#she truly shone this season

[ohnoohdeer]

Camila really went "IDK how I can use this connection but we'll find out" and then proceeded to spam call Adriel to distract him at any given opportunity I love her

[formulawolff]

el tango de roxanne - t.w.

pairing: figure skater!reader x toto wolff

word count: 2.8k

warnings: cursing, angst, (slight) age gap relationships, (slight) casual friends to lovers arc, allusions to smut, toto being a jealous fuck, yadayadayada

song inspo: el tango de roxanne by ewan mcgregor, jacek koman, and josé feliciano (if you couldn’t tell by the title hehe)

a/n: if you haven’t watched tessa virtue & scott moir’s iconic moulin rouge routine… where have you been? anyways. this fic was inspired by a request & this routine! i highly recommend watching it hehe. also idc if 2024 is summer olympics… this is my au! let me be!

he couldn’t bear it.

not for one more second.

yet, he couldn’t muster the strength to look away. to avert his gaze from what was unfolding on the ice below, as you glided so beautifully across, your partner in tow.

fuck, you were so breathtaking in this moment.

the way your hair was pulled so neatly into an intricate bun, your features enhanced by makeup. the way your eyes shine as you face your partner, several feet separating the two of you. the way your ensemble sparkled under the intense lighting, the skirt fluttering ever so slightly.

this is where you shone.

like a star in the night, bursting to the brim with nothing but pure, bright light.

while he may excel in the paddock, the rink was your element. where you truly belonged. where you were as cool as the ice, calm and collected as the dramatic flair of the strings amplified your movements, the audience roaring in response.

as you move, it’s magnetizing, the austrian shifting in his seat as your partner wraps you up in his embrace, holding you tightly as the two of you sail across the ice.

his jaw clenches as he notices the way your partner’s hand grasp the exposed skin of your back and shoulders, the routine almost executed perfectly as the music continues.

fuck, how he absolutely despised the way your bodies molded together. the way he held you, lifting you into the air, or onto his thighs, keeping you in close proximity.

of course, he has to remind himself that this is strictly professional. that there is nothing romantic going on between you and your partner, jack probst.

well, not like he could really be upset either.

there was nothing going on between the two of you.

at least, that’s what toto wolff thought.

the two of you met at a cocktail party for the launch of the 2022 formula one season, at the mercedes headquarters in brackley. although you were quite new to the world of racing, you were a plus one, as your best friend invited you to tag along with her. since she was part of the marketing team for mercedes, she had an in.

although you were terrified beyond belief of the idea of mingling with engineers, investors, and well, the drivers, you had reluctantly agreed to come with. as a prominent figure in the realm of ice skating, you were aware that you at least had one thing in common with the racing world.

in order to be successful, every little aspect of the routine had to be executed flawlessly.

just like the engineers and mechanics had to prep the car in order to race, you had to ensure that you had the right skates.

just like how the pit crew had to time their stops perfectly without fail, you had to maintain rhythm with the music, so that the routine would flow.

additionally, you were very similar to the drivers.

you yearned to step foot on that podium, no matter the cost.

at that party, you happened to run into the team principal and ceo of mercedes, mr. torger wolff. the two of you struck up a conversation, the team principal complimenting your career, as well as your dress.

although your best friend thought he was flirting, you had brushed it off, stating that he was just being polite.

however, toto wolff was not being polite.

he wanted you, oh so desperately.

and he was patient. he was going to wait until you were ready.

even if watching your routine with jack absolutely tugged and squeezed at his aching heart.

even if every fiber of his being screamed at him to look away before that jealousy burned through, the flames licking at every part of his being.

there was no denying you had effortless chemistry with jack, as the media speculated the two of you had been an item for years.

however, what toto did not know was that you were in a similar predicament.

after that fateful night in brackley, the team principal reached out to you via email. you wondered how he even got his hands on your email address, but your best friend gave that away with little to almost no interrogation.

allegedly, toto was interested if you, completely allured and entranced by your presence. so, he approached your best friend, inquiring about your contact information. not wanting to give him your number right away, she simply provided him with your email instead, urging him to “slide into those dms.”

so, he did. the two of you hit it off immediately, emailing one another constantly. after a couple of days, he mustered up the courage to ask you politely for your number. with no hesitation, you gave it to him.

from that moment on, a friendship blossomed between the two of you. although he was a bit older, he had this charm that pulled drew you in, wanting to learn more and more about him. also, formula one intrigued you, as you wanted to learn more about the sport.

he showed you the ins and outs of racing, while you educated him on the graces and virtues of skating. a few months into your friendship, he invited you to a grand prix, offering an all-exclusive ticket for the weekend. all you had to do was say the word and it was yours.

however, there was only one thing holding you back.

if you went, you would miss a week or so of practice. which, wouldn’t go over well with jack. especially during the initial stages of the season.

and even more so, with the olympics quickly approaching, you would feel guilty missing so much time.

so, you ended up passing on his offer.

which, hurt his pride just a tad, but not enough to deter him from his end goal.

he was going to have you.

one day.

he just wasn’t sure when.

eventually, you accepted one of his many offers to attend a grand prix. settling on the 2023 monaco grand prix, where dutch driver max verstappen claimed victory.

somehow, someway, the two of you ended up in bed together that night.

you weren’t quite sure how, and neither was he, but you mutually agreed to never speak on it again.

no matter how much it was on your mind.

which, was almost every second of every single day.

on his end, it was nearly detrimental, consuming his every waking thought whole.

to make matters worse, that night in monaco awoke something that you had been trying to keep hidden for months.

you were hopelessly and utterly in love with the team principal.

even if he was twenty-five years older than you. even if his schedule was jam-packed with meetings every minute of every hour of every day. even if he could only call you every so often. even if he was a single father, recently divorced after nearly a decade of marriage. even if there was something unspoken between the two of you, the tension blanketing over like a thick haze.

what toto could never know was that you pictured him right there with you, gliding along the ice, his hands roaming your body. you could almost feel him murmuring in your ear how beautiful you were like this, blissfully lost in the music.

no matter the circumstance. no matter the soreness lingering in your muscles or the sheer terror of falling or missing a beat, that thought alone is what got you though the routine.

it never failed.

and tonight, it was not going to fail you.

despite the stakes at hand, you were a natural at this, showing no signs of fear as the final notes rang in your ears.

this was it.

the end of the routine, jack dipping your body as your head rolls back, dramatically falling.

there’s a beat of silence, before the entire arena explodes.

the sound of thunderous applause fills your ears, jack pulling you in for a tight embrace, clutching you against his chest. sobs rack your body, your shoulders shaking as the realization washes over you.

you guys did it.

you had performed with minimal errors. no major mistakes or noteworthy point deductions.

a flawless routine.

the endless hours put in memorizing the movements, the sleepless nights at the rink, the doubt that you could pull this off, were washed away, slipping from your memory as joy bubbles up within your chest.

“representing their home country, jack probst and ____ _____!”

the boom from the announcer drowns in your ears, jack saying words you can’t quite decipher. you feel his hand in yours, but you’re not here.

you’re somewhere else, somewhere far from the packed arena.

you’re dreaming of his expression right in this moment. how his thick brows are probably furrowed together, his tongue swiping along as his lower lip, knee bouncing ever so slightly. his fluffy brunette locks are probably a ruffled mess, as he probably had ran a hand through it a few times, anxiously awaiting for a glimpse of you before your routine.

jack rips open the foam padding to the rink, where you’re greeted by your coaches. they engulf you in their arms, shouting praises over the hum of the crowd.

meanwhile, toto wolff sits in the stands, hands on his knees as he anticipates the final verdict. his knuckles are nearly white as the denim bunches under his fingertips, his knee bouncing slightly as clips of the routine. replay across the ginormous screens all across the arena.

he's surrounded by you.

your stunning figure as it gracefully flows with the music, every movement absolutely exquisite. your breathtaking smile the moment you're finished, eyes shining like the stars as jack envelops you in his arms.

a pang of envy rises in his chest, yet he swiftly suppresses it.

this moment was not about his jealousy towards your skate partner. he shouldn't be feeling this way.

this moment was about you.

an olympic medal on the line, the future of your skating career at stake.

"the scores please," the announcer booms, blood roaring in toto's ears as he straightens in his seat, leaning forward, eyes scanning the rink.

it does not take him even a second.

you're sitting next to jack, your coaches on either side. although he was a distance away, he could sense your nerves, as your smile was tight-lipped, your hand shaky as it blows a kiss to the camera.

"_____ _____ and jack probst have earned in the free dance 122.60 points, bringing their total to 206.27 points. they are currently in first place!"

the crowd erupts into applause, jeering and screaming throughout the stands. your heart skips a beat as jack springs up, slamming the padding before wrapping you up in his arms against you once more, nearly knocking the wind out of your lungs.

he lifts you, his voice shaky with the promise of tears, "we did it! we fucking did it!"

"i can't believe it," you nuzzle into the crook in his neck, "i can't fucking believe it."

the rest of the night is a blur.

as the two of you stood on that podium, gold medals dangling from your neck as your national anthem played, you couldn't help but shake this aching feeling.

you yearned for him.

you longed to feel his strong arms around you, squeezing you against his chest as his husky voice flooded your ears, brimmed with his accent. to feel his hands glide along your body, their warmth sending shivers down your spine.

there were lengthy interviews, each one nearly draining your remaining energy with each journalist or media outlet. you didn't mind, as you basked in the afterglow of your gold medal win, a grin plastered to your face all evening.

before you knew it, you were in an uber, on your way to a new destination.

toto wolff's hotel room, a luxurious suite in the heart of the city. although every muscle in your body stung, exhausted from the events of the day, your mind is wide awake, buzzing from a torrent of thoughts swirling in your brain.

what would be the first thing that fell from those lips? would he embrace you first? what was he thinking in that moment when you won gold?

as you enter the elevator, punching the correct floor, your heart races, thumping against your rib-cage.

sure, competing in the olympics was nerve-wracking.

but facing the man you were helplessly in love with?

that was enough to make your knees buckle, your body swaying back and forth as the elevator ascended, palms clammy as you wiped them against your sweatpants.

surely he wouldn't mind that you were in sweats.

a shrill ding! rings in your ears, announcing your arrival. sucking in a shaky breath, you turn right, making your way down the hall. his room was not difficult to locate, as it was one of the first ones.

bringing your knuckles to the door, you knock, blood roaring in your ears.

he opens it almost immediately.

"hey," you beam, "i hope i wasn't too-"

lips collide with yours, his hands meeting with your waist, pulling you closer in to him. you melt under his touch, nearly crumpling to the floor as a shiver jolts down your spine. the kiss is fiery yet tender, as if lovers were reuniting after months of separation. it's a kiss of longing and love, bursting with passion.

yet, he pulls away, allowing you to catch your breath. there's a dusty pink hue tinging his cheeks, his chest heaving as he pants slightly.

"i'm sorry. i shouldn't have-"

"don't even," you shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck, "come here."

he doesn't hesitate, his mouth molding with yours once more as he brings you in the room, nearly slamming the door shut. this time, the kiss is brimmed with lust, an insatiable desire burning deep within the austrian as a whine rises in your throat.

his tongue glides along your lower lip, your head tilting back to grant him access. his hold on your is nearly unbreakable, as if he never wanted to let you go ever again.

your hands roam, inching up the base of his neck, tugging on the roots of his messy brunette locks. there's a rumble in his chest as he guides you to the bed, your back meeting the mattress.

however, he breaks away once more, eyes locking with yours.

"do you have any idea how long i've waited to do that?"

"you didn't have to wait until i won a gold medal," a giggle bubbles up in your throat, fingers sweeping a strand of away from his temple, "hell, maybe if you did that sooner, i would have earned more points."

an airy chuckle fills the space, his lips curving into a radiant grin, "congratulations, little star. there's no one who deserved that win more than you."

"toto," you murmur, his eyes softening at the way his name drips from your sweet lips, "can i tell you something?"

"of course schatzi," his hand cups your face, thumb caressing along your cheekbone, "what is it?"

"i sort of have a method to my skating," you can't help but shrink a little as the embarrassment begins to wash over you, "it helps me focus."

"and that is?" his brows knit furrow.

"instead of jack skating with me, i picture you."

at those words, the austrian nearly collapses.

"you do?"

"i do," you nod, "lately, it's been the only way i can follow a routine without mistakes. it helps me get lost in the rhythm, the flow of the music as it guides us. um, well, as it guides me."

"oh my beautiful girl," toto's mind reels, his heart swelling, "you're always on my mind. lately i can't focus in my meetings or at the paddock or in my office. you consume me."

you consume me.

bliss ripples in your heart as you lean in, the tip of your nose brushing against his, "toto wolff, i'm in love with you. i can't hide it anymore. i can't deny it. i love you."

toto blinks, ensuring that this was no dream. that you were really here beneath him, in his bed at his hotel room. surely this wasn't heaven. surely this wasn't some sort of delusion or mirage.

yet, you were here, nothing but pure adoration swimming in the depths of your warm gaze, your lashes fluttering as his mouth ghosts over yours.

"and i'm in love with you, schatzi. what do you say? should we try to make something work?"

"i think we could make something work," the words are merely a whisper, "actually, scratch that. we're going to make something work."

"that's my little olympian. are you ready for sleep or can i show you just how much i love you?"

[ocpdzim]

okay here is my opinion about ezri dax. it's really sad the timing wouldn't have worked since it had already been going for a couple seasons when jadzia died, because ezri BELONGED ON VOYAGER!!!!! she kind of sucked on ds9 because they were so bogged down in her relationship to jadzia and kept putting her in miserable romantic drama so various men who didnt even need or benefit from it could have sad dead wife angst about jadzia but if she was on voyager then no one there would have known jadzia and so bringing jadzia up would just be something that would happen every now and then like w other past hosts and it would've been a nice tie in to get ds9 fans interested in voyager but otherwise wouldn't bog her down. she would've gotten to be her own person. and she would fit in so well thematically and interpersonally with the voyager cast as a young person thrust into a situation she wasn't prepared for and didnt know how to handle. she would've had time to grow and mature as a character instead of a rushed 1 season arc. she would've had a great dynamic with like every single person in that cast but especially with harry kim. she could've been actual friends with harry kim and they could've been actually nice to each other. they both needed a friend who would also truly treat them as an equal and a peer so badly and did not ever get it. voyager needed a counselor on the ship so badly so she could've really shone in her career. there could've been an interesting plot about her being the only trill on voyager and how the dax symbiont would potentially die with her because of that and how she would cope with that especially because she wasn't "supposed" to have it in the first place. TRAGIC that she was stuck on ds9 instead

[janeyseymour]

Landslide

Summary: Melissa's doing a lot of self-reflection while she ponders about what the future might hold for the two of you.

Feel free to listen to my cover of the song too!

WC: 1.95k

Melissa Schemmenti has been through a lot- there’s no two ways about that statement. She’s had plenty of rough seasons, and they’ve shaped who she is today. And then you came crashing into her life the day that you quite literally tripped and fell walking into her during the first day of development at Abbott your first year. Your mere existence threw her into an existential crisis, and that was before the two of you started dating. And now? She’s contemplating asking you to marry her (how you managed to get her to rethink her entire outlook on life, love, and marriage without your realizing it is beyond her). With this revelation of hers that she might want to get married again, she’s doing a lot of reflection of the course of her life.

I took my love, I took it down. I climbed a mountain and I turned around. And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills, til the landslide brought me down.

She used to wear her heart on her sleeve. That’s actually how she fell in love with Joe. It was a typical school girl crush in the eighties when she met him in an entry level writing course during college that everybody was required to take in order to graduate. They fell in what she thought was love and got married far quicker than she had ever expected herself to do. She had climbed that mountain, and she almost made it to the top. But then, their marriage had turned into the situation that she had promised herself she would never be in. She turned around, and as she began her trek down, she saw her reflection in what was now a snow covered hill. She saw the way that this experience changed her, and she knew that she would never be the same again- not after what Joe had done. And then the landslide brought her down, and she had fallen from what felt like the highest peak, and she found herself in one of the lowest valleys.

Oh, mirror in the sky: what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Building herself back up to be as much of the Melissa Schemmenti that she knew and missed was a process, and the redhead knew that it was always going to a little different than it once was.

Melissa found herself looking up at the sky quite often, feeling a sense of serenity when the sun in the sky shone on her face or when the droplets of water that fell from the clouds trailed down her face and she couldn’t quite tell what was rain and what was tears. It was freeing and made her feel as though everything might just be okay.

The redheaded woman was looking up at the sky on a rather cloudy and dismal day as she wandered through the city aimlessly when she finally decided to ask herself what love really is.

Melissa came to the realization that day that she had no idea what love was. Her mother and father certainly didn’t have the love story everyone yearned for- no, they ended up divorced by the time the redhead was ten. She remembers hearing their fights, the cursing and tears, while she lay in bed trying to fall asleep. A part of her had died in those years, and she truly wondered in that moment if the inner child within her heart could ever rise above and find love- true, real, and natural love that wasn’t forced or expected of her.

The woman walked through the city without a destination, wondering if she could handle the changing ocean tide of being in a marriage to being single again. Could she handle the different seasons of her life that were yet to come? She supposed she made it this far, so she can’t give up now- if anything to spite whatever God was trying to make her life a living hell.

Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I’m getting older too.

That night, Melissa went back to the small apartment in the middle of Center City Philadelphia that she couldn’t quite yet call a home. She stood out on her balcony, eyes focused down on the streets below her. Somewhere, Joe was roaming those streets looking for his next booty call. And in that moment, she realizes that she needs to change her ways- it’s been two months that she’s been moping around since the divorce was filed.

But she was terrified of change. She had built this whole life around Joe and his friends and family,  and she lost it all in an instance when she caught him in their bed with another woman.

With time, Melissa’s heart healed and mended itself- the only true remedy for heartache and heartbreak. And in that time, she grew to love where she worked at Abbott Elementary. She grew bigger and bolder, back into the woman that didn’t put up with shit and marched to the beat of her own drum.

Years passed, and the redhead found herself watching her first class graduate from Abbott. Only then did she realize that even children grow and get older- onto their new chapter, and then in a few short years she would find herself at their high school graduations cheering and clapping for them among their families.

But Melissa Schemmenti was like family to some of those kids- like a second mother, or even a first mother in certain cases. And she would continue to be there for them.

Only after she enters the door to her townhouse that at least somewhat feels like a home to her now does the second grade teacher realize that she too is getting older. 

And then you came around. You started working at Abbott when Melissa was finally settled into her own being and she was happy with where she was in life. And you came and shook that all up in your flowery sundresses and bright smile. You turned her world upside down with your infectious positivity and sunny disposition. The redhead who wore mostly muted colors with her pleather pants and leather jacket started to wear brighter colors again, because you unintentionally made her see the world like she was living in technicolor.

And after a few months of you working there, the two of you began to see each other romantically. You brought out parts of the hardheaded second grade teacher that she thought she would never see again, yet she was still Melissa. She was still the woman who knew a guy and wasn’t afraid to back down from a bare knuckle fist fight or to bring out her bat to destroy someone’s car who wronged her. You found yourself loving that. You also found yourself loving the way that Melissa would turn soft for you in an instant if you needed it. You knew she was the woman of your dreams, and the redhead felt that too oddly enough.

And so, here she is in her classroom as she waits for you to finish up a meeting with Malik’s parents and doing some self-reflection again as she wonders if maybe you are the miracle that she’s been waiting for her entire life- if you are the one true, real, natural love that she’s been looking for. If you’re the one that she’s going to throw caution to the wind for and get married to.

Well I’ve been afraid of changing, cause I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older. And I’m getting older too.

She’s been afraid of change her entire life. Melissa Schemmenti thrives off of routine and the things that she knows to be true in the world. But you came and shook everything up, and she’s built her new life around you now. Is she willing to change everything if a second marriage of hers goes south again?

But… time has made her bolder. Time has shown the redhead that no matter what happens, she’s resilient- she’ll make it through. And genuinely, she isn’t so sure that she would hate the change of being married again, as long as it was to you. 

Time passes around her slowly as she looks around her classroom and realizes just how much has truly changed since she started teaching you and even just in the past few years that you’ve been in her life.

The kids that she started out with are onto the real world, they’ve grown up. They’re off creating their lives, creating families and raising beautiful children that are now wandering through the halls of Abbott themselves.

The practice of teaching has changed and evolved as Melissa’s been here, and while she’s always been afraid of change, the redhead realizes that she’s always been changing and growing to fit the standards of the time in order to give her students the best education she can.

And you? You’ve brought a new sense of life and passion into her world… she’s getting older, she’s aware of this. Maybe you’re worth the potential landslide that could take her out again. She doubts you will- you’re nothing like her ex-husband in the slightest. And that gives her hope. The lingering fears though stay with her, because much like you’ve shaped her, so have her past experiences. 

Oh, take my love, take it down. Oh, climb a mountain and you turn around. And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide brought me down. And if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, well the landslide bring it down.

Melissa’s worn her heart on her sleeve when it comes to you. And so far, she hasn’t had to take it down. You’ve both climbed the mountain, but neither of you have turned around. She saw her reflection as she climbed up, and she’ll be quite frank: she still glances down at the snow-covered hills occasionally when a moment of self-doubt and self-worth takes over. But she doesn’t think that the landslide will ever bring the two of you down.

And so, she opens her phone and pulls up the number of one of her guys.

“Jack? I think I need a ring,” she says into the phone lowly, praying to God you aren’t coming around the corner. 

“For?”

“I think I found the future Mrs. Schemmenti,” Melissa reveals with a soft smile on her face. “I’m done letting the landslide bring me down.”

“Meet me tomorrow after work, and I’ll have a few things picked out for you.”

She hangs up the phone with a smile.

You walk into her classroom a few moments later, bags slung over your shoulder.

“Hey, babe,” you sigh. “You ready to go home? I’m beat, and I need some relaxation and Desperate Housewives.”

Melissa chuckles softly as she stands from her desk chair and grabs her own bag. She stretches to peck your cheek before taking your left hand in her own. Subconsciously, she rubs her thumb on your ring finger as she thinks about the meeting that she has tomorrow with her guy. 

Melissa Schemmenti has always been afraid of change… always wanted to heal that inner child of hers that used to look up into the night sky and wonder what love was. And here she was, changing for you and knowing what love truly felt like.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

[catsukiiee]

# DOVES. | CHAPTER ONE.

౨ৎ tenya iida x fem!reader fic.

season one of doves.

arranged marriage trope.

wordcount ; 1,565

paragraphs ; 35

sentences ; 92

reading time ; 6:15

songs used

— wedding opening song / walking down the aisle.

— the kiss + following scenes.

tropes ; arranged marriage, slowburn.

tenya iida is twenty eight instead of his canon age of twenty four.

readers age has been set to early or mid twenties for this fic (ofc you can make it any age you want, as long as it's not illegal.)

due to both of iida's parents being unnamed, i will figure out names for them in later chapters.

author's note: because i love my poc girlies, i will be writing reader to have brown skin. all brown girls can have any texture of hair, including straight/slightly straight. i never see character x reader being described as poc in this fandom so here we go!.

The weather today was soothing. The sun shone brighter than usual, with not a single cloud in the sky. It was an ideal day to be outdoors. You couldn't help but wish your life mirrored the warmth of the sun. Unfortunately, your existence was far from serene, born to a mother who would go to any lengths to satisfy her husband and daughter to a man who was consumed by his thirst for power.

In your father's eyes, you were less than human, a truth you eventually came to accept. However, the realization that your mother viewed you similarly was a painful blow.

As you sat in front of the mirror, your throat tight from suppressing tears, you caught your reflection. Your mother stood behind you, delicately placing a stunning wedding accessory in your hair.

Wedding.

A word that typically evokes joy for those who dream of uniting with their true love. Wedding days are meant to be filled with happiness, laughter, and tears of joy.

Yet all you felt was a sense of impending doom.

f l a s h b a c k..

“You are to marry the second son of the Iida family! I will not tolerate any more of your tears!” Your father's voice echoed through his cramped office, his weathered face contorted in rage, turning a deep shade of red.

“I don’t want to marry! Not him! Not anyone!” Despite your desperate protests and screams, your father's resolve remained unshaken. The sharp sting on your cheek from his slap left your ears ringing and your face burning, but you stood your ground, facing the man who had turned your life into a nightmare.

Your mother stood at the doorway, doing nothing to help as you struggled for control over your own life. When you turned to her, desperation in your eyes, her expression was icy, barely meeting your gaze. Your hands clutched hers, but she didn’t return the grip. Instead, she directed her attention to her husband. “The Iida family will cover the entire cost of the wedding.” Then she finally turned back to you, squeezing your hands, but the gesture felt anything but reassuring. “Stop acting like a child. It’s time for you to get married and contribute to this family.”

End of flashback.

“You make such an amazing bride.” She whispered, her eyes brimming with tears as she smiled, smoothing her hands down your arm before moving them up to give your shoulders a light squeeze. When you were a child your mother’s touch and gentle smiles used to bring you nothing but peace and comfort, but now her touches and gentle smiles left you disgusted, filled with anger.

Your hair was thoroughly brushed then pinned up into an elegant bun by a hairpiece that resembled doves. Your dress was a striking white, your shoulders and back was exposed, the silky lace gently tickled your shoulders and legs, your veil laid against a chair beside you, matching the same striking white lace of your wedding gown, little white doves decorated it.

You should’ve felt beautiful, the dress and your makeup was truly beautiful but all you felt was the tears threatening to spill and ruin your makeup. The gentle smile your mother offered you slightly wavered at your expression, her hands that were once gently squeezing your shoulders grew hard, her nails slightly digging into you. “Remember, you’re a grown woman, there’s no need to cry like a child.”

Her words pricked something deep inside you, your legs pushed you up before your brain could catch up to your movements. For a moment, a flicker of fear flashed in your mothers eyes as you stared at her down. “Get out.”

She was out the room within seconds, not sparing you a glance as she closed the door. For the next few minutes, your thoughts consumed every inch of your brain till they were shattered by the door opening. “I said I wanted to be alone! Why can’t you-” You paused in an instant, your yell silencing in your throat.

There stood Mrs, Iida with a wary look, her hands clutching a small white box. “Hello dear.” The corner of her eyes wrinkled when she smiled, softly closing the door as she walked further into the room. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to..” Her fingers circled around your wrist, silencing you once more. “There’s no need to apologize, I understand this whole…thing can be frightening. I just wish I could’ve changed the outcome.”

You both fell silent, the only sound being the soft rustle of the box being unwrapped by Mrs. Iida. “This was a gift to me on my wedding day, I want you to have it now.” It was a pretty pearl bracelet with a dove charm attached to it. “I added the dove, very fitting for your wedding theme.” She chuckled lightly, sliding your wedding dress right sleeve up to put the bracelet on before giving your wrist a comforting squeeze. “You look stunning, dear. I’m truly sorry that neither of us were given a choice in love.”

For the first time in months, you felt comforted by a mother’s touch, nuzzling your face into her shoulder as you pulled her into a hug. “Thank you.”

“Calm.” Mrs. Iida’s voice was gentle as she held your arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze while you both stood behind a large white door. The soft murmur of conversation filtered through, barely audible. You took a deep breath, but it did little to calm your nerves. Instead, you placed your hand over hers and closed your eyes, waiting for the soft notes of a song to begin. As the doors slowly opened, the chatter faded into silence.

There stood your husband, dressed in a crisp white tuxedo, save for the red tie that matched his eyes, his hands neatly clasped behind him. Since the announcement of your engagement, you had barely spoken to him.

Turbo Hero: Ingenium was finally getting married after years of insisting he wouldn’t settle down while there were still villains to defeat. The media was eager to uncover the identity of his bride, shattering the quiet you once cherished with their flashing cameras and intrusive questions.

Even at your wedding, their cameras flashed as you walked down the aisle strewn with white rose petals. Your gaze remained locked on his, your hand resting on his mother’s trembling slightly, your breath unsteady.

And for some odd reason, when he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back.

A warm tingle spread from your fingers to your hands and up your arm as Mrs. Iida placed your hand in Tenya’s. His smile remained steady, though yours faltered for just a moment.

“Hello,” he whispered, tilting his head slightly, causing a few strands of dark hair to fall over his eyes. You bowed your head slightly before meeting his gaze again. “Hi.”

The priest cleared his throat and began the ceremony. You found it hard to focus on his words, instead getting lost in the depths of Tenya’s eyes. It wasn’t that you admired his gaze; it was just the only thing that kept you grounded amidst the sea of eyes and flashing cameras.

“Now, Tenya Iida,” the priest began, a jolt of anxiety coursing through you. You had been so absorbed in his eyes that you hadn’t realized the priest was nearing the end of vows. “Do you take this lovely woman to be your bride?”

For a moment, your breath caught in your throat as Tenya’s gaze shifted from yours to the priest and back again. A part of you feared he might say no, and you almost wished he would. “I do,” he finally said, and a wave of emotion washed over you. If it weren’t for his hands holding yours, you might have collapsed.

Now it was your turn to face the priest as he asked you the same question, pausing to await your response. Your heart raced, feeling as if it might burst from your chest. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you opened your mouth, your voice trembling. “...I...I do.”

The priest smiled at you both before continuing. “Then may the Lord’s kindness strengthen the consent you have declared before the Church and graciously fulfill His blessings within you. What God has joined, let no one put asunder.” He paused, placing a white cloth over your joined hands. “In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss!”

In that moment, you completely forgot about the kiss. So when Tenya lifted your veil and cupped your face, your body froze. The guests erupted in applause and the cameras flashed, capturing the brief, sweet kiss that sealed your vows.

Tenya held your face for a moment longer before releasing you, taking your hands in his as he turned to face the audience, pulling you closer until your back pressed against his chest. The bright lights of the cameras momentarily blinded you, making you blink rapidly as tears spilled down your cheeks. You lowered your head slightly, dabbing at your tears.

Tenya’s hands moved to your waist, leaning down so his lips brushed against your ear. White petals drifting down around you both, and the applause of your guests faded into a distant hum. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Iida.”

it's finally here! i rewrote this chapter so many times y'all.

enjoy this short-ish first chapter!

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Norsemen & Anglo-Saxons Chapter 1

Here's the new story! I hope y'all like it.

Summary: Princess Y/N has a secret that her parents are ashamed of.  A conquering Viking chief recognizes the gift she has.  Will they be able to bring peace between warring people, and maybe find love along the way? Viking!Bucky Warnings: eventual smut, abuse, violence, animal attack, blood

Next chapter

The New Year was upon them.  The castle was bustling with maids and squires decorating and scrambling to get everything ready in time. The halls were filled up with garlands, pinecones, dried oranges, berries, and candles lit every ten feet.  A large tree had been hauled into the great hall during Christmas Time and decorated with the same oranges, berries and pinecones, as well as ornamental pieces that shone through the branches in the candlelight.  The last seasonal ball was to be held in a few days time, and the noble families from all over the Isles had traveled in to be part of the festivities.

Princess Y/N watched the chaos in boredom as her little brother Prince Alfred, or Alfie,  ran around the room with a stream of ribbon in hand, singing holiday songs at the top of his lungs.  As much as she loved and adored him their age difference was definitely apparent during these moments.  “I watched three ships come sailing in on Christmas day on Christmas day…”

“Alfie if you sing that wretched song one more time I will–”

“You will do nothing,” her mother, Queen Eugenia interrupted as she walked into the great hall to inspect the decorations.  “After all these years of training, you still resort to violence, you ridiculous child.”

“And you still call me a child when I near my thirtieth year, Mother,” Y/N spat back.  “Perhaps my penchant for violence comes from my frustration with said training and the constant degradation of my age and ability.”

“Your petulance and independence has made you unmarriable and therefore a thorn in my side,” Eugenia sighed.  

“There have been no, as you and Father called them, “suitable” suitors to marry me off to, Mother.  And this,” she held out her hand, opening her palm, wherein a green orb of light appeared, “scares you both to death.”

“Put your hand away!” Eugenia ran over and slapped Y/N’s hand down before anyone could see.  “Stop being so careless!”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Yes, Mother.”

Eugenia sat next to her.  “You will attend tonight’s ball, dressed appropriately, with a smile on your ungrateful face and nothing but patient, polite mannerisms escaping that mouth of yours.  And you will not play tricks,” she looked pointedly at Y/N’s hands.

Y/N glared at her.  “Yes, Mother.”

Eugenia sighed again.  “Go get ready.”

Y/N left the great hall as Alfie continued singing away.  Her lady’s maid followed her as she roamed the halls towards her room.  The only ones who knew about her ability were her family, the royal advisory court and her lady’s maid.  No one had been able to figure out what to do with it.  She didn’t have a handle on it, either.  She could manipulate objects and people’s bodies to move how she wanted, heal minor injuries, and when touching someone she was able to see their thoughts and feel their feelings.  She could feel that there was something more to it, that her power had the potential to grow, and yet she and her ability had been tamped down so heavily from the moment she first started exhibiting it that she was unable to truly hone it and see what she was capable of.  The advisors had researched their history and fairy tale books extensively and could not find a rhyme or reason as to why she had this power.  The only reason she had not been burned at the stake as a witch was because her father thought it could be useful to him and his never ending battle against the Norsemen.

Y/N had only seen one Norseman in her entire life.  Her father had captured one after a horrible battle and brought him back from the battlefield.  He was what they called a Berserker, a Norseman warrior that would lose all sense of self-preservation and run into battle like a feral animal, like they were out of their minds and drunk with bloodlust.  Her father had put them in a room together, separated by a line of thin prison bars.  The Norseman didn’t try to attack her, just watched her intently.  Her father told her to try her powers on him, see what she could make him do.  Y/N had refused, so her father flogged her to try and make her submit.  The Norseman had become so incensed by her father’s mistreatment that he had broken through the bars, bending them like they were butter, and just as he was about to lay his hands on her father she threw her hands up.  The Norseman was encircled in the green light, stopping him midair.  Her father gave the first genuine smile towards her she had seen in years.  

The guards had shackled him and took him away shortly after that.  The look in his eyes as they dragged him away was one of shock and betrayal.  Y/N couldn’t stand it, and that night snuck through the castle to the dungeon.  She had found secret passages as a child that she used regularly, and slipped through undetected.  She stole the keys and found his cell.  He was awake, and when he heard the jingle of the keys he looked up at her.  His eyes widened and he scurried towards the farthest wall from her.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Y/N had whispered, holding her hands up.  He watched her carefully as she unlocked the door and swung it open.  She had stepped away, giving him room to leave.  He had slowly walked out of the cell, watching her constantly.  He stepped away towards the nearest exiting door.  “Run,” she whispered as she backed away from him, keeping her hands up.

He stopped for a moment.  He cleared his throat and asked in perfect English, “Are you a witch?”

Y/N had blinked at him in surprise.  “I…I don’t know,” she answered honestly.  This man could kill her in a second without making a sound, and yet he merely nodded.  “Thank you, Drottning,” he bowed his head to her then ran off towards the door.

Y/N had never seen or heard from him again.  The castle had been abuzz with confusion and fear upon finding him missing the next morning, but they ultimately decided that the barbarian had his ways and wasn’t worth pursuing. 

Y/N had never trusted her father again after that day, and had steered clear of him whenever and however she could.  He only wanted her for her power and what it could do for him.  He didn’t love her, he didn’t love Alfie.  He was a true English King, hoarding power and wealth wherever he could.

Y/N dressed in her holiday best for the ball and begrudgingly entered the great hall later that night.  The party was in full swing, nobles dancing together as the music played, the King and Queen laughing madly at the jester performing in front of them.  The wine was flowing, making the crowd more rowdy by the second.  As Y/N ascended the stage where the King and Queen sat she saw two short legs poking out and found Alfie hiding behind the Queen’s wide throne chair.  She quickly walked over and pulled him into her arms.  “What are you doing here, Alfie?  It’s late, and this is no place for a young boy,” she scolded him.

“Papa said I had to be here, because I’m to be king, and this is what kings do,” he mumbled.  Y/N glared over at her father, who was drinking himself into a stupor.  Alfie was a mere 11 years old, and already her father was trying to sink his dirty claws into the little boy’s mind and heart.

“No, Alfie, this is not how kings should act,” Y/N reassured him as she ran her fingers through his hair.  “Let’s get you to bed.”

Suddenly there was a loud bang and a whistling as wind whipped through the hall from where the front doors burst open.  A thunderous roar from what seemed like hundreds of men swarming the hall filled the room, echoing through the high ceilings and making Alfie cover his ears.  Y/N held him close as she huddled behind the throne, concealing him and herself as best as possible.  There were shouts and screams from the nobles as the men started to cut many of them down, pushing and beating others as they made their way to the stage.

The King and Queen sat in shocked silence as they watched their guards and nobles die or be captured around them.  Y/N glanced around looking for an escape and saw men standing in the higher windows, pointing arrows at the royals.  She knew they were seen and so any attempt to run would be met with death.  

Heavy footsteps walked up the stage steps, and before she could even move large hands were hefting her and Alfie from behind the chair.  They ripped Alfie from her arms and she screamed, trying to get ahold of him again as he cried and tried to grab for her.  Y/N’s body was wrenched around and she came face to face with a familiar looking man.

“Hello, Drottning, remember me?” the Norseman from years earlier smiled at her.

“You!” Y/N breathed as her eyes widened.

The Norseman chuckled as he led her to the front of the stage to stand next to her Mother and Father who sat dumbfounded on their thrones, Alfie on the other side of them being held back by another man.  Y/N looked around and even through her fear was struck by the attractive nature of these men.  Most of them were spattered in blood and sweat from fighting, and yet she had never seen so many handsome men.  The yelling started to die down as one Norseman walked forward, assumedly the leader, the rest of them parting to let him through.  The one approaching her and her family was easily one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen in her life.  His long, dark brown hair was half tied back with braids that had ornaments of beads and metal cuffs attached to them.  His full beard was cut neatly and framed his pink lips, which were stretched into a menacing smirk.  His blue eyes shone bright like the ocean just after a storm, and she could see the mischievous glint in them as he scanned the family.  He was covered in Norse battle gear from just under his jaw to his feet, a large sheathed sword on his right side and a war hammer at his left.  His left arm was bare, and upon further inspection Y/N realized it wasn’t flesh, but some kind of metal, yet it looked and functioned like a normal arm.  He was huge, like all the other men, tall and broad.  His eyes settled on her and he appraised her, giving her a long look up and down.  Y/N straightened herself under his stare, refusing to bow or show weakness to him.  His smirk deepened at her as he looked back at her parents.

“King Henry, Queen Eugenia,” he greeted them in a deep, booming voice.  “I am James Barnes, Jarl of the Danes, or Norsemen as you like to call us.”  He nonchalantly took a half eaten pastry off the table closest to him and popped it in his mouth, chewing it slowly.  “What a lovely party.  We missed our invitation,” he said with a sly smile, making his men laugh heartily around him.

Henry just couldn’t help himself as he stood up.  “You aren’t wanted, heathens!  Leave immediately!”

“Now now, Henry, is that any way to speak to the ones who have conquered you?” James admonished him.  “I’ve come to make peace, and you want to scream insults?”

Y/N silently gasped.  Peace?  With the Norsemen?  

“Make peace?  While you murder my nobles and threaten my family?  That’s preposterous,” Henry scoffed.  Y/N glared at her father, silently wishing for him to shut up.

“Well you could either choose peace, or watch the rest of your nobles and your family die, starting with your heir,” James threatened, glancing at Alfie.  Y/N squirmed against the Norseman behind her at the threat.  “And we’ll make some stops along the way to some of your most prosperous cities and take what we need.  The choice is yours.”

“That’s no choice!” Henry yelled and then started to move towards James.  “You wretched, barbaric–”

A whistle sounded through the hall as an arrow was loosed.  It flew straight towards Alfie’s chest.  Y/N’s hand yanked out of the Norseman’s hand that was holding her and stretched toward her brother as she screamed, “NO!”

The arrow stopped, hovering right in front of Alfie’s heart, surrounded by the green light.  The men gasped, James staring at Y/N with an awestruck smile on his face.  “So it’s true,” he whispered.  Y/N flicked her wrist and the arrow went flying towards the wall and shattered.  Before she could even drop her hand James was in front of her.  He looked at the Norseman holding her back and nodded to him.  “Thor, is this the English witch of royal blood who freed you?”

The man behind her nodded and lightly shoved her into his arms.  James held her by her arms and looked down at her.  “What’s your name, Princess?”

Y/N could only stare at his bright blue eyes, her heart hammering in her chest at exposing herself and her ability.  “Y/N,” she whispered.  

“Y/N,” he repeated it like it was a prayer.  “I’ve been talking to the wrong person.”  He pulled her forward to face her family.  “Henry, you’ve been hiding something,” he chuckled as he plopped his chin on her shoulder so they were cheek to cheek and ran his fingers up and down her arms, the metal ones sending chills up her spine.  “She’s the one with power, not you.”  Henry glared at her, a hateful look on his face.  “Oh, I see,” James’ voice became sharper.  “You feel threatened by her, so you’ve hid her away, stomped on her potential to grow,” Y/N was nearly shaking as she felt the adrenaline rush through her.  “She’s a goddess among you pathetic royals,” he kissed the side of her head, “and you wanted to reduce her to a torture device.  You let the magic go to waste.”  He turned her towards him again and dipped his face to be at eye level with her.  “We have magic at home.  We can help you learn and grow,” Y/N’s eyes widened at him.  “So I ask you, Princess Y/N.  What do you choose, death or peace?”

Y/N exhaled a shaky breath as she stared at him.  As he touched her she let her ability slip into his mind.  She could find no lie in his words.  He and his people were tired, the constant war depleting their resources and wiping out families.  They won the battles more often than lost, but it had put a strain on their lives.  His mention of magic seemed real, too, with glimpses and flashes of things that were unexplainable popping up in his mind.  Y/N thought about her people and how the English had been begging for peace for years as well, all of it falling on her father’s greedy, prideful ears.  She could tell James was good, and only wanted good for his men and his people.

“I propose an allyship,” she said.  James blinked and his eyebrows furrowed at her.  “A peace treaty with a tradition as old as time,” she clarified, gulping quickly.  “We join our families in marriage.”  His eyes flicked between hers, like he was studying her.  His men around him mumbled as they considered the idea.  “If you are unmarried,” she amended, since she wasn’t sure, “or if someone in your nobility is unmarried, I will come with you as a peace offering, a marriage tribute.  You will have me, and my power, and leave my family and my people be,” she said, trying to look and sound every bit the princess her mother had always wanted her to be.  “And we will end this war and finally bring peace to our people.”

James stood straight, towering over her.  He watched her for another moment, then stepped back and looked to his men behind him.  Two of them walked up and spoke to him quietly.  Y/N waited on baited breath as they consulted with each other.  They stood back and he turned toward her again.  “Done,” he said simply, the smirk returning to his lips.  Y/N nodded and quietly sighed.  “My Drottning,” he spoke lowly, holding out his metal hand.  She put her right hand into his metal hand, admiring it.  

“What does that mean?” she asked him.

“My Queen,” he winked at her.  Y/N blushed deeply.  He turned to his men and held her hand up high in his.  “We have peace!” he yelled triumphantly.  The thunderous roar returned as they cheered, their hands and swords and axes held high as they hugged each other and drank some of the wine left on the tables around them.  James dropped their joined hands and kissed the hand he held, making her blush again.  “Say goodbye to your family, Drottning, we leave immediately.”

He let her go and she ran up the stairs towards her family.  She ignored her parents altogether, grabbing Alfie and holding him tight against her.  

“Don’t go,” Alfie cried as his fingers clutched her dress.

“I have to,” Y/N cried as she carded her fingers through his hair.  “You listen to me,” she knelt in front of him and held his face in her hands, “you remember what I’ve taught you.”  He nodded frantically.  “Do not listen to Father,” he nodded again, making her father sneer at them next to her.  “I’ve seen it in you,” she whispered, laying a hand against his heart then tapping her finger to her head.  “You will become one of the greatest kings England has ever known, as long as you don’t do as Father has done.  You will bring continued peace and prosperity, you hear me?”  She wiped his tears away.  “Because you are a good boy, and will become a great man.  My little king,” she kissed his forehead firmly before pulling away.

Alfie cried harder as she stepped away from him.  She turned to her father.  “Stay away from him,” she warned him, glancing at Alfie.  “I have procured a peace that you, and your father, and your father’s father could never have dreamed of,” she sneered back at him.  “Do good by our people, for once in your miserable life.”  She glared at him before turning back towards James who stood patiently waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.  

His men were slowly retreating out of the great hall as he held his hand out for her again.  She took it as he flashed one last glance and triumphant smile at her father before leading her out the front doors.  As they walked through the courtyard and towards the horses waiting for them he glanced at her attire.

“Hm, this won’t do while riding,” he said as he twirled her around.  Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him.  “Where’s your lady’s maid?”

Y/N looked around and saw the telltale eyes peeking from behind the stables.  “May,” she pointed.

James summoned her forward out of hiding.  She quickly ran across the courtyard and into Y/N’s arms, sobbing as Y/N pet her hair.  “Miss May, go fetch your princess’ riding clothes and some simple dresses for travel,” James instructed her.  May stared at him with wide eyes, looking at Y/N who nodded to her.  She was escorted back inside with Thor to get Y/N’s things packed.

As they stood there waiting, the snow started to fall.  Y/N looked up and sighed as the cold kissed her face, a welcome reprieve to her inflamed cheeks from the night’s tension.  She looked towards James who was already looking at her.

“What do I call you?” she asked him.  

“You can call me Bucky,” he said.

“Bucky?” she asked, a small smirk pulling her lips.

“A nickname,” he laughed at her perplexed look.  “Saved for those closest to me.  And since you’ll be my queen–”

“So it is you I’ll be marrying then?”  Y/N asked.

“Yes,” Bucky laughed harder.  “I guess I didn’t make that very clear.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed.  “You have a very English name...James.”

“Yes,” he agreed, sighing as he looked at the falling snowflakes.  “We Norsemen and you Anglo-Saxons are not that different from each other,” he said with a twinkle in his eye as he winked at her again.  

Y/N pondered that as May came out holding Y/N’s riding clothes and boots with Thor holding a small trunk that he loaded onto one of the wagons they had waiting.  May ran back to Y/N.

“Go change, and then we’ll be off,” Bucky excused Y/N, who led May over to the stables.  They went into an empty bay and May quickly stripped Y/N out of her gown and into her riding clothes.

“My lady,” May said as she held Y/N’s crown in her hands.  Y/N looked at it and gingerly took it from her.  She stared at it for a moment before giving it back to her.  She gave May another hug.  

“Take it, my love,” she said as May sobbed in her arms again.  “Run away and marry that stable boy, Ben, and use it to live long happy lives together,” she said as she pulled away.

May nodded as she cried, gathering up the gown as she said goodbye.

Y/N came back out in her riding clothes.  She approached Bucky who was preparing his horse.  He mounted it and held his hand out to her.  She took it and he helped hoist her behind him on the saddle.  He wrapped her hands around his waist then she felt him tying her wrists together.

“What–” she started, trying to look over his shoulder.

“So you don’t run off,” Bucky cocked an eyebrow at her in warning as he looked back at her.

“I won’t,” Y/N promised.

“That’s what they all say,” Bucky chuckled before he turned to his men who were all waiting.  “To Danmark!!”

“To Danmark!” they all yelled, and the pounding of hooves rang through the night as they all rode out of the courtyard and into the English countryside.

Y/N’s arms tightened around Bucky, her head tucking in between his shoulder blades as the winter wind stung her face.  She was not going to run and wanted to prove it to him.  She wanted peace, even if it meant giving up herself to get it. After about an hour they all started to slow as they reached the water’s edge where multiple ships were docked, secured by other Norsemen who waited anxiously for them.

Bucky untied the rope around her wrists then dismounted.  He held his hands up to her hips and helped her down as well.  He inspected her wrists, giving them a short rub.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to each wrist.  Y/N was surprised at his affection, but welcomed it in the moment.  He pulled her towards one of the boats.  He helped her step onto it and settled her into a corner of the stern that was covered in furs and quilts.  He pulled one of the furs up and covered her with it, securing it around her shoulders.  There was plenty of room around her as she got herself comfortable.

“It’s going to be a four day journey, Drottning,” Bucky kneeled in front of her.  “This area is for all of us to sleep, so you’ll have at least a few men next to you, but don’t fear,” he reassured her at the look on her face, “they’re harmless.  Just tired.”

Y/N looked around at the men loading themselves into the boat, many of them taking seats at the benches where the oars were sitting.  She felt worried but nodded at him.  He gave her a smile and stepped away to help load more things into the boats.  They all worked methodically together until in just a few minutes they were ready to pull off.  Bucky was stationed at one of the oars as well, giving the signal and they shoved off the shore.

Y/N watched the men in her boat and the others row in perfect unison.  She admired their strength and the way they all seemed to be of one mind as they worked together to get into a good rhythm, making the boat fly through the water.  The rhythmic rowing lulled her to sleep as she snuggled down into the furs below her.

She woke a few hours later.  It was still dark out, the rowing still going strong.  As she shifted to get more comfortable she felt a heavy weight around her waist.  She panicked until she turned and saw Bucky’s peaceful face sleeping next to her, his metal arm resting on her side.  Y/N looked down at the arm.  She admired its craftsmanship, unsure of how he was able to find or create such a thing.  Her fingers traced along the metal, the plates and divots carved like the muscles of a real arm would be.  When she reached his hand she lightly traced each finger with the tip of her pointer finger.  His hand suddenly moved to grasp her wrist.  She gasped as he gently maneuvered her to face him.  His eyes were still closed as he let go of her wrist then wound his metal arm around her back this time, holding her to his chest.  “Sleep, wife,” he mumbled, his voice coming out hoarsely as he kissed her forehead and rested his chin on top of her head.  

Y/N was stiff for a moment until the warmth enveloped her and she melted into his embrace.  She pressed her nose into his sternum and breathed deeply as her hands gripped the fur coat he was wearing.  He hummed as his breathing evened out and a soft snore rumbled in his chest.  It lulled her to sleep again, a small smile on her face.

**picture is A.I. from Pinterest, unknown original "artist" or "creator"**

[oceanspray5]

Its quite well known by now that Ruby Stokes, who played Francesca Bridgerton in S1-S2 and laid the perfect groundwork for her character, was recast in S3. Hannah Dodd did a marvelous job of portraying Frannie so far and I'm so excited to see what she does next with her!

However, if you're like me and miss Ruby's Francesca, I do urge you to watch Lockwood & Co. She's the lead character of that show and her character is not entirely unlike Francesca. Ruby's range and skill is truly incredible! Starting a new show can be daunting and in case you're more into the regency vibe at the moment, I have the perfect (non-crack) crossover fic set in the Bridgerton universe that combines the characters of Bridgerton and characters of Lockwood & Co. while blending their relationships!

No prior knowledge of Lockwood & Co. is needed to read this fic and Francesca plays a major role in this fic as well! I highly recommend giving it a chance and if you enjoy the characters of Lucy and Lockwood in this fic, then trying out watching Lockwood & Co for Ruby Stokes too. She's marvelously talented and would have shone as Francesca were she given more of an opportunity in the first two seasons too.

Ao3

I really do hope people will give it a try! (And no, don't worry, it's not a love triangle fic). I really had so much fun exploring both of Ruby's characters through this story! Also added a bit of Kanthony too because of course I had to! In case you read it, please also let me know what you think of it! 💖 (The last chapter is just the Epilogue that's left, in all other manner the story is complete).

Here's to our two amazing actresses who play Francesca Bridgerton! 🎹💙

[sirenpearldust]

A kiss with Death - part one

series masterlist ⋆ part two

Pair: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 601

Warning: fluff, angst, violence

He gently placed his hands on her waist, turning her around to face him.

She smiled at him, locking eyes, and he felt her sending her love through the bond.

Her hands roamed across his chest as she kissed his jaw, causing his heart to beat rapidly and his blood to warm.

His entire focus was on her, and his gaze dropped to her lips as she bit them, noticing his attention.

Her smile widened, and she asked him something, but Azriel was too entranced to notice what she said.

"Azriel," she called softly, tugging at his hand.

"What?" he asked, cutely confused. She laughed softly, curling a finger infront of her mouth.

"Do you want to get out of here?" she asked, looking at him expectantly.

His ears turned red, and his shadows whispered erratically around him as his wings flared open.

"Yeah," he exhaled, unable to tear his eyes away from her. Not saying goodbye to anyone they sneaked out.

Following her down the stairs out of the River House, they took a walk in the park, the path illuminated by the gentle glow of fireflies. It was a warm night and the stars shone brightly.

He felt fuzzy inside, like a teenager experiencing his first crush and doing something forbidden.

Fireflies chased his shadows, and she laughed, thoroughly enjoying the playful dance.

Azriel smiled as they encircled her, dancing around her.

"You look beautiful," he said softly.

Her face lightly dimmed for a moment, her smile faltering briefly, but neither he nor his shadows caught it.

Pulling herself together, she took his hand and led him to the weeping willow tree.

"You know, if we get married, I want it to be under this tree," she said.

"Whatever you wish for, I will make it happen," he promised pushing a hair out of her face.

"Fine, let's get married in autumn then. I heard it's chestnut season," she chuckled, as Azriel looked at her amusingly.

"Let me retract my statement, I—" he began, but she interrupted him by placing her finger on his lips.

"Ah ah ah, you promised," she said playfully.

Azriel chuckled and kissed her finger, then grabbed her hand, peppering it with kisses. She squealed as it tickled her.

"You drive me crazy," he groaned.

"I love you so much, I can't even explain it."

Placing her hands on his cheeks, she said, "You are truly special, Azriel."

Her eyes turned slightly teary, and her smile faltered.

Azriel's eyes widened with concern, but she leaned in for a kiss, whispering, "I'm sorry," before she stabbed him in the heart with a dagger.

Azriel gasped as pain surged through him, clutching her hand tightly as his face contorted in agony.

His knees buckled, causing him to collapse to the floor. Coughing up blood, he attempted to speak, to ask her why she stabbed him, but his mind was in a panic, a jumbled mess.

He desperately tried to reach out to Rhys, but something, or rather someone, blocked the connection to his brother.

Behind y/n stood a woman, disdain evident on her face as she watched him slowly dying.

His gaze turned to y/n, struggling to recall any of her features as tears filled his eyes.

He could see her face, but it seemed distant and blurred. He saw her trying to hide a sad smile, her lip quivering.

Another voice spoke, "Let's go before they catch us," and y/n uttered, "I'm sorry it had to come to this."

Gasping, he asked her "why?" before everything turned black, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Main Taglist: @bubybubsters

A Kiss with Death Taglist: @bubybubsters @fieldofdaisiies @sidthedollface2 @rcarbo1

[ramayantika]

Devi Sita (Goddesses, Rishikas & Women)

Spring had passed away with blooming lotuses, mating birds, and the call of the koel. Sita, who adored Vasanta out of all seasons, had to spend the most romantic season in captivity by the fearsome ruler of Lanka.

Not one day went by when Sita could breathe in peace. After turning down his advances, Ravan, in a thundering voice, ordered Sita to be sent to Ashok Vatika and to be continuously tormented every day, every moment, until her strong will breaks.

The Rakshasa clan is a merciless one. Their females, the Rakshasis, even more. Their ruthlessness and barbaric ways are known to strike terror in the hearts of people, and ascetics have always been troubled by their repeated assaults.

The Rakshasis, as per the orders of their king, spent no moment to torment Sita. From throwing icy cold water to wake the drowsy Sita to butchering meat in front of her, on some days where they wanted to play with Sita’s emotions a little more, they would narrate how Ravan would butcher Ram’s flesh in front of her.

Spring passed into summer. The humid climate of Lanka made Sita perspire immensely. Sweat clung to her skin, and the sun shone brightly on the fair princess, who sat silently under the shade of one of the Ashoka trees, her mind constantly thinking about the whereabouts of Rama and Lakshman. The summers were brutal for Sita. Though she had spent so many years in the deep forests, she did have plenty of fresh fruits and water to nourish herself, unlike her situation in Lanka.

The Rakshasis starved her, dehydrated her to a great extent, and laughed when one fiery afternoon she fainted. Only when the Lankan queen Mandodari arrived to visit Sita did the queen strictly order food and fresh water to be brought to Sita.

If the days were filled with terror and threats, the nights, though spent alone, were filled with nightmares for Sita, who often woke up screaming Rama’s name, only to feel the cold, gusty wind brush her slender flesh and the rocky bed under the tree where she took shelter.

Yet, Sita, despite all her mental and physical wounds, always admired the beauty of Ashok Vatika. The clear lakes filled with exotic blooms and beautiful sculptures in dancing poses reminded her of Ayodhya. Marigold bushes reminded me of Mithila. The serene fragrance of the yellow and orange flowers made her fondly think of the garlands she wore around her arms and feet in Panchvati. Sita rarely smiled in the picturesque garden. She never got the chance to sit there happily, but there were rare moments in the company of the lush trees and flowers, like one day when a few squirrels nuzzled to her and she smiled truly and lovingly at the small, adorable creatures.

But living beings are capable of sympathy and pity, even for a brief moment at least, but pity and compassion do arise in their hearts. It could be out of guilt or maybe an honest realisation of their crude actions, but somehow, compassion comes out, and the stony hearts of the Rakshasis did melt a little with the cold, stormy showers of monsoon in Lanka.

One night, a raging storm blew by Lanka. The howling winds had extinguished the fiery torches that lit the gardens and courtyards of the grand palace. The Rakshasis too ventured inside to take cover while a frail Sita sat beneath the same Ashoka trees, knees huddled together and arms across her chest with chattering teeth as the torrential rains pelted against her lithe body and her surroundings.

One of them, named Ratangi, combed through her wet, curly hair when her eyes fell on Sita. Sita, who with each day appeared thinner, her lustrous and radiant face etched with greyness and dry texture, signs of ill-health and despair, sat with her eyes closed and her dry lips muttering the name of Rama. Though Ratangi and her companions sat afar, they could read the familiar movement of Sita’s lips to decipher Ram’s name.

Ratangi had pointed to another companion and pointed at Sita. The other Rakshasi rubbed her eyes and said, “She is the enemy, but it would be a lie if I said that I don’t admire her resilience. So many months have passed by, with no sign or message sent by her husband, yet she is steadfast in her belief about him. Such immense strength is admirable indeed.”

Ratangi’s eyes softened towards Sita. Her thick, bushy eyebrows came together in a frown as she said, “Don’t you think we should help her? The storm is brutal, and she is already so thin and frail. It will kill her.”

The other Rakshasi nodded at Sita’s condition but questioned, “What about the king’s orders? And if by any chance the princess gets to know that we have helped her, we will be punished.”

Ratangi dryly commented. “The princess enjoys tormenting this poor woman. She derives a sick joy from it.”

The rain mercilessly pelted the concrete grounds of the gardens. Some of the large ornamental trees had been bent down to combat the rain and winds. Ratangi and her companions looked at each other’s faces and then back at Sita, who had started shivering, but not once did her lips stop uttering Rama’s name.

Ratangi got up in desperation. “This woman doesn’t deserve to die in such a pitiful way. I am getting her over here.”

Gathering a straw hat kept against a wall, she quickly leaped to Sita with large strides and picked her up when the familiar sound of anklets made Ratangi halt in her steps.

“Maharani Mandodari.”

Mandodari, the chief queen of Lanka, stood in the harsh, stormy rain without a cover. She looked at the petite Sita in Ratangi’s arms and caressed Sita’s forehead. “We are all going to pay for this sin.”

Ratangi’s eyes lifted back to the queen, who stood with a passive expression on her face. Mandodari simply said, “My husband doesn’t strictly monitor Sita’s health or her lifestyle here. I can’t free Sita, but as a woman, I can make her life a little easier.” Checking for Sita’s pulse, Mandodari continued, “Sita is to be nursed back to health with treatment by our royal physician. None of the Rakshasis are to be engaged in troubling Sita any longer. Do your guard duties, but none of those sick illusions and cruel remarks. I can’t stop Shurpanakha, but make sure that none of the Rakshasis join her to make Sita’s life worse than hell any longer.”

Ratangi and Mandodari walked to bring Sita inside to provide some warmth to her body. “We have performed enough sins that we have the noose of Yama hanging around us. Let’s leave behind some good deeds, at least for the queen of Ayodhya.”

And from that stormy night on, Sita’s life in captivity in the lovely garden of Lanka improved. She was fed the juiciest of fruits, nutritious grains, and pulses, and nobody ever served her murky water to drink. The Rakshasis sometimes gave some of their garments to Sita, who graciously accepted a few of them.

***

“Why are you still hell-bent that your Rama will free you? Don’t you know Ravan has captured so many powerful warriors and hasn’t even spared the gods too?” Ratangi cries out to Sita, who sits as peacefully as a sage immersed in meditation.

“I am not afraid of death, Ratangi, or my husband. I know Rama, but you don’t. He is kind as a dove, but when in rage, he becomes the destroyer himself.”

Some moments ago, Ravan arrived at the garden to threaten Sita to submit to him. “If you don’t submit to me, O Sita! You will meet with terrible destruction at my hands after a month! This very day, a month from now, I shall devour you."

Sita, who had enough of Ravan’s violent and intimidating threats, especially after the cruel incident where Ravan showed the beheaded Rama to Sita to break her mind, silently challenged Ravan’s final warning with a fixed, fiery gaze.

Ratangi and a few other Rakshasis who had grown to like Sita grew terrified at Ravan’s threat. After the Lankan king left the garden, they rushed to Sita and sat around her feet.

The afternoon sun drenches the entire garden in golden light. The large trees cast dark shadows on the ground, but unlike the hot winds of summer that pricked everyone, the cool winter breeze brings a pleasant sensation to Sita and all the other Rakshasis in the garden.

Sita, in her tree bark garments and long cotton scarves, looks at the shimmering water of the lake. The swans bask under the sun, their eyes closed, as if enjoying the warm company of the sun. Sita smiles and keeps a cheek on her eyes as a small smile curves on her lips.

Ratangi, however, finds no peace, unlike Sita. She asks, “How can you sit so calmly? You only have a month to live. You don’t even accept our help to cross you over to your land. Even if Rama and your brother-in-law Lakshman cross the ocean, how will they penetrate the defences of our kingdom?”

Some months ago, Sita would always sit morose. Shurpanakha never left any chance to insult Sita or scare her with brutal images of Rama’s death. But Sita was a courageous princess, a woman with the resolute determination to survive all odds.

‘My Raghunandan will fight even the gods for me. He is my strength, and I am his. He will fight on the battlefield with your king soon and take me away. And my battle is here in this garden, all alone. I keep winning every day, and I know Rama will avenge me soon. Ravan’s pot of sins is overflowing.’

The other guards gasp. Sita calmly, with a brave look in her eyes, looks at no one but the calm lake. Sita’s words were blasphemous!

Ratangi and her companions look at one another. Astounded at Sita’s indomitable spirit, they closed their eyes and prayed to fate, for they seldom believed in the celestials above to bring Sita and Rama together, at least for one last time.

And what’s a king without his loyal people and followers? Ratangi and her companions grew kind and stretched a hand of friendship to Sita, but in battle they would side with their emperor. A sign of true and maybe flawed loyalty in terms of the ‘greater good’.

Nobody speaks a word. Sita no longer looks at the crushed flowers beneath her feet, but her eyes always fall on the loveliest of flowers that bloom in the garden. The cold doesn’t bother her anymore, and she gladly welcomes the sun on her body.

It’s only a matter of time, and like a lion, will my Rama take me away from here?

A chain of events brought about the ominous sign of Lanka’s destruction. Ravan’s soldiers, servants, and all the guards, Rakshasas and Rakshasis, try their level best to douse the fire burning away their kingdom like a raging forest fire.

Ratangi notices the blazing look in Sita’s doe-like eyes and gulps. The entire Ashok Vatika, too, burns. The dry twigs and leaves serve as fuel to let the fire capture everything in its vicinity. Sita stands on the concrete platform, her head high, and for a brief moment, she sees Hanuman leap across the large roofs of the palace with a fiery grey trail in the sky.

Flames surround Sita, and though she has seen endless fires in her nightmares, this time her face bears a glow as radiant as the enormous orange flames around her. She braces the powerful heat emanating from the fire and draws her eyes close once again with her lips, remembering Rama’s name like the chants of a mantra.

Sita’s open hair flying in the strong winds and the fiery radiance of her face make her appear like Devi Durga, and never did Ratangi think about bowing to another woman except the royal ladies of Lanka. Her head bends down automatically in reverence, fear, and awe at Sita.

Ratangi had seen Sita as the delicate doe-like princess when she was brought to Lanka. She saw how Sita was the rightful queen of Ayodhya after displaying her firm grit to survive and to stay stable after months of mental and physical torment, and tonight Ratangi saw Sita look like a powerful goddess of destruction.

She only mutters one statement after witnessing the surrounding flames destroy everything in their wake. “Lanka is doomed.”

--- xxx ---

The last second chapter of my short story collection titled, Goddesses, Rishikas & Women. There are other stories, some that you all have read, and the rest shall be revealed later in the future.

This scene is my imagination of Sita in Ashok Vatika. I hope I could do some justice to Sita's character.

And if you want to find more updates about this book, you can head over to my id: @samridhi.writes for all book updates and excerpts (meko audience bannani hai apni vahan so you all would mean the world to me 🥹💗💖)

Taglist: @swayamev @jukti-torko-golpo @navaratna @kaal-naagin @alhad-si-simran @houseofbreadpakoda @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @krishnaaradhika @krsnaradhika @ramcharantitties @krishna-priyatama

[hanafubukki]

The song "Seasons" from Rival and Cadmium came into my playlist some day ago. I like a lot the melody so I listen it for time to time. But it's just now I truly put some attention to the lyrics.

Now this is Lilia theme song for this OT3 ship in my brain. Totally the song that would be play during a timeskip where we see him wait for years, decades and centuries until Y/N return. Seeing seasons pass, Malleus grew up and Draconia family happy, Lilia waiting alone, a few silenced flashback with their time together and all the adventure they lived, Silver awakening, his grow, the NRC start...

And the song ending, the day Y/N return from the past, when Lilia found her, and when she offers him a big bight smile. Even he can't hide his teary eyes under his relieved smile. And then a big hug ! 🥹

- 🦋 Anon

(Fanfic References: Part 1, Part 2 )

[Ask References: Ask 1, Ask 2, Ask 3, Ask 4, Ask 5, Ask 6, Ask7, Ask 8, Ask 9]

Hello 🦋 Anonie,

🦋 Anonie, I am shaking you. I haven't heard this song before and I am so, so in love??? It fits so well that I am internally screaming and crying.

Here's a little drabble/scenario I thought up of 🦋 Anonie:

I can just imagine him waiting as time passes and seasons changes. Thinking back on all the fond memories he has of YN. Thinking of all the precious memories he has made with his family. The spars he would have with Dawny (I need to figure out a name for him lolol, or we could keep calling him that too). He remembers blessing Silver and the time his son came to rescue him from the evil Meleanor.

Then years later, Silver wakes up and time continues to pass. Malleus, Silver, and Sebek is growing and becoming fine young men. He thinks about how you would have loved to see them. How you would have adored seeing Malleus teach the boys magic and helped them with their penmanship.

He thinks about how Dawny would have loved to see Silver turn into such a fine young man. How Silver would have made him a bracelet too. Lilia hopes that he raised Silver into someone you both would be proud of because he especially is.

Soon after, the NRC letters arrive and he remembers what you told him. How you attended NRC and he goes with the boys with the hope in his heart that he would be reunited with you again.

Time continues to pass like all seasons do, and Lilia watches his boys make friends and enjoy life at NRC. He meets you but it's a version of you that doesn't recognize him, Malleus, or Silver.

He remembers what you had told him in the past and knows that this you will soon be his YN in time. That the inquisitive looks you give him will soon be those of the fond and loving ones he remembers.

(I am still thinking about this scenario still and how it would go so it might change later on, since we want to keep canon events in the story if we go the "YN came back in time when she was her original age when she was transported to the past")

He sees you and remembers when he first met you, so so long ago. The connections you made with him and the Knight of Dawn. He remembers the family dinners with the Draconia Family. He remembers when Silver was first born. How painful and yet how sweet these memories are, how loving.

He protects you secretly.

Then one day, you go missing and he can't help but hope. He waits and waits with a racing heart.

And then he sees you, at the cottage you and yours had called home. YN smiles, understanding now what all his looks meant, the love he has secretly tried to hide but always shone through despite his efforts.

Lilia felt tears form and fall, feels the smile he can't hold back anymore. YN rushes to him,

He catches her in a hug, twirls her around and kisses her. Oh love, how he has missed you so.

Both of your laughter echoes in the gentle wind.

Welcome Back, Precious One.

[strongheartneteyam]

Realize where you belong.

Chapter 8

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!human!reader/female!dreamwalker!reader

CW: a whole lot of fluff, intense feelings, angst, self doubt, slight reference to depressive symptoms, crystal appears for the first time (she's reader's best and only actual friend), playful teasing between friends, crystal is a sweetheart, some funny/feel good parts, protective neteyam, neteyam flirting with reader, heated make out session, sharing the same bed trope (idk if it counts lol), cuddling, sexual tension, kissing, mentions of being turned on, moaning, love confessions, neteyam licking reader's neck, neteyam using his fangs to tease reader in a sexual way, reader still feels a bit weird about her deep love for neteyam, bad words, melancholic vibes, reader is gradually letting go of her fears and diving deep into her relationship with neteyam. Lemme know if I forgot anything

Hi, my babies! I hope y'all like this chapter. I only had the inspo to finish it today ahaha comments are always VERY appreciated by this author! 💕 I love all my readers. You guys give me a reason to go on and not give up on my dreams (I think some of you already know I dream of becoming a pro writer one day) even when everything is dark around me.

Slightly proofread.

Chapter 7

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

They think I'm insane, they think my lover is strange

But I don't have to fucking tell them anything

And I'm gonna write it all down, and I'm gonna sing it on stage

But I don't have to fucking tell you anything

That's the beauty of a secret

You know you're supposed to keep it

Strange Love (Halsey)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Yesterday had been a mess of a day. But it also ended up being one of the best days you had in such a long time. You finally had the courage to tell Neteyam about how you truly felt about him.

Today you were gonna see Neteyam at night again. You two had come to a conclusion that he would spend some time with you in your room during the eclipse. The fact that the both of you would be alone in your room for hours, when you would be wearing only a nightgown (you just were not a pajamas kind of girl) made you feel nervous in a good way. The butterflies in your stomach were flying round and round and they would not leave you alone. It felt good, though. That kind of euphoria made you forget the many things in life that would make your heart hurt way too often.

You were cooking in the lab kitchen and singing to yourself, in a low tone, excited, thinking about seeing Neteyam's beautiful big blue face again, his bioluminescent freckles adorning his forehead, cheeks, nose, chin… He was so perfect. At least to you. You did not care if the other humans found his appearance weird.

Crystal was there in the kitchen with you, her back hunched as she cleaned the floor using a high tech machine that resembled a mixture of a broom and a vacuum cleaner and had green and blue lights that shone in irregular patterns throughout its handle. She noticed how happy you looked and smiled.

"What's up with you, (y/n)? You've been so down lately and now you're singing while preparing food?" She teased you in a friendly way, laughing slightly.

Crystal was such a sweet girl. She was so calm and nice to everyone, even when treated badly. You admired that quality in her.

She was a beautiful asian girl with straight raven black hair and pale skin that contrasted with her hair, making her look angelic to you. Her smile was also so kind. It was her smile that made you trust her and befriend her the first time you both spoke.

You laughed shyly while looking at her "It's nothing, Crys." That was the nickname you gave her "I'm just a bit happy today. You should be happy for me instead of teasing me!" You were now not shy but mischievous "You're the one who's always telling me to see the good in life, despite the darkness. That's what I'm trying to do." You looked back at the meat you were seasoning and thought that Neteyam was the light in the middle of darkness for you at the moment

Crystal approached you and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek "Whatever you say, little bat. I just wanna see you happy. That's truly all I want." She would always call you "little bat" because she told you that you have kind of a gothic vibe, since you're not really that into socializing and prefer your own company most times and you don't really smile at strangers. According to Crystal, that made you mysterious. You thought that was a bit cheesy but again, not your words. Crystal was the one claiming that. You laughed internally.

"I know, my Crys. And I love you so much for that. You're the best friend I could ever ask for."

"See?! You're all sappy! Something good happened! This is not just you deciding to be positive all of a sudden. If something happened, you better tell me, you hear me?!" She teased but you knew she also really wanted to know 

Sometimes you hated how she could see right through you because you didn't always want to tell her all that was in your mind, even though you loved her so much and she was your best friend. Like now, for example. You couldn't tell her about Neteyam. That was something that, at least for now, would have to be kept a secret. You could only hope Derek would be decent enough to keep his word and not tell anyone about what had happened when Neteyam saw you and him kissing.

༊⁀➷

Even though it was cold, you kept your window unlocked and slightly open that night once again - a small gap, as always - just so Neteyam could come inside your room through it.

When you saw him approaching your window, his dark blue skin looking almost magical in the dark of the eclipse, his big size now exciting you instead of scaring you, your heart started beating so fast, it was just like it was in a running competition.

You practically jumped from your bed to the floor and walked as fast as your nervous legs would let you towards the window. Neteyam smiled at you so widely. Damn, were his fangs sexy… He barely got there and you were already getting turned on.

"Neteyam!" His name came out of your mouth in such a happy tone

"Hi, hi'ì emyu. You look so pretty tonight. I missed your pretty face."

Your heart started beating faster even if it seemed like that wasn't even possible to begin with.

"You're making me blush. Stop!" You laughed nervously as you opened the window for him "Come in." You wanted to call him "baby" or something cute like that but he made you so nervous with his confident but kind and warm personality that you still couldn't manage to do that.

Once he was inside your room, he knelt down in front of you - so your size difference wouldn't be so ridiculously big -, cupped your face with both his big blue hands and kissed your lips quickly. It wasn't a long kiss but it was enough to make your legs feel weak.

"It's late, oeyä tawtute. You have to rest. You should lay on your bed while we talk. I can lay by your side. But only if you feel comfortable with that." He looked you in your eyes, trying to let you know that now he would always try his hardest to respect your boundaries

You thought that the way he was taking care of you was so lovely. It made your heart melt, honestly. And the thought of Neteyam laying next to you in your bed, your bodies so close to each other since the bed would be incredibly small to his na'vi body, made you say "yes" immediately, without thinking twice. You wanted him that close to you so bad. You had missed him all day.

Neteyam was beyond happy with your answer. You walked towards your bed and Neteyam walked right behind you. Soon enough, the both of you were sharing your bed.

"Neteyam…" Your voice echoed in the cold air of your room but Neteyam's warmth was keeping you cozy, his body pressed against yours as you both cuddled in your bed that looked ridiculously small when Neteyam was laying on it, all curled up to be able to fit there with you.

"What, yawntu?" He looked at you with eyes so tender, they made your heart feel warm and you felt truly loved after such a long time not even knowing how that felt like

"I'm sorry I didn't say it back when you said it�� but… I love you too. I love you so much. I don't even know how I can feel so deeply for you if I met you not that long ago. It's been what? 4 days?" You looked concerned 

Neteyam touched your face, making you feel the heat of his big hand all over your skin

"Stop thinking too much. Just let it be. Just feel what you feel for me and don't try to reason about it. What matters is what we feel for each other. What matters is that your heart beats fast for me and so does my heart for you." 

Even though Neteyam had just reassured you, seeming to be calm and unbothered, your words did surprise him. When he first told you, in his people's language, that he loved you, you did not say it back. He tried to think it was just you still being overwhelmed with the odd situation that being in a relationship with a na'vi was to you - he knew that the fact that you two were from different species still weirded you out a bit - but he couldn't help but feel insecure. Now that you had finally declared your love for him, he felt like he could finally breathe and that horrible fear of losing you started to slowly go away.

You breathed deep and nodded. You knew he was right. You were a chronic overthinker.

Neteyam gently brought his lips to yours and gave you a kiss full of care and love. He pressed his plump, soft lips against yours and you kissed him back. You both kept your lips together for a few seconds and slowly parted, looking inside each other's eyes. There was trust there. There was something special between you both, a bond, an energy, something that you never found anywhere else before. Nobody made you feel what Neteyam did.

"I wanna tell you something."

"Please do" Neteyam started to run his slender four fingers through your hair

"I was so afraid you weren't gonna come back for me after that night when I screamed at you." Your heart hurt as you admitted that to him, but you tried not to let it show

"Do you really think I would let you go that easily? (Y/n), listen to me. I know, I just know, right here," Neteyam tapped on his chest, right where his heart was "that I will love you forever. Even if I did everything in my power to get you to be mine and I still failed, I'd still love you until the day I die. So, no, I wasn't gonna give up on you just like that. I'm the Mighty Warrior, remember?" You laughed at the silly name Neteyam calls himself as he smiled at you and chuckled "I'd fight for you until the end, hi'ì tawtute." (small human) "That's a war I'm not willing to lose. No way."

"But I treated you so badly…" You furrowed your eyebrows, gazing at him with sadness and guilt in your face

"I know… but to be fair, like you said, you're not used to my na'vi behavior. I came on too strong. I'm sorry. It's just what you do to me. It's all your fault! You're too beautiful!" His expression quickly changed from ashamed - when he was apologizing - to playful, as he got closer to the end of the sentence and he smiled at you, winning back another smile from you.

His smile was one of the purest things you had ever seen. Perhaps the purest one. So precious.

"Can I ask you something?" You spoke

"Anything, yawntutsyìp." 

"Why do you say I'm "more na'vi than human"?" I know you already explained what you mean a little bit back when we first met but… I'm gonna need more than that." You looked at him chuckling softly, wondering, as your eyes showed him how much you wanted to know the answer

"I think it should be obvious to you as much as it is obvious to me." Neteyam smirked, playfully 

"Why so?" You smiled, confused 

"I wish you could see yourself from the outside, like I can see you. I wish you could see how miserable you look living your human life, cooking and washing dishes inside that kitchen. But, when you're in your Avatar… you smile so widely, you exude childhood wonder, your happiness is so, so contagious… It's like you feel truly alive like that, like you feel free and at home. It's so beautiful to watch. That's why I used to always watch you." He smiled looking down, bashful

༊⁀➷

Some time had passed and it was now getting only a few hours away from the end of the eclipse. You knew Neteyam had to go back to his tribe soon enough. But you didn't want him to go. You wanted him to stay forever by your side, not being parted from you for a single second, as clingy as that sounded. And the best part is: you were almost sure he felt the same way. Okay, if you were to only listen to the rational voices in your brain and not to the voices telling you that you were unlovable, you knew Neteyam felt the same way. You could just feel it in the air when he was around you.

And at that moment, he was showing you how much he needed you in a way that was making you feel things you hadn't felt in so long.

Neteyam was licking the sensitive skin of your neck, making you let your head to the side, leaving more space for him to keep on doing that, as you closed your eyes and moaned, almost too loud, at the way his large tongue lapped on your neck, tasting the skin and massaging it gently. Saying that felt like Paradise would be an understatement. You had no fucking words to even start to explain what he made you feel.

"Oeyä tawtute… my yawne…" he cooed on your ear, kissing the earlobe and using his sharp teeth to nible on it a little bit "You're mine now. All mine, my muntxate." (female mate) 

Neteyam wrapped his tail around your right leg. That felt possessive but in a good way. It made you feel safe. Like belonging to him was not gonna be such a scary, anxious experience at all to you. He seemed to already know you. Neteyam held you just the way you liked it and you wanted him to keep his big arms wrapped around you for eternity. He felt just like an overused, old t-shirt that was already so used to your body that it felt extremely comfy and relaxing on your skin, making you wish you could go everywhere wearing that t-shirt. So familiar and safe.

Even if your brain still tried to tell you it was totally insane to feel like that about a guy - a na'vi - you had just met, you didn't give a damn anymore. Your sick brain already made you suffer a lot in so many areas of your life. You wouldn't let that fucking pink squishy organ ruin your relationship with Neteyam. Not anymore.

༊⁀➷

"How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?

The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,

And the place death, considering who thou art"

Juliet Capulet - Romeo and Juliet (William Shakespeare)

༊⁀➷

Taglist:

@kitsunefirewail

@tumblingdevils

@a-blog-name-2003

@xylobee

@nerdybouquetofkittens-blog

@henhouse-horrors

@lala-1516

@xylianasblog

@samistars

@crazy4books1

@explosiongamora

@lik0

@your-girl-mj

@darktyrantwinner

@sereisstuff

@yeosxxx

@die4niyahhh

@iman-lu

@manumanulau

@im-in-a-pansexual-panik

@hana-yuri

@thehoneymushroomhealer

@melllinaa

@annaibansworld

@siriuslysmoking

@avatar4eva

@ellabellabus07

@badbishsblog

@neteyamsmate4life

@c-h-i-l

@criticallybella

@celi-xxmoon

[cycat4077]

Gator's perfect ending

Spoilers under the cut 😘

In her dream, Dot spoke to Linda about Gator. She said that she could see it in his eyes that he wanted to be good, but that he wanted even more to be like his father.

It was through those eyes that Gator idolized Roy. Though his vision worked perfectly, he was blinded to his reality. Gator only saw the power Roy represented and strived to achieve Roy's approval. Gator ignored all else despite knowing somewhere deep down that his actions were wrong.

Therefore, Gator's literal blindness juxtaposes his proverbial blindness. Blind to truth, despite having eyes, yet finally "sees" the truth after his vision is removed. The reality of his father and his crimes comes abruptly into focus.

We also saw Gator remorseful, and not just because he was caught. He accepted the consequences of his actions and was mature enough to apologize to the one person he had hurt the most: Dot.

What really struck me was the contrast between maturity and innocence in that scene. The Gator from the start of the season would have whined and argued about his situation, yet this Gator was accepting of his reality. It wasn’t a question of if he would go to prison; he knew it was instead a question of when. To me, this shows that Gator has the potential to grow and turn his future around.

But, Gator was also innocent like a child. He had just lost his whole world: the ability to see it and come to the harsh realization that he never truly had a dad. In that moment, Gator looked to Dot for comfort, just as he had when he was a teen. And once again, she was there for him. Gator, like a little boy, needed to know he wasn't alone and asked if she would visit him in prison. His childlike innocence shone through when she promised him his favorite cookies.

Gator's actions this season are despicable and unjustifiable, yet it's also important to remember that he is a victim of sorts as well. Gator's story is a tragedy. His childhood was robbed by a hardened criminal trying to groom his son into carrying out his mission. Gator's ineptitude is likely what ultimately spared him from irreversibly becoming like Roy.

So, I think this was the perfect ending for Gator. He is not the star of the show. This title is deservedly bestowed onto Dot, whose humanity towards others and willpower to survive shone brightly in the end. Gator, on the other hand, was served with consequences but with the promise of redemption. And I think that's exactly the ending Dot would want for him, too.

[coalswriting]

soccer stares - shauna shipman

summary - (y/n) didn't want to watch the last big soccer match of the season, but thanks to some misfortune, she wasn't given much of a choice (approx 1.6k words)

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

being related to coach ben had its perks. you were able to get out of doing pe for the year, instead opting to ‘help him in the office’ (doing homework). you could also hide in his office when you felt too tired to go to class, though he often scolded you for it. still, you were his little sister and he loved you to bits, so at the end of the day, he always gave in. however, ben was as annoying as he was sweet. he always asked you to try out for the school’s ladies’ soccer team, yellowjackets, and every time he asked you, you would say no almost immediately. you were naturally talented at soccer, but you were also extremely reserved, preferring to read or people watch instead of running around in sweaty, short uniforms. the last time you had played, you must’ve been twelve. you were forced to join a soccer club because of your brother’s ties to the sport, and you complained every. single. practice session. truly, you had no interest in the sport, and you wished you could have nothing to do with it.

one morning, your car broke down on the way to school. everything had been fine, and suddenly, smoke began pooling out of the hood. stopping on the side of the road, you quickly jumped out of the vehicle, checking out the problem. “stupid piece of junk…”, you murmured irritatingly, being unable to pinpoint the cause of the smoke.

you arrived at school an hour late that day. between waiting for your car to be towed, and then having to walk the remaining distance, you were already annoyed. the day was getting off to a horrible start, and now you had to find ben, wherever he was.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“yeah, of course i can give you a lift home,” ben nodded curtly, leaning against the door to the staff room, “but you know there’s a big match today?”

“ughhh,” you groaned, suddenly understanding why everyone was walking around with yellow and blue painted on their cheeks, “that’s fine, i can just sit in your office until it’s over.”

“no, (y/n), i actually want you to watch the game if that’s okay,” he smiled, as your eyebrows rose in shock.

“is this some weird attempt at you trying to recruit me again?”, you deadpanned, crossing your arms defiantly. you didn’t really mind watching the game, but you had already heard about enough soccer from living with your brother, let alone him trying to convince you to join all the time.

ben shook his head no before replying, “no, it’s just the biggest game of the season. i want as much support for the girls as possible – they’ve been practicing so hard all year. now, no excuses! see you at the game! i’ll leave a spot at the very front of the bleachers open for you.”

before you could reply with some sarcastic remark, ben swung the door of the office open, walking in. you stood for a second, grimacing at the idea of sitting at the front before snapping back into reality. “wait—ben!! I need a late slip!”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

you begrudgingly sat on your reserved seat as students whistled and chattered amongst themselves. it was quite chilly, considering the time of year, and you felt yourself shiver, pulling your hoodie over yourself. the sky was a beautiful shade of blue with a few odd clouds scattered within it. the sun shone brightly behind you, heating your back up.

you wondered what the girls were doing right now - they were probably in the changing rooms, doing each other’s hair, singing, dancing to music, and bantering. you almost envied it, longing for a close friendship with a team. suddenly, you were pulled out of your thoughts by a pair of two fingers sliding across your cheeks.

“hey!”, you shrieked as your brother laughed, pulling himself away from you before you could punch his arm.

“just popping some paint on you! lighten up and show some support!”, he chuckled, “it’ll be over before you know it.”

almost immediately after, eleven girls ran onto the field in a line. the crowd erupted into a loud cheer as students whistled, screamed, and waved their arms enthusiastically. then the second team ran onto the field, eliciting slightly less enthusiastic cheers. their coach walked over to ben, giving him a firm handshake and began to introduce himself. you watched your brother for a brief moment before focusing on the girls. they chatted amongst themselves, laughing on occasion.

eventually, ben huddled them together and began to talk strategy with them. before you knew it, the game began. there was a ginger girl in the goals, watching the ball intensely. your eyes began to scan the other teammates, noticing a tall, pretty girl with brown hair and curtain bangs, a bleach blonde girl who looked way too alternative to be playing soccer, and then your eyes fell on her. number six. she had dark brown hair with sharp cheekbones. you studied her as if she was a painting, following her as she dashed through the field, dominating the other team with her impressive footwork. she stood out from all the other players, and you couldn’t help but stare. eventually, your worst nightmare came through, her making eye contact with you she was brushing sweaty loose hairs out of her face. she winked at you, smirking a little, and oh no, you melted. she looked like a goddess. you fidgeted with the hems of your hoodie as she got back into the spirit of things, sprinting towards the ball again, much to the dismay of the opposing team.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

once half-time hit, your brother approached you, snapping you out of your longing staring. he followed your gaze, laughing when he noticed number six. “up you get,” he stated, pulling you up by your arm.

“huh?,” you shook your head, looking at him.

“you’re going to hand out water to the team while i go and talk with coach martinez. chop chop!”, he gave you a gentle slap on the back, then turned to talk to his coworker. you grimaced, grabbing the case of waters, and approaching the girls who were all huddled together near a bench. your hands quickly grew sweaty as you walked closer towards number six. you were not mentally prepared to communicate with other people, let alone such an attractive person.

“girls, water!”, number nine announced, turning around towards you. ten more pairs of eyes followed suit, and you suddenly felt extremely small under the pressure of silence. each girl took their turn collecting a water off you, thanking you every time. last but not least, number six came over.

“you’re coach ben’s sister, right?”, she started. upon your affirming nod, she smiled, “awesome! i’m shauna. it’s lovely to finally meet you. he always talks about you.”

“he does?,” you mumbled, barely able to verbalise your words. she was too beautiful, you decided, and at this point, you were doing to fumble her. “what does he say about me?”

“oh,” she giggled, “he just complains about how you won’t join the team. i imagine you hear enough of it at home.”

you looked at her for a moment before sighing, “yeah. soccer’s just not my thing. i wish he’d lay off.”

she nodded along and listened to you as you went on a mini rant. after about thirty seconds, you snapped to your senses, suddenly coming to a stop. your cheeks grew rosy, and you felt yourself become small and uncomfortable in your own shoes. shauna rubbed your upper arm reassuringly, causing you to feel electricity course through your spine. she looked you in the eyes with her intense brown orbs, grinning gently. “soccer’s not your thing, huh?,” she batted her eyelashes, “i don’t know about that, you seemed pretty engrossed in watching me.”

“i.. uhh… err…”, your brain short circuited as you completely forgot how to talk. you looked like a deer in the headlights, causing shauna to smirk devilishly.

“your name?”

“huh?”, you said, before suddenly realising you never introduced yourself. “shit! i’m (y/n).”

she burst into laughter as you spluttered a poor introduction, placing a hand on your shoulder to ground you. “take it easy, it’s all good. i’m only messing with you.”

“i know, i’m sorry. i don’t know what’s gotten into me,” you explain, not wanting to tell the breathtaking brunette that you were feeling Very Gay Thoughts about her.

she finally calmed down, leaning against you as her frame shook from her unsteady breaths; a consequence of laughing so hard. you smiled sheepishly at the ginger girl you saw in the goals earlier as she raised an eyebrow at you. she elbowed her teammate, another girl with gorgeous frizzy brown hair donning the number eight on her jumper, who followed her line of sight. the two of them watched you and shauna sweetly for a moment, before continuing their conversation.  

suddenly, you heard the loud shriek of a whistle as coach ben and coach martinez strutted over. “okay girls!”, ben announced, “huddle!”

shauna gave you a final look. “looks like it’s time for me to go. it was lovely meeting you, (y/n), and i can’t wait to see you watch me at future practices. cute face paint, by the way.”

before you could reply, she ruffled your hair, her hand lingering for a moment. she then left you standing there, jogging towards her team. your entire face must’ve turned a deep crimson shade, as you suddenly became aware of the cool breeze around you. recollecting yourself, you turned on your heel to return to the spot you had previously sat in, excited to watch the remainder of the game.

maybe driving home with ben wasn’t the worst of ideas after all. from there on, you knew that you would watch every single practice and match if it meant being able to admire the pretty brunette again.

[findingnemosworld]

𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 - 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬

( 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜, 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐄𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫. 𝐰𝐨𝐜 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 )

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬.

Trent could vividly recall the way she looked on top of him, the sunlight creeping through the curtains to illuminate her ebony skin, her disheveled chocolate locks creating the perfect portrait to frame her angelic features that were contorted from the pleasure she felt in that moment, her lips were soft, akin to a pillow that he couldn’t help but sink into each time he kissed her, they’d spent their last days exploring each other’s bodies in an effort to memorize each other’s skin.

" Trent " She whispers his name all the while her lips planted soft kisses across his chest before nuzzling her face against her neck.

He wraps his arms around her waist, " Yes "

She shuffled slightly to look up at him, her verdant eyes carried love along with an unspeakable emotion underneath, " Promise me you won’t forget me, that you won’t forget us? "

His heart flutters, and a smile appears across his lips. " I don’t think I can forget you, even if I wanted to "

Indeed, he was unable to forget her – even as the season began, along with the hectic fixtures that overlapped with the International break, all he could truly think of was her ... what could she possibly be doing? was she thinking of him the same way he thought of her, it'd become so consuming of his time that on more than one occasion he'd been asked by his teammates if something had happened as he didn't seem like his usual self, and he wasn't.

Until he saw her, exactly a year after quite an aching farewell.

_

Liverpool had won their bout against West Ham United with an impressive 4-0 scoreline with Trent assisting Mohammed to score a stunning goal that closed off an impressive and intense match - and just as Trent was driving home, he'd decided to stop at one of his favorite spots to eat in which was near his residence, he walks into the semi empty place; and just as he walked in, his gaze gravitated to the figure sitting at the last table in the corner, it might have been a year yet nothing about her had changed save for her locks growing in length and her ebony skin seemingly glowing more under the lights, the sweater she wore hugged her like a blanket, she appeared almost as if she was an angelic entity, and she truly was.

Soon enough, her gaze met his and in that moment; their surroundings had vanished and it was almost like they were the only ones there, he halfheartedly made his order before striding towards her table with a broad smile across his lips, " Is it really you? "

Her verdant eyes, the same ones that had been engraved inside his mind since the last day he'd seen her shone the minute she met his gaze. " It is really me " she whispers with a shaky voice before standing up then leaning in for an embrace that he happily reciprocated.

He cherished the warmth of her embrace as well as the fruity scent of her hair that he had grown so obsessed with, so much so that he often hallucinated a figment of her late at night. " When ... How? I mean ... I thought you said you -um- you were staying in the Us? " he asks, genuinely surprised that she was here, in Liverpool.

She inhales then exhales a deep breath before responding with a soft smile, " I um ... " she giggles, " I applied for a transfer to the branch of the company I work for that's located here, in Liverpool because, to be honest " she heaves out a soft sigh, " I didn't think we would run into each other, but I held faith in my heart that maybe, we would and I'm glad I did because ... here you are "

His eyes soften, " I never stopped thinking about you this entire time, and there were so many instances in which I wanted to call but .. " he paused, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. " I was scared, that you wouldn't remember or worse " he chuckles, " that you found someone else "

She shakes her head, blinking away the tears in her eyes. " I tried " she said. " I really tried but um ... " she swallows the lump in her throat, " Every time I went on a date, I kept comparing them to you because not one of them truly understood the way you did ... and I know that, we both agreed that it wasn't serious ... and this again, a shot in the dark but maybe, we can try it out " she said.

" As in a date? " He deduces with a smile.

" Yes, a date, a proper date ... I really like you Trent, and I don't know if you feel the same way but here I am, right in front of you, asking for a shot, so? " She said with a smile.

Trent tugs her close by wrapping an arm around her waist whilst his other rested idly on the back of her neck, followed by him closing the distance between the two of them to press his lips onto hers, to respond to her question. " I wouldn't want anything more "

She smiled widely, " Let's " she whispers then giggles, " Let's take tonight as a chance to catch up then tomorrow, we'll go out on a proper date "

" Sounds good to me " He grins.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

It’s Not Christmas Without You

Hello @supervalcsi I am your Secret Santa for @hbowardaily secret santa. I’ll prewarn you this fic is a bit angsty (like a little bit 😂) but I heared that you like angst so I’m hoping it’s okay. I hope you have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Warnings: very angsty, mentions of death and images of war

Johnny had always loved the festive season, the lights, the carols, the food and the general feeling that no matter what the year threw at them they would make it to the next Christmas. But this year Johnny didn’t feel even remotely festive. He couldn’t see any hope of him making it through the night, let alone the next year. The artillery barrage had finally ceased, and debris lay strewn across the once crisp, white landscape. Fallen branches blocked his view of the front line but he knew they were there, hiding… waiting.

Loud footsteps drew him from his thoughts as a figure stood over him, blocking his view of the sky that for once was clear. Blue smudges spread between the grey clouds almost like a sign of hope.

“Hey Martin, whatcha thinking about?” Y/n all but threw herself down beside him, her characteristic smile on her face, the wide grin that no matter how down you felt on your luck, could make you smile too.

“That we’re doomed.”

Y/n snorted, “Well you got out of the wrong side of your foxhole this morning.” She rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Well, we are. Kraut artillery is hammering us every chance they get, and when they aren’t shelling us the damn cold sets in and you all but freeze your balls off.”

“Come on Martin, don’t be like that. We’re alive aren’t we, that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, just,” Johnny grumbled, snuggling further into his jacket and shoving his glove-clad hands even deeper into his pockets.

“Right you old Scrooge, you’re coming with me,” she stood, grabbing hold of his arm and dragging him from the depths of his foxhole.

“Who the hell is Scrooge?” Johnny moaned, trailing behind her like a dejected puppy.

“You don’t know who Scrooge is? From ‘A Christmas Carol? Charles Dickens?” Johnny continued to look at her blankly.

“I wish Webster was here, he’d know who I was talking about.”

Johnny laughed, “Yeah good old Webster, couldn’t even go AWOL to help us in this shit. I bet he’s really nice and warm back in that hospital.”

Y/n sighed, turning around to face him, “Don’t be such a downer. I’m glad Webster’s not here. It means he’s safe which means one less of my friends could die at any second. Now I’ll take that as a win.”

Johnny had to admit that it was nice to know that at least one of Easy Company wouldn’t go through this debacle.

“Now come with me and try to smile at least.”

Johnny followed Y/n, walking past foxholes filled with their friends who were still deep in slumber, taking advantage of the few hours of peace.

They approached Y/n's foxhole that she shared with Eugene and she gestured towards the small fir tree that stood a few meters from the hole. Around the tree was strung some rope with rudimental Christmas decorations of fir cones and leaves, a few scraps of red fabric that Johnny wasn’t sure where Y/n had gotten it from.

“What is all this?” He asked, disbelief and confusion evident in his handsome features.

“It’s our Christmas tree and this…” Y/n dug into her pocket and pulled out a ragged looking lump, “is your Christmas present. I’m sorry it’s not much. It was all I could get in Bastogne when I went in at the last supply drop.” Johnny’s face softened, and he lifted his hand, brushing it gently against her frozen cheek.

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” He unwrapped the bandage material from around the gift and found a small, ceramic angel ornament inside.

Johnny's face crinkled into a smile and his eyes shone brightly as he looked down at the angel.

“Thank you, Y/n but you didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” Y/n interrupted, her bright eyes staring up at him through hooded lashes. Johnny had never truly appreciated her beauty until now. The way her hair hung down framing her face, her nose scrunched as she laughed at jokes that George would tell her, the way her forehead creased as she glared at Skip as he won another bet against her. Even now all covered in the dirt and grime of the Bois Jacque she was a picture of beauty.

“Y/n, could I ask you something?” Johnny felt himself growing nervous, his mouth felt dry and his left eye twitched as he tried to find the right words.

“Of course.”

“Well, you know as it’s Christmas… and well we might not make it through the next year… I was just wondering if I could…”

Y/n having grown impatient by Johnny stuttering, grabbed the lapel of his coat and yanked him towards her. “Yes,” she replied before placing her lips against his. The kiss was soft and full of feeling. Johnny felt himself winding his arms around her waist as Y/n fingers delved into his hair, tugging at the grimy, brown lock. Johnny normally would have felt self-conscious about his appearance but at that moment all he could think of was the woman in his arms.

When they pulled away, both couldn’t help the large smile that grew across their lips.

“Merry Christmas Y/L/N.”

“Merry Christmas Martin.”

“Hey Luz, you owe me 20 bucks,” Skip mouthed across the snowy ground to where George was sheltering in his foxhole.

“Fuck off, it’s Christmas for Christ's sake,” George grumbled, shoving his helmet further over his head to shield himself from Skip's view.

“I’d pay up if I were you, Luz. Skip owes Bull money and if you don’t pay up, he can’t pay Bull. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of Randleman,” Malarkey confessed, looking up from his canteen of steaming coffee.

“Yeah right! Bull’s not going to do anything to me,” George’s laughter soon ceased as a large snowball hit the back of his helmet, splattering down his back and allowing the ice to penetrate his winter coat.

“That son of a bitch!”

“Pay up, Luz!” Bull’s hearty laughter could be heard from a few feet away and George sighed.

“After everything I do for you lot. All those Hershey bars I saved for you guys and this is how you repay me. Merry fucking Christmas to me.”

That was last Christmas. 1944. Amid the Ardennes, the snow created a frozen wasteland where the dead lay in shallow graves, forgotten by many.

Patty was bustling around the kitchen, clattering pots and pans while she had left Johnny in charge of decorating the tree with the children. The kids were messing around while Johnny half-heartedly dug through the box of decorations until his fingers brushed against something smooth, familiar, cold to the touch. He pulled the ornament free and with a shaky breath he ran his thumb over the dusty angel. It still had mud crusted to one of its wings and the other hung slightly lopsided where Webster and his clumsy hands had dropped it in Haguenau. Johnny didn’t realise he was crying until Patty laid her hand on his shoulder making him jump.

“Oh Johnny, it’s beautiful. Here let me hang it on the tree,” she reached forward for it but Johnny snatched his hand away.

“No!” He snapped, “Don’t touch it… don’t…” Patty looked a little hurt but she knew her husband didn’t mean it out of malice. He was hurting more than he’d ever admit and she knew the war had been hard on them all but Johnny would never talk about who he’d lost.

“You got it Belgium, didn’t you?” She asked, trying to coax her husband to share his feelings.

“Yes,” he whispered, looking down through blurry eyes at the simple figure. “A friend gave it to me.”

Patty nodded, moving around to crouch in front of her husband.

“Well, how about we put it on the tree? To remember him by. I know he meant a lot to you.”

Johnny stood, moving across the room in slow motion. As the ornament connected with the branch of the tree, it felt like the whole world stopped for just a moment. He was back in the forest, snow covering his helmet as he walked hand in hand with Y/n. Her cold fingers wrapped tightly in his palm, her laughter wafting through the trees.

Patty’s hand slipped into Johnny’s and she squeezed it gently, resting her head on her husband's shoulder she hummed, “I would have liked to have met him.”

Johnny cocked his head to look at his wife, “I wish you had too. They were taken from me far too soon.”

The couple stood silently side by side, their children playing at their feet while music from the radio drifted around them. Johnny felt a single tear trail down his cheek.

“Goodbye, Y/n.”

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @lieutenant-speirs @sharpshootershifty @liberteuniteegalite @msmercury84 @mayhem24-7forever @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @lena-basilone @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @xxluckystrike @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise - c. 13

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of her uncle, that she's loved all her life.

(Coaxed You Into Paradise and High Infidelity Rewrite.)

masterlist for this series.

Chapter Thirteen: Breakbones and The Realm’s Delight (Saera I)

A dozen moons have passed, the seasons have changed from summer to fall to winter to spring and back to summer. Lady Alicent has turned into Queen Alicent - and my sister has become the wife of Ser Laenor. Daemon follows me - as the moon follows the sun. My heart reaches and heaves for him - but I am married, no longer his as much as I’d like to think otherwise. 

Leila is lost to childbirth - her son, Tygos, lives. 

I think of her at night, if I would have the same fate as her. 

My grip on Caraxes’ snout tightens. The fate of childbirth scares me. “Did you miss me?” I ask, petting him with the same tenderness as I would to a babe. “The both of us did,” my uncle’s velvet voice floods my senses. I love him, truly - but my morals would not allow me to lay with him. 

I turn to look at him - his face mirroring a thousand sleepless nights. He was beautiful, I wanted to worship him. 

Something has changed within him. His eyes that shone like stars became dull and lifeless. His lips that were filled with plumpness, were now dry and peeling. His hands that were naturally placed on my waist, now laid on his side - staring at me with familiar longingness. 

“Are you well, kepus?” a frown formed between my eyebrows. He was a sweet man - never intending to worry anyone of his pains. He kept his sorrows to himself. “I am well, darling.” he lied, taking a step forward, his body pressed against the warmth of my back and his hands atop mine as we pet Caraxes. 

I could not stare at Caraxes after that - I only wanted to look at my kepus, and to search for any forms of treachery on his face. He takes a deep breath, aware of my gaze upon his godlike features. I had a lot of ambitions about this life - but if Daemon were to be my husband, there would be no need for ambition - no need to prove myself against my father’s lackeys. I would merely lay on our shared bed, drinking the finest wines and feeding him the sweetest cakes. 

“I can feel your sorrow.” I point out, his body moves uncomfortably.

“Tis’ nothing.” he mumbles, yearning for the same things as I. 

I keep my hand firm on the snout of his dragon. We were one soul - the purest of blood with the purest of blood. I could see it in his eyes and the permanent line etched on his forehead. 

“You can always tell me,” my eyes softened. A year was a mere blink to the gods, but a second without him felt like an eternity. “Do not worry about me, my dragon.” he responded with his familiar coldness. 

My mind flashes back to the years before us. 

There was no tenderness inside him, then. Only wanton and dark desires that radiated throughout the realm. He was reserved - he’d show me his vulnerable side, but make sure to keep his crassness. He wouldn’t say that he loved me- no. He’d say that he fucking loved me. 

He still did. 

My uncle was a difficult creature, but I had all the time in the world to unwind him. He was an open book to me. 

Without another word, he lays his head on my shoulder. Words failed to explain how much I loved him, but I made vows to Ser Harwin. I promised to be his until the end of my days, and it is my duty to uphold those vows. 

Harwin is kinder than most, he holds my hands when I walk down the stairs, he helps hunt sheep for Melarys. I've grown to care for my husband, but my love was only reserved for Daemon. 

— (Switch Pov) 

Harwin was attracted to Saera. He liked how she looked - but that was the end of it. He did not like the way she spoke - or how she rolled her eyes at his every statement. Her jokes didn’t make any sense, and her poetry seemed like a far ocean. Oftentimes he thought that their marriage was a mistake. 

She smiled at him, but it would never reach her eyes. 

They made love, but she’d just stare at the ceiling and lay limp on the bed. 

Harwin had a feeling the Princess didn’t like him - that she tolerated his presence. Which led to him residing in Rhaenyra’s chambers, even late at night. The Princess has taught him about the secret passages - told him that he needed to know it so he could teach his children. 

“The Queen hovers over me like I am some petulant child.” Rhaenyra complains, browsing through the thick book on her hands. Alicent was curious and wanted an heir for Rhaenyra - knowing fully well that Laenor was in line with his own gender. “She wishes for me to have a child, so that she may derail my children's claims.” she rolled her eyes. 

The Hightowers have become overbearing. Otto was hellbent in making his grandson heir. Lancel wanted to betroth his son to Rhaenyra’s future daughter. And Alicent - she was always strange. 

“I don’t see why you’re having a hard time with that.” Harwin chuckles, earning a soft glare from the Princess. “You speak to me rudely, you know that? And you’re the one to speak, my sister is yet to be heavy with a child.” Rhaenyra snides, taking her eyes away from the book. 

Ser Harwin Strong has been formally proclaimed as her sworn sword. Harwin was her friend at court - a better replacement to Ser Criston. 

“I don’t suppose that it is my fault, the Targaryen Sisters are barren.” he jokes. She hits him lightly with the book in her hands. “How dare you?” she gasps playfully, placing the book on her side and preparing to chase him. 

Harwin’s eyes softened. 

“It’s not funny,” she crosses her arms with a huff. “I’m sorry.” he hums, moving his body closer to hers. 

“I feel as though a dagger is always placed upon my neck. My father asks me about being with a child - and I cannot answer him because - Laenor is having a hard time with me.” she groans, feeling his gaze upon her face. 

“ - he’s not attracted to me. He likes men.” she revealed. 

“The gods are cruel.” he whispers, hot breath trailing along her ears. The Princess was given a husband that didn’t want her - and he was given a wife that tolerated him. “I could not imagine ever hating you - if you were to be my wife.” he admits, playing with the rings on his finger (a habit he stole from her.) 

“I wonder often - if we should’ve been the ones married.” she chuckled, and his eyes alternated between her lips and eyes. He was drunk on her love. “I agree,” he whispers, lips moving closer to hers. 

Their lips merged together - tongue prodding inside hers. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, breaking the kiss. They did not think about Saera or Laenor in that moment - only each other, and the bliss that they could bring. 

“Byka ōtor, my little sheep.” she cooed while combing through his hair. “How do you say, dragon?” he asked, staring deep into her lavender hues. “Zaldrīzes, but that is what my uncle calls Saera.” she hums, thinking of another possible endearment. 

“Fire, then?” he inquires. 

“Perzys,” she answers, and he smiles. 

“My Perzys.” 

—

Daemon was a flickering flame without his little girl. He couldn’t think properly or participate in the meetings of the council without her in his mind. He missed the days that she would fill his cup with wine - and they would lay in his chambers playing a Valyrian game called: zaldrīzoti se ropagon. Saera always won, despite his efforts. 

He places the bottles of wine on his vanity - mentally reminding himself to order the handmaidens to clean his room. He had two handmaidens, Freya and Tyanna - they were old ladies given to him by his brother, in fear that he’d fuck the young ones. In fairness to him - he has not visited the Streets of Silk since the start of his informal relationship with Saera. 

He has found that the only person that could satisfy him was her. 

No other pleasure in the world would do. 

A knock on the door reminded him that was still alive. It was one of his trusted gold-cloaks coming to check on him. “Enter,” he commanded, already knowing who it was by the sound of his footsteps. Ser Aran, a newly anointed knight, enters the room - he was a boy of ten and sixteen. 

He raised that boy - taught him all that he could, only wanting their loyalty in return. “My lord,” the man bows, holding his helmet near his waist. “The gold cloaks have been disarrayed without you.” the man reports, eyes begging for him to return. “Your new commander, does he not teach you?” his eyes narrowed, not wanting to speak ill of Saera’s husband. 

“He does - but it pales in comparison to your regiment.” the man asserts, trying to convince his liege that Harwin Strong was not the right choice. “He is a stranger to us - the men have become weak without our father.” Aran adds. 

“Oh, but when I was there - all I could hear were complaints.” Daemon rolled his eyes playfully, sipping on his wine like it was water. “Playful complaints, I assure you - the gold cloaks miss their rightful commander. Flea-Bottom calls us the ‘yellow cloaks’ now, because of our weakness.” Aran informs Daemon's eye twitches at the nickname. 

“Fucking cunts - I built you, forged you, and year into his reign he has already turned my hard work into shit.” Daemon’s hand squeezes around the goblet. “Our loyalty remains yours, my prince. If you ever decide to create a coup -” the man tries to finish but Daemon interrupts him.

“My loyalty remains to the crown, and I am thankful that your loyalty remains mine. You are dismissed, Ser Aran.” 

next chapter>>

taglist. @sweetybuzz25 @newtsniffles @loveandlewis-reads @lovecleastrange @julkaamazing @schniiipsel @mirandastuckinthe80s @areaderinlove @i-yam-awesome @ladystardvsts @gracielikegrapes @sweethoneyblossom1 @issybee0611 @tato0od @daemonskelitsos @delaynew @thisbihreadstoomuch