been blessed well the moment their lips joined, sealing their marital union as those around them cheered and sobbed in the case of his anija. Their marriage, while lovely, of course experienced its own bumps here and there, particularly on matters of legislation and equality within the village, but Tobirama wouldn’t trade it away for the world because a world without Madara at his side was not worth living in.

Yet, as he stared at the white stick resting within his shaking hands, Tobirama feared that the world they had made was going to shatter at any second. Two lines of crimson glared at him with undenying truth, the feeling of an extra, new source of chakra nestled within his own person only confirming the results within his grasp. He had been born as an anomaly not only in appearance but in anatomicalities as well; the midwife had nearly passed out when she caught sight of not only albinism but his newborn self having both male and female genitalia and his father’s reaction hadn’t been much kinder. Few people knew of his condition and those who did typically accepted him no matter his abnormalities, Madara being no exception to that, and as he found himself happily married and being tasked with teaching the up and coming generation, the Senju found the yearning to have children of his own grow with each hair ruffle.

Tobirama knew the likelihood of someone with his condition, rare as it was, being able to carry a child let only father one and had unhappily accepted that he would never be able to have a child of both his and Madara’s making. With this truth in mind, the two of them still practiced safe sex and were content with the moments of parenthood being a mentor allowed them, never feeling compelled to strive for anything more; well, at least, Madara hadn’t shown any interest of having children of their own. Even with their vigilance and cautiousness, they ended slipping up here and there, having drunk too much sake or simply enjoyed feeling one another intimately, flesh to flesh, and now here Tobirama was, standing alone in their shared bathroom, two seconds from imploding as he internally panicked. How could this have happened? They had been so careful! What was Madara going to think?!

Silent, unshed tears threatened to fall down his pale features, the gravity of the situation at hand weighing down on him without any restraint. Madara and he were busy with their village and clan duties, with Tobirama being the advisor to his idiot brother who had been elected hokage somehow, along with being the Uchiha matriarch, and Madara acting as his other advisor and clan head. They had already been married for two years and were financially and emotionally stable as two shinobi could be and would have no trouble affording the costs that came along with having a child. No, Tobirama worried over whether this pregnancy was even viable and if Madara would want the child growing within him. The two of them were happy and content with their childless life, what if Madara only wanted that? He couldn’t give up his child so easily, the chance of having one in itself was a miracle, but he could never imagine living a life without his dark haired Uchiha. This secret was going to be the literal death of him.

*Knock knock*

Soft knocks from the bathroom doorway ripped Tobirama away from his heavy thoughts, the Senju hurried tucking the test into the pocket of his training pants, calling out swiftly, “Enter!”

He was thoroughly relieved when the calm personage of his sister-in-law appeared in the doorway, a look of caution and soft worry conflicting with her beautiful features as she stepped forward, sliding the door closed behind her.

Comforting pools of inky black washed over his form, the Uzumaki princess coming to kneel beside him, “No one saw me enter. It is just us.”

Relief flooded his system once more, a shaky sigh escaping the albino as he ran a hand through his hair for probably the millionth time in that hour alone, “Thank the gods.”

“If I may ask, what is this sudden need for secrecy Tobirama,” Mito questioned calmly, gazing at him with searching eyes. “Has something happened?”

Here goes nothing…

Slowly retrieving the test hidden within his pants pocket, Tobirama shakily deposited it into his sister-in-law’s hands, and if the situation had been different, Tobirama would have revelled in being able to shake Mito into a state of shock as she was now.

The Uzumaki’s now avid attention shifted from the positive pregnancy test to Tobirama, the redhead murmuring with caution, “Are you certain?”

He gave her a weak nod, his nerves growing with each second. “I can sense another source of chakra developing within me. Its size fits with the time frame of the last time Madara and I slept together without protection eight weeks ago.”

“Does Madara know of this,” Mito replied, face growing stoic once more. His lack of an answer had his brother’s wife sighing, placing the test back within Tobirama’s grip, “I see. I figure this pregnancy was neither planned nor expected.”

Tobirama did his best to reign in his fluctuating emotions, the sensor squeezing his eyes shut, “I presumed having a child of our own would never be a reality, considering our circumstances. We have never discussed having children, Mito; what if he does not want to be a father? I-I cannot just dispose of it.”

Mito shifted her form, a comforting hand coming to rest on his shoulder, “While I cannot speak entirely on your husband’s behalf, Tobirama, I know I can say that he would be over the moon to hear you are with child. Madara treasures the clan children, why would he not adore having his own?”

Both he and Madara treasured the children within the Uchiha clan, spending large amounts of time assisting fellow clan members by babysitting their spawn or teaching them various jutsus. Tobirama had often found himself imagining the dark haired children that often swarmed his husband were their children, excited to see their father after a long day. A reality he never thought possible until now.

Pools of wine, shakened with doubt and worry, came to fall upon Mito’s face of comfort and dignity, “How do I even go about telling him? What if he assumes the child is not his?”

She squeezed his shoulder in reassurance, voice smooth as water and warm as midday sun, “He would have to be stupider than he is now to conclude the child within you is the product of adulterous actions, brother. You simply need to be honest with him, just as you always have been; keeping this secret will only complicate things more.”

“Tobirama, I’m home!”

No, no, no, he wasn’t ready, he-!

It was only Mito’s touch that kept Tobirama grounded in that moment of panic, the Uzumaki stating with confidence, “Some things cannot be kept secret Tobirama. Tell him.”

“Tobirama? Is everything alright -?”

Madara’s familiar figure appeared in the bathroom doorway, the Uchiha’s already concerned face only intensifying as he stopped mid sentence, coming to kneel beside Tobirama with worry, “What has happened?”

Standing to her feet with grace, whilst knocking the pregnancy test out of view, Mito greeted the Uchiha clan head with a small smile, “Nothing that will not right itself in time, my friend. Now please excuse me, I promised my husband of mine that I would have his favorite dish prepared for him before he returns.”

Her gaze shifted to Tobirama with skillful ease, stating calmly, “Have faith Tobirama, all will be well.”

With that, the Uzumaki was gone, and the two men were left to themselves, an awkward silence quickly enveloping their persons due to her absence.

It was Madara who spoke first, the Uchiha taking Tobirama’s bare hand in his gloved one, “Are you alright Tobirama?”

Was he alright? He was eight weeks pregnant with a child he was not even sure had been possible until his discovery, one he was not certain that his husband would want. The Senju had numerous duties to fulfill not just as the advisor to the Hokage and as clan matriarch but also as a sensei to his students; he would not be able to assist them in learning for the following months until the child’s subsequent arrival.

Tobirama swallowed the fear attempting to slither up his throat, hand tightening around Madara’s, “Promise me that you will listen to what I have to say before releasing your judgement Madara.”

“What is going? Tobirama-!”

Steeling himself, Tobirama gave his husband a stern glare, “Promise me.”

Madara shifted uneasily in his position beside Tobirama, answering reluctantly, “I promise to listen.”

An agitated sigh left the sensor, Tobirama doing his best to gather his thoughts, “As you know, I have been experiencing fatigue and bouts of sickness these past few weeks. To better understand the reasons behind my condition, I conducted various tests on myself and whilst running these tests, came across a foreign entity within myself.”

His husband stiffened and moved to speak but Tobirama cut him off before a sound could escape him, “Worried that it was unnatural, I began to run more in depth tests to better understand the origin of this foreign entity.”

“In the end, with my symptoms in mind, I conducted a final test to confirm my suspicions. The results have me anxious about your reaction, because it is something I did not think possible of occurring.”

The clan head gazed at him with wariness, fear present in those beautiful pools of midnight black that Tobirama loves to peer into for hours on end, but Madara’s voice is strong with determination, “Whatever it is Tobirama, we will face it together! Hell, that idiot brother of yours will do everything in his power to fix it!”

A frown formed on Tobirama’s face, the sensor retorting quietly, “This is not something that can be healed Madara-.”

“It cannot hurt to at least try,” Madara shouted, his other hand coming to cup Tobirama’s left cheek. “I refuse to let you die laying down you foolish Senju-!”

Chuckling wetly, tears of anxiety and cautious joy blurred his vision, “I am not dying you Uchiha idiot.”

Confliction of relief and confusion waged on Madara’s personage, “You are not? But you said it was unfixable-!”

Tobirama was quick to cut him off, giving the fiery man a firm look, “If you had let me finish before rudely interrupting me, I was going to tell you that the condition I am in cannot be healed but it will fix itself on its own in seven months time you blockhead!”

Black eyes searched his person, clearly scrambling for answers, and the albino groaned in annoyance, “I swear, you can be as dense as my brother at times! I am trying to tell you that I am pregnant, you imbecile!”

Oh kami, what had he done?

Madara froze in his spot beside Tobirama, staring at him with undetectable emotion, and the sensor instantly was sent into a panic at his reaction, “I know we have never officially discussed having children and I know having a child right now while the village is still so young and with us being so busy is not logical but I want to have this child and I will raise it with or without your approval-!”

Rough lips smothering his own cut him off mid-rant, fiery passion burning brightly in the act of intimacy as his husband’s other hand came to cup his right cheek, and after a few moments of quiet, Madara pulled away, joy shining brightly in his tear-blurred eyes, “How could you ever think that I would not want to have a child with the man I love?”

With that, Tobirama fell apart, silent tears rolling down his cheeks as he timidly replied, “A normal man could never do this.“

“Who said I wanted a normal man,” Madara firmly questioned, eyes stern and passionate. “I married a man who is a genius shinobi in his own right, who also happens to have a condition that has gifted us with a chance to have a child of our own flesh when so many others couples dream of such an opportunity!”

“You are not upset,” Tobirama whispered cautiously.

Madara gave him a shining smile and kissed him once more, tears of his own running down his face as his right hand came to rest on the albino’s flat stomach, “I could never be upset over something like this Tobirama. A child is a gift from the gods; I only pray it has your beautiful mind.”

The Senju stifled a sob at the Uchiha’s confession and Madara rested his forehead against Tobirama’s, allowing him to give his husband soft, comforting kisses.

After a few moments, Tobirama was able to reign himself in, giving Madara a small grin, “Hashirama and Izuna are going to be complete nightmares once they learn I am expecting.”

Scoffing, Madara pulled away, though he didn’t move his hand resting on Tobirama’s abdomen, “Those two buffoons are already nightmares in general. All hell will break loose once they hear they will be receiving a niece or nephew within the year.”

A comfortable silence filled the area for a few minutes before Tobirama spoke once more, “I asked that we do not let anyone know of the baby until at least the twelfth week mark, Mito aside of course; I do not want to get anyone excited in case I happen to miscarry.”

“You are not going to miscarry anything,” Madara stated confidently, moving Tobirama to rest his back against his chest whilst other hand came to join his right one. “But I understand your reasoning and agree to wait until you are ready to share this news.”

Tobirama turned his head to look at his husband, murmuring lovingly, “Thank you Madara.”

His husband pecked his lips, replying fondly, “Anything for you, my husband.”

Some secrets were better worth sharing after all.

[cellsshapedlikestars]

Ok, so it’s probably gonna be a while until the next chapter of help me out (I want to get the second arc mostly worked out before I post anything, like I did for arc one), so I figured I’d share this nonsense little thing I wrote one night while in a melatonin-induced fog.

So here’s a snippet of this Jonsa-tinder-fake-dating fic that I don’t actually have a plot for and therefore may never see the light of day but I liked it so I’m posting it!

(thanks to @jonsa-creatives​ for the header)

.

Can you believe this? Sansa had captioned the screenshot she sent to her friends.

Tinder isn't a thing Sansa does all the time – she and Margaery had set up an account for her two years ago after she and Harry split and she uses it occasionally. Sometimes it's nice looking at guys and even flirting with a few of them, though she's never had the nerve to go through with any meetups (she has left more than one guy on read after even the slightest hint they wanted to take things into the real world).

But this is new - or at least she's never seen it before.

His photo had made her pause in her bored swiping (curled up on her couch, blanket wrapped around her like an old woman, heating pad on her lower back, six different snacks on the coffee table that she had sampled and ultimately decided weren't doing it for her or her uterus). Most men on this app take terrible photos, or choose terrible photos, and honestly, this one is no different. At least he's cropped out whoever he's in the photo with, most guys don't even bother to do that. He's not smiling, holding a beer in one hand with his other arm around the cropped out person that is clearly a woman.

He is pretty, though.

She's gotta say, the man bun, the beard, the flannel shirt, the cheap beer – none of it should be doing anything for her. Maybe it's her hormones all out of whack, but for some reason, she paused on his photo.

It wasn't his photo, though, that made her screenshot the profile and send it in a group text to her friends. Can you believe this?

Jon, 29, it starts. Good, fine. Well within her acceptable age range. But the rest of it...

Looking for a date to a wedding. I'm not kidding. Must pretend to be my girlfriend. Some PDA required (holding hands, etc), but feel free to punch me in the face if you're ever uncomfortable. Or just tell me and I'll stop.

**Warnings**

-the bride is my ex and the groom is my half brother

-I am desperate not to show up alone to my ex's wedding

-my dad is a dick and he WILL try to hit on you

-I'm terrible in large groups, extrovert with good social skills preferred

-this will be a full weekend and it's unclear if I can get a room with two beds this last minute

-did I mention the wedding is the third weekend in May?

-I will buy you a new dress for the occasion. You actually won't have to pay for anything, though now that I type this it sounds like I'm looking for an escort and I think that's illegal?

Sansa stares at the profile for too long. Why has she not swiped left?

The first text from one of her friends comes in, followed quickly by more, her phone buzzing almost constantly.

-Omg do it

-He's hot!

-Ok you HAVE to go to this wedding, it sounds like something straight off of Maury

-Yes! Go and then live tweet it for the rest of us

-Am I the only one that thinks this sounds like a trap? Like she'll actually end up in someone's basement?

-Shhh Mya, you're ruining all the fun

-Free dress! Hot boy!

-I literally NEED to know how the ex & half brother happened. I might die if I don't

-Does he have more photos? That one's too blurry

-By “blurry”, Marg means she can't see if he's fit or not

Sansa switches back to Tinder and sees that he does, in fact, have another photo. It's definitely not the shirtless selfie Margaery is looking for, but it makes something in Sansa's chest tighten. Against her better judgment, she screenshots that, too, and sends it.

-Ok, so you've definitely swiped right on him then?

-Of course she has, when has Sansa ever been able to resist a cute dog? I've literally watched her stop mid convo to cross the street and pet a strangers dog. It's honestly rude

-Was it a match???

-PLEASE FIND OUT HOW THE EX AND THE HALF BROTHER ENDED UP TOGETHER

Sansa's heart is pounding in her chest, because she hasn't swiped on him, either way. And now, for some reason, she thinks if she swipes right and they aren't a match, she'll actually feel shitty about it. But she gathers what little courage she has, bolstered by the glass of wine she had with her snack sampling, and swipes right.

They're a match.

[rueluxprince]

Why Does Jin Guangyao Have So Many Goddamn Ships

This dude. I don’t know what is with him. He can be shipped with so many goddamn people, and you can find something in canon (show/novel/audio drama) to justify it. You like a specific trope? He’ll have a ship that gives it to you. (Lets extrapolate some from canon)

Qin Su/Jin Guangyao: Naive yet headstrong heiress trying to fight on the battlefield and contribute to the greater good. Bit off more than she could chew and was rescued by a gentle and quietly self-assured young man. Romance and comedy ensues as she vows to make him her husband! Flowers! Hijinks! Enlisting quirky handmaidens for advice! Jin Guangshan doesn’t exist in this one!

Lan Xichen/Jin Guangyao: hero saves the beauty, gay edition. Young bookkeeper wants to be worthy of noble young master’s esteem, works his ass off, puts himself in years of danger, finally climbs to the top and now must deal with the “is he or is he not” of romance in politics! Is he or is he not? He’s always at your house and gives you a free pass to his house and draws you exclusive paintings and only attends conferences hosted by you and trusts you completely! But he never says anything! Cue the yearning! The soft touches! Reminders of etiquette! Swooning into strong arms!

Jiang Cheng/Jin Guangyao: reluctant and accidental co-parents reluctantly and accidentally fall in love in the long years of raising a precocious nephew into adulthood. The kid turned out surprisingly okay, with a commendably hard moral backbone. One realizes it’s nice to have a perpetually angry grape ready to blow up in your defense. The other realizes someone closest to him is already fulfilling all his marriage requirements and he didn’t even know it! Domestic bliss! Cute kids! Internal struggles of sexuality! The italicized oh!

Nie Mingjue/Jin Guangyao: Noble and righteous leader recognizing and promoting downtrodden but talented beginner –> no good opinion forthcoming but still wants to care his own way older brother x turning down a dark path but still wants to go back the way things were younger brother –> So much resentment fierce corpse x unable to forget the guilt murderer –> they are buried together. Deteriorating relationship! Shakespearean tragedy! Ultimate darkness! Death! Eternity with each other!

(Honorable mention: 3zun - a wholesome ouroboros loop of death, mystery and found family)

Nie Huaisang/Jin Guangyao: you ever have that one childhood friend that takes care of you and indulges in your oddities and protects you with murderous looks and a scarred back even though he’s frailer than you are; and then that childhood friend murders your older brother but leaves you alive and still takes cares of you and spoils you and would drop everything to help you with a made up problem? And so you’re now left seething in rage because how dare he ruin you and love you all without pause?! Cue the revenge plots! Lies! Deceit! Best actor winners going toe to toe on the world’s biggest stage! Inner conflict! Angst! More conflicted plotting!

Mo Xuanyu->Jin Guangyao: You’re weak and a mess and constantly bullied and the only one in this huge and scary house that ever showed you kindness is your older half brother. He becomes a god in your eyes, all golden and brilliant and surrounded by equally golden and beautiful people you can never touch. But you still try despite everything because he’s the sun and he wanted you to thrive, and you’re just a little moth ramming head first into the flames. And when you’re scorched to the bone and everyone still keeps on trying to stomp you into ash and you finally decide to take revenge, you still can’t bring yourself to blame that splendid sun who were never yours in the first place. Resentments! Unrequited love! More angst! Inner courtyard intrigues! More tragedy! Poetic inner monologues!

Su She->Jin Guangyao: generous and focused ruler x dedicated and competent supporter. He gives you all the respect you need and you know in your soul you will die for him and you don’t care one whit about it. You protect his heart but you always stood one step behind. The position beside him is taken, often by a soft figure in golden silk, or an eminent figure in blue satin. Jealousy! Loud expressions of loyalty! Ego management! Pining and simping!

Xue Yang/Jin Guangyao - friends who murder together stays together. One causes wanton destruction and the other picks up after them. Not because he particularly cares that people are getting hurt but the cost analysis tells him it’s not worth the clean up. You pay for my shopping, I rip out the tongues of anyone that insults your mother. Lighthearted talks of murder! Scheming with friends! Lots of cursing! Dubious experiments! Lots of magical cursing! Friends with benefits!

Wen Ruohan/Meng Yao: local megalomanic tyrant sees this random ass kid all bloodied up and gleaming with spite and went “I would like to raise that one. I’ll give it a sword and I’ll teach him stuff and I won’t say I appreciate him but I will definitely save him from imminent danger.” And that kid acknowledges said tyrant as his teacher and tortures for him pretends to love him, all the while stealing his secrets and preparing to stab him in the back to win the war. Struggle! Trauma! Living in hardship! Double agent reminding themselves not to be conflicted! Psychological torture!

Wen Chao + Wen Xu: uhhhhhh, the canoodling with stepmom trope? Do we even go that far on tumblr? It’s a possibility I’ve considered for about two seconds and now I wish I could wash my brain out.

Jin Zixun~~Jin Guangyao: the “I know I’m slapping the me two years ago in the face with what I’m doing right now but it’s love so I don’t care” trope? All the Jins do this. The year before you were all “why are you always here you don’t belong here you bastard son” and now you’re all “wheres A-Yao he promised he would ambush this public menace with me owo?!??!!??” What a weakass motherfucker with weakass principles.

Honorable mentions:

Wei Wuxian + Jin Guangyao: best in law dynamics, potentially. Terrorizing the Cloud Recesses, eating lots of spicy food, hiding secrets in perfectly groomed hair, causing aneurysms in Lan Qiren, violating all the OH&S regulations Etc.

Lan Wangji + Jin Guangyao: best in law dynamics, actually. It’s a whole battle. Jin “I am physically incapable of seeing someone and not wanting to take care of it” Guang “yes I will be calling you Wangji and trying to give you stuff and show audible concern for your love life” Yao vs. Lan “I do not wish to know you I do not care for your seating arrangements do not ever invite me to your banquets again” Wang “just because you’re maybe dating my precious older brother does not mean I will not refute you to your face about my boyfriend at your banquet in front of said brother” Ji.

(And yes the last two are purely familial/platonic. And also everyone else? You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift is the most fitting theme song for half of them)

~more MDZS metas under #my thing# tag~

[sweetestpopcorn]

Do you really think Daemon Targaryen is an example of a grey character? Daemon is supposed to be 'light and dark in equal parts' but... we never see it? We see him degrade his first wife Rhea and her homeland the Vale all the time (but does try to steal said homeland once she's dead), jape about his infant nephew Baelon dying, child-grooming his 14-year-old-niece Rhaenyra, possibly murdering the son of his greatest ally Laenor, sending Blood and Cheese to kill a perfectly innocent 6-year-old Prince Jaehaerys, and to counter all that... what? What he did that made him a good person?

Hi!

First of all I'm sorry it took me so long to answer this but this required some work on my part so I could give a satisfactory answer (I hope).

Second, I would like to reiterate that I will judge Daemon's morality not according to the current time we live in and our universe and laws, but according to the ASOIAF universe and the time during which he lived (to the best of my abilities). I know, I know, why am I giving this warning this should be obvious... not in the ASOIAF fandom unfortunately.

Third, finally answering the question, I think that issue is far from being a straightforward one. Any character in F&B will be that much harder to judge than characters in the other ASOIAF novels (e.g., Dany, Jon, Cersei, Catelyn, Joffrey...) because we don't get their POVs. We don't even see them as events are unfolding and they are being perceived by a third party whose POV we do get - like we do with Robb Stark for instance - instead we get to read about someone writing about them based on what other people who were not reliable sources, wrote about them centuries before. F&B itself is written in a way where pretty much you get to choose what you believe in from what information you are given, and boy oh boy do we have some wild takes (!) not backed up by facts! But I guess it is interesting to a point that you can choose your version - under certain limits of course that don't directly contradict the facts given (though some people will also do this, but sure why not?).

Daemon, though a vast portion of the story is focused on him, since him along with Rhaenyra are the most developed characters of the Dance, remains a very illusive and mysterious character. Many times you are told what he did but you are told very little about why he did it - hence the ability people have to choose what they want to believe, or what they think makes more sense. I do believe him to be a grey character in the sense that I would argue perhaps the only real "black" characters we get in ASOIAF would be Joffrey, Ramsay, and the Mountain (maybe Euron as well but I am not 100% sold on that yet). These are characters who don't have redeeming qualities. They are cruel, and they like to be cruel. None of them had a fall from grace where they started good and then turned bad, and none of them had any sort of redemption where they could have started bad and then became good. With these three characters from the oldest memories people have of them we see them doing bad deeds and showing no remorse. Some examples I can think of at the top of my head are Joffrey opening a pregnant cat to see her kittens, the Mountain murdering his sister and pressing Sandor's head against the fire, the latter because he was playing with one of his toys, and Ramsay we have his adventures with OG Reek and of course him likely killing his half-brother.

Daemon isn't such a character.

Yes we do see him do some very... reproachable (nasty) things such as the ones you mentioned. But he also did some very good things. I will try to list some of his qualities and good deeds.

Daemon reformed the Gold Cloaks, making them into a true order men were proud to serve in. He inspired so much loyalty that decades after he was no longer their Lord Commander many of the men still remembered him and betrayed the Greens for Daemon - not because they were on the side of the Blacks, or because they thought Rhaenyra was the rightful queen, they did it because of Daemon. It takes a hardworking person, a talented fighter and a true leader to inspire this sort of loyalty, because they were loyal to him, they did not act out of fear.

"Daemon gave us these cloaks, he said, and they are gold no matter how you turn them." (Fire and Blood, pg. 456)

Still about his time in the Gold Cloaks, while his methods were at times cruel, they were effective, so he had (some) sense of justice. And here we see the grey. One on side he did good, on the other, his means were dark and he seemed to like them that way.

"That he made the city more orderly no man could doubt, but his discipline was a brutal one." (Fire and Blood, pg. 355).

As a young man, Daemon also seemed to be well liked by his family. Viserys had fond memories of him and a great love for him - which made him forgive Daemon time and time again - and his grandfather Jaehaerys thought him worthy of Dark Sister. Here it is worth mentioning that although Jaehaerys had had several sons, only to Daemon did he gift Dark Sister. Would he have done so if Daemon was this complete psychopath? This popcorn thinks not.

“Though the king did not wish Daemon to succeed him, he remained fond of his younger brother, and was quick to forgive his many offenses.” (Fire and Blood, pg. 355).

“Though far from being blind to his brother’s flaws, he cherished his memories of the free-spirited, adventurous boy that Daemon had been.” (Fire and Blood, pg. 358)

“(...) Prince Daemon had earned his knight’s spurs at six-and-ten, and had been given Dark Sister by the Old King himself in recognition of his prowess.” (Fire and Blood, pg. 354)

Daemon was also a charming man. Much like Rhaenyra, he could charm those around them and make them love him... when he wanted and could keep his anger in check (again, much like Rhaenrya).

“As charming as he was hot-tempered (...)”. (Fire and Blood, pg. 354).

And speaking of Daemon’s niece, let’s not forget he was able to win her affections and keep them through I would argue all of his life. She became enamoured of him while she was just a child, he managed to get into her smallclothes prior to her sweet sixteen (extensions to this incursion can be debated concerning which version, or which mixture of the versions people believe) and if you believe Septon Eustace - which given what happened a few years later makes the most sense - made her want to marry him. And let’s not forget he regained these affections even after she married Laenor (against her will) and had a “special friendship” with Harwin Strong and had three children, with the two getting reacquainted with each other quite soon after both his wife and Rhaenyra’s on paper husband, and dude who actually performed the duties of a husband, passed away, resulting in them marrying and having a baby - I will let yall decide which happened first. This was an incredibly bad call on Rhaenyra’s part since it did not help with her reputation and honestly whenever I see someone say she married him for “political reasons” I laugh until my face hurts. Sure, “political reasons”.

“Princess Rhaenyra was also enamoured of her uncle, for Daemon was ever attentive to her.” (Fire and Blood, pg. 355)

“Princess Rhaenyra was a different matter. Daemon spent long hours with her, enthralling her with tales of his journeys and battles. (...) Rhaenyra insisted she was in love with her uncle and pleaded with her father for leave to marry him.” (Fire and Blood, pg. 368)

“King, court, and commons were all outraged by the news. Neither Daemon’s wife nor Rhaenyra’s husband had been dead even half a year (...) Septon Eustace claims that Rhaenyra knew her father would never aprove of the match, so she wed in haste to make certain he could not prevent the marriage. Mushroom puts forward a different reason: the princess was once again with child and did not wish to birth a bastard.” (Fire and Blood, pg. 384)

Why am I bringing this up? Let’s compare Daemon for instance with someone like Joffrey, who I argued is a full black character. Could he win Sansa Stark’s affections? Yup. Did it last? Nope. Because dude was a total psycho who could not hide his nature for too long. Could Daemon keep Rhaenyra’s affections and inspire love? He could if we look at the text, just look at how Rhaenyra speaks about him during the Dance:

“My prince would ne’er lay with such a low creature.” (Fire and Blood, pg. 493)

“Only then shall my prince be freed.” (Fire and Blood, pg. 494)

Note that she does not refer to him as “the prince”, or “the prince consort”, or “Prince Daemon”. She calls him “my prince” twice and I don’t believe this was an accident. 

Still about Rhaenyra, we see another core element of Daemon. He was loyal. Loyal to her and her cause, just as he had once been loyal to Viserys during the Great Council of 101. Whatever his reasons behind it, it remains that he stood by her side to the end. Even in his killing of Prince Jaehaerys, he did it as a revenge and the way it is written does imply that at least to a small extent, he did it for her.

“(...) whilst Daemon Targaryen, a hot-tempered and quarrelsome young man of twenty, had gathered his own band of swords in support of his brother Viserys.” (Fire and Blood, pg. 344)

“As the black council sat to consider how to strike back, a raven arrived from Harrenhal. “An eye for an eye, a son for a son.” Prince Daemon wrote, “Lucerys shall be avenged.”“ (Fire and Blood, pg. 422)

Even concerning Nettles, while he did not let her be killed as Rhaenyra commanded, he did not speak one word against his queen. In fact, was Daemon a completely selfish and self-serving character and he could have simply said “Well f_ck this b_tch”, get on top his dragon and go live somewhere far with Nettles. Instead, he sent her on his way and faced Aemond, likely knowing it would be his last battle.

Was he tired of living? People might argue so, and I do see merit in the argument, but there’s no clear evidence of it in text. Furthermore, what is clear is that while Aemond lived, Rhaenyra’s throne was in danger as they knew that the war would not be done until Aemond was gone. I am absolutely certain that Daemon also knew that had he left, he likely would be condemning his niece and son to death. No one but him was strong enough to be a threat against Aemond. Was there more behind it? We can argue so and I do think there was but facts remain he did not left Rhaenyra or her cause.

And still about Neetles we see another important side of Daemon. His mercy. For whatever his reasons might be, he helped a young girl escape an unjust death sentence. Was he a black character, do you think he would have cared about this chick he was banging/was his daughter - depending on the version you believe - for a second? He would just not give two f_cks. But he did.

I could go on and there’s more right at the top of my head such as his affections for Mysaria and for their unborn baby, but this is getting way too long and not even I can stand myself for such a prolonged period of time. But all in all, though Daemon remains an illusive character people love to hate or hate to love or sometimes both, I do stand by the fact that he’s neither black nor white, but grey. A man who did great things and terrible ones too, written by people who had no love for him, but through whom the Targaryen line continued. And friendly reminder that all his children (that were born alive) made it through the Dance and went on to further the lines of several houses ;)

So long live Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince, and most important of all Daddy of our Lord and Saviour Baby Cheeks Aegon aka Aegon III!

[drkineildwicks]

Writing Snippets--10/5/2022

I actually got some stuff done earlier yesterday but it was in the middle of a high-action chapter that would have required a lot of explanation for like a couple hundred words so instead let’s have some of the other stuff I worked on.

First a snippet from the Ghost’s Fury sequel:

So honestly, the knocking on the forge shutter wasn’t welcome. Sigh, rub his forehead, debate…Momakase wouldn’t knock, she’d just barge in and drag his sorry hide out.  Let’s see, which Yokai would actually be both polite enough to knock and gutsy enough to do so when they knew he was in?

He wasn’t surprised to see Carl when he rolled the shutter back up.

“We’re closed,” he said flatly, getting ready to tug the shutter back down.

“We need to talk about the dragons,” Carl said bluntly—put a hand up and stopped him from pulling the shutter the rest of the way down.

“Must we?”

“Yes, we need more of an explanation beyond we’re not killing them anymore.”

“You’re a big lad, figure it out on your own.”

Obake and Carl have to be two of my favorite series-exclusive characters, probably in that order.

And then a snippet from the sequel to Safe in Brother’s Wings:

So sometimes Tadashi was able to drink his coffee in the backyard and that was nice and gave him some time to get revitalized as the kids scrambled around the yard that had nice high fences and enough within those fences to keep them distracted.  Also, a little table with chairs where he could sit and yawn as he nursed his coffee because thanks to bird-kids he got no sleep.

“Why don’t they ever crawl into bed with you?” he demanded of ‘Kase, perched on a nearby partition and grooming her wings in the sun.

“They do,” she reported.  “I send them over to you.”

“You suck.  I need you to know this.”

“Oh please, that’s the sleep deprivation talking.”

“And whose fault is that?”

These two’s interactions are still my favorite from this AU.

[wanderinginksplot]

Warriors in Red Armor

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Chapter Three

Warning: This chapter features a highly sanitized and idealized version of a protest. A protest that would take place in a galaxy far, far away with a functional government and officers held to an incredibly high standard. In short, this is not meant to be a reflection in any way, shape, or form of any of the protests that have taken place over the last few years, especially in regards to racial prejudice in the United States. If you think this could be a trigger for you, please skip this chapter and send me a message! I would be thrilled to summarize the chapter's contents for you.

---

Fox I

"These men fight and die for the sake of a Republic that cares nothing for them!"

Fox winced, dialing down the volume on the channel that connected the audio intake to the interior of his helmet. Whoever had given that woman a device to amplify her voice had never been forced to listen to how loud she was all on her own.

"They were bred to fight in wars they did not create, used to protect a society from which they do not benefit, and given no chance to choose a different life!"

A different life. Fox didn't even know what he would do if he wasn't a soldier. Not that it had ever mattered. The woman had gotten that right, at least: the troopers had been bred for ultimate reflexes and battle efficiency. Using them in any other capacity would be a waste.

"They have no rights, receive no recognition, and barely earn a paycheck!"

"Hey, Commander," a trooper's voice said in his ear. Fox's HUD identified the speaker as Jek.

"What is it, Jek?" Fox asked, on instant alert and scanning the crowd with increased fervor.

"Do you think we could get a pay raise out of this?"

Fox bit back an irritated sigh. It wasn't Jek's fault that he had never experienced a riot. He didn't know the devastating speed at which crowds could turn, that you couldn't take your eyes off them for a moment. He didn't know how dangerous people like Nora Czajak could be.

"Keep your focus, trooper," he admonished. "If this crowd gets out of control, you won't deserve a pay raise anyway."

"Yes, sir," Jek agreed, sounding disappointed.

"We must stand for sake of these men who are forbidden to stand," Czajak was lecturing. "We must speak for them, because their voices have been ignored. Come, my fellow Coruscanti citizens! Lend your legs, lend your voice, lend your time! Help us show the Galactic Senate that we will not rest until these men have received all they deserve!"

"Someone must have kriffed up hard if listening to this is what we deserve," Rhys complained through the inter-HUD comm system.

It was only the second complaint, but that was two too many in Fox's opinion. With a short motion of his eyes, Fox had activated the communications system that connected all trooper helmets. It allowed him to make a sweeping announcement.

"Stay on alert, men," Fox ordered. "They have permission to march for another twenty minutes before we can break this whole thing up. Keep your seals tight."

But it was not to be. Groups of civilians thronged to the demonstration, convinced by Czajak's passionate speech to join the Clone Rights cause. At the exact time Clone Rights was to end their march, the Coruscant Guard stepped up to urge civilians off the street. It didn't matter - Czajak took up her amplifier once more.

"See, citizens? Do you see how the troopers are forced to work counter to their own interests?" Czajak demanded. "We march on their behalf, but their commanding officers order them to silence our voices! They have no choice but to obey."

The murmur of agreement passing through the crowd put tension thrumming through Fox's shoulders. If this demonstration was going to get ugly, it would be now.

"No thinking, feeling being should have their choices removed!" Czajak cried through the amplifier. "No being should be forced to fight for those who would keep him enslaved!"

If given the chance, Fox could have guessed the first act of violence down to the second it happened.

By the time the cry of, "Don't push me!" rang through the crowd, he was well on his way to Czajak.

Before she could lift her amplifier again - to do what, he didn't stop to ask - Fox had taken it from her hand. "Sorry ma'am. I'm placing you in custody."

"Under what charges?" she asked, fixing him with an impish grin that made no sense under the circumstances.

Fox's own reaction made even less sense: the sight of that little mischievous smile set his blood boiling. He had experienced far more disrespect from civilians in the past. There was no reason she should have any effect on him at all.

Still, he had to take a deep breath before he could answer her. "Violating the terms of a special demonstration permit, inciting a riot, disturbing the peace… should I go on?"

"Why not?" Czajak asked. "You seem to be enjoying yourself."

Fox shook his head and held up a pair of regulation magnetic binders. "Are you planning to resist arrest?"

She didn't answer him immediately, instead staring into the darkness of his visor in a way that made Fox feel painfully exposed. Czajak was calm and steady while he - Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard - was off-balance. Somehow, she had gotten him at a disadvantage. Discomfited at the idea, Fox shook the cuffs at her in a rude gesture. "Well?"

"Hold on, I'm trying to decide if resisting arrest would be working for or against my cause," she pondered, still wearing a hint of her ridiculous grin. At last, she sighed and presented her wrists. "I'll go with you."

If Fox put the binders on her wrists a bit more aggressively than necessary, no one dared to ask him why.

Somehow, he ended up being the one to transport Czajak back to the Coruscant Guard precinct - mostly because the other men were busy escorting rioters to the precinct or being looked over by Ink, the Guard's medic.

After he had gotten Czajak in his transport, Fox slid into the front seat and began preparing to pilot it. She watched with interest while he removed his helmet, but it was illegal to drive with one on, so he persevered. Besides, there would be nothing of interest for her under his helmet. Fox kept his appearance strictly within grooming guidelines. His hair was regulation, his face was clean-shaven, and his tattoos were neatly hidden beneath his body glove.

He had glanced at her in the rear-facing mirror of his transport and resolved not to do so again. Still, his determination not to speak to her lasted until she spoke exactly once.

"So you don't see your required enforcement of my demonstration as a conflict of interest?" she asked conversationally despite having stared at him in silence for the first few minutes of their trip. "You don't think it's a violation of your rights? Not that you get many of those…"

"I have rights," Fox ground out before he could stop himself. "You and your group don't help any of us. You just make our lives more difficult."

"But imagine if you weren't being forced into life as a soldier," Czajak pressed. "You and your brothers could do anything you choose to do, live in the way that best pleases you."

"And we would choose to fight and die for the Republic," Fox answered stoically.

Czajak didn't answer immediately. Fox glanced into the mirror to find her staring at him in unsettled silence. When she finally found her voice, she said, "Surely you can't be so arrogant to think that all your brothers feel the same way."

"We're clones. We look the same, act the same, fight the same, and think the same," he said with a conviction he didn't feel. "Being soldiers is what we're good at, what we were made to do. It's in our genes."

Even in his peripheral vision, he could see her perk up slightly at that. "Your genes? Your genes were donated by a man who was a bounty hunter - one of the best the galaxy has ever seen. If every person sharing your genetic profile was made to be a soldier, how did he end up as a bounty hunter?"

It was a good point, Fox resentfully admitted to himself. Czajak was excellent at debate and he found himself drawn into the argument.

"Lack of opportunity," he said, mostly to give himself time to think.

"So, if given the opportunity, you believe Jango Fett would have left a successful bounty-hunting career to be a soldier fighting for the Republic?" She shook her head. "That seems unlikely, to say the least. He was a man who valued freedom and choice."

"Jango Fett was a traitor to the Republic," Fox argued. "He died at the hands of a Jedi because he was in league with the Separatists."

"Are you a traitor to the Republic?" Czajak asked, voice gentle despite the horrendous accusation she was tossing in his direction.

"Of course not!"

"Then genes don't determine personality, preferences, or choices. Your brothers may not all like the life of a soldier, regardless of how you enjoy it." With that, Czajak settled back against the seat and stared peacefully out of the transparisteel window, as if she hadn't turned Fox's idea of the world on its head.

---

Hound III

Public relations assignments were a nightmare for most troopers. Being forced to parade in front of civilians was hard enough, but the GAR wanted their troopers to do the impossible. They had to toe the line between being friendly and non-intimidating, but still remind citizens that the troopers were more than enough to defend the Triple Zero against threats.

Hound was one of the rare troopers who didn't mind PR duty - actually, he enjoyed it. Not only did it play into his love of crowds and people, but he got to spend some time showing off his best friend.

"Now, Grizzer, can you show these good people some tricks?" Hound asked, giving the massiff a subtle signal to go into alert mode.

"Sit." Grizzer sat. "Smile." Grizzer bared his fearsome teeth. "Speak." Grizzer let out a loud, yelping bark. "Good boy!"

Grizzer could not sit still as the crowd applauded his good work. The muscular massiff's body quivered as Grizzer did his best to wag his whole being in excitement.

Non-threatening image: check, Hound thought with some amusement. The sea of younglings surrounding them had wriggled closer to the pair. Okay, so they were here for Grizzer, but Hound received some reflected fame because he got to be friends with the massiff.

"Do any of you have questions for me?" Hound asked, when he saw that their time was almost over.

A young Rodian boy raised his hand and immediately told Hound, "My mama said that massiffs eat bad children who don't listen to their parents. Does Grizzer eat bad children?"

Hound chuckled a bit. This was a common question at PR events. At first, he hadn't been sure how to answer the question, not wanting to accidentally encourage children to disobey their parents. He had ended up taking the problem to his fellow Coruscant Guardsmen and they had come up with a good solution.

Hound leaned down as if he were telling the younglings a secret and all of them wiggled closer as well. Meeting the wide, galaxy-mirroring eyes of the Rodian boy, Hound said, "Grizzer doesn't really like to eat children, but that's a secret. Don't tell your parents! Do you know what he does like to eat?"

The suggestions were wild and varied, but Hound grinned wider. "All of those are right! Grizzer will eat just about anything, even if it isn't good for him. The other night, he stole my dinner…"

And, with that, they had reached the 'Grizzer stealing food' part of the event. It was always an audience favorite, especially with younglings. Hound had vague thoughts about writing a series for young audiences about the massiff's antics. However, he was broken from his reverie by Fang, another ARF trooper, pointing at his chrono.

"That's it for today, everyone! Grizzer and I have to go back to work now."

The children - and some of the adults - made sounds of disappointment while Grizzer whined and gave Hound his most pleading expression.

"Sorry, buddy," Hound apologized to Grizzer. "You know we can't stay here all day."

"Talking to the massiff again, Hound?" Fang asked with a laugh as he approached the pair.

"That's how you become the best," Hound said, shrugging in false modesty.

He was proud of his reputation as the best ARF trooper in the GAR. It had been in every performance review he had gotten in the past few years: If there is a question about massiffs or their training, it goes immediately to Sergeant Hound. He was widely considered the ultimate authority on the subject of massiffs. Even some of the nat-born officers came to ask his advice.

In fact, Fang was at the PR event to shadow Hound. Coruscant wasn't as dangerous as some other assignments, but there was still risk in the job. There was a chance that Hound would meet an unpleasant end any day. It was best to have another qualified ARF ready to take over his work if that happened.

Grizzer, who had been idly watching the crowd with the uncaring nature that only an off-duty massiff should display, brought himself to attention. Early in their partnership, Hound had learned that the massiff had an uncanny knack for spotting trouble. Grizzer's instincts were almost never wrong.

Sure enough, a human woman stumbled out of the crowd when Hound glanced over. The two made eye contact for a moment before her gaze snapped to Grizzer, standing with one leg propped on Hound's foot. Immediate terror crossed her face and she tried to scurry back into the crowd, but she ran into a passing Devaronian. She bounced backward, falling hard on the duracrete ground with a noise that didn't sound entirely like flesh hitting a solid surface.

"Miss?" Hound asked, starting forward with a worried Grizzer hot on his heels. "Are you okay?"

The woman turned to face them, swiping frantically at the blood seeping from a cut above her eyebrow, but her attention was locked on Grizzer. "Get away from me!"

"Please calm down, ma'am, Grizzer isn't going to hurt-"

"Get away!" With that shout, one of the woman's arms lit in crackling blue electricity. Webs of light traced up and down across nodes nested in the wires of an arm he could now see was mostly cybernetic.

Hound towed Grizzer back and away from the woman even as he stared at the display. The hissing buzz of the electricity was as fascinating as it was intimidating, but Hound knew without reading the alerts on his HUD that they were illegal cybernetical alterations. Illegal alterations that she had just activated - accidental or not - in the middle of a group of civilians.

There was no way around it: he was going to have to bring her into the precinct.

"Fang," he ordered, holding Grizzer's lead out to the other ARF. Grizzer was smart and well-trained enough to go to Fang without the lead, but Hound didn't think the woman would be calmed by seeing a massiff moving around uncontrolled by a handler.

Fang, stars bless him, jogged across the small distance. He took the lead and hauled Grizzer away in seconds, ordering fascinated onlookers to go about their business all the while.

Hound's attention was fixed too closely on the woman to worry about things like civilians in the area. Her close-shaved head let him see the fire in her eyes, brighter and more violent than the sparks dripping from her cybernetic arm. If she was going to attack him or the crowd, he would need all the warning he could get. Stopping her in time to keep people from getting hurt would be tricky.

Slowly, he extended a hand, palm-out. "Easy," he breathed, humming a bit when she stared at him without moving. "The massiff is gone and no one wants to hurt you. Everything is okay."

Hound wasn't aware that he was nodding gently until she mirrored the motion, her head bobbing up and down in tense jerks. The rise and fall of her chest was still too rapid for comfort. Hound took a deep breath, exaggerating the sound for her.

"Deep breaths, deep breaths," he told her. "Everything is fine. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just- just keep it away from me," she said, voice a bit hoarse.

"Grizzer is over there and he's going to stay over there," Hound said firmly. "What else?"

She stared at him, her eyes intense and frank. "Let me go home."

Hound shook his head. "We both know I can't do that. Those are illegal alterations on your cybernetic, and you used them in a very public place. I need to take you to the station and file a report."

It was a bold thing to say, especially with the shivering light from her electricity-wreathed arm bouncing around the area, but she only sighed and flexed her fingers. The electricity died with the movement.

"I'll come with you," she stipulated, "but I won't ride with the massiff."

"I understand," Hound agreed, accepting her offer with ease. "Fang?"

"Sir?"

"Can you bring Grizzer back to the precinct?"

Fang took a moment to answer, and Hound glanced back to find the ARF staring at him in shock. "You want me to take Grizzer?"

"Yes, trooper," Hound said, an edge of exasperation entering his voice.

He felt a little bad making the request in the first place. Hound always took Grizzer with him, always. But Fang was a good soldier and a good brother, and he had a solid working relationship with Grizzer. Hound trusted Fang to get the massiff back to the precinct safely, even if he was a little guilty at leaving Grizzer behind.

Sorry, buddy, he mentally apologized to Grizzer. The massiff shook his head, tongue lolling out as if to say it was fine. Hound grinned. He had long thought that Grizzer was a little psychic.

"I'll get him there, sir," Fang agreed immediately, adding a sharp salute. Hound nodded solemnly at him and watched as the ARF and the massiff headed for Fang's cruiser.

When they were gone, Hound stood and extended a hand down to the woman, but she ignored it and stood on her own. When she was upright, she extended her wrists toward him for restraints. Hound pushed them down and gently guided her toward his own cruiser.

"You aren't going to put binders on me?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I wasn't planning on it," Hound said honestly. "Why, are you going to make trouble?"

"I wasn't planning on it," she said with a hint of mockery in her voice. "But for someone who is arresting me for illegal cybernetic enhancements, you don't seem worried I'm going to use them on you."

"If you want binders, we can do binders," Hound said with a long-suffering attitude. "It'll be a lot more trouble on my side, though. Do you really want to make extra work for me?"

"I would never want to inconvenience someone who's arresting me," she responded, expression as dry as her tone.

"Good! No binders, then," Hound decided, steering her into the backseat of his cruiser.

They didn't say another word to each other on the way to the precinct.

---

A/N - I just realized that the chapter cut comes before Hound learns that it's Ransom he's arresting. It's an awkward splice, but that's what happens when you write a story all at once and try to cut it into chapters of similar length afterward!

I'm sorry for the late update, but between the Chauvin sentencing and the death of Ma'Khia Bryant in the last week, I couldn't even think about posting on my usual day without feeling guilty and uncomfortable. I hope the protest described here wasn't too offensive to anyone, but I wanted to get this chapter posted!

[louezem]

Saying Yes

Summary:  Katniss and Peeta had a bitter break up years ago and went their separate ways. Katniss knows nothing of Peeta’s life now, until a stunning blonde walks into the exclusive bridal salon were she works, to buy her a dress for her wedding - to Peeta Mellark. 

Part Four - Sisters…..

Part 4 - Sisters  

“Prim?  Are you here?”

Katniss threw her keys and bag down and toed off her shoes with a sigh of relief.  It had been a long and frustrating day at work.   All she wanted was to shower, eat and then sleep.   

“I’m in the kitchen!” her sister replied.  “Dinner’s almost ready!”

Katniss offered up a silent prayer of thanks that she wouldn’t have to face another takeout or frozen pizza for dinner tonight.  She knew how to cook but was lazy about it when she only had to cook for herself.  Prim, however, loved to cook.

She followed the delicious aroma wafting down the narrow hall to the tiny kitchen.   It was barely big enough to hold a small table and 2 chairs, but Prim had set it with the nice plates and cutlery and a small bud vase holding a single, yellow dandelion.

“What’s all this?” Katniss waved at the table.  “It’s not my birthday.”

“Does it need to be a special occasion for me to show my appreciation for my favorite sister?” Prim asked, lifting a spoon to her mouth and offering it to her for a taste. 

“Mmm, that’s so good.” Katniss licked her lips.  “It tastes familiar. What’s in it?”

“It’s lamb stew with dried plums.” Prim smiled as she added an extra dash of red wine to the simmering pot.  “I remembered how much you love it and I thought I’d try to recreate the recipe.  Besides, lamb was on special at the market today.”  

Still thrifty with the budget.  Katniss thought.  Old habits die hard.

“Go get cleaned up.  Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. I just need to warm up some crusty bread to go with this.”

“I love you, little duck,” Katniss said, pulling her sister in for a hug. 

“I love you more, duck potato,” Prim grinned.

An hour later and Katniss was feeling full and sleepy as she curled on the sofa with her legs tucked under her, sipping on a second glass of red wine.  

“Thank you Prim, that was wonderful,” she sighed, patting her full tummy.  “I always appreciate a home cooked meal but I thought you had plans to go to the movies with Rory tonight?”

“I did but he caught an extra shift so I decided to come over and bug you instead.” Prim said, joining her on the sofa. 

“So, did you happen to catch any news today?  Hear any juicy celebrity gossip at work?” she asked, taking a sip from her own wineglass.

Katniss looked sideways at her sister, wondering why she was asking such an odd question. Prim knew Katniss was not big on the news or gossip – celebrity or otherwise.

“No, I was run off my feet all day.  I don’t have time for gossip.  There’s a trunk show on all week and they can get a little crazy.”

“Huh,” Prim starting tapping on the screen of her obnoxiously large smart phone. “Then you haven’t seen this?”  She slowly turned the phone screen to face her sister.

Katniss fought to keep her composure as she watched the images unfold in front of her.  The video captured a gorgeous smiling couple standing close together, hands intwined, on a gilded balcony overlooking the park.  A fireworks display was lighting up the night sky behind them.  Once the fireworks come to an end the couple and their guests start to clap and cheer and someone pops a champagne cork as music begins to play and other couples start to filter onto the dancefloor.  

Dressed in the one-of-a-kind flowing white and gold reception gown created by Cinna, paired with custom Jimmy Choo couture heels and her golden hair flowing in loose waves almost to her waist, the bride was every bit as breath-taking as Katniss knew she would be.  Holding her close to his side with an affectionate smile on his face was Peeta.   He looked equally handsome in a perfectly tailored white suit with gold accents at his throat, breast pocket and cuffs.

Though Cinna never talked to her about it – most likely to spare her feelings - Katniss knew he’d worked closely with Portia, the designer who created Peeta’s outfit, to ensure the bride and groom perfectly complimented each other on their special day.   

She couldn’t help looking carefully at Peeta’s left hand now placed on Glimmer’s waist expecting to see the shiny glint of a new gold band on his finger but he didn’t appear to be wearing one. 

That’s odd. She thought. No wedding ring?

She always thought Peeta was the type of guy would like to wear a ring when he got married. 

When they were dating he was always very open about showing his feelings for her, and would tease her gently when she got embarrassed by his frequent public displays of affection.  “I want the whole world to know I’m yours,” he’d told her, more than once, gently tugging on the end of her braid as she’d scowl.

Unable to continue watching him display affection for another woman was more then she could bear and she pushed the phone away.

“They make a very lovely couple,” Katniss said quietly. “I hope they’ll be very happy together”. 

Prim snorted out loud. “Katniss did you even read what’s under the video?” she held the phone up again.

“The Show Must Go On!”

An official spokesperson for the Snow family declined to comment following the cancellation of the nuptials between heiress Glimmer Snow, granddaughter of Coriolanus Snow, and her fiancé Peeta Mellark, Culinary Director for the “Arena” chain of restaurants owned by the Snow Corporation.  However the brother of the groom, Mr Ryan Mellark, confirmed that the decision by the couple not to proceed with the wedding was both “mutual and loving” and that the couple would remain friends.    

“I don’t understand,” Katniss looked to her sister, confused.  “Are you telling me they didn’t get married?”

“Yep.  No wedding. They called it off at the last minute but went ahead with the dinner and reception anyway, which is kind of cool.  One of Rory’s classmates was working the bar for the evening and he says it turned into one hell of a party. But then I guess the Snow family does know how to do things in style.”

“Wow. I wonder what happened to make them call it off.” Katniss stared into space as she tried to process this new information.   She’d purposely avoided all news and social media over the weekend, hoping that if she distanced herself the sooner she’d be able to forget the intense look in Peeta’s eyes as she’d driven away from the hotel.  “So much time, money and effort went into those dresses, poor Cinna worked for days hand beading the reception dress—"

Prim rolled her eyes. 

“Lord almighty Katniss, you can be so dumb sometimes,” she took another sip of her wine.  “Isn’t it obvious what happened?  Peeta claps eyes on you again for the first time in forever and the next day his wedding is called off.  He still loves you.”

“That’s not true.” Katniss jumped off the sofa and quickly gathered her wine glass and the near empty bottle.  “Don’t say that.  Why would you say something like that?”

“Hey, give that back!” Prim tried to grab the wine bottle from her as she stomped past into the kitchen and began angrily slamming their dirty dishes into the dishwasher.   It wasn’t long before she heard her sister’s soft footsteps behind her.

“I’m sorry Katniss, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Prim apologised quietly.  “I’m worried about you, that’s all.  You haven’t been yourself since you found out Peeta was getting married.”

Katniss sighed.  “I’m fine Prim, really.  You’ve no need to worry about me.  Peeta and I were over a lifetime ago.  I’m over it.  I know absolutely nothing about his life now.”

Prim tilted her head and regarded her sister with cool blue eyes.  “Will you ever tell me what happened between the two of you?  You’ve never given me a straight answer.”

“Does it matter now?”

Prim shrugged. “I’d like to understand.  I was still a kid when you two broke up and no one bothered to explain what was going on to me.  It was confusing.  All I knew was one day you were getting ready to leave for college, the next you were staying in District 12 and applying for any low paid job you could get.  Why didn’t you go?”

“Because things changed,” Katniss scowled. “Family comes first.”

Prim squinted. “Really, Katniss? You’ve fobbed me off with that line for years.  I was hoping you were finally ready to open up with a few more details. I know you loved Peeta, don’t bother denying it.  Your feelings for him weren’t the problem.  Or his for you, everyone could see how bad the guy had it for you.  It wasn’t Mom, or money issues.  She was fine then and you had a full scholarship.  There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

“All right, if you want to know I’ll tell you.”  Katniss reached up into a small cupboard a produced a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses.  “Follow me.  This conversation is going to require something a bit stronger than wine.”

Settled back on the sofa once again, she tossed back a shot and took a deep breath.

“Peeta accused me of cheating on him,” she began.  “When I tried to defend myself, he didn’t believe me.  He chose to take his brother’s word over mine.”

“No way.” Prim gasped, her eyes widening.

“It’s true.  Rye told Peeta he caught me making out with Gale after a graduation party at Madge’s house.  Rye didn’t believe me when I told him that Gale kissed me, that I didn’t invite it and I didn’t kiss him back.  After cussing me out and calling me a few choice names he went straight to Peeta and told him.”

“Oh, shit.”  Prim’s mouth dropped open.  She picked up a full shot glass and threw it back before fixing her sister with a stare.  “Okay. In the interest of full disclosure I have to ask – did you make out with Gale?”

“Of course not!” Katniss yelled.  “Gale was my friend!  I’d known him since we were kids.   Besides, Madge liked him and I wouldn’t do that to a friend.”

“But did you like him?  Let’s face it, Gale is attractive.  In a Hemsworth kind of way.”

“No. I only ever saw him like a cousin, or maybe an older brother.  I never felt anything romantic for Gale.  It shocked the hell out of me when he kissed me.  We didn’t talk for a long time afterwards.”

“Okay, okay, I just needed to clarify that.  Continue, please.“

“Peeta and I had a huge fight and he broke up with me.  He was horrible to me Prim.”  Katniss voice cracked a little as the memories assaulted her.   “He wouldn’t give me a chance to defend myself. He was so mean, I’d never seen him like that before.  He was like a totally different person.”

Katniss felt the familiar sting starting to build behind her eyes and bit her lip in order to try and gain some control over her emotions.  It still hurt, remembering the words that came out of his mouth.

“He asked me had I led Gale on, and told me to crawl back to the slag heap I came from.” 

“Oh my god, Katniss,” Prim’s eyes softened and reached towards her sister “I’m so sorry—"

“Wait! It gets worse!” Katniss let out a hard laugh.  “As if that wasn’t bad enough, somehow Peeta’s evil bitch of a mother found out about what happened.  She called Mom and threatened her. She told her that if her seam slut of a daughter went ahead with her plans to go to the same school as her son, that she’d report her to Child Protective Services for neglect.  She’d tell them about Mom leaving us alone at night while she worked, and that you would be left at home by yourself at 14 if I left town for school. She even knew about the bouts of depression after Dad died.  All stuff I’d confided in Peeta about.” 

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Prim jumped of the sofa and started to pace up and down. “It’s so unfair.  And untrue!  Mom and I talked about what would happen when you went to school, I was going to stay overnight with Hazelle at the Hawthornes when she was on nights!” 

“You know that and I know that, but Mom was terrified.  She didn’t know what to do.”

Katniss downed another shot. 

“After she threatened Mom, I tried talking to Rye one more time.  I begged him again to believe me that what he saw wasn’t real, but he insisted I was lying.  That Gale had been seen at the slag heap with a girl from the Seam, and I must have made it worth it when he could have had Madge instead of my skinny ass.  His words.  I never really understood that part.”  She frowned.

“I told him about his mother’s threats and he finally said he’d talk to his Dad about keeping her off our Mom’s back, but only for your sake and only if I agreed to stop trying to contact Peeta.  So I did what he wanted.  I gave up my college place and started applying for jobs and signed up for a few classes at the Community College.”

“So, it was me.” Prim’s eyes filled with tears and she crawled towards her sister and wrapped her arms around her in a fierce hug. “You did it for me.”

Katniss shrugged like it was no big deal. “You’re my sister. I’d give my life for yours in a heartbeat.”

“You’re such a dumbass but I love you.” Prim began to cry harder. “You sacrificed so much Katniss.  Your education.  Your future.  Peeta. I’ve never seen you as happy as when you two were together, not even when you were with Darius.”

“Hush now, no more of that talk.” Katniss soothed her crying sister, tears forming in her own eyes. “It all worked out for the best in the end.   I was here when Mom got sick and I took on a second job to help pay the bills.  We got by, and we stayed together. That’s what Dad would have wanted.  Family comes first.”

“Peeta was a part of our family. He was like a brother to me when I was a kid.” Prim sniffed.  “Why didn’t he believe you?  And what the fuck was Rye’s problem?”

“I don’t know.  All I know is his mother always hated me, but I never knew Rye did too. Peeta and Rye were always close, and once Rye started filling Peeta’s head with lies I just couldn’t get through to him after that.  He never spoke to me again after he broke up with me.  A few weeks later he left town for school and I never saw him again until that day on the steps of his hotel.” 

“Katniss, I don’t know what to say. I am so sorry.  It sounds like his mind was poisoned by his brother and that horrible old witch who gave birth to him.  God, I’d love to give her a piece of my mind.  As for Rye? I swear, if I ever see that guy again I will dick punch him.” 

“I saw Rye the day before the wedding, he has mellowed quite a bit,” Katniss continued to stroke Prim’s blonde hair soothingly, taking comfort from the continuous motion herself. “He was almost pleasant once he realized I had a legitimate reason for being there.”

“I owe you so much Katniss,” Prim sat up, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.  “Because of your support, I got to come here, go to school, do everything you missed out on.  Everything I’ve achieved is because you.  How can I ever repay a debt like that?”

“Don’t worry, you can pay for my luxury retirement home on the beach in District Four when you find the cure for cancer,” Katniss quipped and laughed as Prim hit her with a cushion. 

Later that night, after Prim had left and Katniss was getting ready for bed, she couldn’t help but look for a small box she kept hidden in the furthest corner of her closet.  

Inside were a few sentimental items that even after ten years, she never had the heart to throw away.  

A pencil drawing of a dandelion he’d put into her locker one day, after she told him they made her think of him.

A movie stub from their first date.  She smiled at the memory.  Peeta had taken her to see “I Am Legend” and got embarrassed when he cried over the dog, Sam, dying.   It was still one of her favorite movies.

A photo of them together at Senior Prom, and another of their High School Graduation, big smiles on their faces just days before he broke up with her and her world came crashing down.

“Oh Peeta,” she mumbled, “why didn’t you believe me?”  She sniffed.  No, she wasn’t going to cry.  She’d already done enough of that for this lifetime. 

“… maybe you should crawl back to the slag heap you come from.”

She felt a spark of anger in her own stomach when she recalled the things he’d accused her of.  It was an old spark, but one that had helped her keep going and moving forward over the years.   She slammed the box shut and shoved it back in the darkest recess of her closet before crawling into her bed.  She had run from the bakery that day.  Run from his words and the rage and hurt in blue eyes that had only ever looked at her with softer emotions.   

She closed her own eyes and pulled the covers over her head, hoping she wouldn’t be hearing them over and over in her nightmares that night.

~*~    ~*~   ~*~

Read on AO3 

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today XXVI

A/N: So, there's gonna be a lot of plot here that we've sort of... seen in the show? But it is necessary to move the plot forward, and I hope I've changed it up enough to keep it interesting! I'm also hoping to focus a lot on the "behind the scenes" of Ivar's and Asta's plans, but also soon we'll be getting more answers to what the end of the last chapter means! Until then, I hope you enjoy this update! Skål!

Summary:  When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

--

They woke the next morning to the sound of bells, and to the feeling of Oleg shoving them slightly to wake them. “Ivar, Asta. Get up,” he said, and Asta grumbled and buried her face more into Ivar’s shoulder. His grip on her only tightened as she squirmed a little closer.

Oleg tried again, and this time, the pair stirred and looked up at him, irritation clear in their eyes- as well as a bit of exhaustion. “We have to leave,” he said, and went to wake up Igor, who still slept where Asta had put him to bed.

Once Asta had gotten up, and Ivar was sitting up as she went to straighten her hair, he began to speak. “I was dreaming, that my wine was poisoned, and that that’s the reason why I did not drink it,” he said, his eyes following her across the room. He finally tore his eyes from her to look to Oleg. “Why did you have to kill your brother?”

Oleg paused, turning back to look at Ivar. Asta had also stopped moving about and was now watching Oleg. He turned, looked to Igor, and answered, “Because this child belongs to me. Not to Askold, not to anyone else. His father made me his guardian.”

“What did Askold do?” Ivar questioned then.

“I heard reports,” Oleg said. “Askold was grooming the child. He was trying to steal him away from me. And that I could not allow.”

Asta noticed the way Ivar’s eyes narrowed, the look on his face which showed he didn’t quite approve. “He’s just a child,” he argued.

Oleg was silent for a few moments, before saying, “No,” and walking back toward Ivar. Asta leaned against one of the bedposts, her eyes following Oleg closely. “He’s not just a child. He’s the only legitimate heir. To control him is to possess the only keys to the Kingdom.” He stopped to look back at Igor, who was still sleeping soundly, before turning back to Ivar once more. “I mean to keep those keys safe about me.”

Ivar simply hummed in response, though he seemed skeptical. Oleg gave a nod, and then finally went back to Igor, who he began trying to wake, as Asta went to sit next to Ivar.

“Interesting thoughts about this all, hm?” she whispered to him in her own tongue. This earned another thoughtful hum from the Viking King as he turned to her.

“Indeed,” he replied. “I think… perhaps we should keep said keys safe about us as well, hm?”

“The child?” Asta questioned. “You mean to take him away?”

Ivar shrugged a little in the way that said he wasn’t closed off to the idea, even if he wasn’t fully agreeing to it just yet. “Perhaps,” he said. “Either way, it would be wise to be close to him.”

Asta nodded a little, and turned back to watch Oleg and Igor. Something the former said had scared the latter, but the sound of a horn blowing interrupted them all, and their attentions all looked out the window to see what it might have been.

“What is happening?” Ivar questioned Oleg.

Oleg sighed a little. “Seems like we have visitors,” he said vaguely.

The Commander came into the room and spoke to his Prince, making Asta and Ivar share a look, confused and concerned. Ivar decided to say something about this.

“Oleg, what is happening?” he demanded. “Hm?”

“I forgot to tell you,” Oleg began to reply, seeming almost put out. “I have another brother.”

Ivar and Asta’s eyes both widened. Another brother? They exchanged a look as Oleg added, “It seems like he wants to talk to us.”

Oleg almost stalked out of the room, and Asta and Ivar shared another look. This continued to get stranger, this situation. When they heard Igor slide out of bed and drop to the floor, they turned to see what he was doing, watched him hide behind the changing screen. Asta got up and walked over toward the boy as Ivar got to the ground and crawled toward him, Igor poking his head out to look at the two.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Ivar assured him. Igor looked outside, then back to him, and drug his finger across his throat, making a face as if pained, before hiding again.

Asta’s face contorted in concern, as Ivar turned to look over his shoulder, brows creased as he thought. Oleg’s brother would kill him.

“Should I stay with the boy?” Asta questioned, her eyes glancing down at Ivar. He looked up at her thoughtfully. After a few moments, he nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “Be sure no one comes to hurt him. Hm?”

Asta nodded, and Ivar moved to start putting his braces on his legs. She moved to help him, and once they were done, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll be here, love,” she told him. “Go.”

He smiled up at her and kissed her cheek, before going back to Igor. The sound of Ivar’s crutch growing quieter signaled that he was headed out of the room, and so she knelt down in front of Igor.

She waved, a way of saying hello, as she couldn’t speak his language, and he waved in response and said, “Pryvit.”

“Pryvit,” she repeated. She put her hand to her chest, indicating herself, and said, “Asta.” Igor gave a small nod, and repeated her name. “Yes, exactly.” Asta nodded and smiled warmly at him.

She got Igor to get ready for the day, just in case they needed to make a quick escape, and then moved him to another room, one with a warm fireplace and comfortable seating. Igor was relaxing, and Asta was sitting beside him, keeping an eye out for any signs of danger. Not that she was armed, but she didn’t require a sword to fight anymore.

It wasn’t long before they heard the sound of a crutch, and so they both looked up. Asta was grinning, and she gestured to Ivar. “Maðr minn,” she told Igor. She stood to go to Ivar, and kissed his cheek lovingly.

“Cholovik,” Igor said then, and Asta repeated the word.

Ivar gave her a tight-lipped smile and a short hum, coming into the room more. Igor gestured for him to sit on the small stool, and Asta went back to her seat beside Igor. Ivar was still smiling, but then he almost seemed to cough. The moment he coughed again, he leaned forward, and she realized he wasn’t coughing, but gagging. An image of Askold falling to the poison filtered through her mind, and she suddenly sound her heart pounding. He couldn’t have been poisoned.

Suddenly, he popped a small ball out of his mouth, which he then produced and looked at as if stunned. He coughed again and suddenly spat out two more balls, high up into the air, and he caught them both, before showing them all to Igor. The boy was laughing, and Asta relaxed a little. Ivar was fine, and only trying to play a joke on Igor.

Igor hopped up and ran to grab what looked like some sort of instrument, which he returned to his seat and began to play. While he was gone, Asta got up and wandered over to Ivar, her hands going to his shoulders and her chin resting on his head. “You scared me,” she told him. She pressed a kiss to his hair, and he turned to look up at her, humming.

“I did not mean to,” he said. He kissed her stomach as an apology.

The truth was, though they had kissed the night before, and though both had confessed things to the other, neither could be sure what exactly that meant for them, and it wasn’t as if they had time to discuss it. They kept up the affectionate relationship they showed to those around theirselves, but when it was only them? Who knew what would come of it?

Ivar relaxed quite a bit as he listened to Igor playing, and Asta couldn’t help but kiss his head once more. She knew how badly he’d wanted to be a father, and she wished so badly that his son hadn’t died. It made her heart ache to see how badly he still wanted it.

The sound of approaching footprints reached their ears, but neither of them looked away from Igor just yet. They wanted him to finish his song before they looked away. So, when he did, they all turned to look at Oleg. He said something in his own tongue to Igor, and then, “Asta, Ivar?” With that, he turned and left. Ivar gave a great sigh, pulling himself to his feet.

“Woof, woof,” Ivar grumbled, and Asta chuckled quietly. She turned to glance at Igor, who seemed disappointed, and so she reached down and brushed a hand through his hair. He gave her a small smile, which she returned, before leaving with Ivar to follow Oleg.

They walked into the main hall, though Oleg hung back, and so Ivar sat in one of the chairs at the table, Asta sitting to his immediate right. Many Queens sat to the left of their Kings, but not her. She was first and foremost his Prophet. She would sit at his right hand.

Oleg’s brother, who had been introduced to Asta as Prince Dir, was pacing the room as they waited on the Prince Regent himself. Eventually, he joined them, eating an apple. All eyes turned to him, and Dir said, “You have had two hours. What is your decision?”

Asta looked confusedly to Ivar, assuming he would explain to her, and he did. It was a quick explanation of the situation, how Dir was threatening Oleg and the two of them in exchange for custody of Igor.

“I told you,” Dir said to Oleg. “Hand over the boy, or I kill you and the cripple. And his Queen, as she has joined us.”

A glare narrowed Asta’s eyes as she sat up straighter, leaned over more toward Ivar. Clearly, she took that threat seriously, and didn’t intend for it to go through. Oleg gave a hum, and took another bite of his apple.

“Perhaps you have forgotten what I said. I said, ‘unless you release the four of us, unharmed, then in a day or so, a terrible thing will happen to you’.”

“I don’t believe you,” Dir replied. “You don’t really have second sight.”

“I think maybe you should believe him,” Ivar spoke up, watching the two Princes.

“What has this to do with you?” Dir questioned.

“Nothing,” Ivar said. He smirked. “Everything.”

Dir chuckled, unconvinced. “You are bluffing,” he told Oleg. “But let me give you the benefit of the doubt, and ask you a question only a true Prophet could answer.”

Asta and Ivar shared a look, considering she too was called Prophet. Would this be something he would want to test in her as well, or only in Oleg?

“I recently got married,” Dir said. “In secret.” Asta found her eyes darting to Ivar, only to find his eyes quickly looking back to Dir. So they’d had the same thought, then. Interesting. “The identity of my wife is only known to a few trusted servants. Not even Askold knew about my nuptials and the name of my wife. But I assume…” He turned slowly to face Oleg once more. “That you know. Don’t you, brother?”

He had approached Oleg, who was sitting on the table finishing his apple, but now stood to his full height, almost making Dir have to take a step back. Almost complete silence filled the room, aside from the natural sound which couldn’t be avoided. Oleg eventually confirmed, “I know your wife’s name. I know everything.”

He smirked and walked around to the side of the table, not noticing the skeptical look Ivar and Asta shared. He was eating their lies right out of their hands. How could he possibly know everything?

The brief realization that he could, in fact, be pretending occurred to them both, but they also both elected to ignore it. They’d rather survive this encounter first, then deal with Oleg later.

“What are you waiting for?” Dir ended up pushing. “Tell me her name.” When Oleg remained silent, Dir chuckled. “You see?” he called, turning to face his soldiers. “He doesn’t know her name. He’s bluffing after all!” He scoffed and gave a small shake of his head. “I knew it…You don’t know her name.”

“Anna.”

Ivar and Asta looked at Oleg when he spoke. Almost as quickly as they had done that, they looked to Dir for confirmation. They couldn’t see the way his face fell, especially as Oleg repeated, “Her name is Anna,” but the silence was telling as it was. “You were married at the church of St. Magnus Martyr here in Novgorod. I believe… this is the lady in question.”

He stepped aside, and Asta and Ivar turned to see a young woman standing there, clearly feeling quite anxious. Asta couldn’t hold in a gasp, and Ivar put his hand on her arm to calm her. She didn’t need to give away that she hadn’t known. After all, wasn’t she meant to be a Prophet, too?

Dir turned as well to face the girl called Anna, and the unsettled look that passed through his eyes made Oleg begin to laugh. “Am I right?” he questioned, though they all knew he had been. “This is your new bride, Anna.”

Ivar couldn’t help himself in applauding, though Asta did not. That seemed to be the image they gave off, these days. Ivar would approve of something Oleg might have done, and though Asta wouldn’t give her disapproval, she wouldn’t give her approval, either.

“Now, my dearest brother,” Oleg began. “You will give the four of us safe passage out of here, or my promise will come true.”

There were a few moments of tense silence, while all waited to see what Dir would do. Even he himself didn’t seem quite to know, until he commanded finally, “Order the warriors to stand down. Prince Oleg and his party should be untroubled when they leave, if they agree not to harm my wife.”

Ivar seemed stunned they were getting away with this, and Asta tried to just keep a small smile on her lips, as if she had expected this. Oleg, however, seemed almost offended, a bit concerned. “I don’t need to harm your wife,” he said, and then turned to her, calling, “Anna, come. Come!”

She ran from where she had been standing to Prince Dir, who wrapped an arm tightly and protectively around her. Asta chose to stand, and begin making her way toward the three gathered opposite the table from herself and Ivar.

“We meet so rarely, Dir,” Oleg said as she made her approach. “It’s unfortunate that it has to be in such circumstances. But the next time… will be different.”

“You have the boy,” Dir said, his eyes only briefly glancing over to Asta as she came to a stop beside Oleg. “You don’t need to see me again.”

“But we are family,” Oleg protested. “Family is important!” Dir took his wife by the arm and started to leave the hall, but Oleg called out his name. When his brother turned, he suggested, “We should stay in touch.”

“Perhaps,” Dir said vaguely. “Just don’t invite me for dinner.”

With that, they started off, but not without Ivar calling after them, “You forgot to say goodbye to the cripple!”

The door closed.

“Well,” Asta sort of huffed. “He was pleasant.”

“He is going to come for Igor,” Oleg said. “We need to return to Kiev, and we need to take control of the situation.”

Asta walked back to the table, which she rested her hands on and then leaned fully against. There was silence as they all thought, and she finally spoke up. “We need to move Igor to safety as well as eliminating the threat,” she said. “If we can capture Dir…”

“Yes,” Oleg agreed. “Then we will have all the pieces to this puzzle accounted for.”

“Then that’s what we do,” Asta said, and gave a curt nod, straightening again. “Ivar, let’s go get Igor. Oleg, be ready to go as soon as we’re ready. We can’t waste any time.”

Oleg nodded, and it was only once Asta and Ivar had left that he realized she had entirely taken over his plans. She knew how to command a room. Of course, she had been Queen in Kattegat- one of them- and he was beginning to believe she was the more militant of the two. Perhaps she had stood with Ivar in each war meeting, perhaps she had gone into battle with him each time he went. It certainly made sense- if one wanted to bring an entire room of Viking men to heel, they had to be able to command that sort of respect from them. He simply… hadn’t expected that from the previously rather quiet woman.

What else might she be capable of, that he would not expect?

“You are planning something.”

Asta couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips as she heard how good Ivar was getting at speaking her tongue. His fluency was improving, the more they used it to keep their words to themselves.

“Of course I am,” she replied. “I don’t trust Oleg as far as I could throw him, and I don’t like Dir. But having them both in Kiev, an eventual decision between them will be easier to make, and I want them both where an eye can be kept on them.”

Ivar’s eyes widened a bit, and he nodded. “You have a talent for strategizing, don’t you?” he commented, looking to her. Asta laughed a little.

“Of course,” she said. “How else do you think I actually convinced my brother to send me to Kattegat?”

He hummed as he considered that, and nodded. “The gods have… allowed much to be taken from me since that day you arrived,” he mused, walking along beside her. “But they have also given me the best ally I could have asked for.”

Asta shot him a look as if she were devastated. “Don’t tell me you buy into everything Oleg says?” she questioned, and Ivar chuckled.

“Of course not,” he said, and bumped her. “You know I meant you.”

“Yes, I did,” she said. “I just wanted you to say it.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her words, shaking his head in an affectionately amused sort of way. They’d be back to Kiev soon, and he knew her plans would work well for them. Letting Dir be captured and brought there would help them, in some way, eventually. But, they would take their time in getting to know the boy, Igor, and just as Oleg had said- he would be the key to all of this. They only needed to determine which door he would need to unlock.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @wilhelmyna, @katfett, @fangirl-nonsense, @zuzus-sun, @heavenly1927, @pomegranates-and-blood, @kingniazx

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you!

[cocovikings23]

New Start - Chapter 2 (Modern Ivar x Reader)

This is a new chapter. Again, I’m sorry for my bad english :)

Chapter 2: First day

You woke up very early this morning despite the fact that you had a horrible night. You saw all the hours scrolling by on your smartphone and all because of what? This morning is your first day of work at Ragnar & Sons Corporation.

You decide to dress soberly so as not to draw attention to yourself, you are very discreet by nature even though you have a very strong character. You take your black pencil skirt, a white top with black dots. You thread your stockings before perfecting your outfit of these clothes which cost you an arm. For the make-up, you opt for a purple eye shadow with a light pink tint, a little mascara to raise your long lashes and a gloss color peach. On your last birthday, you were lucky, there's no other word for it, that your friends gave you the pair of Louboutin that you were looking at on the internet. It's fitting that you should wear them today: working in the largest trading company in Kattegat.

After you have prepared yourself properly, you take your small purse, your bag with your laptop and you run out of your apartment to get your Uber which awaits you at the bottom of your building. In the car, you have time to reminisce about that weird interview with Ivar. And especially his last sentence: "I should punish you". Are you going to have a relationship with the boss who fantasizes about his employee? Or is it just a kind of hazing to say that you are well integrated into their company? You can't answer any of these questions, only Ivar can, but of course you're not going to ask him.

After a ride of about fifteen minutes, your Uber will drop you off at your new job. You get out of the car, walk into the main hall, nod to the secretaries aka Miss Kardashian, and wait in front of the elevator after calling him. Behind you, you hear the Kardashian sisters giggling, you turn around and see Hvitserk and Ubbe flirting with them. You look up to the sky and sigh "Those Lothbrocks are real flirts". Hvitserk glances at you and starts running towards you before you get on the elevator. "Hey Y/N, how are you? Ready for your first day? "he kisses you on the cheek. "Yes I'm fine, well a little stressed, I'd say a lot."

Ubbe joins the conversation after leaving the four secretaries in a trance. It is that Ubbe was the spitting image of Ragnar, he is tall, chestnut hair in a bun, a well-groomed beard, she looks soft and silky, eyes of an exceptional blue, but not as much as those of Ivar.

He stood up to you, "You're with us, everything is going to be all right. And while we're waiting for the final layout of your office, you're going to move into Hvitserk's and my office. »

"Oh", you are more than surprised, "thank you I hope I'm not disturbing you too long", you blush. "I hope you're not disturbing us," Hvitserk replied, "it's going to be a change to have female company with us," he elbowed his brother with a wink, Ubbe chuckled shyly.

The three of you enter the elevator, you arrive in a few seconds on the 15th floor, there are more people than last time in the corridors, the staff is shaking all over the place. "He's in a bad mood this morning," says Ubbe pouting to Hvitserk.

"Yes, it's going to be another difficult day," confirms Hvitserk.

"What?  Who's in a bad mood? "You say in a panic, Ubbe puts his hand around your waist to take you to their office. "Come on, we'll explain, but not here, he might hear us.

Their office is as big as Ivar's, there are three desks, two of which face each other and the third is in the corner near the entrance. They are the same color dark wood, there are computers on each of them, pencil pots and on the brothers' you can see a pile of files rather badly arranged. You turn to the last desk, assuming it is yours. You put your stuff on it, Hvitserk waves you to sit on the chair he just brought you. Ubbe clears his throat "You know that our little brother needs a crutch and braces to walk? "You nod slightly, Ubbe continued, "In fact, since birth he has had a bone disease, bones can break into a thousand pieces. He underwent several surgeries to get to this point today. And sometimes, depending on the weather, his state of fatigue or if he is upset, his legs make him suffer. »

"I understand," you looked down, the thought that Ivar could suffer broke your heart, you are confused to feel such feelings of empathy for him.

"And then with women it's complicated, they only see his twisted legs," Hvitserk added. "Hvitty, don't say that, this is neither the time nor the place," Ubbe exclaimed, giving his little brother a dark look, and then he continued, "Well, I think it's time to get to work, Y/N, if you'll take the trouble to sit down," showing you your desk chair.

"Thank you Ubbe, that's nice," you whisper softly. You settle comfortably in your leather armchair, take your laptop and open it. Hvitserk gives you many files for the day's work, he explains between the lines who their collaborators are by adding a few jokes. You sit comfortably in your leather chair, take your laptop and open it. Hvitserk gives you many files  You even assume that he is flirting with you, but you don't pay any more attention to that. You haven't seen Ivar yet and you wanted to say hello to him to thank him again for giving you this work opportunity. You concentrate and quickly get to work.

After a few minutes, Ivar stormed into the room, his face closed and he is very upset about what you can see, "Fucking English people, Ecbert and his son don't make it easy for us !  "he shouted, "Ivar, my brother, what's going on? "Ubbe worried. Ivar sat down on a chair next to his big brother's desk and said, "What's going on is that Ecbert wants to review our agreement concerning the branch we are to establish in England ! This bastard has his conditions before signing the final contract...".

"Let father take care of it, he went there to talk about it with Ecbert and Aethelwulf. Trust him, Ivar," Ubbe reassured Ubbe.

"In any case, we have to talk about it together, meeting at 2 pm in the great hall ! "ordered Ivar, then he gets up, takes his crutch and goes towards the door. He turns to you and says "Welcome among us Y/N, I hope you don't regret it! "he opens the door and leaves.

You didn't have time to tell him anything, all you thought was that your relationship with Ivar was going to be complicated. But nothing frightens you, you tell yourself that he is just a human being, with his good and bad sides, but we are all like that. You just have to get to know him.

The fateful hour of the meeting came very quickly, you take a notebook, a pen and you go into the big room with your two office roommates. The three of you enter, you see Sigurd and Björn already settled in, they greet you with a nod and a broad smile. Hvitserk had already introduced them to you on the day of your interview. Ivar arrives last, still upset, and settles down at the end of the table, like a king leading his kingdom. He signals to his brothers to summarize the situation with the English and the famous Ecbert. You take notes, and remain silent. In spite of everything, you feel an insistent look on you, it was Ivar's, he hasn't taken his eyes off you for long minutes. You thought it was a kind of test to destabilize you, but you remained neutral. You keep taking notes until the end of the meeting. Ivar frees you all to go about your business.

You return to your office to finish the big file you started in the early afternoon. After an hour or two of long concentration, Hvitserk and Ubbe leave the office to go home. They say goodbye to you, Hvitserk, give you a kiss on the cheek before adding "Don't work too late on your first day, don't forget to rest, tomorrow is another day! "while Ubbe is content with a kiss on the hand and a beautiful catalog smile. You laugh and wave goodbye. You hadn't finished your file, you absolutely wanted to close it today.

You've finally finished, it's already 7pm, oh gods, you haven't seen how much time has passed, you tell yourself that you'll probably be alone upstairs when everyone has left. You gather your things, you go to the elevator, you press the button when you feel a presence behind you. You look over your shoulder, he is standing there close to you: Ivar.

"It is not good to wander the corridors alone, Y/N ," he says in a dark tone as he stands next to you.

"I was finishing a file, I wanted to close it today so that I could have peace of mind about the others tomorrow. "you say calmly. The elevator arrives at your level, Ivar waves to let you pass, you enter followed by Ivar.

He presses the button on the first floor, the doors close, the elevator starts to go down.

There is a long silence in the elevator until it reaches the required level, the doors begin to open, you put one foot forward to get out but Ivar takes you by the arm, puts you against the wall, wedges you against his body and kiss you passionately. You are surprised, you realize with astonishment that you are not rejecting him but giving him back his kiss. He stopped it after a few seconds, you are both panting, you stare at each other. Ivar gets out of the elevator, he turns around and says "I hope your first day was satisfactory", then he left.

Oh gods, what shit are you in?

@youbloodymadgenius @therealcalicali @whenimaunicorn @peaceisadirtyword @waiting4inspiration @oddsnendsfanfics @vikings-imagine @zuxiezendler

[thetomorrowshow]

a jig in plaited time

Happy holidays, @under-the-blue-moonlight ! I really enjoyed writing up some intrulogical content for you (and this may actually get additional chapters lol, I’m really happy with it).

Here is your @sanderssidesgiftxchange gift!

ships: Intrulogical, background Royality

cw: anxiety, intrusive thoughts, panic attack, mannequins, mentions of food

~

Why was Remus at the mall?

That was a simple question, with a just as simple answer. He was at the mall for a suit and tie, one he needed for his brother's wedding. It needed to be “salmon” or whatever, with a blue tie.

A much less simple answer was to the next question.

Why was Remus at the mall on Black Friday?

In all honesty, Remus hadn't known about Black Friday until he arrived. He hadn't really had a good feeling about it on the way here, but he'd paid no mind to his instincts. He didn't often have a good feeling about anything. There had been far too many cars for this time of morning on a weekday. What had really tipped him off, though, was the huge sign in the window of Nordstrom's.

'BLACK FRIDAY SALE!'

Even at that point he wasn't entirely sure what that meant. It became far more clear when he entered the building to find it absolutely packed. Well, there could be an upside to this. Maybe there would be a sale on the suit he needed.

Remus hadn't been this close to someone since he was in the womb, and he could not say that he was very comfortable with it. Remus didn't care much for close spaces and touching people, he hadn't since middle school. It just made him feel sort of icky.

As soon as possible, he ducked out of Nordstrom's, only to find that the rest of the mall was in a similar condition. JC Penney actually looked worse. Normally when Remus was feeling overwhelmed, he'd sidle into Hot Topic or somewhere else with obnoxiously loud music. By drowning his feelings in the noise, he generally was able to recollect himself. The mall was certainly loud, but not in a good way at all. Even if he tried to find someplace with music, he wouldn't be able to enjoy it with all these people.

Remus was stressed. But he needed this suit, seeing as his brother's wedding was literally tomorrow. Why did he leave it this late? Well, Remus knew he was nothing if not a master procrastinator. He also knew he couldn’t be the only one.

Remus waded his way through the crowd to a relatively people-free corner and wiggled his phone out of the pockets of his definitely too-small jeans (not that he'd admit they were too small out loud—his brother had told him they were on every occasion he wore them) and texted the wedding group chat.

Remus: hey im at the mall. anything yall need?

Robro: Why are you at the mall on black friday?

Patty-Cake: ooh can you get me a pair of sunglasses? Mine broke last week

Remus: sure. stuff for wedding?

Robro: idk. Let me ask mom

Remus shoved his phone back in his pocket, then extracted it again as it buzzed a moment later.

Robro: Yeah mom says get some classy decor or something

Ant: I don't think remus knows what classy means

Remus: shut up i got this

Toby: wait what's going on? It's like 10am why are you all awake

Robro: idk if you knew this tobes but I'm getting married tomorrow

Toby: shut up man

Ant: even Remy knows

Sleep: even i know loser

Remus: toby do u need help

Toby: I hate it heeere

Patty-Cake: Aw Toby that isn't very nice! And good morning everyone!

Robro: hello sunshine!! <3

Sleep: i need you both to not start that

Remus: get a room dorks

Okay, classy decor. Sunglasses for the groom. Pink suit. Blue tie. Probably some dress shoes. A wedding present. Dress socks too. Did Remus need to have a tie pin? He'd ask later. Napkins, definitely. No one ever had enough napkins at events. Did he need to have a pocket handkerchief?

Remus checked the list of what his suit needed that Roman had sent him a month or two ago. Yes, a blue pocket square. This was a lot.

Remus swallowed back his sudden panic and took a few deep breaths, jamming his still-buzzing phone back into his pocket. He could do this. Sunglasses first, there was a Sunglasses Hut within eyesight. All he had to do was fight through the crowd.

He reached the kiosk with few incidents and surveyed the sleek glasses for five minutes before seeing a pair that were shaped like a cartoon frog. Patton would love those. And if he didn't, then Remus just got a neat pair of sunglasses! He purchased the glasses and moved on to the next place to conquer.

-

By the time Remus was back at Nordstrom's, he was completely out of energy. Nordstrom's had two levels, and so much stuff, and so many people. He still had to get the suit and socks, and the wedding present. Maybe it seemed like he hadn't done much, but he had actually done a lot, considering how busy the mall was. He'd barely escaped a fistfight outside of the electronics store. The fact that he'd been able to get shoes and so-called 'classy decor' and napkins? Remus was pretty proud, all things considered.

Nordstrom's was even busier than when he left, which was certainly distressing. Remus couldn't even see any clothes. Was that a mannequin or a really tall lady? Was that the escalator, or a bunch of people climbing on top of each other?

What if I set off a bomb right here? Would the whole tower fall down, the ones on top not actually hurt until they hit the ground?

Remus shook off the intrusive thought. This was getting bad. It was already almost one—that meant that not only was he stressed, but he was getting hungry. His thoughts would continue to devolve until he got out of here and got some food.

I could eat that man! That would certainly clear the place out, and I'm sure he's delicious!

Remus groaned. He needed to sit down, but there were no seats free anywhere. He hefted his bags higher on his shoulders and forged on. He had to get this suit, or else the wedding would be ruined. The man in question (who was fairly attractive) bumped him, and Remus had to close his eyes to fight his brain. This was getting out of hand.

There was a little square cut out in the wall where a headless mannequin stood, no doubt showing off the latest in boys' fashion. Remus ducked between its legs and pushed his back up against the wall, knees drawn up close to his chest. He pulled out his phone with some difficulty.

Remus: hey so ro does my suit need a tie pin

Robro: Don't worry abt it, mom got matching tie pins for everyone

Sleep: ree babes are you buying ur suit now?

Remus: shut up

Sleep: on black friday?

Remus: no

Ant: did you even know it was black friday

Remus: ...

Toby: wait the wedding is tmrrw

Robro: Believe me tobias I'm aware

Remus: yah ik im not buying the whole suit just shoes

Robro: Good I almost had a heart attack, you almost certainly wouldn't be able to find one

Now truly panicking, Remus dropped his phone onto his stomach and buried his fists in his hair. How was he supposed to find a salmon suit and a blue tie, as well as nice socks? Plus a wedding present? Especially in this crowd, when he had no clue where to even look for a suit. And he still had to go to the party tonight, then the wedding tomorrow, and it was so loud. Everyone was yelling over each other, and Remus couldn't even hear his own thoughts—except the bad ones. Why did he have to put this off so long? He needed out, he wasn't going to be able to get any of the stuff, he was going to ruin the wedding, like he ruined everything—

“Hello, may I help you?”

Remus looked up—at least, as up as he could look, with a mannequin just above him—to see a bespectacled store clerk looking down at him. 'Logan', his nametag read.

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it again before a string of curses could come out. He really wasn't doing well. There was just too much, too much everything.

“Is there anything I can help you find?” Logan asked, his voice rumbling a bit—or maybe it was the thunder of people in the shop. Whatever it was, it made Remus's stomach drop a little.

“Um, uh, pink!” If Remus had any shame, he would have slapped his own face. As it was, he started trying to pantomime a suit while stuck in a tiny hollow in the wall. Logan watched kindly, his face not betraying the disgust he was probably feeling.

“Pink what? Shirt?” Logan guessed. Remus shook his head, running his hands down his legs. Pants too, pants too.

“Pink . . . coat? Shorts? Pants?”

Remus traced back over his arms, almost crying. Here he was, bothering this poor clerk with his stupid non-verbal self.

“A pink suit?”

Remus jumped for joy, hitting his head on the crotch of the mannequin, instantly shuddering at the thoughts that flooded into his head. Logan held out a hand, and Remus took it, allowing himself to be pulled out of the wall.

“I can direct you to the suit section, right this way.”

Remus let himself be led by Logan, who occasionally looked back to make sure he was still there. The man had a curly mop of dark hair, and was slightly shorter than he was—not that it was a problem. Or anything important. Remus wasn't looking for a date. He was inconveniencing a store clerk on Black Friday. Although, he did need a plus one for the wedding. . . .

No, it was out of the question. He didn't even know this man. Roman would be upset if he ruined the wedding even more by showing up with some rando who would probably jump in the wedding cake or spill food all over the nice tablecloths or turn out to be really ugly because he was just wearing a mask made of someone else's face.

“Here is where the suits are. Do you need anything else?”

Remus stared at him, his mouth opening and shutting a few times. He wanted to say something stupid, like yeah, I need those eyes in my life, or something far more obscene, but he was okay. He could do this. He could survive peopling.

Logan gave him a sympathetic smile. “I can help you find the right suit, if that's what you require.”

Before he could stop himself, Remus was nodding. He let Logan pull him past a crying couple and two arguing families to a rack of suit coats that were red.

“Will these suffice?” the clerk asked, gesturing at them. Remus frowned. They weren't pink. Was the man messing with him? Seeing his look, Logan checked the tag and groaned. “Apologies, I'm colorblind. I could have sworn these were pink. Hopefully the last customer who I pointed this way was not upset.”

That was a joke, right? Remus almost laughed, but knew if he did he would start crying. Logan led him through the crowd with seemingly unending patience, occasionally smiling gently at him. Remus felt his heartrate spike every time one of those smiles was sent his way, but for a reason completely unrelated to the overpowering noise and crowd.

Logan found him a probably very nice pink suit—Remus wasn't really looking at it. Then Logan was kind enough to let him into an employee restroom to try it on, seeing as the dressing rooms had a line that ran all the way to the front doors. It fit nicely, tight (though not as tight as his jeans) and sleek, accompanied with a blue tie that Logan had found while he was changing.

“That looks very sharp on you, sir,” Logan informed him, as Remus blushed.

“Remus,” he blurted out. Logan raised his eyebrows.

“After the character in Roman mythology?” asked Logan, his tone betraying something like excitement. Remus nodded, then looked down at the tie.

“We—didn't look at—at ties yet,” he stammered, trying to make his voice work. “Where—?”

“Ah, it happens to be one of mine,” Logan said. For the first time, he looked a little uncomfortable. “I keep one in my locker for emergencies, and I thought it would look nice on—it would look nice. With the suit.”

Remus finally found the courage to smile back. “Thanks, Specs. Uh, sorry for taking up so much of your time. I'll just buy this, it's dope.”

“Oh no, I do not at all mind assisting you,” Logan said quickly. “At least I don't have to deal with . . . whatever is going on.”

“You could assist me by being my date!”

Logan stared.

Remus clapped a hand over his mouth.

“. . . What?”

“Nothing, nothing nothing,” said Remus. “I just—um—you need to get your tie back right? And I—if you let me, of course—I could just wear it, save money and all that, and you could come and then take it home so that I don't steal it or whatever?” He scrunched his eyes up, turning away so as to catch no sight of Logan rejecting him. Why did he have to say that? The noise pressed down on him again; despite still being in the staff restroom, it was almost too loud to bear.

“Wear it . . . where?”

Remus would already be curled up on the floor were it not for the very un-purchased suit he was currently wearing. “Um, my brother's wedding tomorrow?” he chanced, hands clenched over his eyes.

The utter disbelief in Logan's voice was clear as a bell. “You are buying a suit . . . for a wedding . . . that is tomorrow. On Black Friday, of all days.”

Tears choked Remus's throat. “Y-yeah, I'm really bad at planning.” Why was he even asking this cute clerk out anyway? Just because Roman kept teasing him for not having a date to the wedding? Or did he actually have a crush on Logan?

He searched his feelings briefly, and found almost instantly that he for sure had a crush. Okay, that was a lot to deal with right now. They had just met! It was just . . . the way he smiled at him, the way he didn't abandon him even though he'd been having a panic attack for about an hour at this point, how gentle and kind he was. Not to mention how put-together he was. And his hair? That was just hot.

Now though, just seconds after realizing he liked Logan, the guy was going to reject him because he had run his stupid mouth. Remus cringed. The silence had gone on for far too long.

“Well, I expect you to pick me up an hour before the event begins. I do not currently have my own means of transportation. You are quite fortunate that I do not work tomorrow.”

Wait.

What?

“You—you really—?” Remus's voice broke. He jumped as Logan lay a warm hand over his own, which were still pressed into his eyes.

“Of course,” Logan said kindly. “I know very little about you, but I rather feel that—and no offense meant—you will be distressed at such a large event as a wedding. I would love to continue to assist you.” He coughed, then added, “Also, the streak in your hair is very attractive.”

Remus almost sighed in relief. This was okay. He let Logan pull his hands away from his face, then ran a sleeve over his eyes and nose. Logan froze.

“Well, now you have to buy that suit,” Logan said. As an aside, he muttered, “At least it looks good on you.”

“Aw, Lo, you think I look hot?” Remus asked shakily, managing a smile. “What about my jeans? Think I look good in tight clothes?”

Logan turned away, unfortunately letting go of Remus's hands, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Are you always this insufferable?”

Remus slung an arm around his shoulder. “Yep! And you're stuck with me for a whole date!”

Logan pushed his glasses up his nose. “If it doesn't work out, we can just pretend we never met, if you like. We will both move on with our lives. There is no obligation that comes with this date, we are both free to back out at any time.”

Remus quickly retracted his arm from Logan's shoulder, then nodded. That made sense. He did like Logan, and he didn't want to upset him. Shameless flirting was definitely on the table, though.

“When's your lunch break?” Remus asked, as casually as possible. Logan snorted.

“I only have a twenty minute lunch today, they don't want me to leave them without as much help as possible.” Logan went to open the door and exit the restroom, then glanced back. “One o'clock. I plan on getting a sandwich at the Subway in the hall outside of the store. It would be wonderful if someone would wait in line for me and order me an Italian BMT and a bag of potato chips, so that I am not late in returning.”

Remus grinned. Easy-peasy, and just like that he would get to spend some time with Logan before the wedding.

Logan made to leave, but Remus grabbed his arm. “One sec, hot stuff,” he said, butterflies racing through his stomach at Logan's blush, “not to bother you any more or anything, but do you have any suggestions for a wedding present?”

The utter disbelief on Logan's face completely wiped out any blush that had been there. “The wedding is tomorrow, Remus.”

Remus's breath caught. Logan said his name. It sounded so beautiful coming from him. If a heavenly chorus had been singing around him at that moment, it would have been dull compared to Logan saying his name.

Logan sighed. “Of course I have some ideas. Do you need anything else?”

Remus pulled himself together, then grabbed his phone from the pile of his clothes on the floor. He checked the list, ignoring the notifications from the group chat.

“Uh, yeah. A pocket square to match the tie, and some nice socks.”

“That's doable. Tell me about your brother and his partner while we find those items. Perhaps you and I can put together an ideal gift.” Logan stepped out of the restroom to give Remus privacy while he changed back into his clothes. Remus shucked the suit off as quickly as possible. All the intense stimulation had blurred into the background, Logan being the only buzz he needed to keep going.

Remus didn't often have a good feeling about anything, but this? Oh yeah, there was definitely something good here.