#no wait you'll have to wait for that sorry

[suiana]

thinking about a yandere who was cursed by the gods (something similar to medusa), not because he did anything wrong, but because they found him too beautiful and too tempting.

what was once a god of a man was now but... still a handsome man, just with cursed eyes. with eyes that turn anyone into stone the second he gazes upon them. everyone who he once knew were now nothing more than mere statues, having glanced upon his beautiful eyes that now bring death.

he has chosen to live in solitude, away from everyon- well, not really. it's just that the once lively place he lived in.... wasn't so lively after all. i mean, they all turned into stone 💀

anyway, he shut everyone out because #1 they were all dead and #2 he didn't want to lose another person that he loved. what better way than to just... not interact with society and become a social hermit?

enter, you.

little ol' you who accidentally wandered into his place. he was flabbergasted and terrified. shit, he didn't want to kill an innocent person! so he tried to scare you away by making weird noises and blockign off your path while simultaneously not showing his eyes.

but wow, you just kept coming closer and closer!

"stay back! i'm warning you! you'll regret it!"

he tried to cover his eyes, tears threatening to spill from them as he absolutely majestiv form trembled on the spot. man, was he really about to take the life of another innocent person who didn't deserve to get turned into stone??

then you told him you were blind and he felt the fear leave his body as fast as it came.

from then on, the two of you chatted daily, talking about your different lives and such. it helped him regain a sense of... normalcy that he thought he'd forgotten. it was nice having you around.

so much so that he actually started to develop feelings for you. feelings that were so deep and obsessive that others would've probably ran away. not you though, never you. you were the only one to stay by his side despite his unusal predicament. perhaps the gods were sorry for playing such a cruel fate on him and decided to give him a blessing?

wrong.

"sweetheart! sweetheart! it's a miracle!"

your voice snaps him out of his daze, filling him with a giddy feeling that he's come to love and crave. oh you are just so delightful! he swears he could just lock you up to coddle you in hugs and kisses for the rest of his miserable little life!

"darling? what miracle?"

he pauses, feeling his heart drop into his stomach the second you enter his room without your usual glasses on. wait... what are you-

"i've regained my sight! bless the heavens above i-"

"no! no! no! don't look!"

but it was all for naught. you had already turned to stone.

"fuck! why did this happen?! no no no.... please wake up. please, you can't leave me too!"

the beautiful man sobs, cradling you in his arms as his salty tears fall onto your now stone cold cheeks. he cries and begs, voice growing softer and softer as the sun begins to set. how could the gods be so cruel? what had he done so wrong for them to subject him to such a fate? fine! take away his friends! take away his family! but why did they have to take you too?

"please come back...."

things were only made worse because today was the day when he'd finally decided to ask you to spend the rest of your lives together.

[alchemistc]

The call comes in just after 2 PM, and Tommy's in the air five minutes later. White male, early thirties, took a tumble off the incline at one of the intermediate hiking points near Griffith Park, the engine can't winch him up without exacerbating his injuries.

It's a quick flight. Nothing remarkable at all, until Hurst has been down on the ground for a few minutes too long and then Tommy's captain is on the radio asking him to hand over the controls to his copilot the moment he lands at Presbyterian.

He's pissed about it the entire length of time it takes for the winch to pull up Hurst and their new passenger - time and a half for a 48 hour stretch isn't anything to scoff at.

And then he hears Hurst rattling off information as the door shuts, and he's desperately trying to remind himself that no amount of outside noise has ever distracted him before.

Evan Buckley, 33, moderate concussion, sprained ankle, three broken fingers, possible broken ribs, pulse is steady but BP is trending high.

Happy fucking Thanksgiving.

---

Tommy's phone rings as they're making the handoff at, and he answers more out of habit than anything else. It's Cap again.

"You can either ride shotgun back and be man behind or I can shift your time and a half somewhere else because you've had a family emergency," Hobbes says, and Tommy would love to have a snappy retort but he's still thinking about the way Buck had come out of it enough to tell Hurst his boyfriend - "ex-boyfriend, sorry" - flies for 217 too. Hobbes clears his throat. "Considering your last family emergency was when I forced you to take a holiday off, I know which one I'd choose."

Tommy blinks. They're almost to the doors.

"I'll see you in a few days, Captain," Tommy murmurs and hauls ass towards the retreating medical team wheeling Buck into the hospital.

---

He'd listened while Hurst and her partner - a loan from 136 he still hasn't actually been introduced to - pumped some pain meds to keep Buck from hurting himself more, but it's still a surprise to see how zonked he looks, pupils wide and eyes glassy as he blinks slow blinks up at the ceiling, the doctors, and Tommy.

Buck tries to tip his head sideways when he catches sight of him, and pulls a face when the C collar impedes the movement. A hand snags out, catches on the seam of Tommy's flight suit, and Tommy can't quite help himself. He reaches out and holds the hand in place.

It's easy to keep pace with the orderly as they leave the elevator, and Tommy knows exactly how many doors he's allowed through before he's got to make his way to the waiting room and figure out where the fuck to go from there.

Buck's face is scraped up good on one side, and the hand not in Tommy's is splinted too much for him to catch the full damage. There's more blood than Tommy can consciously account for in the moment, although most of it looks to be drying. The hand in his squeezes. "S-someone should ca-." He winces. Seems to lose his train of thought. Rolls back around to it right before the final set of doors. "You'll call Tommy?" he asks, a desperation on his face that does something ruinous to Tommy's gut, but the orderly has already slowed down and now she's looking a little like she'll shove Tommy off if he doesn't let go of her patient.

Tommy nods. Squeezes. "I'll call Tommy."

Buck's smile is lopsided and loopy as Tommy lets go of his hand.

"Good," he murmurs, and the doors swing wide and then shut behind him, and Tommy spends a solid five minutes staring at the spot where the red striping in the tile at his feet doesn't quite match up to its neighboring tiles.

---

He's a coward, so he calls Eddie first and puts his foot in it immediately.

"Why was Buck alone on a hike on Thanksgiving?" he asks, before Eddie's even finished his greeting, and he's glad he's stepped outside to make this call. He's not moderating his volume at all.

Eddie pauses. Seems to reboot. "Wait, what?"

Tommy recounts what he knows, which isn't a whole hell of a lot, if he's being honest. "So. When can I expect the cavalry?"

Eddie's silent for a beat too long. "I'm in Texas, Tommy. Is he - is it serious? How bad -?"

"He was conscious. Slightly more than superficial injuries. He'll - recover."

He'll be fine doesn't have the right ring to it, when he's just watched the man wheeled away without even recognizing Tommy.

"He went on a hike? What kind of idiot -?" Eddie asks, and then he's silent for a beat too long. "Tommy, don't take this the wrong way, but if there's even a small part of you telling you to make a break for it, do it now before he has a chance to get his hopes up."

Tommy feels it like the knife it's meant to be. It'd be shutting the door, really - in the short term, he'll remember asking someone to let Tommy know, and he'll assume Tommy didn't show. In the long term he'll remember exactly who he'd spoken to and he'll be pissed enough to make it a clean break.

It hasn't even been a month, and Tommy's out of distractions. No work, no house to clean and reorganize, no engines to tinker with, a phone on half battery.

"I need to call Maddie," he says, and he can hear the echo as Eddie shifts to speaker.

"No need. She's on her way. With like, half the station, apparently." He rattles off what must be a text from the group chat.

Tommy shoves down that familiar ache while Eddie sounds off everyone who is currently in the process of abandoning their holiday dinners to come sit in uncomfortable waiting room chairs and twiddle their thumbs. He should leave. Cut the loose threads, take an Uber home, convince his captain he doesn't need Friday off.

He's silent long enough that Eddie feels the need to check and make sure he's still there. There's an ambulance swinging into the bay thirty feet from where Tommy stands.

"You screwed up," Eddie says, and Tommy grimaces, swallows, ignores the thrum of anxiety pooling in his gut. "Showing up for him now would go a long way towards making a reconciliation viable. If that's something you want."

Tommy doesn't know what the fuck he wants, anymore. He's never allowed himself to have it long enough for it to settle. But he knows how it'd felt to know the first person on Evan's mind in the midst of his pain medication haze was Tommy.

Tommy pulls up the first delivery service app he sees and wonders how big a tip he should give for ordering a dozen coffees an hour before closing time on a national holiday. "You know what everyone's usual coffee order is?"

Eddie adds him to a group chat that's going to drain the rest of his battery before Evan's out of surgery.

>>>Part Two

[lorddeathofmurdermountain]

HOLY SHIT YES.

Worked at current job for what is to me a "mere" 4 months but for shift manager is "already" 4 months. Nobody explains shit. If you ask they either say something vague or tell you it doesn't matter. When you ask someone higher up you get dressed down for not knowing it and you can't implicate you weren't taught it bc all the older workers are buddy-buddy and so long as my mentor doesn't murder me he's a perfect angel. Random facts get thrown in your face constantly and you just gotta pretend you've been Totally Doing That this whole time. One moment measuring x is not that important the next if you don't measure it EXACTLY within the specified time frame they're threatening to fire you. One time not doing y one hour within the start of the shift results in an hour-long dressing down during which you can't really Do Work, but if you wanna do it on time another day you're ridiculed for not waiting for the More Convenient Time To Do It. Mess up? Obv you gotta fix it, but watch out! When you do, you'll still get a half hour dressing down for "wasting" 10 minutes fixing it (technically it isn't in your job description). Something that's literally not your fault happens? Welp, sorry, you're the new guy which automatically means everything is your fault. And if you don't feel bad abt it bc, you know, not your fault? Now you're a piece of shit too. Other new guy's mentor badmouths him and throws him under the bus for HIS mistake? Casual fact nobody blinks twice for. Same guy whom his mentor didn't teach shit predictably doesn't know shit? Must be because he's an awful no good crapstain waste of skin.

Don't listen to anyone telling you production jobs are easy bc they're "simple" or "you're not swinging a fucking pickaxe now are you?" People there are constantly raging at shit and if you're not a Speech 100 social butterfly you're fucked. And if you're actually SHY or INTROVERTED? Literally nobody will like you.

Trust me, production workers have all the bad personality traits of construction workers with barely any of the decency, and that's only reserved for people like them.

[ridingtorohan]

𓇻 ft. tulpar crew x gn reader

𓇻 request. the crew's reactions to walking in on reader touching themselves.

𓇻 content. 18+ content, minors dni. potential second hand embarrassment, reader is gender neutral (no genitalia specified), getting caught, masturbation, semi-public masturbation.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Masterlist

By all accounts, Curly is a respectable captain. He respects boundaries and doesn't cross the line. He's the captain, after all. Not having locks on the door is a safety issue, he knows. Just as he knows to knock. It just wasn't on his mind; he needed your help with something and you're technically available.

So he breezes right in, words on his lips and - there you are.

Holy shit, there you are. In all your lewd glory. "Oh." Then, oh. "Sorry, I'm just-" and he doesn't even finish the sentence because he backtracks and shuts the door behind him.

The thing is, that image haunts him, later. Wriggling like an infestation inside his skull. When he sees you, he acts every bit the proper superior, doesn't bat an eye. Internally, he sees flashes of skin, the way you moaned and sighed.

It leaves a lasting impression in his mind and he's so painfully aware of it. Aware of it in more ways than one because he knows nothing can come of this. It's awkward enough walking in on someone, awkward even more when everytime he knocks on your door afterwards, he's praying that you'll be nude and waiting for him.

Late at night, he remembers it, stroking himself and pressing his face into a pillow as his hips jerk, spilling himself over his fingers, wishing that it was your hands on him.

Sometimes, he wishes you'd walk in on him too.

Even Jimmy knows better than to poke through doors, especially when everybody is awake. He's never felt the need to, not with the open door policy and frankly, until this, he's only noticed you in passing.

Nimble as ever, he opens your door, irritated over something that one of the crew members had done the other day. Sometimes, he just liked to vent and rage about the injustice. You're easy to talk to, but he's never really sought you out for anything else before.

The door shuts behind him and he just stands there, previous irritation set to the backburner. Because there you are, uniform discarded and showing off your form, hand between your thighs as you nursed your arousal.

Above all else, Jimmy is a certified voyeur. He likes to watch and admire, drilling inside his head about the way your hand moves, the curve of your spine. Each individual sound. But even Jimmy has his limits.

When you're close or have already come, he slides up behind you, hot breath at your neck, thick hands skimming over your waist, to your thighs, only to settle on top of yours. "As much as I enjoy the view, pet, I'm going to take it from here." And he makes damn good no his promise.

He makes a mental note that to visit your room far more often.

Anya really just needed an answer to a quick question, relating to your latest check in to the medbay (or your duties). She knocks on the door, too softly to be heard over the sound of your activities.

It takes her an embarrassingly long time to even realize what was going on. All she sees is your huddled form. First comes the concern, her hand reaching out for your shoulder, "Are you oka-"

And you let out such a noisy sigh that she freezes. She's gotten laid before and suddenly it hits her like a truck just what she walked into because she knows what those sounds mean. Furiously backpedalling, her hand raises to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

Quietly, she excuses herself from your quarters, ears a little red and hands shaking.

For a long, awkward time afterward, she can't even meet your eyes, even going as far as delegating the psych eval to Curly.

If you ever get injured, she performs it as meticulously as she can, her eyes tracing over every ounce of your body, trying to forget the way you moved.

Frankly, at one point, one of you would have to address what happened. But she's more than eager to ride this bumpy path until then, even if it strains your relationship with her.

Everytime she sees you that familiar, yawning ache simmers in her gut.

As much as she tried to deny it, what she walked in on affected her.

When the tension becomes too much, she finds herself sitting on her leg, grinding herself against her calf, biting the inside of her cheek as she imagines you there.

As stupid as it is, she might have maybe done it in your presence, hands trembling as she tries to keep a conversation going, desk separating you two. Other times, when it becomes unbearable, she rubs her thighs together or slides her calves against the leg of her chair, praying to god that you don't see her. (But half of her hoping that you will.)

He's been looking for you for the better part of half an hour; usually, he finds you in obscure places or with his intern, so the last place he thought to look was in your bedroom. Really, that should have been his first guess. You two were supposed to talk about something and it's been on his mind like a nagging hornet.

Sure, walking into another's room is technically frowned upon, but with all the mishaps of Daisuke barging into people's rooms (much to the disgruntlement of, well, everyone) that for a split second he didn't even consider it.

He just opens the door and - okay, so you're doing that. No wonder you were absent, so engrossed in self pleasure that you didn't even hear him stepping in.

Swansea feels too old for this, seeing your twisted figure, your cries of pleasure. So he just turns around and shuts the door, leaving you to it.

He tucks himself back into a latest project and perusing Daisuke's homework, busying himself until you're finished and in public. Not that he planned to publicly confront you about it, but because he knew everybody needed a little time alone. As small as the Tulpar was, he knew any time and space should be well spent. Even if he silently questioned your methods.

But he does bring it up. He doesn't let it slide (not like how your hands slid between your thighs and-).

Despite whatever personality conflicts you two had, he had eyes and all working parts, thank you very much. He also had needs.

Once the original topic was out of the way, he crossed his arms, expression serious when he says, "Now, it's all my doin' for bargin' in like that, but I saw something of you that I shouldn't have." He'd elaborate if he had to, "If alone time is what you're after, we've got socks for that. Toss it on your door handle and be done with it; I ain't gonna let nobody disturb ya during it."

As awkward as that conversation was, he's handled it before. He has grown kids, after all. But you're not his kid, and you're certainly grown - he's seen that. Noticed it off-hand a few times before too.

He sighs, leaning back, letting you decide when he adds, "But if release is what you're after, I know a thing or two, and I can help you with that."

All but acting like a lost puppy, Daisuke often turned to you for help in locating his missing items. Batteries, dust pan, his gameboy cartridge. (Swansea was so mad the last time he lost the screwdriver and thanked you profusely with your help locating it.) So popping in for a quick minute into your bedroom to ask for your help in locating his soap was a mindless task.

He pops in, door banging, energetic words on his lips. His brain all but sputters when your eyes connect, nude form on the bed, sprawled out, light sheen of sweat on your body, looking like a tribute straight from the gods.

Despite your hasty attempt to cover and a spew of apologies from Daisuke's lips, he can't take his eyes off you. It's like he can't even blink, so absorbed in your image that half of what he's saying doesn't make sense.

You'd have to forcibly remove him because he is rooted to his spot, unable to vacate of his own free will. He'll be banging on your door, pleading to be let back in, to talk it over. He's not sure what he wants to say - more apologies? Explain why he's there? He wants to offer help so badly.

If he's not pushed out at all, his brain ceases to function. Despite being a handsome lad, and being twenty, he's hardly been with anyone. Sure, he knows exactly what you're up to - he's done it himself plenty of times-- but all those words die in his mouth.

"Soap, I swear I'm just looking for soap," he explains, trying to rush into an explanation, the only coherent thing he can say.

He'll eventually manage to sputter, "I was going to go shower, but nowIwannaknowifyouwanttojoinme" is strewn in with "ohmygodpleaseletmehelpyou".

He's all jittery, achingly hard in his pants, wanting to touch and hear you make those sounds again. Daisuke feels like he'll go insane if he doesn't. Hands fidgeting, his fingers curl in, unconsciously taking a few steps in. He'll finally manage a coherent, "Please let me stay."

[arc-misadventures]

Morning. For the Friends Au it appears that Winter is trying to reach out to Jaune... and maybe he sees it and it's confusing him as to why.

Does her each out to Saphron and Terra, and seek their advice?

On a side note, great series. Looking to further posts as you have time.

Specialist J.A.

Winter: Specialist Jaune Arc. It has a nice ring to it. Don't you agree?

Jaune: It has a bit of ring to it... But, it's not as special as you're making it sound.

Winter: You should be proud, Jaune: You're the youngest person to ever be accepted as a, Specialist, and the first person of none, Atlasian descent to become one. So, take pride in your accomplishments, Jaune.

Jaune: Okay, being the first none, Atlasian to join the, Specialist doesn't sound like that much of an achievement. But, am I really the youngest member?

Winter: Oh yes, I was twenty when I joined, most others, Specialist were around twenty one as well when they joined. You are nineteen years old; You are the youngest member to ever join the, Specialist!

Jaune: Wait really...? Wait, twenty? Does that mean you're around twenty three then?

Winter: Careful, Arc... You should know better than to ask a lady her age...

Jaune: I-I-I'm sorry! I've just been curious how old are!

Winter: And, why do wish to know that?

Jaune: I was just curious!

Winter: Curious...?

Jaune: Yeah. You have this ageless beauty about you, Winter. So, I've always been curious.

Winter: Ageless beauty...?

Winter: Ahem! So... So what do you think of your new uniform?

Winter changed the topic as she looked away from, Jaune hiding a faint blush threatening to spread across her face. Meanwhile, Jaune looked at his reflection taking in his new, Specialist uniform.

It wasn't what, Jaune had expected, but he loved it nonetheless. It was similar to the uniforms to the rest of the, Specialist work as in style.

Jaune's uniform was more of a long sleeve sweater than a dress shirt. A zipper ran up the middle of it to the high collar. A sleave that ran over zipper to connect to a series of buckle buttons on the side. The front was a vibrant white with red stripes running along the side. The rest was the vibrant deep blue that was commonly found on, Atlasian uniforms.

His blue denim jeans had been replace with black combat cargo pants, giving him extra pockets to store necessary supplies. His boots had also been chaged for more modern combat boots, rather than the surplus boots, Ruby tends to wear. He found the boots quite nice, there was space in the boots he could fit something like a knife in it, perhaps her should do something like that.

Jaune: I didn't expect the blue would fit me so well. I know the red, and white suit me. But, I was never sure of the blue.

Winter: The blue is quite fetching on you; it matches your eyes quite well.

Jaune: Really? T-Thanks...

Winter: Your welcome. So, how does your armour feel?

Jaune: Mmmm... It feels a little tight; I think I need to ask one of the armourers to readjust it for me.

Winter: I see... Well, you can ask the armourers to resize it for you, that shouldn't be a problem for them. In fact, they could forge you new armour if you want.

Jaune: New armour? I know my armour is pretty good as it is, but would I be able to get some of that, Paladin Armour plating if I asked?

Winter: Hmmm...?

Winter: That’s a possibility… You'll have to ask about it.

Jaune: Okay, I'll ask them to remake, Crocea Mors then... It's probably best if I ask for, General Ironwood’s permission first. I suspected considering the metal this is used for your, Paladins its restricted from personal use.

Winter: While I'm not sure about that myself. But, I'm sure he'll agree to it, at least he may eventually let you do that. Once you prove your worth to, Atlas.

Jaune: That's fair. He's already upgraded my gear as is. It feels a little greedy of me to ask for another upgrade.

Winter: So, everything alright with your new uniform, Jaune?

Jaune: My armour is a little snug, but everything else is just fine. But, what's with this sash?

Jaune pulled out a deep rich crimson sash with a white snowflake pattern on the edge of it. Jaune looked at the beautiful needle work before staring at, Winter. She looked away as a small blush crossed her face.

Jaune: Winter?

Winter: I uhh... I got you a gift...

Jaune: A gift?

Winter: Yes, a gift to celebrate you're joining the, Specialist core. I would have gotten you something else, but I wasn't sure what... what you would like...

Jaune ran his thumb across the sash marveling on the smooth fabric, and the intricate detail woven into the snowflake.

His mind wondered at the red sash, he wore, Pyrrha's stash as a memento of her, the gold of his armour was also from her. He worse it keep her close to him. But, maybe...?

Winter: Do you... Do you like it, Jaune?

Jaune's mind was running until he saw a flash of red, and gold in his eyes, his eyes moved up to see the ghost of, Pyrrha looking at him. A smile spread across her face as she nodded her head, and gestured to the sash. Jaune's eyes darted to the crimson sash in his hands before looking back at, Pyrrha, and realizing she was gone.

Jaune smiled as his hands reached down, and grab the sash before wrapping it around his waist. Jaune looked down at the sash, then at it in his reflection. He nodded his head before turning to look at, Winter with a smile on his face.

Jaune: Thank you, Winter, it's beautiful.

Jaune hand pulled on the sash to move it so it ran parrel with his hip, while he was fiddling with it, Winter stepped forward, and readjusted it so it would look better.

Winter: Oh thank goodness... I was worried you wouldn't like it. I rarely get presents for my siblings, I've never gotten one for someone else so I was really... worried...

Winter's rambling was cut short as she finished adjusting, Jaune's sash before standing back up staring directly into, Jaune's cerulean blue eyes, their faces mere centimeters apart.

Jaune: I uhhh...

Winter: Y-Yes...?

Red slowly creeped across their faces before the game of chicken was called to the end as the both turned away,. Brushing away their blushes in the process.

Winter: S-So... did... Did you tell your teammates about you're appointment to the, Specialist's?

Jaune: Uhh... no.

Winter: Do you plan to?

Jaune: They'll find out eventually. Just like when I learned that they forgot to invite me to, Ruby's birthday party the other day.

Winter: What? They did, when?

Jaune: They texted me my invitation when I was about to talk to, General Ironwood about me becoming a, Specialist.

Winter: The message you said was from, 'no one important.'

Jaune: Yep, that one.

Winter: You don't see them as anyone important in your lives now do you?

Jaune: Just returning the favour...

Winter: I see. Well then... Specialist Arc!

Jaune: Sir!

Winter: Are you ready for your first mission as a, Specailst?

Jaune: Yes, Sir!

Winter: Good! You will follow me to the cafeteria where we, Specialist will be holding your initiation!

Jaune: Yes, Sir. May I ask what this incitation process will be, Sir?

Winter: Yes, to survive, Marrows cooking!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Eh?

Winter: The incitation is just a simple welcome party with food, drink, and cake that we, Specialist have. We're expected to each bring in our own food, hand crafted, or store bought. Marrow insists on bringing his family's chili recipe.

Winter: It taste terrible...

Jaune: Chili? Well... now I'm worried about the surviving bit... Should I bring something?

Winter: If you want to, but you're the guest of honour you don't have to.

Jaune: Why don't I cook something edible then. Something we can all enjoy.

Winter: You can cook?

Jaune: Seven sisters, and not a chef among the lot of them.

Winter: Well then, I'm looking forward to whatever it is you plan to make.

Jaune: When is the party?

Winter: This evening around six.

Jaune: That give me... five hours. I can whip up something nice by then. I best get to it. But, I'm going to change first. Don't want flour on my new uniform now.

Winter: I'll see you later then.

Jaune: till later then.

Winter soon made her way to the exit as, Jaune started unbuckling his armour. As the door opened, Winter stopped to say one last thing to, Jaune.

Winter: Oh, and Jaune...?

Jaune: Yes?

Winter: You... You don't need to call me, Sir, or Specialist Schnee... Just call me, Winter, okay?

Jaune: Okay... Winter...

Winter: Thank you~!

Winter smiled a sweet smile as she left, leaving, Jaune behind dumbfounded as he nervously swallowed.

Jaune: Shit...

Jaune: She does like me...

[pitchsidestories]

aurora II Mapi León x Reader

masterlist | word count: 1190

summary: Mapi and reader getting engaged under the northern lights.

author's note: dear readers, this cute oneshot was requested and we hope you'll like it as much as we did writing the story. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

„Oh, Mapi, you know you didn’t need to.”, you began, your voice full of emotions.  

In your slightly shaky hands, you held the opened envelope in which there was an invitation to see the Northern lights. A childhood dream was laying in your palms.

It was coming true, and you were going to see that natural wonder with no other than the person you loved the most. A single tear ran down your cheek as an incredible feeling of gratitude spread through you.

The Spaniard pressed a featherlight kiss to the place where your cheek was still a bit wet.  “But I wanted to. I know you always wanted to do that, and you deserve it after the year you’ve had.”

For a brief moment, your face darkened; the last few months of the 2024/25 football season had been really tough for you. While Mapi and Irene were fit enough to play in the starting eleven again, you were demoted to the substitutes' bench again, after having grown in the role of defender and been indispensable to the team for many months.

Obviously, you were happy for the two, yet it hurt to be only considered the second choice once more.

“Thank you, amor.”, you whispered gratefully.

“You’re welcome.”, she replied.

“I simply can’t wait for that.”, you hummed excitedly. Something magical at the end of the year was just what you needed, a small winter miracle.

“Luckily, you don’t have to wait for long.”, Mapi reminded you softly.

‘But you're going to be so cold!’ you realised, and there was a hint of a guilty conscience in your voice.

“You can keep me warm.”, the defender responded with an amused smile on her lips.

“I promise I’ll.”, you grinned at your girlfriend.

“Also I already bought us matching sweaters.”,Mapi confessed sheepishly

“You did?”, you asked her touched by such a thoughtful and admittable, cheesy gesture.

“I did.”, she confirmed smirking.

“Maria Pilar, you’re the softest human with tattoos I’ve ever met, I swear.”, you said.

“My tattoos have nothing to do with that.”, the fellow football player laughed.

The weeks had flown by.

Still, it felt to you like a dream when Mapi and you were looking up to the night sky in the northern parts of Scandinavia. The northern lights above your heads.

“Yes.”, she agreed solemnly. With curious eyes the defender turned her head to look at you.  “Is it just like you imagined?”

“No, it’s even better.”, you admitted.

“It’s?”, Mapi questioned happily.

You quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek: “Yes, because you’re here with me.“

“You’re so sweet.“, your girlfriend smiled, her cheeks red from the cold.

“Also this feels so good right now. We’re only half way through the season but it’s already been an exhausting one for sure.“

“I know. And that’s why you’re not supposed to think about football here.“, Mapi reminded you gently.

You nodded gingerly. Of course she was right, this was not the time or place to think about football when you finally got to see this remarkable light display with your own eyes. “Sorry.“

Silently, you both watched on for a moment, taking everything in. You still couldn’t believe this was all real. It was almost verging on overwhelming.

“Y/n?”, Mapi said suddenly into the night.

“Hm?”, you replied without taking your eyes off the sky.

“I need to ask you something.“

Finally you turned towards her and what you saw, made the northern lights pale in comparison. There was no way to top this, yet Mapi found away.

The defender kneeled in front of you, holding a delicate golden ring in a little box.

“Oh my god!”, you whispered, incapable of stringing more words together.

“I haven’t asked yet.“, Mapi chuckled.

You shook your head in disbelief: “Well, you already got down on one knee in the freezing cold and pulled out a ring from your jacket so this is pretty self-explanatory!”

“So… Can I get an answer then?”

“Without asking? Hm…“, you teased her.

Mapi shot you a look: “You just said I didn’t have to.“

“It’s a yes, amor.“, you finally answered. You couldn’t contain the smile spreading across your face when you pulled Mapi up from the snowy ground and kissed her.

“You will be my wife?”, she asked as if she needed confirmation that you knew what you had just agreed to.

“Yes, and you’ll be mine.“

She beamed at you happily: “I will be. Even in the cold… Can we go inside now?”

“Of course, I can’t let my fiancée freeze any longer.“, you nodded with a laugh and led her inside your rented cabin.

“Thank you.“, your fiancée said, rubbing her hands together to warm them back up once she was inside.

“You’re welcome. Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?”, you suggested once you saw how badly Mapi was shivering.

“Yes, please.“

While she took off her boots and winter jacket, you disappeared into the small rustic kitchen only to return with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate a few minutes later. You had even added mini marshmallows. Carefully, you handed Mapi a mug and watched her take a sip.

“Better?”

“A lot.“

“Good.“, you sighed relieved.

“That’s all I ever wanted.”, the defender realized gratefully.  

“A hot chocolate under the northern lights?”, you asked her amused.

“With my future wife.”, she added proudly. Her words made you feel suddenly very hot, so you had to pull off the scarf.

Despite the rather chaotic proposal you heard yourself saying. “Feels like a dream.”

“It does, huh?”

“Yes, I don’t want to wake up from it yet.”, you confessed.

The fireplace crackled in the background.

“You don’t have to. That’s our life right now.”, Mapi reassured you, the Spaniard gently touched your chin and turned it towards her so that you could look into her hungry eyes.

They and her waiting lips were the invitation you needed, both of your mouths touching in perfect unison, the kiss was perfect, bittersweet, you could still taste the hot chocolate in it.

Then she leant her forehead against yours, her sentence sounded full of promise. “Love you, future wifey.”

“Te amo.”, you whispered gently in your fiancées mother tongue.

“I know.”, Mapi chuckled, her lips escaping a protesting sound once you got up to light some candles and turned out the big lights, so it was even cozier than before.

“Isn’t this perfect.”, the Spaniard admired.

“It’s plus we can see the northern lights from our beds.”, you pointed excitedly to the glass ceiling which gave a picturesque view of the night sky above your heads.

“Nice, right?”, she grinned, as you both laid down on the soft mattress.

“Yes, it’s an amazing place to make..”, you started blushing.

“Love?”, Mapi finished the sentence for you with a teasing look on her face.

“Yes.”, you bit your lips while your fiancée began to leave small kisses all over your body.

Aurora, the blush of dawn would be here soon, but you two had only eyes for each other as you made love under the most beautiful sky you’ve ever seen.

if you enjoyed this story reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated !

[llamagoddessofficial]

How would the Bad Sanses Harpys react if you were to preen their wings?

Poor harpy boys. They constantly look a little bit messy, because until you show up, they have no one around they trust enough to groom them.

Dust can't make eye contact while you preen him. It's been such a long time since anyone preened him, and honestly? He's flustered. You might not notice at first, since he'll just sit there in silence, not looking at you and only answering your questions with short hums. Knowing him it's only natural to assume he's feeling nothing out of the ordinary. But if you look closer at his 'impassive' face, when you run your hands over his blue-grey feathers, you'll realise there's a tinge of red on his cheekbones. You'll realise the reason he turns his head from you is because he doesn't want you to notice how embarrassingly emotional (literally just a hint of blush) he's getting. You'll realise he's replying in hums because he can't even concentrate on what you're saying. His feathers are lovely and soft, despite how long it's been since anyone groomed him. You aren't sure how much of the softness is the fine powder layer covering him, but whatever it is, it's very tempting to bury your face in it.

If there's anyone that really needs preening, it's Horror. His feathers are a mess. And he probably wants it the most out of all of them. Even though he desperately wants you to preen him, and he'll be so overjoyed if you offer, he will definitely flinch at the first touch - he's just not used to getting any kind of positive attention. But... the more you smooth his ragged uneven feathers, the more relaxed he gets. His eyelight gets big and wide, his socket half-closes, he fluffs up like a pigeon, he puts an arm around you - he'll definitely start to purr. As you pick fluff and pinfeathers out he gets more and more and more sleepy, more and more relaxed... ... Until he's a bit too relaxed and sleepy, and he just nods over, falling asleep and pulling you down with him. Congrats, you are now trapped. You are no match for his weight and sleepy clinginess. At least his huge wings are very very warm, and make great blankets.

Killer's wings are constantly in a state of disarray. Just like him. There's feathers sticking up at all different angles, clumps matted together, he sheds everywhere, he gets puffy when he's excited and patches of puff don't go back down properly... he's not quite as messy as Horror but he's definitely getting there. He never lets anyone touch him, he gets aggressive at the suggestion he needs to tidy himself, and he reacts to any attempt to clean him up by getting alarmingly violent. You are, of course, his exception to everything. He'll wait until you're sat down, then dramatically drape himself across your lap and lament about how long it's been since someone preened him. He'll constantly bring it up, and when you do finally 'cave' and run a brush over him, he grins like a cat and gets all cuddly. With how cute he acts when you're preening him it's hard to believe he ever made a fuss about it before.

Nightmare doesn't do preening. Sorry, dear. The black tar that coats his wings simply makes grooming logistically impossible. He doesn't ever look like he needs preening anyway, he's the only one of the guys who doesn't look messy - perhaps there's some deep magic in the darkness that coats him, because unless he's really angry, he never has a single feather out of place. Why would someone like him ever require that kind of thing? ... Just because he doesn't need it, though, doesn't mean he doesn't want it. He misses being able to receive that kind of affection. When the two of you are alone together, he would very much appreciate it if you just... pretended to preen him. Run your fingers through his feathers as best you can, smooth down bumps that aren't there, fix issues that haven't been there for years. You'll never see him more calm.

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 ! ❞

⋆.˚ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. he gets saved by strange photographer girl and gets persuaded to start his life all over, a new beginning he didn't deserve.

⋆.˚ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. y.seongji x reader .

⋆.˚ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. ~1.2k .

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. crack, a little. (kinda) plantonic. f!reader. self - made au ! [reader saves to the person who deserved it the most in lookism] . spoiler - warning . safe for minors! crappy writing. seongji may seem ooc .

　SNAP !

The male figure, lost in thoughts, got pulled out of his trance, averting his gaze to a woman who held a camera in her hands. Not a moment passed as you lowered your camera to meet his eyes, now staring at him with a smile. "Sorry. I was passing by and then I saw you, going deeper into the water." you explained yourself before taking a good look into the gallery.

"You should stop here or you'll get lost in the ocean." she said while inspecting the shot she took, "it's actually pretty good."

Did she just take a picture without asking? But on other hand, it doesn't matter. He'll drown himself anyway.

"Wow, are you a model?" she asked, finally looking up again.

Just to see him walking away, deeper into the sea. "H-Hey!—" her eyes widened, immediately making her was to him, yet the water was slowing her down. "What are you doing?!" she questioned and took a hold around his wrist, "you could die but I won't let you! Hey, you stranger!—" the woman let out a huff, letting her camera hang around her neck before wrapping her arms around his torso.

"Let go!" those were the first words he let out of his mouth, gripping onto your arms that were hugging him tightly.

"No, are you stupid?! If you go further, drag me with you!" you cried out, "or maybe I'm as stupid as you!"

Suddenly — he lost his balance because of your unexpected, added weight, stumbling down while also taking you with him. The moment you two were falling, he wrapped his arms around you as if it was to protect you. His back crashed down into the sea, the water cushioned the fall and let you two sink into it. You opened your eyes again, pushing yourself up.

"Erm... Sorry! And thanks!" you puffed and looked down, only to see him passed out in the water. "Huh?! Sorry! The camera between us must've hurt!"

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

The fresh smell of ramen woke him up. His eyes opened slowly. And the first thing he saw was the night sky. The moon that was, for once not covered by the clouds, shining calmly down on the beach. "Finally awake, huh? You suicidal maniac." the voice of someone familiar hit his ears as he eventually sat up, his hand was making contact with the sand underneath him.

"You." the person he meant didn't answer. "Why did you stop me?"

Well, yeah. You'd actually turn the question around. Who wouldn't stop someone from unaliving themselves? But you didn't answer, staring at him as if he grew a second head. "Here. Probably didn't eat, right? Your stomach was growling all the time while you were sleeping. And then I got hungry too so I ate before you woke up." you handed him the ramen you bought.

"Answer already." he demanded, not moving to accept the free food.

"If you don't take it, I'll eat it." you huffed and waited again. This time, he actually grabbed the noodles without averting his gaze from you. Wow, you thought he would be more stubborn. "It's getting cold."

"It's already cold."

"Hey, eat it now before I take it back for real now."

Persuaded by your words, his finger twitched, finally opening the already opened cup noodles as he looked down at them. There was no soup visible, already soaked up by the noodles. "Youch. Why dish youh save meh?" he asked once again, this time his words sounded pretty much incoherent. But you still understood most of it.

"Don't talk while eating. It just shows that you have bad manners." you sighed out before introducing yourself, "the name's [name] [lastname] by the way. If you're talking to me then use my name."

"[name]." he stopped eating the noodles for a moment just to hear your name out of his mouth.

"Yes?"

"...why did you save me?" he began to continue with the slurping.

"I mean, isn't it understandable? If someone tries to unalive themselves, you would stop them, wouldn't you?" you raised an eyebrow. "It's common sense."

"I'm a murderer."

Suddenly, the cold wind blew stronger this time, his hair flowed with the air, letting him still look beautiful. You wonder if he is a model. He could if he wanted. "Oh right. What did you say?" you asked him to repeat his words, not even listening. And when you processed what he said, you froze. "Ah, you're a murderer? Nice joke." his expression told you otherwise. "...well. A life is a life."

The guy infront of you frowned and you ask yourself why. What do you mean your answer didn't explain your actions? "I killed someone." the noodles are long forgotten, hiding behind all the thoughts he had. Because of you. What kind of reaction was that? He just told you he killed someone. So why did you shrug your shoulders as if it didn't really matter. "I took someone's life."

"And your face says you regretted it. You also tried to take your own life? You think it makes it better if you just disappear from the world? Isn't there someone who is worries about you?" you knitted your eyebrows in confusion, slight anger.

"It's better for them if I just disappeared. After all, I took the life of their friend. A sister." his eyes sank to the sand. "I'm an ugly monster."

"..." you couldn't help but chuckle at his last sentence. "Hey, if you're ugly what am I?"

"Stop laughing. I'm being serious."

"I am serious. If you're ugly, I must be super duper ugly." you huffed, "what's your name?"

"...Seongji." he answered after a while of silence. "Seongji Yuk."

"Again, if you call yourself ugly, I must be a goblin."

"I never said that."

"Yeah sure, you're thinking that."

"I was not."

"But now you're imagining me as a goblin, right?"

"No."

"Eat your noodles or I will."

"Youch are sho wheird."

"Bad manners. Oh by the way you owe me ramen AND a new camera."

"..."

Seongji stared at you. You stared at Seongji. Until he break the eye contact because of the noodles, but you know it was an excuse to avoid your staring. What did you say? He owes you ramen and a new camera? Where should he get the money from? Are you being serious right now? The next time he met your gaze again, he noticed your blank expression plastered on your face.

"Let's make a deal..." you paused,  "you'll be my muse and you don't need to pay me back."

"No."

"What?! You owe me a camera though? You know how expensive it was?" you pointed at your broken thing.

"It's not my fault. You latched yourself onto me. Besides that, I have no money and no home."

"Because I was saving your life!" you balled your hands into fists, ready to punch his handsome face before calming yourself down. "How about I give you a shelter, food and some clothes then? You can have the guest bed room."

"Why are you doing this all for me?"

"Dude, you have no home, no money and you tried to unalive yourself. Now I'm giving you the best offer that will ever happen." you bit your inner cheek, "are we having a deal or not?"

"...fine." he placed the cup down.

"Good. You're having a new start. You sure about this?" you looked at him.

"...yes."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"By the way what's a muse?"

"Did you live in the mountains?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

a/n's note — tempted to make more parts to be honest. SEONGJI MY LOVE, YOU DESERVED THE WORLD AND EVEN MORE.

[bambisspeckles]

Trapped ✿ Poly Pirate!141 x Reader -- Part Two

A continuation of Stowaway...

*pics for aesthetics only!

Summary: Your first day aboard the 141 CW: Inaccurate depiction of pirates, poly!141, fem!reader, ghost and price are kinda assholes (for right now), soap is well soap, gaz is an angel sent from heaven, reader is held captive (ish), stockholm syndrome core but like in the way beauty and the beast is, no romance w reader yet (sorry, but don't worry it won't really be a slowburn), implied ghoap (its such a small implication I'm sorry) self-edited! WC: 1.9k

Sleep escapes you through the night. The cellar is small and uncomfortable, at times the ship gets rocked so hard you get tossed around, and the wooden floorboards are hard and splintered. You lay there, curled up into a ball, tears threatening to spill from your waterline. It's cold and you're so hungry you can almost hear your stomach growling over the sound of waves crashing against the ships hull. You feel pathetic and weak, and you only have yourself to blame for the predicament you're in. At the very least you should have been offered some food or a spare blanket, a thought that in retrospect is foolish. These aren't gentlemen, they're pirates. They take and pillage until they can take and pillage no more.

You lay there for hours, staring into the darkness with only the sound of the ocean to keep you company. Your eyes are heavy but you can only sleep for a few minutes before you are, quite literally, jolted into consciousness. You go through this back and forth battle for hours until the door opens and morning light shines through the frame. Gaz steps through, his eyes widening in panic when he sees you on the floor.

"Jesus fuckin'- Are you alright? Are you sick? God n' you're shivering…" He rushes to your side, giving you a once over before attempting to place the back of his hand on your forehead. You flinch away from his touch and he awkwardly scrunches his before moving his hand away.

"I'm… I'm fine." You say, you lie. You know he doesn't believe you but you're not sure you care.

"M' sure you're famished, I can bring you somethin' to eat." At the thought of food your stomach growls and Gaz chuckles, shaking his head at you softly. "I'll bring you something love."

As he stands from the ground and turns back towards the entrance, you reach out to grip his wrist, pulling his attention towards you once more. He tilts his head at you curiously, brows slightly furrowed as he waits for you to speak.

"I… Can I leave here, please? It's not like I can run off anywhere and it's stuffy in here." Gaz bites his bottom lip, chewing on it thoughtfully for a moment.

"I'm not sure, Captain hasn't really been clear on what exactly he wants to do with you. Honestly I think it's best you stay here till we dock tomorrow. That way at least you'll be out Price's line of fire… And out of Soap's paws, and it's definitely in your best interest that we keep you away from Ghost." You wince at the mention of Ghost, you swear you can see his dark hooded eyes everytime your eyes close.

There's a part of you that wants to fight back against Gaz, but you know that he's honestly working in your best interest, which you're both suspicious of and grateful for. Instead you decide to back down, sucking your bottom lip in and nodding obediently.

"Okay… Okay, I'll stay."

Gaz smiles at you pitifully, something you wish he'd stop doing. His sympathetic smiles don't free you from this cellar, or from this ship you've foolishly trapped yourself on.

"I'll bring you something to eat," He pauses, noting the curled up position you're in. "And some blankets. We should have done that last night, sorry." He gives you one last sheepish look before turning on his heels, once again leaving you alone.

You're getting antsy.

Gaz has been gone for, well you're not sure exactly how long, but it feels like it's been quite awhile since he promised you food and blankets. You're getting light headed, and pairing that with the cold just isn't helping. Anxiously, you look back and forth between the cellar door and the splintered wooden floor, the idea of just going above deck and looking for Gaz yourself rolling around like a marble in your head. It's a bad idea, you know it is, but your stomach is so painfully empty that you feel ill, and you don't think there are anymore goosebumps to be raised on your skin. You mull over the options in your head.

One, stay in the cellar and hope Gaz hasn't forgotten about you. Or two, leave the cellar and possibly run into the Captain, or worse, Ghost.

Bumping into Johnny wouldn't be so bad. I mean sure, his stares linger too long and that toothy grin of his is less than inviting, but at least he won't throw you overboard when he sees you. At least you think he won't. After a few more minutes of waiting and suffering, you decide to head up to the deck and look for Gaz. You don't know how much longer you can wait for him to come back before you pass out. So, on very wobbly legs, you push yourself off the ground and make your way to the cellar door.

The sun blinds you as the door opens, the smell of the sea smacking you in the face. Truthfully, the bite of the chilly air is refreshing after be locked in that stuffy cellar, despite how cold you are. You climb the steps all the way to the main deck, quickly taking in your surroundings. No one seems to be out on the deck which is both good and bad news for you. As much as you'd like to find Gaz, you're not too sure how the Captain would feel about you aimlessly wandering about the ship, especially when you're sure he doesn't want you on it to begin with. Your stomach growls and you slowly walk towards the ships railing, gently draping your upper half over it, the mist from the waves hitting your face. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of the ocean. You take a moment to breathe, to process. Your stomach growls in protest at your lack of movement, but you can't bring yourself to care much when this is the first time in hours you've been able to breath the fresh sea air. You're fighting the urge to drift off when suddenly you're yanked backwards by the waist.

You let out a squeal, you're body flailing as you attempt to loosen the grasp of whichever crew member grabbed you.

"Stop bloody movin'." The voice practically barks out.

"Oh." You think wryly, your body going still.

Once again Ghost had been the one to catch you. How cruel, he was the last person you were wanting to run into.

Ghost flips you to face towards him, his body somewhat pining you against the railing. It vaguely crosses your mind that if he wanted to throw you off the ship, now is this most opportune time for him to do so.

"Wha' are ya doin' out your cage." You furrow your brows at the word 'cage'. Sure, there may be a part of you that does agree it feels like a cage, but it's not. Pets go in cages and you're no pet.

"It's not a cage…" You mumble, lip pouted and brows still furrowed. "And I didn't- I was going to stay in the cellar but Gaz never came back."

Ghost cocks his head slightly, the movement voicing his obvious confusion.

"Gaz never came back for wha'?" The way he asks sends shivers down your spine and you have no idea how he can make such a simple question sound so dark and sinister. You swallow thickly, eyes darting away from his.

"He was going to bring me food and some blankets." Your voice is quiet, timid as you speak to him.

Ghost only grunts in response before grabbing your wrist, rather tightly you may add, and dragging you god knows where. He drags you down a short hallway before stopping in front of a door. Behind it, you think you hear voices, and your suspicions are confirmed when Ghost swings the door open and you're greeted by the faces of the three other men.

"Aye, well would ye look at tha'!" Soap is the first to speak, a nasty grin plastered on his face. "Was just wonderin' what ye were up to kitten." You grimace at the pet name, something you know he finds amusing when he chuckles under his breath.

Before you have a chance to speak, Ghost pushes you further into the room before shutting the door behind him. Price gives Ghost an expectant look, before his eyes dart towards you. He takes that as his queue to speak, his grip still tight on your wrist.

"Found er' sniffin' round' on the deck." Ghost states simply, his voice rough and gravelly.

"I was not "sniffing' around anywhere! I told you, I was simply-" Before you have a chance to finish speaking, the Captain interrupts you.

"Stowaways don't speak out of turn." Price's words are laced with something dark and dominating, the aura of them shutting you up with a quiet whimper.

His eyes scan your face, jaw ticking thoughtfully before he sighs, leaning forward on his desk and putting his weight on his elbows.

"Why were you on the deck?" In the short time you've been here, and with the very limited interactions you have had with Captain Price, you have some understanding that when he asks a question, he wants an answer, and he wants it quickly.

"I- I was looking for Gaz." You mumble curtly, your eyes darting around the room to avoid eye contact with Price.

All eyes turn to Gaz, his head cocked to the side in confusion.

"Me? Did you need somethin' love?" You chew on your bottom lip, nodding softly at him.

"I'm hungry, and rather cold… You said you'd be back but you never came." Gaz looks even more confused than before, his brows dipping further down his face.

"Soap didn't bring you some food and blankets?" He asked.

You shake your head at him again.

"Um, no? Was he supposed to?" Gaz rolls his eyes, turning his head towards Soap who's rubbing his neck sheepishly.

"I told you to bring her the stuff I gave you," His voice raised slightly. "You've left the poor girl starving and cold."

Soap chuckles awkwardly, his eyes darting towards Ghost.

"I ken! I ken… Jus' got a bit distracted." Gaz groans at the implication. "Dinnae hate me too much for it." Soap then turns towards you, crowding you against a wall.

"M' sorry kitten, didnae mean tae forget about ye… Can ye forgive me?" And something about the way he asks makes you fidget.

You squirm against him in an attempt to break free from his grasp, but all he does is smirk and press harder. After a moment of your struggle, the Captain clears his throat.

"Alrigh' nough' of that Soap." The scotsman chuckles softly before finally moving away from you. Price stands from his desk, prompting the whole room to look at him, including you. "Dinner is soon. S' Ghost's night for cookin' so you, stowaway, you'll join us for supper."

His eyes scan the room quickly before nodding towards the door.

"Everyone out of my room."

As fast as he gave the order, everyone was out, standing outside his room like lost cattle. You feel a hand on the small of your back, and when you look behind you, you see Gaz.

"Dinner will be ready soon, just hold out a bit longer. I'll grab ya some blankets to keep ya cozy while waiting." He smiles softly at you and to your surprise, you smile back, an involuntary movement that has him giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

He leads you back to the cellar and once you're alone again you have only one thought.

"I hope Ghost doesn't poison my food."

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU (SERIES 2)

FIRST PART (SERIES 1) >> PREVIOUS PART >> NEXT PART

Gwaine: (turns to Merlin and smirks) Do I know you, sweetheart? 😏

Merlin: (thinking) Shit! I'm not supposed to know him yet! (says) Uh...

Kendrick: You should get out of here while you have the chance.

Gwaine: You're probably right. (pretends he turns to leave, but suddenly hits a bandit in the head with a rock he picked up before and quickly takes his sword)

More bandits appear from behind the trees and the fight breaks out. Lancelot fights two bandits and Gwaine fight two more. Merlin disarms some with his magic and Morgana picks one of the fallen swords and fights one bandit. Another bandit, however, grabs her by the waist from behind.

Bandit x: I have her-Argh!(suddenly goes limp and falls)

Gwen: (who just stabbed him with her dague from behind) Oh, no you don't!

Bandit y: (grabs her wrist and twists her arm to make her drop the dague, making her cry in pain) You bitch!

Morgana: Gwen!

Lancelot: (turns) Gwen! (wants to go to her but the two bandits he's fighting won't let him)

Morgana: (about to slay bandit y with her sword)

Bandit y: (puts Gwen infront of him) Think twice, my lady.

Merlin: (whispers) Ga on wuda! (his eyes glow and the horses shy and run off)

Bandit y: (lets go of Gwen to sidestep one of the horses)

Lancelot: (who just finished to slay the bandits he was fighting, runs to Gwen and holds her by the waist with one arm lifting her a bit and slays bandit y with the sword in his other arm) Gwen! (To Morgana) My lady! Stay close to me! (puts Gwen down and keeps fighting the bandits that aproaches)

Gwaine: (looking what Lancelot did, thinking) Interesting movement. (turns and spots Merlin)

Merlin: (making bandits trip with his magic, about to do the same with a bandit that is aproaching him)

Gwaine: My lady! (runs to Merlin and holds him by the waist with one arm and fights with his free arm like Lancelot did, though he can't lift Merlin for long cause he's heavy for a lady)

Merlin: (trying to free from his hold, shouts) What are you doing?! 😡(thinking) You are distracting me!

Gwaine: (while fighting a bandit with difficulty) I'm protecting you!

Merlin: You can do it without holding me! 😡 Let go-(notices Gwaine's hand is almost over his breast and shriks loudly in panic cause he put some socks there so his chest weren't so flat and doesn't want to be discovered)

Gwaine: (thinking he offended "Merelyn", lets go of her inmediatly) Oh, I'm so sorry, my- (fights the bandit) My lady! (slays the bandit and starts fighting another)

Merlin: (steps away from Gwaine and looks around, thinking) Almost all the bandits are dead, Gwaine and Lancelot are fighting the last two ones. I think they can manage, but I'll keep watching just in case...wait, where's the leader?

Kendrick: (grabs Merlin from behind unexpectedly and puts a sword at his throat) Stop right there!

Lancelot: (just finished to slay the bandit he was fighting) Merlin! (about to go to him)

Gwaine: (just finished to slay the bandit he was fighting too) My lady! (about to go to him too)

Kendrick: (holds the sword closer to Merlin's throat) Stop I said!

Lancelot and Gwaine: (freeze)

Merlin: (sighs, thinking) Perfect.

Kendrick: Put down your weapons. Now! if you value your lady's life!

Lancelot: (warnly) If you value YOUR life, you'll let Lady Merelyn go this instant. That's the Prince's lo-ward you're holding.

Kendrick: The weapons!

Lancelot and Gwaine: (about to put down their weapons)

Merlin: (shouts) Don't! He just lost all his men, he knows he's doomed.

Kendrick: Silence!

Merlin: Or what? You are going to kill me? You need me to escape, you asshole.

Kendrick: Oh, so the Prince's ward is not scared.

Merlin: You mean I'm not shitting my pants like you? No, i'm not.

Kendrick: Confident in your Prince's protection I see. Well, let's see if he still wants you as his ward once he learns you are tainted! (lifts his hand and touches Merelyn's breast)

Merlin: (pales)

Morgana and Gwen: (gasp and bring their hands to their mouths, scandalised)

Lancelot and Gwaine: 😨😨!!😡😡

Kendrick: (frowns, confused at the texture) Wait, this is not-Argh! (shouts in pain due to an arrow that was shot at his shoulder and lets go of Merlin)

Merlin: (pushes him in anger and Kendrick falls to the ground) You animal! 😠(brings his hands to his breast checking they are still in place)

Percival: (comes out from behind a tree with a crossbow)

Merlin: (whispers to himself) Percival?! 😧

Gwaine: (kicks Kendrick who is still in pain on the ground and shouts at Percival) You're late.

Percival: (shouts back as he aproaches) It's not easy to aid a whole lot of injured knights.

Merlin: (thinking) They already know each other? How is that possible?

Lancelot: (goes to kick Kendrick too)

Kendrick: (screams in more pain)

Merlin: (surprised) Lancelot! Since when are you so violent?

Lancelot: He humilliated you! 😠 (kicks Kendrick again)

Merlin: (confused) What?

Gwen: (whispers at Merlin) Touching a lady like that in public is a grave act. He basically took your honor.

Morgana: (whispers) And, since you are Arthur's "ward" he also humilliated the Prince of Camelot through you.

Merlin: (whispers back) But I'm not really a lady!

Morgana: Well, the bandit leader didn't know that.

Gwen: (giggles) And apparently for Lancelot the intention is enough.

Lancelot, Gwaine and Percival: (keep kicking Kendrick)

Morgana: (goes to them) Alright, that's enough. You are better men than him and we still need to bring him to justice.

Kendrick: (all injured, manages to point Merlin) You... that THING is NOT a lady... You are-

Morgana: (kicks him in the head to stop him from revealing Merlin's identity and Kendrick falls unconcious) How dare you insult my friend, you monster! (composes herself) Lancelot, tie him and gag him. I don't think we need to hear more of his vulgarity.

Lancelot: Yes, my lady.

It's not difficult to find ropes, as expected, the bandits brought some with them. Percival carries an unconcious Kendrick as they walk back to the place of the ambush. Just a few knights survived and they are severily injured. Merlin wants to attend them, but he's not supposed to know how to. He's not a physician apprentice here and healing spells are still hard for him. Percival, Gwaine and Lancelot manage to find a couple of horses and a cart to transport the injured men. Morgana and Gwen ride the horses and Percival, Gwaine, Lancelot and Merlin go by foot in their way back to Camelot.

Merlin: (thinking, while looking at Gwaine and Percival longingly) I missed them so much! I thought I'd have to wait more before I got to see them again. I wonder how their lifes are here. How they lifes would've been if the sidhes hadn't trick me. Did they survive Camlann? Would they have mourned me if I had died or would they have been relieved it was me instead of Arthur? Would they have missed me as much as I miss them?

Gwaine: (notices Merlin's eyes on him) Looking something you like? 😏

Merlin: (looks away quickly, embarrased, and, since his feet are hurting, he takes off his shoes. Surprisingly, the feeling of the grass, rocks and soil under his feet brings him relief rather than pain)

Gwaine: I'm sure we can still find a horse for you, my lady. (smirks) Or I can lift you in my arms.

Merlin: My legs work more than fine, thank you.

Gwaine: Oh, I bet they do.

Lancelot: (thinking) He's playing with fire.

Gwaine: So... when is that we met, my lady? I don't recall meeting such a beatiful woman.

Lancelot: (thinking) Dead, he's dead.

Merlin: Then what makes you think we met?

Gwaine: You said my name.

Merlin: When?

Gwaine: When I came to your rescue. You shouted my name.

Merlin: Really? I don't recall that (turns to Lancelot) Did I do that, Lancelot?

Lancelot: No, my lady.

Gwaine: She did! (to Morgana and Gwen) You heard her, right? She called out "Gwaine" very loudly.

Morgana: Uhm... I don't remember that. (turns to Gwen) Do you, Gwen?

Gwen: Not really.

Gwaine: (turns to Percival)

Percival: Don't look at me, I wasn't there.

Gwaine: (totally gaslighted) I was sure she did. (shakes his head) Well, let me present myself then. My name is Gwaine. (holds her hand) At your service (about to kiss his hand)

Merlin: (pulls his hand away) You seem to have some manners (looks him up and down) for a lowly peasant.

Morgana and Gwen: (hold back a laugh very poorly)

Merlin: Why did you help us, Gwaine? (stresses the name)

Gwaine: Well, your chances looked between slim and none. I guess I just kind of like the look of those odds.

Percival: Yeah, it had nothing to do with 3 pretty ladies being involved.

Gwaine: (glares at Percival)

Merlin: (giggles) Thank you, whatever your reasons were. I'm sure the King himself will want to thank you in person.

Gwaine: Please, no! I met a few kings. Once you've met one you met them all.

Merlin: Not even to get a reward?

Gwaine: I'm not looking for that.

Merlin: Oh, so you are scorting us out of the goodness of your desinterested heart?

Gwaine: Rather my heart is very interested in you.😏

Merlin: (mouthopen)

Morgana and Gwen: (Just as mouthopen, look at each other and look back at them)

Lancelot: (genuinely fearing for Gwaine's life) You can't talk to Lady Merelyn like that.

Gwaine: What are you? His husband?

Lancelot: No, but she's the Prince's ward.

Gwaine: She has a guardian. So? It's not like she's engaged. (turns to Merlin) Or are you, my lady?

Merlin: (thoughtful, because, while he is with Arthur, since they are both men they can't really be "engaged") Well... technically I'm not. 🤔

Lancelot: (whispers) Merlin!

Gwaine: See? Let her decide who she receives attentions from. She's not a little girl. In fact (looks at Merlin) She is quite a woman. 😏

Lancelot: (shouts) She is the Prince's misstress!

Morgana and Gwen: (scold) Lancelot! 😠😠

Merlin: (crosses his arms) Technically is true, but it sounds offensive when you say it like that, Lancelot.

Lancelot: (embarrased) I'm sorry. I didn't want to say it, but he forced me to say it.

Gwaine: (burst out laughing)

Everyone else: (stare at him)

Lancelot: What's so funny?

Gwaine: Nothing, it's just that I heard all these tales about The Prince of Camelot being this young man full of talents, fair and honorable. Too good to be true and now I know why. It's obvious that all that reputation was created to hide how corrupt and debauchee he really is. At the end, royalty is royalty.

Merlin: (slaps Gwaine hard in the face)

Morgana and Gwen: 😨😨

Lancelot and Percival: 😨😨

Kendrick on Percival's shoulder: 😴

Gwaine: (brings a hand to his face just as shocked) What was that for?!

Merlin: (furious) How dare you insult Arthur like that! He is a very honorable man! More than all his cavalry conbined!

Gwaine: (now angry too) What kind of honorable man has a misstress? If he really was that honorable he would take you as his wife rather than put you in this position!

Merlin: You don't know him. Nor our story or our circunstances. You have no right to judge him or question our relationship!

Gwaine: (in disbelief) Relationship?! (pauses as he realises Merlin is serious) Don't tell me... For all the gods above, you actually believe it! I thought you were with him just for the benefits, but you did buy all his words. You actually think he loves you. (Lets out a dry laugh) I believed you more intelligent, my lady.

Merlin: He does love me. Not only that, Arthur repects me and gives me my place.

Gwaine: Oh, please! What place? Is there a place at court for the prince's "official mistress"? Open your eyes! Princes only play with women. Some are smart enough to take advantage of the situation and others (points at Merlin) are SO stupid that they don't see reality and believe that their relationship is about love. But you know what the reality is? That your beloved prince would never give you something serious, much less any kind of commitment!

Merlin: Oh, and you would?

Gwaine: I would treat you with more honor than he does.

Merlin: Really? (looking him right in the eye, defiant) You would give me commitment?

Gwaine: Yes!

Merlin: (extends a hand) Where's my ring?

Morgana and Gwen: 😱😱

Lancelot and Percival: 😱😱

Kendrick: 😴

Gwaine: (scared-of-marriage-Gwaine pales and frezzes)

Merlin: (pulls away his hand) It's easy to talk when you are not the one being criticized, isn't it? Don't compare my Prince with other royals. Arthur is unlike anyone you've ever known before. He is a man of his word and I trust him. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you tarnish his name or discredit him. And maybe you should look at a mirror first before you criticize. At least my Arthur is not a hypocrite and does not judge people without first knowing them. (gets closer to Gwaine, threateningly) If you dare to badmouth him again, I'll end you.(walks away from Gwaine and walks beside Lancelot)

Gwen: (whispering to herself, amazed) Wow... he never once broke character.

Morgana: (looks at Merlin, emotional) Acting like a queen already. I'm so proud!

Percival: (to Gwaine, chuckling) Damn, she destroyed you.

Gwaine: (feeling very insulted) How dare she...I'm better than that prince. I am!

Percival: So you will give her a ring?

Gwaine: ...

Kendrick: (open his eyes and start struggling and screaming behind his gag)

Gwaine: (knocks him out again with a rock, still angry)

Time skip. They arrive at the castle at dusk, just when Arthur was about to go with a search party to look for them. They encounter Arthur and his knights at the castle's entrance. Arthur is so relieved to see Merlin, Morgana and Gwen safe, he almost doesn't notice Gwaine and Percival's presence and when he does, he manages to hide his surprise at seeing them there. The injured knights are promptly send to Gaius.

Arthur: (worried still because they are in quite a state) What happened?

Morgana: (gets of her horse) We were ambushed by bandits.

Lancelot: We believe they wanted to capture Lady Morgana for ransom, Sire.

Gwen: (gets off her horse) They almost did. But these men (points Gwaine and Percival) and Lancelot saved us, Sire.

Percival: (drops Kendrick to the floor) Here's the leader.

Kendrick: 😵‍💫

Percival: The rest are dead.

Merlin: (who's been keeping his head down so the knights don't recognise him, runs to Arthur and hugs him)

Knights: ...

Leon: (dissapointed look)

Arthur: (hugs Merlin back, smiling) You missed me so much?

Merlin: (whispers) Hide me.

Arthur: (confused) What?

Merlin: (whispers more urgently) Hide me! Get me out of here, get me out of here!

Arthur: (understands Merlin doesn't want to be discover) Alright. (picks Merlin up bridal style, hiding Merlin's face in the crook of his neck)

Merlin: (thinking) What is this dollophead doing?! 😳😱

Arthur: (to the knights) Lady Merelyn is quite indisposed, I'll take her to rest. Arrest the bandit and take these men and Lady Morgana to the King immediately. He'll want to learn what happened. I'll accompany you in a moment.

Knights: Yes, Sire.

Arthur: (leaves carring Merlin)

Gwaine: (Who hasn't stopped looking Arthur and Merlin since they arrived, thinking) So this is the "honorable" prince, uh?

Percival: (to the knights, before they scort them to the king) Actually, we were already leaving-

Gwaine: Nonsense! We can make time for the king.

Percival: (confused) I thought you didn't want to meet the king

Gwaine: I changed my mind. It wouldn't hurt us to have some money with us.

Percival: Yeah, I'm sure money is what is motivating you. 😒

Meanwhile. In the Prince's chambers.

Arthur: (enters with Merlin in his arms)

Merlin: (gets off his arms abruptly) Couldn't you have been more discret?

Arthur: I'm the prince. There's no way I could get you out of there discretly.

Merlin: But you didn't have to make a show either! (sighs and takes off his wig) Ow! How many clips did Gwen use? (lifts the wig) Look! Is all battered! (puts it aside)

Arthur: Merlin-

Merlin: And I'm sweaty and stinky. How do women manage to not sweat and stink when they wear capes and capes of clothes everyday?!

Arthur: Merlin-

Merlin: And my make up! (touches his face and looks at his fingers) It's all smeared now! I must look horrible-

Arthur: (raises his voice) Merlin!

Merlin: (turns to him) What?!

Arthur: (comes close to him and holds him by the waist, smiling) I missed you.

Merlin: (softens his expression and smiles back, wraping his arms around his neck) I missed you too.

Arthur and Merlin: (kiss)

Arthur: (deepens the kiss and pulls Merlin closer)

Merlin: (pulls away a bit) You are not like this just because I'm dressed as a woman, right?

Arthur: No.

Merlin: 😒

Arthur: Okay, maybe a bit. You do look hot in that dress. But it's mostly because I missed you.

Merlin: I was out for less than a day.

Arthur: Enough time!

Merlin: (rolls his eyes, but he's actually very touched, cause he doesn't recall Arthur missing him like this in his other life and it feels nice) You are such a drama Prince. (kisses him)

Arthur: (kisses back)

Merlin: (pulls away) Wait, aren't you supposed to be joining Morgana in the audience with the king?

Arthur: They can start without me. (about to kiss him again)

Merlin: (stops him) Arthur, the King's ward was almost kidnapped. This is important. Go.

Arthur: But-

Merlin: Now.

Arthur: (sighs) Fine. (lets go of Merlin) But you go nowhere.

Merlin: (in very soft and light tone, playfully) Where else could I be?

Arthur: (stares at him, thinking) No wonder he could play the Dolma so well.

Merlin: Arthur!

Arthur: Alright, alright, I'm leaving! (turns to leave, but suddenly turns back to give Merlin a quick peck on the lips and runs outside)

Merlin: Clotpole (but he's blushing and smiling as he says it)

Time skip, in the throne room. Uther sitting on the throne with Arthur sit at his side and Morgana sit at the other, Gwen standing beside her. The rest, Lancelot, Gwaine and Percival stand before the king.

Uther: I can thank you enough for saving my ward. (holds Morgana's hand) She's like a daughter to me.

Gwaine: (thinking) Thank gods, I was starting to think he also had his ward as his misstress.

Uther: (looks at Lancelot) I do recognise you. You work at the stables. (thinking) and you are the man my son arrested out of jealousy. (says) What were you doing there... and dress as a knight.

Gwaine and Percival: (look at Lancelot and then at each other very surprised, thinking the same) He is not a knight?!

Lancelot: (nervous) Uh.. well...

Morgana: I allowed him to come, my lord, since my maidservant is his intended and he knows how to calm the horses. After he fought the bandits his clothes were in very bad state so I ordered him to wear one of the fallen knights armor, just in case we were ambushed again.

Uther: (looks around) Couldn't one of the actual survival knights come?

Arthur: They are still in a pretty bad state, Sire. Gaius is not even sure they are going to make it.

Uther: I need a report of what exactly happened.

Lancelot: I could tell you what-

Uther: Did I tell you you could speak? Silence!

Lancelot: (cowers in place)

Morgana: My lord, since the other knights are not available, I think it would be wise to here what Lancelot has to say.

Uther: (sighs) Alright. (to Lancelot) Speak. And don't omit any details. I want to know everything.

Lancelot: Of course, Sire.

Gwaine: (thinking) Typical, even when we saved his ward, we are not trustworthy unless you are nobelty.

So Lancelot tells everything. How he manage to get Lady Morgana, Gwen and Lady Merelyn out when they were first ambushed. How, despite that, they were sorrounded by Kendrick and his men later and how Gwaine appear to help and then Percival. As he was ordered, Lancelot doesn't omit any detail, nor Kendrick lascive words directed at the girls and nor how he humilliated Lady Merelyn before Percival shot an arrow at him.

Uther: Where is this Lady Merelyn?

Morgana: After such humilliation, I think you can understand why she didn't want to be present, my lord.

Uther: I see... Poor girl. I'll give her a compensation.

Arthur: (livid, stands up abruptly and leaves)

Gwain: (looking Arthur's reaction, thinking) Uuuuh. He didn't know.

Uther: (doesn't even acknowledge Arthur's behaviour because by this point he's used to his son sudden moods) You saved my ward's life so a debt must be repaid.

Lancelot: Oh, there's no need-

Gwaine: (nudges him, whispering) Shut up!

Uther: This merits something quite especial, so I'll let you choose how you want to be rewarded. As long as it is within reason, I'll grant it.

Percival: Well, your majesty, that's a very generous offer, but the only think we want is-

Gwaine: To think about it careful before giving you an answer, Sire.

Percival: (looks at Gwaine strangely, but supports him anyway) If it's not too much to ask, of course, Sire.

Uther: (to Lancelot) Is that your wish too, stable boy?

Lancelot: (thinks for a second before answering) Yes, Sire.

Uther: Alright, I'll give you 3 days. (to Lancelot) Give these men a place to stay meanwhile.

Lancelot: Yes, Sire. (bows and leaves)

Gwaine and Percival: (follow him a few steps behind)

Percival: (whispering to Gwaine) What are you planning to do?

Gwaine: (innocent look) I'm not planning to do anything.

Percival: You didn't ask for gold.

Gwaine: My dear friend, there are things in life that are more valuable than gold.

Meanwhile. At the Prince's chambers.

Merlin: (fighting with the laces of the dress) Come on, come on!

Arthur: (enters)

Merlin: Oh, thank the gods you're here! Arthur, can you-

Arthur: Why didn't you tell me?! 😡

Merlin: (confused) Tell you what?

Arthur: What that bandit did to you!

Merlin: (still not knowing what he's referring to) We were ambushed. We told you that.

Arthur: I'm talking about what he did to YOU specifically. When he... touched you!

Merlin: (finally gets it) Oooh, that! (laughs) It's kinda funny now that I remember it.

Arthur: Funny?! HE HUMILIATED YOU! 😡

Merlin: He would have if I was a lady, which i'm not.

Arthur: But that was his intention! To tarnish your honor!

Merlin: Seriously, what's with you knights and your obsession with honor?

Arthur: (not listening) As if threaten your life and trying to kidnap you wasn't enough he had the audacity-

Merlin: I mean, I could've easily escaped with magic later-

Arthur: I'll make him pay for this! Nobody can touch you like that and go unpunished-

Merlin: He didn't really touch me, I have no-

Arthur: I'll make him be whipped in public. No, that's not enough. I'll make him-

Merlin: (exasperated, takes Arthur's hands and puts them on his "breast", shouting) ARTHUR, THEY ARE NOT REAL!

Arthur: ...

Merlin: ...

Arthur: (coughs) Uhm... you're right. (touching) What is this?

Merlin: (pulls out a couple of socks from his breast)

Arthur: You had those all day? (pauses) Wait, why are you still in a dress?

Merlin: (whining) 😟 I can't take it off! 😫

Arthur: Use your magic.

Merlin: I already tried. Look (his eyes glow, making his dress shine for a moment, but nothing else happens) It still doesn't want to come off.🥺😭

Arthur: (a bit worried) How is that possible? You've done more complicated things with your magic.

Merlin: I don't know! Though I have a couple of theories.

Arthur: Which are?

Merlin: Well, maybe for my magic to be able to fulfil a task, it needs to have the knowledge of how to do said task and since I don't actually know how do women put on and off their complicated garments everyday, my magic doesn't know how to do it either.

Arthur: It could be... and the other?

Merlin: Uh?

Arthur: The other theory. You said you had a couple of theories. What's the other?

Merlin: (blushes) Uhm... well... maybe... (blushes more)

Arthur: What?

Merlin: Maybe it's because... my magic... got... attached to the dress?

Arthur: (pauses and then smirks) You love being dress as a woman, Merlin?

Merlin: (doesn't want to admit it) It's not... totally unpleasant. (sighs, exhausted) But I really need to take this off. Please, help me. 🥺

Arthur: (laughs softly and puts himself behind Merlin to untie the laces) Lets see. It can't be that difficult.

3 doritos later.

Arthur: (struggling with the laces) What the hell is wrong with these?! 😠

Merlin: Ow! You are tightening it more! 😫

Arthur: I got this, relax.

Merlin: You've been saying that for the last 10 minutes! 😠

Arthur: You know what? Fuck it (takes a blade and cuts all the laces in one movement)

Merlin: Finally! (takes the dress off in relief without thinking, revealing he's wearing a corset and a chemise under it)

Arthur: (Arthur exe has stopped working again)

Merlin: (blushing furiously, thinking) Stupid, stupid, stupid, you should have waited till you were alone in your room!

Arthur: (still quite in shock) You are... wearing... female undergarments.

Merlin: (avoiding his eyes at all cost) Yeah... Morgana insisted. (thinking) Please earth swallow me and spit me elsewhere!

Arthur: (thinking) Morgana, you are the best, I love you!

Merlin: I'll... take the rest off myself in my room. (about to leave, very embarrased)

Arthur: (stops him by the wrist)

Merlin: (confused) Arthur? (turns and finally looks at him)

Arthur: (eyes dilated and a low voice, pulls Merlin closer) You know that thing barely covers you?

Merlin: Wh-what? (realises)... Oh! 😳

Merlin was more focus on the "female" rather than the "undergarments" part, that he didn't realise he was almost naked! And in front of Arthur!

From the both of them, Arthur is always the one who shows more skin, with the laces of his shirt lose and rolled up sleeves, and sometimes even shirtless. And, while dressing Arthur still makes his cheeks rose and his heart race, he's quite used to it already. Merlin, however, is dress to the neck most of the time, barely showing skin. Merlin doesn't recall a single time Arthur has seen him without a shirt in his other life. And in this life Arthur has only seen him without a shirt once and that was only because he was injured.

And now Arthur is watching him wearing a garment that has no sleeves and barely reached his knees. A garment that is white, somewhat traslucid and tight against his body because it isn't his size.

Though Merlin doesn't doubt Arthur's feelings for him (not anymore at least) he wasn't completely sure Arthur wanted him. Everytime they snog, Arthur always touches over his clothes, kisses his neck, his jaw, besides the lips. But other than that, he never goes farther. Merlin gets that, with his prince education and all, Arthur is probably just being respectful of him. Which Merlin appreciates, truly, but sometimes it also makes him a bit insecure. It got him thinking "maybe he doesn't want me as much as I want him" or "Maybe he still has a conflict about being intimate with a man that way". Then Merlin would facepalm himself and think "Or maybe he just isn't ready for that step yet".

But now Merlin can see it. The arouse, the desire in the way Arthur holds his wrist, in the way the blue of his eyes are almost gone and his pupils so wide, in the way his Adam's apple jiggles and his breathing unevens. Arthur wants him. His dear Prince was just holding back all this time.

He isn't going to let him hold back anymore.

They look at each other for what seems an eternity. Tension heavy in the air.

Arthur: (Coughs and lets go of Merlin, trying to compose himself) Sorry... go change. I... I'll wait for you. (steps away)

Merlin: (holds his hand before he can go far)

Arthur: ... Merlin?

Merlin: (seductively) I still need help with this. (puts Arthur's hand on the corset)

Arthur: (swallows hard) I... I need.. the knife.

Merlin: (smiling) Eager to rip all my clothes?

Arthur: Yes...I mean, no!

Merlin: (laughs softly) I guess I can help a bit. (his eyes glow and the laces untie and get lose) There. Take it off.

Arthur: (does it slowly, like in a trance or a very sacred ritual, and, when he finishes, his hands stay on Merlin's waist, eyes tracing all Merlin's figure)

Merlin: (shivering, nervous but also excited, because this is finally happening! and he's so scared but so sure at the same time) Just... one more garment to go.

Arthur: (locks eyes with him. Eyes full of desire, but also a bit of concern) Are you sure? Because if you are not ready-

Merlin: I am! I want this. If you want it too.

Arthur: (holds Merlin closer) I wanted this for a long time.

Merlin: (whispers in his ear) Then what are you waiting for?

Arthur: (kisses him, hungrily)

That night both time travelers had their first time.

...

I may or may not write the smut of their first time together for the next part, depending if I'm actually able to write it 😅 (smut is not my strong point). Also while technically "Lancelot and Guinevere" ends here (they defeated the bandits and all) there'll be more parts till we get to the events of the next chapter. Said parts involve Arthur's jealous reaction to certain things certain person Gwaine did or will do? And more DRAMA!

Gwaine and Percival ☑︎

Gwaine brazenly flirting with Merlin ☑︎

Merlin in a pretty dress ☑︎

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @starrieisdelusional , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @curiously-lazy , @harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd , @bogslob , @braziiis , @rubinaitoart , @thebigoblin , @toomanyfanficsbruh , @farmboyprince , @nonsensefunsense , @slightly-psycho-multifan , @jxmimac , @anarchelsworld , @beepbeep-yeah , @faithiikins

[short-honey-badger]

Doll 2

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Shanks can't stop thinking about you and how you'll fit in with the crew

Warnings: late night thoughts and mentions of abuse

Doll Masterlist

Later that night, while Shanks lay in the room he'd rented, the redhead couldn't stop thinking about you. Even while pleasantly buzzed still from earlier, his mind was a whirlwind of thought, and as much as it disgusted him to consider, he did want to know what kind of slave you were. The Celestial Dragons were known to keep all kinds of races, from Fishman to Giants. Labor, entertainment, pleasure.

Shanks hoped that you hadn't been part of the latter. You didn't seem like it, didn't have the innate sultry look that Shanks had seen before, but that didn't mean you couldn't hide it from him. He could go ask you, demand you tell him since he was the one who decided to bring you on board, but the thought of doing that left an awful taste in his mouth. Shanks wanted you to trust him. He wanted to be your friend.

You hadn't told him much about your past, only the little bit that you’d been willing to share with him so far, but Shanks wanted you to feel safe enough that you would want to share everything with him eventually. He wanted to see you smile more, wanted to see you relax and feel at home with him and the rest of his crew. You wanted to know everything, so Shanks would make sure you got what you wanted.

A knock on his door tore the captain from his thoughts, and he jumped from the bed to open the door. You stood on the other side, a contrite expression on your face. His own schools into one of concern and lean against the doorway.

“Everything okay, Doll?” He asks quietly and has a hard time not reaching out to cup her face when you bite your lip and avoid his eyes. He waits patiently for you, not willing to rush you into anything that you might not be read for.

“I just wanted to say thank you. I didn’t earlier, and it’s been bothering me,” you ramble and then fall silent. You don’t want your new captain to rescind his offer to join him, but you’ve been instructed to say please and thank you since you could remember, even if whatever you’d been sent to do ended in punishment.

Shanks softens even more at your admission. He can see the old fear lingering in your eyes, and it makes rage boil in his chest that you’ve been subject to such treatment that a simple thank you made you so nervous. He doesn’t fight the urge this time to reach out to cup your face in his hand, his lips turning up in a sad smile.

“Sweetheart. You don’t have to thank me for something like this. Don’t think you have to treat me and mine like you had to treat those bastards. I don’t own you, Doll. You own yourself.”

He watches in mild panic as tears form in your eyes, and then he has a chest full of sobbing woman. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer to try and provide some form of comfort. Shanks isn’t the best at this, but for you? He’d try his damndest. He dips his head and presses a kiss to the top of your head and listens as your sobs begin to slow down into quiet sniffles.

You grimace as you pull away and look at his shirt from where your face had been pressed, “I’m sorry, I got you all nasty.”

Shanks laughs and shakes his head. You were adorable like this, and he couldn’t get enough of it, “Darling. I promise you that this shirt has had worse than some snot and tears on it.”

The look of disgust that paints your face is all worth the confession, and Shanks only laughs harder when you pull away and wipe your face. You crinkle your nose and eye him with a now skeptical look, “When was the last time you washed that shirt?”

Shanks aims an innocent look, lips pursed as he shrugs a shoulder. You scoff and cross your arms, but your fear from earlier seems to be gone, so the redhead is happy.

“Maybe it is a good thing I’m coming along. A crew full of men probably needs a woman’s touch,” You quip, and Shanks can’t help but silently agree. He won’t lie and say that the laundry doesn’t get piled up on occasion. Or the dishes despite Lucky Roux keeping the kitchen orderly. He’s guilty himself for letting his quarters get a little too messy. But he didn’t bring you along so that you could be their maid.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, _,” Shanks murmurs, tone dropping the playful tilt as he catches her chin in his hand, “I’m not bringing you with us for that.”

His heart thuds in his chest at the smile that you send him. You slowly reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist, squeezing softly before letting your hand fall back to your side. It makes you feel good that Shanks is taking your comfort in mind, but you wouldn’t be a burden on his ship.

“I know that, but I don’t think I could physically just sit around and do nothing. I’ve worked… my whole life, Shanks, and I don’t want to be just another mouth to feed. I want to be helpful,” you say and shrug a little helplessly. The only break you’ve ever had was in the last month of your escape, but even then, you were constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if this would be the day that someone recognized you and dragged you back to Marie Geois. The guilt of leaving the other slaves behind still ate at you, and you wished that you could have been able to take them with you.

“Then we’ll figure it out as we go, Doll,” Shanks promises and strokes his thumb along your jaw like he had earlier before he drops his hand. He doesn’t want you to think that he wants you for anything other than your company. Not that you’re not beautiful, but Shanks doesn’t want you to think he expected something like that from you. Not unless you wanted it.

You blush at th efeeling of the rough pad of his finger against your skin. You didn’t like it when people touched you, but you found that dislike absent when Shanks did it. It felt natural and kept you grounded in a way you didn’t expect. You flick your eyes up, catching his own and send him a small smile, “Thank you again, Shanks.”

The redhead meets it with a grin of his own. A yawn suddenly catches you off guard, and you cover your mouth with a hand, eyes squinting as you look away from him. Shanks snickers at the way your nose scrunches up and steps back into his room.

“Go catch some sleep, Doll. We’ll stay here a couple more days to resupply, and then we’ll be on our way,” Shanks yawns himself halfway through, his words coming out slow and choppy before they even out. He smirks when his antics make you laugh, and then he is watching you turn on your heel and lope down the hall, “Night, Doll.”

“Night, Shanks,” you call softly back, and then you disappear around the corner. Shanks sighs once you are gone. Mind stuffed even more with thoughts about you as he shuts the door and lays back down. He rubs a hand down his face and rolls to his side, vowing to figure out the details in the morning.

[star2fishmeg]

Luke being dirty at Hughes thanksgiving dinner 😌😌😌😌

We don't celebrate Thanksgiving where I am so I apologise if this is so off😅 But either way, happy Thanksgiving to all those who celebrate! <33

If there's one thing you're suddenly thankful for, it's that Luke's parents draped the table with a relatively long tablecloth. Maybe another is your ability to keep your composure unlike your boyfriend, who whines and writhes when your hands are all over him.

Luke's chewing his food roughly, eyes darting between you and Jack, who's in the middle of telling his family a story, his breathing deep and stomach coated in that tingly, warm feeling he gets when he's buried deep inside you. His hand between your burning thighs, panties pulled to the side and his finger, the middle one, the longest one, plunging languidly in and out of your cunt, his other's hands grip on his fork so tight sweat makes the metal heat up. With the way you're sat, it takes a little bit of effort for him to reach, but it's not like anyone's paying attention when you shuffle closer to Luke, slouching back in your chair slightly for better access and feeling your gummy walls taking him easily, gliding in your slick as you try to chew to avoid mewling.

He leans over, whispering, "How long are you gonna keep this act up, angel? You're squeezing me real tight."

"You're gonna have to do a lot better than that." You give him a little smile before continuing with your meal.

He huffs, sliding his finger out and uses the pads of his middle and ring finger to toy with your clit, rubbing slow circles. Your stomach flips, a wave of pleasure rippling through you when he spreads your folds, the pressure against your bud perfect and Luke knows no one's paying mind to what he's doing, his brother's taking up the attention and for once he's happy about it.

The lack of acknowledgement frustrates him, his jaw clenching and two fingers insert inside you, pussy stretching around them like he's trained it to and thrusting, gradually picking up the pace the way he knows you like. He watches your grip on your cutlery tighten, your breath hitching as he curls his fingers, petting your sweet spot abruptly.

Your eyes widen and your knee jolts up, hitting the table and causing a thud, sets of eyes darting to stare at you. Luke's fingers stroke deeply, dragging against your walls,

"Shit, you okay, babe?" Luke holds back a smile, concern covering his amusement.

"Yeah, just hit my knee, sorry." Your smile falters, heat rising your neck and Jack continues his story, leaving you and Luke in your own bubble again.

"Lu," you breathe, fingers wrapping around his wrist in an attempt to slow his pumping, "Slow down, gon…gonna-"

He leans closer, presses his lips to your temple, voice tauntingly low in your ear, "Gonna what, angel? Gonna cum on my fingers? At the dinner table? Such a filthy girl, hm?" Your eyes bore up into his, hand still holding his wrist as his fingers drive faster, your lower stomach tight and fiendish for relief, waiting for the moment you'll soak your panties and his fingers but the closer Luke brings you, the more euphoria that surges, the slower he thrusts and just when you feel your high starting to hit, he withdraws his hand, wiping his sopping fingers on his jeans and teasing you with a grin and a wink. Your thighs clamp together, squeezing to make up for that lost friction and that pleasure that enlightened you plummeted. You'll get him later; he's had his fun, but he won't be smiling when you've got him begging underneath you.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Reunited 5

Pairing: modern!Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: So this is it. The journey has come to the end and I'm a bit sad but also very happy. This fic has a lot my own struggles within it and it has helped me to think over and let go of certain things that had accumulated. But before Sihtric and reader can look forward into the bright and shiny future they have to resolve some unsorted questions. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Warnings: it's emotionally tense with some angst and self reflection but still sweet

Summary: It was supposed to be a short two week trip that turned into five long years apart, just because your best friend couldn't keep her mouth shut. Will the reader and Sihtric manage to repair their broken relationship and find their way back to each other? Or will the reader decide to stay with the handsome and talented Sigtryggr?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word Count: 7,8 K

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

You felt a surge of betrayal twist through you, an uncomfortable déjà vu that made your stomach drop. The whole scene was surreal, and your mind spun, trying to piece it all together. But before you could say a word, Sigtryggr's hand found yours under the blanket, his grip firm and panicked.

“This—this isn’t what it looks like, I swear,” he stammered, his face pale and clearly horrified by the scene unfolding. He scrambled to sit up, looking between you and the woman standing in the doorway. “This is… this is Stiorra, my ex-girlfriend.”

Stiorra crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised as she regarded him with a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “And in case there’s any doubt,” she interjected, “I’m the one who threw him out.” Her eyes flicked to you, and a slightly sheepish smile softened her expression. “Told him to never come back, actually.”

Sigtryggr winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not exactly a high point in our relationship,” he muttered. Then, as if desperate to regain some semblance of control, he gestured toward the kitchen. “Stiorra, why don’t you, uh… wait in the kitchen? Give us a moment?”

With a sigh that suggested she was equally exhausted by this awkward situation, Stiorra shrugged. “Fine. But we’re talking after,” she said, shooting him a look that clearly communicated there was unfinished business between them. She turned on her heel, retreating to the kitchen and leaving the two of you in a tense silence.

You exhaled, still feeling the sting of surprise. “So, let me get this straight. Your ex-girlfriend who kicked you out now has a key and comes barging in?”

Sigtryggr’s cheeks flushed as he stumbled over his words. “It’s… complicated. We broke up months ago. She kept the key for emergencies, but I didn’t think she’d actually use it. I mean, she made it pretty clear she never wanted to see me again.” He shook his head, his eyes wide with a mixture of embarrassment and desperation. “I had no idea she’d be coming by today, I swear.”

You let out a breath, half-amused by his genuine horror at the situation. Despite everything, there was something undeniably ridiculous about it all. Here was this cool, collected artist, now completely rattled by his ex-girlfriend unexpectedly showing up while he was in bed with someone else.

You finally cracked a small smile. “You couldn’t make this up if you tried.”

He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “This really isn’t how I imagined our morning together going. I’m sorry.”

Before you could respond, Stiorra’s voice called from the kitchen. “I’m making coffee. There’s milk and sugar somewhere—if Sigtryggr actually bought groceries this week, that is.”

Sigtryggr’s eyes met yours, full of sheepishness, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension starting to dissolve. “I’ll take that as a hint to get dressed,” you said, sliding out of bed and grabbing your clothes, feeling his gaze following you apologetically.

“Take your time,” Stiorra called again, her voice faintly dripping with irony. “I’ll try not to make it more awkward.”

As if more awkward was even possible, a stifled laugh escaped you as you slipped into your clothes, feeling like you were in some strange, twisted sitcom. Sigtryggr joined you, tossing on his shirt and jeans quickly, his eyes darting nervously between you and the kitchen.

Once you were both dressed, you headed to the kitchen. Stiorra was there, leaning against the counter with a mug in hand, her lips twisted in a wry smile. She looked at you and Sigtryggr with an expression that was part curiosity, part thinly veiled irritation. Two other steaming mugs waited on the counter and you grabbed one like a life saviour.

"Well," she drawled, swirling her coffee. "I see you’ve wasted no time finding a replacement." Her gaze flicked from you to Sigtryggr, her tone razor-sharp. "Or were you just waiting for the perfect moment to jump into someone else’s bed, Sigtryggr? Good to know you’ve been so… resilient."

You saw a flicker of hurt cross Sigtryggr’s face as he tried to respond, his gaze darting briefly to you before returning to Stiorra, as if caught in some unresolved pull. He shifted beside you, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Stiorra," he managed, his voice tight, "you know it’s not  like that. It’s been almost half a year..."

But she didn’t give him room to explain. She looked down at her coffee, a hint of sadness breaking through her sarcasm as her fingers tightened around the mug. "I didn’t come here to make a scene," she murmured, her tone softening. "I just… I thought I wanted to move on. But maybe I was wrong."

You swallowed hard, your eyes darted from Sigtryggr to his ex-girlfriend and truth be told the only coherent thought was the increasingly intensive wish for the earth to open up and swallow you whole. Facing lions in the Colosseum would have been a more appealing option than drinking coffee in what you’d thought was your new boyfriend’s kitchen, watching it turn into a stage for a soap opera. Whoever said, "If something looks too good to be true, it probably is," had clearly known exactly what they were talking about.

Stiorra lifted her gaze to meet Sigtryggr’s, her defiance melting into something softer, tinged with regret. 

"Siggy, baby, I’m so sorry!" she blurted, her voice cracking as her teary eyes searched his. The sudden burst of emotions startled you both, leaving the room steeped in uncomfortable tension. "Leaving you wasn’t what I thought I wanted," she continued, the words tumbling out, unrestrained and unguarded. "It was the biggest mistake of my life, and I just hoped you… you might feel the same. I couldn’t wait any longer—I just needed to tell you this." Her gaze darted back to the steaming coffee in her hands, as though she couldn’t bear to face him anymore. “I never imagined you’d move on so fast, not after everything we had together.”

You glanced over at Sigtryggr, who looked as if he’d just been slapped with a cold fish. The usual calm, steady demeanour he carried so effortlessly was gone, replaced by a vulnerable uncertainty you hadn’t seen before. His mouth opened as if to respond, then closed again, his mind clearly spinning in too many directions to form coherent words. He looked at you briefly, but his attention was drawn back to Stiorra, as if caught by an invisible thread that still connected them.

His eyes softened, a hint of that old, unguarded affection surfacing as he stammered. “Stiorra, I… I didn’t expect this. I thought… we were over. I thought you’d moved on.”

The longing in his voice was unmistakable. You felt an odd pang, a mixture of empathy and unease as you watched him struggle. The way he looked at her, his gaze clouded with both confusion and something undeniably tender, told you more than his words ever could. And strangely you didn’t even feel betrayed. You felt a deep understanding, even sympathy kindling within you. 

It was clearly time to make an exit before this scene turned into a full-blown tragicomedy. But before you could even think of a polite way to excuse yourself, Stiorra’s gaze shifted to you, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh, I know who you are,” she said, her tone casual—almost too casual. “You must be the mysterious girl who broke Sihtric’s heart. I’ve seen your picture, actually. He still keeps one in his wallet.”

“What?” The words hit you like a frying pan to the face, and you nearly dropped your coffee mug. This was beyond surreal; it was a nightmare layered with unwanted revelations. You glanced around, looking for any possible way to evaporate from the room as a wave of nausea crept over you.

Stiorra caught your reaction, her gaze sharpening as if sensing your unease. “No,” she said, her eyes assessing you calmly. “Not like that. Sihtric and I were never… involved.” She gave a casual shrug, one that seemed both reassuring and indifferent. “But I know him well enough. He worked for my father, Uhtred, for quite some time. And we have some mutual friends—Finan, Osferth. They’re close, practically brothers.”

You swallowed, still processing the shock as she spoke, and noticed the way her gaze flickered, slightly more empathetic now. Sigtryggr shifted beside you, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading, his gaze moving between you and Stiorra.

“Stiorra,” he said, clearing his throat, his voice a mixture of discomfort and quiet insistence, “I think we’re all getting a bit caught off guard here.”

Stiorra shrugged, but her expression softened as she looked back at him. “Maybe,” she admitted, voice gentler now. “But some things are better said than left hanging.” She turned her attention back to you. “Haven’t seen him in a while, but… he never really got over you, you know.”

The words landed like a stone in your chest, and for a moment, you felt the weight of everything you’d tried to put behind you pressing in. 

“Wait, hold on!” you blurted out, the words escaping faster than you could stop them and surely much louder than you wanted. “I broke his heart? What the hell are you talking about? He was the one who found someone else less than a week after I was out of sight.”

Stiorra’s eyes widened at your outburst. She hesitated before responding, her voice softer, almost cautious. “Wait… really? I don’t know all the details,” she admitted, glancing away briefly, “but I know for sure that Sihtric has been a mess since you left. Osferth and Finan have been trying to get him back on his feet, trying to knock some sense into him. But he’s just… shut everyone out, suffering in silence.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but something in her expression stopped you. There was a subtle reproach that made you falter.

Her words stung. You knew them—Osferth and Finan—Sihtric’s closest friends. Meeting them had felt like a significant step, almost as if you were meeting his family. Sihtric barely spoke about his parents or any siblings, but these two were an inseparable part of his life. The night he’d introduced you to them still lingered vividly in your memory.

Finan had taken to you right away, looking at you with an approving grin, clapping Sihtric on the shoulder and saying, “Finally, he’s found someone who might actually keep him in line.” His easy laughter and quick wit made you feel like you’d known him for years, and there was a warmth to his acceptance that had meant more than he probably knew.

Osferth, meanwhile, had been a bit more reserved, a touch of shyness in his gentle eyes. But there had been a sweetness in the way he’d talked to you, always quick to ask if you needed anything, checking that you felt included. You’d quickly learned he was the steady, caring presence in their group, looking out for both Sihtric and Finan with a brotherly devotion.

Those early evenings with them had been filled with laughter and endless stories from their nights out. You’d felt embraced by the friendship, a part of the easy bond they all shared. But when Sihtric walked out of your life, that sense of belonging had vanished too. They had been his friends, not yours, and your connection with them had ended as abruptly as your relationship with him.

“Look,” Stiorra continued, her voice pulling you back from your thoughts, “there are always two sides to a story. But only one truth. If you want to know more, maybe… maybe you should talk to Finan and Osferth. They know him better than anyone and could probably tell you more than I can.”

Without another word, you stood up, the urge to leave overpowering any sense of decorum. Sigtryggr reached out, his face a mix of surprise and worry as he tried to get your attention. “Hey, are you okay? What’s going on?”

You shook your head, barely able to meet his gaze. “I just… I need to go. I need…” The words trailed off, but you didn’t even bother to finish the sentence as you hastily grabbed your purse and headed to the doors without a single look back. 

You knew that Osferth worked as an assistant stylist at one of the top fashion studios, and Finan had a reputation as a brilliant set designer, always moving between shoots with an infectious energy. They were well-known figures in the industry, so it didn’t take long to track them down at a nearby studio where they were scheduled to prepare for an upcoming campaign.

The studio was bustling when you arrived. Assistants hurried about, racks of clothes lined the walls, and the hum of people preparing for a major shoot filled the space. You spotted Finan first, standing with his hands on his hips, joking with a lighting technician, his signature grin lighting up his face. Beside him, Osferth was focused on arranging a set of accessories on a table, his usually reserved expression serious as he worked.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, and Finan caught sight of you. His grin faded, replaced by surprise that quickly gave way to guarded curiosity. He nudged Osferth, who looked up in shock, the familiar softness in his eyes now laced with uncertainty and distance you hadn’t expected. The two exchanged a look before approaching you, their movements careful, almost wary, as if they were unsure of how to greet you.

“Hey,” you managed, your voice catching. “I… I need to talk to you. About Sihtric.”

“Well,” Finan said, crossing his arms, his voice lacking its usual warmth. “If it isn’t the ghost from Sihtric’s past.”

The jab landed harder than you’d expected, his accusatory tone sinking into you like a heavy stone.

Finan’s gaze was steely, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he fixed you with an unforgiving look. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?” he said, his voice thick with frustration. “Twice now, you’ve come crashing into his life—first, tearing him apart, and now, strolling back in like a stranger, as if he doesn’t deserve even a shred of understanding for everything he’s been through. The least you could do is thank him for what he did for you.”

“What he did for me?” you repeated, your voice barely a whisper, caught in a haze of disbelief. You couldn’t even process the meaning behind his accusations, feeling as if you’d just walked into an ambush. You regretted coming here, every instinct screaming at you to turn and leave, to escape this room and the anger that pressed down on you from all sides. Blinking back tears that threatened to spill, you took a shaky step back, but Finan didn’t relent.

He moved closer, his gaze piercing, his voice unyielding. “Do you know how long it took him to get his life back together after you left?” he continued, his tone unwavering. “To even begin piecing himself back together? And then you show up out of nowhere, with no idea what he’s been through, and somehow make him fall all over again.”

Stunned, you stared at him, but he wasn’t finished. “We’ve been trying to help him move on for ages. Osferth and I—do you know how many nights we’ve spent picking him up after he shut everyone out, barely holding on? He’s been carrying this burden alone since the day he let you go.” Finan scoffed, his voice low and dark with exasperation. “And you—you have the nerve to walk back and judge him?”

You wanted to move but you felt rooted to the spot as you couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down your cheeks anymore. “Thank him? For what? For dropping me and finding another less than a week after I wasn’t in sight? For ruining my life, leaving me gathering the shards?”

Finan drew a deep breath, but Osferth interrupted him, placing a calming hand on Finan’s arm, though his face still held traces of disappointment as he looked at you. “Finan wait. Something’s not right there.” His eyes shifted to you, his expression softening, but only slightly. “And that’s all you know about what happened?”  he asked, his tone measured but no less serious. 

“What else is there to know?” you snapped, frustration simmering in your chest. “I thought he loved me, and the next thing I know, he’s moved on like I never existed. I think I have a right to be a little angry.”

Finan exchanged a glance with Osferth, as if confirming something, then sighed, rubbing his temples. “So, Gisela never told you why he did it?”

You felt your stomach clench at the mention of Gisela. Confusion gave way to a creeping unease, your mind racing to piece together what they were trying to say. “Gisela?” you repeated, barely masking the surprise in your voice. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

Osferth shifted uncomfortably, his gaze turning thoughtful. “Gisela came to him. Said it would be better if he… stepped aside. She told him about that offer you got, the scholarship and the contract – that once in a lifetime opportunity for you. She’s the one who convinced him to let you go. She told him it would be best for you to focus on your future, that he was holding you back.  And Sihtric… well, he thought he was doing what was best for you.”

“Best for me?” The words felt hollow, ringing with an irony that cut deeper with each syllable. You felt a wave of disbelief crash over you, your stomach twisting as you processed his words.

Osferth nodded, his gaze sombre. “He figured if he just… cut ties, you’d have no reason to look back. He tried to bury how he felt, make you believe he’d moved on. But we both know it tore him apart. He’s never been the same since you left.”

You felt your knees weaken, the ground beneath you seeming to tilt as the truth settled over you, each piece of information landing like a blow. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—all of it twisted into something else, something that left you feeling hollow. Your legs gave way, turning to jelly, and you would have surely hit the ground if Finan and Osferth hadn’t steadied you from each side.

“Easy there!” Finan’s voice had softened, a warmth returning that you hadn’t expected as he guided you, his anger replaced by concern. He quickly waved to a set assistant walking nearby. “Get a chair—and some water!” he called, his tone firm but urgent.

You barely noticed the assistant rushing off. A chair was brought over, and Finan and Osferth eased you into it, the world around you blurring as you tried to comprehend what you just heard. Osferth knelt beside you, his eyes steady and full of sadness as he handed you the water.

“I… I didn’t know,” you stammered, the words feeling small, inadequate. You looked at them, your voice cracking. “I thought he… I thought he didn’t care. I thought he wanted me gone.”

Finan shook his head, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. “It was never about him not caring. He thought he was doing the right thing—for you.”

“He’s been living with that choice,” Finan added quietly, his eyes meeting yours, “because he thought it would give you a better life.”

Osferth placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his tone gentle. “Sometimes people make the hardest choices for the ones they love. Doesn’t mean they don’t hurt just as much.”

“Maybe… maybe it’s time you hear it from him,” Finan said softly, his tone no longer accusatory but understanding.

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

The worry gnawed at you, growing with each unanswered call, each message left unread. Sihtric had vanished after the fashion show, and as the hours without a word turned into an entire day, you found yourself pacing around your apartment like a caged animal, restless and frustrated.

You hadn’t wanted to go to his place—not at first. The idea of stepping into his space felt like giving up the neutral ground you’d hoped to keep. But as your concern deepened, it became clear that there was no other option. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your things and headed out, finally making your way to his apartment.

When you arrived, you looked up to see a warm glow coming from Sihtric’s window. Relief flooded over you—he was home. You exhaled deeply, feeling the tightness in your chest ease, if only a little. You deliberately chose the stairs over the elevator, hoping the walk up would give you time to gather your thoughts. But even with the extra moments, your mind remained frustratingly blank, and your heart raced like a drumbeat in your chest.

Standing in front of his door, you raised your hand to the doorbell, trying to ignore the nervous twist in your stomach. But instead of ringing, you pressed your palm and ear to the door, straining to hear any sign of movement on the other side. Come on, you can do this, you urged yourself, taking a deep, steadying breath. Finally, you lifted your hand and pressed the button, feeling your pulse quicken as you waited for him to answer.

A sinking feeling twisted in your gut as there was only silence on the other side but you refused to give up. You pressed the doorbell again, then again, determined to get some response. Still, nothing.

“Sihtric,” you finally called. “I know you’re in there. I can see the light. Please, just talk to me.”

Silence stretched, pressing down on you. Frustrated, you balled your fists and pounded on the door, the echo of each hit ricocheting down the empty corridor. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked open, and you glanced over your shoulder to find a pair of curious, disapproving eyes peering at you through a crack. But you were beyond caring about nosy neighbours. Ignoring them, you turned back to Sihtric’s door and knocked again, your voice catching slightly as you called his name once more.

Just as you felt the last shimmer of hope begin to slip away, you heard a faint shuffle behind the door, the sound of hesitant footsteps drawing closer. Relief flickered through you, only to fade as his voice, rough and bitter, cut through the silence.

“Just… go away,” he muttered, his tone carrying a heaviness that felt like a punch to the chest. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Sihtric?” you called, pressing a hand against the door. “Please, open up. I just want to talk.”

Silence. But you knew he was there, so you waited. A bitter, muffled voice finally answered. “Why? There’s nothing more to talk about,” he replied, his tone rough, barely masking the exhaustion in his voice. “Just… leave me alone.”

Ignoring his dismissal, you leaned closer, unwilling to let him shut you out. “Sihtric, please. I was wrong. I was wrong not wanting to listen to you, shutting you out. Please open the door, so we can talk. I just… I need to understand.”

He scoffed from the other side, the bitterness in his voice cutting. “Understand? You want to understand now? Why? You have your perfect little life, your perfect job, your prince charming.” His words were laced with sarcasm. “You want to judge me? I already gave you the chance for that at the show. I saw it on your face. I don’t need more of that.”

You pressed your forehead against the door, your heart pounding as you tried to will back tears slowly gathering in the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry. Sihtric, can you hear me? I’m so sorry. And I wasn’t judging you, Sihtric. I was just… surprised. I’m not here to make things worse. I came because I care.”

On the other side of the door, Sihtric stood still, barely breathing, his entire body tense. He could feel the ache in his shoulders and neck, the result of hours spent tossing and turning through a sleepless night, haunted by thoughts of you and his own spiralling decisions. Every muscle felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion, regret and anger.

He wanted to open the door. Part of him ached to see you, to hear your voice without the barrier between you. But another part—larger, stronger, the part that had convinced him to let you go years ago—held him back. That part reminded him of everything he’d become, the mess he’d made of his life since then, and the humiliation of his drunken, jealousy-fueled outburst at the fashion show. He clenched his fists, fighting the shame that burned inside him, wondering if he could ever face you again.

His heart pounded, each beat reverberating with the bitterness that had taken root within him. What did he have to offer you now? He was broken, he knew that much, and he’d spent too long building up his defences to believe someone would want to come close enough to help him pick up the pieces. Especially not you—the one person he’d hurt most by pushing you away.

Drawing a deep shaky breath he slowly slid down to the ground, resting his back against the door. His elbows propped on his knees he buried his face in his hands, the world reduced to the darkness behind his closed eyelids. 

The memories of the fashion show flashed in his mind—your face when he’d approached you, the shock and disappointment in your eyes, the way he’d stumbled through his words, lost in a haze of jealousy and alcohol. The regret was a deep wound now, throbbing with every word you spoke on the other side of the door.

What could he say to you? That he was sorry? Sorry didn’t even begin to cover the tangled mess he’d made of things. 

The sound of your voice, pleading, coaxing him to open the door, tore at him. He could feel you there, so close, and it made everything hurt more sharply. Sihtric let out a shaky breath, feeling the first sting of tears pressing at the corners of his eyes, but he held them back, unwilling to let himself break down, even now.

“Why are you here?” he muttered under his breath, as much to himself as to you. His voice was rough, barely hiding the bitterness he felt, not even toward you but toward himself. “What good can come from this?”

He sat there, torn between the urge to stand up, unlock the door, and reach for you, and the dark, cynical voice in his mind that told him to stay hidden, that he didn’t deserve whatever you were here to offer.

And yet, through it all, he couldn’t help but listen, couldn’t ignore the hope in your words, the softness in your tone. He could almost feel you on the other side, feel the warmth you brought, a warmth he hadn’t felt in years. 

But that hope was terrifying. Because if he opened the door, if he let you in… The very idea of you seeing him like this—broken, regret-filled and barely holding it together—filled him with shame. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to do that. He probably wasn’t. 

Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Sihtric’s breathing grew uneven, and for a moment, you wondered if he’d even heard you. Then, his voice cut through the quiet, rough and worn, tinged with a bitterness that struck you like a physical blow.

“I don’t need your sympathy,” he muttered, the words laced with frustration. “I don’t need anything from you. Just leave me alone—I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“Sihtric,” you called softly, pressing your hand flat against the door. “Please… just open the door.”

When he didn’t respond, you clenched your fists and banged against the door, louder this time, not caring who heard. “Sihtric, I’m not going anywhere! You don’t have to shut me out. I know… I know what you did for me. I know why you left.”

There was a pause, so deep and tense you could hear the faint sounds from the street outside, muffled and distant. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely audible, fragile. “Who told you that?”

You took a steadying breath, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your tone. “Finan and Osferth,” you replied. “They told me everything. How you thought leaving was best for me, how you made it look like you’d moved on just so I wouldn’t come back… how you suffered through it all because you thought it was the right thing.”

There was another pause, and then he laughed, a hollow, defeated sound that twisted painfully in your chest. “So, what?” he said, his voice wavering, barely holding steady. “You came here to pity me? To see what a mess I’ve made of myself?” He sounded tired, as if the words themselves were an effort. “I don’t need your pity either.”

For a moment, all you could hear was his unsteady breathing. You imagined him, standing just on the other side, close enough to touch if only he’d open the door. It was driving you mad—having him so close but so far away at the same time. You silently cursed yourself for turning him down, for refusing to listen when he had tried to talk to you before. Why had you been so cold? Why had you let fear take over?

But it wasn’t just your fear that had brought you to this moment. Gisela. The thought struck like a dagger, bitter and sharp. Why had she meddled? Why had she pushed Sihtric into making that choice without ever telling you? All those times she’d been there, comforting you, assuring you that moving on was the right thing to do—she had known. She had known the truth and had kept it from you. Why, Gisela? you thought bitterly, your hands balling into fists against the door. Why did you do this to me? To us?

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against the door, the whirlwind of emotions inside you felt unbearable, but amidst the chaos, a single thought began to crystallize with startling clarity. I’m not letting this go. Not this time. You had spent too long blaming others for what had happened—Sihtric, the universe, now Gisela. Too long nursing your pain, placing it on a pedestal like some kind of shield to justify not moving forward, not letting yourself feel again. But you couldn’t hide from the truth anymore. This wasn’t just pain or regret—this was love. It had never stopped being love, and it was time you faced it.

You straightened slightly, you weren’t going to let the past define what was left of your future. This was your chance, and you weren’t going to let fear or pride hold you back any longer. Sihtric deserved the truth, and so did you. He needed to hear it, to know that you still loved him—not the sanitized, half-forgotten version of love you’d pretended to bury, but the real thing. The kind of love that ached, that fought, that refused to let go.

And he needed to know the part you’d played in letting it all fall apart. The anger you’d clung to, the walls you’d built to protect yourself, all of it had driven you away from him when you should have stayed and fought, and you needed to own that. 

“I’m not giving up on this,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him, though you hoped he could feel the determination in your voice. “Not this time, not again.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the door as your only support as you leaned against it. “Sihtric,” you began, your voice trembling, but there was no hesitation in your words. “Please, just listen to me. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Please, I’m begging you just hear me out. I’m here because… because I never stopped loving you.”

You could feel his breathing hitch on the other side, but he didn’t say anything, and you went on, needing him to hear everything.

“I wanted to hate you,” you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. “I tried. I thought that if I could just hate you, it would be easier. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t hate you, not really. Even when I tried to move on, to make a life without you… I couldn’t let go of you. No one else could replace what you mean to me.”

On the other side of the door, Sihtric let out a ragged breath, his hands covering his face. 

The weight of your own words took their toll, and slowly, your legs gave way. You slid down to the ground, sitting with your back pressed against the door, your head resting against the wood as you stared at the empty hallway in front of you. 

“When you wanted to talk to me that day at the shoot… I was so cold because I was scared, Sihtric,” you whispered, the confession falling from your lips before you could stop it. “I was afraid that if I let you in, even a little, I’d break. That all the walls I put up to protect myself would come crashing down.”

Sihtric listened, his face buried in his hands, feeling every word you spoke burning holes in his soul. He wanted to reach for you, to say something, but something kept him still, the knowledge of everything he’d put both of you through holding him back. His breath was shaky, his heart pounding as he imagined you there, only inches away.

“I tried to move on, Sihtric,” you continued. “I tried to make a life without you. I even tried to love someone else, to find what I had with you with someone new. But it didn’t work. No one… no one ever felt like you.”

Sihtric’s hands dropped from his face, and he pressed his palms flat against the door, his fingers splaying out as if they could reach you through the barrier between you as he felt his resolve breaking, his walls crumbling bit by bit.

“I thought letting you go was the best thing I could do for you,” he murmured. “I thought that if I hurt you enough, you’d decide to leave me behind… and you’d never look back. I wanted you to be successful and happy, even if it meant I couldn’t be.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you listened, your heart breaking all over again. “Don’t you see?” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “I was never happy without you. I kept telling myself that I could be, but deep down, I knew… I knew I’d never feel whole again.”

For a moment, the two of you sat there, separated by inches of wood and miles of unspoken feelings, both of you held captive by the same painful memories and buried longing.

“You don’t understand…” he continued, his voice breaking. “I’m not who I used to be. I’m not… I’m not enough for you, you need someone better. I don’t even know who I am anymore. You should be out there, living that life you’ve created and earned, not here… with someone like me.”

You swallowed hard, tears pooling in your eyes but refusing to fall. “I don’t need someone better, Sihtric. I need you,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “The real you, flaws and all. I can’t pretend anymore that everything’s fine without you in my life. I don’t care about perfect, Sihtric. I just… I just want you.”

The silence behind the door was deafening, stretching longer than you could bear. Your chest tightened, every second dragging on like an eternity. You strained to hear anything—a shuffle, a breath, even the slightest indication that he was still there—but there was nothing. The hollow quiet seeped into your heart, threatening to shatter it into a thousand pieces again.

Was this really the end? The thought weighed heavy, pressing against you until you couldn’t sit upright any longer. Slowly, you laid your head down on your knees, clutching them tightly as if to hold yourself together. You felt the sting of finality creeping in, the cruel certainty that you had done everything you could. It was time to stand up, to walk away, and this time, not look back.

But just as you started to gather the strength to rise, a faint, almost imperceptible sound reached your ears. A click. Your breath hitched as the unmistakable sound of the lock turning echoed softly through the silence.

You turned your head at the sound of the door creaking open, and there he was. Sihtric stood in the doorway. He looked exhausted, dark rings encircling his beautiful large eyes, face shadowed and tired. His hair was disheveled, and his shirt was rumpled, hanging loosely on his frame, but you didn’t care. All you could see was him, standing there, finally letting you in.

You jumped to your feet, propelled by a wave of relief and emotion, and lunged at him before you could think twice. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and the two of you stumbled backward into the apartment, the door swinging shut behind you. Your arms wrapped tightly around him, holding on as though he might disappear again if you let go. Tears streamed down your cheeks, soaking into his rumpled shirt as you buried your face against his broad, muscular chest.

For a moment, he stood frozen, his hands hovering uncertainly by his sides. Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms came around you, pulling you closer. He let out a shuddering breath, the tension in his body giving way as he held you tightly, like he was afraid this was just another fleeting dream.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled against him, trembling with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry, Sihtric. For shutting you out. For not fighting harder. For letting my anger win.”

His chest rose and fell beneath you as he struggled to steady his breathing. His voice was rough, as he finally spoke. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It was me… all of it. I pushed you away. I thought it was the only way.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. 

“I should’ve fought for us,” you said, your voice breaking. “I should’ve seen through it, through what you were doing. But I didn’t.”

His hand came up to cup your face, his touch tentative, almost disbelieving. “You couldn’t have known,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I made sure of that. I wanted you to move on, to be happy.”

“I wasn’t happy,” you said, shaking your head. “I could never be happy without you.”

He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against yours as a tear slid down his cheek. “I don’t know if I can fix this. If I can fix me.”

You reached up, your fingers tracing the stubble along his jaw as you steadied your voice. “You don’t have to fix anything. We’ll figure it out together. Just, please, don’t push me away again.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just held you, his hands trembling slightly as they clung to you. Then, he leaned in and his lips brushed yours in a soft, lingering kiss that carried the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

Sihtric's lips trembled against yours, as you pressed into him, your hands clutching harder the fabric of his shirt, silently telling him that you were here, that this was real. You kissed him back pouring all your emotions into that one single gentle touch of lips, getting more heated and desperate with each passing moment.

When he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, he began to press a trail of kisses across your cheeks, your forehead, the bridge of your nose. 

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough and low. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I tried to forget… when I tried to move on, I couldn’t.” His lips found yours again, more insistent this time, as though he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t hold back the flood of emotions he’d kept buried for so long.

“I tried to find someone else,” he admitted, his voice breaking as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. His breath was warm and unsteady. “I thought I could replace what we had. But it was never the same. No one could ever be you.” His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his grip firm but gentle. “I don’t want anyone else. I can’t. It’s always been you, and it will always be you.”

Without warning, he scooped you up into his strong arms, holding you effortlessly as though you weighed nothing. You gasped softly, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with something raw and unrestrained.

“I need you,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “I need you in every part of my life. And right now… I need to show you how much I love you.”

You smiled through tears, you fingers tangling in his thick, disheveled hair. You pulled him closer and with a low almost desperate growl his lips captured yours again as he carried you further into the apartment.

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

The soft hum of voices and the gentle clinking of glasses filled the air as you arrived at the exhibition, a feeling of anticipation settling in your chest. Gisela was waiting for you near the entrance, her ever-poised demeanor slightly off-kilter as she scanned the crowd. When her eyes landed on you, a flicker of something—relief? Concern?—crossed her face, and she hurried over.

“There you are,” she said, taking your hand as though to steady you. Her tone carried an edge of urgency, and you could tell she was gearing up to say something important. “I’m glad you came. But listen, before you go inside, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Her voice lowered conspiratorially as she leaned closer. “Sigtryggr… he’s here. And he brought someone. A girlfriend, apparently.” Her words were careful, but her gaze flickered with unease, clearly gauging your reaction.

You raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement rising in you. “That’s fine, Gisela,” you said, squeezing her hand lightly. “Sigtryggr and I… we weren’t meant to be. I’m happy for him.”

She blinked, slightly taken aback by your calm response, but pressed on. “Well, I thought you should know. But I also have someone I want you to meet.” Her voice brightened slightly, as though trying to distract you from the potential awkwardness waiting inside.

You tilted your head, an affectionate smile creeping onto your face. “Actually, Gisela, I have someone I want you to meet first.”

Before Gisela could respond, Sihtric stepped forward from behind you. He wasn’t dressed to blend into the crowd of sharply tailored suits and polished shoes that filled the gallery, yet somehow, he looked effortlessly striking. 

A dark, fitted leather jacket hung perfectly over his broad shoulders, paired with a simple, black t-shirt that clung to his lean, muscular frame. Fitted jeans and scuffed boots completed the look, adding a touch of ruggedness that made him stand out in all the right ways.

His dark hair was neatly tied back, but a few rogue strands fell across his sharp cheekbones, softening the intensity of his piercing eyes. He looked effortlessly cool, the kind of man who drew attention without even trying, and the subtle smirk on his lips only added to the effect.

Sihtric slipped his hand into yours, your fingers intertwining, and the look on Gisela’s face was priceless. She was frozen, her gaze locking on him as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her usual poise faltered, and for the first time, she seemed genuinely at a loss for words. Her eyes flicked between you and Sihtric, wide with shock, her mouth opening and closing slightly as though searching for something—anything—to say.

“Sihtric,” you said warmly, your voice filled with affection as you glanced up at him. He responded by slipping his arm around your waist, his hand resting at the small of your back.

Gisela finally found her voice, though it was a touch higher-pitched than usual. “I… didn’t realize…” she stammered, her gaze darting to you as if silently questioning how, when, and why this had happened.

You cut her off with a gentle but firm nudge to the side, brushing past her with a smile. “Gisela, we’ll catch up later. Right now, there are a few people we’d like to say hello to.”

Sihtric’s arms wrapped securely around you as you walked into the exhibition together, his warmth grounding you. You caught sight of Sigtryggr and Stiorra in the center of the gallery, standing close, their heads tilted toward each other as they shared a quiet laugh. Whatever lingering awkwardness might have existed between you and Sigtryggr seemed to dissolve as you approached, Sihtric at your side.

“Sigtryggr,” you greeted warmly, your smile genuine. “It’s good to see you.”

Sigtryggr turned, his expression flickering with brief surprise before softening into a polite smile. “And you,” he replied, his gaze briefly darting to Sihtric before settling back on you. “I see you’ve… moved on as well.”

“Seems like we’ve both found where we’re meant to be,” you replied, your tone light, though the weight of those words resonated deeply within you.

Stiorra raised her glass with a mischievous grin. “Well, well. Isn’t this a picture-perfect reunion?” she quipped, her tone teasing but kind.

Sihtric’s arm tightened around your waist as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “A reunion, maybe,” he murmured just for you, his voice warm and low. “But what matters is where we go from here.”

And as you stood there, surrounded by art, by people who had once been tangled in your past, you couldn’t help but smile as for the first time in a long while, the future felt beautifully, wonderfully yours.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

okay i'm back IMAGINE that before she knows Bruce is Batman, she comes across Batman in an alley on her way home from work

She approaches him the way you'd approach a stray dog

He is injured, he's probably concussed, and she can see a gash in his suit where blood is making the kevlar shine in the grimmest way

She holds her hands up, freezing as Batman begins to push himself up--"Hang on--Wait, I'm sorry, just..." She begins to fish into her purse, and Bruce only hesitates because he knows that she doesn't mean him any harm

She draws out an antibacterial spray, and wound closure strips. She holds them up for him to see.

And Bruce hesitates--but he knows that he's in a bad way. He gives a small nod. She comes closer with that same slow, measured pace, kneeling beside him. He grits his jaw through the pain as she carefully cleans the wound, then works around the kevlar to dress the wound.

"This is just a temporary fix," She warns. "You'll need to get it seen to properly." Her eyes dart to him as he gives a small nod. Her lips twitch with a small smile. "Not much of a talker, are you."

A pause. Then, "I don't usually need to be."

"You gonna be okay getting back wherever you're going?"

"Are you offering to escort me?"

"I'll have you know that this antibacterial spray is very unpleasant if it gets in someone's eye."

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"Alright." She straightens up and glances toward the mouth of the alley. "Wherever you're going, get back in one piece, okay? People need you out there."

"I could say the same of you."

The next time Bruce sees her, she doesn't mention her little run-in with the caped crusader, and he doesn't mention the bandaged gash under his jacket sleeve.

Bruce Wayne dating an ER doctor tho

- They meet at a Wayne Enterpise gala, where she's the guest of honor, speaking about her experience as a recipient of the Thomas Wayne Scholarship (which put her through medical school)

- Bruce being absolutely fascinated once he's able to speak with her personally, hanging on her every word

- The party basically closing down around them until they're two of the last people in the penthouse, besides the clean-up crew

- Bruce getting her number, trying to make plans a time or two, but her schedule is nuts, and evenings are weird for both of them

- For very, very different reasons, of course

- So Bruce turns up at the ER during one of her shifts, complaining about elbow pain (the lamest, non-life threatening excuse he could think of)

- (He says he whacked it when he was spelunking)

- Cue one very flirty assessment that leads to Bruce insisting on buying you a cup of coffee as thanks for checking him out

- The two finally get around to getting dinner and are both so utterly enamored

- (And you just know that when she does eventually find out that he's Batman, those late-night patch-up situations are special)

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 17

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Scar's pov*

Poultryman leaves quickly but you can't help but keep feeling suspicious. Nothing concrete and his explanation does make sense but you can't help but feel that It was weird for him to just be there like that...

He said he heard of it but ... How did he do so quickly? And why was he just standing there...menacingly?

You don't get the time to think about it further and quickly forget about it as Cub messages you, the hero association wants to talk to you for some reason and that means something is wrong...

...You are a bit worried.

...

You uh... don't really know what to do, your fight and flight is going off in a way only a council of business people can make it go off.

The council is staring at you, you thought they wanted to tell you something not look at you with... judgement in their eyes for like ten minutes straight.

You try to break the tension by initiating the conversation yourself.

"H-hello?"

...

"You wanted to speak with me?"

They are still silent? Did you say something wrong? You literally just said hi-

"Indeed, a decision has been talen that we believe you should be informed of."

Ok, not silent anymore, that's good... Wait decision? They aren't demoting you or something, right?

"Did something happen?"

They look to eachother...ok...even more worrying. It's fine everything is fine, you are totally calm and chill and not anxious at all.

"No, but something will."

"O-ok?"

Points for being ominous for no reason.

"Hotguy, you cannot continue to work alone. The stakes are growing, it is becoming too dangerous.."

"Oh!"

Oh! Are they making a hero team? You always wanted one of those-

"We are not going to waste heroes on a team"

And just like that your hopes are dashed and crushed. Why are you still here...just to suffer?

"But then-"

"Hotguy, how would you feel about a sidekick?"

A... Sidekick? You don't know how to feel, superheroes are supposed to have them though so It must be a good idea!...Wait.

"W-who's going to be my sidekick? You said you weren't going to waste heroes."

"That has not yet bern decided, we plan to start an hiring process of sorts soon.""

Hiring? What's this? An office job?"

"Do not question us, Hotguy. It is thanks to us you are even here to begin with"

"Right! I am sorry."

"... This is where you come in"

"Huh?"

"A sidekick should not only be capable but should also work well with the hero, you'll have to be the final judge of character "

"Oh that makes sense... So I'll interview the candidates?"

"Not directly, we cannot risk that, you'll just have to prepare some questions for them to answer"

"Oh... Alright! I'll do it"

*Mumbo's pov*

You are in your apartment, Grian is off... somewhere. You have stopped questioning him around the time you walked on him peeling grapes ... You just hope he doesn't randomly die or something, that would be quite unfortunate.

You turn on the tv, not something you do often but it's a good way to pass the time when you aren't working on something which is thinking about it...very rarely. Surely today has been uneventful.

The mayor was kidnapping by his own office and Hotguy is randomly hiring a sidekick.

What in the world has happened today??

*Grian's pov*

So Hotguy is searching for a sidekick, what interesting timing.

Well, you cannot waste this opportunity to have fun, can you.

You prepare an outfit, you even have a perfect name for this.

Cuteguy.

...

You might have too many personas now... nah.

End of Chapter 4

[ssentimentals]

hi! sorry for asking for a prompt that was claimed 😅 could i try mingyu with hurt prompt 29? thank youu <3 (if this also ends up taken then 18 works too hahaha)

hi dear, no worries!! sure, let's go with 29 :) thank you for requesting! 💜 hopefully you will like it!

hurt prompt: 'sorry doesn't fix everything.'

the weird thing is - you don't know what you want. that's why it's hard to sit in front of mingyu right now, who looks at you and waits for the answers that you're incapable of giving. did he apologize? yes, many times. do you feel better after that? no, not at all. and it's frustrating for you too, because apologies supposed to work as a make up technique, but you can't force yourself to lie about it - you are not okay and mingyu's apologies are not enough.

'i don't know what else do you want me to do,' mingyu confesses in a quiet voice. cafe is crowded but you still hear him clearly, sitting too far from where you'd usually sit next to him. 'i already said that it won't happen again. i apologized many times.'

'sorry doesn't fix everything,' you bit out in a sharper tone than you wanted.

mingyu nods. 'okay. if sorry doesn't fix it, then what can? what can i do?'

and that's a million dollar question, because you have no answer. you have no idea what you want from mingyu, but apologies just don't cut it. and yes, you're happy that he is willing to work on it, but him waiting for your guidelines doesn't sit well with you, it only serves to annoy you more. all you know for sure is that you are still angry and hurt and seeing mingyu only makes it worse. 'i need time,' you end up blurting out. 'i think.'

'how much time?' mingyu asks, frowning. 'time for what exactly? are we- is this us taking a time out?'

mingyu looks confused and a bit panicked and you don't feel even a pang of sympathy. and that is very telling. 'i don't know how much time, mingyu. all i know is that i don't want to see you at all.'

for a second it looked like mingyu is about to argue or put up a fight, but then... you don't know what he saw in your eyes. maybe he saw exhaustion creeping in the corners. maybe he saw sadness, maybe he saw how helpless you feel. whatever it is, he ends up nodding and standing. 'i'll pay,' he says tightly. 'and i'll go first. i heard you loud and clear and-' he inhales, frowning. 'just let me know when you'll be up to talk, i guess.'

you want to laugh at the absurdity of this, but mingyu is gone before you can even open your mouth. it is sad but it also isn't; what you feel most is calmness on taking the right decision for yourself. you stare at the forgotten hat from him and choose to stand up and leave before he can come back here and get it back. what's lost is lost, you guess.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini