#pray flight not in winter

[scripture-pictures]

[skellagirl]

Back in winter 2022 I started working on a comic of one of my favorite nsfw oneshots, Practical Demonstration, made like five pages, and then promptly dropped it cause I was still in the midst of Art Block From Hell, among other reasons

but the fic series recently got an update and I read it on a flight last week, which has renewed the brainworms :)

The comic's FAR from finished (I've thumbnailed the entire thing and it comes out to twenty-eight pages, while I have thirteen of those pages in varying stages of completion) but I've been having a lot of fun working on it and forcing myself to try and learn new things (backgrounds/environments, in this case) in the pursuit of Harvey Smut LOL

I thought I'd post some WIP shit here, in case ADHD gets my ass and I end up dropping it again 😭 pray for me

[callsign-mayhem]

heartbreak feels so good (part 1)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 8081 CW: Shitty boyfriends, angst, fluff, slow burn.

Your boyfriend's callsign is Viper, which is fitting. Bradley doesn't know how much longer he can watch this man destroy you, but luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long.

Use of Y/N, but no description of reader. THIS IS A MULTI-PART FIC.

Part Two Part Three

After another day of having your feelings totally ignored by your boyfriend, you were looking forward to some alone time. Elijah was so hot and cold that you felt as though you were in a constant state of fight or flight, just waiting for him to either make your day or ruin it completely. Most of the time, it was the latter, and although good days with him were few and far between, they were enough to make you stay. See, you didn’t half-ass anything—least of all relationships—so when you were in something, you were in it. You told Elijah that much after your first date. You’d been sitting in the front of his beemer eating ice cream, having the first of many deep talks. Between sweet, sticky kisses, you’d told him that you were dating to marry. He told you he was, too. 

He said, ‘I’m yours if you’ll have me, Y/N.’ And that was that.

And it was almost a year ago. You’d survived a somewhat tumultuous winter with him, desperately trying to cling on to the version of him he’d been during the summer. As time went on, he stopped putting his mask on, secure enough in your relationship that he no longer felt the need to pretend to be caring and considerate. The days were starting to get longer, and the weather was warming up again, but Elijah was so far from the man he was at the start that you might as well have been in a relationship with a different person. Every morning, you woke up with no idea what personality to expect that day, whether or not he was going to take all his personal drama out on you, even though you only ever loved and supported him. 

Today had been one of those days, and as you finished up with the F-18 engine currently in pieces in front of you, you silently prayed that he wouldn’t text you asking to come over. He was also a naval aviator, but you were working on different parts of the base today. Thank God. Elijah’s callsign was Viper, fitting since vipers prey on small animals by envenomating them and watching them die slowly. 

Coyote appeared behind you, helmet tucked underneath his arm.

‘Hey, we’re all heading to The Hard Deck for beers,’ he told you. ‘You comin’?’ You grabbed a rag and made an attempt to wipe some of the oil off. ‘I don’t know,’ you sighed. ‘I want to, but then I’ll have to bring Elijah, and I don’t really wanna see him tonight.’ ‘Why do you have to bring him?’ Coyote frowned. ‘He’s a lousy drunk and never lets you have any fun.’ ‘If he finds out I went out with all you guys, he’ll think I’m up to something.’ ‘Like gettin’ with me?’ He joked, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘Probably,’ you laughed. ‘You or one of the others. Or maybe he’ll accuse me of getting with all of you if he’s in a particularly bad mood.’ ‘Listen, if you wanna come, you’re welcome. We’ll just make sure nobody posts about it, and we’ll get you a fake moustache or somethin’.’

It broke your heart to think about all your closest friends having a fun night without you. Over the past year, you’d lost count of the amount of experiences you’d missed out on because you didn’t want to make Elijah upset or angry with you. The worst part was it was a double standard. He went out without you all the time, didn’t tell you where he’d gone or who he was with, and expected you to be okay with it. If you weren’t, you could kiss your peace goodbye; he’d spend the next week making your life a living hell, ignoring you entirely until you apologised to him for being hurt by his actions.

‘You know what Javy? Count me in.’ He grinned. ‘Thatta girl.’ 

It was hard to regret coming out when you felt this good. It had been months since you’d gone on a night out without Elijah, which was to say it had been months since you last enjoyed yourself. As you sipped your second sex on the beach, you mused that some kind of higher power must have been looking out for you because you’d yet to receive a single text from your boyfriend. Most of the time, when you spent the night apart, he’d call you incessantly. It was annoying, sometimes bordering on obsessive, and you didn’t need him to tell you he was checking on you, or rather, checking that you were alone in your apartment. That much was obvious. 

Dating an insecure man was not for the weak.

You were sat at one of the high tables next to the window watching Jake, Mickey, Javy, and Reuben play pool. Nat was opposite nursing a beer, glowing in the golden light of the evening. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, smiling at the notification. 

‘Rooster’s on his way,’ she told you. ‘He wasn’t gonna come out tonight, but I told him he didn’t have a choice. It’s not every day Y/N Y/L/N leaves the comfort of her apartment.’ You scoffed. ‘That’s not exactly how I’d put it.’ ‘No?’ Nat raised a brow. 

You hadn’t drunk in months, and despite only being on your second drink, the booze had loosened your lips significantly. 

‘No. It’s not that I’d rather stay home, it’s that staying home makes my life easier because then I don’t have Elijah breathing down my fucking neck.’

Little did you know, Javy had told everyone about your conversation earlier. Not because he was a gossip but because he was worried about you. It was rare for you to open up to the squad about your relationship, but it wasn’t hard to guess what happened behind closed doors. They all worked with Viper, for one, and they were familiar with his temperament. Not only that, but you dropped off the face of the Earth a few months after you started dating him, and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

‘I don’t know why you’re still with him, Y/N. He’s an ass.’ ‘I know,’ you sighed, frowning into your drink. ‘It’s just not as straightforward as just leaving. I still love him. If I can make this work, I don’t have to start all over again with someone else.’ Nat nodded in understanding. ‘I get wanting to make it work, but at what cost? You don’t see your friends, and he uses you as an emotional punching bag. You can’t even come to the beach with us without him checking on you every five minutes,’ she reached over the table and took your hand. ‘He’s killing you.’

This was the first time someone had spoken their mind to you about the situation. While you already knew all of it, hearing it from one of your best friends hit home. Vodka made you emotional, and if not for Bradley, you would have broken down there and then. 

He walked up to the table and engulfed you in a hug, practically pulling you off your stool. You pressed your face into his shirt, inhaling the scent of clean cotton and sandalwood. Half expecting Elijah to spring out and catch you in the act, you reluctantly pulled away. 

‘Hey, Bradley.’ ‘Hey yourself, stranger. Can’t believe you’re gracing us with your presence.’ ‘I know, it’s been a while.’ ‘A while? Try six months,’ he glanced at your almost empty glass and Nat’s empty bottle of Heineken. ‘Can I buy you lovely ladies a drink?’ ‘Do you even have to ask?’ Nat retorted.  ‘What’re you drinking, darlin’?’ He asked you. You smiled sheepishly. ‘Sex on the beach.’  ‘I can make that happen.’ He smirked.

Luckily, you didn’t have to come up with a response to that remark because he turned around and headed to the bar. You locked eyes with Nat, and both of you burst out laughing.

Just like that, all the negativity you’d been feeling dissipated like rain against hot tarmac. 

Bradley came back with the drinks, and the three of you took the opportunity to catch up while the others finished their pool game. You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were to find out that you’d missed a lot. Bradley had started dating one of the medics, but the relationship had crashed and burned almost immediately. He hadn’t bothered trying to meet anyone else since. Nat, after watching all her friends have such bad experiences in the dating world, had decided she was better off alone. 

‘Honestly, I don’t blame you.’ You told her. ‘You should dump Viper,’ she said with a devilish grin. ‘And we can have a hot girl summer.’ Bradley laughed. ‘Can’t say I ever imagined you saying that, Nix.’  ‘Isn’t that what it’s called now? We can’t be that out of touch, surely.’ ‘I don’t wanna think about how old I am.’ You said, picking up your phone to see if you’d missed any texts from Elijah. You hated to think what kind of argument missing one of his calls would start.  Nat and Rooster shared a knowing look. ‘It rings, you know? Out loud.’

Being this transparent was embarrassing. 

‘I think I’m going to confiscate this for now.’ Ignoring your protests, Bradley swiped your phone and tucked it into his pocket. ‘If he calls or texts, I’ll let you know.’

You were tipsy enough not to try and take your phone back but not tipsy enough to be unbothered by the idea of Elijah calling and you not picking up.

‘If he calls, I need it back straight away,’ you told him sternly. ‘If I don’t pick up, I’ll never hear the end of it.’

Bradley rolled his eyes, but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. He hated Elijah the most of all your friends. Perhaps sensing some tension, Nat slid off her stool and grabbed your arm, practically yanking you off yours.

‘Let’s go pick a song,’ she suggested. ‘We can get more drinks on the way back.’

Since it had been so long since you last visited The Hard Deck, she let you choose. You picked Rebel Yell by Billy Idol, your mum’s favourite. Admittedly, you’d been missing your home town a lot more than usual lately, perhaps because you were in such a weird place mentally. Things must be worse than you thought if you were considering running home with your tail between your legs. 

As the night went on, you got drunker and drunker. Bradley watched with a bemused grin as you dragged Bob off to the jukebox again, since he was the easiest person to coerce into doing things. How Bradley wished it was him you were clinging to. Not that he was jealous of Bob—because that would be like being jealous of a puppy—he just desperately wanted to be the object of your affection. 

While you and Bob went to change the music, Bradley struck up a conversation with Natasha and Reuben, who erupted into laughter when you pulled Bob’s arm so hard he almost toppled over. 

‘It’s nice to have Y/N out, huh?’ He observed. Nat looked at him like he was the biggest dickhead in the world. ‘Come on, Bradshaw. He might be an ass, but she’s got a boyfriend.’

Bradley sipped his beer, desperately trying to come up with a believable response. Reuben smirked knowingly, which only made Bradley more annoyed.

‘I don’t have a thing for Y/N.’ ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, man.’ ‘Come on, Payback. You too?’ Reuben shrugged. ‘Doesn’t take a genius to work it out. You look at her like she’s God’s gift.’

The reason Bradley looked at you like you were God’s gift is because you were, but nobody was supposed to know that. 

‘Why do women stay with guys that treat them like shit?’ Bradley asked. ‘Depends on the woman,’ Natasha started. ‘But if you mean Y/N, it’s because she can’t do anything halfway. She told me earlier that it’s because she doesn’t want to start over with someone new, but I don’t think that’s it. She just loves so hard, and it takes a lot out of her. Why would she wanna start the process all over again if she already has someone?’ Bradley was incredulous. ‘Erm, I don’t know, maybe because he’s emotionally abusing her.’

You and Nat were close. In a way, she knew you better than you knew yourself, so she was the best person for Bradley to ask about things. Now, however, he was kind of regretting opening his mouth. Knowing why you were staying with a guy who treated you so badly didn’t make it easier to accept like Bradley thought it would; it only filled him with white-hot rage. 

‘It’s not as easy as just leaving. She has to come to it on her own.’ ‘Yeah,’ Reuben chimed in. ‘You can’t convince Y/N of shit.’ Natasha scoffed. ‘Yup, and believe me, I’ve tried.’  ‘So what, we just sit around and watch him ruin her?’ ‘Y/N’s a smart cookie and one of the strongest people I know. She’ll come to her senses, and when she does, we’ll be here.’ ‘You know, I read somewhere once that you can’t save anyone. You can only hold their hand while they save themselves.’ Nat raised a brow. ‘Damn, Payback. That might be the wisest thing you’ve ever said.’ ‘Hey, why do you sound so surprised?’ ‘You really want me to answer that?’

Bradley had a lot to think about. Realistically, he knew there was nothing he could do. His only option was to let things unfold naturally and have faith that things would work out exactly the way they were supposed to. The only problem was, that sounded too much like ‘sit back and do nothing,’ which didn’t feel right either. 

Bradley needed another drink. 

In fact, he was just about to head to the bar when you came bounding over, dragging poor Bob behind you. 

‘Roooooooooster.’ You cooed.

His heart just about melted when you started batting your eyelashes at him. 

‘What’s up, Y/CS?’

Everyone else was watching the interaction expectantly, waiting to hear what you were going to say next. 

‘You’re really pretty.’ Bradley laughed, hoping you were too drunk to notice the blush he could feel creeping across his cheeks. ‘Thank you. You’re really pretty, too.’ Nat, sensing the need to intervene, came around and gently grabbed your arm. ‘Hey, let’s get you a glass of water, huh?’ ‘But I need to tell Roo how pretty he looks.’

Bradley’s heart fluttered at your use of the pet name. He really didn’t want you to leave, but Nat was right. You needed some water and probably your bed. 

‘You told him already, Y/N. And when you get back, you can tell him again.’

She started leading you away, and Bradley immediately missed your presence. 

A very flushed-looking Bob took Nat’s empty stool. ‘That girl is somethin’ else.’ He murmured, pushing his glasses back up his nose. ‘I don’t think you should let her drink anymore.’ ‘I’m not her keeper,’ Bradley responded. ‘Can’t stop her from doing anything.’ Bob shrugged. ‘Maybe so, but you’re all she talked about. You and the fact that there’s no Fall Out Boy in the jukebox. Pretty sure she called it a ‘fucking tragedy.’’  Bradley leaned forward. ‘What did she say about me?’ ‘You know,’ Bob waved a hand dismissively. ‘You’re pretty. Her boyfriend is gonna kill her if he finds out she’s here with you because he thinks you have a thing for her.’ Bradley was at a loss for words. Reuben, however, was grinning like a fool. ‘What was that about not having a thing for her? Even her boyfriend’s caught on, man.’  ‘How many times do I have to say I do not have a thing for-’

An annoyingly loud ringing sound interrupted Bradley’s sentence. It didn’t sound like his ringtone, but the noise was coming from his pocket. It took him too long to remember that he had your phone in his pocket, and that it was probably Viper calling. Sure enough, when he took out your phone, he was greeted by a sickeningly sweet photo of you and your boyfriend on the beach. You and Nat were still at the bar, and he knew he should just let it ring so you could call him back later. 

But something had a hold of Bradley, and he answered the call and pressed the phone to his ear before he could really process what he was doing. 

‘Y/N’s phone.’ 

A beat of silence, then some of the most colourful language Bradley had ever heard in his life. 

‘Who the fuck is this, and why the fuck have you got my girlfriend’s phone?’  ‘Y/N can’t come to the phone right now. She’s at the bar with her friend, gettin’ another round of drinks, and I just know hearing your voice would ruin her night. It’s ruined mine, that’s for sure. If you want, I can take a message, and she’ll get back to you in the morning.’

Reuben was nearly on the floor, trying desperately not to laugh in case Viper heard him. Bob had paled significantly, like he’d seen a ghost—or worse. 

‘That you, Bradshaw? I just knew something was going on-’

Bradley hung up. The severity of the situation was beginning to hit, and despite the sick satisfaction he’d felt when he picked up the phone, he was regretting his decision already. 

‘Y/N is gonna kill you, Rooster.’ Bob told him. 

Nat made the sensible decision to cut you off, but she said you could stay out with them until closing if you promised to keep drinking water and stop fucking around with the jukebox. That was how you ended up in the corner of a booth with Bradley next to you to stop you from escaping.

Not that you’d want to escape. 

Mickey had joined, and the guys were playing cards while you and Nat talked. She was catching you up on her life, and it made a change to think about someone other than Elijah for once.

That’s when it hit you.

You hadn’t checked your phone in hours, and you dreaded to think how many texts and calls you’d missed. 

‘Bradley, can I have my phone?’

He set his hand of cards down on the table and reached into his pocket. When you reached out to take it, he pulled away.

‘Before I give this to you, I need to tell you something.’

A wave of nausea hit you. 

‘What? What’s going on?’ ‘Viper called about an hour ago. You were at the bar, and I didn’t know what to do, so I answered it.’ Reuben leaned forward in his seat. ‘Oh, this is about to be good.’

You thought you knew what panic felt like, but up until this very moment, you had no idea. Bradley was lucky you didn’t throw up in his lap from the nerves.

‘What?’ ‘I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t thinking-’

You snatched your phone from him, ignoring the kicked-puppy expression he was sporting. A slew of angry text messages that were borderline abusive greeted you. You skimmed them quickly, not wanting to read too many in case you started crying in front of the entire squad. 

What started out as the best night you’d had in a while quickly turned into the worst. Your boyfriend's hateful messages reminded you why you never went out and why this was the biggest mistake you could have made.

The worst part was you saw it coming.

‘Move,’ you said, grabbing your bag. ‘Bradley, let me out now.’ ‘You can’t drive like this, Y/N. Let one of us take you home.’

Bradley sounded destroyed. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

‘Move.’

He nudged Bob, who stood up so Bradley could climb out of the booth. You were close behind him, and when your feet touched the floor, you nearly keeled over. Bradley reached out to steady you, but you shook him off.

‘Y/N. You can’t leave like this. How are you gonna get home?’

Ignoring his pleas, you made a beeline for the exit. Nat shoved Reuben into Mickey, trying to hurry them out of the booth so she could follow you, but you were surprisingly fast for a drunk person. Bradley was right about one thing: there was no way you could drive in this state. You ducked around the corner so Nat couldn’t see you and sank to the floor. Hot tears prickled behind your eyes as you did the one thing you didn’t want to do, but the only thing you could do.

You called Elijah. 

He didn’t answer the first, second, third, or fourth time. 

Half an hour passed, and you didn’t move. At one point, you heard Bradley, Nat, and Reuben talking around the corner, coming up with a plan for where to look for you. They knew you were on foot because your car was still in the lot, and since you’d disappeared so quickly, you couldn’t have gotten far. If the situation weren’t so tragic, it would’ve been funny that you were hiding ten paces away, and none of them could find you. 

It was getting very late. People were getting in their cars and leaving or jumping into Ubers. Soon, your Jeep would be the only car left. You couldn’t face the daggers, and you couldn’t drive home, so you picked yourself up and took a slow walk down the beach to where the water met the sand. 

What a beautiful night to have your heart broken. 

There was no way Elijah would ever forgive you for this, no way you’d ever be able to convince him that nothing had happened between you and Bradley. The sane part of you knew that it was crazy to feel guilty for simply enjoying a night out with your friends, but the sane part of you rarely won these days. The part of you that loved Elijah was always loudest and knew this could never have gone any other way. 

You were just about to resign yourself to calling a cab when you heard someone yelling your name from the top of the beach. 

You either had the best or worst luck in the world because it was Bradley. 

He made short work of the distance, giving you no time to come up with something to say. He looked otherworldly in the pale moonlight. His hair was slightly mused, and the same insane part of you that loved what it loved was whispering at you to run your fingers through it. 

‘We’ve been looking all over for you, Y/N.’ He sounded very concerned as he pulled out his phone and texted the others to let them know you were safe. ‘I’m sorry, I just needed to be alone.’

You hadn’t even realised you were shivering until Bradley draped his Levi jacket over your shoulders. 

‘You needed to be alone, or you needed to call Viper back?’ The tears threatened to make another appearance. ‘It’s none of your business.’ ‘What makes you think it’s not my business? I care about you and don’t want to keep watching you get hurt.’ ‘Then stop watching!’

Bradley recoiled, and you immediately felt awful. How Elijah spoke to you like that day in and day out without feeling guilty was a mystery to you. 

‘I’m sorry, Bradley,’ you sighed, pulling his jacket tighter around you. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just very drunk and very emotional right now.’

He softened immediately and seemed torn about whether he should let you stand there freezing or pull you close. You hoped he wouldn’t try to pull you close because you didn’t think you’d have the guts to tell him no. Good feelings had been so incredibly hard to come by as of late.

‘Why are you still with him, Y/N?’ Bradley asked almost pleadingly. 

Wow. He didn’t waste any time getting right to the point. 

‘That’s a loaded question.’ ‘I need you to explain it to me because it’s killing me.’

You thought about it for a moment, and Bradley waited with bated breath to hear what you had to say.

In the end, it was this: ‘I guess we accept the love we think we deserve.’ 

Until you said it out loud, this phrase held little meaning to you. Now that it was out in the open, it was very heavy. In the last few months you’d tried coming up with a decent explanation as to why you were staying with Elijah, and you fell short every time. Turns out all you needed to do was get drunk and have an honest conversation to figure it out. 

Coming to the realisation that what you’d just said was true felt like being in freefall. Everything in your life was changing shape to fit around this ugly truth. The good things in your heart shied away in the face of this monstrous fact. 

You didn’t think you deserved a healthy love. 

Somehow, Bradley was more hurt by this than when you’d snapped at him earlier. He was staring at the ground, unable to meet your eye like you’d just told him he wasn’t worthy of love.

‘You don’t think you deserve to be happy?’

Hearing him say it was somehow even worse.

‘Apparently not.’

You were both quiet for a moment, and then, for whatever reason, you laughed. 

‘This is news to me too.’

The waves crashed loudly, water lapping at your feet as the tide came in. You couldn’t stand out here having epiphanies all night. 

‘Listen, Rooster, I need to go home. I’m sorry for snapping.’ ‘I’ll take you home,’ he said quietly. ‘But we should talk tomorrow when you’re sober. Maybe we could get coffee.’ You shook your head. ‘After tonight, I don’t think that’s a smart idea. I’ll probably be spending tomorrow trying to salvage what’s left of my relationship.’ ‘You’re not serious.’ ‘I am.’

He opened his mouth to protest but then appeared to change his mind. You watched as all the fight he had left in him dissolved. There was nothing left for him to say, and he knew it. 

The irritating birds that constantly chirped right outside your bedroom window woke you up. It was too damn early, and your head felt as though it was splitting open. When you sat up, you were hit by a wave of nausea so strong that you had no other choice but to sprint to the bathroom, smashing into the corner of your chest of drawers on the way. 

Which was to say, it was a bad morning. 

After you had puked up the entire contents of your stomach, you jumped straight in the shower, brushed your teeth, and did your skincare. At least if Elijah showed up at your front door, you wouldn’t look like you got super drunk last night, even though he’d probably already guessed. 

When you checked your phone, there were still no notifications from him, and when you called, there was no answer. This wasn’t unlike him, but it had been almost twelve hours since Bradley picked up your phone, and you would have thought he’d have something to say by now. 

To distract yourself from your impending doom, you threw open all the windows in your apartment, made your bed, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher—all the usual morning tasks. It seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful Saturday, but you doubted you’d enjoy any of your hobbies when you were this anxious and hungover. 

With nothing else left to do, you set about making some breakfast. 

Just as you put your bagel in the toaster, somebody knocked on the door. 

Your stomach twisted itself into an impossibly tight knot. You were rooted to the spot, unable to move until whoever it was knocked a second time. 

You looked through the peephole, expecting to see Elijah standing there with his dark eyebrows knitted together in frustration. It was the only scenario that had crossed your mind, so when you saw Bradley standing there, you were very surprised. 

You took a deep breath and opened the door, greeted by the warm scent of sandalwood once again. 

‘Bradley?’

He was holding two iced lattes, which you were betting were vanilla—your favourite. Elijah hadn’t done that for you since the first week of your relationship.

‘Hey, Y/N. Thought you could use this.’

He wasn’t wrong. You ushered him inside, and he headed to the kitchen, where he 

perched himself on one of the stools at your kitchen island. This morning, he was sporting one of his more toned-down Hawaiian shirts and dark jeans. His eyelids drooped, and you wondered if he’d slept at all. 

‘I was just about to make bagels. Want one?’ ‘Sure, thank you.’

You busied yourself, putting bacon and eggs into a pan while he sipped his coffee. He eyed you with the curiosity of someone who had come over to check that you were all in one piece. Once he was satisfied that you were, he relaxed slightly. 

‘Thank you for bringing me home last night. I really appreciate it.’ You told him earnestly.  ‘You don’t need to thank me. You’d have done the same thing.’ ‘True, but still. And I’m sorry for snapping at you.’ 

Last night was gradually coming back to you in flashes, like a supercut. Each time you remembered a new detail, you cringed internally. 

‘You also don’t need to apologise. Has he called you?’ 

While the eggs and bacon were cooking, you toasted another bagel for Bradley and buttered yours. Even though you’d known him for years and been quite close until you got into a relationship, you were struggling to admit that you were pretty much being ghosted. It was already hard to walk around on base knowing that everybody was aware of how Elijah treated you. When you didn’t respond, Bradley took that as a no. 

‘Well, that’s his problem,’ he spat. ‘You did absolutely nothing wrong. Maybe if he were less of a control freak, you would have felt like you could tell him you were out with us rather than hiding it, and then he wouldn’t have found out the way he did.’

The toaster popped, and you jumped. It felt like somebody had run a cheese grater over your nerves. Bradley ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, clearly trying to reign in his anger.

‘I should apologise too,’ he continued. ‘I shouldn’t have answered your phone. It was a dick move, and I regretted it the instant I did it.’ 

You buttered the second bagel, put one egg on each of the bottom halves, and stacked two pieces of bacon on top before adding the top part. You didn’t say a word the entire time, and Bradley was starting to get antsy. 

‘Y/N. Please talk to me.’ ‘I don’t know what to say, Roo. I’m struggling even to think straight right now. He knows it drives me fucking crazy when he’s having a go at me and doesn’t respond. I don’t understand why he does it, knowing how it makes me feel.’ Bradley sighed. ‘Because he doesn’t give a shit how you feel. He doesn’t give a shit about anything other than himself and how he feels.’ 

This wasn’t news to you, but again, it was more impactful to hear someone else say it out loud. Really, how long could you keep this up? Whether you thought you deserved it or not, you were starting to wonder if you might be better off alone than with someone who made living feel like walking next to a cliff with your eyes closed. 

You pushed Bradley’s plate across the counter and picked up your bagel. Eating felt impossible, but getting through the day with this headache would be excruciating if you didn’t at least try. 

‘Come and sit down,’ Bradley said. ‘It’s not good to eat standing up.’ Despite everything, you managed to laugh. And this time, it was a real laugh. ‘Why?’ A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘I don’t know. My mum used to say it all the time.’

You did as you were told, and you walked around the island, taking the seat next to him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, periodically taking sips of your coffees. This was how easy it should have been with Elijah. 

When you were both finished, Bradley put your plates, pan, and utensils into the dishwasher. You were too tired to tell him to stop. 

‘Thanks for breakfast.’  You smiled. ‘Thanks for being you.’

Bradley’s smile mirrored your own. Unsaid words hung in the air, but you didn’t know what to say. His leaving didn’t feel right, but if he stayed and Elijah made an appearance, he’d most definitely break up with you. 

But wasn’t this radio silence all the confirmation you needed that things were pretty much over, anyway? You were starting to wonder if this weekend had all happened exactly the way it was supposed to. Your eyes were indeed open, that was for sure. Of course, you’d known that the relationship wasn’t healthy, but this weekend had really driven the point home. 

‘Do you wanna go for a walk along the beach?’ You asked, hopefully. ‘We could grab some ice cream at that little place next to the arcade.’

Bradley didn’t just look happy. He also looked relieved that you weren’t asking him to leave. 

‘I’d love to.’

It was a beautiful Spring day, perfect walking weather. Honestly, it was the last thing Bradley expected you to suggest, so he jumped on the idea before you could change your mind and send him home.

Because he really didn’t want to go home. 

He’d sensed that you didn’t want to talk about Viper, and you’d yet to bring up your conversation on the beach last night. Bradley was beginning to doubt that you even remembered everything you said—all that nonsense about not deserving a healthy love. Bradley didn’t take you as a liar, which meant you believed that you weren’t deserving of happiness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite so sad and also angry at the same time. So many emotions were warring for the top spot in his heart, and as a result, his brain was incredibly foggy.

A walk along the beach with you was perhaps the only cure.

‘Did you hear about Hangman?’ Bradley assumed you hadn’t. ‘No?’ ‘He’s getting deployed. He’s leaving next month.’ ‘How long is he going for?’ ‘Six months.’ You whistled lowly. ‘Damn.’ ‘I know. I think he’s looking forward to it, though. I sure am.’ ‘You know, I don’t think you hate him half as much as you say.’ Bradley chuckled. ‘Maybe not, but being nice to him wouldn’t feel right. Even after everything that happened on the mission.’ 

The two of you walked down the beach, chit-chatting about anything that came to mind. You were about halfway to the ice cream place when your phone pinged. Bradley guessed it would be Viper, but he never could have guessed what the message said. 

It was a photo of you and Bradley walking down the beach, taken from behind. The picture had been forwarded to you from someone else. 

E<3: always knew you were a slut.

You inhaled sharply, obviously hurt by the words on the screen. Not two seconds later, he sent another text. 

E<3: PS: we’re fucking over.

The two of you had stopped walking. Bradley watched over your shoulder as you furiously typed a reply and deleted it again. You turned to face him, and his heart just about broke when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t need to say a word. He pulled you close to him, wrapping you tightly in his arms. You stayed that way for a while, sobbing into his Hawaiian shirt as he rubbed your back soothingly. When you eventually pulled away, the first thing you did was apologise. 

‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, sweet girl. He’s the one who should be sorry.’ You sniffled. ‘I don’t know what to reply.’ ‘Leave it for now,’ he said. ‘We can go get ice cream, take a slow walk back to yours. Then I’ll help you think of something.’ ‘I don’t know if I feel like ice cream anymore.’ ‘Well, that’s too bad because I do. Ice cream is the best remedy for heartbreak.’ ‘Did your mum tell you that too?’ ‘She sure did.’ 

It turns out Bradley was right about ice cream being the best remedy for heartbreak. The two of you sat on the wall, watching the waves while he munched on a mint chocolate chip cone and you butterscotch. It was hard to tell whether it was the best ice cream you’d ever had or if it was because you were with Bradley. If you remembered correctly, you’d had ice cream from this same place with Elijah before, and it hadn’t been this nice.

Thinking back on your memories with him only made you want to cry, so you did your best to shove them to the back of your mind. Despite the fact that he was actually a very shitty person, he’d been a dream at the beginning, and that didn’t just go away. The happy moments didn’t just suddenly turn to ash, as much as you wished they would. 

‘What are your plans for the rest of the night?’ Bradley asked around his ice cream cone. ‘I don’t know, Roo. I’m kinda working on a minute-to-minute basis right now.’ Bradley nodded. ‘Okay, well, what would you say to junk food run and a movie night?’ ‘With you?  ‘If you want to. I just don’t think it’s good for you to be alone.’ ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit me.’ ‘Is that what you think this is?’ ‘No, but I don’t want to be a burden. Or a charity case.’ ‘Y/N, you’re none of those things. I always want to spend time with you. Just so happens I have a good excuse today.’ You frowned into your ice cream. ‘Okay. As long as you’re sure.’ 

The two of you finished your ice cream and took a slow walk back to your apartment. When you got in, the first thing you noticed was a framed photograph of you and your now ex-boyfriend on the side table in the hallway. When your bottom lip started trembling, Bradley picked up the photo, put it face down, and then proceeded to run around your apartment and take down any others. It didn’t feel like the same place you’d left a few hours ago. It was haunted by memories that would never look right in the light of day. Even the happiest ones from the start were tainted with the ugliness of his cruel words and actions. 

‘This place is so depressing.’ You grumbled.

Bradley stood in front of you with a stack of photos and one of Elijah’s t-shirts. 

‘It’s not. It’s your home, Y/N. We just have to pack away his stuff and put it all in a box.’ ‘An ex-boyfriend box.’ Bradley smiled sadly. ‘Yeah, exactly. It might be over, and he might be a dick, but it was still a big part of your life, and it’s important to keep the memories safe in case you wanna look back on them someday.’ ‘Or in case I wanna burn them.’ ‘That too.’ Bradley chuckled

So you helped him gather all the mementoes from your relationship and put them in an old Dr Martens box. It all looked pretty pathetic, packed away in a shoebox.

‘I found one of his hoodies and a few other things.’ You called from your bedroom. ‘Can you grab me a bin bag from the top of the fridge?’

You heard shuffling, and then Bradley was standing in the doorway holding out the bag you requested. 

‘Damn, he doesn’t even get one of the nice Trader Joe's bags?’ ‘No,’ you giggled. ‘He gets a trash bag because his stuff is trash, and he’s trash.’

You weren’t really at the stage where you believed that just yet, but saying it was really satisfying, and it felt good to laugh. Fake it till you make it or whatever. 

‘Want me to give it to him tomorrow?’ ‘Thanks, but I should really be the one to do it. I haven’t even texted him back.’ You thought about it for a moment and then continued. ‘Would it be cheeky of me to ask if you’ll come with me? Maybe Nat, too? I could use some moral support, and he’s less likely to make a scene if the two of you are there.’ ‘Of course I’ll be there. I won’t say anything unless you need me to or unless he starts. I can’t make that same promise for Nix, though.’ ‘I haven’t even told Nat yet,’ you sighed. ‘I don’t think I wanna talk about it right this second.’ ‘I’ll text her. Don’t worry about it.’

From your spot on the floor, you looked up at Bradley. The evening sunlight was streaming in through the windows, casting an ethereal glow around him. 

‘You should change your callsign to angel.’ A look of pleasant surprise flickered across his handsome features. ‘Why?’ ‘Because you’re literally my angel, Roo. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

Half an hour later, Bradley convinced you to go on a junk food run with him in the Bronco. He said tonight was a mandatory, post-breakup wallowing sesh because if you bottled up your feelings now, you’d explode later at a much more inconvenient time. 

The two of you had been screaming along to all the classic breakup songs: All Too Well by Taylor Swift (yes, he knew all the words), Who Knew by Pink, What About Now by Daughtry… He’d driven the long way to the store because you got so into it. 

Now, as you scanned the shelves in Target, you asked: ‘What is it about screaming sad songs that makes you feel better?’ ‘It’s cathartic,’ Bradley explained. ‘Helps you relieve the strong feelings.’ ‘You know a lot about heartbreak.’ ‘Well, I’ve had my fair share of sadness.’ You froze. ‘That was insensitive of me, I’m sorry.’ Bradley took the packed of Reeses Pieces from your hands so he could hold them. ‘Can you make me a promise?’ ‘What?’ You asked sceptically. ‘Promise you’re gonna stop apologising to me all the time. You have nothing to be sorry for.’ ‘Sorry.’ You smiled sheepishly.  He shook his head. ‘That’s not what you’re supposed to say.’ ‘Okay, fine,’ you huffed. ‘I promise to stop apologising all the time.’ ‘Thank you,’ Bradley said, releasing your hands reluctantly. ‘Now, pick out five more things.’ ‘Five? There’s already five things in the basket.’ ‘Did I ask?’ ‘I’m gonna get fat.’ ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. Wallowing means junk food, and I don’t know if you’re looking at the same basket I am, but that’s not enough junk food.’ ‘Christ Almighty, okay.’ 

He helped you pick out five more things, and then you headed to check out.

‘What movies are good for wallowing?’ You asked. ‘Well, we have to start with a couple of sad ones and then finish with a happy one.’

The cashier told you your total, and Bradley tapped his card before you could even get yours out. You gave him a withering look.

‘I would’ve paid for that. You paid for the ice cream.’ ‘So?’ ‘So we should take it in turns.’

Obviously, he carried the bags as well, and as you walked back to the Bronco, he couldn’t help but wonder if Viper made you take it in turns. If you were his girl, you’d never have to tap your card.

‘What’s your favourite sad movie?’ He inquired.  You opened the trunk for him so he could put the bags in. ‘Technically, it’s not a sad movie. But there’s this part in Inside Out…Wait, have you watched it before? I don’t wanna spoil it for you.’ ‘The part where Bing Bong gets forgotten?’ You gasped. ‘How did you know?’ ‘Because it gets me every single time.’

The way you looked at him in that moment, like he had hung the moon in the sky—God, it was too much. 

‘We’ll start with Inside Out,’ he told you, opening the passenger door so you could climb in. ‘And then we’ll think of something else.’

Without giving much thought to what he was doing, Bradley found himself buckling your seatbelt for you. You were holding your breath, and it dawned on him how easy it would be to kiss you if he were that sort of guy.

And as much as he wanted to kiss you, he was not that sort of guy. He wasn’t about to take advantage of the fact that some asshole had just taken a sledgehammer to your very beautiful heart. 

‘Can we watch Bridge To Terabithia?’ You whispered.

Bradley hadn’t moved, and you were so close that he could feel your warm breath on his cheek. 

‘Are you trying to break my heart, Y/N?’ ‘Yes. I want you to feel my pain.’ 

He was grinning the whole way around the car to the driver’s side and still grinning when he got in the car. You already had his phone in your hand, searching for more sad songs so you could continue your car concert on the way back to your apartment. He drove the long way again so the two of you could finish your rendition of ‘I Don’t Love You’ by My Chemical Romance, which Bradley didn’t know the words to. He tried his best, though, because you seemed to love it, and he couldn’t deny you anything. 

By the time you got home, the sun had almost entirely set. While he set the snacks out on the coffee table, you went around lighting candles and switching on fairy lights. He’d never seen your apartment in the dark, and it was incredibly cosy. Even though it was relatively warm, you dragged all your blankets and pillows from your bed and made a little nest on the sofa. You were so adorable, it was hard to believe that someone could treat you badly. 

If you were his girl, every night would look like this—except you’d be a lot happier, and there would be no tears. 

Halfway through Bridge To Terebitha, you fell asleep. Bradley had been trying to keep his distance despite wanting to wrap you up in his arms, yet somehow—in your sleep—you’d ended up with your legs in his lap. He’d frozen at first, but once he realised you were dead to the world, he allowed himself to rest his hands on your knees. Really, it was that or sit with his arms crossed, and that would be silly. 

For the duration of the movie, his attention flickered between you and the TV. Every time he tried paying attention to what was happening, his eyes wandered back to your peaceful face. He marvelled at your astounding beauty, the delicate way your eyelashes rested against the tops of your rosy cheeks. Bradley had always admired you, and you’d been good friends for years, but what he felt in that moment was something else entirely. By the time the end credits started rolling, he knew without a doubt that he’d set whole cities ablaze to keep you warm. Feelings as rapidly growing as his should have been terrifying, but Bradley wasn’t scared. Falling in love with you seemed to be as easy as wading out into a calm ocean on a warm summer’s day. 

He knew you’d yet to learn that falling in love and staying in love should always be this easy. He knew it was going to take some time to convince you that you deserved healthy love, that the right person would never run away from you and keep turning around to make sure you were chasing them. 

But Bradley was a patient man, and he would wait as long as he had to.

End of part one.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Hellfire (Priest! Miguel O’Hara x Demon! Fem! Reader) one shot

Oooooo Im very happy about this one. Based of the song from the hunchback of Norte dame. No idea how this got to the word count it did lol. Not proofread.

Religious imagery(Catholicism specifically), questioning of faith, the lyrics of the song does contain a certain that can be seen as distasteful/offensive, reader is a demonic entity (almost like a succubus), nsfw content but no smut (mdni), semi-dub con(???) (reader trying to convince Miguel to give into her, but it’s mostly teasing touches and stuff.), cursing, mentions of hell.

(Y/N)- Your name.

Word count: 2.6K

Masterlist

—

Confiteor deo

Omnipotenti

Beatae Mariae

Semper virgini

Beato Michaeli archangelo

Sanctis apostolis

Omnibus sanctis

—

With a heavy sigh, Miguel placed his rosary and his bible on his office’s desk. Another Sunday completed, all the services for the day were finished, along with clean up and the classes for the kiddos. It was now getting dark, the sun setting, leaving a beautiful painting of pink and orange hues in the sky. The church bells struck once, twice, three times, then one last time, signifying another hour having passed as Miguel put on his winter coat and gloves, because surely,it was still snowing outside , his heavy footsteps echoing throughout the empty ancient church. He stops at the start of the wooden pews, turning towards the front and placing his right hand to the top of his forehead.

“En el nombre del Padre.” (In the name of the father.)

His hand travels to the middle of his chest.

“Y del Hijo.” (The son)

To his left shoulder.

“Y del Espíritu…” (And the holy…)

To his right shoulder.

“Santo, Amén.” (spirit, Amen.)

Lastly, he brings his hand up and places a gentle kiss on the side of it, his eyes never leaving the stain glass portrait of the Virgin Mary that hung in the middle of the top of the stage as he said the prayer, before turning back around and exiting the church, a familiar sense of dread filling his chest as he closes the door behind him.

—

Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man

Of my virtue I am justly proud (et tibit pater)

—

Miguel couldn’t sleep, he wouldn’t sleep.

He rubs his large hands over his face, his eye bags have been getting darker lately, he’s been lacking energy, and thanks to the little sleep he’s been receiving, it was only making it harder for him to fight off the temptation of sin. But it’s not like he could have a full night's rest, not when… Miguel shook his head in an attempt to rid the vile and unholy thoughts. Maybe tonight will be different, that was the lie he told himself every night.

Miguel placed his toothbrush back into the little blue cup onto his bathroom sink, bringing up a small, white hand towel to clean off the excess water that was spread on his lips, and began to run down his chin and onto his neck.

what a delicious sight.

Once he finally finished cleaning up the water on his chin, he dragged the towel over his sink counter to clean the water he had spilled while brushing, before placing it back on its little hook and exited the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door.

Maybe he wouldn’t have the same problem every night if he didn’t look so tempting, only sleeping in gray sweatpants.

He does a once-over of his house, making sure all the doors and windows are locked. Before finishing stopping in front of his bedroom, freezing right before the threshold of the door. His hands go up and join together in a praying signal, whispering for protection under his breath.

Like that’s ever helped him.

—

Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than

The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd (quia peccavi nimis)

—

The second he took the step into his bedroom, he felt a shiver run down his back. It felt like the temperature dropped once he walked in, he swore if he focused hard enough, he’d be able to see his own breath.

Despite his fight or flight senses screaming at him to run, he continued to venture further into his master bedroom. A simple wooden cross with golden accents hung over his bed, his eyes fixated on it. Miguel O’Hara, was a man of faith, he had to be in order to be the priest of his community’s church. He’s poured his whole life, soul and being into his religion, having been raised catholic since he was a mere infant. So why was it that every night, when he’d stared at the cross over his bed, the one that was supposed to protect him, did he start to doubt?

—

Then tell me, Maria, why I see her dancing there?

Why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul? (cogitatione)

—

It always started the same.

He’d sleep somewhat soundly for a good amount of the night, once he was able to get his mind to stop racing.

He looked so adorable asleep, despite his colossal size.

He moves a lot, so his bed always becomes a bit disheveled, a pillow on the floor or a blanket halfway off the bed. Some light snores and some drool dripping out the corner of his mouth.

How could such a holy man be so delicious looking?

It was 3 am. Witching hour.

“Wake…”

“… up~”

“Wake up.”

—

I feel her, I see her

The sun caught in her raven hair

Is blazing in me out of all control (verb o et opere)

—

Miguel’s eyes shot open. Chest heaving as he takes rapid short breaths, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat. His eyes darting around his dark room in an attempt to find the source of the voice, only lifting his head as he did so.

He knew you were here.

Finally he finds a pair of dark glowing eyes at the foot of his bed, how did he miss it in the first place? He chalks it up to panic. A silence fell over the two of you for what felt like hours, an all too familiar sense of panic (and to Miguel’s horror, slight arousal) filled his senses. Finally, you break the silence.

“My my my… if it isn’t my favorite priest…” You said in a sing-songy tone, as you slowly climbed onto the bed, making Miguel’s stomach twist. He should push you off of him, he should banish you to the depths of hell, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it for some reason. He was paralyzed. You stopped crawling once you were fully over him. “Oh father… help me for I have sinned.” You said in a mocking tone, a shiver ran down his back once again as he let out a shaky breath, feeling your sharp fingernails trail down his chest, and stopping at the waistband of his sweats tugging at the band slightly.

—

Like fire

Hellfire

—

Finally coming to his senses, (much to your dismay) he finally pushes off you. Landing on the floor to the left side of the bed, with a small “oof” as he quickly scrambled to the over side of the bed in or to create distant between the two of you.

“Get out.” Miguel growled as he readjusted his sweats. You didn’t respond, rather, you brought your hand up to move some hair that had gotten into your face as you slowly walked around the bed and towards him. You looked how you always did when you would visit him. You could even be mistaken for a human if it weren’t for the horns, the wings and the long nails.

“Don’t act like that now, father. Aren’t you tired of this little game we play every night?” You asked with a head tilt, continuing to walk towards him as you spoke, your sentence coming out slow and drawn out, your tone nothing but pure seduction. Miguel closes his eyes as if they would deafen your words. Every step you take forward, he takes one back, before the back of his knees eventually hits the back of his bedside table, his hands going behind him to help stabilize himself to keep from falling back on top of it. “You pretend you don’t enjoy this-“

“I don’t.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Then why, pray tell, are you hard, father?” You smirked as you spoke., eyes drifting down to a very visible bulge in his sweats. “Have I finally done my job? Will this be the night you fall victim to temptation?” You said in a surprised, yet smug tone. Miguel felt his face burn up, a hand going behind him in search of something. “I will say, you do look quite handsome on your knees. I can give you something so much better to worship than God. You just have to give in to me, give in, father. Give in. Give in. Give in. Give. In.” You chant those two words like a mantra, your eyes begin to glow as you got closer, you were at arms length now. Your steps and words came to a sudden halt.

—

This fire in my skin

This burning desire

Is turning me to sin

—

Your eyes narrowed at the rosary Miguel was holding up in front of you in an attempt to protect himself from you.

“That’s not a very nice way to treat your guest.”

“You’re lucky I don’t banish you back to hell where you belong.” His words make you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Oh please, you would never. You and I both know that. Now put that thing down so I can corrupt my favorite human.” You attempted to move closer, only for him to double down. “Tell me Miguel, if you were really gonna ‘banish’ me or whatever. Why haven’t you done so already? I’ve been coming to you for a few weeks now? If you really wanted to get rid of me for good, you would have done so already. You’re a priest for god’s sake-“

“Don’t you dare use the Lord’s name in vain.”

“I’m a demon.” You deadpanned.

He hated to admit that you were right, he hated that he knew that you were. He’s surprised that you haven’t gotten bored in this game of cat and mouse yet. Every night you would appear in his room at the sametime, attempting to seduce him while he spat empty threats at you. Why hasn't he just gotten rid of you yet? It’s not like he doesn’t have the power to do so or the equipment. Maybe he was going insane, maybe he was losing it, or maybe…

No. He couldn’t.

He can’t just throw away his whole life’s work just because a demon who happened to be conventional pretty keeps pestering every night. He couldn’t allow himself to give in to temptation. He wouldn’t allow himself to be corrupted by your glowing eyes that seem like they could stare into his soul forever, or your sultry voice that made his heart skip a beat, your plump lips that would pull up into a smirk whenever you’d question him, how the say you would tilt your head made him weak in the knees- oh how he wish he could worship your body on his knees like you were a goddess- no, fuck.

“Get out.” Miguel repeated, his voice becoming tighter, his knuckles turning white. He takes a step forward, you take one back and frown. “Get. Out!”

He blinks, you're gone.

—

It's not my fault (mea culpa)

I'm not to blame (mea culpa)

It is the gypsy girl the witch who sent this flame (mea maxima culpa)

—

It’s been a few weeks since your last visit, much to Miguel’s surprise. He should be relieved, he should be thanking the heavens up above that he was finally able to extract such a vile presence from his life, he doesn’t feel a pit in his stomach when he enters his own home anymore, it doesn’t feel like the temperature in his room is 20 degrees colder than it is in the hallway leading into it anymore, he doesn’t feel like like there’s this constant ghost lingering over his shoulder anymore. So why wasn't he at peace?

Your lack of presence was almost just as unbearable. In a twisted way, he became accustomed to it. Maybe this was another of your tricks, attempting to perform classic conditioning on him. Get him used to you by the constant attention from your nightly visits, butter him up despite his protest, making his body burn up with the way your touch lingers on his body too long, the way his eyes always drop to your mouth when you lick your lips, the way the word father would leave your lips in a way that made it sound like you’ve just sinned and he was the only one who could help you reach eternal salvation again, just to pull it all away from him within a snap of a finger to see how long it would take for him to crumble. You were Pavlov, and Miguel was just the dog whose mouth started to water at the sound of a bell.

The church was empty besides himself, he was kneeling before the crucifix that was placed next to the portrait of the Virgin Mary, eyes closed, his hands folded together in a fist as he he dips his head down, nose touching his hands as he silently prayed for forgiveness for allowing you to slowly chip away at his self-restraint. He heard the large front door open, he didn’t open his eyes but his head came up as he spoke.

“I’m sorry my child, the church is closed.”

“I needed to see you though, father.”

Miguel’s eyes snapped open. He knew that voice all too well.

—

It's not my fault (mea culpa)

If in God's plan (mea culpa)

He made the Devil so much stronger than a man (mea maxima culpa)

—

“How-“ Miguel was stunned, not only have you reappeared after weeks, you were also standing inside of a church, his church. You looked so beautiful, you looked like an actual human, your nails, although still sharp and point looked more like acrylics rather then claws, you weren’t dawning your bat-like wings and your horns weren’t poking out of your hair, if Miguel had passed by you on the street, he’d be none the wiser. It only made him crack more, imagining what it would be like in a different world where there wasn’t shame and taboo keeping him away from you. Where you aren’t a soulless, heartless creature. “How’s you get in here?” He finally got the question out, his eyes narrowed into slits as he took a step back, almost fumbling his footing and tripping.

“We can enter churches if we find a weak point.” You stated as you made your way towards him, Miguel’s eyes dropped instantly to your hips, how they swayed with each step you take, his mouth went dry and he instinctively licked his lips. “I wonder what that weak point is?” You teased as you stopped in front of him, your lips pulling up into a smirk.

—

Protect me, Maria

Don't let this siren cast her spell

Don't let her fire sear my flesh and bone

Destroy Esmeralda

And let her taste the fires of hell

Or else let her be mine and mine alone

—

He don’t know how it happened, one minute he was standing face to face in front of you, then the next, you both were in his office in the back of the church, you were sitting on top of his desk as he kneeled in front of you, his rough hands wondering and running around your legs, and he planted soft light kisses all over them. In between each one, he’d whispered a small pile of forgiveness from God, but he couldn’t stop himself anymore.

—

Hellfire

Darkfire

Now gypsy, it's your turn

Choose me or your pyre

Be mine or you will burn

—

“You never told me your name…” Miguel mumbled into your skin, his face buried against your inner thigh as he looked up at you.

“You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my actual name. Just… call me (Y/N).” You cooed as you ran a hand through his hair, before bringing it down to his cheek. Miguel leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. He was completely and utterly yours now.

“(Y/N)…” He whispered the name like a prayer.

—

Kyrie eleison

God have mercy on her

Kyrie eleison

God have mercy on me

Kyrie eleison

But she will be mine

Or she will burn

[callsign-rogueone]

fireproof - b.s.

cadet!Brennan Sorrengail x cadet!reader (young Brennan and Duchess!) words: 1.4k 🏷: no book spoilers because this happens before the events of fourth wing hehe. more of bb bren and bb duchess. set soon after the events of allies, so read that first! near-death situation / mortal peril, but no actual injury happens. I promise these two will communicate their feelings soon lol

You come to a stop in front of Brennan’s door, heart pounding. You hadn’t thought about this part, and you’re not sure what to do; you don’t want to knock, don’t want to wake up any of the other cadets -- it’s still very much four in the morning, and you’re not supposed to be out of your room.

You’re not supposed to be talking to a second dragon, either, but here you are.

Brennan pulls the door open, sparing you the decision -- Marbh must have woken him up. He’s quick to usher you inside, scanning you for injury. 

“This is going to sound absolutely insane,” you breathe, “but Marbh is in my head right now.”

He blinks the sleep from his eyes, still not fully awake. “What?”

“Marbh is talking to me. I have no idea why or how, and for some reason, I can’t reach Ban to ask.”

You both hear the orange daggertail’s response at once. “She is otherwise occupied, so she sent me.”

“That’s not vague at all,” Brennan says aloud, exasperated.

“If you must know, she is defending herself to the Empyrean right now.”

Your eyes widen. “The dragon council? Why?”

“That is for her to explain to you.”

Brennan notices you’re fully dressed, your longsword sheathed across your back and a thick cloak covering your shoulders. “If you’re going to find her, I’m coming too.”

He turns to open the closet, digging through it for a clean pair of flight leathers.

Your eyes catch the dark orange of the relic spanning his back, your cheeks warming as you realize he isn’t wearing a shirt. You whirl around, averting your eyes, but the sight is already burned into your brain.

You’d never realized how toned he is.

Focus, you tell yourself, shaking the thought from your head. Ban could be in mortal danger right now. 

“Ready,” Brennan says, shouldering his sword.

It’s absolutely freezing out, still the thick of winter, though there’s been a break in the snow this week, so you don’t need to worry about leaving footprints as you cross the courtyard.

Brennan leads the way, taking a shortcut through a door you’ve never even noticed before. 

Making it out of the fortress is the easy part. You step into the wet grass, and you realize you have no idea where to go.

“Marbh?” 

Silence. Literal crickets. Great.

You gather the slack of the black string connecting you to Ban and pull gently, seeing where it leads. Northeast, to the flight field and the vale. You make the climb silently, worried that if you speak, you’ll somehow alert whoever is threatening Ban to your presence, or that you won’t hear them coming.

You’ve never been out here, never been allowed to -- you still aren’t, and you probably never will be, but you push the thought aside as you continue. It’s surprisingly deserted out here, which is as equally concerning as it is relieving.

It’s so dark out that you almost mistake the orange daggertail ahead of you for Marbh. Almost. 

Marbh isn’t missing an eye; this is Melgren’s dragon, Solas.

His jaws open, and you know there’s no time to run, to fight, to beg for your life.

You yank Brennan behind you, praying to whatever gods will answer that your body will be enough to shield him from the fire.

It is.

You hear the roar, feel the heat, see the grass on either side of you catch, but you’re protected by an invisible wall that extends from your outstretched hands, keeping back the flame.

You plant your feet, fighting to stay upright and to keep doing whatever this is. It feels like you’re pushing a thousand pounds uphill, but if you stop, if you falter for even a second, or it will cost both you and Brennan your lives.

The blast stops, leaving a wall of flickering orange fire in front of you that fades after a split second.

You nearly collapse as you step backward. You’re exhausted, soaked in sweat and overheated despite the chill of the night air, your heart pounding and lungs burning like you’ve been running for miles.

Brennan holds you up, undoing the clasp of your cloak to help cool you off.

The ground shakes with the landing of multiple dragons. If they’re as mad as Solas is, you’re absolutely cooked. You have no idea how to do that again, or if you even can.

You want to tell him how sorry you are that you’d dragged him into this, that you shouldn’t have knocked on his door to tell him, you should have just gone alone, that when you die together, you'll spend the rest of your afterlife making it up to him, that your biggest regret in life will be not telling him how you felt about him, that you--

“Sorry I’m late, noble one.”

You whip your head up to see a black leg next to you. Ban. She’s brought company — Marbh, and a giant brown swordtail that you’ve never seen before. Brennan’s eyes widen in shock, but he stays silent, his arms still wrapped around you.

Marbh does not greet you, instead stalking past you toward the other orange dragon and baring his teeth in warning.

Oh, gods, are they going to fight? If Solas kills Marbh, it’ll kill Brennan too.

The brown steps forward, cutting Marbh off and stepping dangerously close to Solas. They lock eyes for a moment, and Solas backs up, but the other takes a step forward, forcing him to retreat. Solas quits while he’s behind, taking flight and disappearing over the ridge.

The brown dragon looks back at you, satisfied with his work.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, still terrified. If he could scare off Solas, he must be even nastier — or he must have said something to him that made a difference.

He nods his head at you in acknowledgment before he takes off.

The sun is starting to rise over the mountains, casting the scorched ground in gold. 

Brennan’s hands are on you instantly, checking you over for injury, but you’re more focused on the perfect half-circle of green grass beneath you that hadn’t been burned.

“You’re a fire wielder,” Ban answers, sensing your confusion. 

You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally.

It had taken Brennan just over two weeks to discover that he was a mender, the rest of your class following suit quickly. You're the only first-year who is yet to attend Professor Carr’s lectures. 

You were beginning to think you might not have been going to get a signet at all.

“We never doubted you for a second,” another voice purrs -- not Ban or Marbh.

You startle. “What?”

A different one replies, a gruff male who sounds absolutely terrifying. “We’ve been watching you with great interest. I now understand what she saw in you on conscription day.”

This has to be a dream. There’s no way that four dragons are in your head right now.

“You’ll get used to it,” yet another adds. Five? 

“How many of you are there?” you ask aloud, eyes widening.

Another answers. “A dozen, for now. I am sure that many others will come to accept you in time.”

“Accept me? What?”

“As a human ambassador,” Marbh replies, as if it’s obvious. “We haven’t had one in nearly a century. It was about time.”

You notice a new string now sits beside the one you share with Ban, multiple threads of different colors twisted together into a thick rope.

You laugh in shock, processing. “But why me?”

“Because of this,” Brennan says softly, touching your forehead, “and this,” he rests his fingertips against your chest, keeping them there.

Your eyes meet, and you feel that magnetism you’d felt the day he’d first spoken to you. Your heart races under his hand.

“The boy is correct. You are the first in two human generations with this deep of a respect for our kind.”

You’re still looking at Brennan. You bring a hand up to grasp his, completely forgetting about the soot coating your fingers. It smears against his skin, leaving streaks of black across his knuckles, but neither of you seem to mind.

“Now would be an excellent time,” Ban prods.

You part your lips, working up the courage, but someone else speaks first; a human, that Brennan hears too, and the both of you freeze, turning toward the voice.

“Of all the students that I’d think to find sneaking out, you two were certainly not on the list.”

Professor Kaori. He looks thoroughly unamused, eyeing the four of you and the burned patches on the ground with suspicion.

Brennan looks back to you, and you nod in permission — there’s no lying your way out of this, not when the whole riot will know of the night’s events in a matter of minutes.

“You’re gonna want to hear her out, Professor.”

[darkdemeter]

SOLDAT'S REPRISE PHASE I-B

◤✘BUCKY BARNES SERIES/AU'S | CATALOGUE Winter Soldier x Female Reader ISSUE NO.#2

WARNINGS❕ ↳ 18+ Psychological and sexual thriller — mention of previous supposed "dub-con" encounters, stalking, minor medication usage and trauma — paranoid reader — small SMUT scene, depicted as non/con sleep sex — unprotected sex — dark Winter Soldier — possible grammar/punctuation errors — I think that's it? SUMMARY ↳ Things are getting out of hand. You feel like you're a ship slowly sinking into the dark depths below. You're being hunted, you just know it, but perhaps there is hope in the form of the friendly local deputy. Little do you know what the Winter Soldier is always watching your every move.

✎ 3.4k

@kandis-mom @wintrsoldrluvr @mrsnikstan

↳ BUCKY BARNES TAGLISTS

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Nobody believes ghost stories. That’s the advantage he carries, you have found. He’s a ghost and thus, any mention of his haunting presence is absolved to the grave of a dismissed and silenced voice. A cry for help. 

You feel so alone here. This home that you founded for yourself, made an attempt to lead a life of normalcy and peace. A life where you weren’t spending your tired hours looking over your shoulder and praying that rounding the next corner wouldn’t be your last. 

He had invaded the sanctity of the very place you were meant to feel safe in. He robbed you of the only comfort you had to cling to after everything else went so wrong. 

Every shadow that creeps and waves past the drawn curtains sends you into a frenzy, feet shifting and muscles locking up with the flight or fight response kicking in as electrical surges through your skin, your gut churning and your heart rapping tight against your chest. Every inkling of something dark moving in the hallway has tears prickling the corner of your vision, imagining those cold blue eyes locked on you. Every closet, every corner — every room is now under siege of being a possible hiding place for him. 

You’re forced to undertake that terrible fucking feeling that your soul has jumped out and is latched like tar to your spine. 

Your doctor didn’t believe you. Nobody ever did. It made you feel alone in this town, this heavily pitched, “We’re a tight-knit community that cares for all its residents!”. Putting the product to the board really begins to measure up this so-called community and their nosey personality to happily peek into your life. Did they all know and were too scared for their own lives to help?

You couldn’t blame them, though you probably should. You just can’t. 

He can be anywhere. Even now…

In the broadness of daylight you still suffer the tiresome weight of fear that steeps over you, drawing you out into a state of exhaustion that leaves you further vulnerable. You just… sense him. He’s around though you can’t pinpoint his exact location, you just know deep down in your gut that he’s watching you right now while you walk through the streets.

The leathery scuffle of your boots are trimmed by the cause of a car horn blurting out. “Hey, watch where you’re going!” the driver yells, face red and scrunched up like a swollen balloon ready to pop. 

He slams his fist down on the horn again in a frightful warning. A loud, treacherous horn that signals the arrival of something dangerous, someone that can kill you – but he doesn’t. He moves like he intends to, but he never commits to the final strike. It’s like he gets aroused by the painful implication that he inflicts upon you. 

It’s sunny but the air is smothered by a strange aura of fog, cloudy but not entirely that you can still see several blocks up ahead. You can see the local diner. 

Just a little more. 

You hear the clobber of footsteps behind you, by your guess without arousing suspicion and looking, you’d estimate… 5 feet in distance, give or take?

He really did turn you into a little paranoid freak. They’re heavy, keeping a steady pace that thins out a constant line of anxiety, each step you take he mimics it with one that echoes in the bounds of your mind. Your heart rate thumps with a bruising beat, it’s beginning to put a straining ache on your ribs. 

It’s someone else.

It’s… it’s someone else…

It’s— it’s him, it’s him!

The footsteps pick up to heave a faster pace, the sickening pound of heavy combat boots floods your train of thought. You remember a time of running through the dingy lit halls in Hydra’s underground base. Their brain-fried dog easily keeping track of you no matter what corner you turned, what darkened environment you broke into in your haste to escape. 

“It’s a training montage. It will ensure that he can keep track of his target.” That was what Rumlow had said to you. 

You’re caught in a half spin, almost stumbling over on the sidewalk to meet him face to face, only to falter back when he looks at you with a furrowed decline to his features, confused by your reaction. 

“U-uh, sorry,” you mumble and lower your gaze down. It’s someone else. Dark brown eyes, sandy brown hair cut short and tousled.

He passes you easily to meet with a girl. She’s quite pretty, you don’t believe you’ve seen her around before but maybe you have. It gets hard to finalise and familiarise faces, names and their personalities when you holster yourself up in the town’s wooded outskirts. 

You like the privacy it gives you, however much it’s now put you at risk. 

The joined couple talk with a cheerful ambiance of their romance, happily flourishing and unawares of the troubles you face and they turn into a nearby shop to browse its contents. 

Meanwhile, you continue on towards the diner. 

It’s hard to enjoy a moment of fresh air when you know you’re being hunted, being stalked by a lowly predator that hides in plain sight. 

But by some divine intervention, you finally reach the parking lot of the diner. Weaving through the parked cars and across the wetted tarmac from the morning’s earlier spittle of rain, you hurry along like the obedient rabbit of his chase, hopping quickly to the false security of a burrow. 

You stop just mere feet away from the inviting pavement to see the car at your side. A smile almost spreads on your lips and a sigh escapes you, your shoulders unbunched from the tension they held. You enter the diner far more eagerly, still tinged by the bleeding trail of your fear but you now hold to hope. 

You avoid the eyes of the other customers that stare at you, feeling like you’re committing a walk of shame as you move with quickly paced rumbles steps, the thickened hide of your heels much louder in the soft bustle of the diner. 

You see him sitting in one of the center booths that line the window panes. A fresh refill of coffee steaming from his mug, a finished palette of breakfast and now munching in a rewarding muffin as he reads over what you assume to be his latest report. 

His shining deputy badge being your saving grace in this nightmare. 

He only looks up to meet your eyes that smile equally as his lips do, beautiful dark honey orbs glistening with a vibrancy that’s warm and inviting. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he says smoothly over the rim of his next sip of coffee. 

You shoot back quickly and out of breath. “Hi, Riley.”

His detective instincts kick in immediately, sensing something amiss by the dishevelled state of yourself. Eyes sunken in by dark circles yet sorely irritated and puffy from crying. Your breath is practically rabid as you breathe in and out with attacking panic. 

“What’s up, are you okay?”

“No, I’m not,” you answer shortly. His hand gestures for you to take the booth seat before him and you do, sliding down into it. “Riley, I need your help. I’m in trouble and I have nobody to turn to.”

He nods, tousled lengths of his sandy blonde hair move over his temples and forehead. His large arms cross over themselves and rest on the table. 

“Of course. What’s going on?” 

Your eyes fog over with that familiar heat of tears. You want to cry, to let it all out, finally finding an anchor at port in the safety Riley made you feel. Honestly he was the only good thing about this town. He was everything you needed. Maybe everything you wanted. If only you weren’t so terrified after the repercussions of your prior intimacy with the very man who now won’t leave you in peace. 

Your throat starts to choke, tightening until it hurts as you try to suppress the tears and theatrics. Riley’s brows furrow and he reaches a hand forward, a strong hand that guides and protects, and he takes hold of your quivering arm. His thumb absently strokes the slivered reveal of your wrist between your sleeve and glove. 

“Hey,” he whispers, “It’s alright. Deep breaths for me, that’s it, nice and slow. Talk to me, what’s going on?”

How his eyes solemnly swear that everything will be alright and that he will protect you. So why is it so hard to tell him? Is it shame that you’ll scare him away, that he’ll think you’re batshit crazy if you tell him—

“I’m being stalked.”

Something in the corner of his brow twitches, arching. A shiny spark emits in the pools of his dark eyes, catching the light from outside and revealing a vulnerable trigger that you think you misconstrued as something more than a concerned friend or an officer taking his job seriously. 

“Do you know by who?” he questions with a firm press of his voice. 

Shakily, you nod. “Yes.”

His eyes shift, the dark onyx pivoting left and right with a contemplative gate. Then, Riley looks back to you, almost silently pressing for you to answer. And it’s then that you hesitate. You stutter over your response, the words too heavy to speak and he understands. 

“How long has this been going on? Does anyone else know?”

You want to laugh and you half-heartedly do, the sound dry and cynical in your throat. Your back presses straight into the booth seat. “I-saw saw him a few nights ago in my home!” your voice is a sharp whisper, “and I told my doctor and— and she told me that I was hallucinating, that it was just a mental relapse and I—” 

Your body jerks forward as your hands cup your face, tears sting the line of your vision. You just want to live life normally. All you want is to be left in peace. Why couldn't the past just let you go?

“I— I don’t know what to do, Riley… I really don’t.”

The muscles beneath your skin contract and pull tightly, almost painfully so, your body begins to tremble with vibrating distress. “I feel like nobody believes me, I thought I could ask for your help or the Sheriff’s— Riley, I— can’t do this. I can’t…”

Your breathing becomes terribly shaken, sniffling as you attempt to calm yourself. Your body falls forward more and the instinct to crawl into a ball is powerfully overwhelming. You can feel the condensating judgment of the other diner dwellers, eyes shifting uncomfortably between you and their own business. The way that someone clears their throat loudly, stool squeaking under their weight and the ruffle of a newspaper obscuring one of the lonely patrons in the back booth, your blurry vision unable to comprehend the printed bold title or the gloved hands that hold it. 

You press your head against your folded arms that lay on the table, barely making out the quickened hush of Riley’s voice coaxing you. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” His hand reaches out for you and it touches you, you feel the warmth of his hand against you. 

“I believe you.”

Your tear ridden eyes raise up to meet Riley’s eyes, a gasp hitched in your throat. You choke out softly. “Y-you do?”

“Yes.” He leans forward that bit closer. “And I will protect you.”

His words are a relief, a form of assurance to cling to like a lifeline. That’s all you wanted to hear. You try to mirror his smile before the waitress comes over, coffee pot held in her grip. 

“Need anything else, Deputy?” she asks and Riley motions to you with a nod of his stubbled chin. Cheeks flushed with a rosy tinge and eyes puffy, you wipe away the stray rivers of drying tears and lower your eyes away from the waitress.

“Just a coffee to go, her usual. Put it on my tab and uh…” Your heart almost skips a beat the way he looks to you, dimpled cheeks as he smiles a bit wider and his dark eyes seemingly aglow with a honeyed tint. “Some apple pie or that new chocolate chip muffin cake they got?”

“Thanks again, Riley,” you say, hand rumbling the paper back in your palm a distant tune as you take a small sip from your coffee. Already, you were beginning to feel better as you walked with Riley out to his car. 

“No problem. Told you I’d look out for ya when you first moved here, didn’t I?”

The memory of your first meeting brings a small smile to your lips, eyes once sunken and gloomy lighting up through the thin stream from the coffee cup. “Yeah. Still, I’m grateful for all you’re doing. I had hope but… I didn’t want to count on anything, you know, just in case you didn’t believe me.”

“Just know that you’re not alone. Anything, and I mean it, anything else happens or you don’t wanna be alone up there,” he says and pulls out his notepad and pen. He scribbles something down and hands the torn out page to you, his touch mingling against yours as you take it from between his fingers. “Just call me and I’ll be right over. Don’t worry about the hour or anything, on duty or off, I’ll find a way to you.”

The coffee and muffin cake, the caring personality, giving his private phone number to you; what could it all mean? For a split second you forget that you’re in the midst of a stalker case, that you are being haunted by the very manifestation of your past. Something in your brain offers you a second’s respite that this is just an ordinary meeting between two people, a regular occurrence that feels like a date. It’s nice to feel this sense of normalcy. 

But in staring at the digits of his number a little longer, that facade falls away, leaving you to remember why he was helping you; giving you so much attention. 

“Again, thank you.”

“I’ll also pass it on to the Sheriff and get his say on it. Find out what we can do to catch this guy.” 

You nod as though to agree, that there is a chance that they will catch him. You wish it were possible but with what you’ve seen, what you have come to know about the Winter Soldier… all capture of him is impossible. Even if they somehow manage to track him down, he’ll be gone before they can dream of getting him. 

He’s a ghost among men. 

“Do you think the Sheriff will believe it?” you ask Riley, watching carefully as he clicks his tongue and the skin under his eye wrinkles. 

“He’s dealt with a few cases like this before when he worked in the city. There haven't been many stalker cases here.” He shrugs then, looking around. “But even if he doesn’t, then just know you have me. I’ll make sure that you never have to worry about him again. You’re going to be okay. I’m here for you.”

That’s all he needed to hear. So, this Riley would now be an obstacle of justice in his way. Newspaper hiding the device sat on the table, the wired bud linked to his ear to listen to the bug he’d placed in your bag. 

He had to listen to the way Riley was sweet talking you, how he made you feel safe. Protected. Something burns a hole in his chest and makes his blood run hot at the sight of another man making you smile. He had to sit back as he offered to drive you back home and further insist when you at first refused, only to then give in. He had to watch from the cover of his position as you dare get into another man’s car after he opens his door for you. 

Of course, how could he blame him? You were a pretty little doll. But you were his pretty little doll. His little rabbit that he took great delight in chasing after, watching you whimper and fall apart under him, around him during those late and intimate hours. 

His bright, icy blue eyes grow darker, colder with hate and seething possessiveness. He won’t let a badge stand in his way. Six long years it’s taken him. He lost you once and he will make sure that you never leave him again. 

After Riley had dropped you off, you had made the rounds of alternating the security system and changed the digital pins. You did it every day to ensure that nothing was left to chance. 

When nightfall broke over the valley and you were left in a dark, snowy solitude by yourself, you drew all curtains to close, gritting your teeth at the chattering of the rings on the pole. 

You ignored the rattling tap of the tree branch you still haven’t managed to deal with. You did what work you could, tried to relax after making yourself some dinner and a warm beverage, all the while caught in a silent and haunting conflict.

You knew that Riley was just a call away. Anytime, anything you needed and he was there. But you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched by a predator. 

Now you lay in bed, fast asleep around the 12:15am after you took some of that medication to help you sleep. It did wonders for nights that felt restless. They just still seem to not impact the side effect of waking up with a scream in your throat at the cost of your nightmares. 

But tonight, it seems you’re granted respite. Your hips roll against something that in turn mimics the action against you. A soft, crackly whimper parts your lips and you feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through your abdomen, twisting blissfully and you moan aloud.

He loves the sounds you make for him in your sleep. They way that even when your conscious mind isn’t awake, your body complies to the pleasure he gives you. He doesn’t want to think about Riley having you like this. It only speeds up the ruthlessness of his thrusts that ring your cunt walls around his length, your slick coating him as he sheathes in and out, in and out fast and unfashionably quick. 

A mix of flesh and metal hold you down on the bed by your hips, fingers leaving a painful reminder on the supple there; a small puzzle piece for you to discover in the grand scheme of plan for you. 

You moan again but it’s cut up, jostled with a bubbly whine as you struggle to breathe air into your lungs. Your thighs tremble and squeeze tight around whatever force that pistons between them. Your voice chokes on a whimpered sound of a name.

His heart sinks…

Your walls clench around him when he hits that spot and you cry out, stirred from your dreams and the creaking of your bed is heard in the otherwise deafening silence. That and muffled, masculine pants.

Your vision is blurred by the cover of sleep but your reaction doesn't take long to take place. 

Your eyes are shot wide open and your mouth falls agape with a scream, “Solda— mmm! Mmfmm!”

His gloved hand shoots out to cover your mouth and nose, muffling the sound of your terrified screams and he forces his thrusts to quicken. He doesn’t pay any sort of worried attention to the reflective glisten of tears in your eyes, highlighting the colour of them beautifully. You cried so much from the pleasure he brought you to in those late hours that he can no longer tell the difference. He grunts at the way your slick and hot walls surround him. How he’s missed this. 

Your stomach churns and twists, but your body visibly shakes and your skin goes between cold flushed and heated surges as your cunt swallows every single inch he gives you. His pace has only increased, the bevel between his dark brows shows and nothing else you can see — want to see — is hidden by that mask. With a final groan he cums, pulling out just as the first spurts paint over your outer folds and clit, smearing across your lower belly. You feel like your body has become numb with fear. 

“He stays away from what’s mine… or he dies.”

[ameagrice]

Capsize

chapter twenty-nine | little talks

percy jackson x fem reader

“Help me,” you whispered, so lowly you worried it was too low for Travis to hear a thing you said. “I can’t stay here.”

The wind howled wherever he was outside of camp, and car horns blared in the background. Outside of your bedroom, your dad raged in the hallway, steadily making his way to your room. One by one, thick bangs indicated new holes in walls. Rachel was screaming, too, but not in anger—she was pleading with him to stop, as the baby screamed like he never had before.

That had set him off—Finney’s screaming in the night. Maybe it was a nightmare, or maybe he was in pain. Nothing changed. And you had no control over it.

“How far even is Sydney from here?” Travis asked desperately, exhaling slowly. “Like, a day’s flight?”

There was the issue of getting out. Getting here had been easy—your dad’s money; your dad asking for a do-over; your dad’s want. How was it possible to leave now, with ten dollars to your name, Finney in pain, and Rachel alone with him? How would you make it back to the States without his money? Which, he would without a doubt, notice missing.

“You’ve gotta help me,” you whispered helplessly into Rachel’s stolen phone, watching the sea from your bedroom window. It calmly lapped the shore.

Nothing but Travis, poor Travis, and his helpless breathing on the other end of the line.

“I’ll see you soon, Travis,” you uttered softly, taking the phone away from your ear, ending the call with a press of a button, before smashing it over, and over, against the corner of your drawer.

You’d find a way to pay Rachel back for breaking her phone.

As you threw things into a backpack—leggings, toothbrush, favourite plushie and iPod—you muttered aloud to whatever Gods you could think of.

Hermes, for safety, the patron of travellers.

Ares, for the strength your anger gave you, and bravery you needed, hands shaking.

And your mother, to save your life. To watch over you.

They were so into their arguing, nobody noticed you slip out of your bedroom and racing down the stairs, raincoat on, and sneakers messily laced. Every sense in your body screamed run! and your eyes drifted over a hole in the wall with no photograph to cover it just yet. Your bones physically ached to take Finney in your arms and hush him to sleep, to save his poor throat from the soreness that would come from all his terror.

Maybe Rachel would see sense.

Unbelievable to yourself, Ares was the god you prayed to, not stopping at the bottom of the stairs, heading straight for the front door.

Annabeth’s house was the exact image of happy, and well-lived in. A little kid’s winter coat lay on the floor, and the whole house smelled of cookies. The coffee table in the living room was stacked high with books of all kinds, from wars to fairy tales, the wood stained with what must have been years of being used.

Her dad, for all the bad that Annabeth had said about him, seemed lovely. He seemingly wasn’t fussed about the children’s clothes on the sofa, or the gaggle of random teens in his house…the kind of parent you wished for.

You sighed, eyeing the home. Annabeth didn’t know how good she had it.

Photographs lined up along the walls, and stood in pretty framed on the windowsill. You were sure, almost certain, that if you moved aside the frames on the walls, there would be no holes underneath them, plaster torn through from anger, covered up in odd places with different-sized frames.

Your fingers itched just to see.

There were Lego robots on the stairs, when you turned around to admire the house, and a cat stretched out in a patch of dying sunlight at the bottom of the staircase. Jazz music floated throughout from the kitchen.

You were so jealous, you could have strangled Annabeth for giving this up.

“Dad!” A little boy screamed. You jumped easily. “He’s taking apart my robots!”

“Bobby,” Mr. Chase called absently, “stop doing that.”

“I’m Bobby!” The boy protested. “He’s Matthew!”

“Matthew, don’t take apart your brother’s robots!”

“Okay!”

Annabeth’s dad turned to you, looking you over properly. He hadn’t so much as really looked at anyone since inviting you in. “Let’s go upstairs and talk in my study…”

You knew what it was the second that he paused.

“Are you…?” He blinked, wide-eyed. “Do you know my Annabeth?”

The eyes. Always the eyes.

“My

Annabeth”

And, Gods, would anyone talk about you like that? Earnestly, and wholeheartedly? Not as a possession to be moved around at will, as you’d experienced, but somebody who was wanted, and very clearly, loved. To belong to somebody with care.

Annabeth was due a lecture. You decided that firmly.

You shifted on your hip, hands in pockets. “She’s my sister.”

He ah’d silently, and then waved his hand briefly to you. “I figured. The—”

“Eyes?” You finished at the same time, and heat spread across your cheeks. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Frederick?”

Your gaze fell behind Annabeth’s dad, to a pretty Asian woman standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She was taller than you, shorter than Mr. Chase, and her hair—god, you would have died for hair like that—was glossy-looking and tinted red, and she held a pair of kids’ shoes in her hand.

“Who are our guests?” She asked.

“Oh, uh…this is…”

He stared at your group blankly.

“Frederick!” She chided. “You forgot to ask them their names?”

You introduced yourselves a little uneasily, but Mrs. Chase seemed nice. Especially when she offered cookies.

“Dear, they came about Annabeth.”

You weren’t sure what you expected from her reaction-wise, but a simple concerned look wasn’t enough for you. “Alright. Go on up to the study and I’ll bring you some food up.” She smiled. “Nice meeting you, Percy. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

It was as if the blood in your body halted, and a strange feeling overcame you. Without really meaning to, you were sure you pulled a face. Thalia, beside you, snickered quietly.

The ‘study’ wasn’t what you’d expected at all, certainly not for a grown man with children. Then again, perhaps he’d built this just for them. The thought made you feel warm inside, and oddly, spiteful; planes you recognised from history movies dangled on clear string from the ceiling, circling over a home-made demonstration of a fort, all cliffs and grass and the sense of death.

A war, Frederick Chase had built in his home.

You didn’t care much for whatever they talked about behind you; Zoe muttering something about enemy lines, Percy’s butting in, and Mr. Chase’s answering patiently. Instead, your interest piqued at a globe sitting on a tabletop to the side of the room, surrounded by well-loved books, slightly dusty and sitting askew atop of one another. You reached your hand out, and gently pushed the globe around, spinning it idly. Your eyes wandered.

A ratty, once-adored stuffed animal, now vaguely resembling an elephant, sat alone in a corner made by books, staring up at you. Was this Annabeth’s? Had she at one point abandoned this little guy in search of peace the way you had recently done to Finney?

It hurt so bad to think about, that it didn’t bear thinking about at all.

Either way, your heart clenched for your family.

The afternoon light was quickly changing, darkening, and you found the strength to speak up and bring to attention the problems that needed solving—ones that you were not at all prepared to take on any time soon alone. Your mind, for all people praised children of Athena, was not well-equipped for these situations. You weren’t smart enough, you felt.

And it was proving itself to be the case, too.

Just luck something in you persuaded. It’s all just bad luck.

You allowed Percy and Thalia to explain everything to Annabeth’s father, who, after paying great attention to even the side-tracking Percy inevitably talked, collapsed into an old armchair beside the desk you perched on the edge of. He laced his hands, looking worn and stressed.

“My poor brave Annabeth,” he said, quietly.

The cookie in your hand crunched and crumbled all over the desk, and pure bitterness scraped your insides.

“Sir,” Zoe brought you out of your thoughts. “We need transportation to Mount Tamalpais. And we need it immediately.”

He nodded. Mr. Chase blinked at his coffee table, absent in thought. “I’ll take you. Hmm…it would be faster to fly in my Camel. But it only seats two…”

Your mind snapped to attention. “Wait, you have an actual Sopwith Camel just chilling around?”

Mr. Chase nodded as though it was normal as anything. “Down at Chrissy Field. That’s the reason I moved here. My sponsor is a private collector with some of the world’s finest World War I relics in the world. He let me restore the Sopwith Camel—”

“Sir,” Thalia cut in, “a car would be just great. And it might be better if we went without you. It’s too dangerous.”

Mr. Chase visibly deflated in his armchair, frowning uncomfortably. “Now wait a minute, young lady. Annabeth is my daughter. Dangerous or not, I can’t just—”

“Snacks!” Mrs. Chase announced, bustling into the room with a tray of goods.

“I can drive, sir,” said Zoe. “I’m not as young as I look. I promise not to destroy your car.”

Mrs. Chase knit her eyebrows. “What’s this about?”

“Annabeth is in danger,” said Mr. Chase. “On Mount Tam. I would take them…but apparently it’s no place for mortals.”

To your surprise, Mrs. Chase nodded, not questioning it. Maybe she was used to this stuff by now. “They’d better get going then.”

“Right!” He jumped up, and started patting his pockets. “I…need to just get my keys…”

His wife sighed. “Honestly, Frederick, you’d lose your head if it wasn’t constantly in your hat.” Relatable. “They’re downstairs, on the peg by the door.”

“Right!”

Zoe grabbed a sandwich, and you stuffed a couple of cookies in your backpack, uncaring for the crumbs. “Thank you both. We should go. Now.”

Everyone headed for the stairs, Mr. Chase first—he walked quickly with urgency in his steps, and you wandered, would anyone ever act this way for you? Travis, maybe, at some point, if the time ever called for it. He’d shown that he cared. Or at least, you thought he did. Percy, too, who pulled you back-to-back with him earlier, protecting one another.

“Percy!” Mrs. Chase called. You waited at Mr. Chase’s side, at the front door, hands in your pockets. “Tell Annabeth…tell her, she still has a home here, will you? Remind her of that.”

For a second, you closed your eyes, and let yourself be lost in imagination. The sound of happy children playing, standing beside a father who cared, who was light with warmth and love. The feeling of pure safety in the home.

For a second, you let yourself feel this.

After the car blew up, and you spent a good few minutes with Percy picking car pieces out of your hair and skin, you had thought perhaps nothing else could go wrong.

But this was a quest you were supposed to be a part of, so of course something else did go wrong.

“Silence, fool!” Zoe hissed, pulling Percy and big mouth down behind a rock. “Do you want to wake Ladon?”

“You mean we’re here?” You asked. This was it? The road was shrouded with thick fog, ahead of you, the mountain was even darker.

“Very close,” she said. “Follow me.”

Fog drifted across the road, and shivers crawled up your back. Zoe stepped out into it and disappeared completely.

“Focus on her,” said Thalia. “The Mist is really strong here. Just step into the fog and focus on Zoe.”

Apprehension became you, but you did as she said. Zoe was nowhere to be seen at first, but the more you concentrated on finding her, the dog cleared, and the road became dirt, and the dirt lead to the mountain. And then there was Zoe and Thalia, and Percy just behind you.

Your breath was stolen pretty quickly. The grass was thicker, the sunset a bloody slash across the sky, hues of peach and amber colliding. The summit of the mountain was closer, now, swirling with dark clouds and power above. There was only one path right in front of you, leaden with beautiful flowers and trees, pink blossoms and bright purples you couldn’t name. It lead to a darker forest of shadows and flowers that glowed.

You weren’t sure how you knew, but…

“The garden of twilight,” you muttered. Zoe’s head snapped to you.

The grass shimmered with silvery, dewy light, the flowers such brilliant colours they flowed and lit the darkness around you. Black, polished marble steps danced around a five-storey tall golden apple tree, literal golden apples, glimmering and glowing amongst the rich green leaves.

“Hera’s apples of immortality,” Thalia said lowly. “A wedding gift from Zeus.”

You were tempted to step right up and grab one, except you found the danger quickly.

The dragon, curled around the tree. The dragon, bigger than you could have ever imagined one, and with more heads than it was possible to count. He appeared to be sleeping.

Something in the darkness caught your attention. The shadows began to move, an eerie singing beginning. You clutched your dagger harder.

Four figures appeared, girls in white greek chitons. They were beautiful, and, with a shiver, you noticed they resembled Zoe Nightshade. Or, rather, she resembled them.

“Sisters,” Zoe said with a small sigh.

“We do not see any sister,” one of the girls said coldly. “We see three half-bloods and a Hunter. All of whom will soon die.”

“Don’t worry about being pessimistic,” you muttered. Percy elbowed you, firmly.

“You’ve got it wrong,” he stepped forward. “Nobody is going to die.”

But…you had that feeling again. The one before Bianca. And you couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or foreshadowing. Whichever it was, it made you feel sick, nonetheless, and helpless.

“Perseus Jackson,” one of them said.

“Yes, I do not see how he is a threat.”

“Who said I’m a threat?”

The first girl glanced behind her, toward the top of the mountain. “They are unhappy that this one has not yet killed thee,” she pointed to Thalia. “They fear thee.”

“Tempting, sometimes,” Thalia said. “But no, thanks. He’s my friend.”

“There are no friends here, Daughter of Zeus. Only enemies. Turn back.”

“Not without Annabeth,” she moved forward.

“And Artemis. We must approach the mountain.”

“You know he will kill thee. You are no match for him.” One of the girls scoffed.

“Artemis must be freed. Let us pass.”

“You have no rights here anymore.” Harsh. “We have only to raise our voices and Ladon will wake.”

“He will not harm me,” Zoe shook her head gently.

“No? And what about thy so-called friends?”

Then, Zoe did the last thing you wished she would. She clapped her hands, and yelled. “Ladon! Wake!”

The dragon’s eyes snapped open instantly. He glittered like a mountain of coins, just as everything in your body shivered.

Your heart took cover.

Zoe’s sisters scattered. One of the girls was furious. “Are you mad?!”

“You never had any courage, sister. That is thy problem.”

You’d never seen Zoe so forward, and confident. Confidence outside of your comfort zone was different. But you knew to be confident and strong against your family was a different kind.

Ladon was awake, now, a hundred heads hissing and swirling. You wanted to back up, and leave this place. Zoe, standing ahead of you all, looked up at him with nothing but surety. Thalia had shifted, and Percy was still as anything beside you, the two of you looking with your heads tipped back.

Your lungs chose the awfully wrong time to deflate. Because in the light of the glowing flowers, and the danger on the breeze, Percy’s eyes were bright green, his tan skin aglowing, and his dark hair looked glossier than ever. The perfect edge to his nose, shining ever so slightly. His mouth was slightly agape in—shock? Confusion? Horror?

The most heavenly boy to exist.

“Let’s go,” you decided, the first to make a move.

“Ladon is trained to protect the tree,” Zoe said, moving forward toward the dragon. She raised her arms out to him as if she were welcoming a best friend home, not a killing machine. “Skirt around the edges of the garden. I am a bigger threat. Go up toward the mountain. As long as I’m here, he should ignore thee.”

“Should?” Percy snapped. “Not exactly reassuring.”

Your body turned cold. “No. Come on. Let’s all just run for it. Nobody gets left behind.”

Thalia looked at you and nodded. “Zoe. Let’s go.”

“It is the only way. Even the four of us together cannot fight him.”

Ladon opened his mouths. The sound of a hundred heads hissing at once sent a shiver down your back, and that was before his breath hit your nose. The smell was like acid. It made your eyes burn, your skin crawl, and your hair stand on end. Combine all that with spearmint, and you were good to remember it for life.

Thalia and Percy had already left your side, skirting around the edge of the garden as Zoe had told them to. But something didn’t feel right about that, to you.

You crept up beside Zoe. Very firmly, you said, “I’ll stay with you. We ain’t leaving anybody.”

She looked horrified, and it was such an un-Zoe-like expression that it instantly freaked you out. “No—go, now.”

“No! You don’t leave friends behind!” You fought, gripping your dagger for dear life. An awful, awful feeling had taken over your body.

She pressed her mouth together unhappily, but some other look drew over her face, and she nodded once, determinedly.

She walked toward the dragon, voice calm. “It’s me, Ladon. I’m home.”

As long as I’m here, he should ignore thee, she had said. You waited for her to get closer to him before you shifted into gear, too. The aim being to draw attention away from Thalia and Percy. When they were past, you’d try to make your way up the mountain, and hope that Zoe going last would mean the dragon would let you mostly pass before you had to fight for your lives.

The eldest of Zoe’s sisters’ voice flowed in the air as they left. “Fool.”

“I used to feed thee by hand,” Zoe continued in a soothing voice. “Do you remember?”

There were many words you could think of to describe Zoe Nightshade in that moment and what had come before, but only one came to mind, full force—Brave.

She kept talking, and the heads switched their attention between you and her. Trying to keep it all solely off of Zoe, you watched it carefully, walking backward up the mountain, unable to watch your footing. Zoe caught on to what you were doing, and began to move, too.

For whatever reason, the air shifted.

The dragon lunged.

Two thousand years of training kept Zoe alive. She jumped over one set of heads snarling and snapping at her and tumbled under another set, springing to her feet. You ran together, at pace, at the same footsteps, toward the others. Your heart pumped furiously, pushing you onward, getting ready.

Percy had drawn his sword, but Zoe panted. “No! Run!” She screamed.

Something tensed inside of you. You looked to Zoe at your side, and your eyes widened, horrified. “Move!” Your hand reached out…

Too slow.

The dragon snapped at her side, and she yelped, crying out. Her footing slipped, but you didn’t hesitate to snatch her by the arm, holding her up. She didn’t stop, despite the obvious pain she must have been in.

You ran up the mountain, Thalia and Percy not too far behind. The dragon hissed and stomped, but as Zoe had said, he was trained to protect the tree. So he moved no further, no longer persuing you.

A song was in the air. Of sadness, of death.

At the top of mountain were ruins, blocks of black granite and marble as big as houses. Broken columns. Statues of bronze that looked as though they’d been half melted.

“The ruins of Mount Othrys,” Thalia whispered in awe.

“Yes,” Zoe said. “It was not here before. This is bad.” You watched for any aspect of pain, heart pounding.

“What’s Mount Othrys?” Percy asked.

“The mountain fortress of the Titans,” Zoe said. “In the first war, Olympus and Othrys were the two rival capitals of the world. Othrys was—” She winced and held her side.

“You’re hurt,” you said. “Let me see.”

“No! I’m not. It’s fine. I was saying, in the first war, Othrys was blasted to pieces.”

“But…how is it here?”

Thalia looked around cautiously as you picked your way through rubble and dirt, blocks of marble and broken archways.

“It moves in the same way that Olympus moves, right?”

Thalia blinked. “Right. It always exists on the edges of civilisation. But the fact that it is here, on this mountain, is not good.”

“Why?”

“This is Altas’s mountain,” said Zoe. “This is where he holds—” she froze. Her voice was ragged with despair. “Where he held up the world.”

You had reached the summit. A few yards ahead, grey clouds swirled in a heavy vortex, making a funnel cloud that almost touched the mountaintop, but instead rested on the shoulders of a twelve-year-old girl with auburn hair and a tattered silvery dress: Artemis, her legs bound to the rock with celestial bronze chains.

Zoe gasped and rushed forward. “My lady!”

Artemis shook her head as best she could, shaking. “No! It is a trap! You must go now!” Her voice was strained, and she looked to be in so much pain, that your soul cried out to help. She was covered in sweat, and visibly struggling.

Zoe was crying. Despite what Artemis said, she ran forward and dropped to her knees before her, tugging at the chains.

A booming voice spoke from behind you. “Ah, how touching.”

Everyone turned. Zoe sniffled, shifting on her knee to look as well. There the General stood in a brown suit. At his side was Luke Castellan, worn and weary-faced, alongside over a good hundred dracaenae bearing a golden sarcophagus. You didn’t need anyone to explain. You knew who that was for.

A head of dirty hair caught your eye. She was small next to Luke and the monsters, with a gag in her mouth and her hands bound. Luke held the tip of a knife against her throat. Her eyes were wide with pleading, and glassy. Annabeth. Your sister.

She met your gaze. And sent you only one message.

RUN!

“Luke,” Thalia snarled. “Let her go.”

Luke’s smile was weak, so weak, and pale. “That is the General’s decision, Thalia. But it’s good to see you again.”

Thalia spat at him.

Observant, as you always were, you paid attention to many things all at once; Percy’s awestruck eyes on your sister; Thalia’s pure disgust; Annabeth’s pain; Zoe Nightshade falling to rest from her knees; Artemis’s silver eyes drifting between every member present.

The General chuckled. “So much for old friends. And you, Zoe. How is my little traitor? I will enjoy killing you.”

“Do not respond,” Artemis groaned. “Do not challenge him, Zoe.”

It clicked instantly.

“Wait a second.” As it did for Percy, too. “You’re Atlas?”

The General’s eyes laid lazily on him. “So, even the stupidest of heroes can finally figure something out. Yes, I am Atlas, the General of the Titans and the terror of the Gods. Congratulations.” He drawled. “I will kill you presently, as soon as I have dealt with this wretched girl.”

“You’re not going to hurt Zoe,” said Percy. “I won’t let you.”

“You have no right to interfere, little hero. This is a family matter.”

“A family matter?”

“Yes,” Zoe said bleakly. “Atlas is my father.”

Pain. That’s all it is.

Y/N understands girls watching out for girls, and friends looking after friends. Nobody gets left behind.

songs I listened to writing this chapter:

— little talks, of mice and men

— riptide, vax

— dog days are over, Florence

all on the capsize playlist! :)

Taglist: @bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @crackerphobic20 @jessiegerl @mata0-0mata @jccc1000 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @i-love-books-and-the-bible

[hllywdwhre]

Dreamer, Queen, Prince - Chapter 3

Pairing: Daemyra x fem!OC

Warnings: Please check masterlist for warnings. This work is 18+, MDNI

Masterlist

The cold air bit at Viserea’s cheeks as she waited for Winterfell’s gates to be opened. Viserea had seen a moon come and go during her stay in Winterfell and she was unsure on if she would enjoy being back in the keep or miss Winterfell more. She could see how Tessarion was pacing in the main field in front of Winterfell’s gates and knew she was pondering the same thought.

After the oaths of loyalty were made, Benjen had offered a place for Viserea in Winterfell. He said he knew that she would not stay there permanently, but that he and the rest of the Starks wanted to finally meet their relative. Viserea had not allowed herself to make second guesses and had accepted immediately. Rickon stayed in King’s Landing for two weeks longer than his father before returning to Winterfell, saying that he would send a raven to her when the worst of their winter was over. A couple months later, the raven arrived and Viserea had plans made to fly to Winterfell.

Though the cold weather took some adjusting, she found she felt the same safety in Winterfell that she did at Dragonstone. She was finally able to see where her mother was put to rest and even spent a short while praying to her. All of the residents of Winterfell had welcomed her in as if she had grown up there and had no problem in explaining the histories of the North. Some of the braver souls had even asked to see Tessarion up close.

Viserea felt someone wrap themselves around her leg and she looked down at the child of only four, smiling.

“Must you leave already, cousin?” Cregan asked, pushing his bottom lip into a pout. Viserea crouched down next to him and hugged him tightly.

“I am afraid so. My duty lies back in King’s Landing and I have already been granted a moon’s cycle away from them. If I am to be a good Hand to the future Queen, I cannot avoid them any longer.” Pushing a piece of his dark hair away from his face, Viserea kissed the child’s forehead.

“Will you be visiting again soon?” He asked.

“I swear it by the old gods and the new.” Viserea answered.

Her response seemed to satisfy the boy and he ran back to where his parents stood, the rest having already bid their farewells.

Once the gates were opened, Viserea made her way to where Tessarion stood, a happy chirp escaping the mighty dragon in a greeting. It was still dark outside, the sun not even breaking the horizon yet, but the moonlight reflected off the thick covering of snow enough that Viserea could easily mount Tessarion. Usually, Viserea wouldn’t travel so early on dragonback, but she wanted to make it back to King’s Landing in time for the small council meeting. Viserys had made it so the meeting would be held in the early afternoon that day so Viserea could attend it.

At Viserea’s command, Tessarion took to the skies and began the flight to King’s Landing. As the flight stretched on, Viserea found herself more and more excited to be returning to the keep. No. She was not excited to be back at the keep. She was excited to see the woman waiting for her at the keep.

Rhaenyra and her had made sure to keep in touch using ravens and Rhaenyra had even informed her of any important discussions in the council while she was away. The letters were not the same as their conversations in Valyrian and there was no replacement for the feeling of Rhaenyra’s lips on hers.

The flight could not come to an end soon enough for Viserea, though she knew Tessarion was enjoying stretching her wings and being back in her normal climate. While she was allowed to be unrestrained outside the walls of Winterfell and Viserea knew she had enjoyed it, the cold climate had affected her appetite and she did not hold the same excitement for flying as she did. The warmer weather had already brought more excitement from the dragon.

“Nepot, Tessarion. (To the pit.)” Viserea commanded and the dragon reacted, slowly lowering its height and slowing its speed until they came to a landing in the dragonpit.

Viserea returned every greeting and welcome back she received as she dismounted the dragon, removed the fur covering she wore was no longer necessary, and made her way to the carriage that awaited her.

A large smile spread across her face when she saw Rhaenyra standing at the foot of the steps and she ran the last couple steps, flinging herself into the Princess’ arms and hugging her tightly. They pulled away a moment later and Rhaenyra was pulling Viserea into the carriage.

Once inside the privacy of the carriage, Rhaenyra’s hands cupped Viserea’s face and her lips were firmly placed on the other’s. Viserea returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around Rhaenyra’s waist and pulling her closer to her. It wasn’t until the two needed to breathe that they finally broke away from each other.

“You are never allowed to leave me alone for that long again.” Rhaenyra said, smiling at Viserea from where she now sat next to her.

“If I receive a greeting like that every time I return, I might have no choice.” Viserea teased, causing a slight pink flush to rise on Rhaenyra’s face.

“As your future Queen, I forbid it.” Rhaenyra’s tone was joking and light and Viserea knew Rhaenyra would never truly restrict her that way.

“Then it would be simply treasonous for me to disobey you.” Viserea replied and leaned in to lightly kiss her once more, “What did I miss here that brought you such torture?”

“It is not what you missed, but what did not take place. The only thing of interest that you missed was the war in the Stepstones reaching new heights.”

“I read your letter of the Sea Snake sending out his own ships and men to help. Has anything else happened?” The switch to Valyrian also switched the tone in which the two spoke. They were no longer in a relaxed state of reunification and were now speaking seriously to each other.

“Not that we’ve been informed of, but we did receive some unfortunate news this morning.” Rhanyra’s face fell as she continued, “Ser Ryam passed last night. His condition worsened rapidly after your departure and he went in his sleep.”

The news caused Viserea’s face to mimic the look of sadness on Rhaenyra’s. Ser Ryam wasn’t assigned to either of them, but his presence was a constant for them and they knew they would miss him.

“I’m glad he went peacefully. He was an honorable member of the Kingsgaurd.” Viserea said, knowing there was not much else she could do.

Once they reached the keep, the doors to the carriage were opened and they were both greeted. A small welcoming party was gathered to welcome Viserea back and she returned all of their greetings to her. The two made their way inside and to the dining hall where they ate their lunch. After they were finished, Viserea told Rhaenyra she would see her soon at the council meeting and she made her way to her chambers.

Another smile broke on her face when she saw Amarda already inside her chambers and filling her bathtub.

“Princess, I’m grateful for your safe return from Winterfell. How was the journey?” Amarda’s question was punctuated with a giggle as she was hugged by Viserea.

“The journey went well, I believe Tessarion enjoyed stretching her wings, but I have missed you dearly. The handmaidens in Winterfell never stopped being nervous around me. I missed your honesty… and your gorgeous braids.” Viserea told her, making the woman smile at her.

“That is because the handmaidens in Winterfell treat you as a Princess. I would be scolded greatly by any other noble for the lack of formality I have with you.” Amarda said as she helped Viserea take off the riding clothes and step into the tub.

The scented oils that Amarda always added helped Viserea relax into the water and Viserea allowed Amarda to do as she pleased as she spoke to her.

“No one else in Winterfell held such formalities after three days. They still greeted me as Princess no matter my protests, though I’m sure Lord Benjen had told them to do so, but they quickly began treating me as if I was one of them.”

“That is because you are one of them in their eyes. They understand you are the Princess, but your mother was loved by everyone in Winterfell and you are her daughter as much as you are your father’s. Loyalty is not taken lightly in the North.” Amarda explained to her.

The rest of the time went by quickly. After her bath, Viserea was dressed and her hair was done in one of Amarda’s braids that she had missed dearly.

Ser Ryden was waiting outside Viserea’s door when she went to leave for the council meeting and asked her about her travels, saying he was glad she was back. Viserea offered her condolences to him over Ryam’s passing which he thanked her for and soon they were outside the doors of the council room. Rhaenyra was the only other one in the room when they arrived, though the rest of the council soon joined them.

After Rhaenyra was named heir and had appointed Viserea as her future hand, the two had been told they were both to attend every council meeting as cupbearers as a way to prepare themselves more.

As Rhaenyra and Viserea began filling the cups for the members, Viserea noticed Corlys’ lack of presence when Viserys sat and signaled for the meeting to begin.

“Ser Ryam was a strong Lord Commander of the Kingsgaurd, but he was ill for some time. He passed in peace, I hope.” Viserys said, looking to the maester.

“Yes, Your Grace. He passed peacefully in his sleep, and his remains are being prepared by the Silent Sisters. The succeeding Lord Commander, Ser Harrold, would like to make haste in finding Ser Ryam’s replacement on the Kingsgaurd.” The maester replied.

Viserea glanced towards Rhaenyra, knowing this meant she would be receiving a new guard soon.

“Your Grace. My Lords.” Ser Harrold spoke from beside Viserea and stepped up to the table, “The Kingsgaurd must soon be restored to its full complement of seven. With the help of the Hand, I’ve invited a number of fine candidates to court. All have passed fair trials.”

Otto’s definition of “fair trials” was yet to be determined by Viserea. She trusted Ser Harrold, though, and knew that he would not allow anyone less than excellent in his ranks.

Viserea and Rhaenyra both moved to the wine table, making themselves busy as Corlys suddenly entered the room.

“Four ships have now been lost. The last one was flying my banner! The Stepstones have now grown into a conflagration, yet you sit here and dither about court business.” Corlys said, not caring what conversation he interrupted.

Viserea looked to Rhaenyra and their eyes met, both of them communicating without words. If one of Corlys’ ships went down, a war was sure to start, whether the King wished it or not.

“If you’ve something to discuss, Lord Corlys-“ Viserea smirked as Otto’s sentence was cut short and turned to face the group of men as Corlys spoke.

“I want to know what is to be done about my ships and my men.”

“The crown will compensate you for your ship and crew, and make an offering to the men’s families.”

“I don’t want compensation. I want to seize the Stepstones by force and burn out this Crabfeeder.” Corlys told Otto as if it was obvious.

Viserea and Rhaenyra both moved towards the table, though Viserea moved to stand closer to where Corlys stood at the end of table.

“I am not prepared to start a war with the Free Cities.” Viserys said calmly.

“These pirates are not the Free Cities.” Corlys argued, holding eye contact with the King from across the table.

“Who do you think provides them with their ships and tender?” Viserys asked, and Lord Strong was quick to back the King’s point.

“In all of its history, my lord, the Seven Kingdoms have never entered open war with the Free Cities. Were that to happen, the losses would be incalculable.”

“And the loss of the trading ports is calculable?” Viserea asked, looking down next to her where he sat.

All eyes were on her as he stuttered for a moment, but Corlys interrupted him before he could speak again.

“What reason does the Crabfeeder have to fear us?” Corlys asked, now standing directly beside Viserea as he glanced around the table, “The King’s own brother has been allowed to seize Dragonstone and fortify it with an army of his gold cloaks. Daemon has squatted there for over a half a year without even a protest from The Crown.”

Daemon’s name being mentioned sent Viserea’s heart stuttering, though she ignored it. She still had not forgiven him for his betrayal six months earlier, but she was no longer angry. Just hurt.

“I’ll caution you, Lord Corlys, a seat at the King’s table does not make you his equal.” Otto warned ironically.

Viserea bit her tongue to keep from telling Otto he needed to heed his own warnings.

“I have acted, Corlys.” Viserys said, dragging her attention back to him, “I’ve sent envoys to Pentos and Volatis to see if we might find common cause. Ships and men are at the ready. The Stepstones will be settled… in time.”

“You have dragonriders, father.” Rhaenyra’s voice caused Viserea’s head turned to where Rhaenyra stood a couple steps behind her, “Send us.”

“It isn’t that simple, Rhaenyra.” Viserys argued.

“It would be a show of force.” Rhaenyra rebutted, stepping up closer to the table so she was now directly between Maester Mellos and Lord Strong.

“At least the Princess has a plan.” Corlys said. Viserea turned to see Corlys with the smallest form of a smile on his face at the Princess’ idea.

“I only meant that we should at least-“ Rhaenyra was cut off by Otto.

“Perhaps, there’s some better use for the Princess’ talents, Your Grace.” Otto’s dismissing of Rhaenyra’s ideas and trying to push her off caused Viserea’s temper to soar quickly and she did not stop herself from speaking this time.

“Perhaps you should not speak over your future Queen.” Viserea snapped, her voice cold and anger clearly written on her face, “Her idea would be less likely to result in casualties. The Crabfeeder has shown he has no regards for angering The Crown. He might have regards for angering dragons.”

The room stilled at Viserea’s outburst save for Corlys’ chuckle beside her and hand gently placed in the middle of her back as a silent thanks. Viserea did not break eye contact with Otto, refusing to be intimidated by him.

“Why don’t you take both Princesses to see about the new Kingsgaurd posting, Lord Commander?” Viserys asked, his voice leaving no room for Viserea to protest being dismissed.

“A fine idea, Your Grace.” Ser Harrold replied.

“This knight will protect you as well, Princess Rhaenyra. You should choose.” Viserys said to Rhaenyra, “It will also be a great time for Princess Viserea to lend her advice and get a taste of attending to matters as your Hand.”

Viserea only looked away from Otto once Rhaenyra had walked away from the table. Viserea placed the wine down on its table and walked over to where Rhaenyra stood with Lord Harrold. As she passed, Corlys gave her a slight bow with a smirk on his face.

The two Princesses and Lord Harrold made their way in silence to the viewing area of the courtyard, though at one point where the halls were empty, Viserea felt Rhaenyra’s hand squeeze hers gently. Viserea looked to her and she understood it was her silent way of saying thank you. Viserea offered her a small but genuine smile.

Rhaenyra stepped to see over the courtyard where the knights had gathered and Viserea stood next to her on her right side. She didn’t need to think about where she stood. It came naturally to her.

“Ser Desmond Caron, a fine knight, Princess.” Ser Harrold said, placing a statue of a bird in the front center of the presentation board next to them, “Step forward, Ser Desmond.”

A knight in an orange-gold cover with the same bird as his statue stepped forward. Viserea stayed silent, though she was not impressed by the man that stepped forward. He looked… soft.

“Son of Ser Royce Caron, Ser Desmond has proved strong and steady in both the tourney lists and without. While traveling through the Kingswood on his way to King’s Landing, Ser Desmond recently brought a wouldbe poacher to justice.” Ser Harrold explained to them both as Otto joined them.

‘That was it?’ Viserea thought and forced a blank look on her face.

“You might thank him for his leal service, Princess.” Otto said, turning his body away from the knights so they don’t see him speak.

“We thank you for your loyal service to The Crown, Ser.” Rhaenyra said kindly.

Viserea glanced up and saw Princess Rhaenys looking down at them with an amused smile. Her words about the knights at the tourney having seen no real battle played in Viserea’s head repeatedly.

The knight stepped back to his previous place in the line of knights and as Ser Harrold introduced him, the next knight stepped forward.

“Ser Rymun Mallister. Son of Lord Lymond Mallister of Seagard. Winner of the melee at Cider Hall. He was the last mounted of three and twenty knights. Ser Rymun was knighted at eight and ten.” Ser Harrold spoke the numbers as if they should impress them, but one look at his face told Viserea that the only thing that impressed him was his age when knighted.

“None of these men have seen real war.” Viserea whispered Rhaenys’ words from beside Rhaenyra who looked at her with a quirked eyebrow.

“Do any of these knights have combat experience?” Rhaenyra asked Ser Harrold.

“Beyond capturing poachers.” Viserea added, looking over to the Kingsgaurd.

He gave a slight nod and moved an undecorated piece to the front center of the board beside her.

“Ser Cristin Cole.” Ser Harrold spoke and Viserea looked over the edge of the railing, watching as the Dornish knight from the tourney who had asked Rhaenyra’s favor stepped forward, “Son of the steward of the Lord of Blackhaven.”

“Be welcome, Ser Criston.” Rhaenyra’s greeting was met with a smile and a nod from the knight and she continued on, “You saw combat at the Stormlands.” She said.

“Dornish marches, Princess. I fought for a year as a foot soldier against the Dornish incursions.” Ser Criston explained.

‘Finally.’ Viserea thought to herself, happy to know that at least one of the knights in the crowd had some experience outside of tourneys and poachers.

“Ser Arlan Dondarrion knighted me after we razed two of the watchtowers along the Boneway.” Ser Criston informed them.

Rhaenyra looked to Viserea, silently asking for her input.

“He has earned the title of a knight in combat. He did not accept the title with hopes of never seeing real battle, he knew what the title brought with it.” Viserea said to her, making sure to keep her voice low enough to not potentially offend any of the knights below them.

Satisfied with Viserea’s approval, Rhaenyra looked to Ser Harrold.

“I choose Ser Criston Cole.” She said, stepping down from the box used so she could see over the railing.

“Let’s not be too hasty, Princess.” Otto said, approaching them again, “There’s no doubt Ser Criston is a fine warrior, but houses such as Crakehall and Mallister are important allies of The Crown. Seagard, for instance, is the realm’s prime defense against reads from the Iron Islands.”

Viserea glanced up and saw Rhaenys looking down at them again, the same knowing smirk on her face. The look seemed to give Viserea a new burst of confidence. She did not feel the need to impress many people, but if she were ever to impress a woman such as Rhaenys, Viserea knew the feeling would be one she would never let go of.

“Those men are tourney knights. My father should be defended by a man who has known real combat. Should he not?” Rhaenyra argued, her voice confident and sure.

“And if those houses are such great allies of The Crown, surely they will understand that the greatest concern when picking new members of the Kingsgaurd is the safety of the King. If we placed greater concern in keeping allies, then who knows how the quality of the Kingsgaurd might falter.” Viserea backed Rhaenyra, not giving Otto a way to disagree without blatantly stating that he cared less for the King’s safety.

“Of course, Princesses.” Otto said, though Viserea could tell he was not happy about letting the argument drop in the favor of the two women.

“Well, let us plan Ser Criston’s investiture then.” Rhaenyra commanded, holding eye contact with Otto until she turned to walk away with Viserea following her.

Once away from the listening ears of others, the two visibly relaxed.

“How do you plan to spend the rest of your day?” Rhaenyra asked Viserea.

“It has been an entire month since I have caused anyone in the keep a good amount of stress. I miss prowling the streets of King’s Landing.” Viserea answered, looking to Rhaenyra with a smirk on her face and causing Rhaenyra to chuckle.

“Whatever will I do with my day? I get you back and you immediately run away from me.” Rhaenyra said dramatically, feigning hurt.

Viserea let a cheeky smile take over her face and she leaned over to whisper into Rhaenyra’s ear, “I’ll make it up to you and give you my night.”

The answer caused Rhaenyra’s face to turn a deep red and gawk at her through a smile.

“Such statements could cause you to lose your tongue, Princess. It is a good thing I adore them.” Rhaenyra told her and both of them burst into a fit of giggles.

They both still wore smiles when Alicent approached them, the previous look that Viserea couldn’t name being taken over by a relieved smile.

“Good afternoon, Princesses.” She greeted, looking at Viserea, “It is nice to have you back in King’s Landing. I know many have missed your presence, myself included.”

Viserea almost felt bad for the distaste she held for Alicent. She had never been anything but kind towards them and she knew that Rhaenyra trusted her wholly, but that did not make it any easier for Viserea to shake the feelings she had towards her. She thought that maybe the feelings would wash away now that she knew Rhaenyra returned her romantic feelings, but the feeling had only grown stronger in the passing months.

“I thank you for your warm welcome and kind words, Lady Alicent, and for keeping Rhaenyra from putting her life at risk.” Viserea told Alicent and the playful slap Viserea received on her arm caused Alicent and Viserea to both laugh.

“It wasn’t an easy task, but I managed.” Alicent said through her laughter.

“Did you come here only so you could mock me?” Rhaenyra asked Alicent, the same level of dramatism and clear sarcasm in her voice as earlier.

“While it is great fun, that is not why I’m here. I came here to see if either of you wanted to join me at the Sept.” Alicent offered to both of them. Her gaze flickered to behind them and both of the Princesses turned to find Rhaenys behind them.

“My apologies for interrupting, Lady Hightower. I have no qualms with Princess Rhaenyra accepting your invitation if you wish, but I was hoping Princess Viserea might join me for a walk.” Rhaenys spoke with an air of confidence and just enough authority that no one argued.

“Of course, Princess.” Alicent said, looking to Rhaenyra who also agreed.

The two pairs turned in opposite directions, Viserea staying in step with Rhaenys next to her.

“My husband informs me you were given your first duty as Hand to the future Queen.” Rhaenys broke the silence first, looking to Viserea with a knowing smile on her face.

“Yes, I was given the task of assisting her in picking a new member of the Kingsgaurd.” Viserea said, knowing Rhaenys already knew this.

“You did not look too impressed with the options given.”

“Your words at the tourney came to mind more than once, Princess.”

“So you spoke them to Princess Rhaenyra?” Rhaenys questioned.

“I left out the part about their balls being full of seed, but I did mention to her that none of the knights knew real combat.” Viserea’s words caused a genuine smile to break across Rhaenys’ face.

“I understand your leaving that part out, especially with Lord Hightower watching over your every move. Your defense of Rhaenyra and refusal to cower to him seemed to upset him both times you fought against him.” Rhaenys said with a completely neutral voice.

“I see Lord Corlys informed you of the incident in the Council Meeting this afternoon.” Viserea said, slightly embarrassed that Rhaenys knew about it and the shame was reflected in her voice.

“I would not call it an incident. You defended your future Queen and the current Lord of the Tides.” Rhaenys’ words surprised Viserea. She was not expecting someone who aired such a collected front to defend the outburst.

“The rest of the council might disagree, but I thank you for your kind words, Princess.” Viserea’s thanks was genuine. Being complimented by Rhaenys was not something she took lightly and it did make her feel less embarrassed knowing that the princess stood beside her.

“The rest of the council needs to see what it is like for a dragon to burn.” Rhaenys said, “I speak for my husband when I say that House Velaryon will not forget what you did today. We understand that you cannot command the King’s fleets and we also understand that today you and Princess Rhaenyra did what was in your power to help us.”

Viserea found herself unable to respond for a moment. She had not known what to expect Rhaenys to speak about while they walked through the outside halls of the castle, but it was not her praising an outburst in the small council.

“Thank you, Princess, for both your support and understanding. I see the importance in ridding the Stepstones of these pirates and I shall continue to voice support for Lord Corlys’ ideas of how to handle the issue, but I cannot promise that much progress will be made. The Hand might be the only one who could convince the King differently, and I fear my outburst might have ruined any chances of him supporting the war anytime soon.” Viserea chose her words carefully, not wanting to come across as promising anything she could not deliver on.

“I fear the Hand may have met his match in you. You do not allow his power to intimidate you and his power is a card he has been relying on for some time now.” Rhaenys told Viserea, stopping back by the door in which they had started their walk and taking Viserea’s hand in one of her own, “If you ever need anything, please, let us know. We will do what we can to support you… and support Rhaenyra’s claim to the throne.” Rhaenys dropped Viserea’s hand and gave her one last smile before departing the way she had come.

Viserea watched as Rhaenys walked away, in a state of slight shock over their conversation. Approval and support from Corlys and Rhaenys was something that no one, no matter their title, should take advantage of. Once the shock wore off, a newfound sense of confidence took its place in Viserea.

Viserea, Rhaenyra, and Viserys sat at the dinner table that night. The dinners together as a family had resumed the night after the lords swore their oaths to Rhaenyra as heir, though even months later, they still had not gone back to the same lively ones that had taken place when Aemma was there. Viserea supposed they never would.

“We have not spoken much… since….” Rhaenyra’s voice broke the usual silence and Viserea’s eyes shot up to see her looking at Viserys.

“A regret of mine. We should be free to speak our minds to one another” Viserys replied, looking to Rhaenyra. As if just remembering she was there, he also looked over at Viserea.

‘You do not wish me to speak my mind, that I can assure you.’ Viserea thought to herself, using the excuse of the food in her mouth to avoid answering him.

“You can say whatever you’d like. You are the King.” Rhaenyra said simply which resulted in a chuckle from Viserys that neither girl returned.

“I loved your mother… very much.” Viserys’ voice broke in the middle of his sentence, proving how much he meant the statement.

All it did for Viserea though was send the same frightening images of Aemma’s death flashing through her mind and cause her to have to push aside the anger and nausea she felt.

“As did we.” Rhaenyra replied with a bittersweet smile on her face, making sure to include Viserea’s love of Aemma into the conversation.

When the conversation started to lull again, Viserea spoke up. She knew that everyone at the table needed each other, even if none of them wanted to show it or if one of them held anger towards another.

“Ser Harrold provided a fine field of tourney knights.” She said, looking to Rhaenyra and nodding to encourage her to continue the conversation.

“Oh?” Viserys asked as he looked to Viserea, clearly surprised at the attempt of conversation, but jumping at the opportunity nonetheless.

“But in questioning them, we discovered that Ser Criston was the only man among them with true battle experience.” Rhaenyra continued and made Viserys chuckle again.

“He’ll make a fine knight of the Kingsguard.” Viserys voiced his approval, though Viserea suspected Rhaenyra could have chosen an oiled pig and would not have argued with Rhaenyra at this moment.

“Today at Small Council-“ Rhaenyra started, cut off by Viserys,

“Pay it no mind.”

“I thought I might have had some insight, but-“

“You’re young.”

‘People really need to stop interrupting her.’ Viserea thought to herself as a flash of annoyance made its way through her.

“You both will learn.” Viserys continued, causing both Rhaenyra and Viserea to remain silent for the rest of dinner.

Viserea wasn’t apologizing for what she had suggested, but she did not bring that small fact up. Silence was better than an argument.

The next morning, Viserea made her way out of the keep. She had missed the city streets, no matter how much her safety was at risk. Through years of trial and error, she had memorized the best route of escape and perfected when and where to step to avoid being caught.

As soon as she was outside of the castle walls, she saw the two men that always accompanied her. Viserea passed them each a pouch of coins which they caught and placed in the satchels they carried.

“Good morning, Lady Hornwood.” The smaller one greeted, causing a smile to break on to Viserea’s face. For the next couple hours, she was not a Princess, but simply a lady from a minor house.

“Good morning, Cheese and good morning, Blood.” She greeted, stepping in between the men and beginning to walk with them to the main streets of the city.

The two men were intimidating, even Cheese, though he weighed about as much as Viserea and was only a short bit taller than her. It was what Viserea needed in order to crawl through the streets without being spotted.

Her hair was tucked into a cap, and by the time she put on the commoners clothing, she was unrecognizable as the Princess. It was a habit at this point to keep her head down. There were certain establishments that knew of Viserea’s activities and only once they were inside one of them did she ever lift her head.

Viserea spent the morning visiting each of the establishments. She and the owners had systems in place to help where Viserea could. She would hand them each small pouches of coins. One of the pouches was to go to the owner, and then depending on the owner, the rest would go to orphanages, widows of fallen men who had children to feed, various street vendors that promised to keep their prices on food low as long as “donations” were made; each pouch was to be delivered with the words ‘on behalf of the Winter Dragon’. She could not solve all of the city’s problems, but Viserea tried to help where she could, and the owners made sure to tell Viserea how grateful they were to her.

“Why do you do it, Lady Hornwood?” Blood asked as they made their way back to the Red Keep.

“Do what?” She asked him, keeping her eyes on the ground to ensure she did not trip over anything. Scraped hands and knees would reveal exactly what she had been doing that morning.

“Any of it. Sneak out, come to visit the smallfolk, give them money…. Or trust us.”

The way he had said “trust us” sent a shiver down Viserea’s spine. She had told Daemon she did not wish to know what he knew of Blood and Cheese that made them so willing to work for him, or for her. She could only imagine what the two were capable of, especially when placed together. She looked to where Blood stood beside her and over to where Cheese stood beside him.

“I sneak out, visit, and give them money because I do not hold the power to do anything else, but I do not wish to see them suffer knowing I have some means to help.” Viserea answered, her eyes returning to the ground as she continued to walk.

Her answer wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the entire truth. It was true that she did not wish to see people suffering when she had the means to help, but she also knew from the histories how quickly the smallfolk were to riot against the crown if they felt they had reason to. The support of the smallfolk was a powerful weapon when wielded correctly.

“What about trusting us?” Cheese asked, as both him and Blood stepped in front of Viserea to stop her from walking.

“I don’t trust you. I trust my gold.” Viserea said honestly, looking at both of them.

Quicker than she could blink, Blood drew his sword and held it under Viserea’s chin. Her heartbeat quickened but her face remained calm, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing her afraid.

“Why come with us if you only trust the gold?” Blood asked, “What would happen if we took the gold and did what we wanted with you? Fucking a princess would be fun and we would have enough gold between the two of us to leave the city and go wherever we want.”

Viserea’s heart thudded loudly in her ears at the threat and she swallowed nervously. She wouldn’t beg for them to leave her alone. She had never begged for anything before and she wasn’t going to have her first time begging be to two criminals who wanted her to and would only find it rewarding. All she could think of was how grateful she was that she hadn’t chosen today to bring Rhaenyra with her,

“Then do it. Fuck me and then kill me. Take your gold to some unfortunate ship captain and then flee King’s Landing,” she held eye contact with Blood as she spoke, wanting to make sure he knew her words weren’t a bluff, “but remember who I am and who my family is. That ship could never outsail a dragon, and once he learned the details of my death, my uncle would track you down. He would go to the ends to find you two and give you the same punishment his gold cloaks give the other rapers. You two would know life without a cock for a day, then you would be bathed in Caraxes’ fire.”

The few seconds of silence that followed seemed to span for hours. The two men exchanged looks with each other and Blood lowered his sword from Viserea’s chin.

“It seems you trust your uncle more than the gold.” Cheese said as both him and Blood walked off to leave Viserea to finish the last small portion of the walk on her own.

Viserea’s anxiety and Cheese’s final words to her did not leave her once she returned to the castle. Her hands shook the entire time she redressed herself and any small movement caused her to jump. She quickly made her way back to her chambers, hoping to be able to send for Rhaenyra to join her or to be left undisturbed for the next couple hours.

Her hand was on the door of her chambers when Ser Ryden called for her, though whatever he was going to say fell from his lips as he saw her face and what Viserea could only imagine was a fair amount of terror painted across it.

“Princess, are you okay?” He asked, his eyes going over her appearance to look for any obvious wounds.

As soon as he asked, Viserea’s last bit of restraint broke. She couldn’t stop the tears as they fell and she threw herself into his arms just as she had done the night of her dream of Aemma. She could feel herself being guided into the privacy of her chambers, but she kept her head buried in the cool metal of his armor.

“Do I need to send for the maesters?” Ser Ryden asked and Viserea shook her head, not able to speak through the mess of tears she had become. “Do you wish for me to send for Princess Rhaenyra?” He asked, a hesitancy in his voice at the suggestion, as if he was silently asking her something entirely different.

Viserea’s next sob was caught in her throat as she pulled away from him and looked up to study his face. The hesitancy he had never before had when asking if she wanted to see Rhaenyra had spoken volumes. She studied his face for a moment as if she was trying to read his mind. After finding no harshness or judgment and only concern, she nodded.

“Please.” She said and Ser Ryden moved immediately. He was out of her chambers in a single breath and Viserea knew he wouldn’t return without Rhaenyra by his side.

She walked over to the small sofa along one of the walls of her chambers and pulled the red and silver silk blanket she’d had since a babe around herself.

‘It seems you trust your uncle more than gold’. It shouldn’t have come as a shock to her that she did, but after Daemon’s celebrations over Baelon’s death, she thought she no longer trusted him. It had seemed like a stroke across the face with a whip to hear what he had done after she had told him of her dream, and then to not even show up for her and Rhaenyra as the lords swore their oaths. Yet, it was still Daemon she trusted. She trusted him every time she paid Blood and Cheese to keep her safe, and she trusted him to avenge her if they had harmed her that day. The obvious threat would have been that she was a Princess and future Hand of the Queen and that King Viserys would send for their heads, but it was not Viserys that had crossed her mind in those moments. All she had felt was gratefulness for Rhaenyra’s safety and trust in Daemon to avenge her.

At the sound of her door opening, Viserea looked up and found Rhaenyra making her way towards her. Immediately, she pulled Rhaenyra into her arms and held her close. It was as if she was reassuring herself that Rhaenyra truly had not been harmed today, that she had not come to the city with her, and that she was still okay.

“Ñuha prūmia (my heart), what happened?” Rhaenyra asked after giving Viserea a moment to simply sob and hold her close.

Viserea told Rhaenyra everything; every explicit detail of when, how, and with whom she visited the cities, how the trips had started, and what had happened in her most recent one.

“I was terrified, but your safety and Daemon’s revenge are the two things that brought me comfort in what I thought could have been my final, terrifying moments.” Viserea finished, and added on a moment later, “I love you both.”

Rhaenyra’s silence at the final sentiment brought a strike of fear through Viserea that made the fear she felt with Blood and Cheese feel like nothing. A giggle left Rhaenyra’s lips and Viserea’s eye glued to her face,

“You’re laughing?” Viserea questioned.

“I’m relieved.” Rhaenyra said, sitting down on the sofa in front of Viserea, “I’m relieved for your safety, first and foremost. I want to send for Blood and Cheese’s heads but I know how that would play out… and I’m relieved that I no longer need to feel guilt about my emotions towards our uncle. I haven’t been able to bring myself to hate him as I know I should, and I am relieved that we both feel the complicated tangle of emotions towards him.”

Viserea sat next to Rhaenyra, laying her head on her shoulder and taking Rhaenyra’s hands in hers,

“I always said I wanted a marriage to rival Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys’.” Viserea said, sighing when she felt Rhaenyra’s fingers lace with her own.

“Did you always picture it as the three of us?”

“Always.” Viserea lifted her head as she answered and faced Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra leaned in and kissed Viserea, who eagerly returned the kiss. Neither of them seemed willing to be the one to break away first and Rhaenyra had changed position to now straddle Viserea’s lap, their dresses causing them both to giggle into the kiss as they moved the fabric in a way to allow the position. Viserea’s hair was still down from where she had returned from the city and Rhaenyra’s hands were locked in them . Viserea rested one hand on Rhaenyra’s hip and the other was wrapped around the back of her neck, both of them positioned to keep Rhaenyra as close as possible to her.

The kiss only broke when they heard the knock on Viserea’s door. The two pulled away and separated quickly while Viserea ran her fingers through her hair to try and tame the mess she knew it was.

“Princesses?” Viserea calmed drastically when she heard Amarda’s voice calling for them, “It is urgent.”

“Enter.” Viserea called, standing up and walking to her vanity.

“The Hand has called an emergency meeting.” Amarda said once she had entered Viserea’s chambers. Amarda immediately came to Viserea and tamed her tangled hair, placing a simple braid in it so that she would be presentable for the meeting. “You must go now.”

Rhaenyra and Viserea said nothing on the way to the meeting, though they could both feel the electricity in the air between them. Their flushed faces could be blamed on their speedy arrival to the council meeting, but they would have to make sure not to draw attention to themselves for their swollen lips were not disappearing quickly enough.

By the time they entered the council room, a dragonkeeper was already speaking in High Valyrian.

“It occurred in the blackness of the night, my lords, during the Hour of the Bat. The thief eluded our pursuit.” The dragonkeeper said, causing both Rhaenyra and Viserea to exchange glances.

Both stayed silent as they stood next to each other and Viserys continued questioning the keeper.

“How is it possible that a dragon���s egg was stolen out from beneath more than fifty Dragonkeepers?”

“It was Prince Daemon who was the culprit, Your Grace.”

“Daemon?” Viserys questioned.

Once again, it took great control for Viserea to not reach for Rhaenyra’s hand to remain silent.

“The Prince left a missive, which I believe might explain.” Otto said.

Rhaenyra and Viserea exchanged another glance and took a step forward as the letter was read.

“It is the pleasure of Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone and rightful heir to the Iron Throne, to announce that he is to take a second wife in the tradition of Old Valyria. She is to assume the title Lady Mysaria of Dragonstone. Her Grace is with child and is to have a dragon’s egg placed in the babe’s cradle in the custom of House Targaryen. The Prince has invited you to his wedding, Your Grace.” The maester read the letter aloud and each word sent a deeper knife into Viserea’s heart.

She moved half a step closer to Rhaenyra, as if reminding her that she still stood beside her and her claim, and to remind her ‘I’m still here’. Of course, the moment they both admit that they hold deeper feelings for him, their uncle must go and hurt them further by taking a second wife and denying Rhaenyra’s claim.

“Who is Lady Mysaria?” Corlys questioned.

“Daemon’s whore.” Otto answered, cutting off whatever answer the maester was going to give in place. “This is nothing less than sedition.”

“I strongly agree, sire.” Lord Strong said, facing Viserys.

“My brother wishes to provoke me. To answer is to give him what he wants.” Viserys said.

“The Realm is watching, Your Grace.” Corlys replied.

“What would you have me do? Send him to the wall? Perhaps I could put his head on a spike.”

‘Defend your daughter’s claim! Punish him for this without allowing him to remain on Dragonstone claiming he is something he is not!’ Viserea wanted to scream, but in a great show of restraint, she remained quiet.

“Daemon has seized Dragonstone, surrounded himself with an army of gold cloaks, and has now stolen a dangerous weapon-“ Otto started, only for Rhaenyra’s quiet voice to break in speaking something Valyrian that Viserea did not catch.

All heads turned to Rhaenyra as she spoke again, this time louder,

“Which egg did Daemon take?” Rhaenyra demanded, looking at the Dragonkeeper.

The hesitancy to answer was clear enough for everyone to know the answer, but he eventually spoke the words and confirmed it,

“The egg was Dreamfyre’s, Princess. The same that you chose for Prince Baelon’s cradle.”

Viserea did not stop herself this time. She reached for Rhaenyra’s hand and gripped it tightly behind their backs. They both held back tears at the news, both of their pain coming from the same source but for different reasons.

“Assemble a detachment, Otto. I will go to Dragonstone and drag Daemon back to face justice myself.” Viserys said, standing from his chair and beginning to walk towards the door.

“Your Grace.” Otto called, causing Viserys to stop in his tracks and turn to him, “My apologies, Your Grace, but I cannot allow it. It’s too dangerous. Daemon is without limit. Let me go to Dragonstone.”

Viserea trusted neither Viserys or Otto to handle Daemon at that moment. Both of them seemed to be more insulted by Baelon’s egg being stolen and neither focused on the disrespect and treason of calling himself the rightful heir and denying Rhaenyra’s claim. Alas, Viserys nodded, giving Otto permission to leave for Dragonstone and calling the meeting to an end.

Neither Princess spoke much to each other that night, but they both stayed curled up to each other in bed. They didn’t need to speak to know that they would both be flying to Dragonstone the next morning, with or without the King’s blessing. The only dragons large enough to stand a chance against them were Balerion, who was long dead years ago, Vhagar, who was nowhere to be seen, and Meleys. Caraxes and Tessarion were now the same size, and even without seeing war, Tessarion and Syrax combined would be enough to fight through Caraxes, not that he would be there anyways.

The next morning, they both changed into their riding gear and were in the pits, not paying attention to a single protest from the keepers as they took their dragons to the skies. The hours spent flying to Dragonstone were silent, also. The night before they had briefly spoken of a plan. Both agreed that this was Rhaenyra’s place to assert her power and show that she was not some scared Princess who would roll over at the first challenge of her claim or sign of disrespect.

By the time the castle of Dragonstone came into view, they could see that the two sides were in a standoff. Swords were drawn on both sides and Caraxes stood perched on the bridge, his familiar roar cascading over the land. The roars of Syrax and Tessarion drew attention away from Daemon.

Rhaenyra landed on the bridge behind her father’s men and dismounted while Viserea landed Tessarion in front of the King’s men, causing them to all back up and be pinned between the two dragons. Viserea could hear Rhaenyra speak to Otto, but she kept her eyes locked on Daemon as Daemon did her.

Rhaenyra appeared from underneath Tessarion, walking straight to Daemon and speaking,

“My father named me Princess of Dragonstone. That is my castle you’re living in, uncle.” Rhaenyra said, immediately speaking in High Valyrian. It was a conversation she wished to keep private.

“Not until you come of age.” Daemon replied.

Viserea knew she would have angered quickly at any response he had given, and this one did exactly that. Technicalities that he knew were a low blow.

“You have angered your king.”

“I don’t see why. This is a day of celebration. I am to be wed.”

“You already have a wife.”

“Not one of my choosing.” Daemon said, giving Viserea a pointed glance as he spoke the sentence, “Why force myself upon a wife that does not want me?”

Hurt and anger rose through Viserea as he used her defense of him against Otto only to throw it back in her face. As if sensing everything Viserea felt, Tessarion gave a low warning groan to Daemon, her teeth showing.

“And this required you to steal my brother’s egg?” Rhaenyra asked him, not letting Tessarion’s warning distract her from Daemon.

“You shared your cradle with a dragon when you were born, both of you. I want the same for my child.” Daemon took a couple steps closer to Rhaenyra as he spoke, making the space between them nonexistent and causing Tessarion to give another warning growl.

The growl caused Caraxes to return one of his own, then Syrax to respond to Caraxes. All three of the dragons shifted and Viserea could hear the gold cloaks and king’s men shifting uncomfortably at the thought of what would happen if the three dragons opened their mouths.

“You’re to have a child?” Rhaenyra questioned once the dragons had quieted.

“One day.” Daemon replied, causing Mysaria to walk off through the army of gold cloaks behind them.

Viserea’s smirk at the events faltered when Rhaenyra spoke,

“I’m right here, Uncle… the object of your ire, the reason that you were disinherited. If you wish to be restored as heir, you’ll need to kill me. So, do it. And be done with all this bother.”

Viserea’s eyes shot from Daemon to Rhaenyra, then began quickly darting between the two. She gripped the reins of Tessarion tightly, the word on the tip of her tongue if Daemon so much as glanced towards Dark Sister on his hip. Offering herself up to Daemon had not been discussed and Viserea’s hands shook at the thought of losing both of them in mere seconds, but she would not hesitate to kill anyone who dared harmed her Rhaenyra.

Daemon glanced between Rhaenyra, Viserea, and Tessarion before beginning to walk away, only looking back to toss the egg to Rhaenyra, who caught it with a grunt.

“You might want to speak to Blood and Cheese about threatening paying customers.” Viserea called out, watching as Daemon stopped in his tracks and looked back at her, curiosity and anger in his eyes, but saying nothing more as he walked away

Once Rhaenyra had stepped from under Tessarion, Viserea gave the command to fly again with Syrax joining her side soon after. Both of the Princesses now wore victorious looks. It wasn’t a huge win, but it showed that neither the future Queen nor her Hand would allow treasonous actions from even their own family. There would be hell to pay from Viserys, but that wasn’t the important matter at the moment.

Their flight back to King’s Landing took longer than normal, both of them dawdling and allowing their dragons to take the lead and follow the winds as they pleased. This time, they did speak as they rode back, but of nothing important. Which clouds looked the softest, how fast dragonfire could dry out a sea, and how far they thought their dragons could fly without rest.

It was nightfall when they landed in the pits again and returned to the keep. They were immediately escorted to the King’s Chambers, given no chance to wash the smell of dragon off of them. Neither of them allowed their anxieties to show on their face as they entered Viserys’ chambers and they both greeted him with a slight bow of the head and,

“Your Grace.”

“You both disobeyed me. You fled King’s Landing without a word and you acted without The Crown’s leave,” Viserys’ glances between the two turned strictly towards Rhaenyra as he poked her in the chest. “You are my only heir. You could’ve been killed.”

“She would not have been.” Viserea said quickly, an ice in her eyes as she stared harshly at Viserys, “We went to ensure that Daemon understood that Rhaenyra is your heir, since he openly claimed he was.”

Viserys’ response was cut off by Rhaenyra,

“May I sit?”

Viserys and Viserea looked slightly taken aback by her question and watched as she sat down in an open chair. Viserea followed behind her, standing up behind her as Rhaenyra sat. Viserys followed and sat opposite her.

“You went to Dragonstone.” He angrily repeated.

“And we retrieved the egg without bloodshed.” Rhaenyra replied calmly, “A feat I’m not sure Ser Otto could’ve accomplished alone.”

“Yes, well…” Viserys sighed in defeat and then chuckled, “I sometimes forget how alike you two are to your parents,” Another sigh escaped his lips, “Your mother’s absence is a wound that will never heal. Without her, the Red Keep has lost a warmth that I dare say it will never recover. And you,” Viserys looked to Viserea, “Your father was always the first to defend us, despite me being the elder. A trait I see in the way you jump to defend Rhaenyra at the first sight of disrespect.”

“I’ll be happy in my life if that is the trait I share with him.” Viserea said truthfully, her anger dissipating quickly at the compliment. She wanted nothing more than to be remembered to share traits with her father.

“It pleases me to hear you say this. To know that I’m not alone in my grief.” Rhaenyra said genuinely.

“I wish I had known better what to say to you in the aftermath. To say to you both. I struggled to realize that my daughter, and the one who I view as mine own, had so quickly become women grown. But I know they understand what is now expected of me.” Viserys’ voice grew shaky at the end, as if he was willing them both to be understanding.

“The King must take a new wife.” Rhaenyra replied, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“I could never replace your mother,” Viserys reassured, his focus now solely on Rhaenyra, “No more than I intend to replace you as heir. But you are my only heir, and our line is vulnerable, too easily ended.”

As much as Viserys said he claimed and viewed Viserea as his own, it was obvious in moments like these that he subconsciously did not. The way he had said she was his “only” heir, as if Viserea was not an option, and the way he now put his focus solely on Rhaenyra, despite Aemma having been the only mother figure Viserea had ever known made the truth completely obvious to Viserea.

“By marrying again, I may begin to ensure that we are better defended.”

“Against whom?” Rhaenyra questioned and the slight break in her voice made Viserea rest a comforting hand on her shoulder, a silent promise to protect her.

“Whomever may dare to challenge us.” Viserys answered, “I do not wish to make us estranged.”

“You are the King, and so your first duty is to the realm. Mother would’ve understood this. Just as I do.” Rhaenyra reassured him.

“Then it will be announced tomorrow.” Viserys said, dismissing the two of them a moment later.

Viserea was not the first to break the silence between them, knowing Rhaenyra would open up to her in her own time. She simply snuck her way back into Rhaenyra’s room that night and comforted her as she cried and explained how she knew that Viserys must remarry, but that it did not make the grief she felt over her mother’s passing or the anxiety of being named heir any easier.

“Rhaenys is an ally to us.” Viserea said, wanting to tell her of their conversation finally.

“Are you sure? She has warned me that I will not be made Queen the moment my father has a male heir.” Rhaenyra replied.

“It is a smart warning. The realm might not be willing to quietly accept you, but Corlys told her of my outburst in the Small Council and how I wanted The Crown to support him in a war against the stepstones. She said that my support would not be taken lightly and that they would be willing to help defend our claims in every way they could.”

The revelation seemed to calm Rhaenyra enough to where she was able to drift off into sleep and Viserea followed soon after.

Ser Ryden woke them earlier than usual and, as if trying to prove he truly did accept the relationship between the Princesses, helped Viserea sneak back into her room before the handmaidens showed up to help the two get ready for the meeting that day.

Rhaenyra and Viserea met again outside the doors of the council room, both of them now bathed and in new dresses. Rhaenyra was still obviously upset, but trying to remain optimistic, though Viserea saw right through it.

A look of confusion crossed both girls' faces as they noticed Alicent in the room and the two exchanged glances. They filled the goblets with wine as they walked around the room and noticed that Alicent refused to make eye contact with either of them. When Viserys called the meeting to start, Rhaenyra stood on one side of the table, behind Lord Strong and opposite Otto and Alicent, and Viserea stood beside Corlys at the end of the table.

“I have decided to take a new wife.” Viserys said, glancing between Corlys, then to Viserea, and finally landing on Rhaenyra, who gave him a reassuring nod.

Viserea caught on before he announced who his new wife would be though, something she didn’t think Rhaenyra had caught on to. Viserea allowed a glare to cross her face and she looked back and forth between Alicent and Viserys.

“I intend to marry… the Lady Alicent Hightower before spring’s end.” Viserys announced and Viserea tore her glare away from the two to look over at Rhaenyra who’s pain was as visible on her face as Viserea’s anger.

“This is an absurdity.” Corlys said, standing beside Viserea, “My house is Valyrian, the greatest power in the realm.”

“And I am your King.” Viserys replied, the unspoken warning obvious in his voice.

Corlys glanced between Otto and Viserys once more before storming out.

“Rhaenyra…” Viserys called, though Rhaenyra never looked towards him. She tore her hurt gaze away from Alicent and left the room, following Corlys trail.

Perhaps it spoke more of Viserea’s anger that she spoke none of the insults she wished to hurl at everyone in the room and simply slammed the pitcher of wine onto the table and left with a simple, “My King, my Queen.”

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

'Tis The Damn Season

Javy 'Coyote' Machado x Reader

Description: You've made your closest friends over the past decade as a Naval Aviator. That close friend group only expanded when your best friend fell in love when you were in flight school. Nat and Jake are cute together, you can't deny that. It helps that you get along well with Jake. Sadly, where Jake Seresin goes, so does Javy Machado. You can fly with the man, be the perfect wingman, but when both your feet are on the ground, you can't stand him. You're so sure the feeling is mutual. 48 hours in a car with him teaches you differently. Javy Machado is sweet and funny and you might just be falling in love with him. Or have you been in love with him all along?

Themes: Stuck in the snow, showers, shower-thoughts, hate-to-love, stranded in the snow,

Warnings: Female!Reader This fic is for adults age 18 and older, only! There are some fairly spicy thoughts in this part and 100% spicy happenings in the next part! Please do not read if sexual intimacy is disturbing to you!

Word Count: 3938

Author Note: This is part one of two of Gypsy and Javy's story and was written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge! I had an absolute blast writing this fic for Trope #17, Stuck Together/Snowed in/Stranded. I hope you all love reading this fic as much as I loved writing it! All my thanks go to @desert-fern who was instrumental as I bounced ideas back and forth for this fic, as well as for beta-reading it for me!

Cross Posted on AO3 Here!

My Masterlist

It was supposed to be the start of a fabulous holiday - supposed to be, being the key words. It’s rare, honestly nigh on impossible for you to end up having vacation leave lined up at the same time as your friends. You’re in the Navy, you’re a pilot; it kind of comes with the territory. But what is the likelihood you’d find yourself stuck in a car in the middle of a Colorado snowstorm with none other than Javy Machado? You’re unsure who you should blame because the universe clearly has it out for you.

Well, it's either the universe or Natasha Fucking Trace. Honestly, between mystic powers controlling everything that has been or will be and Nat, you’d pick her any day. A part of you has some sympathy for her. It can’t be easy dating a guy and knowing your best friend and his can’t stand each other. It’s the truth, too. You can’t remember why or when you started to get angry at the sight of his smiling face. Still, it was probably sometime between when he asked you if you needed a booster seat to see out of the cockpit and when he blitzed you on the first of the many flights you’ve taken with him. 

Why the fuck isn’t he going home to Louisiana? That’s what he usually does. God, if there’s anyone who’d know, it would be you. After all, you’ve been flying with Coyote Machado for the better part of the past decade. Every year, he’d cash in all his leave and fly home. Like clockwork, he’d return after the new year more infuriating than ever. But your knowledge of his behavior doesn’t explain why he’s in Colorado. You were both on an aircraft carrier in the Philippines, for fuck’s sake. There had to have been a transport to Louisiana via the East Coast. But against all odds, the two of you had been on the same transport and flight, hell, even the same bus to the terminal once you landed in Denver.

Now he’s staring at the same board you are, with flickering red signs as flight after flight gets marked as canceled. Including the one you were supposed to be on. It’s just your luck that Tash and Jake are reporting to Norfolk Naval Base right now. It’s just your luck that the only transport you’d been able to get on had landed in San Diego. And it’s just your luck that the cheapest flight you could get had been via Denver in the midst of what has to be the worst snowstorm the region has ever seen. Reception is spotty, but you huddle in a corner, praying to all the gods you don’t believe in that your call connects.

“Tash?” Her voice is grainy and barely audible, but god, if it doesn’t make you want to cry. “I’m in Denver, yeah. There’s a colossal snowstorm blowing in. My flight’s been canceled.”

“I don’t think I’m going to make it in time.”

“I know.”

“I know. I’ve missed you so much. But I don’t see a way for me to get out of here and get there in time?” 

“Yeah, Javy’s here.” You can’t control your eye roll as you say his name. “Yeah, I’ll give him the phone.”

“Yo, Machado. Tash wants to talk to you.” He takes the phone from you like he doesn’t want to touch you, which shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

It’s loud and crowded at the airport, so you can’t hear a word of what he says to Nat. There’s nothing else to do but stand at the window and watch the snow fall and fall and fall. There’s already close to a foot accumulated on the ground, and while you’d been wishing for the snow in the heat and humidity of the ship, you hate it now.

“Here, Gypsy.” You accept the device with a half-smile. “Tash had a pretty good idea, y’know?”

You can’t help raising your eyebrow. Javy swallows, more than a little discomfited at your gimlet gaze. “She suggested we rent a car and drive out to Norfolk together.”

Eighteen hundred miles, and he wants to spend all of that time and distance stuck in a car with you? You scoff, “You couldn’t pay me to do that, Machado.”

“Yeah, I know.” There’s something sad and haunted in his eyes. “I know. Believe me, I do. But this isn’t about you and me. This is about Jake and Nat. They want us there, celebrating Christmas with them. So don’t think about doing this with me. Think about how you’re doing this for them.”

Damn him. Damn him for being right. “How are we going to get a car in this?” People are yelling at the poor airline staff behind the counter, kids are screaming, and Christmas Carols are pouring out of the speakers. It’s chaos - loud, unmitigated chaos.

“You leave that to me. You have your bags?” Before you can think or even respond, he’s cutting a swathe through the crowd, and you’re left standing near two Navy standard-issue duffel bags and your one small rolling suitcase. It takes half an hour before he comes back. In that half an hour, you find you’re glad you’d opted for carry-on bags because the mob at the counter waiting to collect check-in bags descends into an outright fistfight.

Javy’s rumpled, his sweater mussed when he lopes back to you, thankfully with car keys in hand. “I got ’em. We have to head down to the main concourse.”

“Anything to get out of this shitshow.” He chuckles and grabs your bags and his own despite your protests.

The car is old but functioning. It’s tiny, though. It's so small that you’re not sure he’ll fit behind the wheel. It can’t be comfortable when he does end up in the car. It looks like his knees are pressed against his chest, even with the seat pushed back as far as it can go. You’re in the passenger seat because he refused to let you drive, and as expected, you’re surrounded by snow the minute the car leaves the parking garage. Visibility is shit, and it feels like the car is moving at a glacial pace. You’re surprised the roads are open at all, and to add insult to injury, you’re sitting in silence. The radio isn’t working, there is more snow - this time of the feedback variety, ironically - and the car is old, so there is no auxiliary cable or USB cable to connect your phone to. And, well, you’re not a fan of the man you’re stuck in the car with for the next 24 to 36 hours, so the less conversation you have, the better. It’s not even like you can read. You’ve only been on the road for an hour at most when the sun sets. But the roads are still open, and traffic is still moving.

As the minutes turn into an hour on the dark, snow-covered roads, you feel your exhaustion setting in. You’ve never slept well on planes - go figure that ninety percent of the time you’re in a cockpit, you’re flying - but flying commercial somehow makes it work. Strap yourself into a jump seat on a cargo plane, and you’re out like a light. Sleeping on a carrier with planes taking off round the clock and midshipmen screaming outside the door, you’re snoring like a baby. But flying economy? Forget about it. So, besides the few hours of fitful sleep you’d gotten on the cargo plane - because you can’t sleep where Javy Machado can make fun of you - you’ve been awake for nearly 48 hours. Your eyes feel itchy and hot, each blink torturous as you fight exhaustion. The car is so warm, and Javy's silent. Even he can't object if you rest your eyes a little, right?

You wake up to a roar of the word, ‘SHIT’, echoing through the car. You startle, and if you were a cat, you’d be stuck to the upper upholstery, fur ruffled and back arched. A coat covers your lap, the soft, rich wool imbued with spicy cologne. It has to be Javy's coat. When did that get there? The visibility out of the windshield is even worse, if possible, and Coyote’s arms are corded as they clutch the wheel in an iron grip.

“Hey, how long was I out?” He doesn’t even look at you when usually he’d be more than ready to tease you on how you probably have drool on your face.

“Coyote? ‘Yote? Hey?!”

“Javy? What’s going on?” You place your hand on his arm, pretending not to notice how firm and warm it is under the bunched-up sleeves of the soft sweater he’s wearing. “Javy, you’re scaring me. C’mon. Tell me what’s happening. What’s a wingwoman for if she can’t help?”

“We’re somewhere in Kansas, and the snow makes this really hard.” There’s something unreadable in the expression on his face as he snarls at the other, far slower drivers on the road in front of you.

“We should stop for the night then.” 

“No.” He snarls the words at you, and that’s when you know something is wrong. “No, I can keep going.”

“Javy, maybe you can, but I can’t. I need to take a break, hit the head, and stretch my legs.” 

He doesn’t respond, content to make you worry the longer the silence spirals between you like an oppressive living thing. He pulls off the highway when the next exit presents itself. The motel he pulls up to on the side of the road is rough-looking. It’s small and old, but at least it smells clean, or well, at least clean-ish. As luck would have it - because your luck couldn't be any shittier - there’s only one room left for the night. You slap your credit card down on the counter before he can object. He’s Javy Machado. You know what he’s like better than almost anyone else. You may not like him very much, but you can read all of the signs. He’s not the type to let a woman pay for anything, not when he can pay for her. He can take it up with you when he’s not acting weird.

You push him into the shower once you’re in the room, content to just sprawl out on the bed until he’s done. Really, all you're hoping is that the hot water is enough to snap him out of this eerily quiet, angry mood and back to the pain in your ass you're used to. When he steps out, it’s wrapped in one of the motel’s paper-thin towels, and you have to avert your eyes. There’s just a shadow of a smirk on his face as you pass under his arm with all of your clothes bundled up against your chest, trying and failing to avoid making eye contact with all of his wet, glistening muscles. It takes you far too long for your brain to reboot after that sight, and mortification and anger are your companions as you hurriedly strip off your snow-laden clothes.

You’re grumbling the entire time it takes the shower to heat up because it is not fair that Javy Machado looks like that under his uniform. No wonder every girl within a ten-mile radius of base wants to get into his pants. You step into the shower nearly too early, stifling squeals as the too-cold water splatters across your skin. After a few minutes of determined shivering, you finally step under the warming water, coming out in a steady, roaring stream. At least it’s getting hot now, though it’s not as hot as you’d like. You let the spray beat your muscles into submission, relishing the first moment you’ve had by yourself since you left the carrier fleet hours ago. But you’re left in peace only for a few moments. Unbidden, your one-track mind finds its thoughts consumed by Javy Machado again. It starts off with an innocuous thought, “How did a man that large fit into this tiny shower? He could probably see over the curtain rod!” Then you’re wondering if he’s alright. But as your soapy hands trace over your skin, you start to imagine other things. 

You start to imagine water droplets sliding over the ridges of his muscles, skating over defined abs, and collecting in the dip of his collar bones. His hands are big and calloused as they lather soap across his skin and then over yours. Shit! When did you start dreaming of yourself in the shower with Javy Machado? There’s an ache in your pelvis as you clench your thighs together as you dream of how those calloused fingers feel on your skin. You get yanked violently out of the vision when the water goes cold on you. It feels like you’ve been immersed in one of the snowbanks outside. You almost fall as you step out of the shower, but it’s silent. Your face is flushed in the fogged-up mirror, your eyes fever bright as your blood pulses in your veins in the same rhythm as your aching cunt. You inhale and exhale raggedly, trying to get your libido under control. Please let there be a bar near Nat and Jake’s place - please - you need to get fucked so bad that you’re fantasizing about your wingman, of all people, now. 

It’s getting cold in the bathroom as the steam dissipates when you finally pull yourself together and get dressed fast in a bid to escape the cold. But it is still silent outside the bathroom - almost too silent. You expect laughter at the very least when you open the door because your warmest pajamas are covered in dancing penguins. Instead, Javy’s sitting on the bed, staring out the open window at the milling snow, looking for all the world like he’s lost something he’s just found.

It’s cold in the room, the motel’s shitty heating is barely able to combat the frigid snow outside, and he’s not wearing a shirt. But he doesn’t even notice the gooseflesh on the smooth, broad expanse of his back and chest. The cold blue light reflecting off of the snow piling up outside makes the room even colder, casting deep purplish shadows over his face and making the room eerie. You check that the door is latched and bolted before walking back towards Javy. He doesn’t move a muscle when you take his hands in your own. They’re like ice. He doesn’t even seem to care when you put the pillows down and fish one of your warm fleece blankets out of your bag. Bless Nat and Jake for not having a fully set up guest room yet because there’s no way you’re sleeping in this bed using sheets you’re not sure are clean. The blankets you brought are going to be perfect for the night. He doesn’t move or do anything until you intertwine your fingers with his own and tug on his arm's broad, burly expanse. He lists to the side without protest, and now you know something is wrong. Javy's not the type to do anything quietly. He's the type to shit-talk all the way while flirting endlessly. He turns towards you as you tuck the blanket around his big form, and when you move to pull another blanket out, his hand tugs you in until you’re in his arms.

The pinched furrow creasing his brow finally dissipates slightly. Something’s wrong, and you’re not sure what it is. If this helps, you’ll stay where you are. After all, you’ve slept in far more uncomfortable beds with much worse companions. Javy smells incredible, like soap, cologne, and something you can't place. You curl in closer despite yourself, letting him drag the blanket even further up around your shoulders. Everything is muffled around you. All you can hear is your breath and the soothing thud of his heart. It would be easy to curl in and fall asleep, but you can’t until you know your wingman is alright. But he seems content to lie there, brown eyes glittering with emotions you couldn’t read even if you tried. There’s barely any space between the two of you. Every breath you take has your chest brushing against his.

With the howling wind and the tink of snow against the window, you feel like you’re in a dream. Finally, Javy’s eyes close, even if he is still indescribably tense. You can feel it in the arms wrapped around you and in the muscles jumping in his jaw. His eyes fly open when your fingers trace the stressed tendons lightly.

“What’re you doing, Gypsy?” You’re unsure how to respond; instead, you trace your fingers over the furrow in his brow. Maybe your touch will wipe the stress frown away from his usually jovial face?

“You’re being awfully sweet, Gyppie.” You snort at the diminutive form of your already short callsign. “And here, I thought you hated me.”

Your gasp is barely audible, but you’re sure he can hear it anyway. “You never let it affect things between us when we fly, but I know you can’t stand me.”

“I’ve spent over a decade wondering why.” His next exhale is a harsh whoosh of breath. “But you’ve never told me, and right now, I think I know exactly why. It’s just me, isn’t it, Gyp? Just me and everything that I am.”

Your voice feels stuck. Trapped, lost, chained up behind a decade of hatred, hatred which wavers like it’s standing on a stool that may just have had all of its legs cut out from under it. You curl into Javy’s embrace, wrapping your arms around his waist like it’ll show him you feel differently. Because you do. At first, you had hated Javy Machado. You hated his effortless grace, charm, and ability to pick up concepts you’d had to work to understand yourself. But then he’d been persistent, and you’d been thrust into his company by the presence of Nat and Jake. 

That’s when you’d been able to see past the bravado, the mask he put on every day. That’s when you’d fallen headlong into a more profound and long-lasting crush than any relationship you’d found yourself in. But by the time you realized your feelings, he’d picked up on your stand-offish behavior and realized he couldn’t befriend you. Your crush never faded, but it’s evident that Javy had noticed your initial feelings and acted accordingly. But why would he blame everything that happened on himself?

“I know you’re probably wondering why I’m not home for the holidays right now.” What does that have to do with what he was just talking about? “Just chalk it up to another textbook case of me being myself.”

“I can't say I didn't wonder. But it's not my place to poke and pry. Why you're not heading home to Mama Machado is your business.”

“But you can't deny that you're curious, can you?” You shrug as much as you can with your arms wrapped around him.

“Of course you're curious. But how could I have gone home, Gyppie? How?” There's so much pain in his voice as he growls the words out.

He goes silent then, a frown creasing his face as his jaw moves under your fingertips. Your gentle touch doesn’t seem to bother him, just like the prickle of his stubble doesn’t bother you. In another world, in another life, could you have been sleeping every night in his arms like this? You’re not sure you deserve it. Javy was right earlier. You’ve been rude ever since the day you met him. Would anything have changed if you’d acted differently? If you’d been shy and withdrawn instead of angry and argumentative? That water’s long since flowed under the bridge. Too much time, too much history, too much animosity. All you can hope to do is listen. For your wingman, that’s the least you can do.

But your little nap in the car hadn’t been of much use. The longer you spend pressed against the human equivalent of a space heater, the sleepier you feel. You have to stay awake. This could be your one chance to go from rivals or enemies or colleagues to friends. Maybe you could even casually ask Javy to grab a beer after the holidays? But the first step to all of that is to stay awake.

His hands slide up until they're cradling the back of your head, pulling your face level to his own.

“You're not falling asleep on me, are you, Gyppie?” You shake your head wordlessly, captivated by how you can feel his breath against your lips, practically taste the mint from his toothpaste, and how you could kiss him if you leaned in just a bit further.

“It's okay if you do. You barely slept on the plane. My problems don't mean a thing in the face of your exhaustion.” Once again, you're speechless. How is he so selfless? How did you not notice before this very moment?

“I'm okay, Javy. Tell me one thing that's bothering you, the most important thing.” Your voice is the barest whisper, a sigh as he maneuvers you closer and traps your feet between his calves.

“Well, your feet are like itty-bitty ice cubes, Gyppie. The fuck did you do? Stick ‘em in a snowbank before you get into bed?” You gasp and growl playfully at him, pushing at his chest until he pulls you in even closer.

“But in all seriousness, you've been wondering why I didn't go home.” His words are expelled on exhales of breath, just as quiet as yours were earlier, spilling out in stops and starts. “I can't go home, Gyppie. My brother's wedding is on Christmas Day. But it's not that I'm against my brother's marriage. It's more like his fiancée is against having me there.”

You can’t believe anyone would go so far as to ban Javy from his brother's wedding just because she didn't want him there. You cup his jaw gently, letting your hand curl around to cradle the back of his in a position mirroring how he's still holding you.

“You want to know the kicker, Gyppie? She was my fiancée first. She dumped me because she couldn't stand the deployments and fell into bed with my brother days after.” 

“What a stupid thing to do.” You're no longer looking into his eyes, focused on his collarbones. “That was a dumb move, and you know it, Machado. She just alienated herself from most of your family. Your Mama first and foremost.”

His laughter has you giggling, too. When your laughter and his finally taper off, you're left to marvel at how much things have changed.

“You want to know the best part?” You hum in response. “The reason why we broke up was because I was already in love with someone else.”

He doesn’t wait for you to ask or even allow you a chance to get past your shock. His hands tip your head up again until you're face to face, and he kisses you, slow and sweet. Your moan takes you by surprise as you try to pull him even closer, letting him imprison you in his embrace.

“Fuck, this Christmas would've been so different if I'd just told you how much I loved you before we left flight school, Gyppie.” 

This time, you tug him in, kissing him slow and sweet until there's molten lava in your veins and there's snow in your mind. It's beginning to feel like a holly jolly Christmas indeed.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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[watchmegetobsessed]

❄️HOT AND COLD❄️

A/N: week 2 of fanficmas yeah!! this was the first fic i wrote, some good ol' college!harry to get you all cozy hehe

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY: You decided to spend two more days at the dorm before heading home to have some peace and work on your assignments. However you didn't expect them to turn the heating off once everyone left. No worries, the hot guy living next door is ready to keep you warm.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This fic is part of ❄️ FANFICmas 2022 ❄️ Read more about fanficmas here!

You thought staying two extra days in the dorm before going home for the holidays would be a great idea. Have some quiet and peace for yourself, finish some assignments so you don’t stress about them during Christmas. Theoretically, it was a fantastic idea.

In reality? The worst one you’ve ever had.

You didn’t think they would turn down the heating the moment the dorm empties out. Well, it’s a logical thing to do, but it never occurred to you and you only realized it when the temperature started dropping significantly after the last wave of students left in the morning. You went out to run errands and you could feel the change when you arrived back. The hallways were chillier and your room started to feel like a cave. At first you just sucked it up, put on a hoodie, wrapped yourself in a blanket and got down to business. Your uncle always said you can decide whether you’re cold or not, so you kept thinking about hot things to keep your mind off of how freezing it was starting to get.

Hot tea.

Hot chocolate.

A tub of hot water.

Freshly baked, hot cookies.

The hot guy next door.

Wait, what? How did you end up thinking about Harry?

As you sit on your bed with your textbooks surrounding you, an all too familiar voice makes your ears perk up. You’d recognize it anywhere and it never fails to make your heart pitter-patter, but now you’re surprised to hear it since you thought you were the last one left in the building.

Well, you were wrong.

You hear Harry Styles striding down the hallway, singing Jingle Bells without a care. You get out of bed before you could think and throw your door open, catching him by surprise judging from the little jump he does as he turns around.

“Y/N? You’re still here?”

“I was just about to ask the same question from you,” you chuckle, stepping out into the hallway, but your smile soon turns into shock when you see him sporting shorts and just a shirt. “How have you not turned into ice wearing that?”

Chuckling he looks down at himself.

“I have a heater of my own. I could turn my room into a sauna,” he jokes and you can’t help a stupid laugh that slips out of your mouth.

You always lose your cool around him, he’s been your ultimate college crush since you moved in at the beginning of the semester and you usually end up making a fool of yourself in front of him. Whether it’s talking gibberish or dripping eggs when he walks into the kitchen, he has seen you at your worst in these two months you’ve been living next to each other.

“You’re not going home for winter break?” he asks, striking up a conversation and you pray you don’t embarrass yourself this time.

“Oh, I am, but only late tomorrow. Wanted some alone time before going home to the family, study and stuff, you know…”

“Clever,” he nods with a smile.

“What about you?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow too, I was supposed to go home today, but my flight got cancelled.”

“That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs. “You’re sitting in your cold room all by yourself?”

“Well, not everyone has their own fireplace,” you snort out a laugh, but it sounded funnier in your head for sure.

“Come over to mine,” he offers and you have to fight yourself not to let your mouth hang open.

You’ve hung out before, ran into each other at parties and while your crush is deeply rooted at this point, you two aren’t exactly the closest friends, you haven’t been in his room before, haven’t even hugged him so entering into his private space is the most intimate you’d ever get with him.

“Um, I don’t want to bother—“

“Y/N, you’re not bothering, I’m just playing video games.”

“B-But still…”

“You’d rather freeze to death in your room than to be around me? I have to say I’m a little hurt.” With a hand over his heart he gives you a disappointed look, though you can tell he’s just teasing you.

“You really don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have invited you over if I did. Come on, bring all your stuff.”

And so you end up moving over to Harry’s room that feels like paradise. The temperature is perfect, you can get rid of your hoodie as you settle on top of his bed while he sits by his desk with his PC, some kind of action game paused on the screen.

His room is oddly tidy for a college boy. The bed was made even before you appeared, there are no dirty clothes on the floor, only in the hamper in the corner, his bookshelf is crowded, but it seems to have a system in it that probably only he knows.

“Is it warm enough?” he asks, settling at his computer.

“Yeah, thanks,” you nod, feeling a bit out of place, but the warmth feels nice.

“Cool,” he nods before turning back to his game and unpausing it.

For the first hour you just coexist in peace. It takes you some time to focus on studying with Harry being so close and also being in Harry’s room, but the feeling wears down and you can finally work efficiently while he keeps himself busy with his game. But then he stops playing and becomes more interested in whatever you are doing.

“You haven’t finished this sheet yet?” he asks, holding up the statistics task sheet you’ve been putting off for over a month now.

“No,” you sigh in defeat. “I’m not really good at statistics.”

“Want me to help? I’m in Dr. Thomson’s Thursday class, but we went over the same thing too.”

“It’s my homework, I don’t want to bore you with it.”

“It’s fine, I actually liked these tasks.”

So then the evening turns into tutoring, Harry sits on the bed beside you, explaining you how to solve the tasks and even shows a better method you understand way more than what you were taught. After that, he just sticks to studying with you, though it slowly turns into anything and everything but studying. He clearly loses interest in helping you, but he doesn’t seem to want to leave you alone and your focus breaks too. Of course you’d rather hang out with Harry than write a paper on Switzerland’s economy!

You’re having a blast. Both of you. It’s the first time hanging out one-on-one, but it’s going better than you imagined. You haven’t made a fool out of yourself, even cracked some jokes that made him laugh, though he is surely the funnier one. He is telling you all kinds of crazy stories from before college and also asks you about your high school years.

“Mm, this was great, though I did not get as much done as I planned to,” you chuckle, taking a look at your stack of textbooks.

“But we had a good time and that’s all that matters,” he grins at you, hugging his pillow.

“Alright. I’ll get out of your hair,” you move to pack your things and return to your room, but then he speaks up.

“What are you doing?”

“Going back to my room.”

“You didn’t think I would let you sleep in the cold, did you?”

“What, you want me to sleep here?” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Sure. There’s plenty of space for us. You’re sleeping here tonight,” he simply states.

About twenty minutes later, you’re sitting on the edge of his bed in your pajamas, waiting for him to return from his shower.

You’re really about to sleep in the same bed as Harry Styles. Hopefully you won’t kick him in the groin or say something stupid in your dreams or drool on him or—“

“You look worried,” he comments as he walks in, dropping his used clothes into his hamper. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. Totally awesome and perfect!”

God, you are so awkward!

“Okay,” he smiles to himself. “Take whatever side you want. It’s not a king sized bed, but it’s fine for two people for one night.”

You gulp at the thought of Harry spending the night here with another girl, jealousy bubbles in your chest.

“At least Niall and I survived the time he got locked out of his room,” he adds with a chuckle and you exhale in relief.

You end up taking the inner side of the bed and you lie on your side as he makes himself comfortable on the outer side. It’s really not too spacious, but at least it’s warm and smells like Harry.

“Thanks for… letting me crash here,” you whisper into the silence. Harry turns to you with a tiny, but charming smile.

“I’m glad it’s you I have to share my warmth with,” he cheekily says and heat rushes into your cheeks right away. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry.”

 

You knew you’d end up tangled together. It was inevitable in such a small space. But still, your heart starts racing when you wake up and find yourself cuddling Harry, who has his arms around you as well. He’s warm and soft, definitely meant to be cuddled in your humble opinion.

He stirs in his sleep and your heart jumps when his eyes flutter open. He doesn’t move away, in fact, he pulls you closer as he exhales lazily.

“Good morning,” he mumbles groggily.

“Mornin’,” you breathe out, feeling like a giddy little girl.

 “I hope you weren’t cold,” he chuckles softly and you feel his chest vibrating underneath your cheek.

“No. I felt nice and warm.”

“Alright,” he smiles. “When is your flight?”

“Five thirty. What about yours?”

“Six. Want to share an Uber to the airport?”

“Sure,” you nod.

You spend most of your time left together. You grab a late breakfast, then hang out in his room and not just because his room is the only place in the building that hasn’t turned into a freezer. It feels natural to be around each other.

Then you share a ride to the airport, grab coffee and then wait together until it’s time for you to go to your gate.

“Well, have a great time at home,” he smiles at you.

“You too. Thanks for… everything,” you chuckle softly. “I’ll see you after the break and...”

Don’t forget about me, you want to say, but you bite it back.

There’s something hanging between the two of you, something unsaid and you fear you’ll have to leave without changing that.

“Okay, I’ll… go,” you mumble, grabbing your suitcase, but before you could walk away, Harry pulls you back.

“When we come back, do you want to… Do you want to go out? With me?”

You can’t stop your mouth from hanging open this time, his question came as a total shock.

“Honestly, I’ve been crushing on you for a while, but every time we spoke you seemed so frightened and ran away, so I took it as a sign,” he admits with a nervous chuckle. “But I think last night was nice, I liked hanging out with you and there’s a chance you feel the same way, so I thought I would… shoot my shot.”

You open your mouth, but then close it as his words sink in. He thought you didn’t like him. Because you ran away from him. But that was because you were into him. What a mess.

“Yes,” is all that comes out of your mouth at last.

“Yes as in…?”

“Yes, I want to go out with you,” you elaborate chuckling. “And I only ran away because I really liked you and I was too nervous.”

You watch his face light up before he nods.

“Great! I mean, not that you were too nervous,” he grins. “So then… Date. When we come back.”

“Yeah,” you nod, mirroring his widening smile. “I have to… I have to go now.”

“Alright. See you… next year then,” he chuckles and leaning closer he kisses the corner of your mouth before you part ways.

After that, you’re basically glued to your phone, nonstop talking to Harry throughout winter break and you’ve never wanted to return to school so badly before. You text, call and send pictures to each other continuously and you can’t even remember the times when it wasn’t like this.

When you return to campus in January, your excitement is kicking high, though on the day of your arrival, Harry’s responses come way less often than they used to, but you’re not trying to see too much into it.

As you’re unpacking your suitcase there’s a knock on your door and when you open it, your heart skips not just one, but probably several beats when you see him standing in the hallway with a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“Don’t you feel cold in here? I think you should come over to my room.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[beaker1636]

Baby It's Cold Outside - Vinny Mauro College AU Smut

A/N: So I know I said no requests posted until Fridays and Saturdays but I am so excited about this one, I absolutely love it. It may be my best smut story to date at almost 6,000 words! So I decided to post it early because I am too excited and can't wait to share it! The request was literally just Vinny Christmas Smut, and while this doesn't touch a lot on Christmas it is where my mind went. Hope you enjoy!!

God damnit, you groan in your head as you trudge through the cold weather towards the house of your classmate.  Of course Vinny would skip one of the final classes before winter break, making your teacher ask you to take the assignment to him… meaning you had to walk out in the cold, and had to do it this morning before the storm hit.

Truthfully you could have done it last night but you just didn’t want to, preferring to return to your dorm room so that you could sulk about the task you are currently doing in your head.  You’re hoping that the rest of the guys he lives with are gone already, so you only have to deal with him, but who knows.  You honestly were shocked when you found out he hasn’t left to go home for the holiday yet, he is extremely close to his family.  Yet another reason for you to be jealous of him, but you would never admit that.

You finally walk up the sidewalk to the house, knocking on the door.  You don’t expect him to answer right away given it is only 10 in the morning, and any usual college student would still be sleeping in at this point in the day on a day of no classes.  So when the door opens almost immediately you are almost caught off guard, to be met with Vinny standing there, tousled hair from sleep and a smile on his face.

“Hi, I was sent to give you the homework you missed.  Because Prof decided you needed to be miserable over Christmas break.”

Apparently you shouldn’t have said that, because Vinny immediately laughs, his bright grin on his face while you try to dampen the emotions in your chest that it made you feel, reminding yourself that he doesn’t like you in that way. Bringing yourself back down to earth not focusing on how attractive he looks right now.

“Thank you, why don’t you come in for a moment before you get too cold.  Have a cup of coffee in thanks for bringing this all the way here for me,” he offers, stepping aside so that you could step inside the house around him, his voice still rough from sleep.

You slowly step inside, taking in the warmth that your body was craving and letting your eyes wander around the empty and clean house that he shares with his band that they’ve formed.  Last time you were here was for a party where a window was broken by Ryan while playing a dumb game and people were everywhere, a moment that had you too close to Vinny that you are praying he was too drunk to remember.

“Where is everyone else?” You ask curiously, not taking off your coat or boots to give the wrong impression that you were going to get comfortable.

“They all left already for the holidays, I was the last one to get a flight that leaves in a few days unfortunately.”

Oh, so it was just the two of you alone.  You tried your best to look normal, unfazed by this revelation despite the fact that you are currently nervous being in such close proximity, worried that your crush that you have been hiding for years is going to break through.  Though you had to admit it was painful, the fact you have waited for years hoping that he would notice you but he never did.  You were still boring old y/n from highschool, despite the fact you are now in college together.  You have always just been friends, and you accepted that years ago unfortunately.  Nothing has changed through the years except he somehow got hotter than is fair, more than any other guys your age, but that is besides the point.

With you lost in your mind it gave Vin a chance to watch you, trying to figure out what he did wrong.  Ever since that party a few weeks ago things have been different between both of you, you giving him the cold shoulder most of the time, and he can’t even remember what he did. He noticed you looked stiff, but didn’t want to ask what you we’re thinking about and scaring you off like he has always been good at.

“Come on, let's get coffee,” he offered, moving to lead you towards the kitchen but noticing that you hadn’t moved.

Truthfully, you are trying to figure out what your excuse to leave can be, wanting to head out the door and never come back, not able to ignore the clear edge in his voice.  He didn’t seem upset though, in fact something a bit more was in his gaze, even if he seemed friendly, not on guard.

“I’m serious, you have to be freezing, it is damn near below zero and windy because of the storm moving in.  You’re still shivering and have your coat on. I can even loan you a cup to take it in if you want to leave that bad but I would rather you at least come in and warm up some,” he says, giving you a warm smile.  Hoping to coax you into staying for at least a little bit, so he can pick your brain, figure out what he did to upset you so much.  

Damn him, now you can’t leave without looking like a jerk, he is being so friendly it would look bad if you said no.  And truthfully as cold as you are coffee does sound nice right about now.  

“Sure,” you say. “I could use some heat, but I want to get out of here and to my dorm before this storm officially hits.”

The tension in the air disappears as you follow him into the kitchen.  You watch as Vinny pours you a cup when suddenly you hear the wind pick up, the lights flickering in the house and you panic.  This was not good at all.  The weatherman said the snow storm wasn’t going to be here until tomorrow and now it is hitting early, you never would have left your house if you knew it would hit early.

“Should we be worried?” You ask, you hate storms of any kind and the lights flickering makes you anxious, worried that the lights will go out and that you will be stuck here, you don’t want that.  

“The house doesn’t always like wind and storms, especially as windy as it is getting.  Cream and Sugar for your coffee, correct?” He says, deflecting your question, trying to distract you because he remembers how much you hate storms.

“Yes please, so anyways should we be worried?” You ask again, watching him pull some creamer out and pour it into your cup and adding a little sugar before handing it back to you with a smile, hoping that it was correct.  Watching your expression when you take the first sip, hoping that you enjoy it.

“Good?”

“It is good, thank you,” you say with a smile, taking another sip as you close your eyes to take in the warmth from the cup before you glance at him with a stern look. “Okay now stop distracting me please, I want you to answer my question.

You meet his eyes, watching his reaction closely as he goes to answer, but as he does the house goes dark, like something has been pulled over the windows as the power goes out.  You glance out the windows and notice that it is dumping snow, suddenly anxious at the weather change.

“Fuck, that actually just happened.  Thank god you got here before it suddenly hit,” he says, giving you a nervous look before helping you to the couch and pulling his phone out of his pocket to pull the weather up.  “They’re talking about downed wires and power outages, that we need to stay inside.  Guess you are stuck with me for now.  Thank god we have the fireplace and a lot of wood in here, I will get that going.”

Vinny says before scurrying off, getting started at lighting the fireplace so that the two of you have some heat, even if it isn’t a lot it will be enough for you both as you watch him, your nerves growing as you listen to the wind howl.

He gets it going and then walks off, before returning with a thick blanket for you, laying it over your lap before starting to light some candles that he found, bringing a little more light to the room around you.  “I’m going to grab some blankets to insulate the house as much as I can, fill the gaps under the door and windows.  Want to help?” He asks.

You get up and help him do that, to help prevent the cold air from making its way into the house that is already getting cooler, both of you somewhat miserable in the rest of the house and letting out a sigh when you sit on the couch, pulling the blanket over both of you.

It is now that it hits you that you are stuck here with Vinny, sitting closely to him on the couch.  You try to ignore the fact your stomach is in knots, you aren’t sure if it is nerves because of the storm or because you are so close to him right now… or maybe it is both.

“Hey, I know storms freak you out.  How are you feeling?” His voice startled you, but you quickly relaxed into the warmth of the blanket.

“Uhh a little cold, but alright I think.  At least I am not stuck weathering the storm alone in the dorm,” you say softly, trying not to let out just how cold or freaked out you actually are at the moment.

“Shit, you are cold,” he says the second his hand rests on yours to comfort you, able to tell it is bothering you more than you are letting on.  “Stand up for a second, I will move the couch closer to the fireplace.”

You do as he asks, watching as he moves it closer to the fireplace before both of you settle on it again.  This time he sits a lot closer to you, pulling you into his side without a word, you know you are blushing at this.

“This will help keep you warm, if you are okay with this,” he says sheepishly, realizing that he probably shouldn’t have just done that, hoping that you aren’t mad.

You nod, not responding as you sigh contently, curling up next to him and taking advantage of his body heat.  Truthfully, he only did this so he could be close to you, wanting to feel your touch, but he wouldn’t admit that out loud.  He adjusted to pull you onto his lap, letting you soak in his body heat that he is sharing while your face is pressed into his neck. 

“Thank you, this is…. Nice,” you say shyly, glad he can’t see the look on your face as you are probably blushing again.  You are gladly going to take advantage of this, it’ll haunt your dreams for months to come.  You move, your hands resting on his arms, making him jump.

“Fuck, you are freezing.  Why are you like this,” he says, shivering slightly at your cold touch, making you giggle.

“I don’t know, I just always have cold hands.  I’m sorry,” you say softly, moving to pull them away but his hands rest on yours, holding them to him.

Neither of you say much for awhile, just basking in the warmth from the fireplace while curled up together under the blankets.  Eventually a hand is in your hair, gently stroking it, letting it run between his fingers for several moments, making you sigh and lean into him more, enjoying the gentle touches.  He hears your quiet sigh in his ear and continues, enjoying the fact that he can tell just how sensitive you are to his touch.

“You’re sensitive there… Where else?” He asks you, you are almost able to hear the smile in voice as you try not to answer, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. You also are not wanting to admit this to him in fear that he will stop touching you, and you are enjoying it, even if it is only your hair too much to let him stop.

He takes your silence as his permission to keep going and slowly slides his hand down the side of your neck before settling close to your collarbone, gently stroking it while trying to gauge your reaction.  Satisfied when you let out a soft moan, letting him know that you are enjoying his touch right now, more than you probably should when he is barely touching you.

“You are a mess huh,” he says lowly, continuing to lightly run his fingers along your collarbone, teasing you, wanting to draw more sounds out of you.  “I can keep touching you if you want, doesn’t have to be anything naughty, just this.”

You want to be alarmed, want to say no and fight him off when his hands move down, roving your covered hips and thighs briefly before returning to rub circles along your neck, happy that you are now leaning into his touch.  He is pretty sure he knows your answer even if you won’t say it out loud.

“I- I mean I guess. It was… it felt good.  But won’t this change things between us?” You ask, embarrassed at everything that is currently taking place.  To be admitting that the man is barely touching you and you are already thoroughly enjoying it.

“I think things changed at the party, don’t you?  Can I ask you a question about that night?” he asks you, hands leaving soothing circles against your lower back.  Trying to keep you relaxed enough that you won’t try to run when he asks what he wants to ask.

You nod, him feeling the movement against his neck where you still have your face nestled, glad he couldn’t see how much you were blushing.

“Would you have actually slept with me that night if Rick didn’t walk into the room?” He asks, his hands moving to your hair again as his nails lightly move across your scalp, the feeling almost distracting you from his question, you trying to think of the best answer you could come up with.  When you don’t answer him in the time frame he feels like waiting he lightly pulls on your hair, making you gasp.

“I asked you a question y/n, don’t be rude and ignore it.”

“I-I don’t know, maybe?” You mumble, embarrassed that he is asking you this.  That he is bringing up that night again.  That you are being forced to think about the night you shamelessly kissed him while drunk and it led to more between the two of you… and the fact that you fled the second you got the chance when Rick accidentally walked in on both of you.

“You don’t have to be so shy, you can admit that you would have. It’s only us here and I think you are just as into me as I have been into you for years at this point,” he says cockily, knowing that you are getting anxious and will want to end this conversation. 

He distracts you by moving his hands down the back of your neck, trailing along the soft skin with light pressure, trying to work the tension out of your body as his hands slowly work on it.  Wanting to relax you, to make you comfortable with him. 

“Okay, so I do have a crush on you.  But I can’t say yes for sure because I-well I’ve never done that before so I don’t know if I would have agreed or not that night,” you admit, somehow feeling safe and comfortable in his arms, with him, to admit to him that you are a virgin despite being in college now and aren’t sure what you want or wanted that night.

“Okay, now it is my turn to be caught off guard.  I didn’t expect that to be what was holding you back.  I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry,” he says softly, worried that he embarrassed you too much and made you uncomfortable, if he made you admit to a secret that you weren’t ready to share with anyone.

Neither one of you speaks as he continues to lightly rub your neck, something that you feel like you should not be enjoying but you are. You are enjoying his hands on you much more than you probably should, and the way he gets you to shift every so often on his lap is making him a little harder than he feels like he should be right now.  Worried you will notice it and it will bother you that he is.

“Is this okay,” he asks, reaching for the zipper of your hoodie that you have on, hoping that you will let him remove it.  When it hit you what you were asking you said sure, pulling away from him a little so that he could do so, letting him slide it off your shoulders.  

He slips his hands under your thighs for a moment so he can move you, your back now against his chest as you lean into him, into his touch and warmth as he settles his hands against your now exposed collarbone, running his hand over it gently as he continues to lightly touch you.  His goal now is to make you enjoy his touch, make you crave it and possibly allow him to touch you elsewhere, get you to recognize that you enjoy it.

His fingers brush over your throat as he moves to your other collarbone, making you quite aware of where his hand is.  You breathe in, and hope that he can’t feel it, that you are aware that if he barely moved he would be able to choke you, something that you don’t feel should be such an arousing thought to you but it is.  But he does realize what the barely there touch just did to you and settles his hand at the base of your throat, not applying any pressure but rather lightly stroking it with his thumb as he feels you take a couple shaky breaths.  Praying that he can’t see the more than likely flushed look on your face, the half closed aroused look on your face because you don’t want him to know what he is doing to you right now.

“You still good?” He asks, checking in on you with a low chuckle.  He knows that you are, can tell by how you are shifting and breathing but he wants to hear you say it.

“Great,” you say softly, regretting the word choice that you just used.  You don’t want to come across desperate despite the fact that is how you feel at the moment.  

“I’m glad, tell me if you want me to stop.”

His hands start to slide down, lightly gliding over your breasts, making you gasp slightly but his hands keep going, settling on your stomach while he lets out a chuckle.

“It’s just us, you don’t have to hold anything in.  Please don’t, let me hear what I am doing to you,” he whispers in your ear, his hands settling on your hips.

His fingers lightly digging into the soft flesh there, rubbing circles just barely under your shirt as you continue to try and hide how you are feeling, not wanting him to stop but also still not willing to show just how much you are enjoying this, enjoying him.  When the hell had you gotten so warm, maybe it was a bad idea to let him move the couch up closer to the fireplace.  

Before too long his hands settle on your lower back, between the two of you.  Firming massaging your tight muscles there, trying to work out all your anxiety you are holding, because again, he wants you relaxed, enjoying this.  He wants to enjoy having his hands on you, getting to worship your body as much as you will allow him because he doesn’t know if you will ever give him this chance again, and even if you will he now knows that this is your first time doing anything like this and wants you to enjoy it, not feel used at all.

His hands slowly work there way up as he feels you continue to slowly unwind under his touch, now much closer to your ribcage when they slide back to your front, teasing you right under where your bra sits, trying to gauge if he is allowed to keep going or not.  Judging on how you sighed into his touch and leaned into him he is pretty sure that you are allowing this.

You stiffen slightly when you lean back into him, you are able to feel how hard he is against you, but quickly relax again, and shift yourself against him slightly because while you haven’t done much you have read plenty and are confident that he will hopefully enjoy it.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, slightly embarrassed that you noticed, worried that it will make you retreat back into yourself, but it doesn’t.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you say softly, playing dumb.  And while you know that he isn’t stupid and that he knows that you know why he’s apologizing, you felt that would be easier.  To ignore it and pretend that you aren’t aware of what is happening with him, because honestly you are too far gone at this point, he could do just about anything he wants to with you and you would let him.

The tension between the two of you finally snapped, him urging you to turn back towards him and the second you do his lips are on yours. Moving against your own urgently, wanting nothing more than to feel you closer to him as you now straddle his lap, your own arms around his neck as you lightly move your hips against his own.  

One of his hands is still under your shirt as he slowly slips it off of you, his hand starting to slowly ease the cup of your bra out of his way before he gives up and unhooks it with his other hand, giving himself more room to touch you.  To lightly squeeze and palm your breast underneath the cup of your bra, holding back his own groan when he hears you lightly moan against his lips.  His fingers move so that they can lightly rub over our nipple, feeling it harden almost immediately from his touch.  He hesitantly slides the straps off his arms, going slowly so that you have time to stop him if you want to, but you don’t.

He pulls his lips away from yours, looking at your face as he continues to toy with your nipple between his fingers, trying to read your face, loving the flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes that he sees.  

“You’re so sensitive.  Has anyone ever touched you like this?” He asks, face moving to your neck as he begins to lightly kiss and suck on the sensitive skin there while he moves his hand to your other breast, giving it the same attention as you continue to move your hips, now seeking that friction between both of you.

“N-no,” you whimper, trying hard to keep your composure and failing, it is so hard to focus with his lips in such a sensitive place and his hands teasing you so much.  You never expected to enjoy any of this so much and now that you are, well it’s making it hard to think, all your reservations now slowly slipping.

His hands slowly move, now slipping down your torso towards your waist, leaving more teasing and light touches right above the waistband of your jeans, dipping barely under it before slipping back out while his lips find yours again.

“Can I take your jeans off?” He asks you in between kisses as he slowly moves, laying your back down against the couch while he leans over the top of you, aching to touch you, to feel how wet he has made you.

You tense at his words and he immediately notices, pulling his hand away to settle on your cheek, stroking your jaw lightly as he pulls his lips away from yours, making you look at him.

“We don’t have to keep going, again, this is whatever you are comfortable with.” He says gently, eyes meeting yours as he tries to give you a reassuring smile, one that slightly worked.

“Jeans can come off, but I- I don’t think I am ready to go all the way, so panties are staying on please,” you answer, hoping that he won’t be upset with you.  

“I can work with that,” he says gently, moving so that he can slip his own off, kicking them off his foot while you slowly slip out of your own.  

You watch as he removes his own shirt too before he settles back over you, bringing his lips to yours again, much softer than before, as if he was trying to reassure you that everything is going to be alright, that he isn’t upset that you aren’t willing to completely go there yet.

His hand slowly slips down between both of you while you held your breath, unsure what to think, embarrassed because you know that you are soaked and he is going to feel it, know just how much of an effect his hands are having on you.

His eyes go wide when he finally settles his fingers over your covered slit, moving lightly against it, able to feel how damp your panties are under his touch, incredibly turned on by the fact he has made you this way.  He slowly moves them to the side so that he can actually touch you, feeling your arousal on his skin as he lightly moves his fingers between your folds, coating them before using one to circle your clit, making you suck in a sharp breath.

“Fuck,” he groans softly, pulling away so that he can look at your face, taking note of how you seem to be a permanent shade of red at this point, and enjoying that you are.

His attention returns to his hand where it is down below, now really starting to work his fingers against your clit, giving you more pleasure than you have thought imaginable.  This is definitely much better than when you get yourself off in your bed at night, it feels so much better.  You don’t try to hide your moan when it slips out of your lips, encouraging him more.

Your hands winding into his hair as you pull his lips to your own again, you honestly don’t think you can get enough of them at this point.  Of his lips on yours, swallowing all your sounds as he drags you closer and closer to the edge, making you question why you never let him do this sooner.

When he finally pulls you over the edge your whole body tenses for a moment, your back arching and pressing your chest into his as you come undone at the hands of someone else for the first time.  He pulls his lips away from yours again so he can watch you as you do, the sight more arousing than any of the porn he has ever watched, than any of the other women he has been with before.  

When you relax under his touch he leaves a couple gentle kisses on your lips, wanting you to feel comfortable and able to tell that he cares about how you are doing as you both smile at each other as your chest heaves from your heavy breaths as you come back down.

You don’t say a word as you push on his shoulder, urging him off of you before you glance at him, shy but determined.  Feeling a new sort of confidence as you want to return the favor, want to make him enjoy himself too.

“Lay down Vin, please,” you ask him shyly, hoping that he listens and allows you to do this without questioning you.  He looks at you for a second, reading your face before speaking.

“You don’t have to touch me you know,” he says softly, wanting to make sure you don’t feel forced into anything.  While you appreciate this, and find it incredibly sweet you still want to return the favor.

“I know, but please?” you ask again, watching as he processes your question and lays back, his back against the cushions of the couch as he listens.

You slowly move the band of his boxers down, watching as his length springs free from its confines before you hesitantly wrap your hand around it, barely gripping it as you move your hand up and down, stroking him gently.  You’re assuming that you are doing this right based on the groan that leaves his lips as he watches you, egging you on to continue your touch.

His hand wraps around yours, encouraging you to grip him tighter before letting it go, letting you continue on your own as he throws his head back for a moment, almost unbelieving that this is happening right now, but it is.

He moves to watch you again, seeing you gain confidence as he grows closer and closer from your touch, before he finally finishes his cum decorating your pretty hand while you watch his face for a moment, looking away the second his eyes meet yours, embarrassed.

“Hey, don’t be shy with me now. Let me go grab something to clean your hand up, yeah?” He asks, sitting up and giving you a soft kiss before walking away, returning with a towel and a shirt for you to slip on after you are both cleaned up as you both sit in the awkward silence for a moment, watching the fire.  You can tell he is thinking something, but you aren’t sure what.  

“What’s wrong,” you ask him quietly, turning to look at him.

“Don’t worry about it, it is nothing bad, promise,” he says softly. “Just stupid shit.”

“It’s not stupid if it is bothering you Vin,” you respond, reaching out to lightly rub his arm, wanting him to be open with you as you just were with him.

“I’m worried I fucked up by doing this, because I gladly would do it again but would you? I feel like I pressured you into it,” he admits, refusing to meet your gaze as he continues watching the fire.

“You asked more than once if I wanted you to stop, and I didn’t.  And you were right, things changed at the party a few weeks ago between us and no matter how much I want to deny that I can’t.  You were sweet, making sure that I was alright the entire time, and even if I wanted to I can’t deny I’ve wanted more between us for a while,” you respond, somehow having a new found confidence after everything.  Maybe it is just because you have seeing him unhappy, unsure of himself but you felt the need to reassure him, to let him know just how you feel about him even if you are risking him feeling the same.

“It has always been you y/n, since we were stupid kids in highschool until now.  I guess mauve I should have told you sooner but it’s true,” he says, now turning towards you.  Hoping you can tell that he is telling you the truth, that you are happy with the truth.

“Really?” you ask with a slight smile, unable to help yourself when it spreads across your face.

“Yes, now if you don’t mind I want to kiss you until you ask me to stop, until this blizzard stops and we can’t anymore,” he says with a smile. “How long was this even supposed to go on?”

“A couple days, so we may wind up stuck here for Christmas unfortunately,” you respond softly, a little disappointed that you might not be home for the holiday, it didn’t hit you until just now when you two started talking about the storm again.

“Well, good thing we have enough wood for a few days, and we just may wind up having our first Christmas together in the process.  And that gives me plenty of time to enjoy this” he says, pulling you into him so that he could kiss you again, making you giggle.

“I guess so.”

[wutwutno1]

Vizzy Nom

Based off of @stormtheskyelf2 's Lizzy headcanon story idea Idea origin: https://www.tumblr.com/stormtheskyelf2/747575904113393664/lizzy-headcanon-anon-btw-you-have-some?source=share Read tags before reading. You have been warned

“Damn purple thing.”

V flew through the bunker halls, looking for Lizzy. Her wings wired softly as the anti-grav engines hummed away, propelling her forward through the cold air.

V felt the cool air rushing past her, making the already naturally cold six inch tall drone feel even colder.

“I will so get her back for this. . .”

V continued with her flight, although she knew she’d have to stop before her engines got too cold to function.

V looked around at the looming pieces of furniture and massive doors rushed past as she flew past them. She found a suitable box to land on and circled back to it. Her peg feet landed on them with a soft click.

V’s wings retracted into her back. V shuddered, feeling the cold metal enter her barely-warm-enough-to-function body. One of the many downsides of being tiny.

V sat on the box and huddled up to herself. V looked around. This hall was full of lockers and posters relating to school and education. V saw a few posters for the prom that was more than a month ago. V scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Ugh. They still have those up? These are some lazy worker drones. At least I’m at the school. Lizzy’s class should be ending in a few minutes. I just gotta wait and pray she comes through here.”

As if on cue, the school bell rang, and students began filing out of the classrooms. V watched as each student passed, waiting for her friend to walk past.

V saw Lizzy’s blond hair among the crowd of semi-mindless worker drones. V checked her core temperature, and upon deciding it was safe for her to make the short flight, unfurled her wings and took off. She flew up into the air and began to glide down to Lizzy, targeting her head.

Lizzy felt a something small splat on the back of her head and latch on. Instinctively, she grabbed it. Whatever it was, it felt like an action figure had clung to the back of her head. Lizzy felt it cling to her hand as she brought it to her face to inspect.

V landed in Lizzy’s hair and latched on. She clung to Lizzy's hair, relishing the slight warmth it offered, until someone yanked her away once more. V squeaked reflexively and clung to the hand that tore her away. It was warm. It was nice.

“V?! What are you wearing?!” Lizzy shrieked before changing to a more calm and smug tone, “Also, what happened to you?”

V looked at her outfit. She had ditched her crop-top jacket for an actual winter coat and snow pants since her body could barely keep up with the cold and keep her warm enough to function. V sighed and looked up at Lizzy.

“Old one was too cold. I will literally die wearing anything else.”

V let go of Lizzy’s fingers, not wanting to ruin her image in front of Lizzy.

“As for what happened, Uzi was using her freak powers and shrunk me. She says it was an ‘accident,’ but I think it was on purpose.

Lizzy laughed. Her grip on V loosened until V was just sitting on her flat palm.

“Are you still going to the sleepover?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“Well, does my tiny little killer need a lift?”

V blushed slightly at Lizzy calling her her little killer, but it quickly went away.

“I will rip your voice box out of your throat once I’m big again, but yes. I do need a lift.”

“Ha!”

Lizzy and V knew V’s threat wasn’t genuine. V has never followed through with a threat to Lizzy, but it didn’t matter. Lizzy lifted V and placed her on her shoulder. V gladly sat down and leaned on Lizzy’s neck, blushing lightly as she did so.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up. I need the warmth. I will literally die without it. This doesn’t mean anything. Shut up.”

Lizzy just chuckled and began walking to her living quarters. . . .

Lizzy arrived and opened the door. Only one other girl arrived and was already sitting on Lizzy’s couch.

Rebecca lazed on Lizzy’s couch waiting for Lizzy to arrive. Once Lizzy did she slowly stood up.

“Took ya long enough.”

“Shut up. Where is everyone else?”

Rebecca shrugged.

“Jess is dead, Becky has a virus, and Diane had better things to do.”

“Damn. So just us three, huh?”

“Three?”

“Oh yeah.”

Lizzy grabbed V off her shoulder and held her in her cupped hands.

“V’s here, even though she’s so tiny.”

V grumbled and crossed her arms while sitting in Lizzy's cupped hands, giving the impression that she was annoyed to be there. Rebecca looked between Lizzy and V. She knew they had a crush on each other, but were unwilling to show it. Rebecca grinned, already formulating plans to get them to confess.

“Alright then. Let's get this party started!”

The girls then went to Lizzy’s room. They started with a few games and a movie. After a few hours, they began to play Truth or Dare. Rebecca knew this was her chance. She just had to set them up perfectly.

Rebecca already had a plan. She had recently learned of vore, and she was going to dare Lizzy to vore v, knowing she wouldn’t do it. Lizzy would then have to confess her feelings for V to explain why she wasn't taking the dare. It was foolproof!

“Okay, that was pretty stupid V. Now then, Lizzy. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Lizzy said, smugly.

Rebecca grinned. Now was her chance.

“I dare you to vore V!”

Lizzy and V paused. This was unexpected of Rebecca. They both knew what vore was, but they were now thinking that Rebecca was a fan of it.

V laughed while Lizzy blushed. V knew that Lizzy wouldn’t do it, which is why Lizzy’s next words made her oil feel even colder than it already was.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

V jerked her head to face Lizzy, confusion etched on her face.

“Excuse me?”

V yelped as Lizzy’s fingers grabbed her coat hood and lifted her into the air. V kicked and thrashed as Lizzy brought the tiny morsel of a drone to her face.

“It’ll be fine, V. It’s warm in there, I promise.”

Rebecca watched on in horror as Lizzy lifted V above her mouth. Lizzy opened her maw and allowed her warm breath to waft over V, causing the smaller drone to tremble.

“W-wait, Lizzy! C-can’t we talk about this?”

Without a word, Lizzy drops V into her mouth. Lizzy’s jaws snap shut behind V as she felt Lizzy’s soft tongue sink beneath her. V pushed against the roof of Lizzy’s mouth, trying to open her mouth, but Lizzy’s spongy tongue just compressed and sunk more.

Lizzy giggled feeling V wiggle in her mouth. It was a weird feeling, but she liked it. Lizzy did a mental countdown and swallowed, pulling V halfway into her throat. Lizzy could feel V’s legs kicking in her throat. It tickled, but Lizzy was on a mission. She couldn’t fail this dare.

On the second swallow, Lizzy's throat completely engulfed V, dragging her down to her stomach. Lizzy traced V’s descent with her finger, feeling her wiggle all the way down. Lizzy turned back to Rebecca, who had wide hollow eyes and was covering her mouth in a mix of horror and shock.

“What?”

“Y-you actually ate her.”

“What, didn’t think I’d do it?”

“Y-yeah? You were supposed to say no and confess your feelings for V. . .”

*Lizzy blushes and averts her gaze. Her arms instinctively cross over her abdomen.

“F-feelings? For V?”

Inside Lizzy’s stomach, V was panicking. V kicked and thrashed against the soft spongy walls. It was warm and slimy in Lizzy’s tummy. V couldn’t believe that Lizzy had gone through with the dare.

V looked around the space. The pink glow from LEDs hidden in the folds of the walls illuminated the grey walls that V looked around. V was half submerged in a pink glowing liquid that dripped from the walls. The space was soft and warm. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was panicking and in Lizzy’s stomach, V might have enjoyed it. The walls absorbed all of V’s attempts to escape, making V feel trapped and alone.

Lizzy could feel V’s struggles. Lizzy’s smile widened as she turned to Rebecca.

“I can feel her squirming in there!”

“Y-you can? Um. . . Can I feel?”

Lizzy shrugged and lifted her shirt, and guided Rebecca’s hand to her abdomen. To her shock, Rebecca could feel V’s struggles.

“Oh, wow. . . I can feel her. . . Do you mind if I?”

Rebecca lowers her head and presses her ear to Lizzy’s stomach. Lizzy blushed, but didn’t stop her. Lizzy placed a hand on Rebecca’s head, pressing her softly to the soft fabric that separates her and V.

“Wow, I can actually hear her!”

Rebecca raises her head and looks Lizzy in the eyes.

“So, what are you going to do with her now?”

Lizzy thought for a moment before answering,

“I think I’m going to keep her in there for a while. Come on. Let's watch a movie.”

V felt her world rock as Lizzy stood up and started walking. She grunts in frustration with every bounce of Lizzy’s step.

Rebecca and Lizzy make themselves comfortable on the couch and start to watch a movie. It was a cheesy comedy, but neither drone laughed. Both drones kept the movie on for background noise as they pulled out their phones and started to browse social media.

V had remained still for a good few minutes after Lizzy had sat down. She waited for Lizzy to say or do anything, anything to tell her she wasn’t being forgotten. V got tired of waiting and halfway through the film, started to kick and struggle.

Lizzy noticed V’s kicks and placed her hand over her stomach, gently letting V know she wasn’t being forgotten.

V felt Lizzy’s hand over her and sighed in relief. She decided to try and talk to Lizzy and tell her she wanted out.

“Hey, Lizzy? Can you let me out now?”

Lizzy glanced at her stomach from her phone, hearing V’s voice. She let out a single snicker and smiled, shaking her head.

“In a bit, V. Relax, okay? Everything will be fine.”

Lizzy suddenly felt a sharp jab in her abdomen and doubled over, groaning in pain. V had bit Lizzy’s stomach wall. V’s saliva instantly repaired the little damage she caused, but it happened long enough to give Lizzy a little sting.

“Okay, okay. I’ll let you out of there! Just chill for a moment!”

Lizzy stood up and made her way to the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the door and locked it. She didn’t want Rebecca, or god forbid, her dad to see her spit out V.

Lizzy braced herself, leaning on the sink and slowly working her stomach and throat to squeeze and push V up. V rose higher and higher in Lizzy's throat before she deposited her in her mouth.

Lizzy grabbed a towel and spit V out into it. She began to dry V off while the smaller drone grumbled.

“Sorry about that. I guess I kept you waiting too long, huh?”

V shuddered. She was cold again. The slime and saliva coating her cooling off rapidly and making her feel colder.

“Thank robo-god Lizzy is drying me off,” V thought.

Lizzy finished drying off V and she placed the tiny drone on the corner of the counter. She crouched down to be eye level with V, watching her tail swish angrily behind her.

“So, um. . . About eating you. . .”

“Were you going to digest me?”

“What?”

Were. you. going. to. digest. Me?”

“N-no! Absolutely not! I don’t even think I can digest!”

“So why did you keep me in your tummy so long?!”

Lizzy blushed. She didn’t want to admit it, but she did enjoy having V inside her. However, Lizzy decided to tell V the truth.

“I guess I just liked having such a hot and cute girl inside my stomach.”

This time, it was V’s turn to blush. She thought that Lizzy liked it, but she didn’t think she’d actually admit it. V especially didn’t think Lizzy would call her hot or cute.

“Y-you think I’m hot? And cute?”

V and Lizzy averted their eyes while shuffling in place. Both were flustered, and both knew the other was too.

“Yeah. . . I do. . .”

“W-well um. . . I guess you’re also. . . hot and… cute. . .”

Both stood there, averting their gaze and occasionally glancing back at the other, not saying a word.

“Do you want to. . .”

“Make this official?”

Lizzy and V stared into each other's eyes, trying to see if the other was faking or wasn’t willing, but finding no unwillingness in each other’s eyes.

“Yes,” they both said at the same time.

Lizzy offered her hand for V to climb on, which the tiny disassembler accepted. V quickly climbed onto Lizzy’s hand and sat down. Lizzy lifted V to her face and stood up.

“S-so, how about a quick little. . .”

“Okay. . .”

Lizzy brought V up to her mouth but this time, instead of Lizzy’s lips parting, they puckered out, just like V’s. Lizzy planted her lips on V’s face and the drones kissed. V tried to do the same, but it was a little awkward with Lizzy’s libs engulfing V’s entire face.

The two pulled apart and looked at each other with prominent blushes on both of their faces. They were both quiet for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“Better wait for you to get big again before doing that again, huh?”

“Agreed!”

They both relaxed and looked into each other's eyes, smiling warmly. Lizzy glanced away for a second to consider her next words. She had a question for V, but she didn’t know how she would feel about it. Lizzy sighed and decided to continue with it anyway.

“So. . . What was it like… inside my stomach?”

V paused. She took on a thoughtful gaze, trying to think of a response.

“It was… nice. It was very warm and soft. . . I liked it. . .”

V was blushing in embarrassment once she finished her statement.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, it was nice having you in there. It felt like I was protecting you. I liked having you close like that. . .”

“Would you like to… do that again?” Lizzy whispered under her breath, but V could still hear.

“I um. . . Yes. . .”

Lizzy’s eyes lit up and she smiled, feeling excited. Lizzy was almost shaking in excitement while staring at V, lovingly.

“Honestly though, I’ve heard of this thing called ‘fearplay.’ Would you like to try it out?”

“Whatever floats your boat, hun.”

Lizzy felt like she was melting with how flustered she was at V’s statement. She quickly calmed herself and her tone shifted to better fit the fearplay she was about to perform.

“Okay then. Get ready V.”

Lizzy looked down at V with a wide hungry grin, showing off all her teeth.

“Well, look what we have here. A delectable little treat!”

V giggled and feigned fear.

“Oh no! A big scary monster!”

Lizzy laughed evilly and brought V closer to her jaws.

“Oh yes, I am a big scary monster! And I’m going to eat you!”

“Please don’t eat me!”

Lizzy lowers V and lifts her shirt, exposing her abdomen. She presses V against her stomach and plays a gurgle sound effect.

“I’m gonna eat you. You’re going to go in here! Can you hear it calling for you? Yes, I can tell you’re going to be delicious indeed!”

Lizzy lifts V back to her mouth, opening wide and revealing the dark warm cavern. V can see the little heart-shaped pink LED in the back of Lizzy’s mouth just under her uvula. Pink glowing saliva drips from Lizzy’s mouth, drooling on the poor helpless V.

“I’m gonna eat you, and I’m going to enjoy feeling you struggle helplessly!”

Before V can respond, Lizzy shoves her into her mouth, only V’s tail sticks out of Lizzy’s lips. Lizzy flicks her tongue out and licks the little vial and stinger before slurping it inside. Lizzy manipulates her tongue to turn V around to swallow her pegs first.

Lizzy braces and swallows hard, swallowing V in one gulp. Lizzy licks her lips and pats her stomach affectionately.

“Good luck, morsel! And squirm while you still can!”

Lizzy laughs again before calming down and shifting back to her normal self.

“How was that, V?”

“You definitely need some help! But not bad for your first try!”

Inside Lizzy’s stomach, V shuffles up to one of the stomach walls, getting comfortable in the soft warm space. V smiled, feeling safe and protected despite Lizzy’s earlier words. She knew it was just pretend, so why worry? V closed her eyes and started to enter sleep mode.

Lizzy rubs her abdomen one more time before walking out of the bathroom and joining Rebecca on the couch. The movie was still playing and Rebecca looked up from her phone, turning her head to Lizzy.

“So, how’d it go? And where’s V?”

Lizzy smiled and patted her stomach.

“Let’s just say, your plan to get us to confess our feelings for each other worked.”

[sebstanaddict]

A Winter Miracle Part 2 : Snowbound Delivery

Sebastian Stan x Reader One Shot

Summary:

After surviving the adventurous journey from Atlanta to New York, Sebastian finally arrived in New York only to find out his wife was really in labor. But her cold and icy behavior towards him raised a big question in his head. Did he do something wrong? And was she really in labor?

A/N : This story is part two of Sebastian Stan one shot titled A Winter Miracle: Flight of Frenzy. Read the first part here to understand more about this story.

Hope you enjoy this and please vote and comment. I will really appreciate it. Thank you!

Warning : some fluff and sexual references

Word count: 8.9k

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Delta Airline 228, Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport, Atlanta, USA - Jan 19th 2024 - 1.30 pm

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"Iubirea mea.. I'm having contractions.."

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Sebastian's heart seemed to stop as he read the last message from his wife Y/n. He immediately called her and waited impatiently for her to pick up.

"Excuse me, sir. Could you turn your phone off, please? We're about to take off." A stewardess came to him and reminded him.

"But my wife is in labor!" He protested.

"We know, sir." The stewardess said.

"We know." Passengers around him also chorused along with the stewardess, startling him.

"Fine." He sighed as he looked at his cellphone which had disconnected automatically because his wife hadn't answered it.

"Thank you, sir." The stewardess smiled then finally left.

He typed a quick message to his wife letting her know that he was finally on his way to New York, then he turned the airplane mode of his cellphone on.

He let out a deep sigh as he put his cellphone back in his pocket and looked out the window, praying he could still make it on time to see his baby's birth.

Even though the journey from Atlanta to New York took only two hours, it felt like the longest two hours of his life. When the plane finally touched down in New York, he was the first one to be out of the plane.

"Thank you for flying with us, sir. And hope you can still make it to see your baby's birth." The beautiful stewardess who recognized Adriana and helped her earlier smiled at him as he stepped out of the plane.

"Thank you." He smiled back and immediately walked towards the terminal.

With long and quick strides he dragged his suitcase with one hand and pulled out his cellphone with the other. He turned off the airplane mode on his cellphone and immediately called his wife.

"Honey.. please pick up." He said under his breath as he continued to walk towards the exit of the airport.

"Seb.." his wife finally picked up after five rings and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh Y/n sweetheart.. where are you? How are you? Are you still having contractions?" He asked, panic in his voice.

"I'm at the Brooklyn Hospital Center waiting for dr.Selena to arrive. Are you in New York already?" She asked.

"Oh okay. Yeah. I just landed at JFK."

"Oh thank God. What happened?"

"Long story, honey. I'll tell you later. How are you? Are you still having contractions?"

"Umm.. not really. The last one was before I left for the hospital, like an hour ago. I haven't felt it again. So.."

"Oh okay. Well it's best to still get yourself checked."

"Yeah. I know."

"Okay. Just hang in there. I'm going straight there."

"Okay."

"See you in a bit, honey."

"See you soon, Iubirea mea."

"I love you."

"I love you more." She replied and he smiled.

"Not possible." He responded and she laughed.

"Just get into a taxi and come down here quickly, Iubirea mea." She commanded.

"As you wish, my queen." He replied and she giggled.

"Bye, Iubirea mea."

"Bye, sweetheart." And they finally hung up.

Listening to her voice made him miss her so much. The last time he saw her was two weeks ago. He was supposed to get days off every week but the Thunderbolts shooting schedule towards the end was so tight that he ended up working overtime and didn't get the chance to go back to New York last week. In any case, he was glad she was okay and that it seemed he would make it to his baby's birth.

"Taxi!" He yelled as he finally made it out of the airport and immediately hailed a taxi in front of the exit of the terminal.

A cold breeze passed him and he shivered a little as he stood on the sidewalk and waited. The air felt colder than in Atlanta he thought as he continued to raise his hand up and try to catch a taxi. Thankfully an empty taxi pulled over moments later and he immediately got in.

"Where to, sir?" the taxi driver asked as he slammed the taxi door shut.

"Brooklyn Hospital Center, please." he answered and the driver nodded.

He pulled out his cellphone again as the taxi started to move and sent a message to his wife, letting her know that he was in a taxi and was heading to the hospital.

"And now for the weather forecast. New York City will have clear skies for the rest of the day but starting tonight there might be some snowfall as the temperature drops to 30 degrees. More light snowfall is expected tomorrow in the city as well as around Roxbury, Albany and Poughkeepsie. Expect the skies to clear up on Saturday evening but get ready for a snow storm in the city, Roxbury, Albany and Poughkeepsie starting Sunday with temperatures as low as 22 degrees." The sound of a female weather forecaster came out from the taxi's radio.

Snow storm? That doesn't sound good. He thought as he looked out the window. Chad's wedding was going to be held on Saturday at the Plattekill Mountains which was in Roxbury. He hoped the forecast was correct and the snow storm really happened on Sunday instead of Saturday. A wedding during a snow storm definitely doesn't sound ideal. But then again, at this point he didn't know if he was going to be able to attend it. If his wife really was in labor he definitely couldn't come to the wedding.

His mind wandered to his wife again and he remembered the last time he witnessed her giving birth to their first child, Starlene. It was incredible to witness how strong she was during the whole thing. She insisted on not using any pain relief and wanted to give birth as normal as possible. He saw how much she was in pain but she withstood it all and just used the hypnobirthing method to manage the pain. He remembered witnessing everything from when her cervical dilation was zero until it reached 10 cm and she finally pushed their baby out into the world. He wasn't sure he could be as strong as she was if the position was reversed. He remembered how painful it was to recover from his broken leg and how he couldn't function without the pain killers.

He realized how sensitive she was that she felt pain even when her cervix was not yet dilated. She sounded calm the last time he called her so maybe the contraction really was a false alarm and they could still go to Chad's wedding.

The taxi screeched to a halt all of a sudden and he heard a loud crash as his body was jolted to the front, his face almost hitting the head rest of the front passenger seat.

"Oh f**k!" The taxi driver cursed as he looked to the front. The taxi just hit another car! Steam came out of the taxi's hood and the taxi driver immediately got out of the taxi.

He sighed and shook his head in disbelief. Today felt like his honeymoon all over again with all the bad things happening to him.

He peeked to the front and saw the taxi driver talking with a man who he assumed was the driver of the car they just hit. They both looked tense and seemed to be yelling at each other.

Obviously he couldn't continue riding in the taxi so he got out and approached the taxi driver, dragging his suitcase and carrying his backpack with him.

"Don't you dare blame me for this! You stopped all of a sudden!" The taxi driver yelled.

"I was stopping because someone was jaywalking! I had to stop so I didn't run over him!" The man replied in agitation.

"Excuse me, sir." Sebastian said.

"Oh, I'm sorry about this, sir." The taxi driver turned to him and shot him an apologetic smile.

"It's okay, I'll just get another taxi." He said as he gave the taxi driver two hundred dollars.

"Wait! This is too much!" The taxi driver exclaimed out loud.

"It's fine. Take it." He said as he clapped the shoulder of the taxi driver and smiled then he turned to the other man.

"You okay, man?" he asked in concern.

"Yeah. But my car isn't." The man replied in annoyance as he gestured towards the back of his car. The bumper of the car had quite a deep dent right where the taxi had hit it.

"Here. I hope this is enough to cover the damage." He said as he pulled another two hundred dollars from his wallet and gave it to the man.

"You don't have to do this, man." The man said, raising his hands up, refusing to take the money but there was a small smile on his lips.

"Just take it, man." Sebastian insisted as he continued to extend the money to the man.

"I.. well.. okay. Thank you so much." The man smiled as he finally took the money.

"No problem." Sebastian smiled.

"Where are you heading by the way?" the man asked.

"Brooklyn Hospital Center." He replied.

"That's like three blocks away. I'm heading to Manhattan. I can take you there." the man offered.

"Oh okay. That's great! Thank you." He exclaimed in relief, glad that he didn't have to find another taxi. The weather was quite cold and he wasn't looking forward standing in the cold too long waiting for a taxi.

He followed the man into his car after saying goodbye to the taxi driver who kept thanking him. The man's name was Sean, he was from Brooklyn and he was apparently going to visit his friend's house in Manhattan.

At first he didn't think Sean recognized him. He did tell him his name was Sebastian but he didn't mention his last name. It wasn't until he arrived at Brooklyn Hospital Center that he realized Sean knew who he was.

"Thank you, Sean." He said as he extended his hand and shook Sean's hand.

"No, thank you, Bucky." Sean winked and he laughed.

He got out of the car and waved at Sean. Sean saluted him and he watched as Sean drove away. Just then his phone buzzed. His wife was calling and he immediately picked it up.

"Seb? Where are you?" Y/n's voice came out from the speaker. He noticed that she sounded annoyed.

"I'm at the hospital, honey. Just arrived at the entrance. Where are you?" He replied, wondering why she sounded annoyed.

"Oh okay. I'm on the second floor. Dr. Selena just arrived. They're calling me in."

"Okay. I'll be right there."

She hung up without replying, which made him feel even more curious. He wondered what he did wrong. She was usually like this if he did something wrong.

He sighed as he put his cellphone back in his pocket and continued walking into the lobby of the hospital. As he walked in he remembered the events several years ago when his wife was hospitalized at that hospital with Covid while pregnant with Starlene. He spent days at the hospital watching over her so he knew the hospital well. He immediately took a left turn towards the elevators.

When he got there many people were queueing to enter the elevator so he decided to take the stairs. As he went up he kept wondering what was wrong. He replayed their conversations earlier on the phone and text message but couldn't pinpoint anything that could potentially get her to feel annoyed at him other than the fact that he was late to arrive from Atlanta.

Moments later he arrived on the second floor at the Obstetrics and Gynecology Clinic and found his wife and Starlene sitting on chairs in front of dr. Selena's office.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Starlene jumped off from her chair as soon as she saw him and immediately ran towards him. He smiled wide as he let go of his suitcase, went down on his knees and embraced Starlene in his arms.

"Hello Starlene, my darling little star. I'm so happy to see you." He hugged her tight and started pecking her cheeks and face with kisses making Starlene giggle.

"Seb.." Y/n's voice entered his ear and he looked up, smiling wide at her. He expected her to smile back but she just stared at him, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Honey. Are you okay?" He stood up and went closer to her, intending to give her a hug but she stepped back, startling him.

"Are you having contractions again?" He asked.

"No. Let's just go in. Dr. Selena is waiting for us." she said, beckoning her head towards dr.Selena's office.

"Oh okay. I'm really sorry for being so late. You won't believe what happened." he said as he carried Starlene with one hand and dragged his suitcase with his other hand.

"Oh yeah. I know. You saved a child from a kidnapper didn't you?" Y/n stated.

"Yeah. I did. Guess the news travels fast." He chuckled.

"Indeed it does." She said with a hint of sarcasm, making him wonder what was going on with her but they were already in front of the doctor's office so he couldn't ask her again.

The door to the office was opened and a nurse stood in front of it.

"Hi Emily." Y/n greeted the nurse and the nurse smiled.

"Hi Y/n. Please come in." Emily said and she stepped back to allow them to come in.

"Good afternoon dr.Selena." Y/n greeted her and the doctor smiled at them.

"Ah, good afternoon Mrs and Mr Stan. It's lovely to see you both again." dr. Selena smiled warmly.

"And ooh, look who it is? Last time I saw you, you were just a tiny baby." dr. Selena smiled at Starlene who smiled shyly back at her.

"Yes, can't believe it's been almost two years now." Sebastian chuckled.

"I know. Time really flies doesn't it? Anyway, please sit down. What can I do for you today?" dr.Selena asked as they took seats in front of her.

"Umm.. first of all. I'm really sorry that we didn't come back to you before today. We decided to try water birth to deliver our second baby and we found out that we couldn't do it here." Y/n started to explain.

"Oh. That's fine Mrs.Stan. I know we don't have that facility here so it's great that you can find it somewhere else." dr. Selena smiled.

"I'm glad you think that, dr.Selena." Y/n replied.

"So, what can I do for you today?" dr.Selena asked again.

"Well. I'm currently 36 weeks pregnant. Earlier today I felt a contraction. A pressure at my lower back. At first I thought it was Braxton Hicks contraction but then it happened multiple times over the course of an hour. So, I decided to come here to get a check. The birthing center is in New Jersey and my husband was not here when the contraction happened so I decided to come here because it's closer to where we live." Y/n explained.

"Oh yes. You were all over the news Mr.Stan! Saving a kidnapped child in Atlanta huh? A real life hero." dr.Selena exclaimed and he chuckled. He glanced at Y/n and she was not smiling or laughing along, she had an icy expression on her face as she glanced back at him and that made him feel a little scared and wondering again what he did wrong.

"Anyway, have you felt any more contractions after that?" dr.Selena asked, turning her attention back to Y/n.

"No. It stopped before I came here." Y/n responded.

"Very well. Please come to the examination bed Mrs.Stan so we can check on you and the baby." dr.Selena said as she stood up and Y/n stood up too.

He watched as dr.Selena checked Y/n's cervix and did an ultrasound on her stomach. His eyes widened as he made out his baby's figure on the ultrasound screen.

"Well, you have no cervical dilation yet and it seems your baby is breech." dr.Selena said, pointing on the screen at the baby's bottom who was near the bottom of the uterus.

"Oh no. Is it still possible for the baby to turn into head first position?" Y/n asked.

"Yes, don't worry. Most babies will be positioned head first at 36-37 weeks. There are some exercises that you can do to help and some other methods you can try at home. But if by 37 weeks your baby is still breech, there's a procedure called ECV, External Cephalic Version, where we try to turn the baby from the outside." dr.Selena replied.

"Oh okay." Y/n nodded.

"Are there any risks associated with the procedure, doctor?" Sebastian asked.

"Yes, there are small risks of early onset labor, premature rupture of the membranes, minor blood loss for either the baby or the mother and fetal distress that could lead to an emergency C-section." dr.Selena replied as she put the ultrasound's transducer away. He was horrified as he listened at the risks and it seemed dr.Selena caught up on that.

"Don't worry Mr.Stan. Considering the weight of your baby and the adequate amount of amniotic fluid surrounding your baby, there is still a high chance of your baby to turn on its own naturally." dr.Selena replied as she returned to sit in front of him while Emily the nurse helped clean Y/n's stomach from the ultrasound gel.

"Okay. Thank you doctor. So, back to the main question. Is she in labor?" Sebastian asked.

"As far as I can see, no. It seemed it was Braxton Hicks contraction that you experienced Mrs.Stan." dr. Selena said, referring to the mild and irregular practice contractions that could happen during pregnancy that doesn't signify actual labor.

"Oh okay. That's a relief." Y/n finally smiled as she sat next to him and he couldn't help but smile too. But her face turned cold again as she glanced at him, his heart plummeted at the sight.

"Why is it a relief, Mrs.Stan? If you don't mind me asking?" dr.Selena asked curiously.

"Well, we're supposed to attend our friend's wedding tomorrow in The Catskills, so it's a relief that I'm not in labor yet." Y/n explained.

"I see. In any case, since your due date is near I would advise for you to have a plan in case you go into labor at your friend's wedding. Especially if you're going to spend the night in The Catskills. I mean, it's far from New Jersey." dr.Selena said.

"Yes, the venue is about two to three hours away from the birthing center." Y/n responded.

"I see. All the more reason to be prepared." dr.Selena said.

"Of course, doctor. We'll make sure to be prepared." Sebastian said.

"Good." dr.Selena smiled and she continued to advise them on what they could do at home to help turn their baby to the correct position. She mentioned some form of exercise, music and other methods. Some sounded weird but others seemed to make sense. There was one thing he thought he read somewhere that could help but he was too embarrassed to ask about it and decided to Google it later.

"I'm sorry doctor, does sex help in turning the baby?" Y/n asked, startling him. Apparently she had the same thought as he was. He glanced at her and gave her a side smile but her face remained cold making him question again what was wrong.

"Well, there is no scientific evidence that it helps. Just as there is no scientific evidence that listening to music and putting something cold and warm on your stomach helps. But as long as you don't have any vaginal bleeding, I think it's something that you can try." dr.Selena advised.

"Alright, thank you doctor." Y/n nodded.

"Remember to come and have another ultrasound next week, here or at the birthing center. If your baby is still breech, you might want to consider having ECV or C-section for delivery." dr.Selena reminded them.

"Very well, doctor. Thank you." Y/n nodded.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" dr.Selena asked.

"No, doctor. Thank you so much." Y/n responded.

"Thank you, doctor." Sebastian said.

"You're very welcome Mrs. and Mr.Stan." dr.Selena smiled.

"So.. do you think you want to try and have sex tonight?" Sebastian asked as soon as they were out of dr.Selena's office.

"Is that all you can think about?" Y/n replied, her voice a little high.

"Honey.. what's wrong? Why are you mad at me?" He finally asked the question he had been dying to ask since they met that day.

"I don't want to talk about it here. Besides, we need to get going if we want to make it to Chad's rehearsal dinner tonight." She reminded him.

"Oh, right." He said, glancing at his watch. It was almost 6 pm, they were surely going to be late as the dinner starts in an hour.

It was quite a miracle that one and a half hours later they were already in their car, heading towards Plattekill Wedding Venue in Roxbury. Sebastian had called Chad earlier explaining their situation and Chad was thankfully quite understanding. He assumed they would arrive at the venue quite late so Chad directed him to go straight to a house that he had rented in Roxbury for them to stay over that night. The wedding ceremony was going to be held the next morning at 10 am and Chad had rented several houses around the venue for all the guests to stay at.

Sebastian glanced at Y/n who was sitting in the front passenger seat, her expression still cold. He sighed and glanced at the rear view mirror. Starlene was sitting in her car seat right behind him while Lucky sat next to her. They decided to bring Lucky because they couldn't find anyone to help watch over him. All of his and her friends were going to be at the wedding and they couldn't possibly leave him alone at their apartment.

Lucky was quiet while Starlene had an iPad in her hand and was busy watching YouTube. He decided to ask Y/n again on why she was angry at him. He couldn't stand seeing her so cold to him like that.

"Honey.." he slowly said, his heart rate increased a little.

"Hmm?" She responded.

"Did I do something wrong?" He asked gently.

She sighed and didn't answer immediately.

"I can't stand seeing you so cold to me like this." He said as he slowly reached out to pick her hand up.

"I've missed you, sweetheart." He said, kissing her hand gently. He was glad she allowed him to do that but his heart plummeted as she pulled her hand away.

"I did too, Seb. Until I saw this." She said as she pulled her cellphone out and started swiping on the screen.

"You have some explaining to do." She demanded as she showed her cellphone screen to him.

"Let me pull over for a bit." He said. They were not on the highway yet and he saw a gas station up ahead. He decided to stop there. He glanced at the fuel meter and realized they also needed to refuel.

He pulled over right after the entrance to the gas station then turned towards her.

"Let me see." He said as he extended his hand to her and she gave him her cellphone.

There on the screen he could see footage of him at the Atlanta airport, talking to the airline staff who had asked for his autograph. He shook his head in disbelief. Someone had taken a video of him talking to the staff. It also showed how they went behind the counter in front of the gate and emerged minutes later to an angry Delta staff. The caption written on the video made his blood boil.

"Sebastian Stan caught cheating with an airline crew!"

"Oh my God! I can't believe this." He protested.

"Is it true?!" She asked, her voice raised.

"Honey.. of course it's not true! How could you think that? I would never cheat on you! You know that." He pleaded.

"Well then, explain to me what that is!" She demanded, gesturing towards her cellphone.

Sebastian sighed. "The airline staff was a fan. She wanted me to sign the back of her neck. I thought it would look rather weird if I did it in public. It would have raised some questions so I suggested doing it behind the counter. I didn't think anyone saw it."

"She wanted you to sign behind her neck?" She asked in disbelief.

"Yes! She wanted to get it tattooed, like that fake tattoo I got for Monday." He explained.

"That's all that happened?" She asked.

"Yes! I have her phone number. You can call her yourself if you don't believe me." He said but as soon as he said it regretted it. Y/n's eyebrows furrowed in annoyance again upon hearing him saying it.

"Why do you have her phone number?" She asked coldly.

"I.. I offered her tickets to Thunderbolts premiere and I need her number to arrange for that."

"And why did you offer her tickets to Thunderbolts premiere?" She asked, the crease on her eyebrows got even deeper.

"Because I had lied earlier to the other airline staff telling them that you were in labor but when I talked to her I.. umm.. I forgot about that lie and told her you were not in labor. So I basically bribed her so she wouldn't tell anyone else that I lied."

She stared at him for a moment with no reaction on her face, making his heart beat faster in anticipation. Then slowly her expression became more relaxed and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ooh Seb. You lied about me being in labor?" She asked, shaking her head.

"Yeah.. yeah I did." He said, grimacing.

"Maybe that's why I had the Braxton Hicks contractions. Your lie manifested." She pointed out.

"I'm sorry sweetheart. I just wanted to get here as soon as I could. At the time it seemed like a good idea to tell people that your wife is in labor in order to speed things up, you know." He explained sheepishly.

"Well, it didn't help at all, did it?" She said and he couldn't help but agree to it.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He said again as he returned her cellphone to her and placed his hands on the sides of her face.

"You know you're the only woman for me. My heart belongs only to you. Please never doubt that, sweetheart." He said as he gazed at her intently, trying to convey his love to her through his gentle gaze.

She gazed back at him and smiled slowly. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the love again in her eyes.

"I love you." He said with all his heart.

"I love you too, Iubirea mea." She smiled and he smiled back.

He stroked her cheeks gently with his thumb and slowly leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on her lips. Home. He finally felt like he was home. Butterflies flew around in his stomach as they continued to kiss and forget about everything around them.

"Daddy.. I want a kiss too." Starlene suddenly chimed up and they broke apart, laughing.

"Well, I'll give you a kiss later okay? It's hard to turn around to reach you in this position." Sebastian said, turning his head to face Starlene.

"Okay." Starlene said happily and she returned her attention back to her iPad, making them both smile.

"So. Anyway. Do you want to try to have sex tonight?" He asked as he drove the car closer to the fuel dispensers. Kissing her earlier woke up the desire in him and he couldn't help but imagine making love to her.

"Seb. I don't know. Aren't you tired? Besides, remember the last time we had sex while I was 37 weeks pregnant with her?" She asked, pointing her thumb back at Starlene.

"I remember. That was amazing sex and it brought our star out into the world." He winked and she smiled. Indeed, Starlene's birth was induced by their love making. He wasn't sure if it was a coincidence but she was right to be concerned about it.

"Exactly. I don't want to induce labor while we're away in the mountains far from the birthing center." She said and he nodded.

"Okay, honey. Maybe we can try and do it after we get back from Chad's wedding. I mean, you do want the baby to turn, right?" He asked.

"Of course! I don't want to end up having a C-section if I could." She replied.

"Okay." He nodded.

He stopped the car right next to a fuel dispenser and got out of the car. A cold breeze entered the car and he felt something cold dropped on his nose.

"Mommy, daddy, snow!" Starlene pointed out towards the sky.

"Oh yeah, it is snowing. Beautiful isn't it?" Y/n responded.

Soft snow had started to fall from the sky, specks of white layered the ground and parts of their car.

Sebastian picked up the fuel nozzle and put it into the car's fuel tank inlet. He rubbed his hands as it felt really cold and vapor had started to come out from his nose.

As he waited for the gas tank to fill he remembered the weather forecast he listened to earlier in the taxi. Looks like it was correct. It really started to snow that night.

A sudden gust of cold strong wind suddenly passed him and he shivered. Snow started to fall even harder on them. He checked the fuel meter on the fuel dispenser and decided it was enough. He immediately pulled out the fuel nozzle, returned it to its place and closed the fuel cap. He opened the door of the car and welcomed the warm breeze coming out of it as he sat down and closed the car door shut. The radio was on as he started to drive the car out of the gas station and he turned the windshield wiper on.

"And now for some updates on the weather forecast. As forecasted, New York City, New Jersey and the surrounding area are experiencing snow fall tonight. Moderate to strong snow storm is expected to arrive starting Saturday morning and will clear up by Sunday. It is highly advised to stay indoors during this time." a female weather forecaster announced on the radio.

"Snow storm tomorrow morning? That's not good." Sebastian shook his head.

"I know. Poor Chad and Madeline. Aren't their ceremony supposed to be held outdoors?" She asked.

"Yeah. Up on the mountains." He sighed.

"Do you want to give him a call?" She asked.

"Chad? No, I'm sure he's busy with the rehearsal dinner. And I'm sure they have a back up plan should a snow storm really happen." He responded.

"Okay." She nodded.

It was 8 when they finally left New York City and headed into the suburbs. Snow continued to fall throughout their journey. Coupled with the fact that it was night time, at times he found it hard to see the road. So he drove slowly and avoided going too fast.

Throughout the journey he told Y/n about his adventure earlier rescuing Adriana as well as the anxiety-inducing incident on the plane that caused the oxygen masks to drop.

"Wow. That must have been really scary." She commented.

"Yeah, it was. I kept thinking about you, Starlene and little bean." He said as he reached out to pat her bulging stomach.

"I wasn't ready to die. I didn't want to miss seeing both of my kids grow up. You know." he said as he felt her warm hand on top of his and felt her squeezing it gently.

"Well, I'm so glad you're here now, Iubirea mea." She turned to him and smiled.

"I'm so glad too, honey." He glanced at her and smiled.

"Hmm.." Y/n shifted in her seat and rubbed her stomach.

"What is it, honey?"

"I think.. wait.. yeah.. I'm having contractions again." she said and his heart seemed to stop.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah.. but it's okay. Keep going. It's probably another false alarm."

"Honey, are you sure?"

"Yeah yeah. Keep going. Let's just see how long this one lasts and how often."

"Okay. We're about two hours away from the house Chad rented. We can still make a turn and go south to Morristown." He said as he glanced at the satnav.

The birthing center they had decided to go to for the birth of their baby was at Morristown, New Jersey, southwest of New York City while Chad's wedding venue was located northwest of New York City.

"Yeah, okay. Just keep going, Iubirea mea." she said and he nodded.

The contractions came again several times in the next hour but it came sporadically. It didn't seem to hurt too much either. By the time they entered Roxbury two hours later it had completely stopped. So they concluded it was another Braxton Hicks contraction.

"Sweetheart, maybe you're just dehydrated. I read Braxton Hicks can happen because of dehydration." He said as he drove his car to the small street where the house Chad rented was located.

"Yeah, maybe. I was kind of tired too today. These two have been testing my patience to the limit." She said, pointing her thumb at the backseat and he laughed.

"They are quite a troublesome duo huh?" He commented.

"That's an understatement." she sighed and he laughed again.

"Well, I'm going to fully help you now until the baby is born and for at least three months after that. So don't worry about it, okay?" He said, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

"Yeah. Thank you, Iubirea mea." She squeezed his hand back and smiled at him.

"You're very welcome, my love." he smiled back and she blushed. He loved seeing her blush. She always looked so pretty when she did, making his heart warm.

"So, here we are." He said, turning his attention back to the street and stopped right in front of a house behind a long wooden fence. Another car was parked behind the fence right on the driveway, it was Chad's car.

He pulled out his cellphone and dialed Chad's number.

"Hey Chad. We're here." He said into his cellphone moments later.

"Okay. I'll be right out." Chad replied.

"Okay. Thanks." He nodded then hung up.

The front door of the house was opened and Chad came out, waving his hand and smiling at them. He opened the wooden fence and Sebastian drove the car into the driveway and parked next to Chad's car.

"Hey man, so glad to see you finally make it here." Chad shook his hand and gave him a brief hug as soon as he got out of the car.

"Yeah, I'm so glad too! It's been an adventure trying to get here." he chuckled.

"Oh yeah! I saw you on the news! You're a real life hero huh?" Chad commented and he just laughed.

"Come, come in, I've set up the fireplace." Chad said and he guided them all to enter the house.

The house, well, more like the cottage, was a two story cottage with wooden walls and floors. It had a rustic charm with a red and green color scheme in the interior making it feel like it was Christmas. It consisted of a warm and homey living room, well equipped kitchen, spacious bathroom with a bath and two bedrooms fit for four people.

With help from Chad, he put all their luggage in the cottage while Starlene, Y/n and Lucky went inside and settled in.

By the time they were done putting all the luggages in the cottage, snow had fallen even harder that it was more than likely a snow storm was coming.

"So, seeing how the weather is like, any change of plans for tomorrow?" Sebastian asked as they sat on the sofa in the living room.

"Yeah, we were supposed to have the ceremony in the morning up on the mountains but if it's not possible, we're just going to have the ceremony indoors in the reception building." Chad replied.

"Okay. Sounds like a good plan." He nodded.

"Yeah. I just hope the road will still be accessible. There's a shovel in the garage by the way in case you need to use it in the morning." Chad said.

"Okay. Thanks. Where are you and Madeline staying by the way?"

"Oh, we rented a large house about a quarter mile from the venue. All her family and my family are staying there." Chad replied.

"Okay. You're not staying in the same room as her are you?"

"Of course not!" Chad laughed. "You know she's a wedding planner. She knows all the dos and don'ts and all the superstitions about weddings. It's kind of frustrating at times, but I know she means well."

"Yeah. Based on my own experience, you should follow through with it." He responded, remembering the disastrous events happening during his wedding and honeymoon.

"Yeah, I'm trying my best. Anyway, it's kind of late, I better get going." Chad said and he stood up.

"Alright, see you in the morning, man. Try and get some sleep." He stood up and gave Chad a brief hug.

"Thanks, man. See you." Chad smiled and clapped his back.

Once Chad was gone he looked around and found Lucky, sleeping on a rug in front of the fireplace. He went into one of the bedrooms and found Starlene already tucked in bed, sleeping soundly. He walked closer to her, leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. She shifted a little but didn't wake up. It seemed she was really tired. He caressed her head gently and smiled, thankful he was still alive after the eventful journey from Atlanta and was able to see his daughter again.

A warm hand surrounded his waist and he was startled. He looked to the side and found Y/n, standing next to him and circling her arm around his waist.

"She looks so peaceful and innocent." She commented and he nodded as he placed his arm around her shoulder and squeezed it.

"But it all changes when she wakes up." she complained, making him laugh.

"How did she find those toilet papers?" He asked, remembering the mess Starlene and Lucky had made earlier that day in their apartment.

"Well, you know I keep the toilet papers in the lower cupboard in the bathroom. She found them." she sighed.

"She's a smart girl." he chuckled.

"Yeah. I moved them to another cupboard and locked it."

"Okay, I guess we need to inspect everything else that is within her reach. Especially things like detergent, soap, drugs and things like that and then move them somewhere she can't reach." He suggested.

"Yeah. I already did. Spent the day today doing that before the contraction happened." she replied.

"Hey, maybe that's the cause of the false contraction. You know tiredness can cause that, aside from dehydration."

"You know what, you're right. Maybe I was too tired." she sighed.

"Let's get to bed then. I'm tired too. It's been such a long day." he suggested.

"Okay." She nodded and they went to the other bedroom hand in hand.

Despite feeling tired, being in close proximity with her made his desire arise. He knew it wasn't really the longest time that they hadn't made love. They survived three months without seeing each other right before their wedding so theoretically they should survive just two weeks without seeing each other. But being close to her that night on the bed and seeing her beautiful face sleeping next to him inevitably made him turned on. She truly was the only woman who could make him feel this way.

She was sleeping on her right side facing him and he laid down on his left facing her too. He glanced down and saw her cleavage underneath her nightgown and he swallowed hard.

"Honey.. wake up." He whispered.

"Hmm.. what is it?" her eyes slowly fluttered open and she looked up at him curiously.

"I.. umm.. I'm really sorry sweetheart. I know you're tired but I'm still feeling kind of tense, if you know what I mean." He said, his eyes went downwards where he could feel himself starting to harden down there.

"Oh Seb, you know I don't want to induce labor up here in the mountains." She protested, her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

"I know.. I'm sorry. But maybe you could just.. you know." He said, blushing again as he raised his hand up and realization dawned in her.

"Please.." He said, giving her puppy dog eyes and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Fine, come here you big puppy." She said as she pulled his head by the neck and started kissing him passionately. He smiled as they kissed and soon was lost in the act of love and passion.

Before they knew it they ended up making love that night, expressing all the love and lust they always had for each other for the past twenty three years. He felt really lucky to be married to her. There was nothing else better than feeling completely in love with your significant other all the time. He knew it was something rare in the world having his fair share of heartbreaks, so he treasured it as much as he could.

"I love you so much, my love, my queen." He whispered as he held her tight after they reached the peak of pleasure together.

"I love you so much too, Iubirea mea." She whispered back and her arms held him tight.

For a moment he felt at peace as they continued to hold each other, unwilling to let the other go. Then he felt her tensed under his arms.

"D**n!" She cursed as she let go of him and held her bulging stomach.

"Sweetheart, what is it?" He asked in concern.

"I think.. I think the baby had turned." She said, her eyes scrunched up in pain.

"Oh really? That's great then." He smiled.

"Yeah. I usually feel it kick my bladder but this time I feel the kick on my ribs." She explained.

"Well, that's great. No need to do the ECV procedure then."

"Yeah. Thank God."

"Are you still in pain?"

"No, but.. d**n!" She exclaimed out loud as she held her lower back with her hand.

"Another contraction?" He asked in concern.

"Yup." She sighed as she rubbed her lower back.

"Okay. Here, let me help rub your back and we'll see what happens." He said as he reached his hand around her and started to gently rub her back.

"Thank you Iubirea mea. That feels good." She smiled.

"You're welcome, honey." He said as he kissed her forehead gently.

For the next hour the contraction kept on coming and it became even closer together. There was no doubt that Y/n could really be in labor. So they called their midwive from the birthing center in Morristown to ask for her advice. After listening to her advice, which was to monitor the contraction again within the next hour, they concluded that she could really be in labor.

"Seb, it's snowing really hard out there. Are you sure about this?" She asked as they prepared to go to Morristown.

"But honey, you could really be in labor. You need to get to the birthing center. At least to get yourself checked." He reasoned.

"Yeah.. but maybe we could at least wait until the sun is out. I mean, you could hardly see out there with all the snow."

"Sweetheart, are you sure? What if the baby comes out here before we get the chance to get to the birthing center."

"Seb, do you remember how long it took for Starlene to come out after I first felt the contraction?"

"Yeah, I remember." He sighed. It took twenty nine hours for Starlene to come out since Y/n started to feel the contraction.

"So I think it's much safer to wait until morning."

"Well. Okay. If you're sure."

"I am sure." she insisted and he could only nod.

However her feelings changed within the next three hours. The contractions came much more often and much closer together and it had become rather painful that she finally agreed to go to the birthing center.

It was 4 in the morning when they got out of the house and drove to Morristown. Starlene and Lucky were both woken up from their sleep and were forced to come because they didn't want to bother their friends and asked them to take care of Starlene and Lucky.

Unfortunately, the snow storm had started as Sebastian drove the car slowly down the mountain. On his right Y/n was grunting and trying hard to withstand the pain while in front of him fierce wind blew snow onto the front window, obscuring his view. The sun wouldn't come out until a few hours from now and he didn't dare to speed up with the dangerous condition.

"Seb! Why are you driving so slowly?!" Y/n asked in between contractions.

"Honey, I can barely see! I don't want to get us into an accident!" He protested.

"But the baby is coming, Seb!" She protested.

"I know, honey. I know. I'm driving as fast as I can, okay? Hang in there." he said as he reached out and placed his hand on her stomach.

Y/n didn't answer him and instead she resorted to using the hypnobirthing method to try and ease the pain.

"That's it, honey. That's it. You're doing great." He said, trying to calm her down even though deep down he felt extremely nervous.

"Aaarghhh.." Y/n exclaimed in pain prompting Lucky to bark and Starlene to start crying.

"Oh dear." Sebastian sighed as he listened to all of them.

"Starlene, dear, please don't cry. It's okay. Mommy is okay. Your sibling is about to be born. You should be happy." He said as he looked at the rear view mirror and saw Starlene still crying her heart out.

Among all the loud voices he suddenly heard a rumbling sound coming from above them.

"What the h**l." He looked up and his heart beat so fast in his chest as he saw the massive body of snow coming at them from above the mountain.

"Seb.. it's an avalanche!" Y/n shouted in panic.

"I know!" He said as he stepped on the gas and tried to avoid the avalanche.

The rumbling sound felt so close to him that for a split second he was sure they were all going to be buried underneath it. But he suddenly realized they were on a straight road now for several miles up ahead and decided to speed up even more.

"Hang on, honey!" He yelled as he stepped on the gas and the car sped up quickly on the road. The ground shook as the avalanche finally reached the ground behind them missing them by inches.

"That was so close!" He exclaimed as he glanced back for a second and saw the large pile of snow behind him.

"Oh no.. no.. no.." Y/n suddenly said out loud.

"What? What is it, honey?" He asked, his heart still racing after their near death experience.

"I think my water just broke!" She replied and his heart plummeted. He glanced at the satnav and saw that they were still one and a half hours away from the birthing center.

"What should we do?" He asked as his brain tried to remember anything from the birthing classes he had attended or the numerous pregnancy books and articles he had read.

"I don't know! Aaarghhh! The baby is coming, Seb! I can feel it!" She shouted, making him feel even more panicked.

"Hang in there, honey. Try to raise your feet up." He said as he remembered something he read in a pregnancy book on what to do when the water broke.

"I can't!" She protested and he realized that the space on the front passenger seat was too narrow for her to be able to raise her feet up.

"This is all your fault! Aaarghh..!" She protested as he continued to drive, not knowing what else to do.

"If only you didn't ask me to have sex earlier, I wouldn't be in labor now!" She continued angrily and he couldn't help but feel guilty.

"I'm sorry, honey. I really am." He said, glancing at her for a second and felt his heart break seeing her in so much pain.

"I'm trying to drive as fast as I can. Please hang in there, honey." He pleaded.

She didn't respond and when he glanced at her again she was reaching down, her hand trying to reach under her nightgown.

"Seb.." she said slowly.

"What?" He asked, dreading her next sentences.

"I can feel the baby's head.." she responded.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yes! I can feel his head and his hair!"

"Oh dear.." he didn't know what else to say.

"Seb, stop the car! Help me deliver the baby!" She shouted, startling him.

"But.. but.. I can't!" He protested.

"Aaaarghhh.. I'm pushing now! I can't hold it anymore!" She shouted again.

"No honey, hold it! Don't push now!"

"Seb! God d**n it! Just stop the car and help me deliver the baby!" She shouted and he had no choice but to obey.

He pulled over and stopped the car on the side of the road. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. Cold breeze hit his face as he ran to the other side of the car. He opened the back passenger door and encouraged Lucky to go to the back of the car. Then he helped Y/n to push the backrest of her seat so she could lie down.

She raised her feet up and he knelt on the ground next to her then helped pull her underwear down and that's when he saw it, the top of his baby's head. He felt dizzy as he saw it. He couldn't believe he was going to help his wife deliver their baby in the car in the middle of nowhere during a snowstorm no less!

"Seb! I'm pushing!" She exclaimed and he nodded.

"Okay.. you can do it, honey. Push!" He held her hand and encouraged her as she started to push, her eyes scrunched up in pain.

Slowly he could see the head of his baby came out even more, but when half of it came out, she stopped pushing.

"I can't.. " she complained as she tried to catch her breath.

"Okay, it's fine. Take a breather. Wait until the next round of contraction comes. Then you push again, okay? You can do it, sweetheart, I know you can." He said as he caressed the side of her face and she nodded.

"Good, that's it sweetheart, take a deep breath." He said as he stood up and kissed her forehead.

"Daddy.. is mommy okay?" Starlene chimed in and he smiled.

"Yes, your mommy is giving birth to your sibling, Starlene. Soon you'll have someone to play with." He smiled and Starlene just nodded.

"Seb! He's coming!" Y/n shouted.

"Okay, okay. Take a deep breath. That's it. Now push!" He said as he knelt again beside her and watched the head of his baby come out even more.

Several more pushes from her and their baby's head finally came out fully. He gently pulled the baby all out from her womb and the baby started crying. He immediately took off his jacket and covered him with it. Yes, their baby was indeed a baby boy.

He looked down and gently cleaned the baby's face and head with some tissues. He couldn't help but shed a tear as he continued to clean the baby. He couldn't believe they successfully delivered him out into the world amidst an unbelievable situation.

"Seb.. I want to see him." Y/n reached out her hand and he immediately put the baby in her arms.

"You did amazing, sweetheart. He's perfect." He smiled and he kissed her forehead again.

"He is. He looks just like you." She smiled as she carried the baby and gently rocked him.

"What should we name him?" She asked.

"I know the perfect name. James Adrian Stan. James after James Buchanan Barnes, the strongest man I know and Adrian after Adriana, the bravest girl I know." He smiled.

"James Adrian Stan. It's perfect." She smiled.

"Come and meet your new baby brother, Starlene." He said as he went to the backseat and took Starlene off from her car seat.

Starlene stood in the middle of the car and looked down.

"My brother." She said, extending her hand towards the baby.

"Yes, Starlene, this is Adrian. Adrian, this is Starlene." Sebastian said, smiling as he saw Starlene extended her index finger and Adrian caught it between his hands. He felt his heart warm as he witnessed their children's interaction and felt immense gratitude.

He opened his arms wide and embraced them all in his arms. Despite the extraordinary circumstances, he was elated and happy to welcome their baby boy into the world. He was sure there would be more happiness and adventures up ahead and as long as he had his perfect family with him, he was ready for whatever comes their way.

[tessatales]

The Sins of the Winter Soldier Chapter 4

Pairing: Bucky x female Reader

Warnings: brief mention of seizures! Generally uncomfortable chapter for anyone who doesn’t like shouting/feeling trapped etc. mention of retrained and bruising.

Theme: slow burn romance.

A/N: Hey! I hope you enjoy this chapter yall! I’m really enjoying writing it honestly. I walk to work and have to write ideas down for the next chapters as I walk lol. Find Chapter 1 here

Tags: @scott-loki-barnes @kandis-mom @identity2212

Chapter 4

“What the hell were you thinking Y/N!” Tony shouted, his voice reverberating around the room as he stared you down. Sinking further into your seat, you continued your vow of silence as you felt the eyes of the team study and judge you one by one.

You’d been unceremoniously woken up and practically dragged to the meeting room roughly 2 hours after you’d returned from the Pit, your eyes heavy and your brain foggy with the lack of sleep. The tiredness had quickly left you once you’d realised what you were being brought in for.

They knew.

“Tony-”

“Don’t Tony me Natasha, you’re just as pissed as I am about this whole situation so don’t pretend you’re not!” Tony interrupted, swiftly shutting the Widow down. You continued to stared at the table in front of you, your fingers fiddling with the buttons of the flannel shirt you’d fallen asleep in. When fidgeting failed to keep your breathing steady, you searched for the door, using your fight or flight instincts to somehow ground yourself.

The door was shut.

Since being rescued, you’d expressed your need to keep the doors open wherever you went. You’d been used to cells and cages for years, so like many other things, closed doors had become the enemy.

“You are a wanted asset by Hydra! So what do you do? Go and hang out with their best assassin! Honestly kid I can’t believe you’ve been so reckless!” Tony continued, the vein in his head throbbing slightly as he turned away from you to face the window.

You felt your breathing start to shallow and your hearing become tinny and muted as you began to panic. Everything in the room becoming not quite real as your anxiety began to take hold. The now familiar sensation of your power trickled up your body like a snake ready to constrict it’s pray. You stare at the door again, willing it to spring open so you didn’t feel so suffocated.

He knows I need the door open and he’s closed it. You thought as you tried to calm yourself down. The room going silent as you realised your skin had begun to shimmer with light.

“Tony stop shouting at her” Nat seemed to say, standing from the table to turn the genius around to face you. You couldn’t hear them anymore, just the roar of your blood and the crackle of your magic in your ears. But you knew his words had faltered when you watched his mouth go slack.

With a bang the door flew open. The glass groaned loudly as Bruce barged it open. You could tell he’d been running from his appearance; with his shirt askew and his breathing heavy as he held the door open wide.

“Y/N. You can leave, I’ll find you later okay?” Bruce said calmly as he steadied his breathing. His face setting into an angry scowl as he looked at Tony.

With the door open, you felt as if all three air has been put back in the room and you gulped at it greedily as you bolted for freedom. You barely looked back as you raced out of the room, your legs carrying you away without command.

Free free free free free

*Bruce POV*

“How long has the door been closed!” Nat exclaimed, waving her hand in the doors direction. Tony gaped, fishlike as he seemed to come crashing back to reality.

“I- I must of shut it without realising when I came it.” Tony said finally, falling into Y/N’s recently vacated seat as his adrenaline seemed to leave him. Bruce watched as his friend’s gaze lingered on the now empty corridor, the guilt in his eyes multiplying by the second.

“Yeah, you were so much of a hot head you forgot one of her most important rules. What did I say about talking to her about going to the Pit?” Bruce said with anger, his hands sweeping in the direction Y/N had run. Tony stared blankly for a moment, the rest of the team now looking between the two scientists.

“Tony had a right to be angry Bruce” Steve said as he came to Tony’s defence. There was no conviction in Steve’s voice as he said it, knowing he probably felt just as guilty as Tony now the situation was over.

“Not when she got him to speak.” Bruce countered, staring each team member down.

“You didn’t give me chance to tell you the full story. Just heard me say she’d been down there and boom you’re off the rails like an angry dad finding out his daughter drank for the first time.” Bruce continued, folding his arms as he looked at his fellow Avengers. They all looked away, not one of his friends able to defend their actions.

“I’m sorry” Tony said after a beat, his face ashen has he came to terms with how badly he’s messed up. Bruce scoffed, shaking his head before dropping his arms to his sides.

“It’s not me you should be apologising to. Let me go find Y/N and hopefully I can convince her that you’re not all against her.” Bruce said, striding towards the door.

“You might of shut the door Tony, but all of you sat there and judged her for something you didn’t even have the full facts too. So don’t think that he’s the only one who needs to apologise” Bruce said, turning back to his friends. As much as he loved them all, he hated having to be the level headed one. With a final look, he turned and went in search of Y/N.

*Your POV*

Bruce found you on the Pit observation deck. Your back pressed against the deck rails as you’d tucked yourself away in a corner.

When in Hydra, you’d learnt to make yourself as small as possible, at first it was to try and hide, hoping against hope you’d one day blend in with your cell walls. Afterwards it was to stop them beating you in fear of you using your power against them. You couldn’t blow them up if you were unconscious during transport.

“I’m sorry I told him you’d been down there. You’d think knowing him for years would of made me realise I should start with interesting news first, then the stuff that will piss him off” Bruce said with a small smile, coming to sit in front of you. He still looked tired from running, and you wondered to yourself why he’d done it in the first place.

Was it he feared for me, or was it the fear of me? You thought as you picked at your nails.

“I didn’t even know you were there” You replied, your face tight from crying. Bruce shrugged.

“You seemed so determined to shout at Bucky I’m not surprised you didn’t notice me.” Bruce replied, his smile broadening. You couldn’t help but give him a small smile in return.

“That’s better” Bruce said, slapping his hand against his leg in triumph.

“Now your smiling, I can tell you what Tony was meant to say to you” Bruce continued as he stood, dusting imaginary dust from his trousers before offering you a hand. You take it, wiping your face of any remaining tears as you were helped to your feet.

“And what’s that?” You ask, shoving your hands in your pyjama pockets as you began to walk beside the scientist.

“Bucky has been here nearly 8 weeks, and you’ve been seeing him…?” Bruce begins, gesturing with his hands for you to fill in the missing information. You were silent for a few steps, trying not to feel guilty as you admitted how long it had been going on.

“Every night for about 7 weeks” You admit, watching Bruce’s face for signs of disapproval. You see non, only the interested face of your friend. The lack of judgement in his eyes eased your nerve a little.

“Great, so you’ve seen him every night for a few hours each night. And you’ve already gotten him to speak.” Bruce confirms, looking at you as he clarifies. You nod, kicking your feet out as you walked.

“Right. Whereas me, Tony and the Shield team have been working with him for at least a week longer and for twice as many hours and we’ve got nothing. Not a peep.” Bruce said with an exasperated laugh.

“What are you trying to say Bruce?” You interrupt, eyeing the scientists with suspicion. His smile turned sheepish as he glanced your way.

“We want you to help up with Bucky. Be apart of his rehabilitation.” Bruce said finally, his eyes almost pleading as he looked at you.

You felt your stomach drop. The shock of the statement sending your head in a spin. You stopped walking, your feet failing you as you tried to get your head around everything.

“So I’ve just had an earful from Tony just for you to scrap it all and ask me to be apart of his rehabilitation? What about Steve? What does he think” You asked with disbelief, the frown on your face so deep you could feel it start to ache.

Bruce turned to face you, taking the final few steps backwards and he went to press the button for the lift.

“Screw Tony, his head was up his own ass just then.” Bruce said with a shrug. Although he was smiling at you, you could still see the threads of anger around his eyes. With a ding, the lift opened, and Bruce continued his backwards walk into the now open space behind him.

“And Steve will be fine with it. They all will be. I just gave them a lot to think about before coming to find you.” Bruce finished, holding his hand out to gesture for you to enter the lift. You trudged forwards, your legs feeling heavy as you approached the scientist.

Once the doors had closed, Bruce turned to you, his face sincere as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“To be honest with you Y/N. We need your help. And the team are rather bias when it comes to you because of what you went through with Hydra. They see you as the little girl who was taken. Not the adult that stands before them now.” Bruce said with conviction, his eyes never leaving yours as the lift descended.

“Why me though? Why do you think he spoke to me?” You ask finally as you tried to work through everything that had happened in the last hour. Bruce shrugged.

“Depends what you talked about. Might be he recognised you and saw you as a fellow survivor of Hydra.” Bruce mused, facing the lift doors.

“But he sees himself as a monster, not a survivor” You counter, staring at the lift numbers as they settled on their requested floor. The Pit.

“You thought that too once, remember?” Bruce said in a low voice, his eyes soft as he glanced at you. You were about to reply when shouting from behind the lift doors caught both of your attention.

“What the..?” Bruce said as the doors opened, the pair of you practically falling through the doors to see what all the commotion was about. You zeroed in on it instantly. In the centre of the Pit cell, Bucky was being retrained by several pairs of robotic arms, his arm and legs being help down as he was strapped to a chair.

“What are they doing!” You shout, looking wildly to Bruce as you both race up to the cell. Overseeing this was Shield’s head Scientist. Dr Andrew Spellman.

“Dr Spellman what the hell are you doing? I didn’t agree to any of this!” Bruce bellowed as he got to the cell. You watched as the Dr barely glanced at Bruce, his expression blank as he continued to gaze into the cell. You felt a sick twist in your stomach as you watched the Dr stare down at Bucky, as if his shouts of pain didn’t bother him.

“The book arrived while you were away Dr Banner. I decided to take action and begin the process. Please remember, I lead this team. We are just using yours and Starks facilities.” The man said very matter of factly, his face never changing from the bored expression it wore.

You looked at Bucky again, his eyes wide and scared as he looked between the three of you before looking down at the book in Dr Spellman hand.

“What book? What’s he on about Bruce?” You ask, the fear you see in Bucky eyes spiking your adrenaline. Bruce ran his hands through his hair.

“We found it when raiding the small Hydra base in Siberia. We assumed it was where he came from when we picked him up.” Bruce explained, his breathing coming out on puffs as he tried to calm himself.

“We ended up finding a book that contained what we believed were The Winter Soldiers trigger words. We deducted than if they’re said in the right order to him it’s meant to reset him to his original Winter Soldier form.” Bruce said in a flood of words. His face strained as he tried to remain himself.

“Why the hell would you bring it here!” You half shout, exasperation and anger flooding your system. You quickly calm yourself when you see a flash of green in Bruce’s eyes. Pausing a moment, Bruce bright himself back down, his posture slumping slightly as he tamed Him.

“I wanted to study it to see if there was a way to desensitise him to the words. Make them worthless. But he’s not ready for it yet!” Bruce continued, aiming the end of his sentence at Dr Spellman.

The Doctor seemed to simply ignore him. His back to the pair of you as he opened the book. It took him a few moments to find the page, his hand skimming delicately as he found what he was after. You weren’t certain, but you were almost sure you saw glee in the older man’s eyes as he read.

“Do something!” You say, pulling on Bruce’s arm. He shakes his head in defeat.

“It’s part of the shield contract, I can’t interfere and I can’t let Him out or they lock me in a cell” Bruce replies, his voice defeated. You could see the conflict in Bruce’s eyes.

“All the Avengers had to sign it before they allowed him to be transported here” Bruce continued, seemingly to read your mind as you fiddled with your communication bracelet.

“Longing” Dr Spellman began, his voice strong as he directs it into the cell. You watched in defeat as Bucky strained in his seat, the robotic arms already leaving bloody bruises where they held him.

“Rusted” Dr Spellman continued.

“S-Stop” Bucky whimpered, his voice horse and broken. Something in you broke as you watched him tremble.

“He said stop” You whisper, your voice not quite your own. The tingle of your magic was a welcome feeling as you walked towards the scientist. He kept his back turned to you, his posture never changing as you approached.

“Go away little girl, this is no concern of yours” Spellman said dismissively, waving a hand in your direction. Mimicking the man’s movements, you watched with dull recognition as the book flew from the his hand. Coming to float above your head, your conscious brain tried to focus on the little red book as it hovered above you, but your magic fought to take over.

“I’ll say it again. He said stop” You repeated, battling the fog in your brain. Noticing Bucky’s shaking hand as he fought against the robot was enough to fight the final throw of magic. You smiled with delight as you felt the warm glow of your skin as you grasped your power for the first time.

“You can’t do this! This is against the contract! I’ll have you in a cell for this” Spellman seethed, shaking his fist at you as he tried to swipe for the book. He quickly recoiled when your magic caught his flailing arms, suspending him in the air like a rag doll on a washing line.

“I don’t think so. I’m not an Avenger. You have no signature from me.” You reply with a smile, watching as the man’s face drain of colour. You could see his terror as he realised there was no document to stop you from killing him. You looked towards Bucky then, watching as his face bounced between you and the scientist. Wondering what he saw, you focused in on your own reflection.

You looked like you were submerged in water, your hair floated around you in a halo of green and blue light as is you were adrift in the sea. Your eyes reflected the same colours, shining brightly in the reflection. Your whole body seemed to vibrate and glow with the power that coursed through your limbs. You felt strong, you instilled fear.

“Instill fear. Be ruthless. That is all you are good for loveless child”

The Hydra drill Sargent words barrelled into your chest like a punch, knocking the control you had over your power. Suddenly feeling drained, you put the man down.

“You’re fired. Consider this your last day” You whisper, watching as the man scurried away with hatred in his eyes. Dr Spellman rubbed his wrists.

“This won’t stand!” Spellman said from a safe distance away, his back straight as he tried to sound in charge. You scoffed, trying your best to hold you power as you spoke.

“I used to be Hydra once too. If you come near Bucky or this book again. I might just forget everything the Avengers taught me about holding back” You say with a smile, the threat so sickly sweet you could almost taste it. Dr Spellman blanched, his mouth agape as he stomped out of the Pit.

With the threat gone, you let go, your power coursing out of you like a waterfall. It was only when your feet touched the floor that you realised you’d been hovering just above the ground.

You had just enough control of your power left to remove the robotic arms from Bucky, each arm disintegrating as you poured your final drags of power into them. With Bucky free, you let yourself collapse.

The last thing you could see was the ex assassin as he crouched beside you on the other side of the forcefield. You tried to smile at him as you felt the pain intensify, your vision finally blacking out as you began to convulse.

A/N: Chapter 5 can be found here

[soullessfawn]

In Every Life Time, I Fail

Phil was cursed a very long time ago with immortality after killing the End Dragon, with her death he was granted what she could never have before that fated day, an end to her existence. With her wings attaching themselves to his back transforming him into a feathery winged creature, half human half immortal, Phil will forever no the pain of living too long of a life.

At first he never even noticed, going back to his wife and kissing her on the cheek, pride in her eyes at the tales he spins of his battles, but soon that smile started to winkle, like any persons does as they age.

Phil loved it just the same, that smile, it only started to hurt him when he realized the winkles on his face were missing. Phil kept looking young, his wife getting older and older, until she dies, leaving him behind.

The wings weren’t enough anymore, he wanted to see that smile again, but she’s forever locked away from him. Phil would trade a hundred flights he took with her in his arms to be able to join her in the after life, but no matter who he prayed too, his fate was sealed.

Phil knew there were many names to the End Dragon, yet he never wondered why.

He never thought about how they changed form woman to man, from beast to beast, that they isolated themselves in a dimension outside of time itself at the end of the universe.

It’s only hundreds of year after when Phil looks I’m the mirror, does he realize who the Ender Dragon truly was. She was a mortal just like him once, going on a great adventure to slay the End beast and just like Phil had, she fell for it, the curse moving to her when she killed her predecessor.

Phil took to travelling the land, doing good in hopes that he’d find a way to break the curse, instead Phil found a man who could hear the voices of blood and vengeance themselves.

Techno was a weird man, the sort of man who wouldn’t ask questions as to why Phil never seemed to age, had wings that were black as the void and smelled like star dust, the sort of man Phil could find happiness in. They travelled the world together, Techno wasn’t immortal but he was far from a mortal man, always hiding his face beneath a pig mask.

Phil found this out one day, when a stray arrow got him in the chest, this was before Techno knew of his immortality, so as Phil collapsed to the ground not able to move, Techno thought he was dead.

That night Phil witnessed why people feared Technoblade and why his voices named him Blood God.

Techno was a beast just like Phil was, but instead of one born from the death of another, Techno was born from the blood of the living and suffering, as long as blood flowed through his veins, Techno could transform into a monstrous boar stronger then any man.

That night Techno’s true nature was revealed and Phil’s was, but the blonde was more focused on the black mail he now had on the other.

“You cried!” Phil would chuckle, patting a sulking Techno on the shoulder. “Awww mate, you really do care about me!”

After that, Phil found a boy with brown hair and a love for the people. Wilbur, a scrawny thing you’d think would die from the softest winds, but somehow survived the many winters Phil housed him.

Wilbur was Phil’s son in everything but blood, then came Tommy, then Tubbo. Soon enough the boys set off, all to soon if Phil had to say, but in hind sight Phil would have preferred it ended there.

L’manburg was a country he watched his own son build, then die for.

By his hand…

Phil would never forgive himself for that.

“Please!” Phil screamed into the night, the Tundra winds freezing him. He would have died out here due to the cold if it wasn’t for his curse. “Take me instead! Let Wilbur live! Let him live!”

Some of Phil’s wings faded to a dark grey and Wilbur woke up in his bed the morning after, a mad man who’s seen death and walked away from it.

After the fall of the country, Phil left, Techno hot on his heels like he had always been.

The man was older, Phil could tell, even after all these thousands of years, time was never one there side. “I think I’m going to go.” Techno, his old friend, said one night over a warm bowl of soup.

“Go where?” Phil asked, oblivious at the time. “The voices needing entertainment—“

“Not like that.” Techno cut him off, humming. The man was looking out the window, hair tied up in a loose bun, colour freckled with grey. His face was wrinkled, his knees ached, Techno hasn’t fought in a battle since L’manburg times. “I’m going to visit your wife.”

Then it clicked, yet by this time death was meaningless to Phil. Everyone but this one, it seemed. “It’s that time already?” Phil whispered.

Techno nodded, smiling. “I’m not gone yet, old man, I still have a few more years.”

A couple of years later, Phil was invited to an island resort. The QSMP, whatever that was.

He should ah e known his bad luck would follow him.

Phil met new people, reunited with Wilbur, Quackity, Tubbo, Niki…

He became a dad to two lovely kids named Chayanne and Tallulah, it was perfect.

Until they went missing.

“Please come back…” Phil cries, eyes gazing out of the birdcage he was trapped inside. “Before I outlive you both while stuck in here.”

[unholygengar]

Winter's Blood & Dragon Fire

Chapter One: A Long journey

The very north of Westeros is a realm where the world seems to slumber beneath an endless blanket of snow and ice. Here, the air is a biting chill, carrying with it the whispers of ancient legends and the howls of wolves echoing through the night. The land is stark and unforgiving, a vast expanse where the snow-covered hills and dark forests stretch out as far as the eye can see, interrupted only by the occasional frozen river or barren, rocky outcrop.

In this desolate and beautiful landscape stands Winterfell, the ancestral seat of House Stark. Winterfell is a fortress as old as time itself, its great stone walls rising up from the white landscape like the unyielding mountains in the distance. The castle is a sprawling complex of towers, walls, and courtyards, each part of it touched by the harsh breath of the North. Its high walls are crowned with frost, and the massive gates, forged of ancient oak and iron, seem to groan with the weight of centuries.

The heart of Winterfell is the Great Keep, a towering edifice of gray stone that dominates the skyline. From its battlements, one can see the vast stretch of the Wolfswood to the west, where direwolves still roam, their eyes gleaming in the twilight. To the east lies the wide expanse of the Kingsroad, winding its way southward through the endless snow towards the warmer, softer lands beyond the Neck.

The Godswood within Winterfell's walls is a sacred place, a haven of ancient trees with branches heavy with snow. At its center stands a weirwood tree, its bark pale as bone, and its leaves a dark red, like the blood of old gods. The face carved into its trunk gazes out with solemn eyes, watching over the quiet grove where the Stark family has prayed for countless generations.

As the cold winds howl around Winterfell, carrying the scent of pine and the promise of winter, the people within its walls go about their lives with a resilience born of necessity. The blacksmith’s hammer rings out in the cold air, the scent of baking bread wafts from the kitchens, and the sound of laughter echoes through the stone halls. The Stark motto, "Winter is Coming," is not just a warning but a way of life, a constant reminder of the harshness of their world and the strength required to survive it.

Sitting beneath the weirwood tree sat the younger sister of Cregan Stark, eyes white as snow and a mind far away from her own body. Atop the great fortress that was Winterfell a bird of prey soared, eyes the same matching white as that of the girl sat against the ancient tree. Humans, in their ceaseless pursuit of power and conquest, found the power to carry swords and armor, their feet bound to the earth while their hearts yearn for what true freedom might feel like. Lyria often watches the birds with envy, their wings cutting through the air with effortless grace, embodying the freedom she craves. Yet, she is grateful beyond measure for the gift of skinchanging, a rare blessing from the Gods that allows her spirit to soar. Each time she melds her consciousness with that of a raven, she savors every moment, feeling the rush of wind beneath her wings and the exhilarating vastness of the world below. In these stolen moments of flight, Lyria truly feels alive, unburdened by the chains of the mortal realm.

A voice of which felt close, yet so far away came to join Lyira’s trail of thoughts, but it was not before the call of her name that her eyes returned to their normal, cool shade of gray. Behind her stood Cregan, her brother, Lord of WInterfell and Warden of The North, his eyes locked with hers, his mouth moving without her being able to make out a single word of what he said. Blinking a few times in hopes of getting rid of the ringing in her ears and the blurriness of her vision, Lyria’s brother knelt made way to kneel before her, his hand coming up to wipe the crimson liquid that escaped her nose.

“How long were you gone, sister?” A question Cregan had repeated for a third time before his sister made sense of what had been asked, her hands found their way to his arms, gripping them lightly as he went on to help her to her feet. When she looked around, it became clear to her that the sun had risen, the sky no longer bleeding gold— she had been gone for a good while without realizing. 

“The sky had yet to look blue when I came outside…” She paused for a moment, taking in her surroundings as she now stood with her feet on the ground once more. Cregan went to link their arms, guiding his sister out from the Godswood, slowly making their way towards the courtyard. “Are we to depart soon? The Gods seem to have granted us fine weather for our long journey– not a single cloud to be seen in the sky.” Lord Stark looked at his sister, her mind still far away even though she walked by his side. It was the usual outcome of her skinchanging— ever since it first happened. It took a while for Lyria to find herself again once her spirit returned into her body, as if it took a while for her to adjust to everything when she no longer saw the world through the eyes of whatever creature she came to possess. 

Cregan turned to his sister Lyria as they arrived in the frost-kissed courtyard, his hands finding and gripping her elbows with a mixture of urgency and tenderness. “We were to leave not long ago, but you were nowhere to be found.” He paused, his eyes locking onto hers with a stern but caring gaze. “I wish for you to stay here, Lyria. The South is no place for a wolf—”

Lyria’s calm fury interrupted him, her eyes flashing with a mix of longing and defiance. “I want to come—no, I need to. I wish to see dragons, Cregan. To feel winds melting my skin instead of the ones that nip at my soul. The North is my home, but you are my pack. You cannot make me stay while you dine with all the Lords and Ladies of the Kingdom.”

Her voice, steady yet fervent, cut through the chill of the air. Cregan’s gaze softened, torn between the protective instincts of a brother and the understanding of a sibling who knows too well the pull of one's heart. All Cregan could do was nod. Knowing his sister as he did, he realized there was no arguing with her resolute and wild spirit. With one final, reluctant squeeze of her elbows, he released her, though his gaze lingered on hers, filled with both resignation and affection. "Aye, then you shall dine alongside all the Lords and Ladies, lie your eyes upon the biggest of beasts, and see all that the South of the Neck has to offer."

Lyria’s grin widened, a flash of triumph in her eyes. With a playful jab to her brother’s shoulder, she spun on her heel and hurried towards her black stallion, her heart brimming with excitement. “Then we shall waste no more time! To the South we ride!” she declared, her voice ringing with a blend of determination and exhilaration as she mounted her horse and set off towards the awaiting journey.

The journey south was a grueling one, a week of relentless travel that saw Lyria and her companions spending a cumulative forty hours on horseback. The Northern travelers, accustomed to the biting chill and the steady rhythm of the snowy landscape, found themselves weary from the relentless pace and the varying terrain of the South. Despite making numerous stops to rest and resupply, the weariness of the road weighed heavily upon them.

As they traversed the Kingsroad, Lyria marveled at the changing scenery. The stark beauty of the North gave way to the lush and varied landscapes of the South. Passing the Neck, the looming silhouettes of the Twins came into view, their stone towers rising above the misty waters of the river. The sound of rushing rivers filled the air as they neared Harrenhal, its massive, crumbling structure a stark contrast to the vibrant life of the surrounding lands. 

The Gods Eye sparkled like a jewel in the early morning sun, its serene surface reflecting the soft light and adding a touch of magic to their journey. They pressed on past Sow’s Horn, its name evoking images of the ancient and the mythical, and Hayford Castle, with its imposing walls and storied past.

Finally, after days of arduous travel and the subtle shift of seasons, the travelers were greeted by the sight of King’s Landing. The sprawling city, nestled against the bay, shimmered in the distance, a vibrant and bustling hub of life. Its towering Red Keep and the bustling streets below seemed almost to beckon, a far cry from the cold, unyielding landscape of the North. As the travelers approached, the city’s grandeur and the promise of new experiences provided a welcome contrast to the fatigue of their long journey.

— — —

Lyria, Cregan, and their small assembly of Northerners made their way through the bustling streets of King’s Landing, the city alive with the sounds and scents of the capital. The Great Sept loomed magnificently to their left, its towering spires catching the midday sun, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. In the distance, the Dragonpit’s dome was a stark reminder of the powerful beast it housed below.

As they continued, the Red Keep came into view, a stunning fortress of red stone that dominated the skyline. Its high walls and grand towers were both imposing and awe-inspiring, a testament to the might and majesty of House Targaryen. The Northerners, weary yet resolute, felt a sense of anticipation and respect as they approached the grand entrance leading into the castle grounds.

Upon arrival, they were greeted by an honor guard of Kingsguards, their white cloaks billowing slightly in the gentle breeze, and their polished armor gleaming. Beyond them stood the royal family, a sight both regal and formidable. King Viserys, though frail and in ill health, was seated in his grand chair, exuding an air of dignified authority. Behind him stood Ser Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, his expression stern and watchful. To the king’s right stood his sons, Aegon II with a proud stance and Aemond with a piercing gaze. 

On Viserys’ left, Queen Alicent stood with a composed grace, her presence commanding and serene. Next to her was the princess Helaena, her delicate features reflecting both beauty and melancholy. The Targaryen family stood proud and united, a powerful symbol of the realm’s might.

Lyria, Cregan, and their companions dismounted their steeds, the journey’s fatigue momentarily forgotten in the face of such grandeur. They slowly climbed the steps leading up to the royals, their movements measured and respectful. As they ascended, the Northerners felt the weight of tradition and history pressing upon them, aware of the significance of this meeting between the North and the Iron Throne. The air was thick with anticipation as they prepared to pay their respects and present themselves to the rulers of Westeros.

All of the guests lowered their heads in respect for the king and his family, though it didn’t go unnoticed by the Stark’s that a certain member of the family was nowhere to be seen— the heir, princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.

As the lord of Winterfell and his sister approached the king, Cregan was the first to offer his greetings. Their hands met in a firm yet gentle handshake, a silent exchange of respect and acknowledgment. While King Viserys welcomed the young wolf lord, his gaze shifted to Lyria, whose soft features did not go unnoticed by his Grace. 

Cregan then moved on to greet the remaining members of the royal family, each gesture marked by the formal courtesy befitting his station. Meanwhile, Lyria stepped forward, her steps measured and graceful. She curtsied with deep respect before the king, who reached out and gently grasped her hand.

"Lady Stark, your brother failed to mention your presence, albeit I am honored to be graced with your northern beauty," King Viserys said, his voice warm and welcoming.

Lyria offered the elder man a small smile, holding her head high despite barely standing taller than the seated king. "You honor me, Your Grace. We sent a raven, though it seems that we reached your blessed home before it got the chance to inform you of my joining."

The king’s face lit up with a genuine smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he shook his head. "Nonsense, my dear. Your presence is that of a pleasant surprise."

His hand continued to engulf hers, a gesture both reassuring and kind. Lyria felt a sense of warmth emanate from the frail yet resilient king, a stark contrast to the icy winds of her homeland. As she stood there, hand in hand with the Realm's protector, she could not help but feel a sense of profound connection and mutual respect. This moment, amidst the grandeur of the Red Keep and the presence of the powerful Targaryen family, was a testament to the strength and unity of Westeros, a tapestry woven from the diverse threads of its noble houses.

Once the king released Lyria’s hand, she moved on to greet Aegon. A mischievous smirk played on his lips, widening as the snow-white beauty bowed her head to him. In a swift motion, his hands found hers, bringing her knuckles to his lips for a long, rather un-kingly kiss. His violet eyes locked onto hers as their hands parted, his gaze that of a predator eyeing its next meal.

“The Realm has failed to mention that northern ladies are that of beauty, Lady Stark. The view before me is sent by the heavens.”

Surely Aegon thought his flirtatious words would elicit a blush, but Lyria saw the lustful gleam in his eyes, the gaze of a man longing to see what lay beneath the layers of her dress. She smiled—a smile that didn’t reach her eyes—as she replied.

“You flatter me, prince, though I assure you that I am simply human and not a gift sent from the heavens above.”

Aegon chuckled at her response, a small snicker escaping him, followed by a nod. “You could have fooled me, my lady. I look forward to seeing more of you in the coming days.”

Another kiss was placed on her knuckle before she moved to greet the second son of the king: Aemond Targaryen, the one-eyed prince. He stood stoic, taller than his older brother, his well-tended hair resting against the black leather he wore. Lyria nodded at him, her eyes fixed on his uncovered violet eye. This time, she spoke first, her hands intertwined in front of her.

“There are widespread tales of your skills with the blade, my prince. It would be an honor to witness them with my own eyes.”

Aemond’s lips curled slightly, a glimmer of confidence shining in his eye at the compliment. He bowed, his gaze never leaving hers as he extended his hand. Lyria placed her hand in his, and he bestowed a chaste kiss upon her pale knuckles before straightening.

“Your words honor me, Lady Wolf. I suppose it would be a pleasure to demonstrate my honed skills—if the celebrations of my father’s nameday spare us such pleasantries.”

Lyria nodded, her eyes meeting his with a mix of respect and curiosity, the formalities of the greeting charged with unspoken understanding and anticipation.

After greeting the king and princes, Lyria made her way to the queen. Alicent Hightower was young—much younger than her husband. Her auburn hair was neatly braided away from her face, falling freely down her back. A stunning green gown hugged her body, leaves embroidered with gold thread stretching from the collar, wrapping around her waist. As Lyria stood before the gracefully composed woman, she was struck by the realization that Alicent embodied beauty itself. Dropping into a small curtsy, she was met with a forced, yet tender smile from the queen.

“Words do you no justice, my queen. You are as graceful as they come,” Lyria said earnestly. She had never seen such beauty until her eyes slipped to the princess beside the queen. Their exchange was brief, only a few words passing between them before Lyria continued on to Helaena.

Just as Lyria was about to bow her head to the princess, she felt soft, cool hands embrace her face. She met Helaena’s gaze, shocked by the sudden touch of her gentle hands. In the princess’s eyes, Lyria found something familiar—a faraway look, though her physical form was present.

“The wolf can fly…” Helaena’s voice was soft, enigmatic.

Lyria was momentarily confused, aware of the many eyes upon them. Despite not fully understanding Helaena’s words, she nodded, her hands finding and holding the ones on her face. She made no effort to remove the princess’s hands, allowing the white-haired girl to maintain the tender contact.

“The wolf can fly, princess,” Lyria affirmed.

With Lyria’s words, it seemed Helaena returned to her senses, her eyes studying the northern girl she had embraced. It wasn’t often that others responded to her cryptic sayings, yet this stranger from a distant land looked at her with understanding and respect. Helaena smiled, her thumbs softly stroking Lyria’s warm skin. The two stood in comfortable silence, as if the world around them ceased to exist, until the queen beside them cleared her throat.

Helaena’s hands left Lyria’s face, the ghost of her touch lingering on her pale cheeks as the princess took a step back, her eyes still on Lyria, mirroring the curiosity of the Targaryen family. “A wolf with wings is but a rare thing—” She paused, as if the rest of her sentence had slipped her mind. “I’d like to show you the Keep, if you’d let me? The Godswood would be a great start to your stay with us, though I’m sure ours is nothing compared to what your home has to offer.”

Before Alicent or Viserys could stop their daughter, Helaena swiftly led the brunette girl away from the gathering and towards the Red Keep’s own Godswood. The two girls moved in tandem, the world around them a blur as they delved into the serene sanctuary, a silent understanding forming between them.

Arriving in the godswood, Lyria realized that the princess had been right—while the royal godswood was beautiful, it was nothing compared to that of Winterfell. The white bark of the weirwood trees did not blend into the soft summer snow as they did in the North, nor did the crimson leaves provide the striking contrast she was accustomed to. The weirwood tree here stood tall but felt small compared to the ancient giant she was used to praying by, though the somber face carved into its trunk remained much the same, a silent witness to their presence.

The two girls came to a stop before the mighty tree, its roots sprawling out like the veins of the land itself. They sat down by its base, settling into a comfortable silence. Helaena’s eyes roamed the ground as if searching for something hidden in the soil, while Lyria found her small dagger fastened at her hip. Unsheathing the blade, she brought it to her thumb and sliced the skin just deep enough to draw blood. The small drop of crimson, resembling a ruby, gleamed before it met the bark of the weirwood, which seemed to absorb the offering from the northern lady.

The two sat in silence, a sense of peace enveloping them. Though strangers, their brief introduction had unfolded an unspoken understanding between them. The sacred space, with its ancient trees and whispering leaves, provided a sanctuary where words were unnecessary. They were connected by something deeper, something primal and ancient.

Eventually, Helaena broke the pleasant silence. A spider crawled in the palm of her hand as she turned to face Lyria, whose thumb still rested against the tree. “I must ask… How does a wolf fly? Such creatures have no wings, yet your eyes have seen the world from above. How so?”

Lyria looked at the princess, her gaze thoughtful, not sure how the princess knew this information. She took a deep breath, feeling the connection between her and the weirwood tree, the life force that seemed to pulse through its roots and into her soul.

“Wolves may not have wings, but there are other ways to soar,” Lyria began softly. “In the North, some are gifted with the ability to skinchange—to enter the minds of animals and see the world through their eyes. I am one of those few. Through the eyes of a raven, I have soared above the trees, felt the wind beneath my wings, and seen the world from the sky. In the body of a wolf, I roamed the woods and lived freely and in the skin of a bear I experienced the mind of a beast and the power that comes with it. ” She paused briefly, but continued as if knowing that she could trust the princess with such a heavy secret. “I know the South views our ways as wrong, some going so far as to call it black magic, but it is far from truth. I swear it by my Old Gods, for they granted me this gift.”

Helaena’s eyes widened slightly, her fascination evident as she listened. The spider in her hand crawled leisurely, oblivious to the weight of the conversation. “A raven,” she mused, her voice almost a whisper. “How extraordinary. To see the world from such a vantage point… it must be freeing.”

“It is, though I believe you have felt that freedom too.” Lyria agreed, a small smile playing on her lips. “It’s a gift, one I cherish deeply. It allows me to escape, to see beyond the confines of my own body and experience the world in a way few others can.”

The princess smiled, a serene expression settling on her face. “Perhaps we are more alike than I thought, Lady Stark. We both see the world differently, in ways others might not understand.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them faded, leaving only the two of them and the ancient tree that bore witness to their bond. The silence returned, but it was no longer empty; it was filled with mutual respect and the promise of a deepening friendship.

Now it was Lyria who continued their conversation. She removed her thumb from the weirwood and moved closer to the princess, her eyes captivated by the massive red spider in Helaena’s hands.

"That is one big spider. We only have small ones in the North, and it’s rare to be graced with their presence."

Helaena nodded, turning her hands over and over as the spider crawled along her skin. There was no fear in her eyes, only a fondness for the small, eight-legged creature. "I can't imagine the North having many insects... Word says it’s terribly cold in those lands, that snow never leaves the ground." She paused, letting the spider go and watching as it crawled its way up the massive tree they sat under. "Though that is just a word of tongue. I'm sure a true Northerner like yourself would be the right person to ask about such things."

Lyria found her dagger again, a soft chuckle escaping her lips as she twirled the blade between her fingers with ease. "Aye, while winter is everlasting, we are blessed with bare ground for a while, albeit very short. Summer snow is not as heavy, nor the winds as harsh. My home might not be as colorful as yours, princess, but the North is beautiful in its own way."

Helaena reached forward, grabbing Lyria's unoccupied hand in hers. Normally, the princess was quite reserved, tensing at physical contact—even from her own mother. But seated under the weirwood tree, observed by the gods, the two girls had quickly come to understand each other. In all earnestness, Lyria had been the first person not to judge her, not to question her odd sayings, nor look at her as if she had said something that should never be spoken. Their friendship, though new, was profound. The Targaryen princess had never been around anyone like the girl wolf seated with her.

Lyria looked at Helaena, her expression softening. "The North may be harsh and unforgiving, but it has its own kind of beauty. The silence of the snow, the strength of the trees, the resilience of its people. It’s a land that teaches you to be strong, to endure. And in that, there is a beauty unlike any other."

Helaena’s eyes shimmered with understanding. "I would like to see it someday. To feel the cold you speak of, to witness the stark beauty of your home."

Lyria smiled, a genuine warmth spreading across her face. "And I would love to show it to you. The godswood at Winterfell is ancient, the heart tree standing tall and proud. It’s a place of reverence and peace, much like this one, but with a unique northern charm."

The princess squeezed Lyria’s hand gently. "You are different, Lyria. In a good way. You see things others don’t, like me, and you don’t shy away from what you find."

"And you, Helaena," Lyria replied, her voice soft, "are one of the most genuine souls I’ve ever met. Your insight, your way of seeing the world—it’s a gift."

The two girls shared a moment of silence, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing second. The godswood around them seemed to embrace their newfound friendship, the ancient trees bearing silent witness to the connection forming beneath their branches.

Before the two girls could continue their genuine conversation, footsteps approached, stopping a few feet away from them. The girls looked up to meet the stoic gaze of the one-eyed prince, Aemond Targaryen. His right hand firmly gripped the sword at his hip, while his left hand rested behind his back. He studied the scene before him: his sister’s hands playing with the Northerner’s fingers, both of them looking utterly peaceful in each other’s company. A small hum emitted from his throat, his eyes darting between the young ladies before settling on his sister, though she didn’t meet his gaze.

"The King is requesting your presence. You will have time to show the Lady Wolf our home in due course, sister. As of now, though, the day is growing late, and I’m sure our guest would be pleased to clean up before the welcome feast."

Though Aemond had finished speaking, he remained standing in front of them, waiting to be their escort into the castle. Lyria was the first to stand, dusting herself off before lending a hand to the princess and helping her to her feet. As the two of them closed in on Aemond, he offered his arms to the girls—like a proper prince ought to do.

Lyria placed her hand on his elbow, accepting his escort. However, Helaena chose to intertwine her arm with Lyria's instead of her brother’s. Aemond wouldn’t go so far as to say he was offended, but the fact that Helaena preferred to link arms with someone who was initially a stranger instead of her own brother did something to weaken his ego.

As they walked towards the castle, the air between them was filled with an unspoken tension. The courtyard was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, casting long shadows that danced on the cobblestone path. Aemond’s tall, imposing figure contrasted sharply with the delicate forms of Lyria and Helaena. The serene atmosphere of the godswood was left behind as they moved closer to the grandeur of the Red Keep.

Lyria couldn’t help but feel a pang of empathy for Aemond. She sensed the hurt behind his stoic demeanor, the subtle wound inflicted by his sister’s preference for her company over his. But she also understood Helaena’s choice. There was a unique bond forming between the two girls, one that transcended the formalities and expectations of court life.

As they approached the grand entrance of the castle, Aemond spoke again, his voice a touch softer than before. "Lady Stark, I hope you find your accommodations to your liking. Should you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask."

Lyria nodded, offering him a gentle smile. "Thank you, Prince Aemond. Your hospitality is greatly appreciated."

Helaena, still holding Lyria’s arm, glanced at her brother with a look that held a mixture of apology and defiance. "We shall make haste, brother. But know that Lyria’s company is a welcomed change for me. She understands things others do not."

Aemond’s gaze softened slightly, a flicker of understanding passing through his eye, despite not fully gripping what his sister meant.. "Very well, sister. But do remember, the feast awaits."

Helaena and Lyria walked slowly through the grand corridors of the Red Keep, the warm glow of torches casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. As they reached Lyria’s chamber, Helaena paused and gave her new friend a gentle smile.

"This is your room, Lady Stark. I hope you find it comfortable. I’ll see you at the feast."

Lyria returned the smile, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Princess. I’ll be there shortly."

Helaena nodded, her hand lingering on Lyria’s arm for a moment before she turned and walked away, her footsteps soft and echoing down the corridor.

Lyria entered her room, taking in the opulent surroundings. A large bathtub had been brought in, steam rising from the hot water. She sighed in relief, eager to wash away the dust and weariness of their journey. She carefully removed her travel-stained clothes, folding them neatly before stepping into the tub. The hot water enveloped her, soothing her sore muscles. She took her time, scrubbing her skin clean and letting the warmth relax her.

Once she felt sufficiently refreshed, she stepped out of the tub and dried herself with a soft towel. She found a small bottle of cinnamon-scented oil on the vanity and applied a few drops behind her ears, enjoying the comforting aroma. She then began to work on her hair, her fingers deftly weaving it into an intricate triple braid that joined into one at the back. Satisfied with her appearance, she slipped into a stunning white gown. The shimmering silver thread and stormy gray accents complemented her eyes perfectly, and the white fox fur that draped over her shoulders added a touch of northern elegance.

Ready to join the feast, Lyria left her room and met her brother, Cregan, in the hallway. The two of them walked in silence, the bond between them unspoken but strong. Cregan, in his dark shades of gray and black, with a mighty fur cloak hanging over his broad shoulders, looked every bit the formidable Lord of Winterfell. In contrast, Lyria shone in her white gown, a vision of northern grace and beauty.

As they entered the grand hall, they were met with the sight of lords and ladies already taking their seats. The room was filled with the hum of conversation and the clinking of goblets. Helaena spotted the siblings and waved in their direction before returning to her conversation.

The Starks made their way to their seats, their contrasting attires drawing the eyes of many. Once seated, goblets were filled with wine—a more fruity and refined beverage than what they were used to in the North. Lyria took a sip, savoring the unfamiliar taste, while Cregan merely nodded his approval, his gaze sweeping over the assembled guests with a warrior’s vigilance.

As they settled in, the feast began in earnest, the tables laden with an array of sumptuous dishes. Lyria and Cregan exchanged a glance, both feeling the weight of their northern heritage amidst the southern opulence. They were wolves in a dragon’s den, but they held their heads high, ready to face whatever the evening—and the days to come—might bring.

The feast in the grand hall of the Red Keep was a dazzling affair. Lords and ladies engaged in lively conversation, the clinking of goblets and laughter filling the air. Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell, was frequently engaged in conversation with various nobles, discussing matters of the realm, the North, and their mutual interests. Despite the attention, his gaze frequently darted to his sister, Lyria, to ensure her well-being.

Lyria, however, sat mostly in silence. She was a stark contrast to the animated conversations around her. Her quiet demeanor was alarming to Cregan. He knew his sister to be a wild spirit, full of life and opinions. Her silence in such a setting was unusual and disconcerting.

As the feast progressed, and dessert was served, the atmosphere became more relaxed. Most men were deep in their cups of wine, their tongues loosened by the drink. It was then that Lyria, with a determined glint in her eye, rose from her seat. The creaking of her chair drew attention, and soon all eyes were upon her. 

Ignoring the stares, Lyria focused on the royal family. Helaena, sensing Lyria's intent, gave a subtle nod of encouragement. Taking a deep breath, Lyria addressed the king. "My King!" Her voice rang out, silencing the hall. Cregan watched her, confused and worried.

"If I may be so bold and ask," Lyria continued, "it is said that Old Valyria was a place of great things, such as magic. Is that something you believe in, Your Grace?"

At this, Otto and Alicent Hightower, seated beside the king, shot her sharp looks of disapproval. Cregan’s grip on his sister’s wrist tightened, a silent plea for her to reconsider. But Viserys, intrigued by the boldness of the young lady, smiled warmly. He seemed oblivious to the discomfort of his wife and the Hand.

"Well, yes, Lady Lyria," Viserys responded, taking a sip of his wine. "The Targaryens are from a place of old magic. If there are such creatures as dragons, it would be foolish not to believe that things akin exist, no? Any particular reason for these questions?"

Cregan's grip grew more intense, but Lyria met his gaze with a soft yet determined look. In a whisper meant only for her brother, she said, "The South paints us as heathens, brother. We should not be shamed for sharing blood with the First Men. Our home was built atop creations made by the Children of the Forest. Our faith is no laughing matter, and we should not be a jest for our beliefs—no matter how old."

Returning her attention to the king, a mischievous grin played on Lyria’s lips. "It would do me great honor, Your Grace, to show you the gift I’ve been granted by the Old Gods... though I’d much prefer less of an audience for such a matter. Only if it pleases you, my king."

Viserys leaned back in his chair, clearly fascinated by the young Stark's boldness. "Such confidence and conviction in your beliefs, Lady Lyria. Very well, I shall see this gift of yours. Ser Otto, Alicent, and my sons will accompany us. Let us adjourn to a more private setting."

As the king rose, the hall buzzed with whispers and curious glances. Cregan released his grip on Lyria, his expression a mix of concern and pride. He followed the royal family, along with his sister, to a more secluded part of the castle where Lyria would reveal her extraordinary gift.

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A/N: This story will be cross-published here and on AO3, eventually Wattpad, if you see it anywhere else, please report it. On another note- I'd love to hear thoughts on this chapter, as well as feedback, but be kind! I don't normally write and usually my ideas remain that of stories told to my friend @thee-horny-thicky