#road to castle attack | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chvoswxtch · 1 year ago

Text

desire

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: now that the defenders of freedom had been caught, what's next for you and frank?

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of alcohol & grief, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.1k

a/n: the one you've all been waiting for. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Considering the fact that your place was still an active crime scene and Homeland still needed to track down the rest of Steven’s dipshit goons to ensure there would be no more threats or attacks, Dinah wanted to take you to a safe house until the investigation was finished.

Frank, however, was not having any of that shit.

It was admittedly an ego boost watching Dinah and Frank lock into a heated staring contest while arguing about who got protective custody of you, and definitely amusing. But eventually, she gave into the stubborn brick wall that was Frank Castle, threw her hands up in total exasperation that was followed by a colorful string of adjectives thrown his way, and that was how you found yourself once again on the road with Frank.

Initially when you noticed that Frank was driving in the direction outside of the city, perplexment weaved between your brows, but he quickly set your curiosity straight as soon as he noticed it blanketing your features. He didn’t even give you a chance to voice your inquisitions before explaining that he was taking you somewhere safe that no one else knew about.

That knowledge filled you with a bubbling sense of giddiness because getting to stay with Frank at his apartment was one thing, but getting to stay with him in a place that sounded private and secluded? Yeah, that was more than okay with you.

The longer Frank drove, the more drastic the scenery changed, passing by in a blurry film reel on the other side of the passenger window. The clamorous and bustling streets of the concrete city faded away slowly and soon settled into quiet black asphalt that shrank to one lane on either side of the road. The millions of inhabitants of New York City seemed to melt away into the horizon in the rear view mirror of Frank’s truck, leaving the two of you the only souls for miles. The trees became more and more dense, creating opaque patches of foliage in golden ochre, rusty ginger, and spiced cranberry. In that moment, sitting in the passenger seat was the most at peace you had felt in almost seven months since the whole had nightmare began, and a lot of that peace had everything to do with the man in the driver’s seat absentmindedly tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the Bruce Springsteen CD currently playing.

After about two hours of driving and light conversation, Frank turned off the asphalt road onto an unmarked dirt path, and you turned your head to stare over at him in half-hearted suspicion while lifting a brow in silent questioning.

“You know, if you kept me alive this long just to murder me in the middle of the woods, that’s some serious dedication.”

Without missing a beat, Frank let out a dry chuckle.

“If I was gonna kill ya, I woulda started switchin’ your coffee out with decaf a long time ago.”

It was always a struggle not to laugh at Frank’s dry sense of humor. You tried not to give him the satisfaction of your amusement, but you found yourself giving in more and more lately. Letting out an overly dramatic sharp gasp while staring at him in exaggerated faux horror, you reached over and lightly smacked your palm against his firm bicep.

“That is the most evil form of torture I have ever heard.”

Frank snickered deviantly, clearly pleased with himself, and the relaxed grin on his soft lips was stretched so wide that his lifted cheeks caused his eyes to crinkle in delight. For a moment, your breath caught in your throat at the sight. It never failed to render you speechless just how much lighter Frank looked when he smiled. Happiness looked so achingly beautiful on him. Every time you silently observed him, you always learned something new about Frank. He had deep set creases softly feathering around the edges of his eye sockets, proof that Frank had once been a man that smiled and laughed as easily as he breathed. You sincerely hoped that version of him that he seemed to keep buried so deeply was steadily rising back to the surface, and that these ephemeral glimpses you got would soon become permanent.

The gilded stream of midday light cast a velvet glow on Frank’s softened features, leaving you so completely entranced that you hadn’t even noticed the lack of motion when he parked his truck.

“We’re here.”

The gruff alert of Frank’s voice induced you out of your bewitchment, and it was then that you suddenly noticed the quaint one story cabin nestled a few feet away in front of you.

It was composed of wood in a rich shade of burnt umber, and topped with a forest green downward v-shaped roof. There were a few worn steps leading up to an enclosed porch that appeared to snugly wrap around the cabin entirely, and two large square glass windows on either side of the front door that was painted the same shade of green as the roof. The curtains were drawn so you couldn’t see inside, but from the outside it looked incredibly cozy.

When you got out of the car, you noticed there wasn’t anything around at all but thick woods, and you silently wondered just how far back they went. There didn’t appear to be anyone or anything around for miles, and the only sounds you could hear were birds chirping and the worn wooden steps creaking under the weight of Frank’s heavy black boots.

“Wow. Billy offers one hell of a retirement plan.”

Following up the steps behind Frank’s large frame, a glimpse of black flashed in your peripheral vision, and you noticed there were security cameras installed on the left and right corners of the roof, along with what looked to be several motion detector lights along the top perimeter. Knowing Frank, there were probably far more around the entire cabin, and probably even hidden in the trees as well.

Frank paused for a moment at your comment, his dark brown eyes glossing over your presence at his right before taking in the sight of his own cabin like it was the first time he had ever seen it.

“Nah, s’just somethin’ I never got ‘round to finishin’ ‘til a few months ago. Almost forgot ‘bout it. It was s’posed to be a surprise project for my-”

The second Frank cut himself off, his body language changed entirely. His relaxed posture instantly stiffened, causing him to stand rigidly at his full height while his shoulders squared to their broadened width. The former calm expression he wore turned to stone right before your very eyes and he clenched his jaw in such a harsh line you could hear his teeth grind. Frank was intensely staring directly through the small six panel window that was in the top middle of the front door, like there was something on the other side that only he could see.

Before you could react, he abruptly unlocked the front door and pushed it open with his left hand, clearing his throat and vaguely gesturing with his index finger before turning away to descend the stairs without giving you so much as a second glance.

“I’ll uh get the bags. Room at the end of the hall on the right is yours.”

The haunted look in Frank’s eyes reminded you of the night of the gala when he had told you that he had lost his wife. It was almost the exact same one. The thought briefly crossed your mind that he meant to say it had been a surprise project for her, but you quickly put it to rest. Frank clearly didn’t want to elaborate on the subject, and you knew better than to push. The best thing to do was give him his space and let him come to you if he wanted to. Still, it didn’t stop the journalist in you from running wild with questions, and also filling you with a slight sense of guilt that you were about to share a space with Frank that was meant to be something sacred and special between him and his wife.

»»———　　———««

The room at the end of the hall ended up being the master bedroom, to which you protested heavily against taking, but ultimately ended up being an argument you lost because Frank played dirty and distracted you with the delectable scent of homemade pasta sauce and a wine glass that was filled to the brim with bubbly pink.

While you sat at the kitchen island and sipped at your now half empty glass, you studied Frank with a narrowed gaze. A part of you was annoyed with him and yourself at how easily you fell into the trap he set. He knew you well enough to know Italian food was your weakness and that you were more compliant after being fed. But a bigger part of you was completely mesmerized by the way he gracefully navigated the open kitchen.

There was a furrow of concentration nestled between his thick brows while he precisely measured specific spices to add to the saucepan that was layered with ruby sauce that he had garnished with freshly cut oregano and parsley. On the far back left burner was a boiling pot of penne pasta, and in front of that was a skillet of ground meat Frank had added diced onion and garlic to along with several other seasonings. He shifted between each pan with a quiet elegance that captivated you, and simultaneously irritated you, because there didn’t seem to be a damn thing the man couldn’t do.

“So you’ve been a secret chef this entire time and didn’t tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Rolling your eyes at his quick retort, you cocked your head to the side slightly and focused on the way his back muscles strained against the fabric of the black henley he wore.

“I’m pretty sure I would’ve had an easier time getting nuclear launch codes from the Russian government than ever getting a straight answer out of you.”

Frank snorted at that, throwing you a quick humored glance over his broad shoulder.

“Hey, I give you answers.”

“Oh yeah, after nearly five months of stonewalling me. I didn’t even know what you did before becoming a bodyguard until you told me, what, a week and a half ago?”

Frank lifted one of his thick brows while turning his body slightly towards you.

“You never read my personnel file?”

Glancing down at your wine glass, you clicked your tongue against the inside of your cheek and gave a subtle shake of your head.

“Homeland wouldn’t let me have it.”

“And you let that stop you?”

There was a hint of tease in Frank’s deep voice, and you lifted your gaze to squint at him in annoyance noticing the cheeky smirk curling at the edge of his mouth.

“I’m a journalist, Frank. Not a hacker.”

“Ah, don’t give me that shit. That may be your job but it ain’t all you are. Besides, you’re a goddamn force to be reckoned with and a pain in the ass when you don’t get your way.”

A mischievous smirk slipped across your lips while you brought your glass up to your mouth, looking at Frank innocently over the rim.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Frank’s eyes seemed to wander over your face, stopping at the way the rim of the glass settled against your bottom lip, and when he met your eyes again, they were subtly darkened with that look that sent a tingle down your spine.

He silently stared at you for only a second longer before giving a slight nod, and you caught the wry smile slipping over his lips as he turned back to face the stove.

“Whatever ya say, sweetheart.”

You weren’t exactly sure what the source was of the heat you currently felt blooming in your cheeks: the wine you had consumed, the aroma of the fresh chili pepper Frank had just added to the sauce, or the way he had just looked at you.

Attempting to redirect your impure thoughts before the liquid courage could make you bold enough to voice them, you looked for something to distract yourself with. With your chin in your palm, you glanced down at the rouge tinted liquid and lazily swished it around in your wine glass. A thought quickly popped into your head that caused you to let out a soft snort.

“I didn’t take you as a rosé guy.”

Frank adjusted the heat on the sauce to a low simmer before turning to face you fully, wiping his large hands off on a sage green rag before tossing it over his right shoulder. He took a step over towards the island you were sitting at and wrapped his long fingers around his own wine glass, which looked ludicrously tiny in his hand, and took a long purposeful swig before licking his lips and arching one of his dark brows.

“What? This is good shit.”

Reaching for the half empty bottle sitting on the island, you let out a soft laugh and went in for a refill. The relaxing effects of the wine had clearly already reached your brain, and before it could catch up with your mouth, you blurted out your next question like it couldn’t possibly ruin the mood.

“Was this your wife’s favorite?”

Frank didn’t clam up like you had expected given his behavior earlier. Instead, he glanced down at the glass in his hand for a moment before shaking his head with a tiny smile gracing the curve of his lips.

“Nah, friend of mine’s wife got me into this stuff.”

Frank took a moment to stare down into the glass, as if there was a fond memory appearing in the bubbles. Clearing his throat, he took another large swig of the wine and set the nearly empty glass down on the island.

“She uh…she liked white wine.”

For some reason, Frank’s casual admission sent a flush of velour warmth through you. Whatever barrier that had prevented Frank from speaking freely earlier seemed to be somewhat dismantled, and this was the first time he had ever spoken voluntarily about his wife that hadn’t left a heavy fog of grief lingering over either of you. A tender smile stretched across your lips as you lifted your glass up in a silent toast.

“My kinda woman. What was her favorite?”

Frank leaned over the island on his elbows, holding the delicate glass in both of his strong hands. The amber lighting in the kitchen made his eyes look like swirls of melted chocolate, and you resisted the urge to lean in closer when he finally looked at you with a faint smile tugging at the left edge of his mouth.

“Pinot Grigio.”

A huge grin stretched across your lips at his answer, and you shook your head faintly as you light heartedly pointed your right index finger towards Frank and lifted your glass to your lips.

“Oh I bet I could’ve easily converted her to a sauvignon blanc girl. There’s this brand from Chile that makes the best blanc, and she would’ve loved it.”

For a moment Frank simply observed you in silent fondness. When you set your glass down, his eyes flickered to his own, and he made a quiet noise of recognition in his throat before speaking quietly.

“She woulda liked you.”

That single sentiment held more weight and significant meaning to you than anything anyone else had ever said to you. A tight lump formed in your throat as those words echoed in your head, and you felt the overwhelming urge to make this intimate moment just as special for Frank, but with the alcohol in your system you couldn’t convey your feelings as eloquently.

“My mom would’ve annoyed you.”

Frank immediately started howling with laughter, turning his head to look at you with squinted eyes in incredulous amusement.

“What?”

“I mean she would have loved you, no doubt about that, but she probably would’ve annoyed you. And definitely hit on you. She was like me, only she had way less of a filter and absolutely zero shame. I think my being nosey and stubborn was genetic, but she took it to a whole other level. Did you know I used to be really quiet?”

Frank’s thick brows lifted in surprise, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond. The rosé was acting as a truth serum, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rambling.

“I was. I was very quiet, and extremely cautious, compliments of my careless mother. She wasn’t really careless, I mean she loved me, she was just a bit reckless, but not in a bad way. Like not a I-need-therapy-for-the-rest-of-my-life way but more of a she-had-me-at-sixteen-and-we-grew-up-together way. You know that I was such a bookworm that she practically begged me to be rebellious and hang out with someone other than her or the local librarian? And she’s the whole reason I wanted to go to Columbia, because she wanted to go to Columbia, but you can’t go to Columbia with a baby and no high school degree, and I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, and I probably should have shut up ten minutes ago, but anyway my mom would’ve liked you but definitely annoyed you more than me.”

Those newfound beloved crinkles were once again decorating Frank’s eyes as he chuckled heartily at your rambling. He downed the rest of his own wine before setting the empty glass down, flashing you a crooked grin as he loosely gestured in your direction with his chin.

“I’m sure I woulda liked Lorelai just as much as I do you.”

There was a skip in your heart’s rhythm, partly because he finally admitted that he liked you as a person, but more so when you realized that Frank remembered your mother’s name. It tugged at your heartstrings, because it was such a simple gesture, but also because it reminded you just how much you missed your mother.

“I forget sometimes.”

Frank tilted his head to the side slightly when your soft voice settled in the space between the two of you, and his playful grin slowly vanished as he watched while you stared blankly down into your glass, clearly lost in your own thoughts.

“Forget what?”

“That she’s gone.”

There was a slight tremble to your voice as you looked up at Frank with a miniscule sad smile. The empathy in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and you had to look away to keep your composure from crumbling. Turning your head to the left, you took a moment to observe the layout and minimalist decor in the kitchen while letting out a shaky exhale.

“Sometimes I go to call her…just…on my way home from work, you know? Just to talk to her, hear the latest small town gossip, tell her about the latest coffee shop I’ve found that she absolutely has to try when she comes to visit next. There’s even been times I’ve left her voicemails. I’ll be so wrapped up in something and wanna vent to her, and then I’ll start to wonder why she hasn’t called back yet, and then it’ll just…hit me.”

Frank stayed quiet while he listened sympathetically, and the entire cabin was silent apart from the quiet sizzling coming from the stovetop until you gently spoke up again.

“Do you forget too?”

Finally looking over at Frank again, you watched as he lighty dragged his palm down the lower half of his face. While he glanced down at the smooth mahogany countertop, he clasped his large hands together while still resting on his elbows.

“I don’t forget she’s gone, but I uh…I’ve started forgettin’ things. I can’t remember what her perfume smelled like…or what her favorite song was. I can hear it sometimes, ya’know? Every now and then I get these…bits and pieces. Sometimes I can hear her hummin’ it in the kitchen, but it ain’t long enough to remember what song it was, ya’know? Everythin’ started gettin’ fuzzy…and I remember more things I wanna forget than things I actually wanna remember.”

There was a stretch of silence where neither of you spoke. Eventually, Frank straightened up and turned his back to you to walk back over towards the stove. Even though you knew it might not be the right time to ask, there was a question that had been burning in the back of your mind since the night of the gala.

“Frank?”

He hummed quietly in response, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder as he gave you his full attention.

“What was her name?”

The softness of your question clearly caught him off guard, and you could see the hesitation lingering in Frank’s eyes. Worried that you had crossed the line and completely ruined the moment, you were about to hastily backtrack and tell him that he didn’t have to answer when Frank let out a deep exhale through his large nose, touching his index and middle finger over his chest most likely where his wedding band sat beneath his shirt.

“Maria.”

A minuscule smile covered the edge of your mouth as you tilted your head slightly to the side and tried out her name on your tongue.

“Maria. Is this her recipe?”

Frank's eyes flickered over towards the pans and the pot of boiling pasta that were still on the stove. After a moment, he nodded his head and turned his attention back to you with a tender look in his eyes.

“Penne all'Arrabbiata con Manzo. Her grandmother was Sicilian, just like my parents were. She made this every time I came home from a tour.”

The significance and sentiment behind the recipe Frank was cooking made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your ribcage. Quickly topping off Frank’s empty glass with more wine, you carefully got down from the bar stool that you were sitting on and rounded the island to make your way over to Frank. As you offered him the half full glass of wine, Frank’s eyes flickered curiously between it and your own gaze while his large hand reached out to wrap his fingers around the glass. Smiling softly up at him, you lifted your own glass slightly in the air.

“Well then, to Maria.”

There was a sudden luminescence to Frank’s warm brown eyes, but you didn’t get a chance to study it long before he nodded slightly and his lips stretched faintly into a tiny smile as he delicately clinked his glass against yours and repeated your toast in a more delicate volume of his deep voice.

“To Maria.”

»»———　　———««

“You’re fired.”

Hearty laughter boomed from deep within Frank’s chest and echoed over the crackling firewood currently blazing. He adjusted his position on the couch a few inches away from you, his features highlighted due to the radiant flames cascading from the fireplace in a contorted expression of skepticism and entertainment.

“What? Why?”

“I have known you for seven months, Castle. Seven. Months. And I’m just now finding out you have the culinary skills of a five star chef. Unacceptable. Unforgivable. I’m calling Billy first thing in the morning.”

You couldn’t hardly get through your own sentence without bursting into a fit of laughter, and Frank was in no better shape as he threw his head back against the couch and clutched at his chest with his hand that wasn’t holding his third glass of wine. There were nearly three empty bottles between the two of you forgotten on the dining table, and this was the most loose you had ever seen Frank. Maybe you should get him tipsy more often.

“You can’t fire me.”

“And why not?”

“Cause I ain’t assigned to you no more, brat.”

While Frank teased you nonchalantly as he sipped at his glass and watched the flames dance across the firewood, his words instantly sobered you up. He was right. The Defenders of Freedom had been caught, Steven was facing trial, and there was no reason for Frank to stick around anymore. It was a revelation you had been trying to ignore for the past twenty-four hours. A wave of uncertainty crashed over you in that moment. What would happen between you and Frank? When would he get assigned to someone else? Would that take him far away from you? How long could you stay in this little bubble outside reality?

Glancing down at the wounds in your palm that had steadily begun to heal, you lightly traced your thumb over the raised irritated edges as a thought suddenly flashed across your mind.

“I never thanked you.”

Even though your voice was barely above a whisper, Frank caught it, and he turned his head to look at you intently with slightly confused brows.

“For what?”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you shook your head faintly before looking back at Frank with subtle remorse.

“For everything you’ve done for me. For saving my life, more than once, and-”

Frank instantly brushed off your gratitude with a shake of his own head, reaching over to place his glass of wine on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“It’s my job-”

“No. Your job was to keep me safe, but you did so much more than that. You dealt with all of my shit, fixed every problem I created, and even when Homeland pulled you away, you still showed up for me. Frank, I would be dead if it wasn’t for you. You saved me from those guys at the bar, you saved me from Cavella and Walker, and…you’re still saving me, even now. I could’ve gone to a safe house with Dinah, but you brought me here, even though I’m not your problem anymore-”

Frank reached for your glass of wine and firmly set it on the coffee table, effectively catching your attention while he started almost directly into your soul with a serious expression.

“Hey, you have never been a problem. Ever. You got that?”

There were so many emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface for seven months that you hadn’t been processing, and now they seemed to be rising to a level you could no longer ignore. The verity in Frank’s voice nearly had tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and you just wanted answers. Why did he care so much? Why was he still protecting you? Why were you here right now?

“Frank…you could’ve walked away. There were so many times you could’ve walked away. Why…why did you stay?”

A substantial weight felt like it had finally been lifted off your chest as you asked the one question that had been lingering in your bones for weeks now. Although that weight was replaced by a lead filled sense of dread while you waited with anxious anticipation for a response, knowing was better than not knowing.

Frank’s deep brown eyes stared so fiercely into your own, that you felt vulnerably stripped bare despite the clothing covering your body. When he reached his left hand over to place on your jean clad thigh, he grasped it firmly and leaned in just close enough so that you couldn’t escape the enrapture of his gaze.

“I want you to listen to me, right now. I’m always gonna keep you safe, you got that? Job or no job.”

The intensity burning in his eyes and the dropped octave of his rough voice nearly stunned you silent. Your lips parted slightly as if to speak, but your fogged brain struggled to form a coherent sentence. This was the closest you had been to Frank since you had climbed onto his lap in his truck, and you were fighting so hard to not let history repeat itself. But that look…that one goddamn look you could never decipher was roaring fervently in his gaze again, and you were going absolutely mad not knowing what it meant.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself leaning in closer, staring deeply into Frank’s warm brown eyes with a pleading look reflected in your own desperate stare. You wanted to know why. You needed to know why. And you were begging Frank for a confession that wasn’t encrypted.

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine to protect.”

The possessiveness that dripped from Frank’s low voice had you abruptly clenching your thighs together, trapping his thick fingers between your weakened knees. If he minded the entrapment at all, he didn’t show it. The blaze of the fireplace was no longer what had the temperature steadily rising within your body, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Frank’s vigorous and unwavering stare. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and even though you had a million questions clamoring through your brain, all you could manage to get out in a hoarse whisper was one you needed confirmation on.

“I am?”

Frank retracted his large hand from your thigh, raising it up slowly to carefully grab your face. A few of his long fingers curled around the back of your neck while his index and middle finger rested along the underside of your jaw, and his thumb pressed lightly against your chin. His heated gaze dropped to your lips momentarily before flickering back up to meet your eyes, and that fire in them was burning bright enough for God herself to see.

“You’re goddamn right.”

Without another word, Frank pulled you in for a searing kiss, pressing his soft lips against yours tentatively but with enough passion to make his answer crystal clear. A delicate noise of surprise sounded in the back of your throat, and for a moment you nearly stopped breathing. If that first kiss in Frank’s truck was a rare comet bursting across the sky, this one felt like a supernova erupting in a kaleidoscope of colors and stardust exploding across the expanse of the universe.

Even as he retracted his lips just a bit to stare deeply into your eyes to gauge your reaction, his hand gently cradling your face kept you firmly in place. All you could do was stare at Frank in complete stupefaction. Your lips were fervently tingling and your body felt like it had been struck by lightning. Frank’s eyes were searching yours for an answer he seemed to desperately need judging by the way his other hand lightly squeezed at your waist.

“If I’m crossin’ a line, you gotta tell me now. Cause I can’t go back, sweetheart.”

The tender emotion entwined within his words nearly made it sound like Frank was begging for your answer, and suddenly it all clicked. You could never figure it out before, but now as you stared at him in complete wonder and paid close attention to his display of vulnerability, you were finally able to decode that cryptic look in Frank’s eyes.

Desire.

“I don’t wanna go back.”

That breathless confession was all Frank needed, and he seemed to groan in relief when you surged forward to capture his lips with renewed vigor. Frank was so much more engaged in this kiss, and you took that as a good sign to give in to every single temptation. Before you could even think about climbing onto his lap, Frank was three steps ahead of you, and his large hands were firmly gripping onto your hips and effortlessly pulling you over to straddle his hips. Frank’s hands were everywhere; kneading at your denim covered thighs, gripping tightly onto your waist, carding his fingers through your hair and grasping at the back of your head to keep you as close as physically possible.

You cupped his face firmly in your hands and seductively swiped your tongue along his bottom lip begging for entrance, causing a low growl to resonate from deep within Frank’s chest, and his large hands suddenly squeezed your ass tightly through your jeans while you moaned when his taste met your tongue. The taste of Frank was much sharper this time, and you felt far more intoxicated by him than the three bottles of wine the two of you had consumed together.

Even with your chest pressed firmly against his own, it felt like you couldn’t physically be close enough. You wanted to be entirely consumed by Frank, to completely melt into the warmth of his skin and breathe his essence into your lungs. The synchronization of your lips and tongues molding together was impeccable, and the world outside ceased to exist while the two of you began to unravel one another.

An overwhelming surge of impatience had you nearly shredding his black henley with your nails while you fervently shoved it up his toned chest, eagerly caressing the scarred canvas of his tan skin with your fingertips like you had been daydreaming about doing since that night in the motel. He didn’t hesitate to teasingly brush his thumbs along the sliver of exposed skin above your hips before pushing your shirt up your waist and over your head. While you tore it off quickly and carelessly discarded it behind you, Frank dove in to attach his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, dragging his warm and wet tongue along the column of it before gently biting down on the juncture above your collarbone.

A soft moan slipped past your lips and you instinctively rocked your hips against Frank’s lap, coaxing a deep grunt from his chest. He left a searing trail of kisses along your shoulder, the rough pads of his fingers softly tugging the straps of your bra down your arms before splaying both of his large hands against your lower back to pull you further against his own chest. Frank nuzzled his large nose along your neck and whispered huskily into your ear.

“This alright?”

“Yes.”

Unfiltered lust clouded your vision a deep shade of crimson, and you blindly clawed at Frank’s belt while he continued his blazing path of kisses along your jawline and down your neck towards your chest. All of a sudden, his large hands clasped around your wrists gently to halt your movements, and he pulled back a bit to stare deeply into your eyes while panting slightly.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t no rush.”

“Frank, please.”

The desperate plea that sounded from your lips seemed to ignite a brand new fire within Frank, and your consent shredded that last strand of hesitation that was holding him back. He placed his large hands against your ass and lifted you effortlessly in the air, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. Frank easily navigated around the coffee table and slowly knelt down on the fluffy cream colored rug in front of the fireplace, carefully laying you down onto your back. This time when you tugged the leather of his belt away from the buckle, he didn’t stop you, and instead his own deft fingers made lightning work in ridding you of your own jeans.

Slipping one of his hands underneath your back, he easily unhooked your bra with his thumb and index finger, and the second your bare chest was exposed to him, Frank firmly grasped one of your breasts in his calloused hand and took your peaked nipple into his mouth. Your lips parted widely feeling the jolt of pleasure that had you arching your back slightly when he swirled his warm tongue around the sensitive and stiff bud while gently sinking his teeth into the flesh of your breast.

The sensation elicited a series of breathless whimpers to leave your mouth, and Frank grunted lowly in response as you rolled your hips upwards in search of friction, feeling the heavy heat of his hardened cock against your lower stomach through the thin cotton of his briefs. It was a marvel you hadn’t flooded the cabin with how turned on you currently were, and this wasn’t even scratching the surface of what Frank was going to do to you. You gripped at his bulging biceps, his broad shoulders, dark tufts of his disheveled hair, anything you could get your hands on to keep him close to you.

Frank began to slowly descend your body, placing his hands firmly on your sides while leaving warm and wet open mouthed kisses down your stomach, even licking a teasing bold stripe above your belly button. The sight alone nearly made your eyes roll into the back of your head and caused you to whine softly, knowing exactly where his next destination was. But as much as you wanted to have Frank’s mouth on you, and God did you want it, you weren’t sure you could stand another second of not knowing what it felt like to have him inside you.

After he slipped your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, you gave his messy cropped curls a gentle tug to get his attention before he could spread your thighs and settle his broad shoulders between the apex of them. Frank glanced up to meet your gaze, his warm brown eyes nearly as black as the coffee he’d consumed this morning due to how wide his pupils were blown open. The hunger eclipsing them caused you to shudder, and you took a mental image of the sight of him nearly naked between your thighs staring at you like a ravenous wolf salivating at the sight of a vulnerable lamb.

“Please, Frank…I need you. I wanna feel you now…please.”

The two of you seemed to be stuck in the same conundrum, caught in tandem between wanting to savor the moment you had both waited so long for, and also wanting to give into the impulses of your magnetizing desire.

As much as you could see in his hungry expression that he wanted to take his time, to devour you slowly and worship every inch of you, the distress dripping from your breathless plea triggered his own raging need, and he silently obeyed while moving upwards again to hover over your body, capturing your lips in a deeply passionate kiss while you ardently pushed his briefs down his hips and off completely. Frank settled between your hips, displacing his heavy body weight by supporting himself on his forearms that were locked on either side of your head. You were completely caged in and at his mercy beneath him, but that was exactly where you wanted to be.

Frank searched your gaze ardently once again for any sign of hesitation, his dark eyes roaming up and down your face before his tongue quickly darted out to wet his lips.

“We can call it here, ya’know? No hard feelin’s. I can-”

Reaching a hand up to gently hold the side of his face, you placed your thumb against his plump lips to cut off the velvet timbre of his whisper.

“Frank, I want this. I want you. But if you don’t-”

“I do. You got no idea how much I do. But…I want it to be right, yeah?”

A gentle smile covered your lips while gazing up at him in complete adoration.

“Doesn’t this feel right?”

Frank’s eyes flickered between your own and he subtly nodded his head, glancing down at your lips briefly before looking directly into your eyes again.

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a sensual kiss, and the second he nudged the blunt head of his thick cock within your entrance, a sharp gasp flew past your lips and it felt like all the wind had been knocked right out of your lungs. He groaned quietly and nuzzled his large nose against the column of your neck, firmly grasping at your thigh and pulling your leg up and around his waist while he pushed in deeper slowly, one inch at a time.

While your nails instinctively dug fiercely into the muscle of his shoulders, no doubt leaving deep maroon crescent shaped indentations behind, Frank paused for a moment and snaked his hand down between your bodies, lightly brushing the rough pad of his thumb in lazy circles over your clit to help your body relax. You had been soaked through your panties from the moment your lips met, but Frank’s girth wasn’t one your walls had accommodated before, and he did his best to ease the sting of the burning stretch with stimulated pleasure.

“Frank…”

As soon as your hips connected completely and Frank was fully nestled within your tight heat, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head, and your jaw became completely unhinged as you let out a smooth legato moan. You felt Frank’s body tense above you while he buried his face into your neck, letting out a quiet hiss as he breathed out a shaky deep exhale.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, sweetheart.”

“Oh my God…Frank-”

“I know baby, I know. Gimme a second.”

You don’t know how long it was before Frank finally started moving his hips. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. All you knew was that you had never felt so full and so complete in your entire life.

Letting out a quiet shudder, Frank slowly retracted his hips just a bit before cresting against you once again like a gentle tide. He removed his face from your neck so he could stare down into your eyes to watch your face, and you gazed up at him with wide-eyed passion and marvel. You brought your other leg up to also wrap around his waist and wrapped your arms securely around his neck, trapping Frank against your body just as much as you were beneath his.

Frank reached between your chests with his right hand and gripped his wedding band between his thumb and index finger, tossing it and the chain over his back so there was nothing separating the two of you, just his heated skin pressed firmly against yours. Bringing your hands upwards, your trembling fingers weaved through his hair, tugging somewhat roughly at the messy cropped dark strands on top of his head when he began to languidly increase his pace.

It was like you couldn’t speak. Your mouth hung open while you stared up into Frank’s warm brown eyes that seemed to gleam from the amber glow of the fire, but nothing came out except echoes of the pleasure he handcrafted. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, watching in awe as his plump lips parted from panting heavily, his eyes becoming hooded from streams of ecstasy racing through his bloodstream. He gazed down into your eyes in complete adoration, gently stroking his index and middle finger down your cheekbone delicately as you stared up at him with parted lips and pleading eyes.

Frank brought his left hand up to gently brush your hair away from your forehead, cradling the back of your head while his right one came up once again to gently grab your face. Although this time, his index finger rested along your jawline while his thumb and other fingers laced around your throat carefully, which nearly sent you into a frenzy. He leaned in to teasingly slip his tongue into your mouth, kissing you with such ferocity as if he craved the very breath in your lungs.

Frank vacillated his hips repeatedly against your own in a steady rhythm, but with a meticulous precision that revealed new depths with your body even you weren’t aware of. Every sensual thrust wound that tense coil within you tighter and tighter, and it was only a matter of time before you erupted into gratified pieces of confetti. Reaching a shaky hand up to grip onto the back of his neck, your fingertips vibrated as they brushed over the close shaven hair on the back of his head, and you pulled him down forcefully for another deeply passionate kiss.

Only when your lungs began to burn due to lack of oxygen did you finally break apart. He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, gazing so deeply into your eyes you swore he could see right into your soul. You stared back up into Frank’s eyes as yours became glossy due to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure you were experiencing. His coarse grunts and reverberating groans echoing in your ears had your toes curling, and as your mouth hung open in silent begging, you nodded swiftly with an expression that let Frank know you felt it too.

“Please…please…”

That familiar bubble of euphoria was starting to expand wider and wider within your lower belly and you weren’t sure how much longer you had before it burst. The way Frank fit perfectly within your body was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, and you were stuck on the cusp of never wanting it to end, but also wanting to see just how far it could go. You had never been with someone that seemed to be so finely in tune with your body, or that genuinely cared about your satisfaction, but Frank was treating your pussy as if he had designed it specifically for himself. The realization of knowing you wouldn’t have to finish yourself off later like you had to with your exes was a welcomed relief, but not knowing what brink of indulgence Frank was about to catapult you over was exhilarating.

“Frank…Frank…”

“S’alright, baby, I know. Let me have it, yeah? C’mon baby, let go for me.”

A soft whimper slipped past your lips. You were so close, and God you wanted so badly to jump head first into the free fall. But a tiny part of you felt frustrated because you wanted to witness Frank free fall too. You wanted to see him let go, hear his praises of your name, and be coherent enough to feel Frank lose himself.

But you would have to wait your turn, because Frank was sending you barreling towards the edge of an orgasm with every punctual and powerful snap of his hips, and you had no choice but to surrender to the heat of his body enveloping yours in a cocoon of pure warmth and safety.

Frank grabbed both of your smaller hands and laced your fingers together, giving them a tight squeeze as a tangible reminder he was right there with you. He pinned them gently on the soft rug above your head, his pace becoming a bit sloppy as he began to lose his own composure.

“Look at me, sweetheart. Let me see them pretty eyes, c’mon. Let me see ‘em.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open until you physically couldn’t, wanting to witness every second of Frank’s own impending climax contorting his features as he fought to control himself until you were ready to let go.

“There ya go, attagirl. Let go for me, sweetheart. S’alright, let me have it, yeah?”

A symphony of his name played from your lips at a steady crescendo until it filled the entirety of the cabin, and all at once a flash of white exploded behind your eyes as you free fell through space and time, floating in a cloud composed of Frank’s honeyed praises of your name and delicate sweet nothings. You’d given yourself powerful orgasms before but you had never felt something so intense as the delectation Frank created. It felt like you were floating between the astral space between Heaven and Earth, and you weren’t sure you could find your way back to your physical body again.

There was a faint amber glow flickering across your closed lids, and as you slipped in and out of coherence, you felt soft lips delicately pressing against your forehead and the edge of rough fingers gently stroking along your cheekbone lovingly. You didn’t want to move, you weren’t even sure if you could, but there was one thing you did want.

“Frank?”

The voice that resonated in your ears was fuzzy and distant, and it didn’t even sound like it belonged to you. A strong pair of arms wrapped securely around you, pulling you in from your stranded orbit closer towards where you were meant to be, and Frank’s soothing gruff voice quietly dripped a sacred promise into your ear.

“M’here.”

The hypnotic lullaby of his heart’s rhythm tethered you back to the dreamlike reality of Frank holding you against his chest, and that was all you needed to slip away under the blanket of stars that were dancing behind your eyes.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle smut #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher smut #the punisher series

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devildomwriter · 3 months ago

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Ten Manga I Think They’d Enjoy

Lucifer

He likes manga that reads like classic literature, dark stories, mysteries, psychological stories, and occasionally something sweet or cute

Monster, Devilman, Children of the Sea, A Country Without Humans, Doomsday With My Dog, Island in a Puddle, Erased, For the Kid I Saw In My Dreams, Innocent, Shonen Note

Mammon

He likes stories involving his personal hobbies like working on cars, gambling, etc. he also enjoys funny stories and secretly cute romances or relatable romances

The Brave-Tuber, Call of the Night, Fruits Basket, Life Lessons With Uramichi Oniisan, Initial D, Fairy Tail, Chio’s School Road, Gambling Apocolypse, Kakeguri, Prince Freya

Leviathan

Leviathan loves everything but he’s especially a fan of gaming manga, magical girls, monster girls, isekai, and the classics

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Black Butler, Berserk, Darling in the Franxx, Dragon Goes House Hunting, I Want to Be A Wall, The Great Snake’s Bride, Puella Magi Madoka, Sailor Moon, Magical Girl Incident

Satan

Satan loves manga that reads like classical literature but he also loves stories about cats, dark mysteries, psychological stories and ones with characters he finds relatable

Chi’s Sweet Home, Ascendance of a Bookworm, Ex-Yakuza and Stray Kitten, Evil Secret Society of Cats, I Am a Cat Barista, Case Closed, Night of the Living Cat, Natsume’s Book of Friends, Summertime Rendering, The Promised Neverland

Asmodeus

Asmodeus mostly enjoys romance whether it’s cute and fluffy or extremely erotic

Ouran High School Host Club, Lovesick Ellie, Monster Musume, MADK, Yarichin Bitch Club, Cherry Magic!, Dick Fight Island, Sweat and Soap, Shiori’s Diary, Nina the Starry Bride

Beelzebub

Beelzebub is a big fan of manga involving food but he also enjoys a good action adventure and sports manga

Food Wars, Delicious in Dungeon, Farming Life in Another World, Mashle, Sachi’s Monstrous Appetite, Starving Anonymous, Something’s Wrong With Us, Eyeshield 21, Kaiju No 8, Campfire Cooking in Another World With My Absurd Skill

Belphegor

Belphegor likes stories with relatable characters which can be hard to find but he also loves adventures, horror, and Slice of life; he’s a little all over the place

Sleep Princess in the Demon’s Castle, The Girl From the Other-side, Hell’s Paradise, Mieruko-Chan, Tokyo Aliens, Shibuya Goldfish, Non Non Biyori, Kemono Jihen, Beyond the Clouds, Laid Back Camp

Solomon

Solomon loves compelling narratives, dark psychological stories, stories that take a deeper look a humanity and immortality, and one’s that involves demons/angels/sorcerers. He does also love cat books like Satan

Death Note, Creepy Cat, No Longer Human, Devils and Realist, Frieren, Made in Abyss, Mao, Sakamoto Days, A School Frozen in Time, Stein’s Gate, Happiness

Thirteen

Thirteen is a little all over the place, she likes to see what’s popular but she also enjoys slashers, one’s that take a closer look at death and spirits, and dark romance

Elfen Lied, Attack on Titan, Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid, Momo the Blood Taker, Assassination Classroom, Can’t Stop Cursing You, Love of Kill, Angels of Death, Vampire Knight, Toilet Bound Hanako Kun

Simeon

Simeon enjoys reading manga that have some religious aspects, he likes ones about authors since they are relatable, and he enjoys some random ones here and there that are cute or funny. He’s also a sucker for a pure romance

Heaven’s Design Team, Gabriel Dropout, The King’s Beast, Merman in My Tub, My Girlfriend’s Child, A Sign of Affection, Tsubaki Chou Lonely Planet, An Incurable Case of Love, Monthly Girl’s Nozaki Kun, Perfect World

Raphael

Raphael canonically likes coming of age sports dramas. I believe he’s also he amused by one’s involving ant Christian aspects about angels and demons, heaven and hell. He also enjoys one’s that include his hobbies like security, military, and anything to do with fashion

Blue Lock, Haikyu, Blue Exorcist, Vatican Miracle Examiner, Maiden of the Needle, My Dress Up Darling, Not Sew Wicked Step Mother, Witch Hat Atelier, A Bride’s Story, Wind Breaker

Luke

Luke loves to try everything but his books are monitored to make sure he doesn’t stumble upon anything inappropriate for his age ana angel status. He loves ones about food, animals, adventure, and a good slice of life or 4-panel.

Happy Happy Clover, Yuzu the Pet Vet, Yotsuba&!, Sui and Tai-Chan, My Hero Academia, Demon Slayer, Dinosaur Sanctuary, Kitchen Princess, Astro Boy, Naruto

Michael

Michael enjoys funny books, one’s that take a closer look at humanity and war, classical adaptations, and one’s involving angels and demons.

Spy X Family, Maximum Ride, Takane and Hana, Obey Me! The Comic, Mr Villain’s Day Off, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Les Miserables, Apothecary Diaries, Deer King, Yona of the Dawn

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles likes books that involve history, nobility, prestigious jobs, mystery, and equestrian sports. He also enjoys one’s about demons and servants.

From the Red Fog, Derby Queen, The Elusive Samurai, Imperfect Girl, Peach Boy Riverside, The Splendid Work of the Monster Maid, Tales of the Kingdom, Tokyo Ghoul, Noragami, The Rose of Versailles

Barbatos

Barbatos prefers books that are dark and disturbing as well as insightful books on time, immortality, grief, morality vs law, etc.

Phantom Tales of the Night, My Dear Curse Casting Vampiress, A Silent Voice, Orange, Moriarty the Patriot, Nicola Traveling Around the Demon World, Royal Tutor, Usatoki Rhetoric, The Valiant Must Fall, To Your Eternity

Diavolo

Diavolo absolutely loves cute family manga, funny manga, one’s that involve demons and angels, cute romances, and exciting action and adventure. He isn’t picky and will read anything if it’s been recommended to him.

Wolf Childen, Earthian, The Devil is a Part-Timer, Seraph of the End, Mama Akuma, Little Devils, Cells at Work, Snow White With Red Hair, The Vampire and His Pleasant Companions, Azumanga Diaoh

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jamieontheroof · 7 months ago

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Random things I noticed while playing What Remains Of Edith Finch

There was a poster of the cannery that Lewis worked at on the boat.

2. Edith Jr wears what appears to be an engagement on a necklace. Whether this is her ring or her mothers is not mentioned.

3. At the start of the game, Milton's missing posters are EVERYWHERE. There is even a giant pile of them in a nearby lake.

4. The dragon slide that crushed and killed Sven is still outside.

5. As you walk toward the house, the music gets louder.

6. The swing that Calvin flew off decades ago is still looped around the branch.

7. There was a spare peep hole in the garage that didn't have any names or dates on it.

8. At multiple points throughout the game you can hear a train in the background, despite the fact that the train tracks are clearly destroyed.

9. There are multiple pots throughout the Finch house that looks like they have eyes.

10. One of the books the Finches possessed was 'King in Yellow', a book known for making anyone who read it insane.

11. The house sounds alive, or like there are people constantly moving around it.

12. Walters bedroom is painted with both ocean and train designs. One of the paintings is the old house that Odin tried to bring to America.

13. There are drag marks on the ground of Walters bedroom (most likely made when his drawers were taken out of his room.)

14. The entrance to the tunnels is hidden by a book called 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, a classic sci-fi story about a sea monster.

15. Molly's room is filled entirely with animal books.

16. There is a jelly fish on Molly's bed (possible connection to the monster??).

17. Molly has a chalkboard in her bedroom where she is a princess in an underwater castle and Sven is about to get attacked by a sea monster (slightly resembling the dragon slide).

18. As shark!Molly starts falling down the cliff, she passes a road where headlights are briefly scene.

19. When the monster gets back to Molly's room, the window that cat!Molly jumped through is still open.

20. There are still Christmas decorations in Molly's room.

21. The curse is 500 years old. That is a lot of dead people.

22. In Odin's viewfinder, it states "His [Odin's] daughter, Edie, is already dreaming of new Finch house" showing that even though her own father died not even a week ago, Edie has already moved on.

23. The house is filled head to toe with books about death, including two that Odin wrote.

24. Sven's shrine does not have a log painting like the rest of the family. His portrait is painted on a simple canvas.

25. Edie has a number of strange tapes in her room including one titled "conspiracy now".

26. The toys from Gregory's final bath are still in the bathroom.

27. There is an old bottle of alcohol in the bathroom bin.

28. A lot of Sam's photos are based on Calvin (a swing, astronauts).

29. All of Milton's drawings are based on the death. (Molly = cat, Barbara = pumpkin)

30. There are cigarettes and gin on Sam's side of the room he shared with Calvin.

31. Calvin already had bruises, Band-Aids and a cast on his leg when he died.

32. Sam blames himself for challenging Calvin.

33. In the story, Calvin doesn't fall. He keeps flying.

34. Barbara's birthday cake is still in her room.

35. Barbara is holding crutches in her portrait.

36. There are totem-esc styles statues of both Calvin and Molly

37. Barbara's outfit is over the railing.

This is the same way the Hook-Man falls

38. "Performance of her life" can also mean that it is the performance she is known for.

39. There are spare portrait logs in the basement.

40. There is a fake window in the basement.

41. Edie's grave is finished despite her dying and then nobody else going to the house.

42. There is no grave for Milton.

43. Lewis' grave has a crown on it.

44. There are times wear it seems like you can hear sobbing (this one may just be me).

45. There is a box of Kay's old stuff in Sam's bedroom.

46. Odin has a park named after him.

47. This isn't a fact but I think this may be one of the funniest photos of the game (LIKE SIR? YOUR DAUGHTER IS SOBBING!).

48. Both Calvin and Dawn are on Sam's shrine.

49. Gus has a skateboard over his name.

50. Gregory has the soap bottle from his final bath in his shrine.

51. The music cuts out when Gregory isn't moving.

52. Same also blames himself for Gregory.

53. Gus never met his step mother.

54. Gus was crushed by the (totem) statues of his deceased relatives.

55. Dawn's light switch is the only one on

56. Most of the rules are about past deaths. (No playing outside without permission : Calvin, No answering door for strangers : Barbara, No messes after dark : Molly (???)).

57. Milton's garden has a castle (reference to the Unfinished Swan)

58. There is a small Sanjay shrine in the classroom

59. Edith JR did an assignment on her family history.

60. Lewis drew on his desk.

61. There is no death date for Milton on his peephole.

62. Edith JR wrote Milton's death date as 2003 (the year he disappeared).

63. The door from the flip book is in Milton's room.

64. Lewis' dream Palace is decorated with fish.

65. The gnomes scattered around the house are outside the original house in Edie's story.

66. The credits roll in reverse order.

AND THAT'S IT!! I had a few others I thought didn't need to go in.

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will80sbyers · 4 months ago

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My speculation over the teaser!! Part One!

Spoilers

So let's start from the end lmao

El is in the Upside Down fighting something/someone and I'm deeply confused on if these are pants or a shirt, I think I was right and these are pants tho lol

anyway I think this will be around ep. 2 or 3 and the talk on the roof happens before this maybe ? unless it's some kind of vision

Vecna approaching, it could be the same scene, but I'm not sure because Vecna looks like he's inside a place not outside (?) could be wrong

Castle Byers is in ep. 1 I think this may be a nightmare/ vision Will has, idk it's giving nightmare, also @grandmags thinks this may be Will in his costume of the s4 finale

but this could be a different scene of Castle Byers irl (?)

Dustin going to Eddie's grave ep. 1, I think he gets attacked by the bullies here, I think Chance is present too or at least I think it's him

Ep. 1 at school 1987, Dustin gets attacked by the bullies before classes start, probably by Andy the one with the hat, and they destroy his shirt, he goes to Eddie's grave after school and gets attacked there too ?

Mike and Will go to the radio station and accompany Holly for a piece of the road, Lucas probably goes to Max at the hospital

these are all from the same sequences at least timewise

I think they are running to Dustin when he's being attacked, maybe before lunch?

I'm not sure about this moment because Lucas is dressed differently but Dustin has the shirt ripped... I think here they are the actors running lines more than anything also bc Gaten has his glasses on lol but this could be a moment where before going away from school they talk in the woods, because of the other screenshots where Will is having a vision - this may be before they divide and go to other places in ep. 1

this is the actual scene, Will is having a vision of some kind, parallel to s2 and to chrissy's vision probably? I'd say ep. 1

I think this may be ep. 2 (?) it's after they go to school because Dustin has the shirt ripped ( I think this happens at school bc we have a pic of him with the shirt ripped there, they get bullied) and they see each other at the radio station, something must have happened, I think Robin is the one near Nancy, and Nancy is dressed as the candy striper so maybe she's working at the hospital to help (?) or she needed to go there for some reason... Dustin looks like someone beat him up so I think the bullies at the cemetery beat him up and then after that he goes to the radio station

we have the rainbow room taken over by the upside down

the tunnels under the farm

Ep. 4 I think from the colours it's a scene in Mike's basement, it could be a vision, we already had a better frame of this from something Ross posted, I'm gonna try to link the other posts after I finish this one so y'all can see what I'm talking about

This is Lucas that for some reason is inside the Mansion of that family, it looks like the interior, and we had another pic from paps where you can kinda see him inside, maybe ep.3

from how Jonathan is dressed I think he's either not doing anything / working at the radio station or he's attending art classes in a college? he's dressed weirdly idk like a art college student trying to be cool... I think Jancy may be broken up at this point?

Holly, I think she just came home from school, and she's watching a monster attack Karen ? She seems wet too idk why... anyway this is ep. 1 or 2 probably

Holly is having visions / dreams or the lights flicker because a demogorgon has arrived ? maybe this is before she goes to see what's happening and Karen gets attacked, also like... Holly biggest queer ally lmaoooo everything is rainbow room themed... ep. 1 probably

not sure about what this is about, maybe El visiting Max at the hospital in a vision? I'm not sure of where she is, but she looks sad, maybe this is what she's looking at in her mind in the roof with the bandana before Mike arrives to talk in ep. 1/2 ?

I think Joyce and Robin are trying to figure out how to make the radio or the lights in the radio station work? probably ep. 1 or 2 - not sure of when this is temporally speaking in the timeline, maybe they have a blackout and go to check?

Steve in the UD, ep. 4 or after ep.4 ? It seems they end up there in that episode and Steve looks hurt

this is before ep-4, I think maybe ep. 3 they are at the mansion and go there with the car and they still have the antenna outside of the car which it should mean they haven't fallen yet... I don't think it's the moment in which they fall because Dustin is not there

Episode 4 ? at the farm, Erica and Derek must know each other like the spoilers said, tbh I hope they are not romantic but just friends... Robin, Mike, Will and many others should be there too all together

I'll continue in another post and link the posts that make me think this! just speculation from the bts pics we have!!

Part two

#stranger things #st5 spoilers #st5 #st5 speculation #byler #st5 production

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darkbluekies · 2 years ago

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Catch the queen

yandere!king OC x fem reader

Summary: you're fleeing the evil king and hide in the village, hoping to blend in before you can run away for real. Edmund loses his mind and decides to lure you out with fire.

Warnings: yandere, arson, knives, harassment, drunk men, isolation, behading, corpses, a bit of Stockholm symdrome, hints of abuse, name calling

Word count: 4k.

Edmund’s arms are like suffocating cages. Everytime his hands touch you, you lose the ability to breathe. His kisses feel like fire and burn your skin every time they press against you. You can’t take it anymore. You don’t want to be his pretty doll.

You have nothing planned, but you know that you need to be quiet and run the fastest you possibly can.

Quietly, you get out of his arms. They’re difficult to bend off of you, but finally, they loosen up. You’re careful not to step on any creaky floor planks as you try to dress yourself. Covering yourself in a dark blue cloak and your body in a warm dress is normally a hard task, but near impossible now that you have to look over your shoulder and try to make your trembling hands cooperate. You grab your dagger, a gift from Edmund. He wants you to be able to protect yourself if he’s ever away from you.

Edmund twists and turns in bed. He never stays still unless he holds you in his arms. You have to get out of here before he realizes that you're no longer in his embrace. Guards are walking through the mighty corridors, but you do your best to avoid them all and sink into dark corners when they pass by. Heart beating loudly in your ears. A part of you regrets ever trying to leave. They’ll notice you soon enough and then you’ll have to get down on your bare knees and beg forgiveness from Edmund. He’ll revel in it and you can’t stand seeing that satisfied smirk on his face when he once again gets what he wants.

Finally. Finally, you manage to leave the castle. A fresh breeze hits your face. WIthout looking back, you run. But where? The forest is deep and dangerous at night. Thieves hide where to get away from the royal knights. If they noticed you, you'd be their hostage. Edmund would get you back to every price and you'd be right back where you started. You have to blend in to get away. You have to go to the village.

It’s late at night and you doubt that anyone is up to help you. No lights are shining in the windows and all doors are locked. The streets are as empty as the grave. You pull the cloak closer to your body. What should you do? It’s not safe to be out on the countryside roads during the night. You can’t leave the village in the middle of the night and even if you do, the chances of your legs giving up before you reach another is too big to take.

You run through the dark alleyways, looking for somewhere to spend the night. Tomorrow morning when the sun rises, you’ll move on. It’s dangerous to stay in the same kingdom as Edmund. He’ll find you too quickly.

You find a barn where you decide to spend the night. Carefully, you lay down in the hay and grass, making yourself comfortable. You shiver at the cold air and hug yourself to keep yourself warm. It takes an hour until you finally fall asleep.

Drunken male voices wake you up a while later.

“Oh, look at this”, one slurs. “A woman. Let’s have some fun.”

You freeze and reach for the dagger Edmund’s given you, ready to go to attack.

“What’s a pretty lady doing here?” another one asks, sounding just as drunk. He hiccups. “Did we get a blessing? Oh, we’re so lucky.”

You hurry up from your hiding place and try to make a run for it, but the two men grab you.

“Don’t leave yet”, they purr drunkenly. “We’re not done yet.”

You breathe out in stress and give the men deadly glares. Something clears up in their dull eyes.

“Holy shit, it’s the queen!” one of them gasps.

They’ll have to let you go now, you think.

“We’re really lucky then”, the other one says.

You sigh and squeeze your eyes shut. Quickly, you kick the man in front of you and stab the one behind you with your dagger, leaving it behind. The two of them grunt and fall down on the dirty floor. You run for your life out of the barn and into the dark village. The men run behind you and you know that you have to get away before they find you again. You duck into someone’s backyard and hide behind a bush. The two men run past you. You gulp. Is this how things will be from now on? You sniffle and hide your face in your cloak’s sleeve.

“Why are you crying?” a tiny voice asks.

You look up and see a little boy hugging a teddy bear. He’s standing in front of you. You hadn’t seen him, he blends into the night air.

“I’m scared” you whisper and force a smile. “Do you live here?”

The boy nods.

“I’m sorry for trespassing. I needed to hide from those bad men who followed me.”

“Are you really the queen?”

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you in the castle?”

You wipe your tears carefully.

“I’m playing hide and seek with the king”, you whisper. “I can’t let him find me or he’ll win.”

“I can help you!”

You smile slightly and caress the little boy’s cheek.

“I can’t let you get involved”, you sniffle. “The king is a sore loser, he’ll be mad if someone helps me. He’ll think I’m cheating.”

In more ways than one.

“I’m not a sore loser!” the boy smiles.

“That’s good”, you say. “Edmund could learn from you.”

“I want to be king one day!”

“I think you should be one. You seem like a smart king.”

“Leon, who are you talking to?” a female voice asks from the back door. “You should be sleeping!”

“Mom, mom! The queen is here!”

“Leon, don’t lie-”

You stand up and the woman gasps. She’s wearing a brown, cheap dress with her head in a messy bun.

“Y-Your majesty!” she stutters and bows. “Leon, go inside.”

The little boy runs past his mother and leaves you with his mother. The woman hurries over to you.

“Your majesty, why are you here?” she asks. “Are you alright?”

“I’m … I’m hiding”, you whisper. “I have to get away from here.”

“Do you need anything? Can I get you something? Are you hungry?”

You can feel your stomach rumble slightly and nod shyly. The woman smiles and nods at the back door.

“Come here, I’ll get you something to eat.”

You follow the woman into the little house and into an even smaller kitchen. She walks over to the stove and starts to prepare something that smells like childhood. In a few minutes she places a bowl of hot porridge on the table in front of you. You take a spoonful.

“I apologize if it’s bad”, she says nervously. “I know that you’re used to high class dishes.”

“No, I like it. It reminds me of my mothers cooking. I miss that.”

Leon runs over to the table. You pet his hair with a smile. The woman sends him to bed.

“Why are you up?” you ask the mother. “It’s late …”

“I know”, she sighs sadly. “But I get so worried when my husband is out and about. I can’t go to sleep before he’s home. It seems to disrupt Leon too. He insists on staying up with me, but I’d rather not have him see his father’s state.”

“How old is he?”

“Four.”

“He’s adorable.”

“My queen, can you tell me why you’re out hiding? Has something happened?” She shakes her head. “Forgive me for asking. I shouldn’t.”

“It’s okay. It’s just … some things. All you need to know is that I have to get away from here.”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, I’m not sure yet. Away from here. I can’t go to my parents either. I don’t know where I should go. But I’ll figure it out. In time.”

“Stay here for the night. We’ll figure something out tomorrow.”

“Thank you, you’re too kind.”

Despite the woman’s kindness, you have a hard time falling asleep. What will Edmund think when he wakes up? What will he do?

The bed feels oddly cold for the both of you to be here. He feels around after you, but can’t feel another body. Quickly, he opens his eyes and looks around. Where are you?

“Y/N?” he asks. “Where are you?”

No answer. He gets up from the bed quicker than a cat getting scared.

“Y/N, answer me!” he says, growing nervous. “Don’t hide!”

When he doesn’t get an answer again, he freezes. You haven’t escaped, have you? He’d like to think that you know better. Edmund barges up from his bed and out into the mighty corridors. He shouts at the guards to collect the knights and prepare his horse. He’ll find you. And if you refuse to show, or if someone is hiding you … they'll feel his wrath. His plan will make sure you never dare to go against him like this ever again.

With no trace and no idea where you could be hiding, they decide to do the most practical thing in this situation. They ride into the village, gaining all of the people's attention.The king stops his horse right by his secretary’s and looks over the crowd that has gathered to see what has made the king come down to them. You’re none of the spectators. The king’s secretary holds up a piece of paper and a megaphone-looking thing in front of his face to make sure that everyone will hear him.

“Tonight, the queen ran away from the castle!” the secretary says loudly. “We suspect that she is hiding among you somewhere and that one of you is shielding her. If you don’t give her back in an hour, we will burn this village to the ground in our hunt for his wife. Now the king would like to say a few words.”

He backs away, letting Edmund take the spotlight.

"Y/N, you better come out!" Edmund shouts with a gaze running among the crowd. “Don't be stupid and sacrifice so many innocent lives just because you are afraid! You don't have to be afraid, my queen! I will never hurt you! You can trust me! We belong together and it’s about time you accept that!” He turns to his secretary and lowers his voice. “I’m going to kill the one hiding her from me.”

You can’t hear him, you have no idea of what he’s planning. You’re sleeping soundly in the bed you’ve gotten. When you wake up, it’s too late.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask as you see people run past the window.

You can see a layer of thick, black smoke covering the sky. A flame is spreading among the houses.

“We have to leave!” the woman shouts and picks up Leon in her arms. “Your majesty, come with us, we’ll shield you!”

You follow her out into the chaos. People are screaming and crying and running for their lives. You get pushed left to right as the big crowd flees. Heat is hitting you in the face in an uncomfortable manner. It’s hard to breathe.

“Knights!” Leon gasps in awe. “And the king!”

You freeze and turn around, seeing the royal horses. You can glimpse Edward on his white lady. Without a second doubt, you move closer into the overpacked crowd. You look around, seeing the two men from yesterday.

“There’s the whore!” they shout.

You look at the little boy in his mothers arms and gulp.

“I have to go”, you say quickly to them and caress Leon’s head. “I’ll find you later. Now you have to hurry!”

“Are you sure, your majesty?” the mother asks.

You nod and give them a push in the other direction. “Hurry!”

They leave. You start to run in another direction before the men can catch up to you. You run into a less packed alleyway. They corner you against a burning wall.

“You fucking bitch”, one of them hisses and presses your dagger against your neck. “You don’t shove your knife into me and think you can get away with it! I don’t care who the fuck you are, I’ll make sure you never dare to try to do this again!”

“This fire is your fault, you fucking bitch”, the other growls. “You’ve ruined our entire livelihood! You’re so fucking selfish.”

You kick the man in front of you between his legs and run. The other man trips over his friend, giving you a bit of an advantage. You end up on an empty street. You stop when you see the white horse a few meters in front of you. You want to run, but the mere sight of him makes you paralyzed.

“W-What have you done?” you gasp. “Look around!”

“I had to get you to show yourself one way or another”, he says calmly. “No one told me where you were. I gave them an hour to give you to me or I’d burn down their little village.” He shrugs. “Yet they didn’t … so all of this are the consequences of trying to hide you from me. It’s not my fault the peasants disobeyed me.”

Tears start to run down your cheeks. Is all of this your fault? If only you had known about his idiotic idea, you could have stopped it.

Edmund jumps down from his horse and opens his arms.

“Come here, my love”, he says softly. “You have nowhere to run. Why don’t you just do yourself a favor and return to me? You can’t hide from me in the end. Be a good girl, alright?”

“I’m scared, Edmund”, you admit through your sobs. You’re not sure what you’re more afraid of — him or the men following you.

“I know, my love, I know.” He gulps. “Come into my arms. I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure that everything will be okay, alright?”

You hesitate. It’s so tempting to run into his arms and let him take control again. These have been a couple of terrifying hours and you don’t want them to continue. You want a roof over your head again and the safety of having your necessities met again. Staying out on the street won’t be safe.

“It won’t matter where you go, I’ll always find you”, Edmund continues. “Your righteous place is with me. You have to understand that. We married — you belong to me by law. You can’t just run away from me like this. Come here, my queen, let me hold you.”

An immense exhaustion creeps into your body. You’ve been in survival mode for hours by now, your fight is over, you can’t win against Edmund. You look around. If you stay here any longer, you’ll start to burn and people will get even more hurt. All of this is your fault. Everyone will blame you for this. You won’t be safe here. All you want is to relax and have someone else take care of everything … but Edmund’s not a good person. If you go back, he’ll punish you. But maybe that’s better than having an entire village after you, wanting you dead for burning down their houses? You look over to Edmund, at his soft, loving eyes. You run over to him, into his strong arms. He wraps his arms around you tightly and you sob into his shoulder. If everyone hates you for the fire … you know that he will still be on your side. He’ll always be by your side.

“Don’t cry, my love, it hurts me so”, he whispers into your ear and holds you tightly. “Everything will be okay now.” He pulls back, cups your cheeks frantically and gives your lips a desperate kiss. He presses his own against yours, moving faster than you can keep up with. “Fuck, I always feel like a drunken man when I’m with you.”

Speaking of drunken men, your fan club is back. You look over your shoulder with a small whimper. However, you’re not as scared anymore. Not when you have the king’s strong arms wrapped around you. Edmund notices something.

“Y/N, why do they have your dagger?” he asks suspiciously as his grip on you tightens.

You press yourself close to him without thinking and he clenches his jaw before tightening his arms around you in a protective manner.

“Don’t worry, my dear”, he says coldly. “I’ll kill them for touching you.”

He pulls out his sword as his knights ride over.

“Make sure Y/N doesn’t leave”, he says and gives you to the closest knight. “I’m going to take care of these men.”

Edmund runs after the two men with his sword raised. The knight who holds you helps you up on Edmund’s horse.

“Your majesty”, he says. “We need to move out of here before the fire traps us. I’ll lead your horse.”

You hug the white horse’s neck as the knights lead you through the destroyed village, out of the danger zone. You can’t watch it.

Edmund’s soon back. The two men are in chains and led by some knights. Edmund holds your dagger in his hands before placing it together with his sword.

“Are you hurt, my love?” he asks worriedly and stands by the horse. “You have a mark on your throat. Did they try to hurt you?”

You nod slowly. Edmund turns to the two men with his own fire burning in his eyes.

“How fucking dare you think that you could touch my wife?!” he growls and slaps one of them as hard as he can. “You fucking left a mark on my wife!”

He spits at their feet before walking back to his horse and jumps up in front of you. He forces your hands to hug his waist. You rest your cheek on his back to hide your crying face. Edmund caresses your intertwined hands over his stomach and rides over to his knights.

“Don’t cry, my dear”, he whispers softly over his shoulder. “You’re safe now.” He turns to his knights and his voice goes cold. “I got what I came for. Let’s go back.”

“What about the village, your majesty?” a knight asks.

“Pour some water on it.”

Without saying anything more, the king rides away. He holds one of his hands over yours to comfort your sobs. He lifts one of your hands to his lips and gives it kisses.

“You’ve must been so scared among all of those horrible, horrible people”, he says over his shoulder. “Don’t worry though, Y/N, you’re never going out into the real world again. Never again, you hear me?”

You nod against his shoulder. You’re not sure that the people would even want you back into their village after this.

He stops the horse out on the castle’s front yard and helps you down by your waist. Some maids run out to meet you and Edmund hesitates giving you to them.

“Give her a bath”, he demands. “I can only imagine all the fleas and bacterias she has gotten. She smells like smoke. When she’s done, take her into our chamber and make sure she stays there. I’ll talk to her later.”

He gives you to the maids who pull you inside the castle and gives you the hottest bath you’ve ever encountered. You’re sure your skin is melting off. They dress you in the finest of silk and lead you to your shared chamber. You sit down in the bed, waiting for Edmund to come back. He enters the room thirty minutes later.

“I’m not going to let you off the hook”, he says and pulls up his sleeves.

“I won’t run away again, Edmund, I promise”, you whine in fear. “Please-”

“Shh, darling, I don’t think you have the right to shout at me. Not after the hell you’ve put me through. You should be happy that I don’t behead you together with the two dogs who thought they could touch what's mine!” He runs his veiny hand through his dark hair. “I’m going to give you two punishments. One, watch the beheading-”

“I refuse-”

“Shut up, Y/N. Two, you are going to spend three days in the tower with me.”

The tower is like the dungeons just without the rats and prisoners. You gulps.

“You’re going to learn how much of the things you have here is thanks to me, my love”, Edmund says. “Every piece of clothing you own, every day you spend under my roof, every bite of food you get … is thanks to me. When I’m not there, you have nothing and you get chased by disgusting men like those two in the dungeons. After our little vacation to the tower, you’ll understand. Get up, we have a beheading to watch.”

He pulls you with him to the balcony with a cramping hold. The two men are put on display out on the castle’s front yard and they’re facing you. Edmund stands beside you like a stone.

“Please don’t!” one of the men shouts in desperation. “Please, we’re sorry!”

“Sorry, my ass”, you mutter.

Edmund chuckles and kisses your temple.

“Your majesty, please, you met my son!” one of them shouts. “Leon!”

You frown, feelings suddenly shifting. Leon …

“Please, don’t deprive him of a father!”

“Edmund …”, you whisper sadly.

“He was going to deprive me of a wife”, Edmund answers coldly. “He’s going to die.”

“But he has a son, Edmund! I know he’s an asshole, but-”

“Do you want him to set an example for his son, hm? Do you want him to treat his wife the way he treated you?”

You think of the nice lady who helped you and her adorable little son. You’ve given them enough problems. If you let this man go back to them …

“You’re right”, you whisper firmly. “Kill them.”

“That’s my girl.”

Edmund shouts for the guards to end the men's pathetic lives. You watch with hate in your eyes. Leon and his mother will never hurt again and they’ll not be able to harass any more girls in the village.

“Now we don’t have to worry about them anymore, my dear”, Edmund says when the corpses get pulled off the ground. “Let’s go to the tower now.”

“So you can indoctrinate me?” you mutter sarcastically.

“Exactly.”

He pulls you by the arm with him through the castle’s mighty corridors. He walks behind you up the spiral stone stairs to the tower’s little room. If you stop or slow down, he gives you a small push.

“Move those little legs for me, pretty”, he encourages you. “We’re not there yet.”

“But there’s so many stairs”, you complain.

“You ran all the way down to the village with those legs, you can walk a couple of stairs.”

You reach the rounded room in what feels like an hour. You sink down into a sitting position on the old, wooden floor. Edmund chuckles at you.

“You need to grow some muscles, my dear”, he says and then frowns. “Or don’t. The weaker you are, the less I have to worry about you running away again.”

You look around in the room, noticing that it’s completely empty.

“As you can see”, Edmund says and closes the wooden plugs over the window. “There is nothing here. If you want to be comfortable and not sit on the floor, you’ll have to sit in my lap. If you want food, you’ll have to ask me so I can get it for you and if you’re cold, you’ll have to cuddle up to me. Any questions?”

You’re about to give him a sassy remark, but hold back. It won’t end well for you if you do.

“Good girl”, Edmund smirks and sneaks his arms around your waist. “Now let’s enjoy each other's company, hm?”

This will be the death of you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere oc x you #king yandere #yandere king #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #edmund oc #yandere oneshot #female reader

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firestorm09890 · 1 month ago

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I was idly and sort of jokingly thinking that if I’m going to write a Zexion and Saïx rivalry they need to have matching symbolism somewhere and so I thought “Saïx is moon-coded, does Zexion have any celestial body symbolism?” and the answer is YES ACTUALLY, he’s associated with meteors. They don’t appear in Chain of Memories, but they’re part of his desperation move in kh2, it’s his Limit Break in 358/2 Days, it’s the attack on certain Zexion medals in KHUx, and it’s the attack that his card gives in Dark Road; overall, it’s the one consistency across his incredibly varied movesets.

so then I thought “man, I need to draw Zexion with some meteors, that’d be cool…”

then I remembered that in kingdom hearts as a whole, meteor showers are signs that a world’s borders have fallen, and it's become more susceptible to heartless, which, in kh1 at least, meant it was only a matter of time before the world's heart was devoured and it fell into darkness completely.

and then what Ansem says in Secret Report #2... (emphasis mine) "Spurred on by my youngest apprentice, Ienzo, I constructed a massive laboratory in the basement of my castle"...

not necessarily the catalyst, but a sign of the beginning of the end. Ienzo, Zexion, shooting stars and meteor showers, lost innocence, signs of wishes turned into signs of destruction. His quotes during the Meteor Mirage limit break are "You think you can be forgiven?!" and "You've brought it upon yourself!" I'm sure he's fine and likewise I'm also fine I'm normal I can be trusted with this symbolism

#this post actually has nothing to do with saix #kingdom hearts #zexion #ienzo #if they want me to stop overanalyzing their side character they shouldn't have intentionally left out so many treats for me #me post

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gliphyartfan · 2 months ago

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@yanderelinkeduniverse @stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes @eternadreeblissa

…Hi :D

(As always, thank you Yandy for the advice. 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹)

Okie Dokie! Time to grow this bread into a sandwich!

(HAHAHA! I queued this so i could catch a certain friend off guard with a randomly timed post~ You know who you are missy~! Also imma be sleeping in, i wuv you? 🥹)

It began as nothing more than idle curiosity.

Whispers of a wanderer, who seemed to appear wherever monsters were slain.

Tales passed from traveler to traveler, trickling into villages like a strange current. At first, the stories were nothing more than entertainment—a young soul battling hordes of beasts sounded like the stuff of fairy tales, and the people, insulated in their small hamlets, hardly gave it a second thought.

“They’ve been seen by the dead forests near the mountains,” a young woman said one day, her voice a little too loud, a little too eager. “They say the bodies of monsters are strewn across the path they walks.”

Another woman chimed in, her voice hushed but with the kind of excitement that comes from having something new to share. “I’ve heard the same. A merchant passed through not long ago and claimed he saw the aftermath—bodies mangled, monsters torn apart, and not a soul in sight but one person who merely walked away.”

An old man sitting nearby scoffed, whittling a piece of wood as he listened to their chatter. “And the merchant just happened to be wandering through such dangerous lands, did he? More likely, he’s spinning stories to lighten your pockets.”

The first woman bristled. “It was near one of the main roads to Castle Town! You know as well as anyone how bad it’s gotten out there, what with all the rising monster attacks!”

The old man spat onto the ground. “So we’re meant to believe a single person has been wandering the wilderness, killing monsters for no reason? at all? Appeared out of nowhere, slaying hundreds, then vanishing to appear somewhere else? What next? Will the gods themselves descending to pat them on the back?”

A few of the villagers glanced toward the argument, but quickly averted their eyes, pretending not to listen. They didn’t want to get involved. Not in this. The rumors had been growing more persistent lately, and with them, something darker—an unease, like a shadow creeping closer.

Despite the arguments to the contrary, the stories refused to fade. In fact, they spread—spreading like wildfire from one village to the next, whispered by travelers passing through, by farmers returning from the markets.

At first, it was always the same—a wanderer with a sword, fighting monsters. But over time, the stories shifted slightly. The monsters were no longer the only ones falling to the mysterious wanderer’s blade.

The rumors became darker.

Now, there were whispers of men slain, bandits cut down as mercilessly as the beasts. Some even claimed it wasn’t simply bandits, but ordinary travelers who had crossed their path. And the wanderer—always just one person, faceless, nameless—never stepped foot in the villages. They never appeared in the markets or by the wells. No one had ever actually seen them properly, or at least, no one wanted to admit they had.

“Such a person’s never come through here,” the villagers would say when a traveler asked. “Not once.”

And yet… as the stories persisted, as the fear crept into their voices, some began to contradict themselves. “I’ve seen them,” one of their own might exclaim in a moment of nervous excitement. “It was at the edge of the village, just for a second. They passed by the old road near the woods.”

But no one wanted to admit the dread that twisted in their stomachs. No one wanted to acknowledge the silent fear that settled in their bones whenever they heard of this wanderer. So they waved it off, forcing laughter, pretending the tale of the slayer didn’t chill them to the core.

“Bah, you saw nothing,” the old man would scoff again, though this time, his hands shook as he whittled. “It’s just travelers talking. You lot are too easily swayed by gossip.”

But even he couldn’t explain why the stories never seemed to stop. Why, even in the most remote corners of the land, the whispers were the same. Villages miles apart, separated by rivers and mountains, somehow all spoke of the same person.

A wanderer no one had ever truly seen upclose.

But one they all slowly grew to fear.

And they feared most of all that one day, he would come to their homes. They feared what would happen if that person came too close—if the stories, after all this time, were not just stories…

…

——

…

…Their stomach growled, sharp and insistent, echoing louder than the wind that howled through the mountains. They gone too long without food, too long without proper rest.

For days, weeks, perhaps, They had survived on scraps found in the wild, gnawing on whatever edible plants they could find, but it wasn’t enough. (There was never enough in these poisoned lands.) Not anymore.

Their supplies had run dry days ago. The bag slung across their back was light, too light for any sensible traveler. Their lips were dry, their limbs heavy, but they kept walking. Always walking. Always wandering towards their next location,

The nearby village was close now, maybe half a day away.

…

…they didn’t want to go there.

Didn’t want to face people, to hear the loudness, the gossip, the looks.

They never did, not anymore. It was easier staying in the wilderness, always on the move. But hunger gnawed at them, dragging them toward the edges of civilization.

The monsters had been thinning out in this area, their numbers dwindling after they swept through the mountains. The monsters would inevitably return. They always did.

They didn’t care about any of that, their mind was set on one thing: food.

(Oh… to be back in the bountiful fields and forests of other times. To gaze into the sea of green and know plentiful food and fresh clean water was bountiful and untainted.)

Their steps quickened as they neared the village. They hated this part, being around people. So they would get what they needed and leave. That was all.

—-

“Today, a wanderer is walking towards town from the north side! Guardsman says it’s a single person in a cloak, carrying a sword on their back.”

The words spread through the village like wildfire. The people had heard that the guard had seen him from a distance, a lone figure making their way toward them from the mountains. Conversations hushed, children were pulled back into their homes.

A few curious villagers lingered by the entrance, pretending to go about their day but keeping a close eye on the road. When the person arrived, they noticed their clothes were heavily travel-worn and stained with dark splotches, their face obscured by a cloak, but the sword strapped to their back gleamed in the sunlight.

No one wanted to be the first to approach.

—

They walked with purpose, ignoring the stares, the muttered suspicions. They made their way to the village’s small market, looking for food, something to ease the gnawing hunger in their gut.

Their footsteps were heavy, each one dragging them closer to their destination. The familiar pull of hunger clawed at their insides, twisting their stomach in knots.

As much as they wanted to avoid people, to slip by unnoticed, the ache in their belly wouldn’t let them.

The village was small, unremarkable, the kind they preferred.

They had kept their head down as they entered, walking toward the market stalls that lined the dusty road. No one spoke to the visitor as they passed, but no doubt the visitor could feel the eyes on their back, the whispers barely contained as the visitor passed.

“Do you think that’s the one who killed those travelers near the mountains?”

“I can’t tell…aren’t they a bit too young looking?.”

“I can certainly tell you that sword doesn’t look like it’s simply for show. It’s stained red at the handle.”

The visitor stopped in front of a stall selling bread and dried meats. The man behind the counter was older, his skin weathered from years in the sun.

He barely looked up at first, busy wrapping a loaf of bread for another customer. When he did, he seemed unimpressed by the cloaked figure standing before him, just another traveler passing through.

But then they reached up, pulling back their hood.

The old man froze, his hands stilling over the goods on his counter. The boy’s face was young—far too young (as young as his own grandchild…) to be traveling alone with a mere sword on his back.

For a moment, the man blinked, unsure if he was seeing things correctly. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask where the boy’s parents were, but the words never came out.

It wasn’t the youth that gave him pause. It was the look in the boy’s eyes.

Dark, heavy, burdened by something much older than his years. The kind of look you only saw in soldiers or those who had lived through nightmares. A look that shouldn’t belong to someone so young.

The old man swallowed hard, choosing his next words carefully. “What… what can I get for you?”

The boy’s eyes flickered to the food laid out on the stall. “Bread,” he said, his voice quiet, soft, but firm. “And dried meat, if you have any.”

The old man nodded slowly, still taken aback. Such a young boy.

He slowly reached for a loaf and a strip of dried meat, wrapping them in cloth before handing them over.

The boy reached into his pocket, pulling out a few rupees and placing them on the counter.

His hand was steady, but the old man noticed how thin his fingers were, how the veins stood out beneath his pale skin.

“Are… you’re traveling alone?” the old man asked, unable to help himself.

The boy looked up, his gaze meeting the old man’s for the briefest moment before dropping back to the food in his hands. “Yes.”

The old man hesitated, wanting to ask more, but something stopped him.

That look—he couldn’t shake it. He didn’t know what the boy had seen, what he had been through, but it was clear enough that the boy didn’t want to talk about it. Not to a complete stranger. So he let it go.

“Well,” the old man said, clearing his throat, “safe travels, then.”

The boy gave a nod, pulling his hood back up before turning and walking away, the whispers behind him growing louder as he moved through the market.

As he continued down the road, passing more stalls, a man suddenly stepped forward, blocking his path. He was broad shouldered and rough around the edges, from his state of dress, he was a guard in this village.

His expression hardened with suspicion. The villagers nearby quieted, turning their attention to the scene unfolding before them.

“You there,” the man called out, his voice gruff. His eyes narrowed, scanning the cloaked figure up and down. “You the wanderer everyone’s been talking about? The one slaying beasts… and men around these parts?”

The boy didn’t stop right away, his pace slowing only as he came to a halt just a few feet from the man. His face was half-shadowed beneath the hood he’d just pulled back up, and the weight of his gaze was unreadable as it fell on the man blocking his path.

He tilted his head slightly, as though considering the question. His voice, when he spoke, was soft. Unconcerned. “Am I who you’re looking for?”

The man’s scowl deepened. “Don’t play coy, boy. People talk of a wanderer who has been leaving bodies behind wherever he walks.”

The young boy blinked, slowly, his expression unreadable beneath the quiet calm that seemed to settle around him like a heavy fog.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t bristle at the accusation. He merely stared at the man for a moment, his voice soft when he spoke again. “And if I am?”

A murmur rippled through the crowd that had begun to gather, villagers shifting uncomfortably as they watched the exchange. The man before him, however, remained rigid.

“Then I’ve heard well about you. The rumors going around that you’ve killed not just monsters, but people. Merchants and travelers. Is that true?”

The boy stopped, his gaze lifting slowly from beneath his hood to meet the man’s eyes. He didn’t answer right away, but the air around him seemed to thicken, the tension palpable. More villagers gathered around, drawn in by the confrontation.

“You…knew someone I killed, then?” the boy asked, his voice quiet but steady.

The man took a step forward, jabbing a finger in Hyrule’s direction. “They say you killed a merchant not far from here.”

Hyrule blinked slowly, his face impassive as he absorbed the man’s words. He didn’t flinch at the accusation, nor did he show any sign of fear or guilt. His voice, when he spoke, was soft and steady. “Was he…someone worth recalling?”

The man’s nostrils flared. “Don’t play dumb with me!” he snapped. “He was a good man. A friend of mine, and I want answers, boy.”

“I killed many.” The boy replied, no change to his soft tone, “So perhaps I am who you seek.”

“So you admit you killed him!” The man exclaimed, “Why? What reason could you possibly have to murder an innocent man?”

“I have no reason to kill an innocent man.” He answered.

The boy remained quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting past the man, as if lost in thought. Then, with the same quiet calm, he spoke again. “He wasn’t innocent.”

The man took a moment to register what he said, eyes widening in shock. “…What?” His face turned red with anger.

“What do you mean he wasn’t innocent?!? He has done so much and I’ve known him for years-“

“He raped a woman.”

That once sentence silenced the entire area.

Many paling, several covering their mouths in horror.

The man’s red face immediately turning white as he registered what was said.

“He dared commit such an atrocity against a woman. Took from her what wasn’t his to take. I killed him for it.”

The boy’s eyes slowly returned to the man’s, his voice still soft, still unwavering.

“Would you still call him innocent now?”

The crowd gasped, whispers rippling through the gathered villagers. The man’s face twisted in disbelief, shaking his head violently. “No… no, you’re lying!” he shouted, his voice rising. “He wouldn’t do something like that! He was a good man!”

The boy’s gaze didn’t waver, the weight of his words settling in the air with finality. “He was a rapist,” he said quietly, everyone who heard him flinching from the declaration. “And I killed him for it.”

The man took a stumbling step back, his face contorted with rage and denial. “You… you can’t just say that! You don’t get to decide who lives and dies, you are a BOY! He was my friend!”

The boy’s expression remained calm, his voice never rising. “I didn’t make the decision. He did. When he forced himself on her. I simply responded as I should.”

For a moment, the man looked as though he might lash out, his fists trembling at his sides. But before he could do anything, a woman’s voice cut through the tense silence.

“Is it true?” Both boy and man looked at her.

“Did that friend of his truly… deflower a lass against her will?” She asked again.

“He did.” He answered, more whispers erupting from the crowd.

“If it’s true,” the woman said, stepping forward from the crowd, “then…then he deserved it!”

“WHAT?!?”

The man turned to her, his face a mask of disbelief. “You… you’re defending this? Defending him?”

“Aren’t you defending a vile man?” The woman said, crossing her arms, her eyes hard as she stared back at him as he stuttered to come up with a response. “If that friend of yours truly defiled a woman like this boy says, then he got what was coming to him.”

More murmurs spread through the crowd, this time in agreement. Some of the women nodded, their expressions grim but resolute. The man looked around, his face twisting as he searched for support, but found none.

“This… this can’t be happening,” he muttered, his voice breaking slightly. “He wouldn’t..we…we was friends…since we was kids…”

Many in the crowd looked at the man in sympathy. Such news was never handled well. Especially when it involved someone you were close to.

The young boy stood there, silent, watching the man’s reaction with the same calm detachment. The man’s shoulders sagged in defeat, but he wasn’t ready to give up. “It…doesn’t matter. You still killed him. We’ll have to report this.”

Before he could take step forward, the boy spoke up, “No. You won’t.”

The man froze, turning back to face the boy, disbelief flickering in his eyes. “What?”

The boy didn’t move, his gaze still fixed on the man. “You won’t report this.”

There was no malice in his voice, no threat. Just a calm, quiet certainty that sent a ripple of unease through the gathered crowd.

The villagers shifted uncomfortably, murmurs of confusion spreading like wildfire, but no one dared to step forward.

The man’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

The boy’s calm, unhurried tone seemed to strip the anger from him, leaving only the shock and disbelief that he was grappling with. He shook his head, almost as if trying to shake off the weight of the boy’s words. “I— H..How dare you..I have to report this!”

“No,” the boy repeated, his soft-spoken voice steady, unnervingly gentle. “You don’t. You now know what he did, and can now shun him for it. Just as everyone else already has.”

The man faltered, his hands trembling as they hung limply at his sides. His face was flushed, beads of sweat trickling down his temple, but he said nothing. He could find no words to respond, not as the weight of what had been revealed pressed down on him.

The boy’s eyes, still shadowed beneath his hood, locked onto the man’s.

There was no smile on his face, yet there was something unsettling about the way he looked at the man, something that didn’t belong on a face so young. It was a look that was far too old, far too experienced, for the boy it was attached to.

“Leave this matter behind,” the boy said quietly, his voice carrying an eerie finality. “He made his choice. Now you must make yours.”

The man’s breath caught in his throat. He glanced around at the villagers, but once more found no help in their faces. Some nodded slowly, others looked away. It was clear to them now—whether they liked it or not, the truth had been spoken. The boy, this…wanderer…wasn’t lying, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. And the man, deep down, knew it too.

Perhaps that was why he couldn’t accept it.

For a long, agonizing moment, the man stood there, caught between denial and the heavy reality settling over him. Then, slowly, with a pained expression, he backed away.

“He was… my friend,” the man muttered again, but his voice was weak, trembling. He turned away, shoulders sagging as he disappeared into the crowd.

The boy watched him go, his eyes following the hunched figure as it faded from view. For a moment, there was silence.

Then, almost to himself, the boy spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, yet clear enough for those closest to hear.

“…A different choice this time.”

He tilted his head slightly, as though considering something unseen, his gaze distant. His expression remained calm, though a flicker of something passed through his eyes.

The villagers, still unnerved by the exchange, glanced at one another, puzzled by his words but too hesitant to ask.

The boy smiled once more, soft, faint and fleeting, as he turned away from the villagers. He said nothing more, leaving them to wonder what he meant as he continued down the path, walking back into the now silent marketplace as if the confrontation had never happened at all.

——

“She must be beautiful,” whispered a small voice.

“Is she kind?” asked another, their soft, lilting tone drifting through the air like a breeze.

“Warm, too?” A third chimed in, fluttering closer to where the boy sat.

Hyrule, seated in the shallow waters of the fairy fountain, barely stirred at their questions. His thin form leaned back against a moss-covered stone, his cloak discarded beside him, revealing how frail and slight he truly had become.

The waters gently lapped against him, cool and clear, while tiny glowing fairies circled above, their curiosity as constant as their light.

“She is,” he murmured, his voice low and calm, answering their questions with a softness that matched the quiet of the fountain.

In his hand, a cloth moved slowly over the blade of his sword, wiping away the dried blood that clung to the steel. The crimson stains mixed with the water, turning it a faint pink before dispersing into nothing.

“And her eyes?” one of the fairies asked, fluttering down to rest near his shoulder, their wings glittering in the soft light of the fountain. “Are they as kind as yours?”

Hyrule’s lips quirked ever so slightly, a faint smile ghosting over his features. “They are… far more kinder.”

The fairies giggled softly at his response, their voices like tinkling bells as they flitted around him, never straying too far from the boy.

But beneath the peaceful scene, there was an unspoken heaviness that lingered in the air—something that clung to him like the blood on his sword, even as he cleaned it away.

“She must be someone very amazing,” one of the fairies whispered, hovering in front of him, their eyes wide and curious. “For you to feel so happy at the thought of her.”

“She is,” he said again, quieter this time. His eyes remained focused on his blade, his movements slow and methodical, as if the task of cleaning the blood from it was all that mattered in the moment.

The fairies, sensing the weight of his thoughts, quieted for a time, simply fluttering around him as he worked. The fountain’s waters shimmered with their light, casting soft reflections on his face, but nothing could soften the sharpness in his eyes.

A sharpness that didn’t belong on someone so young.

Eventually, one of the fairies drifted closer, their tiny voice softer now, hesitant. “Do you ever… rest?”

Hyrule paused, his hand stilling as the last of the blood was wiped clean from his blade. He set the sword down beside him, resting it against the stone, the cloth now stained with the evidence of his earlier fight.

“I do,” he replied softly, leaning his head back to stare up at the sky above, visible through the break in the canopy. “When I can.”

The fairies fluttered around him again, their delicate wings catching the light as they moved. They didn’t press him further, sensing that, for now, the questions down that path had reached their end.

And as Hyrule sat in the waters of the fairy fountain, his eyes distant and his form thin and tired, the quiet companionship of the fairies was all that filled the stillness around him.

One of the fairies flitted closer, their glow bright as they hovered near his face. "Tell us more about her," they asked softly, their voice full of innocent curiosity. "What is she like?"

Hyrule’s eyes softened, the hand resting on his sword going still as he leaned his head back against the stone. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet, reverent, almost worshipful.

“She’s… so incredible,” he began, his tone gentle, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the memory. “Kinder than anyone I’ve ever known. She doesn’t judge, no matter who she meets, or what they’ve been through. There’s this warmth about her—like she carries a light inside, something that draws people in without her even trying.”

The fairies hovered close, their wings slowing as they listened intently, captivated by the way his voice softened when he spoke of her.

“She has this way of smiling,” he continued, eyes drifting closed as he recalled the image of her in his mind. “It’s not just her lips that smile, but her eyes, too. It’s like... she can see through all the darkness and still find something good. She makes you believe in things—hope, love, a future.”

His voice wavered slightly, though his expression remained calm. “She’s very brave, too. So much stronger than she thinks. No matter how hard things get, she never gives up. She keeps going, keeps fighting, even…even when the world feels like it’s falling apart around she…she…”

Hyrule’s lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes still closed as he let himself remember her—the sound of her laughter, the way her presence alone could make the harshest days feel bearable.

For a moment, it felt like she was there, right beside him.

That the tragedies that had happened ceased to exist.

But when he finally opened his eyes, that smile faltered. The fairies were still there, their soft glow reflecting in the water, but she was not.

The sadness crept into his gaze, and his smile turned hollow as the weight of reality settled in. She wasn’t there. Not in this moment. Not in this place.

“She’s not here,” he murmured, more to himself than to the fairies. His voice was still soft, still gentle, but there was a deep ache hidden beneath those words.

“Oh to be young and in love…”

The Great Fairy glided toward Hyrule, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she observed him resting in the water. Her gaze lingered on his face, soft yet intense as he cleaned his blade, the blood from battle slowly fading away. Her voice, as gentle as a breeze, curled around him like a caress.

“It’s rare, little halfling,” she said, her smile warm, “to see someone so completely in love. Your heart sings for her in a way that most mortals can only dream of.”

Hyrule looked up, his expression calm and peaceful. He paused in his movements, letting the cloth hang loosely in his hand as he met her gaze. “She’s… everything,” he whispered, his tone reverent. “More than anyone could ever be. She’s kind, strong, beautiful. There’s nothing she lacks because even what she considers an flaw is perfect to me.”

The Great Fairy hummed, circling him slowly, her fairies fluttering around him with excitement, their tiny lights dancing in celebration of his devotion. “She sounds like the perfect mate,” the Great Fairy mused, her voice dipping into a playful tone. “Someone worthy of such fierce love and loyalty.”

Hyrule’s smile softened, “She is. And I’ll make sure she knows it every day.” His eyes brightening, I never want to give her a reason to hate me. When we reunite, she’ll be so loved, so cared for, that the thought of leaving won’t even cross her mind.”

The Great Fairy tilted her head, observing him with interest, but not an ounce of concern. Where humans would have been unnerved by his intensity, to the fae, such passion was only natural. The fairies swirled around him in delight, their wings buzzing as they echoed the Great Fairy’s sentiments. “A perfect mate,” they sang in unison, giggling in the air.

They swirled around him, their excitement clear. “Introduce her to us!” one of them chimed, their tiny voices buzzing around him. “We want to meet her!”

Another chimed in, “She must be so lovely! So kind!”

Hyrule’s expression softened, his gaze turning inward as he thought of (y/n). “She is... more than lovely. She’s warm, gentle. She’s strong, even when she doesn’t realize it. When she smiles... it’s like the sun after a storm.”

His voice grew quieter, reverent, as though speaking of her was akin to prayer. The fairies fluttered in close, their excitement building as he continued.

“She doesn’t know how special she is,” he added softly, closing his eyes as if savoring the image of her in his mind. “But I do. I’ll never let her feel unwanted or alone. I’ll always be there, making sure she’s safe. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her by my side.”

The Great Fairy leaned in closer, her tone teasing but gentle. “Such devotion… it’s admirable, little halfling. Perhaps you’ll truly bring her here one day, so we can meet this girl who has captured your heart so completely?”

Hyrule’s smile grew as he closed his eyes, as though he could see (y/n) standing before him in that very moment. “Of course I will,” he said softly, opening his eyes again, though the faint sadness lingered when she wasn’t truly there. “You’ll love her, I know you will. She deserves to meet you, and you deserve to meet someone so… perfect.”

The Great Fairy’s eyes sparkled with amusement, her voice coy. “And what of your sword brothers? From what you’ve spoke, their desires are the same as yours. They, too, wish to claim her heart, don’t they?”

Hyrule’s peaceful expression didn’t falter, “They do. And I understand that. I’m willing to share a place in her heart, as long as they’ve learned their lesson. We all want the same thing, after all—her happiness.”

The Great Fairy chuckled, a sound like chiming bells, full of mischief and curiosity. “But, little one, what would you do if they haven’t learned? If they were to stand in your way?”

Hyrule’s eyes gleamed, his smile gentle but his words weren’t, “If they haven’t learned… I’ll slaughter them. Every single one. And I’ll protect her on my own.” He said so easily, so casually, like talking about the weather.

The Great Fairy threw her head back and laughed, her voice exuberant and full of joy. Her fairies mirrored her glee, spinning and fluttering in the air in a celebratory dance, their wings glowing brighter as they reveled in the intensity of their great mother’s happiness. To them, Hyrule’s devotion was nothing but pure, powerful, and natural.

“Ah, such love!” the Great Fairy exclaimed, her eyes alight with delight. “It’s been far too long since I’ve seen a love like yours, little halfling. A love that burns with such beautiful, sublime passion.”

The fairies circled around him, their voices giggling and singing as they celebrated his devotion, as though his words were a promise of something sacred. And to the fae, it was.

“Introduce her to us!” they begged, their voices filled with excitement.

Hyrule chuckled softly, his expression serene as he nodded. “I will, little sisters. It’s only natural to introduce someone as incredible as her to my family. One day. You’ll see just like I did…she’s perfect.”

The Great Fairy reached out, her fingers gently brushing against his cheek in a gesture of affection. “We look forward to it, little one. We’ll be waiting eagerly to celebrate your eventual union with such an amazing soul!”

And with that, the fairies continued their joyful flight around him, giggling and cheering louder at the future where they would meet her, while Hyrule sat by the fountain waters at peace, sword forgotten beside him, lost in thoughts of her, his smile soft, though touched by a quiet darkness.

——

Hyrule leaned against a tree by the edge of the forest, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.

Rain poured down, soaking his clothes and matting his hair to his forehead, droplets of water streaming down his face. His sword hung loosely from his hand, the blade gleaming dully in the gray light, dripping with rain and something darker.

The river rushed nearby, its waters swollen from the storm, roaring in the quiet of the evening.

He glanced down at his soaked clothes, water pooling around his boots, but he paid little attention to the discomfort.

The rain masked everything—his exhaustion, the faint ache in his limbs, even the weight of his thoughts. But it couldn’t wash away the simmering feelings just beneath the surface.

The sound of the rushing river mixed with the steady downpour, the constant hum of the forest alive around him despite the storm.

He tilted his head back, feeling the rain on his face, his eyes half-lidded in thought.

Everything had felt strange since he had woken up in the past, as though he was constantly walking through a dream he could never quite escape.

“I miss them,” he murmured, his voice carrying only as far as the tree he leaned against. “My brothers…the only ones who I felt safe with…for so long... And yet…” His lips curved upward, a smile too soft for the words that followed. “Sometimes, I dream of stealing her away…to punish them… for their failure to keep her safe.”

He laughed lightly, as if the thought were as harmless as the falling rain, warm despite the darkness that laced his words.

“It’s strange,” he murmured into the storm, his voice barely louder than the patter of rain on leaves. “How everything’s felt… off.” His words were soft, but they carried an unsettling warmth, as if these thoughts were nothing out of the ordinary.

Hyrule tilted his head back, eyes closing briefly as he let the rain run over his face.

His eyes fluttered open, and there was a softness in his gaze, a calmness that made the words all the more disturbing. “But… I understand now. It’s over. What happened in that time is done, and I can’t change it. All I can do is make up for my failures and create newer memories...”

He pushed himself off the tree and took a few steps toward the riverbank, the rain still pouring down. “And when we’re all together again, it’ll be perfect. We’ll savor our reunion with her.”

There was a pause, as if he was savoring the thought, before he continued, almost as if speaking to the river itself. “But first, I need to clear this land of threats as best as i can. Gather enough wealth…Build a place that’s safe for her. I have to be ready. We all do.”

The rain fell freely from the darkened skies above, the evening air thick with moisture.

His voice, soft and wistful, carried through the trees, but it wasn’t clear who he was speaking to.

“Yet I can’t help but acknowledge how much it’s been quite the experience…walking a similar yet different path..”

Hyrule's voice echoed softly through the night, his tone distant, almost thoughtful.

“Ever since I woke up in the past, everything has felt... off. Like the world’s just a little tilted. Nothing feels right, but I suppose it’s what happens when you’re given another chance.”

He sighed softly, his words warm despite the unsettling nature of his thoughts.

“And still as much as i want to reunite with them, i still wish to hurt them too..”

He shifted his weight slightly, eyes distant as he spoke to the figure before him, “To wrap my hands around the handle go my blade and cut them down as they cry out in pain….To make them pay for failing to protect her, for letting her be taken from us. But, it’s not hate, not really.”

His voice carried a calm warmth that made the words unsettling. He spoke as if discussing a pleasant memory, not something so dark and twisted. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Wanting to hurt them but still loving them. I could never hate them forever. It simply wasn’t entirely their fault, after all.”

Hyrule let out a small sigh, almost wistful. “But I did truly hate them for a while. I hated them for not being strong enough, for not being fast enough... for not being better and keeping her safe.” He chuckled softly, as if the thought amused him. “But now, that time has passed and reversed, erased except the memories I hold… It’s not just their fault we failed. It’s mine as well. And I’ll make up for it.”

He hummed.

“But that’s natural, isn’t it? Wanting to punish them… To punish myself, for failing her.” He chuckled lightly, almost as if he were reminiscing about fond memories. “I hated them for a while. For a long while, actually. But it’s all over now. I know that. I understand that, and I have to atone for my own failures.”

He tilted his head slightly, staring off into the dark, rain-slicked forest as if imagining something far away. “When we find her again, everything will be different. We’ll savor every moment of our reunion, all of us together again. She’ll be safe with us. And it’ll be... perfect.”

Hyrule’s expression darkened, though the gentle smile on his face remained. “But before that, I have to finish things here. I need to clear out every threat in this place, amass enough wealth to give her a safe life, to build something beautiful amidst all this cursed and poisoned land. A place where she can live peacefully. A place where my sword brothers and I can keep her safe.”

He sighed, finally lowering his gaze to the figure at his feet. The rain had formed a pool around the man, blood mixing with the water, his body slumped against the roots of an old tree. His eyes, wide and filled with terror, locked onto Hyrule’s as he listened helplessly.

“I need to make sure that I’m ready for her. Ready for all of us to reunite…”

Hyrule crouched down, his eyes soft, almost regretful as he looked at the man. “Funny, isn’t it? You walked away from me in the market that day, made a different choice than last time. But it seems some things are inevitable… this little scene between us is happening sooner rather than later.”

He shook his head, amused. “Seems some things never change,” Hyrule said softly, almost regretfully. “You made a different choice again. Last time, you tried to burn me alive. Now, you pushed me toward rushing water. It’s a shame… I thought I might have more time before this.”

The man’s eyes flickered, desperate, but no words came. Hyrule’s smile was gentle as he crouched down beside him, the rain dripping from his hair. “I mean… to use you as another way to bond with my sword brothers…but I suppose we can’t always get what we want.”

He reached out, touching the man’s wet cheek in a gesture that seemed almost compassionate. “I can only hope we can bond over another tainted soul.” Hyrule sighed sadly, his voice soft with genuine regret.

“I really was hoping to do this again with the others. It was such a lovely bonding experience that time...”

The man tried to respond, but all that came out was a garbled, pathetic sound—his severed tongue preventing any real words. Hyrule gave him a pitying look, then slowly unsheathed his sword.

With one swift, clean motion, he cut off the man’s head, watching for several moments as his eyes fluttered, his face twitching until there was no movement left.

Hyrule waited for a long moment, staring into the lifeless eyes of the man, almost as if searching for something.

When there was nothing left to see, Hyrule stood up, sheathing his blade once more.

As Hyrule turned to leave, his gaze fell on a crown of flowers lying discarded in the mud, half-crushed by the struggle. The delicate petals were wilted, the once vibrant colors dulled by the rain and dirt.

He had been working on it when the man from the market snuck up on him.

He knelt beside it, picking up the ruined crown with gentle fingers, his eyes softening as a memory stirred.

He could almost see her, in that memory sitting in front of him, laughing as she showed him how to weave the flowers together, her hands guiding his clumsy attempts with infinite patience.

The warmth in her eyes, the sound of her voice—he had cherished every second of it. And now, this small, fragile thing, this crown, had been ruined.

It had been so long since he made one…

He had assumed she would always be there to re-teach him…

A deep sadness filled him, his heart aching as he held the crushed flowers. "She spent so much time teaching me," he whispered softly, his voice barely audible over the rain. "And now it’s ruined… he ruined it." His fingers tightened slightly around the crown, but not enough to damage it further.

As Hyrule pocketed the ruined flower crown, his steps slowed, his thoughts swirling with the same intensity as the fairies around him.

The rain drummed a steady rhythm on the leaves overhead, but his mind was elsewhere—drifting back to the quiet afternoons with her, back when things felt simpler. He could almost feel her hands guiding his as he fumbled with the stems, hear the soft way she teased him when he struggled to braid them just right.

His heart clenched at the thought. "I’ll make her another," he thought, trying to push away the sadness creeping in. But the moment was gone, ruined by the man lying lifeless in the mud. "If only he hadn’t tried to stop me," Hyrule mused. "I could’ve remembered everything clearly... made it perfect for her."

His gaze flicked back to the body, the severed tongue, the empty, lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

Hyrule sighed, the heaviness in his chest growing. "I wanted to remember every detail, for her." His fingers brushed against the flower crown in his pocket, fragile and ruined, much like the memory it had been tied to. "I’ll make up for it. For everything."

The fairies' laughter danced around him, pulling him from his thoughts, and he straightened. "For her… I'll make it all perfect," he promised silently, his eyes narrowing as he left the body behind.

The fairies flitted around him, their soft glow casting a faint light over his rain-soaked form. They giggled and chimed, but there was no malice in their joy.

He cast one last glance at the man’s lifeless body, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he turned and began to walk away, leaving the corpse where it laid as he walked back into the storm.

The fairies’ chimes danced in the air as they continued to follow and swirl around him in delight, their soft laughter filling the air as the rain fell heavier, blending with the sound of the wind, rushing water and rustling leaves.

#I would have gotten this one out sooner but Four demanded I only focus on his gremlin attitude #yandere linked universe #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #yandere lu #Sue me i love half-fae Rulie!#ttau #timeline two au #lu hyrule #linked universe hyrule #gliphy writes

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syndrossi · 13 days ago

Text

Resonant Trick or Treat Fill #14: Ser Kelwyn's first impressions

The sight of a dragon flying overhead was rare. In all his years in the Saltpans, Kelwyn could recall half a dozen such flights, each of them humbling to behold. The first two had been the king and queen’s mounts, bronze and silver, some three decades ago. Another two had passed overhead years later, Prince Aemon and Prince Baelon, with the famed Vhagar casting a shadow wide enough to swallow entire houses. Prince Aemon’s mount, the much smaller Caraxes, had seemed a child in comparison.

All dragon sightings since had been the Blood Wyrm, his size growing with the years, though his rider had changed. With Prince Daemon wed to Lady Royce of Runestone, it was not so surprising that his path might occasionally cross over the Saltpans.

This time, however, the Blood Wyrm approached from the northwest, circling slowly. And sharp-eyed guardsmen atop the towers of the Castle Cox had reported signs of smoke—then a small group approaching on foot.

Lord Cox was a canny man who had done much to improve his family’s standing since his father had earned his title supporting King Jaehaerys against Maegor the Cruel. He had swiftly concluded that Prince Daemon must be on foot, perhaps wounded, with company—and the household had set a frenetic pace making preparations for his expected arrival.

And so Kelwyn had been summoned to meet the prince on the road, along with young Ser Stennic, to render any necessary aid. They rode at a brisk pace, Stennic’s neck craning upward every few seconds to take in the dragon flying overhead. Kelwyn did not blame him. They were closer to the dragon than most men would ever be in their lifetime.

As they drew closer to the group on foot, it became clear that Prince Daemon was in the company of children, and Kelwyn wracked his memory for whether the prince had any of his own. He did not think so, but with the way the sun glinted pale silver off the crown of one child’s head, he was beginning to doubt himself.

The other child was injured, he soon realized, the cloth of a splint light against his arm. Prince Daemon was clearly keeping his pace slow so as not to tax the child. Kelwyn glanced past them, to the smoke in the distance.

What happened? Who would dare attack a Targaryen child, much less with his father’s dragon nearby?

When he and Stennic were finally upon them, it was clear that something truly harrowing had transpired. Both children were pale and wary-eyed beneath streaks of soot, their clothing burned in places, though they appeared to have escaped any burns themselves. The dark-haired child’s expression tugged at his heart, one of determination worn thin by pain, the clench of his jaw better suited to a wounded soldier than an innocent child.

Prince Daemon, meanwhile, had the bearing of a man nearing some threshold. One arm held a cloth-wrapped bundle, while his free hand hovered near the hilt of his sword, as though he might draw upon any who drew too close. His hair, even braided, was dull and tangled, suggesting that he had been on the road—or air, Kelwyn supposed—for days on end, without stopping.

Whatever had happened, this would require a delicate touch.

“My prince,” Kelwyn said with a bow from atop his horse. “Lord Cox bids you welcome to the Saltpans, and eagerly extends the hospitality of his keep to you.”

Prince Daemon looked them over, some of that tension easing, though not wholly. “A traitor to the crown rode in this direction, by name of Marten Crayne,” he said tersely. “He kidnapped my sons and fled at my approach. If he has entered the town, I would have him arrested.” He looked toward the pale-haired child. “Can you describe the man?”

A kidnapping? Kelwyn quickly gathered his reeling wits at the revelation, though he was freshly caught off guard by the young prince’s comprehensive description, rattled off with a composure many grown knights would envy. And that after having been rescued from captivity!

Stennic hastened back to the town to carry word of the fleeing kidnapper and his ship. Kelwyn remained behind, unwilling to leave their three unexpected royal guests unguarded after so heinous a plot. Prince Daemon remained on edge, even as he detailed his needs. Kelwyn knew Lord Cox would already be preparing appropriate chambers, and the maester could be spurred into action as soon as they arrived.

They were still fifteen minutes away on foot, and Prince Daemon had turned down his offer to lend him his horse. His elder son, Jon, had suffered broken ribs during his captivity and could not ride.

So that is why he is not on dragonback. Kelwyn looked up at the red dragon overhead, flying vigilant circles around them. He shook his head then. What lowlife would strike a royal child hard enough to crack ribs?

His offer to take the other child, Raymar, was also refused. Raymar did not appear injured, but the mere suggestion had caused Prince Daemon to reach for the child instinctively. The tale emerged during the walk to town, of the week the young princes had spent as captives of this Marten Crayne, and Prince Daemon’s frantic search from the air.

Thank the gods they were not taken from the Saltpans. Whichever lord had been careless enough in his guard to allow the boys to be taken would surely find himself the target of the king’s displeasure.

The children spoke little after Raymar’s lengthy report, their exhaustion plain. Kelwyn hoped they had suffered no other indignities at the hands of their kidnapper. He would have expected tears and whimpers at the end of such an ordeal, not this eerie, stoic silence.

Kelwyn would have dismissed it as Targaryen strangeness, except that Prince Daemon seemed worried as well, filling the quiet with soothing words, promises of a warm meal and a hot bath, a soft bed. That his voice could be so gentle when his eyes held murder was a feat in itself.

When word arrived that the Dancing Myr had fled ahead of word arriving to detain them, Prince Daemon’s jaw clenched, as though he were swallowing a scream. Overhead, his dragon let out a threatening roar, audible even within the walls of the castle.

Kelwyn found himself in the role of chosen protector, tasked with finding three other worthy souls to stand vigil outside Lady Cox’s former bedchamber. He caught only glimpses of the young princes, the most startling one when the bundle Raymar had carried in his arms throughout the walk, which had been partly obscured by cloth, had been unwrapped to reveal a dragon egg, which Prince Daemon had helped him set beside the fire. And not just one—there was another that must have been what Prince Daemon had been holding in his other arm.

A royal kidnapping, a dragon rescue, and now Castle Cox plays host to three princes and two dragon eggs. It was as though he had stumbled into a minstrel’s song, and Kelwyn had the feeling that the intrigues would not stop there, which meant that his protection would have to extend beyond merely the physical. The attacks on incoming ravens took on a sinister new implication.

The children may not have been kidnapped from here, but we were almost certainly the kidnapper’s intended destination to spirit them away by ship.

Lord Cox’s page was kept busy all throughout the evening as Kelwyn coordinated the search for the fleeing ship, along with any sailors who might have remained behind, while keeping half an eye on the door to the room, which saw servants passing through frequently early on as their royal visitors were fed, then provided baths.

Kelwyn looked in at one point, after the bath water had been lugged away from the large tub, and immediately found himself fixed by a wild stare from Prince Daemon, who had moved a chair near the doorway to set up a watch of his own.

“Is there anything you require, my prince?” Kelwyn asked, keeping his voice low. Glancing past the prince, he could see the two children settled into one of the beds, the blankets pulled up over them. And his gaze could not help but be drawn to the oval shapes of the dragon eggs, dark in front of the fire.

“I shall keep watch from within,” Prince Daemon said, settling back in his chair. His hair was still wild and tangled. He must not have availed himself of the bath. And although he had washed his face, it only made clearer the lines of weariness, the shadows beneath his eyes.

His nerves balance upon the edge of a knife.

From what the prince had shared after supper, it was little wonder. Kelwyn could still scarcely believe that Lady Royce, renowned for her honor and justice, could have carried out such a bold treason. She had not even hidden her children far from where anyone would look—they had been passed off as her own nephews, orphans at the Gates of the Moon.

The king’s brother had lost his wife and learned that he was a father and that his sons had been kidnapped all in a single day. By the looks of it, he had hardly slept since. And after such tireless searching, to find that they had been mistreated so…

“We shall let no one through this door,” Kelwyn said, bowing his head.

The words barely seemed to reach Prince Daemon, only a slow nod confirming he had heard them at all, and Kelwyn drew the door to a gentle close.

#resonant trick or treat #resonant trick or treat fills

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rosieofcorona · 5 months ago

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In the Blue Morning

Sharing this gentle little fic here again since the Solavellan girlies (genderless) are so back!!! In my mind I am sliding this across the table to you all. Also on Ao3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading! 💕

She cajoles him, some mornings, away from his office, from his maps and his books and his paintings and out among the newly-planted gardens, all their tight, unfurling blooms.

It’s always empty at this hour, when most of Skyhold is still asleep, save for the guards in their high towers, the recruits in the practice yard. The only sound is the clang of their swords through the mist like distant bells, the only light the pink and gold of the nascent sun.

They have been careful, desperately careful not to draw undue attention, not to generate rumors that could harm the Inquisition in the future. It is easier on the road to find a quiet moment alone– to steal a kiss or hold a hand or put words to their love– but the castle, however safe, is full of eyes, forever watching.

It is only in the narrow, muted hours before dawn that Solas weaves his fingers with hers as they orbit the courtyard, side by side.

He names the blossoms as they pass, first in the trade tongue and then in Elvish, the softened syllables like music on his tongue. She repeats them half as gracefully, but he smiles at every attempt, correcting her gently now and again, praising her efforts.

“Gail’lealis,” he says, pointing out an elegant bellflower, its blue-white petals bundled tightly in green sepals.

It sounds off, even to her ear, when she says, “ Ga’lealis,” back.

They pause for a moment, and Solas turns and bends and plucks an early bloom from the same plant, rotating it slowly between his fingers, holding it up for examination.

“Ga-il,” he repeats softly, separating the sounds. “Meaning ‘bell,’ in the common parlance.”

“Ga-il,” she says again, correctly this time.

“Followed by lealis , meaning ‘glass.’”

“Gail’lealis.”

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, tucking the flower behind her ear, the meaning vague yet all-encompassing. It is all beautiful– the morning, the garden, how she catches the light, his ancient language in her mouth, her mouth–

Solas kisses her in the empty courtyard, parts her lips with a linguist’s tongue, and she kisses him back again and again as if each time might be the last. He wants to stay like this forever, wants the sun to forget to rise, wants the castle to sleep and sleep in an endless dream.

But the light keeps coming, every moment. The castle will wake, and they will see.

And this will cost them, in the end.

She is pink as the sky when they finally come apart, and continue their long walk around.

“I hear you were out here yesterday,” she says, breaking the silence as they turn a corner. “Cullen says you beat him soundly at chess.”

“It was a closer game than he thinks,” Solas says, but she has learned when he’s just being modest.

“Must not have been that close, because Bull says the same. As do Blackwall, and Varric, and Dorian, though he swears that you cheated.” “I did no such thing!”

When they turn again, the chessboard in question comes into full view, set and waiting on its table beneath an awning.

“He seemed very certain,” she shrugs. “Though I suppose I could find out for myself.”

They stop again before the table, and Solas looks at her intently. “Is that a challenge, dear Inquisitor?”

“That depends on your level of skill.”

She’s teasing him now, enticing him, a dynamic he’s come to enjoy. There are so few who impress him with thoughtfulness, who make him work at being clever.

“Very well, but you should know that I am merciless,” he warns, a contradiction to the chivalry of pulling out her chair. “Even to one I love.”

He takes the seat opposite her, the board and the pieces adorned in glittering dew.

“I believe the Lady Inquisitor moves first.”

He sets a dozen little traps for her, a dozen clever gambits, and she evades them every time, to his astonishment. Where he moves to attack, she counters; where he baits her, she defends or retreats. By the end, with the sun fully risen overhead, they reach a deadlock, both depleted, neither victorious.

“Again?” She asks cheerfully, when they’ve finished. Already she is freeing her captives from his end of the table. “Don’t look so stunned, my love. Unless you’re trying to offend me.”

“Forgive me, vhenan,” he says, shaking his head. “You surprise me as always. It is rare to find an opponent so…discerning.”

His beloved laughs with the morning breeze, a sound like air that surrounds and envelops him.

“Rare to find one you can’t beat, you mean.”

She’s right, of course– it is rare that he loses, even rarer that he plays against someone so evenly matched. He still can’t quite puzzle through it, where he went wrong, where she figured him out.

He had gotten a lead on her early on, or so he thought– he had taken a tower, a mage, and two pawns– and left his queen open for the taking, which she had entirely ignored. She caught onto him quickly, though too late to win, and when she realized she couldn’t beat him, she had blocked him instead.

Solas leans thoughtfully back in his chair, replaying their game in his mind. No matter how he tries to beat her, he finds no way through. She sees his scheming, sees him coming, cuts him off.

“Why did you not take my queen, given the chance?”

“Because you gave me the chance,” she reasons. “You wouldn’t do that except to win.”

“It could have been a tactical error.” “It wasn’t,” she says assuredly, resetting the pieces along their battle lines. “If I had taken her, it would have left my king undefended from your mages.” “You could have moved him.” “For a turn or two. Then your knight would have circled back. Isn’t that right?” She looks up at Solas, her eyes smiling and sharp, affirmed in her answer already. “Or shall we call that a ‘tactical error?’”

“Mm,” Solas nods his approval. “You’ve become quite the strategist. Have you been spending time with our Commander?”

“I’ve been spending time with you,” she counters. “Learning all your little tricks.”

Not all, it occurs to him, but Solas smothers the thought with a laugh. “It seems to me you have a few of your own.”

“Our Keeper used to call me harellan,” she tells him. “Trickster. Though I needn’t explain that to you.”

He fights to keep the easy expression on his face, feeling suddenly caught in the snare of her gaze, as if she sees directly through him, sees him fully, all he is.

Harellan, his mind echoes. How could she know?

The wait for her judgment feels infinite, inevitable– but it does not come, and does not come, and does not come. She only moves a white pawn toward the board’s center, the leaves rustling softly around them.

No, he decides. She does not know. She only means he knows the word.

Solas mirrors her opening move, their pawns face to face on the battlefield. “And still, your Keeper named you her First.”

“I was more troublesome as a child,” she says, with a grin that implies that the mischief has never left her. “I’ve settled down a great deal since. Can’t you tell?”

This time, when Solas laughs, there is nothing else hiding beneath it. No uneasy feeling, no great fear that she will discover him, cast him out. There is only happiness for a moment, the war reduced to a board between them, as if sorrow and death are nowhere, and the end of the world is far away.

#solavellan #solas x inquisitor #solas x lavellan #solas fanfic #my fic #solasmance #solas dragon age #solas #fen'harel #the dread wolf rises #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age trespasser #dragon age dreadwolf #dreadwolf #dragon age fanfic

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aryamistwood · 4 months ago

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Erissa's Dolls (ALL LOCATIONS)

SPOILER'S AHEAD! If you don't want any hints about today's story update, keep scrolling! If you need help, well, keep reading!

There is no particular order you need to collect these, but I've tried to group them in a way that makes a decent path if you want to repeat collecting them daily

SOUTH HOOF

The Life Warden Tree

MOORLAND

Doyle's Abby

Pyramid Runestone at Camp Jorvik

Mrs. Holdsworth's house outside the left fence

NILMER'S HIGHLAND

By the Circus tent

EPONA

The path leading to Guardian's Dale, just before the campfire

Side of the road by Old Dew's Farm going towards Mirror Marshes where we faced off against the Dark Riders and Anne opened the portal

Near the Sunflowers going towards Fort Maria Library

JORVIK STABLES

In the sunflower field where Erissa attacked Maya

FORGOTTEN FIELDS

The NEW Life Warden Tree

GOLDENLEAVES/HILLS

The gate to Pi's Swamp

SILVERGLADE

By the castle

VALEDALE

Along the Silversong River where we opened the blackholes with Anne

Outside the Secret Stone Circle

VALLEY OF THE HIDDEN DINOSAUR

At the path blocker to Ashland

WILDWOODS

At the Sentinel Tree (Erissa's Prison)

#sso #ssoblr #star stable online #star stable #star stable spoilers #sso spoilers #spoilers #sso guide #sso erissa #sso erissa doll

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squirrellypoo · 6 months ago

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Ep8 "What Can The Damned Really Say To The Damned" rewatch thoughts (Part 2)

Here's my second set of things I noticed on my third rewatch! Part 1 is here if you missed it...

11. On Claudia's first visit to the forest, we can briefly see a red mark on one of the trees. When brightened up, it's clearly a handprint, in fresh blood. Edit: ah, it’s not blood but paint from the kids painting their hands and slapping trees to show how far they could go into the forest!

12. I totally missed that the BBC radio bulletin talks about looted art being loaded onto trucks to be taken back to Paris! So that’s how they knew to jump in a truck and be taken all the way there rather than just random hitch-hiking.

13. Morgan mentions that Louis's photo of Grace was printed onto albumen, by a glass-plate camera, and I was intrigued by this and wanted to learn more. If you're also interested, have a read of this Wikipedia article.

14. I thought I must've been missing some sort of reference in Daniel's “Maybe you’re just frosting the pie?” line (about Louis remembering Claudia dreaming), but Google has no evidence this is a saying? So it looks like this was just a Daniel-ism? How odd.

15. Ohhhhh it's a factory they're all camping in! That makes sense, with the thick walls and boiler room, but I couldn't quite work out whether it was a church or meeting hall or what.

16. Claudia is singing the Anna Anna nursery rhyme that the children just taught her in order to lure the pissing soldier into the woods. Nice touch!

17. Both soldiers from the woods are in Daciana's castle. First we see one in the room that Louis and Claudia pass through before the one on the table by the fire that she calls “a burnt tray of bread”. Guess this first guy just dies after a while? Or maybe Louis and Claudia finish him off?

18. In the Dubai bedroom, there’s nothing on Armand’s bedside table (nothing!) but on Louis’s side there are so many well-thumbed books, cascading from the nightstand onto the floor…

19. The TdV programme is for “Des Cris Dans Les Ténèbres!” (Shrieks in the Darkness). I love that the actual item is in French, but the posters up all around Paris are in English, because Louis would’ve translated them into English and that’s how he remembered them! The details! 🤌

20. In the truck scene, Louis is still healing from Daciana’s attack. It made me wonder how long it would take to drive (pre-motorways!) from Romania to Paris. So I looked it up, and using modern roads, but avoiding motorways, it'd take 31hrs straight. But they’d have to break to sleep somewhere safe in the day, and many of the roads and bridges would likely have been bombed and required detours, so I think we can assume it'd take several days to get there. So if Louis still isn't healed by the time we see them outside Paris, he is one seriously malnourished vampire. 😔 The blood really was bad there!

And that's my list of weird things I noticed in the first episode! Part 1 is here if you missed it, and do let me know in the notes if there's any of these you missed, too!

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #iwtv s2 #iwtv spoilers #louis de pointe du lac #claudia de pointe du lac #the vampire armand #daniel molloy

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stealingyourbones · 1 year ago

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Submitted Prompts #130

*hands over a particularly shiny pebble I found on the side of the road and polished, in the style of a magpie gifting ther favorite human the One Pebble That is The Most Special, along with a sea urchin shell I found on the beach* I had a sudden idea!!!!

So, I've been reading some fics of Danny being married to the Core of the Realms (we need more of those, btw, they're really good).

And a student thought hit me:

As a halfa, Danny can easily go between dimensions, much more easily than the Ghosts. And the Core can't leave the Realms at all.

So they hitch a ride on their husband's shadow whenever he goes out into the world of the Living, so they can remain in the Realms but send a part of their consciousness with him. Naturally, this means a lot of movie dates, and walks along the woods and all kinds of dates between them (the position might've been kinda forced on them both at first "for the sake of Balance", but as they came to know each other better, the relationship developed, and it didn't just blossom. It grew exponentially, exploding like fireworks, until the most common gossip in the Castle was how much the King and the Core loved each other, and how they spent most of the time either curled up with each other, or giggling like teenagers in love).

One such date nights was a viewing of The Princess and The Frog movie.

Now, with his voice having grow deeper as adulthood caught up to him, and having shot up like beanstalks, plus having a spouse that looked mostly like shadows and smoke, of course Danny would go around quoting Dr Facilier's lines, and the Core acted out the part of the Shadow.

It was all so fun, neither could help it.

Too bad the resident Bats didn't think it so fun to watch some lanky fucker stroll the streets of Gotham at night, quoting lines from a very recognizable movie villain, while seemingly projecting his own shadow into existence, then opening a neon green portal and strolling through it while holding his shadow's arm and flirting with it.

Constantine almost had 10 different heart attacks that night when Batman called him and Zatanna to ask about the Shadow Man, who just so happened to be the goddamn King of the Infinite Realms. The shadow was new, there was nothing about such entities in their files. Although, when asked the next day, Captain Marvel seemed to sweat as the gods in my head seemed to all die a second time, this time of fright, as they realized the Core of the Realms had latched onto a new King and seemed to be in love with the guy, where before they'd despised Pariah Dark and refused his presence anywhere near them, thus throwing the Realms into a slow decline.

Well, at least it appeared THAT situation had gotten fixed at some point while they were on Earth with their son Billy.

#dpxdc #bones submissions #Danny can have an androgynous shadow as his spouse #as a treat #i can see him looking at the Ancients gathered to officiate the ritual #and going #'I'm already here least i can do is commit to it'#'how about dinner at 7?'#and he tries so hard to be a good husband #even if it feels slightly like an arranged marriage #that he got the innermost part of the Realms #their quintessential consciousness #to truly fall in love #the Realms change with the Core's emotions #when they realized they were in love the entire place lit up pink and lavender #and everyone heard the scream of a teenager with a crush

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boatboysrowout · 2 years ago

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i am So Very Interested in the burger king vs mcdonalds au if you're willing to share more 👁️👁️

i'm so glad you asked

it's all grian's fault, of course. 'it'll be great if all my friends got a summer job around the same place!' he said. 'it'll be fun hanging out on our lunch breaks!' he said. 'this is a genius idea, nothing will go wrong!' he said.

it goes wrong in less than a day.

it all starts with scar's job application getting rejected from burger king. he takes this very personally, as the man who interviews him is grian's friend who had just been hired the day before, and scar had been assured he would get an easy in. ren, however, didn't like how many questions scar was asking about their ice cream machine and where their security cameras were placed.

so out scar goes, sulking his way through a successful interview to work at the white castle down the road, joining bdubs and cleo. the rest of grians friends end up scattered in shops around the two restaurants with varying degrees of satisfaction with their summer jobs.

grian, as he is wont to do, waffles around a bit before committing to a job. he's pretty sure he's going to join bigb at the library, but before he decides, he goes to pay scar a visit to make sure he's still not sulking about the burger king fiasco.

that, too, is a mistake.

grian doesn't know what happened. he swears he just meant to stop in and say hi. and maybe play a little prank! just a funny little joke! only he didn't realize how much hair spray bdubs uses and how flammable that made his hair, and really, how could grian have known that the second after he fled the scene of his crime, scar would walk in at the exact wrong moment holding a lighter, making him look like the guiltiest motherfucker on earth?

it's absolutely not his fault.

but.

now scar is out of a job again, and he's gotten it in his head that the only way to get his revenge on ren is to work at the mcdonalds across the street from the burger king and, to quote scar, "make him regret not taking my offer." and listen. this is the third job scar's had in two days. it kind of feels a little bit like grian's responsibility to make sure he doesn't get fired from this one too. but it'll be fine. what else could go wrong?

so much. so, so much.

scar almost immediately goes off the rails. he creates his own customer rewards program in which he refuses to serve a customer if they don't pledge their undying loyalty to the mcdonalds in exchange for scar certified McReputation points. this somehow is remarkably successful despite grain's repeated warnings that this is a scam- scar pulls some strings and grian is forced into kitchen duty after he tries to warn one too many customers. martyn and ren catch word of this and try institute a similar program, albeit to a much less successful degree. scar, however, cannot let that stand.

grian also cannot let that stand, but this is more due to martyn coming over every day during his lunch break and annoying grian by telling increasingly convoluted jokes all ending with a punchline relating to the mcdonald's broken ice cream machine.

so that afternoon grian and scar pay the burger king a visit. scar goes up to the front counter and gives ren and martyn the longest sales pitch of his life, something about cereal, and while they're distracted grain climbs through the drive through window and smashes their ice cream machine with a baseball bat.

that's the beginning of the end.

ren takes the attack way too personally. he gets naked, makes martyn crown him with a shitty cardboard crown, dubs himself the burger king, and declares war on the mcdonalds.

he and martyn set out to recruit for their army amongst the rest of their friends in the area to varying degrees of success. they first go to visit joel in his art shop, but quickly decide to leave after the first thing they hear upon walking in is a conversation in the back room in which someone appears to be blackmailing joel over something in the basement.

they decide to try impulse and tango down at the arcade, and both of them are so confused by ren's sales pitch they just agree to make him go away (they do the same thing when scar and grian visit them a few hours later).

ren and martyn's visit to the white castle is the worst yet. instead of walking in and recruiting bdubs and cleo with their impassioned speech and thirst for justice, the burger king and his hand walk into an active warzone.

there's smoke everywhere. bdubs is screaming. martyn swears he hears a gun go off. cleo is cackling. someone runs past them entirely engulfed in flames. as ren and martyn make a hasty retreat etho cheerfully greets them from his seat on a bench outside the building, tinkering with something that looks suspiciously like a pipe bomb.

they decide to take a break from recruiting after that.

meanwhile, scar and grian have been busy. they've recruited jimmy and scott from the florists down the road to launch a yelp smear campaign against the burger king, tanking them from a respectable 3.8 stars to 1 star in an afternoon. to a normal human being, this would mean nothing, but they text a screenshot of this to martyn and ren with the caption 'this u?'

martyn and ren have never once reacted to anything normally or proportionality in their life.

skizz, one of their regulars, also takes great offense to this. he insists that this is a devastating blow against the burger king's honor, and vows to get revenge.

no one's sure exactly how he does it, but within an hour he manages to trace one of the bad reviews back to jimmy and promptly doxes him, getting him fired due to the content of his surprisingly popular google+ account.

scar and grian, after laughing hysterically for an hour over the fact that jimmy was a google+ influencer, continue their reign of terror over the burger king by taking a selfie of them next to the burger king drive through menu, which they somehow have relocated to the roof of the mcdonalds.

it's the last straw for ren.

decked out in a red cape made of the burger king curtains and armed with a spatula and the fury of a thousands suns, ren marches across the street to the mcdonalds and challenges scar and grian to a winner-takes-all duel.

a crowd begins to gather, with nearly everybody grian knows save for the people involved in what has been dubbed the white castle war, forming a loose arch behind ren and martyn as they begin to chant for a fight.

grian and scar, who came outside to see what all the commotion was about, both predictably panic at the sight of two men in capes charging towards them backed by a crowd chanting for blood. grian tries to claw his way back up the roof while scar, possessed by the spirit of apollo, does the only thing he can and chucks a potato at ren's head.

that potato hits ren square in the forehead and knocks him out cold.

the crowd goes silent.

martyn, thinking ren is dead, drops to his knees and cradles his unconscious body close to his chest and dramatically confesses his everlasting love, vowing to never leave ren's side and to never stop spreading the tale of ren's 'grey long and strong' bits.

grian, upon witnessing this, realizes to his abject horror that he also has gay feelings for his manager.

he has no idea what to do with these feelings, and the crowd is still chanting fight, and he's experienced a lot of stress and unexpected emotions in the last five minutes, so he really can't be blamed when he turns on his heel and punches scar in the face.

scar, surprised but absolutely willing to go along with it, punches grian back, and they begin beating the shit out of each other in the most pathetic fist fight a mcdonalds parking lot has ever witnessed.

meanwhile, there's police cars and fire trucks with sirens on speeding down the road past them, and someone in the crowd realizes 'oh shit are those all going to the white castle?'

so the crowd immediately abandons the world's worst fight to go see what the hell has been going down in the white castle.

it takes a bit, but, with martyn still confessing his love and sobbing over ren's unconscious body, grian finally manages to land a lucky hit and knocks scar out, sending him crumpling to the ground. for the second time that day, grian realizes with horror what he's done, and frantically tries to run to get a medic only to trip over scar's unconscious body and knock himself out as well.

The headline of the local newspaper the next morning reads as follows:

...anyone wanna ask me about my last life mall au

#this is the new dumbest thing ive ever written #anyway thanks for asking. so sorry to inflict this on you #i had to cut so many scenes from this bc it was just too long so if there's any characters or scenes youre curious about hmu #more specifically: Ask Me About The White Castle Pipe Bomb C Plot #shoutout to lew for helping me plot this out. ill never forget u #third life #desert duo #renchanting #grian #gtws #renthedog #martyn inthelittlewood #cat.txt #third life mcdonald’s burger king au

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ravensinthedaylight · 2 years ago

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City of Ash - Daenerys Targaryen x Daughter!Reader

Request(ed by @violetromanova): i’m not sure if you’re taking requests or not right now (so if not i’m really sorry pls ignore this) but i had an idea for a daenerys targaryen x daughter fic where her daughter is there at kings landing and is so afraid and horrified by what happened that she struggles to be around her mum, and you can take it from there i think, i have no clue what should happen next,

Notes: For the sake of the fic Rhaegal never died lol, I also made some minor adjustments to the plot.

Summary: You struggle to look at your mother, Daenerys, after the burning of King's Landing.

Reader's Age: 13

masterlist (Got)

You didn't know what to think as you rode over the burning city.

Parts of King's Landing had been reduced to ash, it had only been two hours after the initial attack and your mother had finally given the go for you to be brought to the city.

The city that she had just conquered. the city whose people she had just cold heartily burned.

Even from high up, on top of Rhaegal, you could hear the screams and cries of the people. Your people. Your mother's people.

The more you looked the more tears flowed from your eyes.

Your mother couldn't have done this. Not the woman who had given birth to you and raised you even though your father, Beltar Celtigar, had died in battle in Essos before you were even born. Not your sweet, kind, fair, and honest Muña.

At first, you had told yourself that she had just lost control of Drogon. But the further you road with Rhaegal the more you realised that that wasn't possible. Drogon didn't have such a blood lust, Drogon was as loyal to Daenerys as you were, even at the age of three and ten you remain one of the people who are most loyal to your mother.

You knew that your loyalty probably didn't mean as much as that of Yara Greyjoy and the Tyrells, but your mother had been insistent that you were the person who mattered most.

As you neared the Red Keep you began to see the castle, or at least what was left of it.

Most of it was just a pile of stone. You didn't see how this could be rebuilt within just a few years.

It had taken your ancestors decades to build the Red Keep and now look at it.

You could hear the pitiful noises coming from Rhaegal. He seemed to share your grief.

You knew that the cries of the women and children would haunt you for years to come, and the images of the burning buildings and castle would forever be engraved in your brain.

The cries were so loud, so very loud, you could hear them so well despite being so far up above.

Rhaegal seemed to slow down, and stayed flapping his wings in the same spot.

When he stopped moving forward you could see everything. The full scale of the destruction caused.

You found it hard to breathe.

Daenerys had once promised that she would never attack King's Landing. She had said that she was not here to be Queen of the ashes.

But then what was this? What was she doing?

She had gone back on everything that she had ever said.

You were happy that Jorah and Missandei weren't here to see this, to see what your mother had done.

Because now, as much as you wanted to deny it, you knew that your mother had done this.

Your mother had shown no mercy.

She destroyed King's Landing.

There were no other words for it.

I'm sorry. You thought as you looked down to the flames that were no doubt burning thousands of innocent civilians this very second. I'm so very sorry.

The army of Unsullied stood in rows in front of the steps to what was previously the castle.

You had wiped your tears from your face, refusing to show her your tears. You had the feeling that this would be a different woman than the Daenerys Targaryen who you had said goodbye to just a few moons ago.

You didn't know what she would do to you.

Rhaegal let out a roar, landing in front of the steps.

As you dismounted, you felt a shiver up your spine.

It was freezing, even the furs that were wrapped around your shoulders didn't do much for the cold.

It was rarely this cold in Essos. You missed Mareen. You wanted desperately to return there. The atmosphere was happy there, and the people were treated with a kind yet fair hand.

You missed the warmth of the weather and flying the dragons alongside your mother. Of course, you were too young to ride by yourself back then, it was just the two of you on Drogon as Viserion and Rhaegal flew nearby.

You had made friends in Mareen. Here you were all alone.

You petted Rhaegal's scales and patted his head, signaling for him to stay.

You looked up. Daenerys Targaryen stood at the top of the steps, Greyworm to her side, and Drogon was perched on a nearby ruin watching over the army of both unsullied and Dothraki.

The Dothraki made room for you as you went to climb the first step of many up to meet your mother at the top.

With each and every step your heart rate increased, and you caught sight of the familiar silver hair that you had inherited from her, you refused to meet her eyes, you were afraid of what you would see in them.

But you saw her hand, a hand that was outstretched to you. Your heart was filled with hope.

You wanted to reach your own handout and touch hers, to feel her familiar warmth, but then the sound of the wailing children, mothers, and widows filled your ears and your yearning was quenched.

You saw her smile, the same smile which had made it a priority to tuck you in every night. The same smile that had been used after freeing the slaves from their masters back in Essos. Bile threatened to surge up your throat over the fact that that very smile was being used right at this moment, right after she had done this.

But no matter what you avoided the eyes, you didn't want to see her eyes. What if they were the same as before? In many ways, you knew that that would make you feel even more sick and horrified, for you felt nobody could commit such a heinous act and still be able to look at their child the same.

You were halfway to the top and the only sounds to be heard were the sounds of your footsteps, the wind, and the crying of the civilians. You didn't know which sounds were more deafening to your ears.

Daenerys hand was still outstretched, but as you got higher up, the more you looked to the nearest step in front of you.

When you finally reached the top you still refused to meet her eyes, she was - in what your mind perceived - stalking toward you. You felt like the prey. You didn't feel safe.

She ignored your flinch as she grabbed onto your shoulder softly, whether she noticed it or not you weren't sure.

"Oh, my sweetest love." She whispered lovingly as she pulled you closer and eventually into an embrace.

You were tense in her arms. You felt even sicker as she caressed the silver curls that cascaded down your back.

Your arms were pinned to the side, while your mother's arms were around your shoulders.'

You refused to give in to the affection.

"You missed my speech." She hummed, placing kisses to your head.

You said nothing, you were cracking, like when your mother's glass vase back in Braavos cracked when one of the baby dragons accidentally knocked it over.

"I hope you had a safe flight."

You forcefully pushed her off of you, breaking the embrace and making her gasp in anguish, in the corner of your eye you could see some Dothraki shift where they stood and Drogon's gaze sharpened.

Daenerys looked hurt and... confused... which irked you greatly.

"Sweetling?"

You promised yourself you wouldn't look in the eyes, you promised, but you couldn't stop yourself.

Her eyes were the same.

And you felt hurt everywhere. You felt betrayed even though it wasn't you she had betrayed.

Despite your promises not to cry you let out a distressed sob as you tried to turn away. Thousands of eyes were upon you, but you failed to care very much. For every eye that was on you another ten people were left burned by Dragonfire.

Daenerys put her hand on your shoulder and guided you away from the scene, knowing that this was a conversation to be had privately.

"Shh, shh, shh." She tried to tell you, but you just tried to pull your arm out of hers, but Daenerys wasn't having it, she wouldn't let go, which made you cry out more. "It's just me, Y/N. It's Muña." She said softly.

"Let me go, please." You cried, Daenerys finally did as she was told, releasing her hold on your arm.

You protectively wrapped your arms around yourself.

"What have you done." You whispered brokenly. "How could you have done such a thing."

Daenerys stared at you and her gaze faltered. "I did what was necessary. I did it for us."

You stared at your mother and took a step back.

"The city surrendered. It surrendered and you still killed thousands!" You spat. "You won, gods be dammed you won! Have you been down there? Have you seen- heard what I've heard, children, women, babies, innocent civilians are dead, you slaughtered them like sheep." You sobbed.

"You overcame Euron's fleet, you annihilated the Golden Company, you eliminated all the city's defenses, Cersei surrendered and you still killed them!"

Daenerys thought for a few seconds, she needed to gather her words. "I needed them to know not to mess with us, to never endanger my dragons, my army, my reign, my kingdom, and most importantly you."

You laughed bitterly. "Them? Who's them? The tens of thousands you have just slaughtered? Don't you understand that the start of your reign is now marked with the bloodshed of innocents?"

"I needed to make sure you would always be safe."

"You think I feel safe now?!" You cried out, bringing your hands up to your face. "You think I feel safe around you?!"

Daenerys looked hurt for just a split second, she goes to pull them away from your face, and you kept going.

"You've just murdered Lord Tyrion's family, you really think he'll stay loyal to you?" You snarked.

"I've granted him Casterly Rock." She responded dryly. You scoffed.

"If someone murdered me would you take Dragonstone and leave it at that?"

"You are not Cercei! And you already know the answer to that, Cercei was a tyrant and Tyrion understood that. Nobody will ever harm you, I've already told you. I've just guaranteed that." You could tell she was getting fed up with your comments.

You shook your head in disbelief, how did she think that this was ok?

"Do you even feel sorrow? Even just a little bit?"

You desperately wanted her to say yes, you desperately wanted to believe that what she did was truly necessary.

"I did what I needed to do, sweetling."

You looked down, you couldn't look at her, not right now. You didn't think that you would ever look at her the same.

"I'm sorry I scared you."

A new round of angry tears came to your eyes. She may have scared you, but that's not what was wrong here.

Your mother could sense your anger by the way you clenched your fists and how your eyelids started to squeeze tightly.

She placed a hand on each side of your face, making you flinch harshly, something that shocked her. Her hands felt as cold as her words, but the main reason you didn't want her to touch you, the reason being clear to both of you.

"Look." She uttered, adjusting your head so that you were facing the Iron Throne. "That's mine now. This is all mine now, the seven kingdoms and soon it will even be beyond that. And when I'm gone this will be yours."

You shivered. You didn't want this.

You were happy in Essos. You wanted to go back to Essos.

You didn't want a throne, you didn't want the titles, you just wanted your mother. You wanted her how she was.

You thought of the stories Viserys would tell to you before his death. The story of King Jaeharys was always your favorite, coming to the throne after Maegor the cruel had finally passed.

You wondered if you would have a similar story, as you didn't know if that was the last of your mother's ruthless slaughters.

"You should have grown up in the Red Keep." Daenerys whispered. "I should have too."

Her hands felt warm again.

"Even though neither of us has been here before, this has always been our home, this has always been where we belonged, My dragon. So welcome home."

You wanted to cry again. You were finding it so easy to forgive her, even though you knew she didn't deserve it, you had never met the people of King's Landing before, but you still felt as though you were betraying them.

"I don't ever want you contradicting me again, am I understood?"

You go to open your mouth, but no words left it.

"At least not like that. I'm your mother, you're but a hatchling. I can understand that you're slightly shaken, and I'm sorry for that, but we have finally reached our goal. You're confused, I know that, sweetling. You're so young and confusion is natural." Daenerys fingers traced your cheek soothingly. "But we need to be strong, especially now. Can you be strong for me?"

You nodded, you didn't even know what you were nodding to, you just knew that somewhere deep down you would always be desperate to please her.

"Thank you." She spoke with such love and adoration. "Now come here, please."

The second you were taken into another warm hug sobs wracked your petite frame.

"There, there, I know my love. Don't fret, I'll take care of everything."

You hated that she was so warm. You hated that you still craved nothing but her love after what she had done here, the number of people she killed. It made you sick to your stomach

"Muña." You whimpered. "Please don't do anything like that again."

Daenerys didn't respond.

taglist: (comment on liked to be added):

@earlyspectrum04

#Parent daenerys #daenerys targaryen x daughter!reader #got fanfiction #daenerys daughter #daenerys stormborn #parent daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen daughter #daenerys targaryen x teen!reader #daenerys targaryen child #daenerys targaryen #house of the dragon #game of thrones #targaryen!reader

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medusapelagia · 3 months ago

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10 - The Tower of Terror

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: "Where were you?”) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: enemies to allies) and @aug-kissed (prompt: Blow a Kiss) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: Witcher AU, violence, blood, injuries Words: 1626

(An AU inside an AU?!?! Yes 😂)

When Steve’s mom dragged him to Kaer Morhen as a kid, Steve didn’t know that she was selling him to the mages to make a witcher out of him. He just thought it was a funny adventure. They rode in a little carriage together with some cabbages, and then they crossed the woods and started the same long path that now Steve is walking down, holding Roach's bridle with one hand, guiding the stubborn girl down the steep slope.

Steve never knew how much the mages gave his mom. He hopes they gave her a lot, she still had other five kids at home and he was just another mouth to feed: too young and weak to be really helpful working at the farm.

Now his mom and his brothers are long gone, but Steve is still there, doing what he was raised to do: killing monsters.

At the end of the winter, he says his brothers and their father goodbye, and gets back on the path, ready to kill monsters and humans alike. Because sometimes, the worst monsters have human skin.

On his back are his two faithful swords, silver and iron, that he keeps in tiptop shape, cleaning and sharpening them every night before resting.

He doesn’t stop at the first few villages, he wants to leave them to his brothers, but he keeps walking toward the farthest towns, looking for little villages that definitely need a witcher, even if most of them can’t really afford him. But Steve was never too high-maintenance: if the people are nice to him and they really need help, he will help them, in exchange for some food and a comfortable place to sleep.

He would probably help them for free as well, but even witchers need to eat and sleep.

That’s how he finds out about the Tower of Terror. An old tower that’s all that remained of a big castle up the hills and that was destroyed during a strong earthquake.

He’s eating some bland soup, the only thing he can afford at the beginning of the hunting season, when a man, wearing fancy clothes, sits next to him.

“You’re a witcher, aren’t you?”

“What gave it away? The white hair or the yellow eyes? Maybe the two swords on my back?” Steve asks sarcastically, he doesn’t want to have anything to do with rich men, they are the ones that always try to fuck him up and pay him less than the agreed amount.

“Snarky, aren’t you? I thought all of you were grumpy and scary men.”

“Met many witchers?” Steve asks without even turning.

“A couple. When I was a kid. Anyway, I have a job for you. I want you to go to the Tower of Terror and free the place from all the monsters that inhabit that place.”

Steve lifts an eyebrow, “Did they attack the village?”

“Not yet. But they are monsters! We can’t live under the threat of those monsters coming for us if we want to become a bigger village. You see? At the moment all we have are just a few houses, but the road that leads to us is the quickest route to get to Hawkins. If we manage to kill every monster in the Tower of Terror, we will be finally able to attract more travelers and become a bigger city.”

“And make more money.”

“And make more money.” The man agrees, “The tower is full of gold and jewels, you could take anything you want once you clean it from the monsters. So what do you say? It’s a pretty big deal.”

“What kind of monsters haunt the tower?” Steve asks, squinting his eyes, pensive.

“How the fuck would I know! I never got there.”

“I don’t take jobs if I don’t know what I’m facing.”

“Oh. Too bad. Well, I guess I’ll ask the other witcher.”

That catches Steve's attention. What other witcher? He concentrates, trying to find a slow heartbeat like his but finds none.

“Oh, he’s not here yet, but we sent a messenger a few weeks ago and he promised to come soon. In the beginning, I thought it was you, but the messenger told me about dark pitch-black hair, so…”

There’s one witcher crazy enough to accept a job without knowing what the fuck he’s going to face. A witcher on his back has two swords and a lute. A witcher that’s crazy like all the witchers from the Cat School.

Eddie.

Steve takes his bowl of soups and gulps it down in one go, slamming it on the table, “Good for you.” he says, leaving the tavern.

He’s not even halfway through the village when he hears a familiar voice singing a stupid song, he turns in time to see Eddie get off his dark horse and put away his lute.

“When the tavern owner told me a grumpy witcher with white hair came to the rescue I couldn’t believe my luck.” He grins, getting closer to Steve who is still riding Roach.

“Not here to help you. Just looking for a job.”

“Are you saying to me you’re allergic to money? Because, my dear Steve, that castle is full of gold and jewels. So full that you won’t have to hunt for at least ten years.”

“And became old and fat in the meantime? No thanks.”

“Come on! It will be fun! You and me against the world!”

“There’s no you and me. There’s you. And there’s me. And our paths won’t cross again.”

“Oh, you weren’t so adamant when I was fucking you against the tree in the middle of the woods a few summers ago.”

“That was a one-time thing. And we were drunk.”

“Were we, Stevie?” Eddie asks, licking his lips and showing the little cat fangs.

“We come from different schools.”

“Doesn’t mean we are enemies. I'm pretty fond of you, actually.” Eddie says, blowing him a kiss and then winking at him.

“It does,” Steve replies, deadpan, before hitting Roach in the stomach and pushing her to gallop away.

“Tomorrow, at first lights! I’ll be there, waiting for you!” Eddie yells, but Steve doesn’t even turn.

***

Steve doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t even meditate. He just tosses and turns, thinking about that only night he shared with Eddie years before. How good it felt to be adored and loved even if it wasn’t real.

Finally understanding he won’t get any more sleep he sits near the ember of his fire, trying to remember everything he knows about the Tower of Terror. He has definitely read something about it but now all he can think about are pale hands wrapping his sex while a horny voice whispers dirty things in his ear.

If Eddie is really going to get into the Tower alone he will die, and those hands will never touch Steve again with reverence and desire.

It’s not Steve’s problem. If Eddie wants to die he’s free to do as he wishes.

Roach turns her head, glaring at him from the tree she’s tied to.

“Ok, I get it. I get it.” Steve sighs, dismounting the camp and preparing himself to fight.

***

It’s the smell of blood to guides him through the stupid tower, not the greedy, as Eddie insists when they meet in a maze of corridors.

The dark-haired witcher is holding his side, a deep wound gushing blood through his fingers, but Steve doesn’t have the time to take care of his injuries, because the monsters with no eyes are attacking them again, their shriek so loud on Steve’s sensitive ears that he has to fight with himself not to drop his sword and protect his ears with his hands.

With a slash, he cuts the arm that’s reaching out toward his head and when the creature loses its balance, Steve’s sword pierces him from side to side. He doesn’t even have the time to retrieve the blade, when another creature, smaller than the first, attacks him, making him fall on his back while he tries to keep the monster’s mouth away from his face. Steve kicks it in the stomach and the creature yelps, recoiling just enough to give Steve the time to grab the dagger from his belt and cut its throat.

The dark and warm blood falls on his clothes and his face, and Steve curses, kicking the dead beast.

“You should think about dyeing your hair.” Eddie chuckles, spitting some blood, “Black maybe it’s a little too dark fir your skin complexion, but I think chestnut would be perfect for you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve replies, trying to determine how bad the injury is.

“Where were you? I thought we agreed to be here at dawn.”

“I didn’t agree.”

“I heard you growl, distinctly. That’s not how your school expresses agreement?”

“Fuck you.” Steve says, fishing some vials for his bag, “Take this.”

“Swallow? How magnanimous of you.”

“Just drink it and let’s get out of here.”

“Can’t.”

“Come on Eddie. Not even a cat can be so stupid to risk his life for some jewels that were probably stolen ages ago.”

“Have you ever seen monsters like these?” Eddie asks, pointing to the two dead creatures.

Steve squints at the monsters without eyes. He doesn’t remember having read anything about them in the book he studied, and he definitely hadn’t met such creatures before.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if you come with me we could find something more than gold and jewels.” Eddie drinks the potion in one go and gives the vial back to Steve, “Can we be allies, for once?”

Steve stares at the other witcher who slowly gets up, one hand still protectively in front of his wounded side.

Allies.

Just for this time.

They shake hands, and then their medallions start to shake like crazy.

(Should I start working on a Part 2???)

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