#once again battling two wolves

[skibasyndrome]

.

[miauwenn]

EPIC RAP BATTLES OF HISTORY

[entitled-fangirl]

Warrior.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan and the reader spend the day with their children.

A/n: based on an ask! Also, the next wip is Luck P3! My goal is to get it out by late tonight!

Masterlist

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She rested a hand on her swollen stomach as she moved down the hall. 

An unusual crease in her brow.

"Where is my husband?" She asked a servant as they passed.

"Outdoors, my lady. The courtyard was the last place I saw him."

She nodded, moving further down the corridor.

…

He was indeed where the servant had said.

He stood with a wooden sword in hand, easily blocking the blows from the children who dared to swing their own swords at him.

Their two babes.

Rickon and Alys.

She smiled as she neared them, watching as they tried their hardest to best their father. 

Cregan turned his head at the sound of her nearing, lowering his sword with a smile.

Rickon swung his sword into Cregan's shin, making him let out a small growl.

That anger vanished as quickly as it had come. 

"You're training warriors out here, my love?" She asked.

He brought her into his arms, kissing the top of her head, "Ah, yes. I do believe we'll have the strongest swordsmen in the realm at this rate."

Rickon ran to her, hugging her leg.

"I swear, Stark, you'd start training them out of the womb if you could."

He grinned, "Perhaps I'll try with this next one."

She moved to bend down to Rickon, but Cregan quickly scooped the boy up to keep her from exerting herself.

"Only three and you're already a better swordsman that I am, isn't that right, my boy?"

Rickon nodded with a grin at his father.

She leaned forward, placing a kiss to the boy's cheek. He grimaced and wiped it off.

Cregan grinned, "Don't wipe that off. That's something to treasure."

Rickon looked between his two parents unsure.

Cregan continued, "A lady's kiss is good luck. It's a blessing of sorts. You don't want to wipe it off, boy." He turned to his wife, "I'll show you."

She smiled and leaned to her husband, holding his face with one hand and kissing his cheek on the other side. Cregan closed his eyes at the feeling. 

He looked back at his son, "Now, I'll win every battle I come across as long as I have it."

Rickon gawked, "Really?"

He grinned, "Truly. Now," he set the boy to the ground, "Perhaps you should go best your sister."

The boy ran off to his sister who swung at a practice dummy. 

Cregan turned back to his wife, bringing her to him once again, this time landing a soft kiss to her lips.

"You're giving him false hope by doing that," she stated.

"How so?" 

"He'll truly believe it."

Cregan placed a hand over her swollen stomach. "Oh, no. He'll believe he should respect women and fight for them on the battlefield!" He gave her a mocking smile, "How horrid am I of a father?"

"Cregan!" She laughed, "I mean it!"

"Starks are strong wolves. He'll manage, I'm sure."

She sighed and leaned into him, "Fine, but I won't be comforting him when he loses."

He laughed, "Yes, you will."

"I know I will."

About then, a small cry came from the two children. 

Alys sat in the dirt, her wooden sword long forgotten as she held her arm.

Rickon ran to the pair, "You're right! I did it! I did it!"

The two parents looked at one another silently before moving to their stations. 

Y/n knelt down to Rickon, "You've won?"

He nodded, "I bested her with your blessing!"

She pulled the sword from the boy's hand, "Rickon, tell me. Which do you believe would win a spar? Your papa or your mama?"

He answered almost immediately, "You would."

She grinned, "And why do you think that is?"

"Papa wouldn't fight you. He doesn't want to hurt you."

She nodded, "Exactly. So now tell me, do you believe you did right by beating your sister?"

Cregan moved to the girl, kneeling down and scooping her to him, "Does it hurt?"

Alys nodded.

"Let me see then."

A nasty bruise was beginning to form on her bicep.

Cregan let out a breath, "A worthy hurt, I'd wager."

"It's not fair!" She cried, "He didn't fight like a gentleman. He was breaking the rules!"

Cregan smiled, "He is only three, Alys. You're almost six now."

"But he just swings it about until it hits something!"

"I know, my girl. It'll hurt for a few days, but it'll pass. Like all injuries do."

Alys frowned, "You don't get hurt. Do you, Papa?"

Cregan let out a small sigh, "I do. Quite often. Injuries only happen to the best warriors, you know."

"Really?"

"Oh yes." He grinned with his next words, "And the best part? The best warriors also get up and dust themselves off when they wish to give up the most."

She scoffed, "Why would they do that?"

Cregan shrugged, "I dunno. Why do you think they do that?"

She thought for a while, "Because they fight for a reason?"

He smiled and kissed her forehead, "Smart girl. Now," he pulled her up to stand. "We're warriors, aren't we?"

She nodded.

"Then let's get up now, dust ourselves off, yeah?"

Y/n watched with Rickon in her arms as Alys hugged her father.

…

"Are they sleeping well?" He asked as she entered their chambers.

"Like the dead," she sighed. 

He grinned, "Then we've done well, my love. C'mere."

He pulled her into a sweet kiss.

"I've been thinking," she started.

He pulled away with a furrowed brow.

"What if the next one does not wish to be a warrior?"

Cregan leaned away from her in thought before answering, "I suppose we need writers and priests and artists all the same."

"But it's not the Stark way," she argued.

He grinned and grabbed her by the arms, "I do not care if our children end up as the king's fools. One will take Winterfell, and the rest are free to explore the world as they see fit."

"And what of the one that takes Winterfell?"

"We'll know when they get older. One of them will treasure it, I'm sure. And I will name them my heir. I have a feeling it'll be Alys."

"And what if Alys wishes to retire her sword at age six and be a proper lady?"

He let out a light laugh, "Then she shall be a most formidable lady, but I will respect it nonetheless."

She hugged him as well as she could with her swollen stomach. 

"The Stark way isn't given as is, it's created by generation. Our grandchildren could change the Stark name entirely for all we know."

She grimaced, "I hope they don't."

"No?" He grinned. 

"I hope it stays firm. Colder than the Wall."

He chuckled, "Then you must let me train this next one from the womb."

She playfully hit his chest with a laugh.

"I'll have them winning tournaments at eight, I promise you!"

She shook her head with a smile, "You have them winning tournaments, and I'll have your head."

He grins, "Whatever my lady wishes."

She rolls her eyes, "Take me to bed, Stark."

He kisses her cheek, "With pleasure."

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Cregan Stark taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @callsignwidow, @8812-342, @nyxbranwenn

[heliads]

Hi!! I miss your Derek fics so much so how’s one where you and him are in a casual relationship if yk what I mean when all of a sudden there’s a mishap that causes him to pull away and end up ghosting you because he caught feelings and is terrified of them, you still try to get in contact with him but got tired of it and that’s when Derek comes back basically begging for a chance to fix it🥺

masterlist

Derek Hale knows he’s gone too far because he’s no longer nervous waking up to hear someone else’s heartbeat next to him. Derek stays alone, always; it saves him the trouble of having to think about saving someone other than himself if he ever wakes up to another roaring inferno. Derek is good at being alone. It’s never something he’s struggled with, even as a lone wolf without a pack. He still talks to other people on occasion. It’s fine.

He’d thought it was fine. Derek had almost gotten to the point of convincing himself of it, and then he started making mistakes like entertaining himself with someone else, and by the time it occurred to him that he was long past the point of no return, there was no way he could ever end it. So he lives with it, it’s fine. Until it isn’t.

Derek Hale has never been the type to get caught up over a girl. He did it once, then swore it would never happen again. There is the idea of Derek, the lone wolf; Derek, the man with a heart colder than ice. He wouldn’t go so far as to describe himself as a womanizer, but he’s dated not one but two of the women who’ve tried to kill him and the other wolves in town, so maybe he should start thinking about raising his standards.

He did, though. That was the problem. Of all the people in this world, good and bad and outright bloodthirsty, Derek found the one woman capable of waltzing right past his best defenses and laying claim to the very organ he thought would never be bothered with again. Derek has long since assumed that, so long as it keeps beating on schedule, he’d never think about his heart unless someone was actively ripping it out of his chest, but Y/N changed that. She changed everything.

It was nothing at first. That’s what he promised himself the first time he woke up in an unfamiliar room that definitely wasn’t in his apartment complex. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he picked up on the sound of someone else breathing evenly next to him, but Y/N had woken up not long after him so they’d been able to talk things through. They’d both agreed that it was a one time thing, the result of years of rising tensions against supernaturals in Beacon Hills, and would never happen again.

The second time, Derek was no less taken aback, but a little more disappointed in himself. Usually, when he makes his word, he sticks to it for longer than a month. He’d left before she woke up that time. Didn’t stop him from crawling back, though. He can blame it on the alcohol that doesn’t affect him, the battle rush of adrenaline he’s long since learned to master. Excuses are easy. Falling is easier still.

Derek doesn’t fall, though. He won’t. Even if it kills him. Especially if it kills him. Derek can lock himself up and cut away his heart and distrust his mind until any conceivable feeling dies off from lack of oxygen. It wouldn’t be the first time. Somehow, he doubts it’ll be the last.

This is all well and good, but it doesn’t work as well as it should. Even now, blinking the last of the past night’s sleep from his eyes, Derek sits up slowly in his own bed, and the sight of Y/N there next to him isn’t surprising. Not at all. His internal alarm system stopped going off around her a long time ago. Hell, he gets more uneasy the longer he goes without seeing her instead of the other way around.

A year ago, he would have called that a mistake. Hales survive because they trust only each other. Y/N may be an ally in this eternally war-torn town, but that does not make her someone he can afford to keep around. Still, when he carefully lifts himself out of bed to avoid waking her, when she comes out of the room about half an hour later in one of his shirts, when Derek can’t quite tell where her perfume ends and his cologne begins, he wonders to himself if he hasn’t already crossed that line a very long time ago.

It doesn’t matter. None of this is real. He doesn’t make her breakfast, she doesn’t say goodbye. They just go about their lives as if the past night had never happened at all, as if none of the nights before that, all stretching out in one vast line of pale, bedsheet-white dominoes do not exist between them. You cannot topple what you do not see, and Derek’s eyes are snapped shut tight.

He’s started noticing things, though, against his better judgment. The furrows in Y/N’s brow vanish while she’s asleep, but they appear again when she looks around at her house or his in the morning and remembers something she’ll never tell him. Her shoulders always rise and pinch together right before she leaves without a word. Derek has started making himself scarce whenever she wakes up. It’s better for both of them if there’s no opportunity to stay any longer.

Most of all, Derek takes care to ensure that whatever happens at night does not affect either of them during the day. Y/N’s more closely allied with the McCall pack than whatever dregs are left of Derek’s ill-gotten attempt to seize power with his own batch of betas, but he still sees her often enough on wolf business. Derek has no doubt that Scott has caught on to the fact that they’re seeing each other, but neither of them will bring it up so long as it doesn’t become a problem.

A couple of times, Derek has felt Scott’s eyes on him like an accusation, burning holes into his shoulders whenever Y/N shows up late or seems listless during the discussions. Derek wants to throw up his hands and declare to anyone who cares to listen or blame him that he’s doing his best to make sure he isn’t the cause, but he doubts any of the younger pack members want to know that he’s specifically trimming off any stem of feeling before it takes root. He’s doing his best, at least. Surely that counts for something.

Still, he can feel their judgment like a plague, even outside of passing glimpses. When Scott McCall shows up at Derek’s door to ask for his help with a sudden hunter shootout at the hospital, Derek can still see the awareness in the back of the kid’s eyes. Y/N’s got her own thing going, Derek wants to clarify, she’s long past school-crush days just like him. They’re both adults and they can do what they please. High school sweethearts all die by hunters’ arrows. The ones who survive don’t play by the rules.

Scott will never bring it up, though, so Derek won’t, either. Instead, he just accompanies Scott to the hospital, where he slashes and stabs at anyone who tries to shoot at him. These sorts of things are becoming normal occurrences by now; Melissa McCall and the other doctors are probably sick of it, but what can you do?

Derek’s only half paying attention. He focuses enough to keep himself alive, but it’s easy to go on autopilot. The hunters will always attack, and they will always defend. Some will get hurt. They’ll heal in time to start the game over again. Nothing new.

It should be nothing new. It is, until Derek rounds a corner and he sees one of the hunters shooting at Y/N’s back. She’s distracted taking out someone else. She won’t react in time, Derek knows it, he can feel it in his bones like a bad frost, and Derek– he actually screams, a guttural shout of despair, and he hurls himself at the hunter. The gun goes flying out of the guy’s hands and into a corner of the room, blood spatters following it a second later. It’s alright again. Y/N is fine.

Y/N, actually, is staring at him in confusion. “What was that about?” She asks slowly.

Derek catches a hazy glimpse of himself in the glass panel of a nearby door and realizes that he looks mad. His eyes are wide, startled, glowing; his claws are out and dripping with gore. “He was going to shoot you,” he says, a little unsteadily, “You weren’t paying attention.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I was, Derek. His gun was empty. No more bullets left, I heard the empty barrel click a minute ago.”

Derek stares at her uncomprehendingly, and Y/N has to cross the room, pick up the fallen hunter’s weapon, and pull the trigger several times until Derek understands. She was right, no ammunition was shot. It was a complete misfire on his end, and something that he should have picked up on far before he decided to strike. If Y/N could hear that the gun was empty from across the room, Derek should have known it from where he stood.

He knows what this means, then. It means he’s making mistakes, and mistakes get you killed. They get everyone killed. Derek hasn’t made a mistake like this in a long time, because he never let anyone in, but he has now, hasn’t he? He’s known it for a long time. Y/N means far more to him than a prolonged one night stand. He has feelings for her, of a depth he couldn’t decipher if given a thousand years trapped inside his own head. Derek Hale has fallen in love, but this love will destroy him. It will make him weak.

And, fuck, Derek knows how this is going to end. How it always ends. He is a fire, consuming everything in his path; burning down his family home; choking the last breath from the lungs of anyone foolish enough to love him. If Y/N realizes that he loves her, if she does something so terrible as to love him back, she will fall before the year is out. They always do, and it will be his fault again, his fault like it was for all the others.

He moves before he knows what he’s doing. Y/N is calling after him, he thinks, but Derek is already rounding the corner and out of the hallway. Hunters in his path are killed by a wolf that might be Derek, if Derek was aware enough of what he was doing to act on anything more than animal instinct. Instead, he just keeps going like a bloodsoaked robot until Scott tells him it’s over, and then he leaves. He does not check in with the rest of the pack. He does not check in with Y/N.

In fact, he does not speak with her again. She tries texting him afterwards to see if he’s alright, and then even shows up at his door when he’s unresponsive for days, but Derek just waits silently in the confines of his apartment until she goes away. She can probably hear his heartbeat, but it doesn’t matter. This will benefit both of them. Neither Derek nor Y/N can afford an attachment like this. He’s already started slipping up in the heat of battle. Who knows what sort of deadly error he will commit next?

If he thought the McCall pack’s judgment was bad enough before, they’re downright diabolical now. He can’t speak to them without being on the receiving end of a thousand hateful stares. Every time he so much as crosses their path, you’d think he murdered their entire family. It’s unreal. Don’t they know he’s doing this for the best? 

It’s not like Derek enjoys this, anyway. It’s unnatural. He’s started waking up at odd hours of the night, reaching out for someone who isn’t there. Derek rises with the sun and stares at the empty other half of the bed. He starts to get up quietly and then remembers that there’s no one around who’s still sleeping, so he can be as loud as he pleases. It feels wrong when the floor creaks.

He’s started creeping closer to the door whenever Y/N stops by. He hovers right by the threshold, listening; he can tell by the inflections of her voice that she’s starting to give up hope, and then she stops coming. When a week goes by without a single word from her, Derek thinks that he should be pleased because he’s finally saved her from himself, but instead, all he feels is alone.

It’s not a good feeling, this. Derek thought he would be able to shake off any and all feelings for her in a matter of weeks, but even a month later, he’s still in a terrible state. Lydia starts taking pity on him, he thinks, and actually treats him like a normal human being again, which kind of makes it all worse. He doesn’t want her compassion. He wants–

He wants Y/N. Waking up alone again, hands curling into fists around empty sheets, Derek realizes the earth-shattering truth as if from a dream. He wants her. He wants her more than anything. If this is safety, Derek doesn’t want it. He hates not knowing if she’s alright. He hates thinking that he might have hurt her. If this is the cost of keeping them both alive, Derek would rather be dead.

He throws on his clothes, headed towards the door in a flash. He wakes up early, always has; if he can just get over to her place before she leaves to go to work, maybe it would be okay– maybe she would still want him– maybe he would be enough, now that he knows without a shadow of a doubt that she is for him–

Y/N doesn’t open her door at first, which is, admittedly, justified. Derek’s cheeks flush with shame remembering all the times he’d pointedly ignored her visits. However, she’s better than him, always has been, and opens the door eventually. He looks at her, breathes out at last, and says– “I miss you.”

Y/N arches a brow. “You do?”

“I do,” Derek repeats, “And I’ve been– stupid, really, and I shouldn’t have been. I know better than that.”

Y/N folds her arms across her chest. “What made you change your mind?”

“I realized I love you,” Derek says. It’s only five words, but it makes Y/N sway as if she’s been shot.

“You’re just saying that,” she whispers faintly.

Derek shakes her head. “I’m not the type to throw those words around. You know that. You know me better than anyone, Y/N. Tell me if I’m lying.”

He waits. She stares at him, but at last she nods slowly, and says, “You love me?”

“I love you,” he affirms. Then: “Can I come in?”

A ghost of a smile haunts her lips. “Always so forward, aren’t you?”

He laughs a little, actually. It surprises both of them, Derek the most. “I thought you liked that about me.”

“I do,” she admits, and steps aside to let him pass. Derek lingers by her side, he can’t help it. Moments like these were meant to be treasured. He may have messed up too many of them to count, but for once, Derek can start again. He intends to make the most of it.

teen wolf tag list: @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[chloe-skywalker]

Propersituations - Robb Stark

Part 1

(1/2)

Rob x fem!reader Targaryen

Warnings: GOT

Word count: 810

Summary: Y/n and her sister Daenerys have decided to possibly help Robb Stark with his war. But will he accept the terms?

Authors Note: I really love this concept and will probably do more like it in the future.

Masterlist

Game Of Thrones Masterlist

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Taking another piece of land from the Lannister army wasn’t easy. Espeacially when Robb found himself on his back with a sword coming down towards his chest, ready to impale him.

When suddenly out of the blue a sword stuck out of the soldiers chest. As he fell Robb stood up and noticed his savior was a woman on horseback. He gave her a nodd of appreciation and she returned it. After the exchange the two continued to keep fighting.

Once the battle was over and the North had taken more territory Robb looked around searching for the woman that had saved his life.

Upon spotting her he noticed that she was actually heading his way on her horse. Once she was infront of him Robb nodded in thanks from earlier. “Thanks. I owe you my life.”

The woman smiled down at him. “Just win the War young wolve.”

“Who are you?” He asked stunned by the woman infront of him. She saved his life and she was stunning in her beauty. Why was this gorgeous woman on the battle field.

“Y/n. Y/n Targaryen.” Y/n spoke as she got off her horse. That’s when Robb noticed the small baby dragon on her shoulder.

“Targaryen?” Robb questioned shocked at hearing the name that was thought to have been extincted till as of late. The hair and dragon were shocking factors as well.

“Yes.” She nodded in confirmation, as she got off her horse gracefully. She was sure her name in Westeros was mind blowing.

“Explains the hair.” He joked with a friendly smile.

“And your a Stark. Explains the Direwolf.” Y/n teased back smiling at his nice break of the ice and lighten the mood. The way she smiled towards Greywind told Robb she truly wasn’t afraid of the Direwolf. But then again she had a dragon, why would she be afraid.

“I’ve heard of your sister. And you.” Robb said as the both of them walked throng the once battle field.

“Most have.” She commented looking around at all the remains. Most seemed to be lannister army whihc was good for the North she thought.

“Why’d you save me?” Robb asked her stopping the both of them from walking. He knew she wasn’t there when the fight had started. She must of shown up in the middle of it and decided to help out. It seemed to him that she had brought some men of her own with her. So was her intent to come and help? Why was she here? Last he heard her and her sister were across the sea.

“I’d like to help you win. Become King of the North.” Y/n told him flat out her reasons. Y/n had heard of what was going on in Westeros where her and her sister were. She wanted to help.

“In exchange for?” Robb knew that couldn’t be it. There had to be a motive, something her and her sister would get in exchange.

“Smart of you to assume there’s a catch young King.” She smiled proudly at his quick mind. “My sister wants to take her rightful spot on the Iron Throne. I hear you don’t want it. So. My propersituation is you stay King of the North, but under my sister Daenerys.”

Robb listened ti her propersituation and it wasn’t a bad one he’d admit. But what else besides the North would he get out of this?

“An what do I get out of this besides the North?” he questioned curious to know it there’s more.

“We help you wim. We have the numbers.” y/n told him clasping her hand together infront of her. She could tell he was skeptical and she would be to.

“How do I know you and your sister won’t turn on me and mine?” Robb narrowed his eye’s watching her carefully to see if her body language would give anything away. But she seemed completely open and honest.

“We don’t break our promises to people but if you wish to have a more solid agreement. What do you propose?” She offered this opening to bring trust between them. If he came up with a reasonable thing to add for this to work then Y/n could hopefully make it work.

Even thought it was Robbs idea to add something for a better, stronger Alliance, but he didn’t have anything off the top of his head. “How about you stay with us for awhile and we can discuss it?”

Y/n smiled giving him a nod of thanks and respect. He’d rather think of a good agreement then something on the spot. “I’d be honored.”

Robb nodded back with a matching smile. “The honors all mine.”

This way they could come up with something together that they both agree upon and he could get to know her.

Taglist: @gruffle1 @padawancat97 @misspendragonsworld

@starkleila

[geekgirles]

I could be reading this all wrong and only seeing what I want to see, but if I'm right and you think about it, Aurora's actions in this chapter seem to be meant to further confirm that she never fled because Armand told her to and, more glaringly, she never cared about the Sadida beyond using them to enable her own ascension to power.

When she returned in chapter 3 and Yugo and Amalia called her and her father out on fleeing and abandoning them against the Nécromes, Aurora claimed she was just carrying out Armand's will, which was to protect their unborn child. She even went as far as trying to paint Amalia in a bad light due to "not knowing the joy of carrying a child", implying Amalia couldn't possibly know what it's like to put your child first, not-so-subtly calling her selfish.

This all coming from the same woman who is now going against her father's admittedly reasonable orders in the face of a furious Amalia looming over them.

Now, as much as I'd like to say Amalia wouldn't have touched her hadn't Aurora taken flight with the intention of fighting her in the first place, the truth is it's hard to tell Amalia's true reasons behind going after the Osamodas. Maybe she just wanted to berate and kick them out of her kingdom for poisoning Yugo but her emotional state was reflected by her vines, giving her a more dangerous, unhinged look. Or maybe she truly intended to use violence against them and she is partly to blame.

Whatever the case, it doesn't change the fact that Aurora has once again revealed her true colours: she's chosen to fight Amalia, even while pregnant, even though she refused to do so to aid and lead the Sadida in battle.

This all reads as her entire personality being nothing but two-faced, hypocritical, and self-serving, with no concern or care for anyone but herself. Not her husband's people, not her husband's family, not her husband, not even their child.

Because this time she doesn't even have the excuse of trying to protect her child, that's actually what her father was trying to do. No, she willingly and knowingly put her child in danger by ignoring her father's warnings—why am I not surprised that one (1) time she doesn't blindly listen to her father is the one time she honestly should have?— and engaging Amalia.

What's more, her motives for forsaking her child's safety after painting herself as the widowed martyr, burdened by the responsibility of motherhood, are purely egotistical.

As the above frames show, she's not even trying to defend herself and the child from Amalia's wrath (again, that's her father), rather, her actions are motivated by her pride, ego, and seething hatred of her sister-in-law. There's no moral high ground, no motherly love, no protective instintcs, nothing!

All there's left is the all-consuming desire to get rid of Amalia once and for all. Her hatred of her overrides all reason, which is probably part of the reason why her father came with her to the kingdom to reclaim the throne in the first place: because Aurora is both too unstable and impulsive to be trusted with such responsibility. The Osamodas King is essentially keeping her in check because she can't be trusted to be left to her own devices without messing it all up.

And this all ties back to her actions in season 4, which, combined with the webtoon, highlight her sheer hypocrisy. She claimed she only ran away because she was protecting her child, so she should be forgiven for throwing an entire kingdom and possibly the whole world to the wolves in order to save her own skin, but suddenly there's nothing wrong with fighting a very pissed off Sadida Queen (one of the most powerful Sadidas around after Sadida Himself and His dolls and the one she just so happens to have a personal vendetta against) while pregnant.

She didn't leave the kingdom because Armand told her to, she did so out of her own volition. Just like nothing she's doing is for her child, but for herself. She's no mother, let alone a queen, but an unstable, entitled brat.

[last-herondale]

Always In Front of Me

Jacob Black x FemReader

T/w: Mentions of blood, violence, death

Hurt/comfort, fated lovers

A/N: heyo! A few people have asked for a perspective from Jacob’s point of view from my wintered series! This is after Honesty and before Wintered!

Expect at least 2 more fics for this series in the future 💙

I’ll link the master list here!

Enjoy 🤘🏼

Jacob sat at your beside, watching the even motion of your chest rising and falling. The two of you were in one of the Cullen’s rooms. Jacob wasn’t sure whose, maybe Alice, maybe Jasper? No definitely Alice. She had insisted after… Jacob shook his head at the memory. He looked over you, making sure you were alright, to see if there was anything he could possibly do. He had been there for days on end, refusing to leave your side as you recovered.

Months earlier you had done the same for him after the battle with Victoria’s newborn army. Jacob remembered how you accepted the role as his gentle nurse, aiding him as he healed from his wounds. How minor his injuries seemed now. He winced as he looked at your neck brace— the bluish bruises under your eyes. The sight of you made his stomach churn. How could he have been so blind? How could he have not known until that night?

~

The world seemed to be moving in slow motion. So much chaos had ensued in such a short amount of time that Jacob wasn’t entirely sure what was real anymore.

Bella had gone into labor. He witnessed her body jerk and contort, breaking and snapping with haunting echos as the creature inside her yearned to be free. The Cullens had sprung to action, or at least those that had remained. A plan had been devised to allow some of the Cullens to break through Sam’s patrol so that they could feed, and get more blood for Bella.

Seth, Leah, and You had agreed to help with the plan. Jacob had distracted Sam’s pack long enough to allow the Cullens to escape, and for a moment you all thought you had won a victory. The Cullens could feed, Bella would be safe, and no one would have to die.

But then all hell broke loose. While The Cullens rushed to save Bella, Sam’s pack decided to launch their attack. You had sounded the alarm to Jacob, ripping out a guttural howl into the night sky. Leah and Seth had already sprung into action, blurs of fur clashing into the night. Alice and Jasper joined the fight as well, battling the wolves that were once their allies.

Jacob’s mind had been a jumbled mess. His fear for Bella tore his heart in one direction, but his worry for his family tore him in the other. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared in horror as Edward pulled the baby from Bella. The smell of blood burned in Jacob’s nostrils as he watched his best friend lie lifeless on the table. His head was ringing. He couldn’t register Edwards words as he began to preform CPR on Bella. Jacob felt his legs move him on his own accord, as his body left the room in a tranced state.

Bella was dead. He had expected it. Tried to mentally prepare for it, but now that it was here… his chest felt empty. What was all of this pain for? Why did Jacob love Bella if he knew it would always end in death? Was this how love was supposed to be? Constant pain? Unending torture?

Jacob collapsed outside of the Cullen’s house and began to sob. The battle raged on around him, his pack and the Cullens fighting Sam’s pack. You were grappling with Embry and Quill, keeping them from reaching the house while Leah and Seth were out of sight. Jacob looked at the scene before him as his body broke out in heaved sobs. You heard his anguished cries and felt your soul tug. The desperate need to be there for him roared in your mind as you fought.

The imprint bond, the tether that seemed to shape your heart sang out within your blood. You felt a surge of strength return to your body as you flung Quill against a tree, hearing a whimper escape his wolf form. Embry lunged at you again, but you were able to sidestep him and sink your teeth into the back of his leg. Once he too fell, you spun around to Jacob. Guilt flashed through your mind for a moment, these were your friends— your brothers after all. As much as it pained you to admit it though, Jacob came first. Always.

The brokenness of his face told you all you needed to know. Bella was dead.

Your heart ached with the thought of your friend. Bella had been a kind soul. The kind of person you only encountered once in a lifetime. You knew the likelihood of her passing, but you held our hope for her. Maybe there would be time for the Cullens to change her. Maybe she would make it after all. You always held hope, not just for her, but for Jacob as well. You dreaded this day. The day Jacob’s heart would shatter beyond repair.

You began to sprint towards Jacob, to protect him from the battle as he sat there out in the open, but you heard a scream to the right of you. Paul had Alice pinned underneath him. The small vampire had her hands gripped on either side of Paul’s jaw to keep back his sharp canines. She could have easily beaten Paul if her strength was up, but she had needed to feed for days now, and you could see the struggle in her eyes.

Perhaps it was stupid to care for a vampire. Everything you were taught went against what your heart told you. Alice was your friend. She seemed no less human to you than Seth or Leah. And she needed help.

Suddenly you were pounding towards Paul. You slammed into him with enough force to knock the wind out of yourself. You snapped at him, gripping a chunk of his fur as the two of you tumbled in the dirt. You saw a pale flash if movement, and hoped it was Alice escaping into the house. Paul seems to support this theory as he let out a horrible snarl. His claws dug into your sides and the pain was enough to cause you to release him. He pinned you down easily enough, his strength had always overmatched yours. You looked into his dark eyes as he plunged his teeth around your neck. The crunch was horrific. You tried to scream, but the wind seemed to leave you as soon as your lips opened. You wanted to say his name, one last time. Your mind glazed over with pain as darkness quickly swept over your consciousness.

~

That was when everything snapped into place. Jacob felt as if his heart was being ripped from his chest as he watched Paul snap your neck. Suddenly, all of the memories of you flooded through his mind, but it was as if a lens had been removed. What had once been simple memories of one of his best friends, now became something unimaginably more important. The first day he met you. Jacob was struck by how beautiful you were, how sweet your voice sounded in his ears. The echo of it now was sweet music. He had been muted to it for so long. The memories of the two of you training together, how you both had leaned on each other for support as you navigated through these difficult changes. You had always been there, he realized. How had he never noticed until now?

Realization struck home, like a blazing sun clearing through the darkness. Jacob felt as if his whole world had shifted back into place. He had been wandering aimlessly in the world, trying so desperately to find his purpose, his meaning within the chaos. He tried to find it in loving Bella. How silly that seemed now. Now it was as if there never was a world where he did not belong to you. Where you did not spark his soul into a million burning fires.

My imprint… my soulmate.

Jacob’s thoughts were scattered and racing through his mind a million miles a second. He didn’t have time to sort through his emotions, all that mattered was you. And you were lying motionless on the ground, your body shifting back into your human form as Paul tossed you aside.

Jacob shifted in an instant and charged Paul. The force of the collision caused the tree they knocked into to snap at the base and crash into the Cullen’s yard. Jacob felt a primal rage course through his body. He dug his teeth into Paul’s shoulder and threw him into another tree. Paul yelped as Jacob went in again, snapping at his arm until a sickening crunch echoed into the night.

Jacob stop!

Seth’s voice echoed through Jacob’s mind, but Jacob did not relinquish. He would make Paul pay for what he did to you. For taking away his chance at happiness before he could even…

Jake, stop! You’re killing him!

Seth begged through his mind. Paul laid limp underneath Jacob, his fur a bloody mess as Jacob continued to thrash him. He was taking it too far, he knew, but he didn’t care.

“She’s alive!”

The voice was real. Not just a telepathic whisper. But a real, high pitched sounding yell. Jacob stopped in his tracks and spun around to see Alice leaning over you as the others watched him in horror. Alice had her head over your heart, listening to the faint beating.

“She’s alive Jacob, please, stop this.”

Jacob took a good look around to see that the chaos had stilled during his rage. The packs looked horrified, Sam especially as he ran to pull Paul away from him. The eerie quiet of the forest chilled Jacob’s back as he hurried himself beside your body. His anger refused to let him shift back into his human form, so he just stood there, watching as Alice carefully picked you up to carry you into the house.

It was Leah that shifted back first, looking at your body then at Jacob in disbelief.

“You imprinted on y/n…” she said. Jacob’s wolf just panted, his eyes locked on Sam and his pack in case they tried to make a break for the house. Leah turned to Sam, his wolf looking at them with fierce uncertainty. Sam couldn’t read Jacob’s thoughts anymore, but Leah could. She recognized what an imprint felt like, knew what kind of bond that was. She knew Sam did too, and in that she saw their salvation.

“Jacob imprinted on y/n!” She yelled loud enough for all of the packs to hear. Sam’s eyes widened at Jacob, and for a moment his resolve finally wavered. Leah took notice and pointed at Sam. “You know our laws, all of you! If you kill her, you kill Jacob. Is this what you want Sam? Your friends— your family dead? Over what? A baby?” It had been the first time Jacob had heard Leah refer to Bella’s baby as such. It was enough to calm Jacob down enough to shift back into his human form.

“It’s true Sam. This has gone on long enough. I don’t want this… but I can’t lose her, please. We have to stop this fighting.”

Sam remained still for a moment as he looked at Jacob’s face. He tried to find the insincerity in Jacob’s voice, his expression, but he found none. It only took one glance at Paul for Sam to realize that only an imprint would cause that sort of violence from Jacob. They might have had their little fights in the past, but this was different. He thought of Emily being attacked and a chill ran down his spine. They were right. Enough was enough.

Sam turned to his pack, speaking a silent message through their minds. Quill and Embry helped Paul to his feet, leaning him up against each other as they limped out of the forest. Jacob waited in silence, half expecting them to return and finish them off.

“They won’t return,” Edward’s voice rose from behind Jacob. Jacob turned to face Edward, and was surprised to see him away from Bella. Edward just nodded at Jacob, and it was enough for now. “Let’s get her inside. Quick, Carlisle is on his way.” Alice carried you inside, Jacob and Edward close at on her heel. Everything else after that became a blur to Jacob. Carlisle and the rest of the Cullens arrived minutes later, and Carlisle began quick work on you to heal your wounds. Jacob stood by your side the entire time. Once you were stable, Carlisle moved you into Alice’s room, and kept you on fluids and a monitor as you slept.

It was a waiting game. Carlisle feared that there had been damage to your brain, but that he had hope you would wake up in your own time. Jacob thanked him as he left. Then it was just the two of you. Jacob sat next to you as the monitor made soft beeps. He held your limp hand, and ran his thumb over your skin.

There was a knock at the door, and Leah and Seth slipped into the room. Seth knelt beside the bed and put his hand on your forehead. A small gesture of love, as he whispered a small prayer. Seth’s eyes were watering and he sniffed as he rubbed his eyes.

“She’ll be okay, Seth,” Leah murmured, “She’s strong. She’s a fighter.”

“Yeah,” Seth said in a small ragged voice.

“Jake,” Leah said, “She’ll make it.”

Jacob just gave a small nod. His throat felt clogged. He felt warm tears fall down his cheek as he rested his head in your hand. He felt his pack put their hand in his shoulders. “Why did it take so long?” Jacob finally choked out, “why now?”

Leah gave a bitter laugh. “One thing I’ve learned is that this ability can be cruel. There may not be any rhyme or reason, but it’s what we have to survive. And she will, she will survive this. You both will.”

Jacob let himself cry as he held your hand. He whispered into your palm, begging for you to wake up. He had so much he wanted to say to you. Things he wished he could explain, apologize for the time he had wasted chasing false dreams. Sense left him, and finally the pain and sorrow was all he felt. He was surrounded by his family and let their love warm the fractured pieces of his tired weary soul.

~

Your eyes fluttered open two days later. Disoriented, you struggled to raise your head up to look around, but got caught up against the breathing tubes and neck brace. You raised your hand to remove them but a strong hand gently gripped your wrists. The touch was familiar, beautifully familiar.

“Steady there speed racer,” Jacob’s husky voice warmed the side of your face. You let him guide your hand back down as you blinked away the rest of your drowsiness. “Jake…what happened…?”

“Shhh shhh,” he cooed, his hand stroked the side of your face. You thought you were still in a dream state, his touch was warm and comforting. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” You resisted the temptation to lean your head deeper into his palm, the scent of him was intoxicating.

You scrunched your brow in confusion. Not matter? Your mind struggled to recall your last memories. You remembered seeing blood on the living room floor, then the green forest just outside of the Cullen house, then a large black wolf lunging towards you…

“Paul,” you whispered. The memories came crashing back in a torrential wave. You tried to jerk up on bed again, but the brace and tubes kept you back.

“What happened? Is everyone okay? Did Alice— oh my god, Bella??”

Jacob put his hands on either side of your face to calm you. “It’s okay, everyone’s fine. Everyone’s fine.” You tried to calm your breathing, but the memories of that night stormed in your mind. Jacob’s presence calmed you; his touch was enough to bring you back into the present.

“I don’t… understand. Jake…”

Jacob explained away the time you missed, careful to leave out the imprinting. He was waiting to see the change in you too, to see if the bond had reshaped your life as it had his. But to his dismay, he saw no change. How could he possibly bring it up to you? Would you even believe him? Just days ago he had been fighting so hard for Bella, the girl he though he loved. How could he ever begin to explain?

Little did he know that your life had already been reshaped. That the bond had formed for you the first moment you saw him. Jacob swallowed his disappointment as he finished his story.

“So, Bella’s gonna be okay? Edward saved her in time?” You asked.

Jacob nodded. “It seems so. Carlisle thinks she should wake up in the next day or so.” Your shoulders relaxed a bit at that bit of information. You hadn’t lost a friend after all.

“But wait, I still don’t understand…, how did Leah convince Sam to leave again?”

Jacob blanked for a moment. She had hoped you wouldn’t notice how he skimmed over that detail, but of course you hadn’t. Jacob opened his mouth to try and craft a delicate lie, but luckily he was saved by Carlisle knocking on the door.

“Ah, good, my favorite patient is up.” Carlisle gave you a warm smile as he approached you. You were happy to see him, healthy and alive. His eyes had returned to a golden brown, and his overall mood seemed happy compared to the last few months.

He began to check on the monitors and tubes, noting your heart rate and oxygen levels. He turned to Jacob.

“Would you mind if I spoke with y/n, alone for a moment?” Jacob wanted to protest, he hadn’t left your side at all while you were under, but that was when he didn’t have to hide anything. He looked at you for a moment, letting himself have the satisfaction of seeing you awake, alive and well, before peeling himself from the chair.

“Of course Doc,�� Jacob said with a small smirk. You watched him as he left, giving him a smile as he turned back to look at you before closing the door.

~

Jacob descended the stairs, his emotions a swirl of confusion. At the base he ran into Leah and Seth, both of whom looked excited. “Edward told us the news. Is she finally awake?” Seth asked, his eyes alight with excitement. Jacob nodded, but he put his hand on Seth’s shoulder. “She’s awake and well. The Doc is talking with her now, but I need to talk with the two of you.”

“Sure, what is it Jake?” Seth asked. Leah just stood there with her arms crossed. She seemed a bit more relaxed after hearing you were okay, but being in the Cullens house was still tough for her, and Jacob appreciated her effort.

Jacob took a slow, steady breath. “I don’t want to tell her about the imprint.” His voice was low and steady. Seth began to protest while Leah held a straight face.

“Listen, this is how it needs to be. Whatever happened the other night seems to only have happened to me. I don’t want to force her into something like this… for her to feel obligated to feel something for me that she doesn’t. She’s kind hearted, and too gentle. I can’t do that to her. And I know I can’t keep it from her forever, but just for now… until I figure out a way to tell her. Please.”

You too Cullen. Please, if you could spread the word to your family… I would appreciate it.

Jacob knew Edward would be able to hear their conversation. He only hoped Edward would play along, for your sake more so than his.

Seth gave Leah an uncertain look, but Leah just nodded in response. “We won’t say anything, but Jake,” Leah began, “we don’t want your heart to break anymore either.”

Jacob just gave a small smile. The images of you flashed through his mind. All of the memories of you in his life, and how much those moments had meant to you, even then. Now they were everything. The breath of life sustaining his soul. He had a purpose now. A reason to always fight, to always be there.

You, and only you.

“It’ll be worth it this time, no matter what happens. Believe me, everything’s different now. Everything.”

Tag-list

@steverogersgirlfriend-blog @milesquaritchh

[sholmeser]

so like it’s 1999 and solid snake is in zanzibar land and gray fox tells you that all he can do is fight. it’s all he has and it’s probably all you’re ever going to have, too, because deep down you know your father is right, you know he is right as you click the lighter and burn the flesh off his skin, you know he is right when he tells you, this will never go away. i am always going to be a part of you. it’s 2005 and solid snake is in shadow moses island, alaska and gray fox tells you that’s good, snake. hit me harder. do it more. that’s good. when you meet meryl you kill the guards, and then snake thinks he loves her, so you kill psycho mantis for her, ocelot tortures you and you withstand it for her, you beat liquid to a pulp for her and while his blood is on your fists he smiles and tells you that you two, you’ll always be the same. gray fox means violence means meryl means violence, so what’s love if not that? what is it if not the feeling of broken bones under your knuckles, if not the smell of your father’s burnt flesh? but she's too young, she doesn’t understand you and she couldn’t if she tried, because she’s eighteen years old and doesn’t know any better and doesn’t understand that after you sleep with her you’re going to get up and let the pillow grow cold, she thinks you’ll tell her everything and when you don’t, because you can’t, she’ll leave you. you kill him with your fists and for her you destroy shadow moses and you hear him say to you again that’s good, snake, that feels good, do it harder. but it isn’t a coincidence that in mgs1 you meet otacon at the same time you meet gray fox. otacon who is so scared of battle he pisses his pants and otacon who cries over a woman who could never love him back and otacon who thinks good people like dogs, kind people like dogs, otacon who passed you a meal, ready-to-eat and a bottle of ketchup across the bars of your cell and when you ask him why the fuck are you here if you cant help me he says to you, i thought you might be hungry. otacon who gives you her handkerchief that was once her mother's and will be hers once again when she dies, when you rest it atop her glazed-over irises, a cycle of love. she was a good person, snake, and so are you. she liked the wolves and you do too. otacon who cries over his baby sister’s little body, who blames himself for being seventeen years old under the touch of the woman who should have been his mother. otacon who when it's 2014 will make you the solid eye and the octocamo suit and the mk. ii to keep you safe and say to you, don't hurt anyone, snake. will say to you: i'll follow you wherever you go, like this. otacon who blubbers like a baby and cries too much and who, when it's 2009 in new york city, you have to say to, go rescue the hostages, because if you don’t he’s going to crumple in on himself, a dying star. this is how you love, you don’t say to him, and how i love, because you showed me how. wrap your arms around his shoulders and hope it’s enough.

[daydreamingupandaway]

Okay y’all, I just finished episode 5, here are some of my thoughts on it!

SPOILERS

-Bruh this bald bitch Xavier is getting on my NERVES. Like I get why you did what you did but you REALLY had to go to get some space girlfriend instead of helping your X-Men? Like I think Magneto KNEW he was going to space because he even mentioned how Xavier went with his Shi’ar Queen- that’s WILD

-Also I didn’t think I realized the magnitude (heh heh, get it?) of what Magneto did until this episode. He does realize he’s probably killing an assload of mutants too right? Like bro has good points but I think killing thousands of people including mutants and like the entire planet may be a tad too far

-Why were they in space when Xavier met with President Kelly? Did I miss something?

-I wasn’t surprised that Rouge joined magneto, but Roberto joining threw me through the loop. I get why, I just didn’t expect it. I mean I’m proud of him though. I wish there was more time before the final battle so we could see Roberto interacting with Magneto and Rouge since we’ve only ever seen him and Jubilee together. (more in next bulletin point about those two) I just feel like there could have been more character interactions in general here. Too much was focused on just fighting. Like how the hell did we go from having 12 hours to 1 so quickly? The fuck????

-More about Rouge, loved her talk with Professor X, you tell ‘em Rouge! Also I love that she wore Gambit’s jacket, I thought it was really sweet.

-Roberto worrying about hurting Jubilee? AWKDKGBDLFN MY HEART AHENGELFKDK like I don’t really know how J feel about romance with them but their friendship and stuff is so adorable and then to have it break like that! Like of course Jubilee would be mad! Roberto effectively went against her family!

-My Queen, my absolute GODDESS storm returned! Yay! I loved the little sister moment Jean and her shared. She had some super cool fighting scenes though, I love how they animate her abilities. I don’t like how my QUEEN GOT MURKED AGAIN WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! So unfair

-Real talk why the FUCK did they send Wolverine to confront Magneto? Honestly Magneto could have done what he did at the end at literally any point, dude was playing it nice. Also, my Morphine loving ass really wishes there was a goodbye scene between Morph and Logan. I mean K know he’s gonna be okay though. It’s Wolverine. I hope we actually get to see more of his healing abilities, we never get too see those….. I mean he is going to be okay, right? My heart cannot take Logan dying he’s like one of my favorite X-Men. Honestly I feel like X-Men 97 haven’t really been doing him right. But it’s pretty much the Scott and Jean show so, go figure

-More on Morph: they got called THEM again!!! That made me so happy! :) but I was a little bit confused when Rouge said something along the lines of: “Morph barely joined our team for 30 minutes and we threw them to the wolves” what does that mean? Am I missing something? Is it from the original show? Because I didn’t watch it so if someone could explain please do!!

-As for Cable, it was really cool to see his powers get shown off! That was awesome. I like the interaction he had with Scott too. Honestly ever since they introduced Cable I was hoping for a Deadpool cameo, hopefully for season two. A girl can only dream.

-Then onto Nightcrawler! Once again my dude has AWESOME GOATED fighting skills!!!!!! We love him. I was surprised he didn’t really try to talk Rouge down during the battle but that fight was way too fast paced. I really liked the scene with the Rosary. I don’t really know why since I’m not religious or anything, I just thought that it was a nice touch.

-Gonna do Scott and Jean in one I guess. I liked the fight between Jean and Mr.Sinister. I think it’s crazy that she could telepathically communicate with Scott that far away. That’s cool. I hope Cable doesn’t kill her. On another note, I love Scott and Jean. Like this show has done WONDERS for Scott’s character but why does EVERYTHING have to be about them?! They’re like the only two characters that got like any character time the entire episode!

-And then because apparently I decided to do everyone I might as well say stuff about Beast, next I’ll do Magneto. (Can you tell this wasn’t planned at all and I’m just rambling lmao?) anyway, Beast was pretty chill here. I always like the little quips he throws out during a fight, and I like that he’s friends with Forge. He is a very swag dude. I’m a little surprised to see him hanging around near the reporter still, especially since she was revealed to be a sentient bot thing and like Roberto said, she somewhat chose to be turned into something that would fight against mutants. But beast is a very peaceful and forgiving person, so I suppose it makes sense.

-Finally, Magneto! Fun fact throughout this entire thing I kept spelling it magneato because I think he’s mag-neat-o (I should be burned at the stake). Well, I would say that if I didn’t think he was a FUCKING IDIOT! Bro another PLANET?! Please tell me how he was planning on loading every mutant up to another planet. I would LOVE to know. There were different ways he could have gone about it, but NOPE. Also- LEECH ACTUALLY DIED?! CKDIFNSKGKELGL SOBBING ACTUALLY SHED A TEAR- like I don’t know what I should have expected but I’m still sad about it. So I guess a huge part of this is a product of grief not just for Genosha but also Leech. God that’s so sad bro-

Forge- unfortunately not much to say here :( I do hope he’s okay though! He’s a really good pilot and very smart!

Overall, I just think this episode was way too rushed. I wish there were more character moments. I mean the professor isn’t dead? Hell I would have punched that old man in the face! I really think the first season should have been longer. I know people disagree but I just want to see more things between other characters that don’t feel so rushed. That’s all I want. I want to see more of my faves instead of having them constantly thrown to the side.

[hetalianskywalker]

The Bad Batch Prompt Event!

End of Avoidence

Summary: You find Commander Wolffe asleep on your couch after a night at 79s.

Authors Note: Thank you @arctrooper69 making this event. I did the SFW prompt with Commander Wolffe x gn! reader. The prompt is in bold. I had wanted to do the NSFW prompt, but the anxiety won out. Hope you all enjoy this instead.

Nickname for reader: Corvid-meaning a crow/raven. Partly based of the special relationship Ravens and Wolves have in the wild.

Warnings: Cursing and I’m pretty sure that’s it.

Word Count: 1225

Thank you for reading!

“Commander Wolffe?” You lean against the door frame in between your bedroom and the living room of your Coruscant apartment. You blink, making sure that you weren’t imagining things. Low and behold, your commanding officer was still half asleep on the couch.

His mismatched eyes give you a half glare as he sits up. You quickly glance him over, noticing the top half of his armor resting on the chair next to him. You both remain at this weird stand off before you sigh and head to the kitchen.

“Caf?” You call over your shoulder. You begin making the pot before you get an answer from him. You had seen the amount of caf Wolffe could go through when he had flimsiwork to do after a large battle or rescue mission.

You are the head engineer for the 104th. Usually your job would go to a clone, but after most of the battalion had been lost near the start of the war you had been recruited instead. Something or other about the Kaminoans at the time needing to train more engineers.

It had been weird at first being the only natural born on an entire Star Destroyer other than General Plo Koon and an occasional visit from Admiral Coburn. However, you grew to enjoy the company of the clones around you and they all seemed to get along with you. Apart from two that is and one of those was a recent development.

You can see Wolffe walk into your kitchen and sit down at your small table. While he doesn’t say anything, you turn just in time to see him take in a whiff of your brewing high grade caf. He almost smiles.

“I’ll take that as a yes on the caf than, Commander.” You state, unable to stop the smug smile from spreading across your face. Falling back on the jabs and glares that were the foundation for the majority of the conversations you had with him before whatever falling out had happened.

The trance of good smelling caf is broken as he now focuses his eyes on you and fully frowns, but still nods. You turn back to the caf, reminded once again that something had happened to change his opinion of you. You had no idea what though. At first he seemed to enjoy the banter with you until he started out right avoiding you a few months back. At least with the battalion’s CMO, you knew exactly why you two didn’t get along; you had a tendency of trying to take care of your own wounds yourself.

Actually for someone who can’t seem to stand me, how the hell did he end up on my couch? The thought hits you like a tidal wave as the caf machine beeps and you pour the two cups. You take them to the table and hand Wolffe his. You quietly add your extras in, once again trying to figure out why Wolffe was in your apartment, as he quietly enjoys his caf black.

“I don’t dislike you.” He breaks through your spiraling thoughts as you look up at him from your now much lighter caf.

“Since when?” You want to smack yourself when the unfiltered response reaches the open air.

“Since we met,” Wolffe snaps back. “Alright, Corvid.” You didn’t know how to respond to that. Both with the confession and the nickname most of the Wolfpack referred to you as. You were often perched in high places on the Star Destroyer when troops found you during any off time, wore mostly black when not in uniform, and you had somehow become a kind of safe house for Wolfpack contraband, which were mostly harmless things. Since most of your conversations recently had been unavoidable and professional, you hadn’t heard him call you that in months.

“You go down a different hall the moment you see me, how exactly am I supposed to take that, Wolffe?” It comes out far more resigned than the anger you wanted and he doesn’t deny it. “What brought this on anyway?”

“I overheard you tell a batch of shinies at 79’s that I hated you.” It’s the wrong answer to the wrong question, but it gives you information you wanted none the less. The heat rushes to your face and you watch him smirk. Fuck. You resist a very powerful urge to bang your head against the table. Cause if he heard that then he probably heard what your tipsy ass had said after that. At least you hadn’t been completely drunk and totally made a fool of yourself.

When he doesn’t say anything, your shoulders relax in relief. No hangover and he didn’t hear the more embarrassing half of that conversation. Today might actually be an okay day.

“Still doesn’t explain why you are on my couch.” You grumble as you take a sip of your slowly cooling drink.

“I came by to check that you got home alright and I wanted to talk to you. And you invited me in.” You nearly spit out your caf.

“I did not.”

“You were half asleep. You told me to spend the night with how late it was and waved at the couch.” Wolffe pauses before giving you a sharp smirk. “Besides, you wouldn’t rat out your favorite.”

“I totally play favorites. Mine just so happens to also hate me. Kriff, I’m fucking pathetic and toxic as hell, but oh well. You only live once.” You had raised a glass and the shinies had seemed to get a good laugh out of your self deprecating jokes. The memory makes your stomach churn.

No, he definitely heard the entire conversation with the shinies. Great, just fucking great.

“You’re the worst.” You growl.

“Yeah well you still like me.” The smug response makes you want to scream. But you're suddenly hit with the fact that he’s not rejecting you.

You inspect him for a moment; your mind trying to put together some other explanation for this situation. Wolffe smirks again as he sets his now empty cup down. Your thoughts take a carnal turn for a moment, having never seen his top half with just his blacks on up close. You shake them away as a new surge of anger comes through.

“Why did you avoid me then? I was trying to figure out for mouths why the fuck…”

“I thought avoiding you would end it. But it seemed to just make it worse for both of us apparently.” He cuts you off and you take a second to digest the words. It’s quiet for too long.

“And that was a mistake.” It’s not quite an apology, but he says it like it’s one. You open your mouth to except the peace offering.

“I’m sorry.” The genuineness of it soothes your remaining anger.

“Thank you.” As you say it, most of the tension finally leaves your kitchen.

“So what happens now?” Wolffe smirks again at the question as he leans in close.

“Well Corvid, you said we only live once.” You blush and stare at one another a quick moment before his hands gently rest on the sides of your face. He glances at your mouth and back at your eyes. A silent question.

You nod. A silent response earns you a kiss you have wanted and waited to long for.

[svearehnn]

winter's frost part two | azriel x fem!reader

Summary: After a rather abrupt ending to your Starfall celebration, you find yourself on death's edge, and only the touch of your mate can lull you to safety.

Warnings: violence, bloodshed, cursing, nudity, smut

part one

“How the hell did they get here?” You cried out, your magic surging towards the vicious creature, severing one of its heads with a blade of ice.

You had barely any time to change into your fighting attire before scrambling into the fight, and the same had been said for Kallias. The two of you and three guards had been fighting for what seemed like hours, struggling to behead the beasts. They held seven heads each, the most you had ever seen.

One of the heads lunged, narrowly missing your arm as you fired again, your magic steadily dwindling. A fatal scream filled your ears, and out of the corner of your eye you saw a guard get ripped to shreds. With gritted teeth you called to the ether, letting blue wisps seep from your palms and form three wolves made of sharply cut ice.

“I have no idea.” Kallias called as he battled his own monster, now only bearing three heads and close to its looming death. You focused, vision straight-lining towards the next Naga that wasn’t currently being ravaged by your wolves. It set its eyes on you and came barreling towards you with an ear-piercing screech. A claw swiped and made contact with your abdomen, throwing you to the snow-covered ground. You threw back your own hit, severing two heads with three blades, the third a whisper in the wind as it imbedded itself into a tree.

You struggled to stand, the pain almost unbearable as your blood hit the ground, but you had to keep going. Its teeth were threatening your flesh, and you were keen on not letting it.

“I am going to slaughter the monster that set these upon us,” you muttered before laying down a path of ice toward the Naga. As you slid, you unsheathed two blades and dug them up into the underbelly as you gained momentum. You slowed once you reached the snow and rolled back onto your feet, dodging a head and severing another. The monster, now gutted, was easy to kill. You cleaved off the heads that remained and shot three blades into the air. They reached their target, and the Naga that was terrorizing the guards fell to the ground.

Your wolves skulked back to you as the last Naga withered underneath Kallias’ well-placed blade. With a heavy breath you slumped to the ground, dropping your swords and pressing your hands against the wound on your abdomen. The wolves vanished as your magic subsided. Your vision was waning and you were barely able to see Kallias as he came upon you.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He dropped to the ground next to you and added his hands to yours, digging them into your skin as you grimaced.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you laughed, letting your eyes close.

“Get me a healer!” Feet shuffled, and you assumed that the two guards scurried off to complete his request. Kallias lifted you, a groan leaving your lips as he adjusted you into his arms. “Open your eyes.” You tried, you really did, but the wind and the falling snow wrenched them shut once again. 

“Kal, I need to tell you something.” You murmured, feeling woozy from the blood loss. He hurried his steps, outright sprinting to your home where a healer would no doubt be waiting.

“You can tell me later.”

“No, Kal, I need to tell you now. I met my mate at Starfall.” Your breathing was ragged, your hands weakening, no longer able to stop the blood from seeping out.

“I know, I saw.” He huffed, throwing his shoulder into the door. You were encompassed in warmth, soft cushions pressing against your back as he set you down gingerly. “You can see him again once we get you healed.”

“Yeah.” He slapped your cheek, hard enough to sting, but not enough to seriously hurt. Your eyes flew open as he held your face in his hands, his icy eyes glaring into yours.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up now. You’re not dying in a fight with some idiotic Nagas.” You chuckled, blood trickling out of the side of your mouth.

“No, I’m not dying. I’m just tired.”

“Sleep later.” He commanded before removing himself and letting the healer take his spot beside you. She smiled solemnly at you before placing her hands over your abdomen and closing her eyes.

“Oh my gods,” a female voice sounded. You turned your tired eyes to stare at Viviane who stood by the stairs, still in her gown, a hand over her mouth. Kallias slid past the healer and wrapped her into his arms, murmuring words into her ear that you didn’t quite hear.

“Can you send for him?” You asked into the air, wincing as your wound slowly knitted itself shut under kind hands. “My mate. Can you ask him to come?” Kallias pulled away from his own mate and, with a nod, headed upstairs towards his study. Viviane came to you then, settling herself above your head, smoothing your hair down.

“How many were there?” She asked, her voice soothing like a dove’s. You struggled to recall, having not bothered to count in the midst of the fight.

“Four, maybe five. Maybe more, I can’t remember.” She nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You did well. We’re going to figure out who’s the cause of this.” You reached a bloodied hand up to wrap around her wrist, searching for comfort as the pain began to lessen.

“And once you find them, give them to me. I’ll make them regret messing with the Winter Court.” Viviane chuckled.

“I know you will, darling.”

Kallias returned then, scarlet dripping from his clothes and hair. “I sent Rhys a letter,” he stated, coming to stand beside Viviane. He rested a hand on your shoulder, a grim smile pulling at his lips. “He’ll be here soon.”

“Good.” You mumbled, sending Kallias as warm of a smile as you could muster before looking up at the silver-haired female. “Did you see, Viviane?” The healer was nearly done now, but the blood loss was starting to get to you. “Did you see that I found my mate?” She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I did. I’m happy for you, Y/N.” You smiled as well, looking up at her and your brother, no longer feeling a sense of jealousy toward their connection. Now you had your own, your other half, and he was on his way. You blushed at the thought.

The healer removed her hands from your skin, wiping them off on the apron that she wore. “You should sleep now, My Lady. Let the rest of your healing take its toll overnight.” You nodded, a quiet ‘thank you’ leaving your lips as she disappeared from your line of sight.

“Do you have any ideas of who did this, Brother?” He didn’t answer, but rather laid a fur blanket on top of your form. The action had you realize that you were shivering.

“We’ll talk about it later. For now, get some rest.” So you did. The second you closed your eyes, you drifted off.

Your dreams were filled with shadows and amber hues. It was comforting, not a single nightmare afflicting your hallucinating mind. But rather, you knew he was there, keeping your thoughts safe and your pain at ease. He even appeared, too. His eyes were alight with that familiar sparkle, his lips set in a soft smile, shadows circling his head akin to a halo.

“Azriel,” you called out, and he came to you, arms outstretching before he wrapped them around you. “You remind me of a falling star.” You mumbled into his shoulder, embracing the warmth that radiated off of his body as he embraced you.

A chuckle brought you seamlessly out of your slumber, and as you opened your eyes, hazel irises met yours. You blinked lazily, surveying his face as a cat would with a butterfly. Curiously, happily, intrigued. “You’re here?” You croaked out the question, bringing your fingers up to caress his cheek.

“You said my name in your sleep.” You reciprocated his smile as your hand dropped onto your stomach.

“I was dreaming about you.” He quirked a brow and your cheeks flushed as you came to realize his interpretation. You softly slapped his shoulder as a squeak left your lips. “No, not like that, you fool.” He threw his head back and laughed, shoulders shaking as his laughter continued in silence.

“You were dreaming about me.”

“Oh shut up.” You remarked, feeling heat roaring up your neck and face even stronger than before. You shifted, trying to sit up to see him better. His hands helped guide you, pressing softly against the skin that sat in between your shoulder blades.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as he came to sit beside you, shoulders brushing. A wing curled around you, and you sighed out at the warmth that felt so similar to your dream.

“Better, but I need to bathe.” Azriel nodded at that and crinkled his nose in mock disgust. You went to swat at him again, but he clasped your hand in his and kissed it, not minding the dried blood that was flaking off of your skin.

“I fear we never finished what we started at Starfall.” He murmured, inching closer to you, brushing his nose against your cheek as he held your hand firmly against his chest.

“You mean you want to kiss me?” You mocked with a sardonic smile. Azriel nodded eagerly, placing a kiss just below your ear. Your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as you let out a gentle sigh. “I want our first kiss to not have me covered in blood.” He stood at that, tugging on your hand.

“Then let’s get you cleaned up.” You tried to stand, but phantom pain shot through your abdomen. Azriel let go of your hand and wrapped his arms around your waist to help you stand. You leaned against him, letting him lead you to the stairs with staggered steps. He brought the two of you up the stairs, yourself practically useless as sleep drudged in your veins. But he was patient, and he was kind, and gods he was ethereal, like he was a god himself.

You pointed him towards your chambers and he opened the doors, stepping in and leading you to the only other door. He sat you down on a chair before rolling his sleeves up and turning on the bath’s faucet. Water spurted out, immediately steaming up the spacious room and you heaved out a relieved sigh.

“Do you need any help or do you have it from here?” He questioned, amber eyes admiring you even in your post-battle state. You smiled lazily and stood on shaky knees, gripping the arm of the chair as you faltered.

“I might need help, if that’s alright,” you whispered, shame tinting your cheeks at the thought of him seeing you bare in such a state. In mere seconds he was before you, hands on your waist as he led you over to the bath and set you on the edge. He made quick work of your shirt, peeling it from your skin. Azriel then went to your boots, untying each lace and throwing them into the corner where your shirt ended up. Then came your socks, then your trousers, and you were left in a bra and panties.

Red tinged his neck as he kept his eyes away from your body. You sucked in a breath, eyes shutting as you braced yourself. You tried to undo your bra, but your fingers stumbled.

“You can look.” Your voice was near-silent. You so wished to shy away from his eyes, not let him see you, but you knew it was impossible to bathe when your body still felt so ragged. Help was needed and he was willing. Azriel’s eyes met yours before trailing down your body, taking in every little scar that peeked through your blood coated skin. He reached behind you and unclasped your bra with ease, lifting you up in his arms to take care of the last of your underclothes. Carefully he dipped you into the water once the clothes were on the floor and you let out a blissful moan.

“Gods, this is nice.” He chuckled, dipping a rag in the water before running it over the back of your shoulders. The two of you sat like that for a while, the silence comforting as he gently removed every speck of blood from your skin. His touch was welcome, you thought, now that the embarrassment and shame had washed away in the dirtied water. You leaned back into him, the back of your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he cleaned your collarbones and dipped, dipped down to your breasts. 

When it came to your legs, he handed you the rag and and pressed circles into your shoulders, removing the tension from the muscles. With your head lifted as you focused, his lips came to the side of your neck, trailing kisses and nips up to the bottom of your ear before moving down the path he had carved. You dropped the rag in the water when you were done and scooched forward, dunking your head and mussing your hair.

As you came back up, his hands massaged your head with soap that smelled of white tea and violets. You floated down again, washing out the soap, and you took the towel he offered as you rose above the water. The bath seemed to wake you, your body thrumming, that electric pulse vibrating underneath your skin. You stepped out of the bath as you wrapped yourself up and you smiled at him. Pure and utterly holy as you stepped toward him, one hand holding your towel as the other sunk into the hair at the nape of his neck.

You pulled him closer and breathed in his scent of pine and cedar before joining your lips, moving in tandem with softness and love. Love–even though you had met only the night before, you felt the love in your chest, in the bond that held you together and you tugged, filtering those emotions into his soul. The same was sent back, a wave of undying love and hope and anticipation as he brought you ever so closer, chest against chest, lips against lips, hands tangling in hair.

Falling, you were falling so hard and so fast. You dropped your hand, the towel long forgotten as you brought it up to his jaw and held him as close as the universe would allow. He deepened the kiss with a nibble at your bottom lip, tongue meeting yours in the middle, moving with the synchronicities and familiarities of old lovers.

He felt right; the piece of the puzzle you were missing finally in place, setting into motion what the Mother had granted your two souls. Azriel lifted you up into his arms and walked out of the bathing room before setting you on the bed and climbing on top of you, lips disconnecting as he trailed those sweet kisses down your neck, along your collarbones, and down to your breasts. He suckled a nipple into his mouth, a free hand caressing the other and you gasped, threading your fingers into his hair again. Your core was on fire, pain and lethargy forgotten in the water of the bath.

“Az,” you breathed out as he released your nipple and drifted those plush lips down your stomach, landing on the inside of your thigh and making his way to your knee. He looked up at you then, those amber eyes as dark as hot caramel and as rich as the taste. Those kisses went back up, a shudder going through you as he placed a chaste one over your bud, then licked a stripe up your clit. A sigh came from you then as he connected, bliss shutting your eyes, tightening your grip on his hair, sigh after sigh after moan falling out of your lips as he worked.

His tongue felt sacrificial on your clit, those shadows of his swirling around your wrists and arms and head, bathing you in a divine darkness. You felt a coil in your stomach, ready to burst at any second as you repeated his name over and over again. Euphoria released itself, washing over you, a sacred promise of more to come as he worked you through it, one hand holding your stomach down, the other pushing your thighs open.

As you came down from your high, he lifted his head and wiped his chin, a muted chuckle leaving his throat. 

“Gods,” you muttered, untangling your fingers from his dark locks and guiding him back up to your lips. His body dwarfed yours, bulge digging into your already sensitive core as you devoured each other in unholy matrimony. You swiftly lifted his shirt and he pulled away to bring it over his head and throw it. He came back down, lips moving with yours in tandem as you hurriedly tried to undo the laces of his trousers. Azriel shrugged them off, boxers joining them on the floor. He unconnected your lips, eyes opening to search yours, an unasked question swirling around in those russet irises. 

“Yes,” you voiced, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He guided himself to your clit, gliding up and down to collect your slick before slowly pushing in. A guttural moan left you as he leisurely slid himself in until he bottomed out and waited with shut eyes. You whined and bucked your hips, an unworded sign for him that he took with a grunt. He pulled out slowly and pushed back in, eyelids fluttering open to watch as ecstasy took over your features. It stayed like that, eyes searching the other's as he made love to you, as he soaked up every sound you made, every twitch, every tremble until you were coming undone once again underneath him.

You clenched around his length and he moved faster, more desperately as he came upon his own demise, sinking deeper and deeper into you. His lips found yours again as he thrust in one last time, letting his own release take over him, relishing in the feel of your lips against his, of your skin against his, bodies covered in sweat and souls filled with adoration.

He fell upon you then, a kiss placed at the junction of your throat and collarbone. “I love you,” he whispered into your sticky skin, and you whispered it right back, holding him against you and stroking his hair. Sleep threatened to lull you back into its grasp, so he pulled out and clung to you like he would never be able to again. Azriel’s wings wrapped around you and all to soon you drifted away, content in his arms. You had found your safekeeper, and your home was no longer a place, but rather a fae.

[sharenadraculea]

The primarchs having a sleepover, or having a smoke sesh?

Also I love these sm <3

The Primarchs having a sleepover!

Thank you so much! So here is a primarch-sleepover-thing! It was Big Es idea, so they can bond a little.

Lion: He is a bit on edge. His instincts tell him that sleeping in a room with so many people is dangerous. They later play Truth or dare and he ends up getting dared to kiss his crush (depending on my mood Sang, Rob, Leman or Konrad). Insert Gay Panic. Also showed up in his regular sleeping-shirt, which… it‘s a bit short. And has a bit of a deep neckline. Fulgrim: He has the most fancy, ruffliest nightgown ever. Brought make-up, hairstyling stuff and drugs for everyone. He‘s having a great time, except when he and Ferrus are told to stop making out in front of everyone. Proceeds to explain that they are in a open relationship and that he‘s willing to share. Perty: He has no idea what to do. Showed up in full armour, because he usually sleeps in armour. Promptly got dressed up by like half the others. Then built a pillowfort, Magnus falls asleep in it. Starting to think this might be fun. Jagh: One of the ones more used to sleeping in a room with a lot of other people, so he is pretty chill about this. Teaches the other how to braid, Leman is very happy to serve as guinea pig. Ends up cuddeling with Magnus, which is very comfy. Somehow manages to sleep through the whole night and be rested the next morning. Leman: Very happy to have a sleepover (tough he is still confused why this is special, sleeping alone is kind of rare on Fenris). Brought his wolves along. And alcohol, lot’s of alcohol. Somehow he manages to get drunk, and thus very cuddly. Flirts with everyone and tries to smooch most. Ends up sleeping on the floor, in a position that must be uncomfortable. Also barks in his sleep. Does sleep naked (or in his underwear) Rogal: He tries his best, but sleeping in a room with so many people is sensory hell and he wants his own bed again and also sleep at a reasonable time. Rob realizes that Rogal isn‘t doing well too, so the two end up in Rogals room and facetime their brothers so they can still participate in the sleepover while also beeing in a calmer enviroment. Konrad: Fulgrim forced him to take a bath. He is still grumpy because of that and tries to hide in the vents. Then get‘s coaxed out with the power of snacks and spends the rest of the evening parked in someones lap (most likely Fulgrim, Sang or Vulkan) so he doesn’t run away. It‘s very comfy. Refuses to sleep surrounded by so many people. His Sleeping-shirt hasn‘t been washed in years. Sang: Wearing a matching nightgown to Fulgrim. Just with a lowercut back. He is having a very good time and probally ends up kissing everyone at least once. Ends up stealing half the blankets to build a nest. There nearly is a battle royale abput who get‘s to sleep next to him.

Ferrus: Fulgrim is very unhappy that he didn‘t match with him. He and Fulgrim are very cuddly the whole time. Happy to serve as Fulgrims pillow, very good at it. Angron: Not quite sure what‘s going on, but Lorgar put him into a fluffy pijama-sweater and dragged him along and now he keeps getting handed plushies and snacks. It is acceptable. Then he just falls asleeps and doesn‘t move for the next few hours. Roboute: He also tries his best, but this is a total mess that has been organized really badly! Ends up leaving with Rogal and they read some books and infodump on each other, which is very nice. Morty: He‘s very overwhelmed at first and has no idea what to do. Just kind of sits in the corner at first, but then Vulkan comes over and asks if he would like to do something. They end up playing cardgames together and in the end he uses Vulkan as a giant teddybear. Also wears a pijama with cute little moths on it. Magnus: He suggests summoning demons as a fun actinity for the whole family! The others barely manage to stop him. Sulks for a while but then Perturabo shows him his pillowfort, which cheers him up again. Then makes up with everyone from his harem. Clothes that actually cover something? Never heard of that. Horus: Also tries to flirt with literally everyone and get‘s some really hard wingslaps from Sang. Then goes to take Fulgrims drugs and drink Lemans alcohol. Somehow still capable of calling Emps and Malc and assuring them that everything is fine. Horribly hungover the next day. Also sleeps either naked or only in his underwear. Lorgar: Is it fine to sleep in the same room as other people if you are not married? Doesn‘t matter, Angron won‘t let him go anyways. Definetly wearing a sleeping bonnet, he can‘t sleep with cold ears. Vulkan: He remembers to bring actual snacks! Very excited to spend time with his siblings and needs to hug everyone at least ten times. He kind of imagined something diffrent under „playing games“, but this is fun too! Corvus: Kind of staying on the side until Vulkan convices them to play cards with him and Morty. And then they and Morty get pulled into also playing stuff like spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven. Which is fun! Sleeps on the closet (not in the closet, that‘s where Lion is). Also wearing a crow-onesie, it‘s absolutly adorable Alpharius Omegon: This was probally their idea. They are having such a good time with all the chaos. Refuse to explain why there are suddenly two of them.

[yandere-fics]

♡ You Kill Selene But She Comes Back ♡

♡ Dying was not fun, Selene was pretty sure she'd already done it once before, granted she couldn't remember her human life before she became a god so she wasn't sure, dying at the hands of her soulmate was even less fun even if it was justified, still she would forgive you as soon as she got herself out of her grave, forgiving your soulmate was just what you did and just as you'd forgive her for trying to slit your throat centuries prior, she'd forgive you for fucking murdering her when she was just following the scent of her soulmate, at least you'd looked remorseful about doing it after you made eye contact and realized she was someone important to you. ♡

♡ You didn't know about the soulmate thing until you'd awoken two centuries prior, long after you'd been killed in a territory battle during the great war, there were so many things you were unaware of, everything had already came to an end and life had gone on since your death but you remained virtually the same, only mildly decomposed now, you had gods at your side to explain everything except they'd left out what had occured with Selene, only telling you she was different now and at some point you would have to meet her. You didn't want to at any point and so you left, hiding in a hidden temple on border territory between the wolves and the elves, you weren't even sure which god this had belonged to but it was yours now. ♡

When you saw Selene enter your temple you'd shot her over and over and over again until you were sure she'd gone down only to lock eyes with her and realize she was this soulmate thing the other gods had been talking about which is when you'd buried her and ran the fuck out of there, no territory seemed safe at this point but the city was your best bet and so for the first time ever you met the boss, and bent the knee in order to be allowed a job and a place to stay. That was how you found yourself being a security worker in her employee dorms, protecting the human, potential soulmates, who lived there.

♡ Selene had entered the temple expecting to find her soulmate there waiting for her to return so she could apologize and then hopefully you could spend some quality time there together but you'd left, you'd left her gravesite, maybe she wouldn't be able to forgive you immediately after all, sure you might not have had soulmates explained to you but surely you would have felt that she was someone important to you so you leaving signified you were completely throwing it away. ♡

♡ You'd begun to decay after you killed Selene, your body couldn't seem to survive without her presence, it wasn't at an extremely noticeable level but you could tell you would only last another 5 years before things got really bad, you already stayed away from the employees in the dorms, they could handle seeing a lot of stuff however they likely wouldn't be able to handle a walking corpse that was rotting slowly. The Boss had artifacts for revival but due to you being linked if you were fully revived as not a corpse she'd be revived and you were much too spiteful to allow that monster to be alive again. ♡

Selene couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, could barely even think, she couldn't even shift anymore now that she was dead and since you weren't with her, there was no way to reverse this issue. Selene was forgiving, she'd forgive you as soon as she got you back, you just had to come back before she rotted away from the inside, her only hope now was to bend the knee to The Boss in hopes she would help her retrieve you, after that she might scar you a bit before she figured out how to revive you two, just so you'd be mangled when she brought you back and no one else could possibly love you, it was only fair with what you had done to her face. She hated having to be in the city, the yearly meeting of the gods was already hard enough but it was her only option now.

♡ She'd been told you were not in the city and it would be some time before The Boss could accurately assess where you had gone, it could take awhile but any wait was worth it to have you back in her arms, she'd surely earned your forgiveness by this point, she was sure of it, after all she was a walking rotting corpse growing more disfigured by the day, only you would love her now and only she would love you after she added some touches to your face. She was given a piece of good news in addition, the cure for your rotting was for you both to consent to her marking you, that was all it would take, then she could bring you back here and The Boss would revive you for a cost. ♡

♡ You'd been given four days off warning that Selene was coming to visit, you hadn't expected her to rise within two years, not when it had taken you centuries but Selene was stronger, it was how she killed you, you were fully aware for a fact she couldn't smell very well and likely could smell even worse now that she was undead so you weren't worried about her finding you in the city as long as you stayed out of sight and took your vacation days while she was visiting, it was incredibly spiteful to continue to do this when your days were limited and this would easily fix it but life bound to your murderer didn't sound fun so you were more than willing to die for this. ♡

Selene wasn't gone but your vacation was over and while you could take more days, you wanted to save every day you had for your final months alive and so you returned to work which was a horrible idea because Selene saw you going to the convenience store for drinks for your break. She'd ran at you in excitement telling you she'd been looking but she guessed The Boss just hadn't informed you. You'd tried running and she quickly realized her thoughts were wrong, you weren't going to be with her.

♡ Perhaps it was a bit fucked up for Selene to drag you into an alley and rip your neck out when you told her you would rather rot to death than allow her to consensually mark you, she assumed you'd be fine, you'd just have a scar when you revived or maybe when she started you would suddenly give your consent once you realized you actually would die but after she did that you did die and she collapsed instantly afterwards. At least you were together now forever. Hopefully in your death you would forgive her. ♡

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Hand in Hand, to Hell and Back, I Will Follow You

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Carol Peletier

Setting: France

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; blood and injury; poorly written smut

Summary: Finally.

A/N: This can stand alone or be the third part following Two Sinners Can’t Atone from a Lone Prayer and You Wanna Shut Away the Pieces of a Broken Heart

©celtic-crossbow 2024. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or placed on any other platform without my consent.

“Here! In here!” Carol held open the door, watching the surrounding area nervously while the people she had led away from the battle filed into the small room. Three men. One woman. And a boy. She made sure they weren’t followed and closed the door, pulling down the yellowing shades before pushing a desk in front of the entrance. The papers, letters long forgotten, scattered onto the floor. She took but a moment to consider if they were meant for a loved one who would never read the words. 

“Qui es-tu?” The blonde woman was shielding the child behind her, as if Carol meant them harm after running into the fray and leading them to safety. Well, at least some form of temporary safety. 

Regardless, she had no time for questions. 

Her focus was on the man hanging between the other two. The reason she had crossed an ocean and fought her way through an unfamiliar land on just a single thread of hope she would find him. 

“Daryl?” Carol took his face in her hands, lifting his head, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. She had hoped her voice would have been enough to rouse him. “Shit.” Frantic blue eyes took stock of the room, filled to the brim with books and documents, everything coated in a thick layer of dust and entirely useless. 

“Who are you?” The woman spoke again and was once again ignored. 

Moving quickly, Carol swept her arms across a table, sending everything onto the floor to be forgotten. “Put him here.” The men took a moment to regard one another. “Now!” She barked, reluctant but not unwilling to pull her gun. Daryl obviously knew these people if he was willing to fight with—for—them, but she didn’t. 

“How do you know him?”

Carol gritted her teeth. She wasn’t out to make enemies but she wasn’t striving for friends either. Placing Daryl’s crossbow on the desk, she unshouldered her bag and dug through it for the medical supplies she had gathered along her journey. 

“It’s okay, Isa.” Carol spared a glance toward the boy, but then gathered her supplies, all she could carry, and returned to the table where Daryl lay prone, pressing two fingers to his neck just to reassure herself he was still there. “She’s his lady Carol. She isn’t here to hurt us.”

She froze for a moment, knife in one hand and the other hovering over the bullet wound in Daryl’s thigh. Focus. Cutting through the trousers and wiping away the blood with a piece of fabric torn from her own shirt and several alcohol prep squares, she could get a better look at what she was dealing with. Through and through. There was no way of knowing if it had hit the bone but it had definitely missed the artery or she would be putting him down rather than patching him up. With any luck, it had gone through the muscle alone. His limp would likely be more profound but it was preferable to a shattered femur. 

“Bullet went through.” She sniffed, holding back the tears that so desperately fought to fall. He was there, alive and breathing, and she was going to make sure he stayed that way. Carol unbuckled her belt, granting the room’s other occupants a moment’s worth of her full attention before she slipped the leather through the loops and worked it beneath Daryl’s leg. 

“My name is Fallou.” One man offered, stepping closer while she secured the belt as a tourniquet. She didn’t respond and wouldn’t. Daryl may have been less than truthful about his life and family in order to protect the ones he’d left. Without him awake, she wouldn’t risk unweaving the tale he may have told. “This is Losang.” Her eyes flitted up from the gauze she was applying, following Fallou’s gesture toward the other man. 

“I’m Laurent. This is Isabelle.” 

Carol couldn’t help but nod and give the kid a tight-lipped smile. 

“And you’re his Carol.”

His. “Yeah? And how do you know that?” She was genuinely curious. Winding the bandage around Daryl’s thigh didn’t take much focus aside from trying to do so without cutting off the entire pant leg. The wound would need stitched whenever they could find the supplies necessary. 

“I can just tell. Monsieur Daryl spoke of you.” She chuckled quietly but said nothing else. She should have been wondering what he had said about her but all she could think about was his facial expression at being called a monsieur. Carol froze again when the boy continued. “You have the same look on your face as he does when he speaks of you.”

Everyone else in the room disappeared and there was only Daryl, peaceful behind the blood and bruises in a way she wished she could see without injury. Finally able to relax, she pulled over the office chair and collapsed into it, leaning forward with one elbow on the table, the opposite hand smoothing the hair away from his face. 

“Everyone rest. We have to wait this out.” She instructed, words given on autopilot that she wouldn’t remember later. 

He came to gradually and then all at once, a burning, jolting pain in his left thigh that radiated down to his toes and back up to his hip in a hot gasoline trail. “Fuck.” He rasped before even opening his eyes. He was disoriented, feeling everything spin behind closed lids. Where was he? Had they lost? Had the Nest been taken?

“Easy.” Isabelle’s voice broke through the barrier of pain, a relief enveloping him to know she was alive. The steadiness in her tone told him that Laurent was safe, but there was a hesitance there as well, a heaviness that was out of place. 

Daryl turned his head toward the soft call of his name and blinked open tired eyes. They had been outnumbered, that much he could recall. Codron has switched sides, offering them knowledge of the attack and thus time to at least form a line of defense. He remembered the blinding pain when the bullet struck his leg. He had only just struggled to his feet after a blow to the head, taken right back down in a cocoon of agony. Then there was nothing. 

Almost nothing. 

He’d heard Carol’s voice. It wasn’t unusual. He always heard her when he slept. Her soft syllables reminded him of why he continued fighting to keep the boy safe. He needed to finish what he’d started and then get home to her. France could never be home. Not without Carol. 

He’d be lying to them and himself if he promised to stay, even when the mission wasn’t complete, when any opportunity to make it back to the Commonwealth might present itself. He’d leave them behind the tide and never look back. 

So he never promised. 

He had promised Carol he’d make it home. And he’d never lie to her. He didn’t intend to start now. 

An electric current of pain snaked out from the wound, and he jerked, attempting to shake it, somehow grasp it and hold it at bay. 

“We will return soon and you can rest and heal.” Isabelle was holding his hand and though he didn’t pull away, the touch felt wrong. 

“Did—is anythin’ still there to go back to?” Her blurry silhouette shrugged, distant shouts and gunshots muffled behind a closed door. 

“We had to run. You were injured and the hungry ones came. She came then too. She led us here and we’ve been safe.”

She? “Who?” Isabelle didn’t answer, forcing him to wait until his vision cleared before trying again. “Who?” She smiled sadly with a distinct jerk of her chin, indicating the other side of him. Daryl rolled his head and his breath hitched before stopping completely. He’d know that crown of silver hair anywhere. “Carol?” Her head was on the table, rested atop her arms just beside his elbow. If he was going crazy, he was taking Isabelle with him. She could see the woman too. It was all enough to have him ignoring the pain and scrambling upright. “Carol? Carol!” 

She jerked awake, finding his gaze with ease, her own eyes wide as her hands began to flail in ill fated attempts to subdue him. “Daryl, wait! Calm down, you’re hurt—stop it!” 

He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Carol didn’t resist when he found her upper arms, damn near pulling her onto the table with him to crush her against his chest. He was crying, pride be damned. She was there and whole and there and he couldn’t let go. “Carol.” His voice shook and cracked as he held onto her, not realizing nor caring that she was returning the embrace. He just needed to feel her there. The shame of being so desperate for her would come later. 

“I’m here. I’m here.” She soothed, petting the back of his head. She was shaking, sobbing softly into his shoulder. 

It wasn’t long before his body reminded him of his injuries, his energy waning, but he refused to let go and sagged against her, clumsily holding on and adjusting his grip on her jacket each time it failed him. 

“It’s okay, Daryl. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.” Her voice was fading as he was left no choice but to give in to the pull of exhaustion and blood loss, still clinging to her with weak fingers while she eased him onto his back. “Rest now. I’m here.”

“Carol.” He croaked, hands falling away, one thudded against the table while the other fell right into her waiting palm. He was so tired, overwhelmed by the strong notion that she could still be just a dream. As darkness crept into the edges of his vision, he whispered the same words he always did when he’d seen her while he slept. “I love you. Don’t go.” 

He was no longer on a hard table the next time he clawed his way into the waking world. Though the mattress wasn’t much of an improvement, it still eased the ache in his muscles and the throbbing pulse in his leg. She was his first thought, his hand squeezing the soft weight of fingers curled around it. 

“Easy, Daryl.” 

He let out a sob, uncaring of the weakness he displayed. Carol was really there. His eyes found hers, tired and red-rimmed. “You’re here.” He breathed, struggling to sit up. She didn’t stop him but slipped an arm behind his neck to assist his efforts. “How?”

Once he was upright, still holding tightly to her hand, Carol rubbed at her eyes with her free forearm. Her jacket, he noticed, was discarded on the undisturbed bedroll behind her. “I found a clue and followed your trail.” She smirked and placed a palm against his cheek, rubbing her thumb over the stubble there. “Getting sloppy in your old age.” She chuckled and he blushed, feeling the burn of it all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Glad I was this time.” He admitted.  

Carol gave him that gentle smile that always turned his heart inside out. “Your color is better. You were cold as ice when we got you here. I stitched up your leg. Everyone was worried but I know you. It’d take way more than this to take you down.” She gestured toward his leg. 

Daryl nodded, grateful for that bit of praise when he truly felt as if a strong breeze could knock him over. He hadn’t had the presence of mind until that moment to look around. The room was unfamiliar but definitely one found within the walls of the Nest. It still stood. 

He had grown accustomed to a thin mattress or bedroll on the floor of the shared sleeping area. This room was nice, private and bright with a balcony. One of the upper rooms he’d never been curious enough to explore during his time there. He’d never wanted to, not even in brief stints of boredom. The unfamiliarity of the place had kept him centered, focused on going home. 

“I have a way back home. Back to the Commonwealth.” He turned back to her and she flinched, eliciting a tilt of his head. “That’s if you wanna go.”

“Course I wanna go.” He stated firmly but not unkindly. He was confused. “Why wouldn’t I wanna go?”

“Seems like you’ve got something here.” Carol released his hand. He thought he caught the shine of a tear as she turned away and stood, approaching the door to the balcony. Arms crossed, she looked out over the place. “Like you have someone.”

Now he was beyond confused. “What the hell’re ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

She looked over her shoulder at him, the sun warming the side of her face in a way that made her look unreal, like a painting that belonged in a museum before the end of the world. She smiled, that same know-it-all grin she had given him when she had suggested he settle down with Connie. “Isabelle. She loves you, you know?” 

“Nah, I don’t know.” He was having trouble keeping his tone level in the face of her assumptions. She turned away again. 

“I could see it back in that office. The way she watched over you, held your hand.” A beat of silence before she sighed heavily. “You told her you loved her.”

Daryl’s face twisted into a grimace, trying to pull together any recollection. He remembered going down, the pain. He remembered Isabelle when he woke. He remembered being consumed by Carol, nothing but her once he had set his eyes on her. 

I love you. Don’t go. 

Shit. “Carol, I—”

She chuckled. “You’ve got nothing to explain to me, Daryl. I’m glad you’ve found happiness.” Her shoulders slumped a little, and he could see the defeat in that posture. “I said I wouldn’t leave without you, but I only meant that if you wanted to leave. You don’t have to leave her. Or the boy.”

He hated letting his silence linger but he needed a moment to get himself off that damn bed. Everything hurt. His body had been given one taste of proper rest and had then decided it liked it and didn’t want to cooperate. Finally, finally, he made it to his feet and limped his way across the distance, stopping just behind her. 

He didn’t touch her even though his body was being drawn to her like a painful magnet. “Wasn’t sayin’ that to her, Carol.” Her back straightened, but she didn’t move. “Look at me.” He wanted to sound sure of himself, had really tried. It still came out as a weak request. Regardless, she turned around, her head bowed. Daryl hooked a finger beneath her chin and guided her up to where his gaze waited, hoped she could read the honesty on his face, the naked longing. “Not to her.”

“Daryl.” The way she said his name both broke his heart and made him shiver, the combination sparking a flame to life beneath the desire that morphed into courage he wasn’t sure he’d ever gather again if he didn’t tell her right that moment. 

“I love you, Carol. S’always been you.” His knuckle caressed her jaw before his palm opened just below it, his large hand cradling the side of her neck while his thumb stroked her cheek. “Wasted so much time, made so many mistakes when I could’a told ya so many years ago. Maybe could’a saved ya some’a the pain ya’ve been through. M’sorry. I was a coward.”

Carol gasped, and even though he’d never taken his eyes off her face, it was as if he was seeing her for the first time. “Daryl Dixon, you are anything but a coward.” She said it with such conviction that he had no choice but to believe it. “You’ve done more for me, for everyone, than any of us ever deserved from you.”

“You deserved it.” He said more forcefully than intended but Carol never even blinked. “Ya deserve everythin’, Carol.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Do I deserve you, Daryl?” 

He snorted weakly. It wasn’t funny but the very idea that she didn’t deserve the entire fucking world was ludicrous to him. “Better than me.”

Carol took that last step forward, pressing them chest to chest, forcing her head back to look at him properly. “There is no better than you.” Her eyes followed her hand as she cupped his cheek, fingers trailing over the stubble and gliding to brush his hair behind his ear before stilling on the side of his neck, almost mirroring the way his hand still laid against her. “I’ve had my man of honor all along.”

It was instantaneous, the way he bowed his head and she tilted hers, their lips coming together in a kiss that was way overdue. It felt electric, the hairs rising on the back of his neck beneath her fingertips. She shivered and sighed into his mouth when his lips parted in invitation, her tongue delving inside with no further prompting. They were moving before he’d even realized it, his limp playing a substantial role in the unsteady course toward the bed. 

Carol fell first, her hold on his biceps dragging him along with her. Daryl caught himself easily enough, keeping his weight off of her but failing miserably in protecting his leg from bumping the mattress. He hissed a breath through his teeth and arched upward to favor the injury while she overflowed with apologies. “M’fine.” He grumbled, taking a moment to allow the ache to subside. When he opened his eyes, crystal blues were trained on him. Her mouth was turned down, worry and disappointment visible enough in the lines. “Said m’fine, Carol.”

“Maybe we should wait.” She hadn’t made a move to shift from beneath but her body was rigid and ready to spring the moment he gave the word.

Daryl shook his head before jerking his chin toward the area above her, silently demanding that she move more onto the mattress. “Waited long enough.” With a curt nod, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and complied, watching him with such intensity as he gingerly followed that it made him slightly uncomfortable. Tilting and holding his weight more on his right side, he lowered to his forearms—his hips settled between her thighs— to press his mouth back against hers. He knew he was already hard, his poor body trying to figure out whether his pulse should be in his injured leg or his throbbing erection. His hopes that she hadn’t noticed were quickly dashed.

He pulled back, breathless, to find her smirking at him. “What?”

“I think we’re entirely overdressed for this occasion.” Rubbing her lips together behind that same smug smile, she snapped one of the suspenders and he dropped his head. He was never living that one down. “We’re going to talk about these later. And by talk, I mean I’m going to tease you until the end of time and you’re going to say stahp on repeat.”

“Shuddup.” He griped through a lopsided smile while pulling up the bottom of her shirt.

Getting undressed was more challenging than it should have been. The wound in his thigh made moving difficult, several colorful words finding their way past his lips. He was pale and sweating, leaning heavily on the wooden nightstand by the time he was down to his underwear. 

“You sure you’re up for this?” Daryl’s eyes lifted to find Carol sitting on her knees, bare save for the modest, mismatched bra and panties hiding the things he wanted to see most. Her eyes skirted down for a moment and then back to his face, that smirk firmly back in place. “Well, parts of you are definitely up for it.”

“You’re killin’ me with the commentary.”

“Sorry, Pookie. Come over here.” She moved back to give him room. “Lie on your back.” Her hands were out, ready to assist if he needed but he wasn’t a fucking invalid. He could manage getting onto a damn mattress.

Maybe.

He groaned once his head hit the pillow, physically and sexually frustrated. He was quite literally aching for her but his body was one giant ball of pain. She noticed his plight. Of course she did. Daryl opened his eyes when he felt her moving beside him and then her hand on his ribs, just over a deep bruise. She had some contusions and lacerations of her own, each with a story he wanted to hear but knew it was not something to ask about at that moment. She was about to give him an out and he wasn’t having it.

“Nah, don’t even.” He shook his head. “Want this, have wanted this. Not willin’ to wait if its what ya want too.” Carol seemed to mull over the words, eyes narrowed but not arguing. He took that as a good sign.

“Fine, but you let me do all the work.” 

His mouth fell open to retort but clicked shut when she leaned over him to press a kiss to the skin above where his pulse raced and then to the front of his throat, dipping her tongue into the hollow between his collarbones. When she shifted to circle the wet muscle around his right nipple, he drew in an unsteady breath, the adrenaline flowing from her attentions giving him both the will and the energy to push her onto her back. Goddamn, that hurt. 

Worth it. 

“I said to let me do all the work!” He was already sitting back, balancing awkwardly on his right knee, and pulling her panties down her slender but strong legs. 

“I didn’t agree to nothin’.” He smirked, hooking a finger beneath the material of the bra, just over her sternum. “Take it off.” He had no idea where this confidence was stemming from but he rode with it, would until it fizzled out. 

“When did you get so bossy?” She quipped, opting to pull the garment over her head in lieu of wasting the time unfastening it. The sight of her breasts had his mouth damn near watering but he had an agenda to keep before his leg gave out completely. 

He fell forward to catch himself with a hand on either side of her hips, wrapped an arm around each thigh to spread her open. 

“You don’t have to do—oh.” Carol collapsed back, her protest forgotten once his mouth descended on her. His tongue pushed through her folds, trusting her reactions more than fearing his own lack of experience. He was nothing if not adaptable. He made note of her cues; each twitch, each sigh. The places that made her hips jolt and the motions that made her keen. When his tongue flicked across a stiff little nub, her hands shot up to twist into his hair. He repeated the action, over and over until her thighs were shaking and his name was a broken prayer from her lips. He had originally planned to bring his fingers into the mix but when she arched off the mattress, singing his praises in a chorus of sounds and words that made no sense, he was almost disappointed not to have the opportunity. 

Well, that time anyway. As long as she was willing, he wanted to explore every inch of her, inside and out. 

He lapped at her languidly, helping her ride out the aftershocks while drinking down her nectar, an exquisite offering he would gladly indulge in as often as she’d allow. He didn’t stop until she pushed him away and pressed her thighs together to smother the sensitivity he’d left behind. 

Balancing just as he had before, he grinned and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Told ya I’d go down first.” The way her eyes widened and her mouth fell open was plenty enough reward for his lame attempt at a joke. 

“You are unbelievable.” She laughed, actually covered her flushed face with both hands and laughed. He could only watch her with a fond smile for a moment longer before his leg waved the white flag. 

“Ah, fuck.” His tumble to the pillow beside her was anything but graceful. His arm was thrown over his eyes, his way of shielding himself from what would likely be disappointment on her face. That, and if he looked at the pale skin of her breasts with those dusty rose nipples, he thought he just might really embarrass himself. 

“Are you okay?” There was residual laughter in her voice. The mattress moved as she shifted next to him, her curves pressed to his side in a way that made him groan. 

“No.” He sighed. After years of skirting around their love for one another, he was finally where he was meant to be and he couldn’t perform for her. Not for the reasons some men his age couldn’t, no, he was definitely not inept in that department. His cock was painfully hard and with very little persuasion. He was injured and it was just too painful to give her everything he wanted to, show her exactly how she made him feel. 

Carol’s small, warm hand came to rest on his stomach, her fingers kneading the skin there, softened by time but still covering strong, capable muscles. The contact was nice, a balm to the fresh burns of his own self-deprecation. 

“Daryl.”

“Hmm?”

“Stop that.”

He lifted his arm to peer from beneath it, not moving it away entirely. “Stop what?” Carol ducked below that same arm for a chaste kiss, hovering there with her thumb stroking his bottom lip. 

“Doubting that you can please me.” God, she could read him like a book. “You just did something no one else has been able to do. Ever.” He let the barrier between them fall away completely then, his hand coming to rest on her bare hip. 

“No one’s ever—?” His eyes flickered down in broad indication of their lower halves. Carol chuckled. 

“No, that’s happened.” She clarified. Daryl waited, arching a scarred brow while his fingers drummed on her skin when she simply remained silent. 

“You’re usually ‘bout as subtle as a shotgun. Can ya at least pretend to acknowledge that m’clueless here an’ throw me a bone?” The second the words left his mouth, he knew he’d opened himself up for another teasing retort and shut her down before the smirk could even fully form. “Not one word.”

Carol ran her pinched fingers across her lips as if closing a zipper, that same hand then finding its way to his forehead to brush back his unruly hair. “No one’s ever—got me there without my—” Daryl squinted and followed her hand as she made a vague gesture while trying to find the right word, “participation.” And then she waited while his head tilted and he pieced together what she was trying to say, nodding with a smile the moment she saw it click. 

“Well, least I did somethin’ right.” He shrugged a single shoulder.

“You do a lot of things right, Daryl. They may not be in the category of sexually intimate but they’re just as important, if not more so.” Before he could object or even move to stop her, Carol was straddling his shins and pulling down his faded boxer-briefs. 

She knew what she was doing. He was much too focused on the damp heat he could feel hovering above his skin to realize that she was stripping him bare. When his brain finally caught up, Daryl fisted the duvet to avoid the strong urge to cover himself. He had never really worried about his size before, never had a reason to feel inferior. Now he was on display in front of the woman he loved and he couldn’t get it out of his mind that he wasn’t enough for her in absolutely every way.

“Daryl.” That was a warning tone if he’d ever heard one. He forced himself to relax. If Carol had a problem, she’d tell him. He trusted her to do that. Swallowing hard, he watched her crawl back up to sit beside his hip, her gaze not on his obvious need for her but on the square of gauze taped to his left thigh. “Always giving for everyone else.” Her tone was distant, laced with sadness as her fingertips hovered over the bandage. Just like that, her focus was back on him, the smile back on her face. “Now will you let me do all the heavy lifting?”

Daryl snorted at the phrasing, earning an arched brow. “Fine.” He grunted. Blue eyes shot wide when Carol wasted not a single second in throwing her leg over him to straddle his hips. He wasn’t sure when he had grabbed hold of her thighs but he was squeezing for dear life to keep himself in check. She was holding herself over him in a way that he could see the slick glistening on the tuft of hair just above where his cock was hovering over his lower abdomen. If she touched him at the moment, he was coming apart and he knew it. “Won’t—ain’t gonna last, Carol.”

“I know.” Her voice was soft, her eyes overflowing with a million emotions that he couldn’t name but the ones he could calmed his anxiety almost instantaneously: love and acceptance. He knew both to be true already. She had always loved him in some way from the moment he had handed her that pickaxe, just as he had loved her. They had accepted one another, faults and strengths, broken pieces and methods of mending. It’s why he was always drawn to her; why he trusted her when he was hurting.

The moment her fingers touched the velvety skin of his cock, Daryl went rigid, wound tighter than an eight day clock. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to cum before he even had the chance to be inside of her. It was unnerving, the effect she had on him. 

“Relax.” Carol cooed. Easier said than done. She didn’t tease him, though it was quite apparent she wanted to, a frustrated restraint in the beautiful lines on her face. His hand was on her cheek before he realized he had even lifted his arm. 

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, watching in awe as she bowed over him to bring their mouths together, entrancing him with a kiss while shifting his cock to notch against her entrance. His gasp was swallowed eagerly, his tip stretching her open, his hands fumbling for her hips. “Fuck. Fuck.” Every word brushed against her lips while he filled his mind with anything and everything to keep from filling her that very moment. Walkers. Saviors. Fuck, even Mercer made an appearance with that expression of disappointment that was followed up with a reprimand. 

She sank another inch, then another, and another until she was flush against his pelvis, her ass tilted to keep any pressure off his injured thigh. 

“Gimme—goddamn, gimme a minute.” And she did, occupying herself with tracing the lines on his face, his scars, his collarbones. It was barely working for her, the fluttering of her walls around him making his hips jerk. 

She bent down to nuzzle her cheek against his, the shift in angle prompting a sound from him that he wasn’t aware he could even make. “Please,” was all she said and he couldn’t deny her, he had spent too many years doing that trying to keep her safe, to try and choose her path for her when the easiest one would have led them to each other all along. 

Fingers flexing on her hips, he encouraged her to begin rocking, the groans leaving both their throats were sinful. If any sisters overheard, they had surely fallen to their knees in prayer. It didn’t take long for him to pull her higher, closer, allowing his lips to finally indulge in a pale pink nipple while his hips lifted to meet each of her downward pushes. Sucking and flicking his tongue over the pebbled nub, his other hand massaging the otherwise neglected breast with movements somewhere between desperate and tender. 

The breathy call of his name was enough to assure him that he was doing things right. Still, the sudden buzz at the base of his spine brought everything to a level of urgency. There was no time to revel in how beautiful she looked bouncing over him, her head thrown back with breathy gasps of ah ah ah yes oh my god. He was close and by fuck, he was taking her there first. 

Finding her swollen clit was simple from this position, the angle of her hips and his cock splitting her open had the little bundle of nerves pushed out. A large hand splayed over her lower abdomen, his thumb flicked over her and then pressed firmly to rub tight circles. “Need ya to let go, Carol. Need to feel ya.” He was barely hanging on, his hips already losing any rhythm. 

“Oh god, Daryl, I—” She clung to him, nails biting into his chest as her body spasmed.  Her cunt hugged him tight, squeezing and milking until he shouted hoarsely, his single grasp on her hip, holding her still through the initial waves, the contractions of her inner walls pulling each warm rope of him deeper and deeper inside. 

Urgency softened into lazy thrusts and gentle rocking, his hands on her sides squeezing with reach aftershock. He knew the shame and embarrassment would come soon enough but for that moment, he simply watched her with hooded eyes. Her breaths were shallow but quick though the slightest partition of her pouty lips. Her eyes were closed, brows raised ever so slightly. The agonizingly slow rhythm of rising up and sinking back down as she continued to pulse around his softening cock was mesmerizing. Overstimulated as he was, each movement making him fight a jolt, he couldn’t tell her to stop. He wouldn’t. She was too beautiful soaking up that pleasure, the limited bliss he was able to give her. 

“Daryl.” She breathed with a smile, eyes still closed. He slipped out of her when she fell to his chest, her face immediately burying in his neck. Just as the shame began to crest, her lips pressed against his pulse point. “I want to do that again and again. You made me feel so good. God, it’s never been like that.”

He reared back and angled his head to see her, content and smiling into his skin. “You shittin’ me?”

“Nope.” She still straddled him, wiggling and slithering her arms underneath his back to press herself closer. “You make me feel new again.”

“Was like—a minute an’ a half at best.”

Carol chuckled. “This time. Next time, you’ll give me a run for my money. Unless you’ve been making the French women say oui oh mon Dieu, it’s been years for you.”

“Don’t wanna know what that means but I ain’t made ‘em say nothin’.” He wasn’t offended, knew she was jesting, but he still felt bad. Still felt like she could do better. He could only offer her a broken man who was mediocre in bed. He had made her wait until they were older and worn. 

“If I have to say stop that one more time, I swear, Daryl Dixon—”

“Ya threatening me?” He shot back playfully, out of reflex. “Just—Carol, ya—”

“Do you know what a refractory period is, Daryl?” Carol folded her arms on his chest, rested her chin on them. 

“Pfft, course I do.” He didn’t. 

She smirked, pushing her ass back against his cock. He was half hard in an instant. His fingers pressed into her ribs, a groan pressing eagerly against the back of his teeth. “Well, yours is impressive.”

“Thank you?” Carol laughed, Daryl sighed. He was just lost in her joyful sounds, the lines on her face that came with age and not pain. “Are ya mine, Carol?” He blurted out, it was unintentional but he didn’t want to take it back, even when he tasted her tears as she kissed him. 

“I’m yours. Are you mine?” 

“Always have been.” She was laughing when she buried her face in his shoulder again but it was different. It was relief, a gratefulness for something desired for too long, regret for time wasted, and excitement for things to come. Daryl pressed his face into her hair, inhaling the scent of home. His heart echoed all that she was expressing and then some. He didn’t believe in god, not even after his time with nuns and prophets, but something or someone had given him his Carol, and he silently thanked them. 

When she finally pulled away and sat up wiping at her red rimmed eyes, he lifted a hand to help, swiping his thumb over her cheek. Of course, Carol being Carol, she wiggled her ass on top of his cock, bringing him to fully hard in no time flat. “Let’s spend a little more time making the nuns blush.”

Daryl chuckled. “Alright. After that,” he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his, each syllable a whisper against her lips, “an’ then we fuckin’ go home.”

Carol nodded. “Then we fuckin’ go home.”

[kit-williams]

Cuckoo Anon

Oh you bet your Chain Axe I Do! Had to stop last night because tired but I've got pretty good ideas for some other legions reactions to getting yoinked from their original timeline.

Disclaimer: Apologies if your fav legion doesn't appear here I only know enough about so many of them.

Word Bearers - Another group that's more Aware that the warp has something to do with this, though less able to actively affect it than say the Thousand Sons. Definitely in the group that Wants to establish contact with their original timeline because there's so many souls here in need of the warp's guidance. Until they're able to do that, they spend there time pouring over the various religious texts available here. Would speak up at a theology lecture to correct the speaker about the details of certain figures that they've actually met in their original timeline. Example: Nurgle. They also enjoy yoga for its meditative quality, though its less enjoyable for even the most yoga obsessed humans. The Word Bearers pair yoga with dark ritualistic chanting. Even in Gothic the humans recognize the words are...a bit unsettling.

Rating: Suddenly finding yourself running a...more intense version of a Bible camp as your Word Bearer instructs his group on the proper alignment of ritual circles with the Stars for their next venture. You just hope none of these will ever involve blood sacrifices.

War Hounds/World Eaters - Cut from the same cloth, even stitched with the same pins. Like the Iron Warriors these guys are actually Thriving (as much as they can) in this new environment. You'd think with everything being softened and pacified by the warp they'd go raving mad. But no, because that includes their nails and bloodlust. The nails still hurt, but its like a toothache most days compared to feeling like your brain is being stabbed. And they still crave battle, but there's sparring arenas and Astarte focused gyms in practically every city and marine base here. Plus the occasional chance to Really let loose on some human killer warbands. And if a Marine is sick of their nails completely they can be Removed! The instrument of their torment can be done away with (Chronic pain and migraines remain for most of them but again, far less pain than once was). This new clarity gives them room to reflect. The empire and chaos only found them useful when they were Hurting and Angry constantly. They were never allowed to be anything else. But with the humans here, especially with bonds that can sooth the nails completely, they finally can just....be.

Rating: Laying your head across your bonded humans lap with a fire crackling on a cold night. The scars from the nails twinge for a moment, causing you to hiss. Until your human coos, brushing the hair from your forehead, and at once the pain cools to nothing. You settle, not sure if you deserve this but decide you will accept it. You lean into your humans touch. You are both content.

Space Wolves - If War Hounds are the abused pups learning to love again, Space Wolves are the...Wolves learning to trust/work with humans for the first time. Space Wolves had interactions with humans in their timeline, but only those on their own planet would treat them like normal people. Everywhere else humans saw them as the Emperors Angels. Dangerous and Untouchable. So to have these humans approach them like neither of those groups kinda throws them off. They're not Afraid of them in a broad sense, but they're also not familiar enough yet. The two are finding their footing with eachother. Having a dog gets immediate points with a Space Wolf, they love pups. All shapes and kinds but they obvious lean towards more wolf like breeds. By the same token Space Wolves don't tolerate animal abuse. Any marine type Might decide to kill an animal abuser, a Space Wolf won't hesitate. If you're lucky they'll just steal neglected animals and leave the abuser with some property damage. At worst well...you get the idea.

Rating: Opening up that animal rehab shelter you've always wanted to Not because you thought you were finally  ready...but because your Space Wolf keeps bringing home strays, and neglected animals. But hey, seeing your big guy happily laying in a swarm of pups makes it all worth it. And the time you saw him literally send an abusive owner flying into your trash can for trying to take their dog back.

Death Guard - Weird idea, but they're doing okay. It's just that most of them are feral by choice rather than the Alpha legion's situation. The warp may make their haze of rot less dangerous here, but being near one is still Alot for an average human. Also the cities don't have enough Greenery. So the ferals stick to the forests and overgrown areas. Their presence boosts the cycles of life and decay, and they actually Clean!?!? Well yes, the litter and plastic trash, anything biodegradable can stay...or gets eaten. Yep I see Death Guard as the vultures or millipedes of space marines. They can eat Anything organic, and they enjoy the more fetid pieces. Many humans have been startled to find their garbage being raided after some spoiled leftovers were thrown out. And as far as personality goes they're actually pretty gentle. They see no reason to attack humans, they're natural miasma is still imparting the gifts of Nurgle occasionally so why bother? If a Death Guard bonds to a human that bond is deep and loving. The bond also helps their human resist their smell, and makes the human stronger against the illness miasma. Its not a perfect defense, energy still gets drained, but your Death Guard will always be there to lend a hand, claw, bone growth to help when you need it.

Rating: Hiking through the forest, and suddenly catching an awful smell. Your curiosity bids you follow it, lest it be a hiker that met an ill fate. As you get closer the greenery around you seems to grow larger, and more beautiful with every step. Literally bursting with life. You come to a small open area beneath the trees. The smell is strongest here, and you see a large misshapen green body. It raises its cupped hands, that hold something you can't identify, to a branch. A flower bud slowly opens to full and....a Butterfly flits to the new bloom from his palms. You stand in awe. The shape turns as you watch from behind a tree, your eyes meet through his helmet. You just...stare at eachother. And though you don't notice at the time, the scent no longer has presence in your mind.

Alpha Legion - (Only fitting that I finish off with the legion that gave me my name.) So honestly...kinda struggling. These fellas are so used to spying, and secrecy and playing games of 12D chess (even though doing that wasn't the best choice to begin with but I digress) and now they've been dropped in a place that has...none of that?? They're separated from their spy networks, no matter what side of their Timeline they were fighting on they only really have eachother now. The other legions are Very unwilling to trust them for obvious reasons. And they have a shit time making bonds with humans. Like seriously, f their lives right up. Like at least when they were just a cog in a clusterfuck of war, alliances, battles and betrayals, they didn't have to think and reflect about how Lonely they actually are. But...on the other hand, they're free to do as they please here. Sure the other marines are wary of them, but as long as they don't outright start shit things can go on tense but peaceful. Occasionally snatching some affection while disguised is okay, but still...they want something real. And when they do get that, whether the bond is truly like their fellow marines or slightly different, they Don't let go.

Rating: You came home to an Ultramarine in your house, only it didn't really...act like an ultra marine? It took no interest when you showed it your excel documents, didn't try to organize anything, and shied away from conversing with other loyalists. He Did help you out around the house, and was exceptionally affectionate. Most marines were some flavor of touch starved (except maybe Salamanders), but this seemed excessive. Then one night you woke up, and heard hushed but intense whispering. You peaked out of your bedroom to see your Ultramarine conversing with....himself!? Your eyes did not deceive, and your ears did not lie. Same voice, same armor, down to the same scratches and battle damage...but that was impossible! Your musings were interrupted by one of them getting louder.

"It is still My turn with the mortal!"

"You expanded your timetable in the schedule. That is Unfair brother, and you know it."

"This is not up for discussion, and You cannot be here right now! Do you want us to be thrown out completely!?"

"Maybe if we were simply Honest with them we wouldn't have to worry about that, but You insisted we stick to this charade. Well I'm SICK of it!" The ultra on the right lost his composure, and his form phased and shifted. Royal blue became teal and the helmet shifted to a form more resembling an octopus. An Alpha Legion marine...but that would mean...

The one you assumed to be Your marine spoke up. "Enough! I will not tolerate your insubordination! Leave now!"

The newly shifted marine stood his ground and sneered. "Why don't you Make me brother?!"

"Or you could....Both stay?" The two marines whipped their heads to face you. You stood in your pajamas, as the two armored marines stared in stunned silence.

"I...can explain." Your marine started, but you held up your hand.

"Its okay," You assured him, crossing the distance so you could look him in the eye.  "We do need to talk things over but...I think I understand why you felt you needed to do this." You turned to his brother. " Should've let me know we were having company. I think we could all use some hot chocolate."

Your second space marine perked up. "I hope you have enough supplies for us all."

"Two space marines and a human you mean?"

"Weeeeeell...." Knock, knock, knock. You turned to the door, and your space marine let his disguise shed as he reached for the handle. The door opened to reveal...1,2,3,4...yeah you were gonna need more hot chocolate.

Love these I really do you're making me blush

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Playing a little game with the HOTD S2 teaser trailer called "can I identify scenes". Nothing but spoilers (major, major spoilers) under the cut:

Rhaenyra at Storm's End looking for Luke's body, as reported in leaks.

Stokeworth and Rosby shields - this is the Sack of Duskendale / Battle at Rook's Rest. From leaks (re what happens to Meleys, um) we know that BRR is this season, probably near the end of it.

Criston cutting some guy's head off - possibly the execution of Lord Staunton after the battle of Rook's Rest. Staunton's head and Meleys's head were taken to KL and paraded.

may be Nettles, but I think more likely to be Addam of Hull, as that's Seasmoke.

It's a bit blurry, but pretty sure those are Darklyn shields. (<nerd> incorrect Darklyn shields, too many white shields for this point in history, they haven't had that many Darklyns in the Kingsguard yet.</nerd>) More from the Sack of Duskendale/Battle of Rook's Rest.

Possibly executions during Daemon's Assault on Harrenhal? Although that was Aemond who killed the Strongs in F&B... that's definitely a weirwood, though... but then, most castles have weirwoods, not just Harrenhal. Could also be part of the Taking of Stone Hedge.

Something in the North, almost certainly, but not sure what. Maybe the Winter Wolves leaving?

Seasmoke's back, back again. Rumors are that Laenor just gives him up or something? Lore nerds will freak ("a dragon never has two living riders!"), but babes, this is where you have to just relax and remember the show is not the books.

Nice establishing shot of the Dragonpit. The Storming will not be this season, but it'll be useful to compare once the show gets there.

This is either Prince Jaehaerys' funeral or the parade after Rook's Rest, but I think that's the carriage that was carrying Alicent and Helaena in mourning clothes (as seen in leaks), so possibly the former. OTOH leaks had a drum being beaten while Meleys's head was paraded, so it might be the latter. We'll see I guess!

Probably at Rook's Rest, trying to get the fuck away from Meleys's fire.

speaking of which. Rosby shields on the ground, that early scene where they were standing is probably right before Rhaenys and Meleys arrived.

yay Baela gets to do something. Wonder if she arrives at BRR too late to help, but in time to see Rhaenys's body? Would be a good setup for her and Aegon later.

KG doing the Secret Service thing with Alicent. Some kind of public panic, this may be in relation to the Meleys parade because the book says it made everyone want to leave KL, so they may have changed that up a bit.

Brackens, probably the Battle of the Burning Mill / Taking of Stone Hedge.

Assault on Harrenhal, probably.

well we all know what this is. 😭

ah shit, Erryk fighting in someone's bedroom? Cargyll twin vs twin, probably, I knew it was early in the war, but I liked him. 😔

Not screencapping this bit, but the cut that makes it look like Aemond is fighting Rhaenyra on their dragons is oh-so-clever to play with audience expectations.

Rook's Rest, the ground is all smoky because of Meleys, and shit here comes Vhagar to make it worse.

A few scenes I have no idea what's happening yet, like the Helaena underwater scene and Alicent in her nightgown at the Gods Eye... are we getting dream scenes at last? Would be a nice changeup. Could be POV prophecies also. Well, looking forward to it!

edit to correct: Helaena's not underwater, that's a veil, undoubtedly a mourning veil. 😭