#there are very considerable odd that i am going to fall asleep now. i am so tired. and i am finishing off current drink in the hopes it +

[piningpercussionist]

ooc

Just wanted to give a big thanks to everyone who contributed to the party stuff today! When I'd originally come up with the idea I didn't think it'd be outside the scope of my blog, but it's sick as hell that it did end up traveling

[laceyeb]

Let me tell you about my day...

It's barely 2PM, but it has been an adventure. It started when I woke up 12 HOURS AGO at 2AM. Because I have all week off work, I decided it was worth it to set my alarm for 2:45AM to tune into the Eras Tour in Sydney and watch the surprise songs because I just know they're going to be amazing this weekend. But I woke up early and then couldn't fall back asleep. I checked where she was at in the setlist and adjusted my alarm accordingly to get a bit more sleep, but I was wide awake. Surprise songs ended at 3:50, so what time do you think I finally fell back asleep? If you said 5:45AM, you would be right. I don't know why I thought I would be able to go right back to sleep as if I've never met me before. It was absolutely a mistake, but I will be doing it all weekend and I do not care.

So as a result of this, I stayed in bed longer than I planned this morning and skipped my walk. I had plans to go to the local zoo this morning, but I was going to put it off until tomorrow since I was so tired. (As if I won't be even more tired tomorrow.) I also thought about going for my walk anyways and getting to the zoo later. However, I decided I would go first thing for when they opened like I had planned. For some reason I decided that I needed to look nice for my trip to the zoo. I wore my cutest outfit and put on some makeup and spent way too long trying to get my hair looking decent. I thought, "Why am I looking so cute for the zoo? I'm not going to see anyone know. Like I'm going to run into my work crush by the flamingos?!"

Tangent: My school district has some sort of like day camp type program this week since we're out of school. It's intended for younger students and some people (primarily like classroom aides, playground monitors, etc.) work during this time for extra pay. I don't know anything about this program and forgot it even existed, but evidently it does. Do you see where this is going? End tangent.

So I get to the zoo this morning just a few minutes after they open, looking extra cute. I'm waiting in line for a couple minutes at the entrance and I look in toward the first exhibit and WHO DO I SEE?! I thought, "Certainly not. There is absolutely no chance. Clearly I'm sleep deprived." But then I saw another employee from my district and a small group of young kids and I realized it must be her!

I could not even believe it. What are the odds?! So I kind of watched their group and they're taking the same path I do, but moving slow because they have a guide with them. I give them enough time to get ahead of me and then continue on. I'm wandering around a bit and see that they're now up on this skywalk attraction. (Bridges up in the trees. Very cool and the whole reason for going to the zoo.) As I casually glance up there, I see someone else from work waving to me. And then I see another person from work at the skywalk entrance and I said hi to him and asked what they were all doing there and that's when I realized it was the day camp thing. So I follow the group up the skywalk from a considerable distance and as I get close, I see they're stopped because their guide is explaining things to the kids. I will have no choice but to catch up to them. And then I hear someone call my name. (Let me tell you. It made me feel some type of way to hear her call me by my first name since she obviously only uses my last name at work.) So I catch up to her and the group and I said something like, "Did you guys plan a party and forget to invite me?" And we both kind of laughed and then I continued on my way. That was the entire interaction, but it made the whole trip worth it. And now we have something to talk about when I see her at work and I will absolutely be mentioning that I go to the zoo all the time and see where things go from there.

[taxiluzern24ch]

Happy Beauty Jarry - Institut de Beauté Guadeloupe

There appears to have been no attempt at dishonesty, according to our investigation. 

Everything you might ever want to know about our minceur treatments is right here on our website Centre cosmétique à Guadeloupe It would be really appreciated if you could inform me if this meets your needs. You can achieve your objectives with the help of multiple tailored treatments. When you first turn on the mincer, a long list of options will appear on the screen. The options are endless when it comes to using cosmetics; primers can mask blemishes, destockants can emphasize features, and resculptants can change their shape. 

They call themselves "The Institution of Happiness for Beauty," or the self-styled "Institut de beauté," and they're a worldwide social reform group. 

Greetings to all the new members of Happy Beauty! Nobody at the beauty school has the right to judge you based on how you're acting right now. Your presence here today demonstrates that you have thoughtfully considered this matter. You are welcome to remain for as much time as you need. Enjoy our hospitality to the fullest. We promise to go out of our way to make you feel welcome from the minute you walk through our doors to the very last mouthful of our delectable cuisine. All of your needs will be met by this. You have complete control over how long your treatment lasts at Happy Beauty. Is that all you have in mind for me? Is that the extent of your plans for me? Is that all you have in mind for me? Is that the extent of your plans for me? Is that all you have in mind for me? Is that the extent of your plans for me? Am I to understand that it is your only expectation? Is that all you had hoped for? Is that enough to make things clear to you? Does that clarify things? Happy Beauty is perfect for you if that's so. This ought to be adequate until a more suitable alternative is found. In any situation when we are both involved, you can be sure that I will give you my undivided attention. If you have any questions or need help arranging an appointment, our helpful Guadeloupean and French team is available 24/7 to help you. You should shortly receive a meeting invitation in your mailbox. Feel free to choose whichever option best suits you. Your acceptance of this invitation is our deepest wish. Give it some thought and don't rush things. This matter is receiving our undivided focus. 

Join the welcoming community of Happy Beauty whenever you like to take advantage of its stellar reputation. 

Relax and rejuvenate in style at any of the several beauty academies that Happy Beauty can secure for you, whether you're in Guadeloupe or Paris Meilleur institut Guadeloupe Both of these places are home to the institute's facilities. You ought to truly excel throughout one of these instances. Acquire as much knowledge as you can about this vast terrain so you can evaluate its ability to assist you in reaching your objectives. The data has been organized in a specific way to make it easier for you to use. Someone friendly from our staff is available around the clock to answer your questions and fix any problems you're having. This will start the moment you step foot in the resort. Stop fighting and figure out a time that works for both of you. This critical matter cannot be delayed any further. Time management is of the utmost importance. You may find it difficult to fall asleep if your journey is longer. Your odds of making the most of this opportunity will be much higher if you follow these rules. Polite introductions are the first step. Your pleasure and health are our first concerns at Happy Beauty. Taking the time out of your day to be here today shows that you've given this a lot of thought and consideration. One surefire approach to express gratitude is to give one's whole focus on the source of that gratitude. You will receive first-rate service, meet fascinating people, and have in-depth discussions about everything in this peaceful setting. 

If you make use of the various medical procedures that are at your disposal, you can achieve everything you desire. 

Our beauty salon offers a range of facial care alternatives to suit your needs. Restoring the skin is a team effort involving all of these treatments. Both therapies are effective because they boost the skin's innate capacity to mend itself. One way to make the most of the opportunities presented to you is to make use of these easily accessible resources. It can be customized to suit various skin types, as stated by the manufacturer. After it's finished, it will definitely affect one's hearing and vision. Hair extensions, manicures, pedicures, waxing, and epilation are just a few of the many cosmetic services we provide. We have implemented all of the adjustments you requested. Our minceur services might be useful if you're trying to cut back on calories. All the time, we help individuals who are less fortunate. These groups often use electrostimulation and hand lipomodelage. While you listen to Happy Beauty, relish in the present moment to the fullest. Please feel free to peruse our website and read the content at your leisure. Any time I think of you, my heart races. Every once in a while, it's nice to get a reward for constantly finishing little tasks. 

When employees are appreciated and paid for their individual strengths, they are more loyal to their employers. 

We promise that the outcomes you get from using Happy Beauty will blow your mind because of our state-of-the-art technology. The clientele will be overjoyed because of the revision. Pressodynamie and cryolipolyse form the backbone of our therapy approach. When compared to cryolipolyse, pressodynamie improves blood flow to veins and lymphatic vessels instead of developing smooth muscles. One way to lessen the look of cellulite is via soundwave liposuction. These techniques might seem dated now that radiofrequency skin tightening is all the rage. The effectiveness of one of them in hiding cellulite can catch you off guard. All of these procedures and their results are together known as "body contouring techniques." Prestigious beauty academies can be found in both Paris and Guadeloupe, a French island. Modern technology is utilized in the treatments provided by Happy Beauty. During your stay, you may anticipate this. Consider relocating to one of these big cities if you're looking for a more varied entertainment scene. Truthfully, I'm still confused about the response to the question. Trying one of these strategies could lead to a stroke of luck. It is possible that your skin tone will become darker and more uniform after the operation. Your subsequent step should be to complete such tasks. 

[charles-rxwlands]

lay all your love on me

okay!! so this is my fic for @magpiencrow's 1.2k writing challenge.

this is based off of the song lay all your love on me, slowed, by putin

pairing: nikolai/reader

rating: general

tags: gn!reader w/ gn pronouns, fluff

summary: falling in love with nikolai lantsov told through several vignettes

or: mindless nikolai/reader fluff with a alina and ivan being little shits

warnings: right off the bat there's a nightmare about drowning in the ocean, and there's one (1) swear word at the end, but other than that, there's nothing

word count: 4.1k

read on ao3

constructive criticism, feedback, and reblogs are greatly appreciated !

I haven't written anything in a while, so i may be a bit rusty, but please enjoy :)

You were drowning, and also pretty damn sure you were going to die out here. Your lungs were on fire, screaming for air, but you couldn't emerge from the ocean for long enough to suck in a breath. Sure, your hand or head breached the surface every now and then, but a wave would come crashing down on you immediately after, destroying all your progress.

      The undulating waves threw you around like a football - a very pathetic one, at that. As hard as you tried to fight the current, it still insisted on moving against you (stubborn bastard), so really you weren't going anywhere. Just pathetically bobbing around in the same pathetic place. You couldn't feel your limbs - the only thing you could feel was the agonising ache in your chest. It was as if your arms and legs had frozen over along with your will to live.

      How easy it would be to just... 

...let the ocean take you...

      Suddenly, someone grabbed you by the wrist. You screamed, which was a mistake; immediately, salty seawater filled your mouth, making you gag and choke. Nevertheless, you valiantly tried to release yourself from whoever - whatever? - had their hold on you. 

      "Y/n, Y/n! Relax, darling, relax," a voice said, sounding out of breath. "It's me."

      You whirled your head around. Sagging with relief, you gasped out the name of your saviour. "Nikolai."

      "Yes. Yes, Y/n, my love, it's me. It's Nikolai," he soothed, running his hands over your wet hair.

      "Nikolai," you breathed. "Nikola-" - a wave reared up on its hind legs, ready to come crashing down onto your friend, ready to take him away - "no, no, Nikolai, NO-!"

   

You startled, eyes flying open. You were shaking like a leaf. Were you cold, or was it just the adrenaline from the nightmare still making its course? You shook your head as if to rid your mind of the dream. It wasn't real. Nikolai had saved you that night. It was fine. It wasn't real.

      But it could very well have been real, a traitorous voice in your mind whispered. Scowling, you cursed your pessimistic side. Even if a wave had separated you two, Nikolai would have fought tooth and nail to get to you again. You would have done the same. After all, you were childhood friends, and you knew better than anyone that Nikolai didn't let go of his loved ones so easily.

      He hadn't wanted you to accompany him on his journey overseas as Sturmhond. You insisted otherwise, channeling some of Nikolai's stubbornness that had rubbed off on you. ("You're not getting rid of me that easily, idiot. So let me come, unless you want me to steal your kneecaps."). 

      A half-smile appeared on your face as you thought back to the memory. Slowly, you got up from your bed. Your blanket was draped over your shoulders. You slipped out of your cabin quietly, walking down the hallway until you found yourself in front of Nikolai's room. He stirred in his sleep when you entered. The door creaked slightly, but it didn't seem like his distress was because of the noise.

      You sat on the edge of his bed. Nikolai, previously facing away, turned over to face you. His eyes were still screwed shut, eyebrows knitted together and an unhappy expression on his face. You frowned. 

      "Nikolai." you nudged him gently. "Wake up. You're okay, just wake up. It's just a dream."

      He opened his eyes, blinking at you. "Y/n?"

      "Hi," you said. A lock of golden hair fell over his forehead, and upon instinct, you reached to brush it away. He let you, not uttering any of his usual complaints. 

      "You were gone," he mumbled, undoubtedly referencing his nightmare. "I- I couldn't save you, and you were gone." 

      You shifted into a more comfortable position - your whole body was on the bed now, with your back against the headboard. He leaned his head against your chest, and you ran your fingers through his hair. "It wasn't real. It's okay. You saved me - I'm not going anywhere, 'Lai."

      "Me either," he agreed, wrapping his arms around your middle. A beat of silence. Then, "Thank you."

      You were more than content to fall asleep like this. Even if it meant waking up with an ache in your neck. Judging from the way he was curled up, practically drinking in your presence, Nikolai felt the same way.

      What a feeling it was to have found solace in Nikolai Lantsov, and to know he had found solace in you, too.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Nikolai's pov

Nikolai watched from the corner of the ballroom as you laughed at one of Ivan's jokes. One would say that he was scowling, but the Prince of Ravka didn't scowl. No - he was simply observing your conversation with the Heartrender with visible distaste. He was not scowling. And he was not jealous.

      You and Ivan were smiling at each other, standing by the refreshments table, mouths moving quickly, the both of you obviously interested in whatever you were talking about. You threw your head back in a laugh. You looked gorgeous. Nikolai wanted to make you laugh like that - more than he wanted to admit.

      The last straw was when Ivan lay a hand on your shoulder, and then snaked his arm around you. You didn't seem perturbed by his touch - no, actually, you leaned into it. He bent down to whisper something in your ear that made you duck your head in embarrassment and lightly hit his chest. 

      Nikolai's glare deepened, if that were even possible. Okay, fine, maybe he was jealous. Did he even have the right to be jealous, though? It wasn't as if he was dating you, as much as he'd like to be.

And oh boy, he'd like to be. 

      Suddenly, Alina appeared at his side, seemingly out of thin air. He flinched. "Alina." 

      The girl in question had a mischievous look in her eye. Her hands were clasped in front of her, the long, flowy sleeves of her dress falling just past her wrists. The bottom half of her gown was a sparkly gold, whereas the top half was a dark blue. The two colours faded into each other at the middle, creating a gradient effect. It was a beautiful dress. You had helped Alina pick it out yourself, if he remembered correctly.

      "Hello, loverboy." she poked him in the side, grinning knowingly. "How's your crush on Y/n going for you?"

      "I don't have a crush on them, Alina, for Saint's sake."

      "Oh, is that so? You do seem... ah, what was the word... utterly whipped for them, contrary to what you just said," she said, tilting her head to the side, feigning innocence.

      "Am not," he argued. "I-," Nikolai paused, taking notice of you and Ivan walking past a couple metres away. Unfortunately, you were too engrossed in your current conversation to notice him. His eyes lingered on you. He only looked away when you disappeared back into the throng of people. 

      Alina let out a triumphant 'ha!'. 

      He directed his attention back to her and glared. "Alina, I swear-,"

      "Utterly. Whipped," she mouthed.

      "I will behead you," he threatened.

      She laughed. "In all seriousness, I really don't think Y/n and Ivan like each other like that," Alina said.

      "Well, of course not," he agreed. "Y/n very clearly has eyes for me. I can't say I blame them - who could resist all this? Everyone's all over me, as I'm sure you've noticed." 

      Alina stared at him pointedly.

      "Ah, except for you, of course. You seem to be the only one immune to my charm and charisma. An odd one, you are."

       She rolled her eyes. "Why do I even bother," she groaned. "Just swear to me that you'll tell Y/n you like them soon. Within a week. Swear on... your dignity."

      "My dignity?" Nikolai drawled.

      "Yes, your dignity, because if you don't fess up soon, I'll have to tell Y/n about your crush on them myself," she grinned smugly, and darted off before Nikolai could retort. 

      He sighed. As he saw it, he had three options:

      1. Blackmail Alina (because of course she wouldn't give in to simple bribery)

      2. Get on his knees and beg Alina to not tell you of his massive crush (there! he admitted it; he had a massive crush on you! One that he'd been harbouring for just over a year now, too)

      3. Listen to Alina, and confess on his own terms

      All three were mortifying, and things he absolutely didn't want to do. However, the last was considerably easier to do, and came with the most benefits and the least consequences. You had already seen him through his most embarrassing moments (and he through yours) so even if you rejected him, the humiliation would be minimal. 

      And maybe he wanted to confess. And maybe there was hope that you liked him back. Nikolai wasn't stupid - he knew when people fancied him. He suspected you liked him back, but then again, that could've been wishful thinking, or maybe he was misreading the entire thing.

      He didn't even understand why he was so jealous of the way Ivan and you had interacted. Before he had fallen heads over heels in love with you, his childhood best friend, people flirting with you hadn't been a problem. He'd encouraged it, even. But now, bitterness flared up inside of him every time he saw someone getting a bit too cozy with you. 

      In short, his feelings for you had completely destroyed his facade of smooth, suave, sexy Prince of Ravka. And it kind of terrified him how poorly he hid it.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Nikolai had been acting strange lately, and it was bothering you. You feared the worst - had he finally caught on to your crush? You thought you'd been subtle until Ivan had approached you at the most recent party. Apparently, the scowl on your face as you watched Nikolai flirt with the guests had been fierce enough to kill.

      Ivan had given you (unsolicited) advice, telling you to be straightforward and direct. That was what he'd done with Fedyor, after all, and that had worked out well.

      You were pacing around your room. Ivan was perched on your bed, watching you have a borderline nervous breakdown like one would watch the view. 

      "You're enjoying this, aren't you, Ivan?" you demanded. "I'm about to make a life or death decision, and you're enjoying it."

      He chuckled. "I wouldn't call this a life or death decision, Y/n. If Nikolai rejects you, he rejects you, and it's his loss. If he reciprocates, good, and you'll be free to frolic in the meadows with him, all fine and dandy."

      You stared at him, your expression communicating, "Did you really just say that?", very clearly.

      "Okay, okay, fine, I'll be serious." Ivan relented. "Just tell him, Y/n. What's the worst that could happen?" 

      Just as you were about to respond - "Well, I don't know, what if he rejects me, things become eternally awkward between us, and our 10 year long friendship is ruined because I couldn't keep my mouth shut?" - someone knocked at the door. You opened it to find Nikolai waiting. His hair was perfectly styled, as always. He wore a dark turquoise suit jacket, and a simple white dress shirt underneath. The ghost of a smile appeared on your face; you had chosen the colour for him.

      "Hi, Nikolai," you greeted. 

      "Hello," he said. "Come on a walk with me. It's a lovely day outside, and both of us have been dreadfully busy lately - we may not get another chance to spend time together, I'm afraid."

      "Oh! Of course, just let me grab more suitable shoes- I'll be out in a minute- Ivan, move." You rummaged around your room in search of the sandals Nikolai had gifted you for your most recent birthday. Ivan flashed you a grin.

      "Tell him!" he whispered as you ducked out the door.

      You hoped you didn't seem too jittery as you took Nikolai's arm, even if your insides were filled with butterflies. He seemed deep in thought for the first few minutes of your walk. It wasn't until you were both outside that he finally spoke.

      "I hope you don't mind me asking, Y/n, but what was Ivan doing in your room?" he asked. 

      The question caught you off guard. Why was he so concerned about you and Ivan? It wasn't as if-

      Oh.

      Oh.

      "Nikolai, don't tell me- are you jealous?" you exclaimed.

      "Just answer the question, Y/n," he grumbled, which was enough of an answer for you.

      You laughed, only feeling a bit bad that you were so amused. Nikolai Lantsov, jealous. You found that incredibly funny. "Oh, I'm sorry for laughing," you apologised, even as another giggle escaped your mouth. "You don't have to worry, Ivan and I are strictly friends."

      He didn't seem convinced. "But the two of you at the party a few days ago-,"

      You cut him off. "Nikolai. I promise that there is nothing romantic going on with Ivan and I. And besides, I don't think I'm anywhere near his type."

      "Ivan likes men, Nikolai," you supplied, sensing his confusion. "Honestly, you need to keep up with gossip - he and Fedyor have been going strong for nearly three months now."

      "Oh," Nikolai said.

      "Yeah, oh."

      "And, uh, do you? Like men, I mean?" 

      You bit back another laugh. "Yes, I do. One man in particular, actually." 

      "Is that so? Care to clue me in on who this man is?"

      "You." 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Nikolai's pov

"You."

      As soon as that single word came out of your mouth, Nikolai's brain short-circuited, and several alarms blared in his mind. ALERT! ALERT! THE PERSON YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH LIKES YOU BACK! 

      He was too stunned to speak, which was definitely a first. So, naturally, he didn't speak, but instead leaned in to kiss you. His lips brushed chastely against yours. A pause. 

      "I- I'm really sorry, Y/n, I should have asked beforehand-,"

      "Nikolai." you took his face in your hands. "Shut up." 

      And then you kissed him, and if his brain had been short-circuiting before, this was a full blown system failure. Sparks flew inside of him, and he was acutely aware of you and you only. It was a wonderful feeling, one that he immediately missed when you pulled away.

      "Wow," you said. 

      He grinned. "I'm that good of a kisser, huh?"

      When usually you would come up with a witty response, you just smiled. It was a smile Nikolai was pretty sure he'd die to see again. 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Falling in love with Nikolai had been a long process. Your simple crush developed into something deeper like a leaky faucet dripping - slowly, but steadily. And then the realisation that you were in love with him hit you like a tidal wave. Drowning you, consuming every inch of your being, but not necessarily in a bad way.

       You came to your epiphany while laying awake in bed one night after a whole day spent with the esteemed King of Ravka. It was a wonder that you'd managed to spend a whole 10 hours or so in his company without getting fed up, Tamar had teased. He did annoy you - and had today - but you bullied him back plenty enough. It was easy being with him. Easier than you were used to. 

       You loved the way his eyes sparkled after correcting someone on their use of the word 'impossible'. Loved how he devoted himself to his country so selflessly. Loved how he smiled at you so genuinely and lovingly, even when you didn't have the energy to show your love in return after a bad day. Saints, you loved him so, so much, and you were so in love with him, too, and-

       Holy shit. You were in love with Nikolai.

       You were in love. With Nikolai.

       A childish giggle bubbled up inside of you, and you sighed happily. What a feeling it was to be in love with the King of Ravka, even if he didn't know it yet. 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

You twirled a small flower around in your hands as you walked side by side with Nikolai, your shoulders brushing occasionally. The taller blades of grass tickled your ankles, and a gentle breeze weaved through your hair. The sun peeked out from behind a few clouds, warming your face.

     Nikolai intertwined your fingers, sighing in content. He craned back his neck to meet the sunshine, eyes fluttering shut. He looked stunning, just standing there with his almost otherworldly beauty as light spilled over his fine features, highlighting every detail.

     "I'm in love with you," you blurted suddenly. "I love you, and I'm also in love with you, so. Yeah. I'm in love with you, Nikolai Lantsov."

     You gave yourself a mental round of applause for your eloquence and tact.

      He blinked. "Oh." The ghost of a smile appeared on his face, turning into a full-fledged grin when he finally processed your words. "Oh. I'm... I'm in love with you, too, Y/n L/n."

      You beamed back at him, and cupped his face in your hands. You gently ran your fingers against his cheeks, tracing a line down to the base of his chest. The fabric of his shirt was thin and soft, unlike the suffocating material his suits were made of. Lovingly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and pulled you close. Your heart fluttered. Saints, you adored Nikolai. More than you could put into words. 

      "I love you," you whispered. "I love you so much, so intensely that it consumes me, and I'm drowning in it. But instead of it being hard to breathe, it makes breathing easier. It makes everything easier." 

      You interrupted your little speech by kissing him, just because it felt appropriate, and continued. "I was so lost without you, Nikolai. I didn't realise it, because as I've proved time and time again, I'm more than capable of holding my own-" you smirked as he rolled his eyes at the jab to his overprotectiveness "-but I was. I was a boat lost at sea, floating around in the waves, with no destination and no goal except surviving. Then you came along, and gave me solace. You were my salvation. You and your endearingly stupid jokes and your wild yet grounded behaviour. You're my anchor, Nikolai." 

      He laughed, but not in the mean way. In the happy way. 

      "I would pay you back with a monologue of my own," he said. "but all I can think of right now is how perfect you are, and how much I want to kiss you."

      Your smile widened, if that were even possible. You met him midway, lips connecting almost desperately. The only coherent thought running through your brain was 'Nikolai, Nikolai, Nikolai.'

      Nikolai.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

"That one looks like a dragon," you said, pointing out a lumpy cloud in the sky.

      Nikolai tilted his head to the left. It was rather cute - he looked like a puppy, trying to figure out what its owner was saying. His right eyebrow curved in an upward arch (you still had no idea how he managed to raise a single eyebrow at a time), and he pouted slightly. Adorable.

      "I don't see it," he deadpanned.

      You sighed and shook your head, dismissing the cute puppy ideology. "Nevermind," you huffed. As hard as you tried to pretend you were upset with him, a smile teased at the corners of your mouth, anyway.

      "I'm sorry, darling, but I really don't!" he exclaimed, flopping back into the picnic blanket you two had laid out. Really, it wasn't even a picnic blanket. It was just a blanket. The two of you hadn't had time to find a proper one before embarking on your impromptu picnic. Nikolai, ever the improviser, had then brandished a quilt from Saints knew where. You suspected it came from Vasily's room, because who else would be pompous enough to own a red velvet blanket the size of China?

      You dramatically exhaled again. "I already said nevermind. Not all of us can be blessed with a creative vision such as mine, after all."

      Nikolai laughed. And Saints, the sound was downright melodic. You didn't even want to begin thinking about all the things you'd do to hear it one more time.

      A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Eventually, he began stroking your palm with his callouses fingers. You bit back a smile, and linked your pinkies together. A gathering of clouds mostly covered the sun - enough to allow only a bit of warm, gold light to seep out. You wondered briefly how Nikolai looked right now, basking underneath the faint sunshine. 

      The answer came to you easily, even without looking at him: fucking beautiful. 

      However, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of staring at him. The last time he had caught you gaping at him like a lovesick fool, he had teased you endlessly. It was ridiculous. It wasn't as if he didn't stare at you. No, actually. He stared at you all the time. In fact, he was doing it right now.

      You bit back a grin when you felt his eyes on you. But before you could tease him for it, he got up suddenly, offering you a hand.

      "Come on," he urged. "Follow me."

      "Where to?" you questioned curiously.

      He smirked. Tugged on your hand. Winked. "You'll see." 

      "Right, that's not cryptic at all," you muttered. 

      Eventually, after a minute or so of walking (and plenty of you trying to weasel more information out of him) the two of you had seemed to reach your destination. A huge tree hung above you, offering its shade. You plopped down, but Nikolai remained standing.

      Strangely, he was looking rather nervous. Repeatedly tugging at the collar of his beige button-up shirt, and kicking at the grass. 

      "Y/n, darling, don't just sit there, you're making me nervous," he whined. 

      You giggled, but stood up anyway. "I could say the same about you. What's on your mind, dear?"

      He took a deep breath, and looked you dead in the eyes. "I love you, Y/n. I love you, and I'm in love with you. I always have, and always have been. It's just- you're wonderful. And intelligent. And charming. And I am so, so glad you are my partner - in the romantic sense, and the platonic sense. If I'm being honest, I'm quite sure I'd be tearing at the seams without you to sew me back together every time I do something particularly foolish. 

      And I hope you'll always be there to ground me. Because I will always be there for you. Th-there's no other way to say this, my darling, but I'd quite like to spend the rest of my life with you, so..."

      He brandished a dark blue box from his back pocket (this probably wasn't the time, but you had to mention that you could never fit something that large in your pocket. Why did men's clothing always have bigger pockets?) and got down on one knee. 

      "Will you do me the honour of marrying me, Y/n?" he finished.

      Holy fuck. Holy mother of Saints. Holy everything. Was this real? Saints. This really was real, wasn't it? Nikolai Lantsov was proposing to you.

      A sob escaped from your throat, and you nodded frantically, not wanting him to think you were upset. "Yes," you said. "Saints, Nikolai, yes."

      He smiled. You knew that he smiled a lot, but this smile was different. Usually, he just grinned or smirked in a devilish way - this was more of a beam. He looked so genuinely happy (genuinely happy, because of you!) that it made your heart soar, and you were pretty sure you fell in love with him all over again for the second time. You'd never get tired of it, though. Not when it came to Nikolai (Nikolai, your husband-to-be!). Never when it came to Nikolai.

      You soon found yourself enveloped in a hug. He spun you around, both of you laughing (and crying). When he set you down, you could have sworn you saw his eyes welling up.

      "Now, my love, those better be happy tears," he tutted.

      "Of course they're happy tears, you stupid puppy dog!" you sniffed. "I love you."

      He beamed into your hair. "I love you, too, Y/n."

      What a feeling it was to be in love with Nikolai Lantsov, and to know that he was in love with you, too.

[lostinthewiind]

Do you think we could get a part 2 to that daichi fic you wrote earlier? I’d love to see how the team reacted 😅

Ummmmmm . . . YES! That fic was so fun to write, you can absolutely get a part 2. Coming right up!

Read part 1 here → Thick Thighs Save Lives

Read part 3 here →Thick Thighs Save Lives Part 3

Thick Thighs Save Lives Part 2

Rating: PG

Warnings: none - just fluff

“Ahem.”

Woken by the sudden clearing of someone’s throat, you inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of Daichi’s body wash and clothing detergent overwhelming your senses and bringing a slight smile to your face. As comforting as the scent had been to fall asleep to, it was even more comforting to wake up to.

Eyes still shut, you were so focused on how comfortable you were with Daichi’s thigh between your own and his warm body pressed against yours, that you had completely forgotten what had woken you in the first place. Snuggling further into him, you grabbed a fistful of the hem of his shirt and attempted to drift back to sleep for a little while. 

“AHEM!”

This time, whoever was clearing their throat made it clear that they were trying to wake you. That’s when it hit you—you and Daichi had fallen asleep tangled together among the entire volleyball team, and now, everyone was awake except for the two of you. 

You felt your heart start to pound harshly against your chest. You debated whether you should continue to pretend to be asleep or open your eyes and face the music, but before you had to make a decision one way or the other, the large figure wrapped around your own began to stir.

“What is wrong with you?” You heard Daichi ask, surprisingly unbothered by his teammates and the managers catching the two of you in this position. “It’s still early. Can’t you see she’s still sleeping? Why are you being so loud?”

There was a moment of silence before anyone answered. “S-sorry, Captain.” Tanaka’s voice finally responded. “We were just . . . why didn’t you tell us the two of you were together?”

“Yeah,” you heard Suga and Asahi agree. 

“Because we’re not,” Daichi told them, surely earning at least a couple of confused looks because he quickly followed it up with, “Let’s not discuss this now, okay? Why don’t you guys start making breakfast? You help yourselves to the food in my kitchen often enough to know where everything is.”

A few seconds later, you heard the sound of a series of shuffling feet heading out of the living room and into the kitchen, leaving just you and Daichi among the discarded pillows and blankets. You could hear muffled voices coming from the kitchen, no doubt discussing what they had just witnessed, but since you couldn’t make out what they were saying, you were able to calm down a little.

“Don’t worry about them,” Daichi whispered to you, knowing you were awake and that you had heard everything. “I should apologize. I meant to wake up before them and shift into a less awkward position.”

You smiled softly and shook your head, dismissing his concern. “Don't apologize. You were just being nice. I appreciate it.”

Slowly, and with what you thought you recognized as a small tinge of sadness in his eyes, Daichi pulled his thigh out from between yours and released you from the gentle embrace he had captured you in sometime during the night. “Get some more sleep,” he told you, quickly taking the pillow he had been using for his head and placing it between your legs where his own leg had been seconds before. “I’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”

“Okay,” you exhaled softly, pulling the blanket over your shoulders fully and relaxing the best you could. When Daichi left to join the others in the kitchen, however, you found yourself wondering about what this meant for you and the sweet volleyball captain. Did he like you as more than just a friend or was he really just trying to be nice and help you out in a time of need?

You would be lying if you said that sleeping next to him hadn’t been the best sleep you had had in ages, but then again, that wasn’t exactly an incredible feat considering the stress of upcoming exams had been affecting your quality of sleep in the past few weeks.

Choosing to push this problem to the back of your mind and deal with it at a later time, you focused on clearing your mind and before you knew it, had taken full advantage of the rare opportunity to sleep in and drifted off again.

You weren’t sure how long you had continued to rest, but when you woke for a second time that morning, the faint smell of food was present in the home and there was a distant sound of running water and what sounded like pots clanging off of one another. 

Letting out a yawn and stretching out your limbs, you rose to your feet and made your way into the kitchen, surprised to see a single person standing by the sink instead of a whole volleyball team.

“Did everyone leave already?” you questioned.

Startled a little by your sudden presence, Daichi spun around from where he was doing the dishes. “You slept for another three hours,” he told you with a grin, “Plenty of time for me to feed everyone and send them on their way.”

“All the while dodging questions about us, I’m sure.” You climbed into one of the stools at the kitchen counter. “They are never going to leave us alone about that.”

“Probably not,” Daichi agreed with a chuckle as he grabbed a bowl of rice and eggs from the other side of the counter and slid it toward you. “I’m sure you’re hungry. I was going to wake you like I said I would, but I figured you could use the extra sleep—and I’m sure you’re happy to have avoided the third-degree from everyone. It might be a little cold by now though, so sorry about that.”

Taking the food gratefully, you smiled. “You keep apologizing for being considerate,” you commented. “Do you always do that or am I just special?”

“I-I don’t know how to answer that,” he replied truthfully. 

You nodded before changing the subject, not wanting him to feel pressured into answering something he might not be comfortable with. “Well, either way, I’m grateful for the extra hours. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

“Because of your legs?”

You shrugged. “Sort of . . . upcoming exams has me pretty stressed, so that’s not helping, and then stress tends to make my legs ache even more. It’s weird . . . I wish I knew how to make it stop.”

Daichi nodded understandingly. “Well, you said a pillow usually helps.”

Shovelling some of the luke-warm food into your mouth, you chewed and swallowed before letting out a small scoff. “Well, apparently, an extra pillow isn’t always available,” you pointed out with an amused giggle. 

You waited for Daichi to say something in response, but when he didn’t and instead returned to doing the dishes, you focused on eating the food in front of yourself. The two of you existed in silence in the kitchen for five more minutes, just enough time for him to finish cleaning and you to finish eating.

After rinsing the last pan, Daichi reached for your empty bowl and washed it quickly before setting it aside. Then, with a heavy sigh and arms crossed against his chest, he turned to look at you. “Was it weird that I did that?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Did what?”

“Put my . . . my thigh between your legs,” he clarified. “Was that weird?”

You thought for a moment, utterly unsure how to answer that. You didn’t think it was weird, personally, but you weren’t sure if that was the correct response or not. “Do you think it was weird?” you asked in return, more curious about how he felt about it.

“No . . . well, not at the time, no. But now I’m not so sure. The others made some good points during breakfast—maybe it isn’t okay to be so close if we aren’t, you know . . . together.”

“If that’s how you feel about it, it can just be a one-time thing,” you assured him, hoping he felt like his feelings on the matter were valid. “A friend helping out a friend—it doesn’t need to be anything more than that.”

“Yeah,” he agreed before his eyes grew wide and his eyebrows furrowed together. “Wait, did you want it to be more than a one-time thing?”

“What? I didn’t say that.”

“The way you worded that just now made it sound like it can be a one-time thing if I want it to be,” he said. “Do you want it to be a one-time thing?”

You let out a groan. “This is confusing.” You folded your arms across the countertop and rested your head on them. “I think you’re making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be, which is odd because of how confidently you played it all off up until this point. If I’m being honest, I haven’t slept that well in a very long time and I found your presence very comforting. That’s where I stand on the issue. The ball is now in your court.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, I liked it too . . . not in a weird way or anything,” he sighed, physically flustered and slowly turning red. “I’m sorry, I’m complicating things with my words.”

You smirked at him. “Then don’t use your words.”

At first, Daichi seemed even more puzzled, but then a wave of realization washed over him and suddenly, the cool and confident captain from the night before had returned.

Walking around to the other side of the counter, he approached you slowly before placing his hands on either side of your face and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your forehead. He then scooped you into his arms, earning a surprised shriek from you.

“What are you doing?” you questioned as he started carrying you out of the kitchen and down the hall. “What about your parents?”

“They’re away for the whole weekend,” was all he said before entering his room and placing you down on the bed. 

Initially, you were nervous about where this was heading, but as soon as you caught a glimpse of Daichi’s warm, brown eyes and watched as he flashed you a comforting smile, you remembered that he always had nothing but the best intentions. 

“I find your presence comforting too,” he explained as he crawled into the bed beside you. “Lie with me. Just . . . be with me.”

You couldn’t help but smile uncontrollably. “Okay,” you nodded and extended your arms out, making plenty of room for him between them. Just like the night before, he held you close and rested his chin on top of your head.

And just like the night before, he carefully slit his thigh between your legs. Then, he let out a sigh and you could feel his entire body relax.

“Daichi,” you chuckled lowly. “My legs don’t hurt right now.”

“I’m not doing this for you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He left it at that, and before long, his breathing slowed and fell into a calming rhythm. 

Despite the fact that you had just slept approximately 10 hours, you soon found your eyelids feeling heavy and the comfort of the bed and warmth of Daichi’s embrace lulling you back into a deep rest. 

“Daichi?” 

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“What does this mean?”

Instead of words, he first answered with his actions, just like you had told him to. Snaking one arm over your waist, he slipped a large hand under your shirt and place his palm flush against the middle of your back, fingers spread wide. He then used said hand to pull you even closer to his chest. 

You drew in a shaky breath, the feeling of his broad hand on your small back bringing you an unexplainable sense of safety and relaxation. 

“I don’t know,” he finally answered, “but we’ll figure it out later.”

[carewyncromwell]

Tulip 🤝 Carewyn

requested by @petite-potato​ / @thatravenpuffwitch

Breakfast had only just ended, and Carewyn Cromwell was already nursing the biggest headache.

"Tulip," the red-haired Slytherin said tersely, her eyes narrowed, "did you really get a month's worth of detentions for letting off a Jumbo Dungbomb in the Prefect's Bathroom?"

Tulip was smirking from ear to ear. "Yep! Thought it'd be the perfect way to celebrate you scoring the position."

"How would making the Bathroom completely unusable to me or anyone else be celebrating that?"

"Hey, you signed up for this, Carewyn Cromwell," Tulip teased. "Prefects are supposed to deal with troublemakers like me."

"Well, fortunately McGonagall already dealt with you, so I don't have to," Carewyn shot back in a rather snippy voice.

The Slytherin Prefect brought a hand over her face and shook her head with an exasperated groan. This only served to make Tulip smirk more broadly than ever as she flopped an arm over Carewyn's shoulders.

"Lighten up," said Tulip. "It's just a little joke, that's all. Gotta make sure you and Charlie Weasley don't get too serious, after all...you especially."

"You and Tonks have already made it very clear how much of a stick-in-the-mud you think I am, Tulip," Carewyn said dryly.

Tulip's eyes lit up. "Oh wow, now that'd I pay Galleons to see -- pretty princess Prefect Carewyn Cromwell, in the mud."

"If you're that curious, just come to a Quidditch friendly."

Tulip laughed. The sound made Carewyn smile a little bit, despite herself.

"...I really wasn't aiming to become a Prefect, you know," she said a bit more plainly. "Snape just decided I was the best candidate. But now that he has...well, it behooves me to respect that trust. And with prats like Merula and Emily Tyler bullying people, and first years needing some guidance in getting through everything -- even just the Cursed Vaults, threatening everybody...well, I reckon there's some real good I could do."

Tulip sighed. "Now you see, this is what I meant by you getting too serious."

Despite saying this, her expression had softened noticeably.

"...Still...I reckon only you'd see a job where all you do is boss everybody else around all day and decide you're going to use it to help people."

Carewyn shrugged. "Well, of course -- helping people is the only thing I want to do, anyway, Prefect or no."

Tulip's smirk loosened up, evolving into a much more sincere smile.

"I know," she said quietly.

That sincere kindness was something Tulip had always appreciated about Carewyn. After being friends with someone like Merula, who was so very self-focused, it had been an odd, but thoroughly pleasant surprise to collide with someone like Carewyn, who was so considerate of other people's needs and feelings.

Carewyn smiled a bit more warmly in return as she got up from the Slytherin house table.

"Come on -- we don't want to miss History of Magic..."

"Don't we?" asked Tulip playfully. "Most of us sleep through the class anyway."

"We won't want to miss it because Rowan's planning on giving us a full lecture on the Werewolf Code of Conduct the instant that Binns falls asleep," said Carewyn with a wry smile. "And because Jae's bringing in a whole box of Fizzing Whizbees, as payment for me beating him in Exploding Snap last week."

Tulip grinned. "Okay, that sounds fun."

With this, the two girls headed out of the Great Hall together, talking more conversationally.

"I heard you joined the Chess Team."

"Yeah, my grans taught me how to play, when I was eight, and I found I have a real knack for it. That bloke McNully has a stick up his arse the size of the Whomping Willow, though, doesn't he? Kept trying to shove dumb theory books in my face..."

"McNully's a strategist through and through -- it's just how his mind works. And there might be some interesting stuff in those books, if you give them a try...McNully taught me a lot about Quidditch, when I first started playing at school."

"Honestly, I think the only thing I'd get out of reading those books is a good nap."

Friendship Drabble Prompt!

[iboughtaplant]

I tried to write angst! Here is a short Geraskier fic I wrote based on the Regina Spektor song Samson. 

A Pair of Dull Scissors in the Yellow Light 

Rating: T

Warnings: no archive warnings 

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier 

Tags: Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Blood, Head Injury, Haircuts, Sort Of, Songfic, Song: Samson (Regina Spektor), a lot about Geralt's hair, I love Geralt's long hair so idk why I wrote a fic about his hair being chopped off

Read it on AO3

Geralt’s hair had always been long the whole time Jaskier knew him. Granted, Jaskier hadn’t known Geralt for very long compared to how old the witcher was.

When he first saw him, Jaskier was drawn to the quiet witcher seated in the corner. His long silver-white hair framing his handsome face. He was then of course drawn to the medallion and swords that marked him as a witcher. Not just excited to talk to a pretty face, but to hear the stories he could tell.

They might not have got off to the best start, but Jaskier...he loved Geralt. It might have been a bit of hero worship at first, this brave, strong witcher with a heart of gold. Branded as a mutant, a butcher, the stuff of nightmares in stories told to small children. But Jaskier loved him first. He loved Geralt above all else. His lute might be a close second, but that didn’t detract from the fact that he loved Geralt first.

It also meant he was already head over heels in love with Geralt when Geralt finally confessed that the love was mutual a few years into their friendship.

--------------------

Soon after Geralt confessed his feelings, Jaskier also learned about how Geralt’s long hair was linked to his witcher abilities. He already knew that its silver-white color was due to Geralt’s mutagens, but he hadn’t known there was more to it.

They were in Oxenfurt and Jaskier’s hair was getting too long for his liking, so it was the perfect excuse to spend some of the coin he earned playing in a tavern the night before on a proper haircut from a barber.

“Geralt, you should come with me. I am sure I have enough coin to pay for you to get your hair trimmed.”

“It’s fine, Jaskier. It doesn’t need to be cut.”

“Well maybe it doesn’t need it, but a haircut can be nice and relaxing. I know you love when I wash your hair for you, and they will do that at the barber’s as well.”

“No, Jaskier, it doesn’t need to be cut because it is always the same length.”

“But doesn’t your hair grow? Is it magic that keeps it from growing out of control?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt answered with a “hmm.” He took a long pause before saying more. “It must be tied to the spells the mages used, however they might have changed the mutagens. I don’t know. I don’t cut my hair. And it doesn’t grow past a certain length.”

Geralt then told Jaskier that due to some odd reaction between his body, the extra mutagens, and the magic of the mages his hair was cursed to be tied to the abilities and heightened senses the mutagens afforded him.

Jaskier had thought that Geralt’s long hair had been his one vanity. But of course it was yet another thing out of his control. But it made him curious if Geralt was the only witcher whose hair was tied to his powers.

“I’ve never heard of another witcher with white hair like yours,” Jaskier said. He didn’t want to ask a more pointed question.

“Because I’m the only,” Geralt said, voice thick with emotion. “The only one to receive a second dose of mutagens. Well the only one to survive it at least. The mages experimented on others before me, but I was the only one to survive the ordeal.”

“That’s awful, my love. I’m sorry you had to endure that.” He paused. “And I know it won’t make you feel better about it, but it is quite dashing, if I do say so.” Jaskier said, edging closer to Geralt and running his nimble fingers through the soft strands.

“How about I forgo the haircut and we can spend our coin on that nice soap you pretend you don’t like. I’ll wash your hair for you. And then we can braid it. A bit of a change even if you can’t cut it.”

“I’d like that,” Geralt said in a soft voice.

--------------------

The yellow-orange light of the campfire made everything glow. The atmosphere felt far more comfortable than the current situation. But Jaskier was thankful for the light it granted. Jaskier scrambled to dig his scissors out of his pack and make his way back to Geralt, unconscious on the ground, only his thin bedroll under him.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Jaskier whispered through his tears to Geralt’s unconscious form as he took the scissors—considerably duller than he would have liked, he had forgotten to ask Geralt to sharpen them for him recently—and began to cut away Geralt’s silver locks that were stained red by blood and gore matted in them.

Unfortunately, most, if not all, of the blood belonged to Geralt, the gore belonging to the beast he killed, but not before it almost killed him.

Jaskier’s hands were shaking, he had to grip the scissors with both hands, one hand supporting the other. He had to cut Geralt’s hair. He had to. They were in the middle of a forest, in the middle of nowhere. No towns were close enough to travel to with an injured witcher. Not to mention the fact that Geralt had already been running low on potions. They were going to restock on potion ingredients in the next town they visited. But again said town was too far to travel when Geralt was severely injured and Jaskier was only human, and would not make it there and back with help in time.

The gash on the back of his skull was nasty. Jaskier knew that head wounds bled profusely regardless of their severity, but this one was quite bad and even a witcher could die from bleeding out.

He kept whispering apologies to an unconscious Geralt as he cut away, piece by piece, the tangled, matted hair and clumps of monster gore to better see the wound. The bleeding had hardly slowed, and Geralt had also lost blood from a thin slice down his side. At least the bleeding of that wound had slowed and Jaskier had been able to crumple up one of their shirts to put pressure on it and wrap a bandage around it.

The head wound was much more worrying. Once Geralt’s hair was mostly cut away, Jaskier was able to clean the wound with the water from his water skin, some alcohol from a flask as an antiseptic.

It was a rough job, but at least the wound was cleaned and the bleeding finally slowed. From his kneeling position, Jaskier finally sank down onto his heels. He could feel the sticky tear tracks down his cheeks. He ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He felt the tackiness of the blood still on his hands.

Geralt’s hair had been covered in blood, only fitting that his was now. Geralt’s blood. It was Geralt’s blood on his hands and he hated it.

Once the adrenaline started to wear off, Jaskier realized his hands were shaking again. Or maybe they had been shaking the whole time. It was still an odd sensation as his hands were always steady. Geralt pointed it out many a time when he had to guide Jaskier through stitching him up over the years.

--------------------

Once Jaskier was done stitching and bandaging, all he could do was wait. Sit and wait for Geralt to wake up. He felt anxious and tired at the same time. Excess energy thrummed through him while his limbs felt heavy like lead.

He looked at his lute, but felt no compulsion to play it. He should probably eat, but any food would probably taste like ash in his mouth.

He laid back on his bedroll and tried to relax. He would be no use to Geralt when he woke up, if he was keyed up and anxious. He sighed and stretched out, his arms pillowed beneath his head as he stared up at the sky.

The stars were bright, twinkling spots of light speckling the inky sky. It made the world feel big, and made him feel small. He was but a small speck in the grand scheme of things. He glanced over at Geralt and felt a smile cross his face. Geralt was more beautiful than all the stars in the sky and twice as bright. The stars were just old light.

--------------------

Jaskier was woken up by Geralt sitting down on the edge of his bedroll. He didn't even remember falling asleep. Geralt was slow to sit down as he leaned against Jaskier’s legs, his injuries taking a toll. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if it was more than usual. Was Geralt human now? Did his witcher healing at least do its part before Jaskier cut his hair?

He was pulled out of his spiral when Geralt spoke. “Your hair’s red.” Geralt said in a slur.

“What?” Jaskier asked, scandalized and afraid. Of course of all things Geralt was focusing on his hair, oh the irony. Jaskier also had the thought that somehow Geralt was seeing the blood in his hair from when he ran his hands through it earlier.

“In the light, looks red,” Geralt mumbled. “You’re beautiful.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier sobbed. In the light of the fire—that he somehow managed to keep burning—his hair looked red. He buried his head in his hands, still curled up on his bedroll. He felt his tears plastering his hands to his face. He couldn’t look at Geralt. He couldn’t face his honey-golden eyes, full of softness that betrayed his hard edges.

He essentially killed the man he loved. Maybe that was a bit dramatic. But Geralt is, well was a witcher. Jaskier just took that away from him when he chopped all of his hair off. His beautiful silver hair. Jaskier knew that Geralt was more than his hair, he almost cried when Geralt admitted that he loved when Jaskier told him all the things he loved about him and his hair wasn’t near the top of the list.

Geralt leaned more heavily into Jaskier and sighed. Jaskier removed his hands from his face and looked up at the love of his life, his greatest downfall. He stifled another sob that threatened to come out and looked at Geralt.

“My head hurts.” Geralt said in a small voice that was out of character for him. He sounded so vulnerable.

“You had, well have, a head wound. It was bad. Oh Geralt it was so bad. There was so much blood. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You saved me.”

“But at what cost, my love?”

Geralt didn’t answer his question. He just said, “My hair’s gone isn’t it.”

Jaskier sat up and wrapped his arms around Geralt, situating himself behind him so Geralt was in the vee of his legs, still on Jaskier’s bedroll, Geralt’s abandoned a few feet away.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered wetly into Geralt’s shoulder, lightly trailing his fingers down Geralt’s arm.

“You did good, Jask.”

“Don’t tell me that. How can you say that? I took it. I took your strength. I took it all. I-I, I hurt you.”

“No, the monster hurt me, you saved me.”

“Are you even a witcher anymore? Can you tell? If I took that away from you, I-”

“I never wanted to be a witcher, Jask,” Geralt said as he leaned his head back against Jaskier. He let out a slight hiss of pain and Jaskier felt a hand was squeezing his heart at the sound.

“I’m sorry. I am. But I had to save you. I couldn’t watch you bleed out. It was the only way.”

“You did alright, Jaskier.” He paused. “Wanna see you, help me turn around.”

Jaskier sucked in a breath. He knew he would have to meet Geralt’s eyes eventually. He helped Geralt turn around in his arms and supported most of his weight as he leaned into Jaskier. He looked into Jaskier’s eyes and Jaskier looked back. He looked into those honey-gold eyes and he felt settled. Geralt wasn’t mad. Jaskier took in Geralt’s face. It was clean, Jaskier had made sure of that. And his hair, of course, was short. Silver strands cropped close to his scalp, uneven in a few—well many—places. The bandages wrapped around the crown of his head. He was beautiful.

Geralt kissed Jaskier then. And Jaskier kissed back. Geralt kept kissing him. Soft, gentle kisses. Comforting kisses. They laid down on Jaskier’s bedroll, Jaskier pulling Geralt’s body on top of his own so he could support him, so his head wouldn’t touch the ground. Geralt insisted on kissing him more. He kissed him until the morning light broke through the trees of the forest surrounding them in golden light.

[dorkotheromantic]

new year’s day

Summary: After a New Years’ party at y/n’s house Hotch stays to help her clean up and it leads to both confessing their feelings for one another :D

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol but otherwise mostly fluff

Words: 1,778

Author’s Note: It’s finally here! Sorry for the short delay in release but I hope you enjoy! And yes the title is based off the song by Taylor Swift so I’d recommend listening to it while reading <3 also this is my first complete little story so feedback is certainly welcome! 

“I hope this isn’t too much to ask but, “ Dave Rossi, your older, slightly gray-haired teammate says to you while glancing to your living room and stands behind your front door, “Y/N Could you talk to Aaron for me?” he asks glancing at Aaron Hotchner, your section chief who picks up some champagne glasses from the living room table.

Your cheeks turn a little pink as you widen your eyes in shock, “Are you sure?” you follow Rossi’s glance to Hotch.

“I’m sure. Listen, I know it will take a bit of coaxing but he’ll open up. He trusts you.” Rossi assures, glancing back at you.

Hotch opening up to you? You want to blush at the thought but you didn’t want Rossi to inquire about your feelings for your boss. It was already hard trying to keep your distance on the job and you didn’t want to worry your team members. Pushing Hotch might make him suspicious.

“I don’t know Rossi, he’s been really distant lately on the job. “ you say hesitantly.

Rossi pauses to think but smiles, “Odd, he’s been saying the same thing about you. “

You lift your eyebrows and open your mouth to say something but quickly close it. Was it that noticeable? Sure you were getting more tired at work but it had been a harsh week. Or is that what you wanted to believe?

“Anyways, be sure to talk to him for me, “ Rossi says interrupting your chain of thought, “Happy New Year y/n.” he opens your front door and waves goodbye to you.

“I will, Happy New Year Dave.” you wave and smile as he exits through your door.

“Em, watch your step. “ you remark at your dark-haired, very drunk teammate Emily. You follow her to your doorway and you open the door.

Emily gives her a look, “I’m not that tipsy.” she smiles as puts on her shoes, “Thanks for throwing this y/n I’m glad I now know how much of an awesome hostess you are. “

You grin and step away from your door, “Yeah, yeah, I am here for anyone’s party needs. “ you announce but look back to Emily. You’re glad you got to see her smile. It felt like for a while she was in a solemn state but with the amount of laughter you heard from her, you like to hope that’s changed.

JJ walks by the both of you to wave goodbye, “Thank you so much for having me. Promise me you’ll host my birthday party?” she jokes.

“Yes, I’ve got you, Derek, Penelope, and Rossi that I’ve got to plan for now. “ you respond counting on your fingers.

Emily and JJ laugh and eventually they both leave. Derek and Garcia both come to say their goodbyes and Reid is the last one to go. As soon as he exits your driveway you sigh as you close the front door.

“You know I meant it when I said you don’t have to stay Hotch, “ You call out as you make your way to the kitchen. When you get there you see Hotch at the sink putting in some champagne glasses.

“Y/N I’d feel bad if I didn’t. “ he responds, his back turned to you.

“Always the gentleman are we Hotchner?” You smile to yourself, “You have a kid Hotch, I’ll handle the rest.“ you make your way to the dining table in another room to pick up some plates.

“It’s okay I’m sure Jack’s already asleep by now,” he pauses, “I appreciate you preparing this for the team and I y/n,” Hotch calls out to you. He walks into the dining room you’re in and picks up a pale plate.

“It’s no problem. I’m just happy I get to see you in a place that isn’t work. It can get… rough at times. “ you say rather quietly at that last part while stacking up plates in your arms.

“I understand. You know I don’t think I’ve had food this good since we all ate at Rossi’s several weeks ago. “ he compliments.

Y/N blushes, “You’re too sweet. It took me several hours to make all of it so I do appreciate that. “ you take your share of stacked plates and head to the kitchen.

He follows there and you set the plates in the sink. You look out the window to see the dark, navy blue sky. You spot the crescent shape of the moon, “You know I was talking to Rossi about this and I was wondering if I could talk to you about it.” you say turning to him next to you.

“Of course. What is it?” he asks. He keeps glancing at the sky, still avoiding your gaze.

You take a deep breath. “He and I feel like you’ve been stressing yourself out too much lately, I mean you get out of work way later than all of us and you’ve been taking on a lot of case reports,” you can already hear his response, “Look I know what you’re going to say and-”

“I can insist you that I’m fine. Sure I get out of work later than the rest of you but I’m getting the amount of sleep I need and everything is under control.” he interrupts, his response sounds robotic, almost rehearsed.

“Are you sure? Hotch.” you turn and give him a concerned look, “You don’t have to pretend you’re not tired. You can be honest with me. It’s just me. You and me, right here. “ you assure him. You’re now looking directly at him.

His eyes met yours for a quick second but he quickly flits his eyes away. As he sets his gathered plate into the sink he looks down at it. He’s closer to you now, his shoulder brushing against yours. You let out a quiet breath.

Being this intimate with Hotch was something you didn’t think would happen. At work, you always felt like he kept you at arm’s length. But now, you hoped he would close the distance and let you in, considering he was physically so close to you.

He takes a breath, “I’m assuring you. And Dave.” he adds,”That I’m perfectly okay,” he moves his shoulder away from yours and turns to the direction of your living room, “I’d tell you if I’m not doing well.” he responds briskly and swiftly walks to the room.

You let out a frustrated sigh but follow him, “I’m being serious Aaron. “ you surprised yourself by saying his first name but still persist, “Hotch, that Baltimore case from last week had to have worn you down. You’ve had bags under your eyes these last couple of days, I’ve hardly seen you eat or drink, and you’ve yawned 2 times more than you usually do.”

He kneels to the ground in front of the couch to pick up plates from the table, “You know I’ve been noticing you exhibiting similar behavior as well.” he remarks as starts picking up glasses, “You’ve been showing up to work late looking like you’ve slept for less than 6 hours, you’ve been drinking a lot more coffee, and every time we’re in a room together you’ll be the farthest away from me.”

You kneel down next to him and grip a glass bottle from the table, you sigh but you figured this would happen. You glance down to the bottle you’re holding and finally, you say, “Fine, I’ll cave. You’re not wrong I haven’t been on my game this week and you deserve to know why. “

You look up and see his head cocked to one side and notice he’s listening intently.

You glance back down, “At the BAU I like the relationships I have with the people there. I consider all of the team my friends, including you. “ you state still looking at Hotch.

“Which is why…when I realized I had feelings for a member of my team I… I didn’t know what to do. “ you fidget with the bottle in your hand, “He’s my boss which god forbid of course he is, and there’s just so much to him that I want to know. But I like a lot of things I do know about him, “ you say as you let out a bitter laugh, “His clever remarks every time I make a fool of myself, his stern stare that I can’t get enough of, and most importantly his smile. His rare but brightening smile,” tears start to form in your eyes, “He’s seen so much but every time I see it gives me hope. Hope that I so desperately need sometimes. I was avoiding you because I was scared. Scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way and it’d ruin everything if I told you. ” tears continue to fall down but you smile. You look back up to Hotch and see tears streaming down his face as well.

“I- I didn’t know you felt this way y/n. I-” he stutters as you wipe away your tears.

You put your hand to his face and wipe his away. As you remove your hand Hotch sighs. When your hand comes down he takes it.

“Hotch?”

“I’ll be honest too. “ Hotch starts, “I told Dave this but you must know. You y/n are someone who makes this team just like everyone else. Your consideration in bringing everyone’s coffee in the morning, your constant cheerleading when others are their low points, to your infectious laugh,” he smiles, “I knew I liked you more than just a friend. You mean so much to me and I..” He takes a breath, “I was worried too. I figured if I were distant maybe the feelings would go away and maybe I’d realize it was not how I felt. But that’s not the case. I have grown even stronger feelings for you. “

You put your free hand on his shoulder still smiling, “Hotch I want to spend my midnights with you. I wouldn’t want to pick up bottles at 2 am with anyone else.” you wrap your arms around him and feel his hands at the palm of your back.

You hear a small laugh from him and he whispers,”Promise me don’t become a stranger whose laugh I can recognize.”

You both pull away from the hug and you quietly respond,“I won’t.”

He smiles back at you and he leans in. You press your lips to his and you kiss.

As you both pull away he smiles at you and looks away.

“What?” you ask giving him a look.

“Nothing it’s just I forgot to say… Happy New Year y/n,” he remarks playfully with a grin.

You scoff at first but then giggle, “Happy New Year, Hotch. “

[planetsano]

sugar rush!

prompt: a very studious s/o relying on a sugar rush to make it through the day after staying up all night to study for an exam.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader, kirishima eijirou x reader if you squint (he's so cute I couldn't help myself)

tag(s): college!au, aged up, domestic, fluff, candy, facetime, energy crashing, weed

warning(s): drug references, cursing

su·gar rush

Noun

A sugar rush is an experience of high energy after eating or drinking a considerable amount of sugar in a short period of time, often associated with hyperactive children.

Bakugou told you to go to bed when you facetimed him last night at 2 am. You woke him fully out of his sleep and asked to keep you company while you studied.

“What the fuck do you want?” Bakugou rubbed at his eyes trying to adjust to the sudden brightness from his phone. His eyes were extra sensitive waking up from his slumber. You were lucky because if it was anyone else he would have let the phone ring and went back to bed.

“Did I wake you? I'm sorry.” You puffed your cheeks out holding your phone closer to your face. The angle wasn't flattering, but Bakugou and you were past that point in your relationship. You were 100% positive he’s screenshotted and taken at least 1,000 ugly pictures of you. You have some of him but they always seem to magically disappear. You should really put a lock on your phone.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Bakugou was in full view now. Head propped against his pillows, hair messy, and muscles exposed from wearing a black tank top. His room was dark but his face was illuminated from the brightness of his phone. His looks never failed to make your tummy do flips. How did you land a hottie like this?

“Yeah.. I know it's late, but I want company! I feel like I'm gonna fall asleep but I have to study more.” You propped your phone against some books giving him a full view of your set up. Papers, notebooks, colorful pens and highlighters seemingly scattered randomly throughout your desk. You sat in your chair with one leg to your chest and the other planted on the ground making your chair spin from side to side. He thought you looked cute like this. Pajamas, messy hair, and glasses falling off the bridge of your nose.

“You need to sleep.” He sighed. You just rolled your eyes and picked up a textbook that was out of frame.

“I'll sleep when I'm dead.” You said nonchalantly as you opened the book and started flipping through the pages.

“I'm serious. You're going to have zero energy for tomorrow. Go to bed.” Bakugou chastised you and you sighed heavily.

“Ugh, fine. You're no fun anyway.”

Knowing you, he should have known you weren't going to listen to him last night. He thought that maybe he should've blown up your door to see if you were okay. It became the morning routine for the both of you when you first started dating. He’d knock on your door to walk you to class and you’d greet him with a sweet smile and a kiss. Everyday it was somewhere different. One day it's his lips, then the next it could be on the cheek, and his personal favorite is when you stand on your tippy toes to try to kiss his forehead. But that didn't happen today because you didn't answer.

So it was safe to say that Bakugou was a little peeved when he got to class without you by his side. He entered the classroom to see some extras idly chatting with their peers and some doing homework at the last minute. Denki and Mina were chatting towards the back of the classroom. Mina noticed the angry blond and waved him over. Bakugou walked up and greeted them both with a low hum.

“Where's (Name)?” Mina asked, tilting her head to the side. It was odd seeing Bakugou by himself.

“Don't know.” Bakugou answered bluntly.

“Aw, don't tell me you've gone and made her mad.” Mina teased. Bakugou rolled his eyes and mumbled a low “shut up.”

“Now that I think of it, where's Kirishima? I didn't see him this morning either.” Denki added.

The three continued to chat but Bakugou wasn't paying attention at all. All their talking was background noise at this point being washed out by his thoughts. He was becoming more and more anxious as the minutes went by. Class was starting soon and most of everyone had already come into the lecture room.

Were you okay?

Are you sick?

Did you need help?

Were just a couple thoughts running through his mind so you could only imagine the relief and annoyance he felt when he saw you bop into the classroom with Kirishima. He had to do a double take because not only was weird hair giving you a piggyback ride, you were pouring three pixy stix in your mouth.

Bakugou watched you hop off Kirishima’s back and happily greet your friends (which was practically the entire classroom) like an energized puppy. You went to Izuku and happily squeezed his cheeks together between your dainty hands. He didn't mind, he thought your high energy was amazing.

“Good morning, Midoriya!” You smiled at him.

“G-ood mornin-g, (Name)!” His voice was somewhat muffled as he spoke but nonetheless he had a smile on his face.

“You’re so squishy just like a mochi!.” You continued to squeeze his chubby cheeks together as the three watched on.

“(Name) is being kind of..” Denki trailed off.

Hyper was the word he was looking for. You were hyper and practically bouncing off the walls like one of those tiny rainbow balls kids got out of the candy machine for 50 cents.

“Annoying? Yeah.” Bakugou said in his usual harsh tone and started to walk over to you. He was sure to give Kirishima a death glare as he walked past him to get to Mina and Denki.

“What'd I do?” A confused Kirishima asked Denki and Mina. He knew he was going to get an earful from his friend later.

All three of them watched the irritated blond tap your shoulder. You looked excited to see him and waved Izuku goodbye while Bakugou took you to another quiet corner of the lecture hall.

“What's with you?” Bakugou asked, looking down at you.

“Whaddya mean?” You looked down at your fingers and started twiddling them together under his stare.

“You're boppin’ around like you just did 80 lines of coke.” He said.

“Am not!” You looked up at him with furrowed brows, crossed your arms then stomped your foot childishly. You weren't scaring him if that's what you thought. He also noticed that your tongue was stained blue.

“You are.” He squeezed your nose gently. “What's got you so wired?”

“I didn't sleep at all last night so Kiri brought me some candy and a slushie this morning.” You answered.

“Candy?”

“Yeah!”

“Ever heard of coffee?”

“I don't like coffee.”

“You're going to crash, you know that right?” Bakugou asked.

“It's okay ‘cause you're going to catch me, right, handsome?” You kissed his cheek and on cue the bell rang.

Throughout the entire exam Bakugou couldn't help but to keep glancing at you in your seat. Your foot was tapping rapidly against the floor as you focused on your test. Every now and again he would see you sneak some form of candy into your mouth. Your eyes never left your test when your hand slid into your bag pulling out a gummy worm. It was such a contracting sight, being incredibly focused on the exam in front of you all while chewing on something as silly as a gummy worm. Eventually class ended and exams were turned in. You were pretty confident.

By the time lunch came around, you were completely drained. In the middle of your third class your energy plummeted and all you wanted to do was sleep. You could barely keep your head lifted without slipping into sleep. You were so happy lunch came around in hopes some food would pull you through the rest of the day.

When you walked into the cafe Mina spotted you and waved you over to the table. Everyone greeted you and soon you sat next to Bakugou who had saved a seat for you.

“Hey guys.” You smiled putting your bag on the table in front of you.

“So, (Name)! We were all thinking we should hang out tonight.” Mina smiled at you with an eager smile.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the plan?” You yawned and rested your head on Bakugou’s shoulder and wrapped your arms around his bicep.

“Game night!” Kiri exclaimed.

“And a hot box.” Denki added and high-fived Kiri.

The table continued to converse about the later plans and that's when Bakugou leaned over to whisper to you.

“You gonna eat?” He asked.

“No, ‘m not hungry..” You said quietly feeling your eyes start to droop. Soon enough you were

“So how does that sound (Name)? (Na-) Oh, she's asleep.” Mina laughed at the sight. You were fully asleep, still holding onto Bakugou’s arm like it was your pillow.

“I told her to go to sleep last night but she's fucking hardheaded.” Bakugou shook his head looking at you as you were fast asleep.

“Man! I thought the candy was working!” Kirishima frowned that his plan didn't work.

“I mean, it was for a little bit.” Denki said.

“I'm gonna take her back to the dorms so she can rest.” Bakugou said and gently shook you awake.

“Wah- Was I asleep?” You asked dazedly.

“Get up dummy, I'm taking you to your room.” He said.

He spent the rest of the afternoon with you, napping the afternoon away.

[p-artsypants]

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (2)

Autumn Serenade

Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

Ao3 | FF.net

--

Many hours later, the door clicked closed, and Marinette sat up straight in attention. “Adrien?”

“No girl, just me,” said Alya. “Did you sleep at the table all night?”

Sunlight poured in the window. 

“I guess I did.” Marinette rubbed at her eye, smearing her mascara. “What time is it?” 

“Morning time. Almost 8. I’m surprised Sunshine isn’t still here. I have expected to catch you both cuddling on the couch together. Did you just…fall asleep at the table?” 

Marinette didn’t answer, her eyes welling up with tears. 

“Marinette?”

“He bailed on me. Ghosted me. Not even a text.” 

“He what!?” She shrieked. “Why that dumb little—“ Alya whipped out her phone, and called someone, putting them on speaker. 

“He didn’t answer me, Alya, don’t even try.” 

Instead, Nino’s voice spoke over the line. “What did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget anything! It was that Best Man of yours!” 

“Adrien? What did stuffed-with-fluff forget?”

“He forgot Marinette!” 

“Marinette? He ghosted her!?” 

“Yes! He never showed! And he’s not answering any calls, so you better get a good excuse from him! He better be dead or in the hospital, or I’ll put him there!” 

“Alya…” Marinette said weakly. “I’m sure he has a good excuse…” 

“I’ll call him,” Nino promised. “I’ll figure this all out. He’s a good boy, I know he wouldn’t just…not call.” 

“I want to believe that too,” Alya said with pain in her voice. 

Then, Marinette’s phone rang, and she hurriedly answered it, not looking at the number. “Hello?”

“Hello Miss Dupain-Cheng,” said Nathalie.

“Oh, good morning.” 

“I’m calling to inform you that next week, you’ll be working from the office all week. Mr. Agreste is…feeling unwell.” 

“Oh, okay. Thank you for letting me know. By chance, is Adrien there?”

“No.” And without anything else, Nathalie hung up. 

“Rude,” Marinette muttered to herself. “Something smells fishy.” 

Nino called back a minute later. “I can’t get a hold of Adrien either. He’s not answering his phone.” 

Alya frowned, arms crossed. “Fishy indeed.” 

“Well, he can’t avoid me forever. I am Gabriel’s intern, so I’ll corner him sometime.” Then a horrible realization came over Marinette. “Oh god, he didn’t actually ask me out!” 

“What? Did you daydream this whole thing?!”

“No! He asked me if I wanted to have dinner, and he said he had something important he wanted to tell me! But he never clarified that it was a date! I kissed his cheek! What if he panicked!? Alya, this is my fault!” 

Nino laughed from the other end of the line. “Dude, this is so not your fault. It sounded like a date to me. He still owes you an explanation. Regardless of what type. Don’t blame yourself.” 

“Nino’s got it right, Marinette. You didn’t do anything wrong. When he stops being such a butthead, he’ll come groveling. I promise.” 

“Yeah, well, we can only hope.” 

Through the trees

Comes Autumn with her serenade

Melodies

The sweetest music ever played

Autumn kisses we knew

Are beautiful souvenirs

A whole week of silence was torture. Marinette continued to go to work, and put on her big girl pants and acted like everything was fine. Gabriel only communicated to her through emails, and she was unanimously thrust into the leadership role in his absence. 

It was frustrating, annoying, and stressful, since she was not prepared to become CEO overnight. By the end of the week, she had run herself ragged. Fueled by coffee and fear of failure, she wrapped up her last project for the evening, and went back to the apartment. 

There, blessedly, Alya and Nino greeted her with hugs and leftovers. 

“Rough day?”

“Rough week! Mr. Agreste has been basically AWOL, and I’m the one filling in! He doesn’t answer my phone calls or texts, and answers my emails an hour after the fact. I’m exhausted!”

“And Nathalie didn’t say anything to you?” 

“Nope, she’s sealed up tight. Apparently, Gabriel is sick. But I can’t get any news about Adrien. Honestly, I’m about one mental breakdown away from breaking down the gates and demanding answers.” 

Alya chuckled. “No need to be so drastic, Marinette. Maybe both of them got the flu, and Nathalie is forbidding them from doing anything but resting. You know how strict she is.” 

Marinette kicked off her shoes and leaned her head back on the couch. “I know, I know, and you’re probably right. It might be best if I come up with a plan in case this ever happens again. Specifically Gabriel getting sick, not Adrien being a coward.” 

“It’s weird though,” Said Nino. “Adrien’s always been overly considerate. Even after all this time, he still asks too many questions about social faux pas. For him to just ghost you, for a whole week even; it’s concerning.” 

Marinette had tried not to think like that. Adrien being awkward and scared was so much easier to stomach than something tragic befalling him. 

And yet, if it had, wouldn’t she know by now? 

She took out her phone, and called Nathalie, much to the curious gazes of Nino and Alya. 

“Hello Marinette.” The woman greeted, as stoic as ever. “I was under the impression that you were done for the night.” 

“I am. I just...haven’t heard from Adrien all week.” 

“With Gabriel ill, Adrien has been busy, much like you. It wouldn’t surprise me that social calls would fall to the wayside.” 

“I was just...worried. Is he there?” 

“Yes. He’s fine.” 

“Can I talk to him?” 

“He’s asleep. He’s had a hard week. You’ll see him Monday, as Mr. Agreste wants you working at the manor.” 

“Oh, okay then. I guess...thank you, Nathalie.” 

“You're welcome.” The call ended. 

“So he’s not dead in a ditch.” Marinette announced. “Nathalie said he’s asleep. And I’ll see him Monday.” 

Nino frowned, though he didn’t say anything. 

It was just...odd.

As I pause to recall

The leaves seem to fall like tears

Silver stars

Were clinging to an Autumn sky

Monday morning, Marinette went over to the mansion. She rang the bell, and the gates opened. She crossed the quiet drive, the gates shutting behind her, and approached the door. 

There was usually someone there to open it to greet her, whether it was Nathalie or the Gorilla. Not this time. 

Marinette took hold of the handle and opened it herself, for the first time ever. She didn’t think they would mind, if the gate opened. 

“Hello?” She called. “Nathalie?” 

The lights in the foyer were off. And despite the large windows beside her, dark shadows hung in the corners like cobwebs. 

The house felt empty. Cold, and dark. The manor had always been cold, of course. It was picture perfect, sterile and modern minimal. But today it felt worse. Noticeably worse. 

If this is what it felt like at night when she went home, it was no wonder Adrien hated it here. 

The doors to Gabriel’s office were closed, and she approached, knocking gently. 

“Come in.” Said Nathalie’s voice. 

She was at her desk, but Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. “Good morning,” she greeted.

“G-good morning.” Marinette nodded. “I’m just letting you know I’m here. You usually greet me at the door so...” 

“You’ve been here long enough, I didn’t think such formalities were necessary.” 

“They aren’t! It’s fine, totally fine. Just...unexpected is all. Is Gabriel still ill?” 

“A bit. He may come down, but he may not. I will field all questions.” 

“Okay,” she nodded. She prepared to leave, but asked. “Is Adrien home?” 

“He’s working in his room. He’s very busy.” 

Marinette just nodded, and went to her own office down the hall.

It was a smaller room, used to belong to Emilie. Gabriel was very specific about how things were kept. The desk was Marinette’s, but everything else was Emilie’s. The bureau in the corner, the little settee, the curtains, it was all her design. Emilie had good taste, thankfully, and so the room was fine the way it was. 

Even with the light off, this room didn’t have that oppressive weight in it. 

She could relax, however slightly, and get to work. 

It was hard to concentrate on work when all she wanted to do was storm upstairs and demand answers from Adrien. At this point, she definitely felt like she deserved them. Date or not, she deserved a little closure as to what had happened, and why he had never followed up. 

In all likeliness, it would probably just be, “my phone died, and then I forgot to text you back.” 

But Nino’s comment about Adrien’s extreme consciousness really nagged at her. 

Before she knew it, it was time for her lunch break, and she took her sack lunch with her to Gabriel’s office. 

He still hadn’t come down, but Nathalie was there. 

“Nathalie? I’m taking my lunch now. Do you think I could visit Adrien?” 

The woman stopped her work and screwed up her lips, an expression Marinette had never seen on her before. She seemed to be thinking much too hard. 

“I will go see if he is able to handle company.” 

“Tell him I don’t want to bother him, and we don’t have to talk. I just want company.” 

Nathalie nodded, and stepped out of the room. Marinette followed across the foyer, before Nathalie harshly told her, “wait here.” 

She ascended the stairs to Adrien’s room. 

Love was ours

Until October wandered by

Let the years come and go

I'll still feel the glow

That time cannot fade

When I hear

That lovely Autumn serenade

Marinette never had to wait. Since working in the same house, they had developed a pretty open door policy. He was allowed in her office anytime, and likewise, she was allowed in his room, though she usually knocked first. Young men and all. 

But this was the first time anything like this happened. Was Nathalie just paranoid about her getting sick too? Or her getting Adrien sick?

Was Adrien still ignoring her, and let Nathalie in on it? 

What had she done to warrant this reaction? 

Finally, Nathalie came out of the room. 

“Adrien can see you for a little bit. But he’s busy, so try not to distract him.” Her tone was stern, in a way that made Marinette instinctively curl into herself. A sternness like she was in trouble. 

Seriously, what did she do?!

She climbed the stairs, and approached the door, knocking slightly. “Adrien?” 

“Please come in,” his voice called back. 

When she entered, she noticed the lights were out. He sat in his computer chair, facing her completely, sitting rigidly, and smiling. 

It was the fakest smile she’d ever seen. 

She sighed. “Relax. I’m not mad.” 

He blinked. “You…aren’t?” 

“I mean, I’m a little confused. Why didn’t you show?” 

He frowned. “I’m sorry, I think I’m the one that’s confused. What are you talking about?” 

She scoffed. “Last week? We were going to have dinner? You never showed or called?” 

“Oh. I…forgot.” 

“It was your idea!” 

“I…was sick. And I fell asleep. Yes. What day?” 

“Friday night.” 

His eyes widened. “Oh yes. That is exactly what happened.” 

She sighed as she sank into his couch, and opened her lunch. “I understand. I really do, but next time, could you return my calls? I spent a whole week in silence from you.” 

“Nathalie confiscated my phone.” 

This made her chuckle. “Okay, that’s an ironclad excuse.” 

He smiled, again, so fake. 

“So what did you want to tell me?”

“Tell you? I was under the impression that you wanted to talk to me.” 

“Well yeah, but on Friday. You asked me to dinner and said you wanted to tell me something.” 

He spun around in his chair to look at his computer. He scrolled through a document, and then turned back to her. “I don’t remember, I’m afraid. This past week has been…a bit fuzzy, to tell you the truth.” 

“What were you sick with?” 

His eye twitched. “Uh, cancer.” 

“WHAT?!” 

“Too severe? Strep throat then. Pneumonia. Bronchitis.” 

“You could just say you don’t know instead of giving me a heart attack, you know.” 

“Apologies.” 

“Why are you talking like that?” 

“Talking how so?” 

“Like, really proper.” 

“Is it not how I usually talk?” 

“Not when we’re alone…” 

He screwed up his lips. “Hmm. My bad. Too many period dramas while I was sick, I suppose.” 

She laughed. “Oh my gosh, like when we binged Sherlock together, and we couldn’t stop talking with British accents?!”

He grinned. “Precisely. Just like that.” 

“Man, had I known you were sick, I would have brought you some soup and given you company.” 

“Nathalie wouldn’t have let you.” 

“I know. It just kills me to think that you were alone all week.” 

“It kills you?” He looked horrified. 

“Yeah…I know you get lonely…sorry, I’m prying again.” 

He shook his head. “Just…the phrasing caught me off guard.” 

Marinette noticed from the moment she walked in, he had only once glanced at his computer. She was being a distraction, just like Nathalie had asked her not to. 

“Well, I heard you were busy, so I’ll finish my lunch in my office. But, we’re good right?” 

“What?” 

“Like, you aren’t mad at me for anything? I didn’t do anything wrong?” 

“No, you did nothing wrong. We’re great friends.” 

“Good!” 

Something was wrong. 

Love was ours

Until October wandered by

Let the years come and go

I'll still feel the glow

That time cannot fade

When I hear

That lovely Autumn serenade

She walked to him and kissed his temple, like he always appreciated, and she spared a glance at the computer screen. 

She only got a glimpse of the first line. 

‘Your name is Adrien Agreste.’

--

I can’t guarantee prompt updates for a little bit. I have some logistics to figure out, but I have a few chapters ready, so I figured I’d start posting! All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

I hope to post the last chapter on Halloween!

[writinglionqueen]

My King Tribute Fic | The Boar’s Den

A very considerate follower made me a fantastic fanfic that coincides with my My King universe!!! @tinkerbell-has-chlamydia​ dedicated her time to create this masterpiece of a story and asked me to post it here to share with you all. Please give her some love and read this story. You won’t regret it. All credit goes to her. The only thing I can take credit for is beta reading this masterpiece. 

You considered your life to be very blessed, even by the standards of a Queen. You enjoyed the privileges that belonged to a lady of your status, but suffered very few of the entrapments that often followed it. The food you ate was always fresh and well prepared, but you were never forced to eat what was laid out for you, or forbidden from eating what you wanted out of fear that it would ruin your figure. The clothes you wore were tailored from the highest quality fabrics in the world, for you alone, and yet you always took charge in how you dressed, and by extension, what your day would consist of. You lived in the very castle that young girls dreamt of when they heard tales of brave knights and beautiful princesses, but you were never restricted as to where you were permitted to go. You could roam freely and enjoy your home and all that came with it, especially the training grounds which you happily frequented. 

 Above all, it was your husband that you were most grateful for. It was he that granted you all of these liberties. He gave them to you freely, and without hesitation. He took on your discomforts, your burdens and your displeasures as if they were his own and always made it his personal task to help you in any way possible. You admired his tireless efforts to give you everything you desired, both as a queen and as a wife, and you always made sure he knew you appreciated those efforts. There were times where you were even convinced that you lived the perfect life.

 This was not one of those times.

 You had been standing in a single room, that you could not leave, for hours on end dressed in quite possibly the most frivolous (and hottest) garments known to womankind, all while your hunger grew to almost unbearable proportions. However, what you hungered for was not food. It was the man sitting on the oaken throne before you, draped in furs and skins of wild beasts, with his copper and onyx circlet set firmly above his brow, listening to a tailor from a nearby village drone on about the prices of cloth compared to the price of thread.

 Drew had been on campaign for the past month, leading his men in battle against a rebel, who was calling himself the True King. He did call himself that. Now he would find it difficult to call himself anything with his head no longer belonging to his neck. Drew had also captured the rebel’s two generals. His sons, the traitor’s only living heirs, and he had imprisoned them; fully intending on executing them once the two revealed any and all plans for further rebellions.

 Nevertheless, the King’s long absence did have an effect on the realm’s day to day operations, and although you pride yourself on how you maintained your keep, the villages surrounding your castle needed their King. It had been mere minutes between Drew coming home bloodied and bruised, dragging the traitor’s two gigantic sons by their chains, throwing them in the castle’s dungeon, trading in his armour for regal clothing, and taking his place on his throne to hold court. The only interaction between your husband and yourself was when Drew presented you with the sword of his fallen enemy, and placed a chaste kiss to your lips as you welcomed his return in the courtyard with the other nobles of the castle. But even then, you were in such a... dizzied state for seeing your husband again that you allowed that sword (which looked rusted and dull) to cut your thumb ever so slightly. But above all, even though it was short and mostly for the sake of appearances, that kiss he gave you was all you were able to think about as you stood on the balcony of the great hall with the high ranking ladies of the court gazing at your husband’s profile as he tried desperately not to fall asleep.

 All you could think about was how much Drew must have been holding back when he kissed you in front of all those people. How much he wished he could just rip your clothes off, taking you then and there. You knew that when you embraced him after he dismounted his horse and proclaimed to the people that their King had returned a hero, he was desperately wishing that your hands were scratching down his back as you heralded him in a more excited and primal manner. You knew that when the people around you cheered, he imagined the clapping of their hands to be the pounding of your bed-frame against the stone wall. 

 You knew he was imagining it all, because you were imagining the same exact things. Though there were many, many great privileges to being Queen, being made love to by the King was by far the greatest. You were unsure of other wives, but when Drew let you know that you were to be bedded that night, you felt nothing but pure lust until he fulfilled his promise. Even when he was injured (which was often) he still managed to please you, powering through his pain to give you pleasure… and he always seemed to find his as well. 

 It was odd, though. No matter how much you desired your husband, no matter how much your body screamed for him to be inside you, no matter how much you wanted to make him feel the same way he made you feel, you always reverted back to a shy, tentative young girl when you were in his arms, just like you were on your wedding night. Drew had some other worldly effect on you that prevented you from initiating intimacy. Not fear. You had never felt afraid of him, but there always was this… hesitation. This expectation for him to take control, as if there were no other option. It never really bothered you, however. With the way that Drew took control over you, there never needed to be an alternative.

 As you stood there, suffocating in your ridiculous dress, watching the dust float through the sunbeams penetrating the glass of the windows inside this dry, wooden hall, you nearly hallucinated the scenes of what awaited you that night. You discretely swept your tongue across your bottom lip to only find it as dry as the air around you. The only source of moisture that you could sense in the entire room was pooling itself between your thighs. Every time you shifted your stance in a futile attempt to give your feet more comfort, you were sure that everyone in the hall could hear the sopping noise that it made. Your... wetness had trickled itself almost to your knee at this point, and it was completely unbearable.

 Then, if by some miracle, the tailor stopped droning on long enough for Drew to interject that something or other was to be done about his issue and that he could leave the court knowing that he had been heard. Then, the tailor bowed and left. He left. The demon that had been preventing you from heaven has been vanquished. 

 “One petitioner more. After him, this forum will be continued tomorrow.” Drew’s booming voice echoed across the hall. You swore that you heard everyone give a sigh of relief. As a page left to usher in the final person, Drew turned his head so that his eyes met yours. His devilish smirk met your beaming smile as he slowly nodded to you as if to say, “I know, my Queen. I know how you’ve missed me, and very soon, I’m going to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

 Then, Drew draped his arm over the side of his seat, and grazed his fingers over the engravings of it, in perfect view of you. His hand danced a bit more until it landed on a tiny gemstone, no larger than the bud of a flower. He then slowly swirled his fingers around the nub before shifting his muscles and pressing in on it for just a moment, before circling it again.

 You sucked in a breath and held your stomach where you felt heat bubbling inside you. You bit the inside of your cheek and suppressed a moan. It just wasn’t fair. Queen’s shouldn’t be teased. Not like this. Your face hardened as you tried to stay expressionless. Drew smiled and turned his head forward again, still working his hand. He knew the hold he had on you. To everyone else, it looked like the King was absentmindedly fiddling with the etchings in his throne. But you knew better. You knew much, much better.

 Then there was a bang that grabbed you out of your painfully bliss-filled trance. You turned your head and put your hand over your mouth. Not out of fear. Quite the opposite, actually. It was to keep from laughing. The man who had just burst through the door without waiting to be properly announced was shorter than yourself, and wearing a brightly colored… outfit, that no true Scot would ever don. You found the garment very hard to make sense of, so you didn’t bother to try. He wasn’t forced to wear it either, like a fool would be. By the way he took strides that his little legs shouldn’t have been able to take, he was very proud of his appearance. 

 You looked at Drew, whose mouth was slightly open as he stared at the little man who was barreling toward him. For the first time in hours, the King was sitting up at full attention. The walking curiosity stopped a few feet from the throne, dramatically bent his knee and gestured broadly with his hand.

 “Your Majesty. Before I begin, I beg of you to allow me time to praise your grand victory over the vile pretender-”

 “I am grateful for your praise, friend, and I’m sure that your words would move the ladies of the court to tears if they were to be spoken,” Drew quickly said. There were scattered laughs throughout the crowd. The little man just smiled and nodded. “But I must say that you entered this hall with such... urgency that I can say in full honesty... I would like to know your cause here today.”

 At this point, Drew was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands under his chin. Not quite in a mocking manner, but in a manner of one who was asked an impossible riddle. The little man, however, was elated with the attention shown to him by the King. He stood up tall and proud with his bird-like chest puffed out. 

 “I am Slibhin Mac a’ Ghobhainn, and I am here to petition His Majesty for a company of royal warriors to assist me in retaking my home. My home... that was stolen from me... by my very kin.” Drew glanced at you, asking with his eyes if you and he were just sharing a dream one would have whilst they weathered a fever. You just shrugged your shoulders. Drew turned back to your guest.

 “I must say, your request has been the most... ambitious one that I’ve heard today. But, I have to ask you how I can give you my men to reclaim your home when they have just returned from defending their’s.” Drew raised his eyebrow. The man called Slibhin stood back a bit, comically intimidated by your husband’s small gesture. Nevertheless, he persisted.

 “I must confess, Your Majesty. This endeavor is not as… dramatic as I may have relayed.” He bowed his head in faux humility. “My father is… was... the blacksmith of your keep’s village, and with his passing, I should have inherited his estate and all intended incomes. However, my birthright has been… usurped by my… cursed sister. While I had been away on business these past few weeks, she has been, without my knowledge or consent, conducting transactions with the people of the town and has been calling my enterprise her own. Not only has she taken my means of income, but has destroyed my home and has turned it into a… boar’s den of the most unappealing state.”

 Your ears perked up at the word “sister.” You had always had a great admiration for smithing, and had always fantasized about creating something yourself, though you kept this secret. Not even your husband knew... yet. When the image flashed in your mind that a woman was in charge of a smithy, it brought a bright smile to your face that you didn’t even attempt to hide. Drew, however, let out a breath.

 “So, you are asking for the arrest of your sister?” You immediately frowned at that. You knew that Drew was compelled by his office to uphold the laws of the land, but… you both knew...  just by looking, that the man before you had no right (other than virtue of his sex) running a smithy. Slibhin showed his smile again. The smile that had amused you at first now was the cause for your most sincere disdain.

 “No, Your Majesty, that is not what I am asking for. You see, if my sister were to be arrested, then I would be without the means to make my fortune.” His smile deepened. Drew rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was clear that as much as the funny dressed man was enjoying his showmanship, Drew was becoming agitated by it.

 “My late father was very keen on having his skills transferred through his children. When I didn’t immediately become a prodigy under his impossible training regime, he turned to my sister who, in an overwhelming need to be praised by him, showed something resembling skill in the field. As much as it pains me to say this, I need her to perform her duties. I  just need them done under my jurisdiction.”

 “Well, if your father raised your sister to take over his business, what right have I to disrespect a dead man’s wishes?'' the King asked, crossing his arms over his chest. You smirked in a slight satisfaction over that. Even though you knew this had nothing to do with you, it somehow felt like Drew was defending you. Though you couldn’t explain it, you considered Slibhin, the petitioner, as an invader. As a threat. Not a physical threat, not at all. You were certain that even in your present state you could make him bleed. Heavily. It was his mind that you felt put off by. He wasn’t clever, not by any means, but his way of thinking (if you could call it thinking) somehow disturbed you. He just felt so… entitled. Though he hadn’t done anything outrageous, there was something about him you just couldn’t trust. You had hoped that Drew’s questioning would have somehow disheartened the small man, but he just kept…  on…  smiling.

 “Your Majesty, like yourself, I am fortunate enough to have been wed this year...” He smiled and nodded to the space next to your husband. You gasped loudly. There stood your King’s cupbearer. A little girl with soft skin and wide eyes, no older than ten. It was a subtle nod, one that the vast majority court hadn’t seemed to notice, thank the Gods. But you had known what you saw, but you refused to believe it. Yes, she was the closest person to Drew and she was very well dressed, but surely no one could have possibly thought that she was their Queen, or that Drew would ever dare wed or… lay with a... child. Who looked at a child so young and innocent and thought: “wife”? Tears welled in your eyes. Drew leaned forward and inhaled to repute the gesture, obviously aware of what was implied, but Slibhin persisted.

 “But I haven’t married just any woman. I have married the daughter of a Laird.” He said the last word as if he were sampling a rare vintage. “Through this union, I have acquired a status that supersedes that of any blacksmith, alive or dead. By both my birth and my diplomacy, I have the right to that smithy. Now all I need is... well, physical support to take what is mine.”

 You could feel the veins in your forehead bulging as your eyes stung. You hated this man. Everything he said. Everything he thought. Everything about him filled you with a rage. He had insulted you and your husband. He believed his Queen was a child and his King was a senseless monster. More than that, he was stealing a woman’s right to work. Her livelihood. Just because he could. There was no way he could do this. 

 “Very well.” Your head snapped to your husband. Drew rubbed his temples under his circlet. “You’ll have some men to help you restore peace to your home, but that’s all. You cannot-”

 “WAIT!”

 Time stopped. Silence covered the room like a woolen blanket. Even the little gnats that were fluttering about seemed to be suspended in the thick, heated air. Every living thing in the world had turned into a statue, all with their heads turned to you, including Drew’s. Your face felt hot. Hotter than before, if that were even possible. You noticed that your hands were gripping the railing before you. So tightly, in fact, that your knuckles were the color of milk. You looked down at Slibhin. His smile was still plastered on his face, but his eyes were small and full of malice. You took some comfort in that you broke, if just for a moment, that boy’s jovial mask. It gave you the courage to speak.

 “If I may speak on this-”

 “Your King has already made his decree, my sweet girl.” said Slibhin quickly, hoping to put you down as swiftly and as kindly as possible. “I don’t believe he-”

 Drew quickly stood to his feet, causing the floor to quake in the process. 

 “Your Queen has chosen to honor you with her words. I suggest you listen. Kneel, boy.” As if his legs were cut at the knees, Slibhin fell back down with his head bowed once more. You could see that the little man was sweating… heavily, and not because of the blistering heat. Drew looked back at you, his eyes filled with admiration and encouragement. You felt some kind of power in the bottom of your feet, anchoring you to your castle. Your home. Your seat of power. Air gracefully filled your lungs and you spoke.

 “Perhaps it is just my female sensibility, or the fragile constitution that poisons my sex,” you said with an overly-sweet tone, so much so, that the ladies of the court tried to suppress their giggles, leaving the men confused, “but it seems to me that sending military force to settle such a small domestic dispute, even without violence, is very... uncivilized.” 

 You looked at Drew for support. He nodded slightly. “Well said, my Queen. What do you suggest instead?” You hesitated, but only for a moment. 

 “Send an ambassador. Someone to settle the matter diplomatically. I believe it would spare exhausted men more work, and inspire less resistance from the blacksmith.”

 The court murmured in support of your idea, but you couldn’t help but feel disheartened. You didn’t want to send an envoy to solve the matter. You didn’t think there was a matter to be solved. Let the damn girl smith in peace. However, you knew that couldn’t be. The small, hateful man that knelt before you had a right to his father’s business... and his sister’s life if she were not yet married. You just couldn’t bear seeing a young woman dragged out by soldiers to be humbled before her brother; a brother that clearly bore her no love.

 “It shall be done, my Queen. I can think of no better alternative.” Drew proclaimed, just happy that the matter was finally done with. “The crown will send the Laird of Commerce to settle-”

 “I will go,” you said. “Today.”

 Drew’s eyes widened. He turned to you and raised his brow. You did your best to not look directly at him, but instead kept your chin raised and your eyes on the frivolously dressed man. You knew what you had done. The place of the Queen was inside her castle, not in politics. Drew had allowed you some leniency just then, by giving you leave to speak, but that was just because he was so utterly exhausted. The repercussions that may fall on Drew for your actions were not lost on you. He could be seen as weak or incompetent. Your outburst could be seen as him allowing a woman, even if it was his wife, control him. You knew all of this.

 But you couldn’t let this happen. Even though you had never met this smith before, you felt a kind of womanly bond with her. You didn’t have a plan for when you met her, or how you could save her, but you also had no plan to speak out a few moments ago. Slibhin looked back and forth between the two of you, hoping that the King would somehow intervene. Though you had never declared your intention to have the girl keep her forge, he could sense your motives... and he didn’t like them. You could tell that he was just waiting for Drew to silence or perhaps admonish you in front of the court… all with that damned smile on his face.

 “I suppose you will be in need of an escort…” Your head snapped to your husband. He had a smile of his own. Sincere and cocky. “My Queen. I’d like to offer you my services.”

 Your heart fluttered and you nodded. A collective giggle escaped from the crowd. Him doing this not only showed that he approved of your plan, but if anyone dared to oppose you, they would have to go through him first. On top of all that, his attitude was a playful one, showing he wasn’t bothered by your actions at all. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

 “The court is dismissed. Those in attendance will retire and I will go to fulfill my duties.” Drew’s voice boomed through the hall as the nobles and commoners alike scrambled toward the exit. The room emptied uncommonly fast either out of fear of their King, or because they wanted the ordeal to just be over already. It was most likely the latter. In a moment the only living souls left behind were yourself and Drew. Even the sniveling Slibhin was taken out and told to make his smithy ready for the royals’ arrival. 

 You walked down to the lower level to meet with Drew. The smile on his face hadn’t lessened, but it did change somehow. As soon as you were within reach your husband grabbed you and held you close. It wasn’t in a romantic way; it was in a very lustful way. Your face was forced into his chest. One hand gripped your hair while the other was pressed into your backside. Drew squeezed his hand and forced you to roll into his thigh. You tried to gasp, but found breathing impossible. The King lowered his mouth to your ear.

 “I know what you’re trying to do, little one,” he growled. “You’re trying to torture me. Trying to make me wait. Get back at me for teasing you. But let me tell you something, my Queen.” He let go of your hair and tilted your chin to look up at him. Your eyes were glazed over and your mouth hung open at the sheer sensation you were experiencing. Drew continued, “I may be beaten down, but I still have the strength to take you. I still have the power to ravage you. I still have the endurance to turn you into a whimpering mess. The only thing I don’t have is patience to visit that little idiot’s house and watch you comfort some crying welp.” 

 Drew lifted you and placed you roughly on his throne. He leaned over you and put his arms on either side of your head, caging you. Your chest heaved as your breathing became erratic. Your husband captured your gasping mouth in a fiery kiss and you moaned unabashedly. After a few moments of bliss, you felt a rough, dirty hand slide up the side of your leg. It reminded you that just a few minutes ago, you could feel yourself dripping as you dreamed of this exact scene. But something felt wrong. Your head was swimming and your thoughts were scattered, but you knew that you had forgotten something. Something important. 

 “Welcome me home, my Queen. Not like that little farce this morning. Give me a real welcome.” Drew growled and bit your neck, making you hold in a scream of pleasure... and a small amount of pain… just the right amount. “Come on my love. I want to hear you.” By now his fingers were pushing into your core, threatening to enter you. “Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” He was whispering now. In the midst of his beast-like state, he still found softness to give to you. 

 You felt guilty for what you were about to say. You loved your husband more than anything in this world and you wanted to give him what he wanted. What he craved, but…

 “No, Drew. I have to go to that man’s house. I have to see that smithing girl. Today. I really truly have to...  Please, let me go.”

 Your husband froze. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. You swallowed and started to get up from the throne. Only then did Drew back off from you and in doing so, you felt his fingers leave your core. It was devastating. Drew stood to his full height and stared at you. His face was confusion incarnate. You got to your feet only to stumble forward and be caught by your King. Your legs were still shaking from what he had just done.

 “Thank you.” You were barely able to speak let alone look at him.

 “Are you serious? You actually want to go?” His voice didn’t have a hint of malice. But it seemed... small. Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded. The guilt you felt was immeasurable.

 “I’m sorry. I just… I-I… yes. Yes I want to go… and I need to go now. If-If we, um… share each other now, I w-wont be able t-to think of anything else.” You shook, hugging your husband’s chest. “I’m so sorry. I want to give myself to you. I want everything to be perfect when we…” You couldn’t finish your thought. You looked up at Drew’s face, expecting him to be angry, sad, frustrated, anything like that. But the corner of his mouth was turned upwards and his eyes were sparkling. You went to speak before he rolled his eyes and let out a breath of a laugh.

 “On we go then…” The King turned and lumbered away from you, shaking his head dramatically. “The things a man must do to bed a woman.” He spoke over his shoulder. “You’d think a King would at least have an easier time.” He stopped and turned to you. “Well? Are you coming?” 

 A broad smile covered your face as you ran to catch up with your teasing husband.

 The first word that came to mind when you walked through your keep’s village was “quaint.” Compared to the village surrounding your father’s keep, this was a bustling metropolis, but that wasn’t saying much. Every building looked the same, some just slightly bigger than others. The people also looked the same… some were just slightly bigger than others. Everything was a different shade of greyish brown. With a few splashes of specific colors to indicate different shops. You could tell that these people were poor, but none seemed like they were “in-need.” They had dirt on their faces, but they also seemed to have food in their stomachs. The noises that you heard were dull but plentiful. Men grumbling about prices, old women sharing rumors with one another, big wooden wheels of food carts crawling along on the soft peat roads.

 Luckily, your feet and the hem of your dress were safe from the filth. You rode on your horse a few meters behind your escort, your husband. Though he no longer wore his royal circlet, it was obvious to the village folk around you that he was their King. Everyone got out of his path. From the littlest children play-fighting with sticks to the largest men pulling wagons along because they couldn’t afford a mule, all stopped what they were doing and stared at Drew… from a safe distance, of course. You couldn’t help but feel prideful. You saw how the townswomen stared at your husband. How they lusted after him. They also must resent you for keeping him from them, as if they ever had a chance. You suppressed a giggle. All women wanted him, but he was yours by right. And you were going to lay claim to what was rightfully yours… very soon.

 “Well, would you look at that,” you could hear Drew proclaim. You craned your neck as the King slowed up to leisurely ride beside you. This time, you couldn’t contain the laughter that burst out of you at the sight of the little Slibhin sitting in the dirt, dizzy with pain as blood steadily dripped from his nose. It was a lovely sight. Drew looked at you and raised an eyebrow. Your laughter subsided a bit as a hint of shame plucked at you. That was very unladylike. Even Drew, who resented the little man almost as much as you did was able to maintain his composure. Still… it was funny. You didn’t think much of it.

 Drew dismounted and helped you off your mare. You looked at your surroundings. It consisted of hundreds of grey eyes fixed upon you. Some were trying to figure out who you were. Others were judging you for your outburst. Others still were looking on and wondering how a woman so small could lay beneath a man so large and not be flattened. You began to feel self-conscious and fiddled with your sleeve. You took in a breath to address the crowd before you felt the large torso of your King block out the sun as he stepped between you and the masses.

 “Royal business. On with your day.” Drew grunted. Like ants after you pick up the slab they were hiding under, the people disbursed. You reached out and squeezed his hand in thanks before you turned to the building behind you. 

 Under a shoddy overhang, there stood a gigantic forge with multiple anvils, crafting tables, whetstones, and pieces of different metals and ores grouped together by size and type. Your first thought was that no one man could work this forge alone, let alone one girl. On the wall hung more smithing tools than you knew existed. Each one grimy and well-used. Even the wooden handles of the hammers seemed to be rotting, but you couldn’t help but admire how well organized everything was. As Queen, you were in charge of keeping the largest estate in the country in the best shape it can be, and even you could never be this organized.

 You swallowed hard and looked at your husband. By now he had taken the reins of your horses and led them to a water trough. You watched as he sat on a nearby overturned barrel and looked at you. You gave him a weak smile, pleading for some gesture of encouragement. Drew smirked and replied by spreading his legs. Under his kilt, you saw his already glistening cock jutting straight out of a roost of thick, black curls. Slightly less noticeable were the black and purple bruises that seemed like knolls in the tree trunks that were his thighs. They had to be extremely painful, but he didn’t seem to care.  Drew gave you a look. “Don’t take too long,” it said.

 You turned and knocked on the wooden door in front of you. Slibhin gave a groan of pain and mumbled something incoherent. You just rolled your eyes. The big door creaked open a sliver and you saw two pale blue eyes meekly peer out. You blinked a few times in surprise before crouching to be level with them.

 “Umm… may I come in? I believe you’ve been expecting me.”

 The two beautiful eyes nodded before retreating behind the door to heave it open with both hands. This was not how you expected the visit to start, but now you were more curious than ever. You hiked up your dress, stepped over the threshold and entered the house.

This was a home. You could tell that these people were richer than most, but they put nothing they owned to waste. The chairs were cushioned, but with makeshift pillows that seemed to be sewn from very fine, but very torn silks. Suspended from the ceiling beams were little figurines of colored glass that others would put in a cabinet and never dare breathe on for fear of shattering it. They gave the house a comforting glow when the light hit them the right way. In the wooden support beams and rafters were etched runes that you didn’t understand, but liked to look at. They had little statues and figures carved from wood that must have been imported from somewhere far away, but they weren’t for decoration. They either had overcoats draped over them or cooking utensils in their hands. Expensive looking urns and pitchers had been stuffed with soil and sprouted mixed clumps of different wildflowers, giving the house a sweet, clean air. Everything had a purpose, and even fluffy, expensive furs that even the highest of  nobles would keep locked away safe, were used as carpets and doormats. 

 You couldn’t quite explain it, but you felt… safe here. It was like a child’s nursery in a way. While you admired the house you were in, the door closed, and your ear twitched at dainty little ghosts of footsteps. You turned.

 Standing there was a woman that was somehow even smaller than yourself. Her half-braided hair was so light that it appeared silver in the few beams of sunlight that filtered through the shuttered windows. Somehow, her skin was even more fair, with a sweet but extremely shy look on her face. If you were a child, you would have believed her to be a fae. She wore an extremely well made and expensive looking dress... that appeared to have the sleeves, collar, hem, (and practically all areas that caused discomfort in a woman) torn or cut and resewn. It didn’t restrict her in any way. You would be lying if you said you didn’t envy her. You silently cursed yourself for not changing out of your ridiculous gown before making the journey into the village.

 It was only then that you remembered that you had come here to speak with a smith. You quickly glanced at the girl’s arms, noting them to be as weak and as elegant as a willow’s branch. Her fingers were small and lithe, like strands from a spider’s web. Her back and neck … unbent as if it were an icicle, not at all like the hunched over men you had seen working your keep’s smithy. 

 “My Majesty. I am having a great honor, now, to be receiving your person at my little homestead.” 

 You were taken aback by her broken speech, but her voice was absolutely beautiful... like the ringing of a bell. She got on her hands and her knees before you, a bit excessive, but you understood her intent. You began to question if you should reciprocate her absurd amount of formality.

 “Arise, my good hostess. A woman should never have to kneel in her own home.” You gave her a warm smile, and after a pause she rose to her feet but kept her head down.

 “Please have forgiveness for me, Highness. I am stupid to your traditions of the South.” 

 “You’ve done nothing wrong, sweet girl,” you were quick to reply. “I’ve come here as a friend. Please, don’t feel that you’ve insulted me.” The silver girl nodded understandingly, but her shoulders were still tense. You had never met this woman before in your life, but you desperately wanted to reach out and embrace her. To stroke her hair and whisper comforting words to her, like you would a frightened child during a storm.

 “I believe you know why I’ve come here,” you gently pressed. The woman nodded.

 “Yes, to discuss the business of this family. I am begging you, now, to possess a chair of mine.” You smiled at that. The way she spoke was adorable to you. You grabbed a seat and almost gasped as you sank into the cushion. It was just so comfortable. The girl moved to the chair opposite you as if she were gliding on a frozen pond, and nervously sat. A long unnerving silence blanketed the room until you were finally able to find your words. You deeply wanted to just get it all over with.

 “I would just like to tell you that I do wish I could support your claim to your father’s forge. In fact, I- I admire you. Ladies are often not as… bold as you are about your talent.” You spoke about her “boldness” with great hesitation. You have never seen a more meek person in your life, but she must have some bravery in her. If you had learned anything from being the wife of the King, it was that people are not often as they appear.

 The young woman tilted her head and furrowed her brow in confusion. You were afraid that she didn’t understand you and were prepared to repeat yourself in simpler terms, when you noticed her eyes widening. She flung her hand over her mouth to hide a gigantic smile as her shoulders bounced in an attempt to suppress giggles. While it was comforting to see your hostess joyful, you were the tiniest bit offended that her newfound laughter was directed at you. 

 “I am sorry. I am sorry, Queen. Do you… Do you believe that I am the smith?” Her eyes were playful and innocent. A wave of embarrassment flooded over you as all the color was drained from your face. Of course she wasn’t a smith. Any idiot could see that. Just lifting a hammer would exhaust her. The girl gestured to herself. “I am the wife.”

 That sentence caught you by surprise and you looked up at her. Then you remembered that Slibhin had bragged about marrying the daughter of a Laird. She did carry herself like a noble, but… the way she spoke showed that she was certainly not a native of Scotland.

 “Of course. Forgive me, but your accent…” you tentatively asked. The girl nodded.

 “My mother was Norse. She raised me in the old language, being very prideful of her people and of her land.” Your eyes followed her right hand as it played with her left wrist. It was adorned with a pale silver bracelet. Obviously, it had a connection to her mother. “Yrsa,” you heard her whisper to herself, sadly. She took a moment before seemingly returning to the present. The girl continued. “She was for my Scottish father, a reward. A chained bride from conquest. His only desire was to breed savage boys with cold blood. And she did give to him two sons who were strong and brave and warlike... however  he was plainly not content with my birth.” She kept looking at the bracelet, speaking as if you weren’t there. “It was his demand for her to swaddle me by the sea and have the waves take me… he sent my brothers along to witness my death, and to force my mother if she were unable to do it… but she did not do it… and my brothers did not force her. She hid me and when I was able, I played the role of a servant-girl. My brothers aided my farce.” She gave a weak smile. “I will now have been dead by his own hand if he had known of my living. By the time he was made aware of me, I was too old to kill quietly and I proved useful for marriages... in exchange for weapons and armour.” 

 She looked directly at you. Both pride and pain shined in her eyes.

 “I am Sigrdrífa, my Queen. The fruit of a mother’s defiance and two boys’ mercy.”

 At first, you didn’t know what to say. It was good that you finally knew her name, but you were at a loss for words. You only wanted to hear more of her story. Who was her mother? Was she still alive? Did she know that her husband was lying three feet from the door, knocked silly?

 “Sigrdrífa... are you-”

 Just then, outside, you heard a loud thump followed by a comical wail of pain. Slibhin must have been struck by something.

 “This is the smith, my Grace.” Sigrdrífa muttered, almost amusedly. You were suddenly filled with an excited nervousness. This is why you were here after all. To talk with the smith. If she was anything like this little Sigrdrífa, this would be more interesting than you imagined it to be this morning, and you were imagining quite a bit. At least you would have an easier time understanding her.

 The door was busted open with a kick.

 “Oi, te’ foockin’ cunt’s still bleedin’ by te’ nose! Ah dun’t even use me good han’! Ah shoulda done tha’ years ‘go! ”

 She was massive. Her body nearly filled the door frame, blocking out all the light. Her broad shoulders and arms that were left exposed by her leather jerkin were wonderful advertisements for her trade. Her head was shaved, and you couldn’t tell if the brown that sat on her head was stubble, or layers of ash and dirt that seemed ingrained in other parts of her skin. You suspected it was both. She had no indication of a womanly figure. Her clothes were clearly meant for a grown man, and they fit her perfectly. In one fist, she held the necks of several ducks.

 She opened her mouth to speak again and froze. Her eyes were the color of newly unearthed ore with clumps of dirt still clinging to it, begging it to return to the ground. Rough and unrefined, but strong. You felt that her gaze alone was strong enough to knock you down, and it was fixed on you. 

 You smiled and stood, intending to walk towards her, curious, and only the slightest bit intimidated. That all changed when her once toothy smile was swallowed by her tightening lips. Her nose crinkled and you saw her jaw tighten. You swore you could hear her teeth grinding. She took her tree-trunk of a leg and kicked the door closed. You stopped before you could even take one step. 

 You suddenly felt yourself suffocating. Not like you were in the morning, with boredom and stillness, but you couldn’t find your air out of fear for the giant before you. You felt like a caged animal, not a dangerous animal that could fight back, you were something small like a hare or a field mouse. There was just no way you could do anything physical to her. The smith tilted her chin up to as if to speak over  you. The veins in her neck were bulging, but she still stared at you.

 “Te’ son ofa whore wun’t bluffin’. ‘E got te’ bleedin’ Queen… Ya let ‘er in?” Her voice was surprisingly soft. There wasn’t much anger in it, more like she had been slapped in the face… by someone who could actually reach. You looked back at the meek little girl you had just met. She stood up straight with her eyes locked on the smith, not showing one bit of fear. If anything, she seemed annoyed.

 “She is here to be settling your business.” Sigrdrífa spoke slowly, as if explaining to a child. Patronizing. The big woman sneered and stared you down.

 “She dun’t look li’e she’s ready to settle anythin’ wit me.” Your eyes moved to her free hand, where she used her thumb to crack each of her knuckles. Loudly. You gasped when you felt Sigrdrífa’s tiny hand grab your arm. She spoke to you.

 “I give you apologies, my Queen. She speaks harshly for she fears losing her-”

 “Ah’m naw ‘fraid. Notin’ ta be ‘fraid of. Et’s naw gonnae ‘appen.” The large woman continued to stare at you and raised her eyebrows, as if daring you to challenge what she had just stated. You heard forceful, purposeful footsteps come from behind you. You watched as your tiny protector marched up and met toe-to-toe with the mountain at the door.

 “You are behaving as a boar does.”

 “Ye’ eva jump inta a boar’s den? Tear ye’ foockin’ guts out, they will. Rightf’lly so.”

 “You will lose your neck for speaking so.”

 “They’re welcome te’ try ‘n take et.” She still looked directly at you, never breaking eye contact. A ghost of a smile played with the corners of her mouth. She was cocky. She knew that she could do whatever she damn well pleased to you. This was her den, and you had just stumbled blindly into it.

 “Yer naw takin’ me forge. Et’s mine.” The smith just would not stop staring at you.  Sigrdrífa pushed against the smith’s chest. Her porcelain skin seemingly red with anger. 

 “She has been sent here to keep the peace.”

 “She’s been sent ‘ere ‘cos they don’ t’ink ah’d lay a hand on te’ Queen... Bu’ ah can, an’ ah will.” You felt faint. Your head swam in a freezing kind of heat. You wanted Drew here. You wanted him to barge through that door and rescue you. But you knew he wouldn’t. He only escorted you to keep up appearances as King. He let you walk into this house alone. He must have seen the gigantic girl walk in and kick the door shut behind her. He trusted you to settle things here. He wasn’t coming. If you screamed his name, the smith would still get to you first. It was up to you to save yourself, and you were too terrified of the scene before you to conjure anything that could remotely resemble a rational thought. 

 The smith saw this, and was loving every second of your horror and fear. She opened her mouth to say something else when the woman in front of her began to sob. For the first time since she saw you, the giant took her eyes off of you and looked down at Sigrdrífa, her face now immense with concern. She dropped the ducks in her hand and shot her arms up to hold the trembling woman. Sigrdrífa swatted her hands away and punched at her vest.

 “You are not made of metal! You think that you are, but you are not!” The smith went to hold her again, but again she beat away her hands and continued to wail on the giant’s chest. “You will fight the whole of the King’s army? Yes? You will fight every soldier of this Scotland? You will kill every soldier of this Scotland? You will fight the King? You will kill the King?” The smith took in a breath to respond, but was cut off. “You will be KILLED! You will be dead, and I will wish to be dead!” 

 Sigrdrífa’s strength seemed to fall away instantly. Her hands stopped their pounding and fell to her side. She fell forward, directly into the chest of the monster, who immediately wrapped her arms around her, giving her the support that her wobbling legs failed to provide. Sigrdrífa’s shoulders heaved as she wept, and the giant just... held her. You couldn’t believe the scene that was unfolding before you. You didn’t know what to think. Sigrdrífa spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. You strained to hear. 

 “You are selfish. You are selfish to try and fight the world. When you are dead, I will have lost all of me. When you are dead, there will be nothing to stop him-”

 “No.” The smith spoke with a stern and clear voice. “‘E won’t touch ye again. Even if ah lose ev’rythin’ else, ‘e will never touch ye again. Ah promise, little one.” 

 Little one.

 Your heart skipped a beat.

 You immediately looked up at the big woman. Her eyes were fixed firmly on Sigrdrífa in a state that you instantly recognized. Her eyes were focused, but so soft. Her mouth ever so slightly curled in a contemplative smile, despite the dire circumstances. Her head was tilted to the side. Her breath was slow and even. She looked at Sigrdrífa the same way Drew often looked at you. Just after you caught him staring, and just before he averted his eyes, pretending he didn’t even see you. It was a look of utter adoration. Pure love. 

 Your eyes darted down to Sigrdrífa. Her posture was different than it was a few moments ago. Though she was still distraught, she sought refuge in the person she had just been fighting, as if she had nowhere else to go. She nuzzled her head into the smith’s chest, as if she was trying to disappear into it. 

 Everything clicked into place. Your heart sank. Sigrdrífa was married to Slibhin, the smith’s brother. A brother that she clearly had no affection for... and a man that clearly had no respect for his wife or his sister. They had found refuge in one another. The smith was unapologetic about her brutish nature in front of the dainty girl, and she in turn felt safe to scold this monstrosity of a human without any fear or hesitation. You quickly looked around the room again to recognize the oddity of it all. The unorthodox nature of it. They had taken useless, idle things that Slibhin had most likely purchased using the money that his sister made, and had used them to serve their own comfort, something that Sigrdrífa desperately needed. These two had made a home together. 

 And you were about to take it all away. You couldn’t do that to them. Even if one of them had just threatened your life. You understood why she did so. Drew would have done the very same thing if someone had threatened to hurt you. Actually, he wouldn’t even utter a word of a threat. He would just kill them then and there. You gasped and held your heart. If Drew knew that this girl had threatened you, she would be killed. You had to do something.

 “I support your claim to your forge.” You felt your throat resonate with sound even though you didn’t even feel your lips move. You didn’t feel yourself rise to your feet and take several steps toward the pair, but that’s exactly what you did. Though the smith’s attention was still on Sigrdrífa, you saw her eyes rise up to meet yours. They were red and threatening tears. Somehow, this gave you confidence.  You had to take advantage of it.

 “Also... no one sent me here. I demanded to come here and settle this matter myself.” The smith stood to her full height once again, but still held the girl. Sigrdrífa turned around in her embrace, wiping her eyes in shame of her outburst. Both of them, waiting for what you were going to say. For the first time since entering the house, you felt like the Queen.

 “I may be willing to forgive you for your childish threats if you sit down and let me speak.” Your back straightened and you lifted your chin. In a way, you were trying to emulate Drew when he spoke to his undisciplined recruits. Sigrdrífa gently pushed the smith’s arms away from her, as if they weighed nothing, bent over and gathered the ducks off of the floor, holding them in her arms like a newborn. She took small, slow steps towards you.

 “My Queen, may I ask you to pardon me? I must be preparing these for supper.” Her voice quaked. She was completely embarrassed. You felt pity for her. She was most likely the most gentle woman you have ever met, and she was thrown into the middle of all... this.

 You nodded and gave a ghost of a smile. She bowed her head and retreated to the fireplace. She sat in a rocking chair and began plucking the feathers from the ducks. The chair and fireplace were extremely close to the table. She was well within earshot and could easily talk business with you, but you understood that she just wanted to disappear. You at least could give her that courtesy. 

 You looked back at the smith at the door. She was walking toward you, but stopped in her tracks.

 “Ah was just gonnae sit down. Ah wun’t gonnae do nothin’ else.” She put her hand up, as if swearing an oath. You had to suppress a smile, keeping your regal composition. Even though you were touched at the big woman’s devotion to the smaller one, and even though you desperately wanted them to live happily with one another, free from the little monster that plagued them both, you still were the Queen, and you had been not only insulted, but threatened by your subject. It was your turn to be intimidating, even if your target was just a stubborn, rough, protective giant. Just like Drew.

 “Sit down.” She almost lunged to the seat opposite you. The ground shook with her every step. Even when she was seated, she towered over you. Frankly, you still had trouble believing that she was really that big. You took your own seat. She folded her hands together and hunched forward, clearly trying to show that she was listening. However, in doing so, she took up most of the table. To answer this, you leaned forward yourself and watched in glee as she retreated into the back of her chair. This time, you did smile. Proudly.

 “Tell me why you should keep your forge.” 

 “Ye said ye s’pport me claim.” The big woman was tensing up again. She knew she was being toyed with, but she could do nothing about it. 

 “I do, but I only support your claim because I don’t want to support your brother’s.”

 The smith smiled at that. A broad, toothy smile like the one she wore when she first entered the house. Her teeth were square, and she had a small gap between the front most two. Just like Drew. She was delighted that someone hated her brother. She looked into your eyes, hoping that you would return her smile, and lighten the mood somewhat. You didn’t return anything. Defeated, the smith cleared her throat and spoke.

 “Ah’m te’ furst born. Ah’m from me da’s furst wife. ‘E said I’d ‘ave te’ forge when ‘e died… ‘E died. ”

 “When did your father die?” You tried to formulate some sort of timeline. You didn’t know what for. You knew you shouldn’t get involved too much in their family affairs, but curiosity got the better of you.  The large woman hitched her thumb back at Sigrdrífa..

 “Same day Slibhin brought ‘er ‘ere. Died in ‘is sleep,” she huffed and rolled her eyes, clearly insinuating that that was not, in fact, the way her father truly died. But surely there was no way to prove any foul play. When a dying old man finally passes, nobody really questions why, or how. You got your thoughts together. So Slibhin brought back his wife and then his father ‘died in his sleep,’ meaning that she never truly had power over the forge. It had just passed from her father to her brother. But something wasn’t lining up.

 “Then… when did you... take control of the smithy? I mean, why is your brother begging for help now?

 “Te, King an’ soldiers wen’ off te’ war. Nob’dy te’ enforce it.” She looked at you like you were stupid. You weren’t sure if she realized what her facial expression was offensive or not, but you didn’t like it. Your cheeks grew hot at that insult, but you didn’t pursue it and further.

 “So you’ve been in the head of the house for about… one month?”

 She nodded her head. You opened your mouth to ask another question about the previous whereabouts of her now unconscious brother, but the smith cut you off, already knowing.

 “E’s been livin’ in a whorehouse fer te’ past month. Anythin’ else? Can ah keep goin’?” Her patience was wearing thin, and even though she didn’t intend to scare you, you felt fear creep back up into your chest. But before you were able to even inhale to steady yourself, you heard the faintest sound of someone clearing their throat. You looked back up at the giant woman, who looked confused in turn. You saw her turn in her chair to meet Sigrdrífa’s gaze. 

 The smaller woman didn’t say a word, just narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips, scrunched her nose and gave the smith a curt nod. The universal way a wife signaled to her husband that he was being inappropriate. The smith’s head lowered and she let out a big sigh, causing her shoulders to loosen and drop. Her hand went to rub the back of her neck in embarrassment as she slowly turned back to you, not daring to make eye contact.

 “Ah’m sorry, my Queen,” was all she said. You immediately stopped yourself from forgiving her… and calling her ‘Drew.’ In that moment, you saw your husband in that smithing girl. Utterly and completely. That was the way Drew always apologized to you. From the body language to the facial expression down to the cadence of her words; it was an exact match.

 “Continue,” was all you said. The smith nodded and did just that.

 “Ah’m te’ one tha’ smiths. Ah’m te’ one tha’ earns te’ gold. Me brothe’ dunt kno’ an’thin’ ‘bout makin’ deals wit’ nob’dy. ‘E’s a cunt. Nob’dy want’s te’ work wit’ ‘em. Townsfolk don’ li’e me much, buh… ah’m sure tha’ ah’ve dun be’er than ‘im.. makin’ deals, ah mean...”

 You genuinely nodded along with each point that the smith made… well, the ones you were able to understand. With every breath she took, you wanted more and more to give her the rights to her forge, and it pained you knowing that you couldn’t do so. Even though you didn’t like the girl, you knew that she cared about what was hers, and she was willing to fight for it. Just like Drew.

 “-Wit’out ‘im, ah’ve made more gold ‘n ah’ve eve-”

 “What’s your name?”

 That caused the smith to freeze, mid sentence. She looked at you as if you’ve just grown three heads. You didn’t think what you had asked was difficult… Perhaps she didn’t understand the question? The woman opposite you rubbed her knuckles across the palm of her other hand and bit her cheek.

 “Brynhildr... Ye’ Grace.” 

 “Brynhildr…” you repeated. The guttural pronunciation forced the name to get caught in your throat, causing you to cough a bit. You composed yourself and smiled politely. “That’s an interesting name.”

 “Et’s a’ ugly name,” she corrected you, looking almost apologetic. “If et’s easier, ye’ can call me ‘Breun.’ Most evr’yone else does.”

 Breun, you knew that word. It was Gaelic for something. You took it upon yourself to learn the language, but your teacher became very… excited in hearing you speak the ancient tongue and often cut lessons short to… reward you for being so studious. You had heard the word before. You just couldn’t remember what it was.

 The smith read your mind. “Et means ‘filthy… stinkin’... beastly...  t’ings li’e tha’...” she rolled her eyes and smiled sadly as she told you. Her voice was much softer than when she first walked in, as if she were trying not to upset you. Her eyes were somehow less harsh-looking than before, but just as strong. You felt like they could hold you up and support you, reliably, just by virtue of them looking at you. You stammered for something to say. Something that would give her comfort. 

 “Why- why would they call you that?” Stupid question. Anyone could see that breun was a perfect description of her, and she knew that perfectly well. She gave you a small smile and turned her hands over on the table, palms up, presenting herself as evidence. You quickly shook your head, trying to spare her feelings. “I will not call you that. That’s cruel.” She shook her head.

 “Et’s true. Well... et wa’ true a month ‘go. Now ah git scrubbed bloody e’ry foockin’ sundown.” The smith tilted her head back when saying that, clearly not talking to you.

 “It would not be necessary if  you did not insist on ending every day by wearing a coat of ash,” a soft voice chimed in. You leaned to the side to look at Sigrdrífa, who had not taken her eyes off of her work, but was sporting a shining smile and a deep blush on her cheeks. You chuckled as you imagined the scene of this colossus sitting in a tub too small for her, with a sour expression on her face as the tiny, dainty, soft spoken girl scrubbed her back with a horse brush and reprimanded her for being too dirty… while blacksmithing.

 “Tha’s naw all et means.” Your attention returned to the smith’s face. “Breun also means bold, loud, an’ unladylike.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Dun’t soun’ too ‘orrible te me.” Her eyes sparkled with pride. “Ah won’ be ‘ffended ef ye call me ‘Breun’, Ye’ Grace.” She offered you a smile once more, and this time you returned it sincerely. It must be a family trait, smiling. Her brother Slibhin, you remembered, often sported a smile when speaking to others, but his was snide and arrogant while her’s was humble and giving. 

 “Breun, it is,” you conceded with a nod. “It actually is a fairly handsome name, in my opinion.”

 Breun’s chest swelled as she took a deep breath, trying not to shed a tear. It dawned on you that you may have been the first person to say something truly kind to her. Well, one of the first people at least. She leaned forward to say something, but froze as she just began to open her mouth. A flush of confusion and a tiny bit of fear washed over you.

 You started to speak. “Excuse-”

 “SHHH” Breun scrunched her face up and held a finger uncomfortably close to your mouth. Your heart began to race once more. Sigrdrífa stood up and moved to stand by Breun, putting her hand on her shoulder. The smith seemed completely statuesque. The only part of her that moved was… her ears. They seemed to twitch. You closed your eyes and tried to focus your hearing. 

 At first, you could hear nothing, just stillness. Then, the lightest, faintest dinging sound. It was constant and even, purposeful. Like a musician beating a drum. It was clearly coming from the outside. Drew would be able to see what was happening.

 Breun slammed her hand on the table and pushed herself up, leaving cracks and splinters where her palm hit. She almost sprinted over to the door and flung it open, shouting incoherent curses. You looked over to Sigrdrífa for answers. She just closed her eyes and shook her head.

 “What man would be foolish enough?” What was she talking about? What was foolish and who was doing it?

 “Ah don’ gev a SHITE if yer te’ Fookin’ King o’ Scotlan’! Tha’s MY fookin’ ‘ammer!”

 Oh no.

By the time you were able to hike up your ridiculous dress and run outside, Breun had already tackled your husband to the ground and was in the process of wrestling a hammer out of his hands. Both yours and Drew’s faces were full of surprise and confusion. No one had done this to him before. Many have attempted. Mostly it was just  soldiers who wanted to earn the respect of their King, but they had fallen from him like raindrops against a stone wall.

 At the realization that he had a real challenge before him, Drew’s face quickly turned from shock to savagery. Your husband pushed Breun back and kicked her in the chest, nearly launching her ten feet across the dry, dusty ground straight into the side of an anvil. The girl let out a loud grunt and doubled over. Drew then got back to his feet and looked at you.

 “I thought you said that you could resolve this matter quietly!” The King was about to yell some more when he was knocked into the dirt again. Breun had already gotten back up and charged him, this time focusing on his right shoulder, the arm of which was holding her hammer. Surely enough, he dropped it, and like an attacking hound that had just been called back to her master, she pushed herself off of Drew, grabbed her tool from the dust, and pointed it at him.

 “Right... now fuck off.” 

 That was the clearest you had ever heard her speak. Probably because that was the calmest she had ever looked, satisfied with her performance. Drew, on the other hand, was furious. Even though he had sustained injuries that would render a normal man bedridden for weeks, the mere fact that he had been knocked over was enough to make his blood boil. As Breun stepped over your husband to put her hammer away, he grabbed her ankle and tripped her. She fell flat on her chest, causing the ground to shake and a cloud of dust to explode around her.

 Breun scrambled back to her feet and threw the hammer on a nearby workbench. Drew got up as well, slower than he should have. You called out to him, but he couldn’t hear you. The two stared at one another, and though you couldn’t tell who initiated it, the two locked up as if they were two bulls. You noticed that Breun was about one head shorter than your husband. Drew started pushing forward, causing the stubborn smith’s feet to skid backwards in the dust until her back hit the stone wall of her house. Her eyes went wide as she realized that she couldn’t best your husband in strength. Drew wore a smirk on his face. He knew he had won. The King raised his eyebrows, taunting his opponent. Breun’s face became flushed with fury and embarrassment. 

 You didn’t know if it was out of defiance or desperation, but you watched on in horror as Breun cleared her throat and spat in Drew’s face. You heard gasps behind you. You spun around to see that a gigantic crowd had formed to see their King. Maybe it wasn’t a terrific idea to not have any guards accompany you and your husband to the town. Just then, you saw a woman cover her mouth to silence a scream. You turned back around to see Drew with his arm raised and the hammer in his fist. You bolted forward, trying to intervene, when you saw a flash of silver. The next thing you saw was Sigrdrífa hanging about Drew’s neck, trying to stop his movement somehow, but only having the same effect as a silk scarf would. 

 Although the girl was light, her screams and pleas alerted Drew to her presence. Annoyed, more than anything, he dropped the hammer, shook Sigrdrífa off, and forced Breun to her knees before giving her a swift knee in the gut for good measure. He then marched over to you, wiping off his face.

 “I’m sending the soldiers to settle this mess. They’ll humble that little bitch and we’ll be done with the matter. She had her chance to submit peacefully and she wasted it.” Drew looked at you, waiting for your response. You couldn’t think of anything, except...

 “Why did you take her hammer?”

 That stopped your husband in his tracks. He twisted his face in confusion, and then shook his head. “I figured I could make a full set of armour for every man in Scotland before you finished talking in there.” His answer was mean-spirited and sarcastic. You knew that he was feeling aggressive and embarrassed at the moment, but it still hurt you that he would speak to you like that. You took a step back from him. Drew sighed and rubbed a hand down across his face. 

 “Let’s go.” Drew grabbed your arm, being purposefully gentle, and screamed for the crowd to disperse once more as he led you over to your horses. He untied your mare and lifted you onto her saddle. You saw him grimace in pain at performing the action, but decided that you could say nothing. You had failed. The forge would fall back into the hands of Slibhin (who was still unconscious at his own doorstep) and the two girls you had just met would go back to their miserable lives that they fought so hard to escape. You went to wipe a tear that was forming in your eye when you saw Drew looking at you. He gave you a small smile in an attempt to comfort you, but you turned your head from him. For the first time since your wedding day, you didn’t want to look at your husband. Drew just sighed and started untying his own horse from the wooden beam, only to be stopped by a small hand grasping the hem of his bearskin cape.

 “My Majesty. I beg you to have forgiveness.” Drew turned around and looked down to where the small voice was coming from. Sigrdrífa looked into his eyes and grabbed his hand with both of hers. “The smith... she thinks with her strength, and not her head. She fights before she knows what else to do.” Drew’s eyes softened just a tiny bit. He looked back at Breun, who was staring down at her feet. She nodded in agreement. Sigrdrífa spoke again. 

 “Your rage for her is within me countless times over. I begged her to be quiet... to be calm... and yet she could not do that. But, you cannot ask the waves of the sea not to crash. It is willed to happen by nature. She has no choice. She did not mean to disrespect her King.”

 Drew took a deep breath and rubbed his neck with his free hand. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. This fragile little thing... speaking to the King of Scotland with such grace and calmness after everything that had just happened. And he seemed to be receptive to it all, as well. You couldn’t help but be the tiniest bit jealous of how... regally she was handling everything. The people around you all seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for him to say something, anything. But before he could, Sigrdrífa let go of Drew and reached up to a rip in his shirt that must have been made during the wrestling match a few moments ago and opened it up with her fingers, revealing a deep purple, almost black bruise that was trickling with blood. In a small voice, you heard her almost whisper.

 “She did not mean to hurt you.”

 In an instant, Drew’s eyes were filled with fury once again. Though she didn’t know it, Sigrdrífa had just insulted the King in the worst way imaginable. She suggested that he was hurt. Your husband refused to ever acknowledge pain around other people, especially those who hurt him. No one had ever heard him even grunt in pain when soldiers sparred with him and landed what would be a devastating hit for any other man. Even you didn’t feel comfortable enough yet to ask to clean his wounds when he came back from battle. He did so himself when he believed you to be asleep. When he bedded you during those times, he would behave much more aggressively, often causing you some pain without realizing he did so. It was an attempt to show you that he was just as much of a man as ever, even when in dire need of rest and healing. 

 It was the worst possible thing the girl could have said to Drew.

 He slapped Sigrdrífa’s hand away... hard. You could hear a multitude of gasps join your own as you tried to process what you had just seen. Sigrdrífa didn’t make a sound. She didn’t even seem to flinch. You figured that she must be used to suffering that sort of pain in silence. Breun was ready to lunge at your husband when Sigrdrífa yelled something in her language, and that prevented the smith from taking a single step. You couldn’t help but marvel at the control the tiny girl had over the beast. Drew hesitated for a moment, clearly regretting what he had done, but knowing that if he were to do anything to apologize, he would appear to be weak. Drew looked at Breun.

 “This time tomorrow, members of the royal guard will have come by to inspect the forge. If they find that you are still defiant in obeying your brother, they will do all that is necessary to restore order.” Drew pushed the girl away, and she fell into the dust. Breun ran to her and wrapped her arms around her, almost completely shielding her from the world. Not even paying any mind to Drew. “Does anyone else have any objections?” the King roared. Everyone in the crowd looked at their feet. No one in their right mind would even look into the King’s eyes after everything that had just occurred. Though, you did notice when you scanned your eyes across the masses, that many of the people looked somber. You remembered the smith mentioning in passing that the townsfolk preferred dealing with her over her brother. Through your husband’s decree, not only was Breun losing something, but the village was as well. But you doubted that anyone was going to bring that to his attention.

 Drew untied his horse and put his foot in the stirrup. His steed jumped, as if he didn’t recognize his master. Drew grabbed the reins and jerked the animal’s head to keep it obedient. You couldn’t quite tell why, but a wave of terror spread over you. 

 Watching your husband climb laboriously into his saddle was almost torturous. You saw him bite the inside of his cheek and hold back grunts of pain as he hoisted himself up. When he sat straight, his gaze fixed itself upon you. For a moment you considered turning your head away from Drew, but found it impossible. Be it out of pity, fear, or a mix of both, you were unable to look away from your husband as he stared at you, accusatory.

 “You shouldn’t have gotten their hopes up.”

 You inhaled sharply, intending to speak in your defense, but after a second, you just bowed your head in defeat. You didn’t want to fight. You didn’t have the strength to say a single word of disagreement. “Yes, my King,” was all you could say.

 Drew nodded and moved his horse forward. You followed suit. The sun had just reached its noontime peak. Lunch would do your husband some good, you decided. You were unsure if you would be able to eat anything. Your stomach felt knotted and tight. At least it was all over now.

 “Ye cheated.”

 Drew’s shoulders tensed. He cracked his neck and turned his horse around, as did you. There, a few yards away, holding the frail silver woman was that stubborn smith who just didn’t know when to quit. 

 “Say that again.” Drew’s teeth were clenched. Tight.

 Breun grunted as she rose, holding the silver girl like a bride. She set Sigrdrífa on her feet, and duster her off, subtly tucking a stray hair behind her ear in the process. You heard a quiet “thank you” from the girl. Breun then smiled and gently pushed her off to the side, to relative safety.

 “Ye cheated. Ye were gonnae bash me ‘ead in wit me ‘ammer.”

 “You spat in your King’s face.”

 “Yer naw te’ King when ye fight!” Breun sounded appalled. “A fist cannae tell te’ diff’rence ‘tween comm’ners ‘n nobil’ty. Yer jus’ a man when ye fight... An’ ye cheated.” 

 Of all the things to be concerned with at the moment, you couldn’t believe that the smith was attempting to rationalize and delegitimize her loss to Drew. You didn’t believe that Breun had much wits about her, and clearly it had hurt her pride, but standing back up after she had been humbled and challenging him again wasn’t just stupid, it was suicide. You looked to Drew, but surprisingly, his face was stoic and unreadable. 

 “‘You’re just a man when you fight,’” Drew spoke very slowly, as if contemplating each word’s meaning. There was something in his voice that unnerved you. It seemed... cunning and dripping with malicious intent, like Slibhin had sounded when he was petitioning for some soldiers. Leaning forward in his saddle, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly and he raised his eyebrows.

 “Is that how you feel when you fight? Like a man?” Drew let out a small chuckle. The crowd around him burst with loud, deep laughter that shook the air itself. The smith had told you that the townsfolk didn’t like her, but you didn’t expect this level of animosity. Breun herself didn’t move a muscle. Whether she was petrified by the comment or it had passed her by, unimpactful, you couldn’t tell. She seemed to be waiting for the laughter to die down so she could speak. She seemed very unamused. 

 When the thunderous laughter fell into a dull roar of mocking quips and insults from the crowd, Breun walked toward her forge and picked up the blade of an axe that hadn’t been fitted to a handle yet. The crowd went dead silent. You even saw a few men break out into a sprint away from the scene. That would have made you smile and maybe giggle, but you were too preoccupied with all the stupid things that Breun might do with that blade. However, she just looked it over.

 “T’is wha’ ye’ were werkin’ on?” She didn’t take her eyes off the axe-head, purposefully avoiding looking at Drew, as if to insult him. The King’s grip on his reins tightened and he gave a curt nod.

 “Aye.”

 “Aye? Et’s’ done.”

 “It’s hideous.” You couldn’t disagree with your husband there. The blade was a dark grey color, not at all like the glimmering pieces that your husband would present to you. It seemed warped and strange, like it was rotting. In short, it was hideous. It didn’t even look sharp. But Breun just sighed and shook her head, as if she was humor in the matter. 

 She rolled her shoulders back, and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Sigrdrífa took a small step back and covered her ears. You wondered what was going to happen when you saw Breun open her eyes and let out a monsterous yell. As she did so, she swung her arm around and smashed the blade into the corner of her house. Sparks flew and you heard the most ear-piercing, shrill shriek that you ever thought possible as the stone was hit. Your horse bucked, and it took everything in you to not fall to the dirt. You shushed and calmed her as you stroke her side. You looked to Drew, but his unfriendly gaze was still fixed on the smith. You doubted that he even noticed that you nearly fell from your horse.

 Breun looked at your husband and smiled. The then let her fingers uncurl themselves from the blunt side of the blade and dropped her hand to her side, leaving the axe embedded in the stone. She raised her chin and called out.

 “Calhoun!” 

 You heard an elderly man’s voice ring out through the crowd. “Aye!”

 “Ye’ got any logs stronger ‘n stone?”

 “Nae!”

 “T’is’ll do fine then! Et’s gonnae be ready t’morrow!” Breun then promptly ripped the blade out of the stone and tossed it back onto the side of the forge, never breaking eye contact with the King. She smiled. 

 “Ah’m better ‘n a man. Ah’m a better smith ‘n tha’ fookin’ King.”

 You lowered your head. You truly felt pity for Breun. This was all she could do. Trying to show her strength as a last ditch effort to save something that she had already lost. Like a bear cub would roar in an attempt to terrify the hunter who had already stuck it with a spear. She had nothing left, all that she could do was put on her little show and try not to make a fool of herself any further.

 “No you’re not.”

 Your neck nearly snapped itself as you whipped your head to look at your husband. Being this close to him, you were able to see the features of his face that you couldn’t before. The corners of his eyes were red from lack of sleep. Directly under his nose was a fair amount of blood that had dried and clung itself to his dark facial hair, effectively hiding it from view. His chest was moving, as if just breathing was a great challenge for him. He clearly wasn’t in his right mind, or else he would have dismissed the insult as a fruitless attempt to provoke him. 

 But she was getting to him, and she knew it. Breun’s eyes lit up when Drew took the bait. She walked over to the wall where her tools hung and grabbed two identical hammers. Your eyes widened. She was going to challenge him. For the rights to her forge. Either she knew that something was wrong with your husband or she felt confident that she could out-smith the King. You looked to where Sigrdrífa was standing in the doorframe of her house. Her eyes were closed and her head was turned to the ground, she knew what was happening, but didn’t seem optimistic about it. 

 “Prove et.” Breun stood in the dirt road a few yards away from you, her arm outstretched with a hammer, the handle pointed at Drew. “Prove tha’ yer a better smith ‘n me.”

 This couldn’t go on any further.

 “Stop!” you heard yourself shout from atop your horse. All heads, including the one of your husband, turned to you. You swallowed hard. You despised yourself for what you were going to say… but it had to be said. “The King and I have both indulged in your childish games for long enough! You work at your brother’s forge, under his authority. Whatever chance you believed you had at persuading myself to pity you has been killed by your idiocy and your lack of respect for your King. It is over, smith. You’ve lost.” Breun still didn’t budge. Out of desperation, you added, “ Just today my husband has killed a man far more powerful than you believe you are. Trust me, I am protecting you. To protest any further would be suicide.”

 You raised your chin and gave a definitive nod. Turning to your husband, you saw the smile of satisfaction that you prayed he would have after you had spoken. You looked back at Breun, whose face was unreadable, though she no longer held out her arm. You dared not look at Sigrdrífa. You knew that what you had just said had broken that girl’s heart, betrayed her trust, and damned her to a husband that… you didn’t even want to think about it. You wish you had never learned her story. You wish that you never grew to care about the two women whose lives you were destroying. You wish that you had never seen the home they made together. You wish that you had just kept your mouth shut at Court, and ran to your bedroom to have Drew fuck you until you couldn’t see straight, leaving you in ignorant bliss.

 But you had made a choice, and now you were paying for it. The shame that you felt was masked by the inviting grin that you gave Drew, hoping that he would forget about all this and rush you both back to the keep. Just to be safe, you leaned toward him and whispered.

 “I would like to give you your apology for this mess… along with your welcoming, as soon as we arrive home.”

 A cruel giggle bubbled inside of you. It was extremely ironic. This was the very first time you spoke, or even acted provocatively toward Drew. The first time you initiated intimacy… and it was insincere. But Drew didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t mind. He gave one last look at Breun, who appeared to have taken a few steps toward you and your husband. He didn’t say a word, but simply nodded his head and pulled the reins of his horse, showing his back to the smith. You followed suit, not daring to look the woman in the eye as you turned, knowing that if you did, you would run back to her side and beg the King on her behalf, and the whole Hell you had just endured would start all over again. This was all your fault. Your need to interfere in these women’s lives was the cause of all this suffering. You knew you had to leave before you caused any more harm. You urged your horse forward.

 “Good on ye’, Yer Grace. Ah nev’r took ye’ fer a man tha’ listen’d te ‘is wife. Et’s a rare virtue.” 

 You did your best to keep moving forward. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Drew’s jaw tighten. He was angry, but at least he was still ignoring her. Everything could still work out.

 “Ye’ must love yer Queen. Well… ah least more ‘n yer first one.”

 All the blood drained from your face as your entire body went cold. You closed your eyes and let your head fall into your hands. You heard Drew rear his horse around to face the smith, but it sounded like there was a barrier between you and the rest of the world. As if you were in a bubble. As if you were drowning. 

 “You speak of my wife again, you’ll wish you were never born..”

 “Ah men’ no ‘ffence, Ye’ Grace. Ah jus’ tha’ well… y’know…”

 “WHAT!” Drew screeched, uncharacteristically.

 Even though your eyes were closed tight, the vision of the smith standing there and Drew’s enraged face was burned behind your eyes. You could still see what was happening, and you just knew that Breun was smiling. She thought she was playing your husband perfectly. Riling him up, making him question himself. She thought she knew what she was doing. She thought she was going to get him to fall for her trap, but there was no way she knew how close to terrible, horrific pain and suffering she was, even if she would be spared from death. That was probably for the best. No other man would ever face Drew if he knew what The King was capable of.

 “Et’s jus’ tha’... we,” Breun took a pause, most likely gesturing to the crowd around her, “found et… odd tha’ when sh’ died… ye’ wed ‘gain awful quick-”

 “WHAT ARE YOU SAYING!” Drew screamed. You almost lifted your head and attempted to calm him, but you found yourself unable to move.

 Breun’s voice dropped all of the mock friendliness that it held moments ago.

 “Riches’ woman en te’ world. Lives in te’ world’s bes’ castle. Owns te’ world’s bes’ furs. Et’s te’ world’s bes’ food... Dies of a... chill?” 

 Your hands gripped at your hair as you shook your head. You felt your heart beating faster than it ever had before. Your breaths became shorter and shorter. You felt like you had been poisoned.

 “We jus’ wonder wha’ kinda man ye’ are.” You heard the smith take another step toward him. “Wha’d she do? Got too loud? Too ‘pinionated? Not as pretty as she was when ye’ furst saw ‘er? Squirmed too much when ye’d try te’ force a son in ‘er?”

 You heard Drew hop off of his horse and land on his feet with a pain-filled grunt. You breathed in the dust he had just kicked up, making it harder for you to get any air into your already strained lungs.

 “I’ll show you what kind of man I a-” Drew stopped mid-sentence as you heard a whirring sound of something being thrown and the soft pat of him catching something. It had to be the spare hammer Breun had been holding. You wanted to look, but you were... paralyzed by some invisible force. You felt a cold sweat on your forehead and under-arms. You wanted someone to hold you. Drew. But at the same time, you wanted to run from him. You urged your arms to at least cover your ears so you wouldn’t have to listen, but you couldn’t even do that.

 “Tha’ ye’ will. Ye’ Grace. Tha’ ye’ will.”

 You could hear Breun pacing in the gravel, like an actor on a stage.

 “Now, ye’ can thrash me wit’ tha’ ‘ammer. Beat me ‘till ah’m bleedin’ tru’ me arse, if ye like. Ah’ll recover in a few days... But, if ye’ can win a smithin’ contest ‘gainst me? Ah’ll never wannae show me face ‘gain. Ah’d be broken. Me life’d mean not’in’. Smithin’s all ah am. ‘T’s all ah’ll ev’r be. If ye’ beat me... ye’d kill me.” You heard her footsteps grow louder as Breun took slow steps toward Drew. “And ah t’ink ye’ really wannae kill me.”

 A heavy, sharp silence rained down upon the crowd. You felt dizzy. It’s as if you were frozen solid, but constantly being urged to move, as if lightning strikes flowed through your veins. You closed your eyes tighter, hoping that someone would come and take you away from all this, but praying that no one even noticed you. 

 “We’ll both make pieces. Doesn’t matter what. Better smith wins.” You heard Drew growl. 

 “An’ te’ judge?”

 “The Queen.”

 You tried to react, but there was nothing else your body could do. Nothing else you could possibly feel.

 “Te’ fookin’ Queen? Naw.”

 “The Queen. No one else.”

 “Naw.” Breun seemed unbothered, her demeanor was of someone who was trying to figure out what to wear for the day. “She’d choose ye…” You could hear her stance shift. Her voice became gruff and accusatory.

 “Ah kno’ wha’ ‘appens t’ girls who defy thei’ belov’d ‘usbands.”

 Drew inhaled sharply. More murmurs rippled throughout the crowd. Through it all, you heard footsteps that were heading towards you at an alarmingly fast pace. You gasped as you felt a hand touch your thigh and, as if by some invisible force, you opened your eyes.

 Standing there, looking up at you, was a delirious and bloody Slibhin.

 “My Lady, what have you done?”

 And with that, the world went black around you.

Your fingertips twitched and your eyelids fluttered as you slowly began to regain consciousness. Underneath your fingers, you could feel soft, clean linens covering a mattress. On top of you, you felt the gentle weight of a blanket. You gently moved your head and felt the lenient, forgiving pillow cradle your neck. Your eyes fluttered open, and though your vision was blurred, you could tell instantly, that you were in your room. A contented sigh left you as you turned your head once more to look out of your balcony window, as you did every morning. 

 However, something was different about the sky. You squinted and tried to make sense of what you were seeing. Instead of it’s usual rosy, periwinkle coloring, this morning boasted a sky of bright amber and indigo. You turned over to ask your husband about this, when you found his side of the bed empty. There was not even an imprint left behind by his massive body, as there usually was on the embarrassingly common occasion that he woke before you.

 You made a confused face and sat up in your bed. When the blanket fell from your chest, you saw that you weren’t dressed in your nightgown. Instead you were wearing that damned dress. The tight, itchy, uncomfortable thing that now seemed stuck to your skin by your sweat. You rubbed your forehead and saw dried dirt flake from your skin. You gasped as everything came back to you. The petitioner, the smith, the fight, the shame. Everything. You began to cough uncontrollably as the dried dirt entered your lungs. 

 Enraged, and with tears in your eyes, you fell out of your bed and ran to your bedroom door. You were sure that the sound you made while kicking the door open would be heard clear across the sea. Servants and guards ran to you as you marched down the hallway, unyielding, as if you were made of metal. 

 “Your Majesty! Your Majesty please return to your bed!” you heard one woman yell. “We’ll draw you a bath and bring you some food, my Queen.” you heard another shout. The torches and tapestries all seemed to blur together as you rushed past them. By now, two guards had positioned themselves at the end of the hallway, waiting for you to meet them so they could stop you.

 “Saddle my horse!” your voice boomed throughout the keep. You came up to the two guards.

 “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but we can’t do that. The King gave us direct orders to-”

 “Where is the King? Where is my husband?” you asked with fire in your eyes. You were trying to hide the fact that you were panting, exhausted. A strand of hair fell into your eyes and you violently pushed it back.

 “The King is dealing with official business. He will be back shortly. Please let us escort you back to-”

 “Where is he? I must speak with him. Now.”

 “As I said, My Queen, the King is dealing with-”

 “Where.”

 There were no mirrors about, but you could tell from the look in the guards’ eyes, that you resembled a madwoman. You decided to use this to your advantage. 

 “His Royal Highness is not the only monarch here who knows what it is like to brutalize her enemies. Do not give me a reason to doubt you.” The two guards stood frozen. Now, you knew very well that you couldn’t defeat these two in combat, at least in your present condition, but they recognized your power, and recognized that antagonizing you, in your present condition, would be a very stupid thing to do.

 “His Majesty is dealing with the smith,” one guard whimpered. 

 “They have been… negotiating since yesterday and all of today,” said the other, meekly.

 A million different things rushed into your mind. First, the smith was still alive, at least for now, and had a chance of keeping her forge. That means that Drew must have accepted her challenge and the two had found another judge. Secondly, you had been unconscious for an entire day and a half, and your husband didn’t stay by your side. Thirdly, and arguably most importantly, you knew that you had to be at the scene. You didn’t care about how you looked. You didn’t care that you had disgraced yourself in front of your entire village. All you knew was that you were heavily involved in creating this mess, and you had to be very heavily involved in stopping it.

 “Saddle my horse.” you repeated, gravely. This time, you were greeted with nods and servants rushing about, trying to appease their Queen, or at the very least, avoid her wrath.

As the sun set, you rode fast and hard back to that damned smithy. As you approached, you saw that the entire village had gathered to watch this apparent contest. People had set up tents, and vendors weaved in and out of the crowd, trying to sell their wares. Children sat atop their father’s shoulders. Torches littered the streets, lighting up the town as if it were a festival. Even royal guards were mingling with the common folk. Your brow furrowed as this somehow enraged you.

 “Move!” you yelled, hoping to clear a path for yourself. However, your voice was so small compared to the cacophony that was the crowd, that you yourself could barely hear it. Luckily, if the villagers couldn’t hear the weak plea of an angered Queen, they would still run from a charging mare.

 You ignored the hundreds of eyes that followed you as you rode by, and finally came across the smith’s house. There, you saw everything. 

 First, your eyes went to your husband. Drew was shirtless, hammering away at an anvil. His face was almost unrecognizable as it was completely covered in ash and soot. His eyes were a deep red with irritation caused by the forge’s fumes. His hair had become undone and draped along his shoulders. His shoulders. You could see his muscles spasming with every movement. His body was shutting down, you could see it. And yet, these people cheered him on.

 Your eyes switched over to Breun, who stood beside Drew at another anvil. She had shed her leather jerkin and now only wore a shirt that she had obviously ripped the sleeves ripped off when she bought it. Curiously, the cambric clothing that she wore revealed that she did have a surprisingly female figure. Her breasts were large… well an average size if not a bit smaller than what was proportionate for her. Her waist was by no means slender, but did appear so due to her wide hips. And yet it seemed like there was no place on her body that was not insanely muscular. Not muscles like Drew had, where he took care in making sure he kept in shape for battle (and for you). You could tell she gained her strength from working. She didn’t meticulously sculpt her strength, but she had it all the same. In an odd way, it seemed completely reasonable for men and women alike to be both repulsed by and lust after her form. You knew that if she were able, she would shed the undershirt altogether. Her neck craned and was clearly cramped. She was clearly in pain as well. However, you noticed that her hammering was just a touch faster and harder than Drew’s.

 Suddenly, you saw Breun drop her hammer on the table, grab what appeared to be tongs, pick a small piece of metal and rush to the other side of the area. She dropped it into a barrel where a man made a tally mark onto parchment, before rushing back to her station and taking up the hammer once more. You blinked, and Drew copied her exactly. Then, another man made a tally mark on another piece of parchment.

 You looked around, as if searching for someone to explain to you what was happening. You called out for Drew, but he didn’t hear you. You shouted for a guard, but your voice drowned in the sea of shouts and cheers made by the townspeople. An old man came up to you and tried to sell you some small bird he insisted was pheasant. You shooed him away only to realize the pangs in your stomach. You knew that you hadn’t eaten since this morning, but it shouldn’t be this bad. You felt lightheaded and practically fell off your horse, somehow landing on your feet. The world spun around you as the blood pumped in your ears.

 “My Majesty?”

 That voice. That beautiful little ringing bell of a voice. You gave a sigh of relief and turned to face the sound. But when you turned and saw Sigrdrífa, you were not put at ease. In fact, the exact opposite happened. You saw her there, still as clean and healthy as she was when you left, but dressed in a new gown, one that looked more expensive and more uncomfortable than anything you cared to own. Her hair was fashioned in a gaudy kind of bun, stuck with pins and ribbons. She stood next to an ornate and ridiculously expensive looking canopied seat where her now cleaned off and re-dressed husband, Slibhin was reclined and sipping what appeared to be wine from a goblet (that was also ornate and ridiculously expensive looking.) Soldiers stood beside the two, obviously appearing to guard the two from any unruly peasants or troublemakers, but you knew they were put there by Slibhin to make sure his little wife stood by his side.

 Sigrdrífa took in another breath to speak to you once more when her husband gave an annoying “Ahh!” after finishing his drink and, without looking at her, practically threw the goblet into the silver girl’s hands. This caused her to stop in her tracks and look at the ground, obediently. Like she was a beaten dog. 

 In an instant, you had forgotten your hunger and weakness as you marched straight toward that gaudy throne. One guard looked at the other and nodded toward you. They both pointed their pikes toward you.

 “Careful, witch,” one guard warned.

 “Stay back now, we don’t want trouble,” tried the other.

 You looked at the two guards incredulously. They stared back at you, confused. Slibhin, without looking at you, rolled his eyes and tossed a bronze coin in your general direction. It fell into the dust a few feet away from you.

 “There, now get out of my sight… begging whore,” he spoke under his breath. Sigrdrífa’s eyes widened and she covered her mouth. Again, your anger made you forget your appearance and you practically growled through your clenched teeth.

 “Is that how you treat your Queen?”

 You had never seen someone’s eyes widen so quickly. Slibhin flopped from his chair and into the dirt, groveling and weeping. You saw Sigrdrífa smile ever so slightly at that. The two guards began to walk toward you with immense concern in their eyes.

 “My Queen, let us escort you back to-” You put your hand up to stop them and beckoned for Sigrdrífa to follow you. She went to you immediately, but the guards were not yet done. “Please, the King has ordered all of his guards to keep you-”

 “Fuck the King’s orders!” you screamed with impunity. “If my husband demands something of me, he will tell me to my face. You-” you pointed at Sigrdrífa again. “You’re coming with me.” You grabbed the girl’s hand and walked toward the front door of her house. You paused as she opened the door for you and you looked back at Drew. He had just finished another piece of… something, and he was running to drop it in his barrel, which made him run directly toward you. 

 His eyes were upright and you could have thought they were staring at you, but you knew deep down, that he was staring through you. It’s not that he didn’t recognize you. He didn’t know you. You had seen that look in his eyes before, when he was training in the yard. His intensity and focus always inspired the new recruits, but he always snapped out of it when he saw you. But this time it was different. You had seen him prepare for battles before, but right now… he was in battle. And he was terrifying. Donning only a kilt and boots, your King was fighting for his life.

 You came to when Sigrdrífa took your arm and attempted to lead you into her house. You ripped your arm away from her and looked back at Slibhin who was attempting to follow you in. “No.” was all you had to say before he fell down once more and crawled back to his guards and his ridiculous chair. You turned once more to Sigrdrífa and nodded curtly before walking into the house before her.

With your head turned down, you marched toward the table and chairs that you remembered from your first visit nearly two days ago. You needed something, some kind of base to hold you up. Some sort of comfort. You plopped down into what you remembered to be a blissful, makeshift pillow, and yowled in pain as your backside fell into flat, hard wood. Your body wanted to hop back up to a standing position, but your legs wouldn’t let you. You stayed seated on the most uncomfortable seat imaginable. 

 You opened your eyes wide and were greeted by a pristine, beautiful home that held you in like a prison. All of the… personality you saw two days ago was ripped away, crumpled up, and thrown into a far corner to be thrown out later. Replaced by sterile and beautiful… things. The only sign of life you could detect was a hint of embers burning beneath a simmering pot. You opened your mouth to comment on the change when you heard a little grunt and the closing of the front door. Sigrdrífa turned to you and curtsied. 

 “Hello again, my Queen. Are you well?” She smiled. Like a little doll, she was. Her back straight, her hands holding each other in front of her. Just like your servant girls did when they were awaiting an order. Her smile was perfect. It made her ears perk up and showed a small, charming crinkle in the corners of her eyes. Her eyes, oddly enough, were the ones that betrayed her. They were full of fear. She didn’t feel safe. Her husband had control over her once more, and her only friend in the world was practically killing herself, unable to keep the promise she made of him never touching her again. She wasn’t sure if she could even trust you. She was all alone. This was her only form of protection now. Her beautiful, dutiful doll-like demeanor was all she had for armour. 

 You stared at her for a moment. She stayed perfectly still, as if she were made of marble. A wave of sadness washed over you and for a moment, all of your anger and confusion subsided. You opened your arms out toward her. It only took a moment before her mask cracked, and she ran to you, falling to her knees and sobbing into your lap. You just held her and stroked her long, silver hair, gently shushing her. 

 Her shoulders heaved with each gasping breath she took. Her heart beat as quickly as a mouse’s, almost like it was humming. You wanted to let her cry. Let her expel all the fear, sadness, and hatred that was festering inside of her little glass heart. But you knew you couldn’t do that. You needed to act. And in order to do that, you needed answers. You took your hand and gently lifted the girl’s chin so that her red, swollen eyes met yours.

 “Sigrdrífa,” you gently tried, “What is happening here?”

 She just closed her eyes tightly and shook her head before seeking refuge again in the folds of your dress. You took a sharp breath before taking her chin once again and forcing her to look at you. This scared her, but you held firm.

 “Tell me. I need to know.” 

 She looked at you for a moment, not saying anything. You silently kicked yourself for your aggression. 

No matter what urgency you felt, it would be cruel of you to take advantage of this disadvantaged girl. You smoothed your thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear.

 “Please. I don’t know what’s happening.”

 The girl nodded her head. She slowly stood up and sat in the chair opposite of you, bracing herself against the hard, unforgiving wood. She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. Her voice shook.

 “The smith and the King are in contest, My Queen.” She sniffled and cleared her throat. “They have been smithing to see who can first make one thousand…” she trailed off, her mouth slightly open and her brow furrowed as she tried to think of the correct word. You leaned forward to try to encourage her. She sighed. 

 “Nagl.” She said, and made a hammering motion.

 “Nails? The first to make one thousand nails?” you gently pressed. Her eyes lit up.

 “Yes. One thousand nails. It is claimed that in order to be known as a true smith, a man must first make one thousand nails. The greatest of these smiths can forge a single nail in less than one minute, I have heard.”

 You immediately tried to calculate in your head how far along those two must be if they had been smithing for almost two days, and if what Sigrdrífa said was true. But your head was too cloudy to come to any kind of answer. You closed your eyes and pressed your palms into your temples. You could feel the world spinning around you. 

 “My Queen? What is wrong? Are you to become sick?”

 You absolutely felt that way, but somehow, you were able to look the silver girl in her concerned eyes and compose yourself.

 “I’m fine… I just…” You had to think of something to say. Anything. “How did they get all that metal?” Sigrdrífa looked down. You figured she didn’t understand the question. “For the nails? I don’t remember seeing enough metal to make one thousand nails in the smithy.” The little woman shuffled her feet for a moment before speaking to you deliberately and slowly, as if careful not to offend you.

 “The metal was taken from the royal forge. The King ordered it to be brought here after you… were taken back to the castle.” 

 You nodded your head, accepting the answer. Everything started to make slightly more sense. Forging one thousand nails would eliminate the need for a judge. Also, you supposed that the nails could be used to rebuild houses in the countryside that had been destroyed by the recently ended war. You sighed. Everything seemed more reasonable than it did a few moments ago. It felt like a small victory in a way, understanding what was happening around you when it felt like the world was trying it’s very best to confuse and scare you. You wanted to know more, as if it gave you more power over your situation.

 “So, what happened while Drew and I went back to the keep? Did the entire village swarm the house and set up this… festival?” You asked in a lighthearted manner. This caused Sigrdrífa to pause and hold her hands to her chest. She murmured. 

 “The King did not follow you…  He stayed and arranged the terms of the contest with the smith.”

 Your heart sank. Drew, your beloved husband, hadn’t even followed you back to the keep? How did he know you were safe? How did he know you were even alive? Did he not expect you to wake up before he had won? And if you did wake up (which you did), did he not expect you to come back to him? The one thing that you had always believed to be true about your husband was that Drew protected what was his. No matter what. And all of a sudden this truth was no longer true. You felt your eyes sting once again, but you held those damned tears back. You had cried enough.

 Sigrdrífa leaned forward and gently took your hand, cradling it as if the bone were broken. She took a few breaths before looking you in your eyes.

 “My Majesty, is the King… good to you?” she whispered, as if she were telling you a secret while sat in a crowded room. 

 But, you had been asked this question before. For the first few weeks you were married to Drew, you had received dozens of  letters from your parents asking about how your new husband treated you. You assured them in many, many responses that you were being treated well, and that Drew showed you nothing but respect and adoration. However, this time the question put you off, quite a bit actually. You understood her concerns, considering the fact that she had only ever seen Drew as this seemingly aggressive tyrant. But he had only ever acted that way because he was being provoked. Sure, you didn’t appreciate how he was behaving, but you at least understood why he was behaving that way. Breun hadn’t even tried to come to an agreement in a civil manner. She had never even spoken a civil word to Drew after their first interaction... which was her tackling him. Hell, the only reason she had even listened to a word you said was because Sigrdrífa forced her to.

 You wondered to yourself how this little thing could control a giant. You looked back at the silver girl sitting opposite of you. Her face was leaned in and attentive. Her eyes were wide with curiosity and care. 

 “Yes, sweet girl. The King is very good to me. He is just very…” You searched for the right word. “Frustrated.” You paused and raised your eyebrow. “And... I’m positive that the… boarish actions of a certain smith haven’t helped him very much.”

 You were wondering what reaction you would get out of her. You suspected she would be embarrassed or ashamed of her sister-in-law, eager to apologize for her actions. Instead, she wore a smirk on her face and let out a small huff. 

 “I am afraid that the smith’s behavior is my doing,” Sigrdrífa murmured. “When I was newly brought to the village, she never even spoke. She only ate when the food was tossed to her. At night she would lie on straw and rotting furs on the outside of the house, but never close her eyes. Flugur would buzz by her; crawl on her skin, bite her, and she would allow them.”

 That was a shock to you. You wracked your brain, trying to imagine Breun as docile. How could someone so hardheaded be so passive? Sigrdrífa said herself that it was in Breun’s nature to be confrontational. 

 “When did she become so… protective?” you asked her, trying to sound nice. Sigrdrífa’s face turned red and her eyes refused to meet yours.

 “Because… I needed to be protected, my Queen.”

 There was shame in her voice. Guilt, even. A tear fell from her eye as she shook her head, as if trying to bring herself back to reality. A million things flew through your mind; mostly images. Images of Sigrdrífa cowering in fear. Slibhin with that damned smile on his face, touching her. Breun finally taking action against him for the first time in her life. The look Breun gave Sigrdrífa, letting her know she was safe. Sigrdrífa showing Breun the first kindness the smith had ever known. The most fragile beginnings of trust connecting the two as they both tried to navigate how to live with happiness. 

 Your thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of a bell and the raucous cheering of the crowd outside.

 “Only a few nails left,” Sigrdrífa murmured to you. 

 You turned back to her. “Who has only a few nails left?”

 “The King, of course. Why else would the people cheer?” Sigrdrífa crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself. She let her head hang low. “It’s almost over.” You saw a few tears splash down onto her lap. You didn’t reach for her though. Instead, you were confused.

 “You don’t think Breun will win?”

 Sigrdrífa shook her head. “Her body is too worn.”

 You opened your mouth to ask why she was worn, but your hostess guessed your question before you asked it.

 “She has been forging my mundr… my bride-price. I was traded to Slibhin for weapons and armor; the smith had to make these to pay for me. She had been working for months to complete things for my father, my brothers, and their favorites. She pushed herself so far... if she did not complete them in time, I would have been taken back by my father. AND... after she had finished those, she still did not rest. No, she worked twice as hard to finish her work for the villagers that she had missed during that time! Only a few days ago could I convince her to sleep the whole night, and eat all of her food! Now she challenges the King to-”

 Sigrdrífa cut herself off with a huff, clearly frustrated. You had to suppress a giggle at how flustered the girl was, but you understood the fear and anxiety she felt. She believed that Breun had no chance against your husband. However, you knew that not to be true.

 “Sigrdrífa, the King may not have as much of an advantage as you might believe,” you confessed. “He has been battling a rebellion for the past month, don’t you forget. And he hasn’t rested since returning.

Sigrdrífa, his body is worn as well. I don’t even know how he’s able to stand upright.” You shifted in the uncomfortable seat and cringed at the dry creaking sound it made. Sigrdrífa placed her hand on the side of her head, embarrassed that she hadn’t remembered the rebellion. To be fair, it was a smaller army that took up arms. You weren’t even sure of the name of the traitor, yourself.  Sigrdrífa bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile, but you saw hope return to her eyes. There was a change Breun could be the victor.

 “Who do you think will win?” She asked the question rather quickly. 

 “I don’t know.” It was a diplomatic answer, but to be fair, you truly didn’t know. At first, you believed Breun would win only because of your husband’s injuries. But now, you sincerely weren’t sure. However, you knew that that answer wouldn’t satisfy the girl across from you.

 “Who do you want to win?” The question stung, as if it were accusatory, even though the tone in which it was asked was innocent. It was a test. An evil test. Of course you wanted Breun to keep her forge and live happily ever after, that went without thought; but you didn’t think your heart could take seeing Drew be defeated after everything you had put him through. Yes, you were angry with him for not staying by your side when you were unconscious, but he only because Breun had insulted you… and Drew’s first wife. You didn’t like his rage but you understood it. You did want Breun to win, but you didn’t want Drew to lose. You looked back up at Sigrdrífa who held your gaze firmly, and answered.

 “I want the man I love to win, as any wife would.”

 The silver girl nodded. “I would expect nothing else.” Her eyes were sad, but intelligent. Your words had caused her pain, but she understood that you didn’t mean them to. You expected her to read between the lines, but what you didn’t expect was a small breath of a giggle escaping her throat.

 “It is strange then. That we are the same, but… enemies. Sitting here speaking as if friends.” You gave her a smile, showing her you understood, but the girl continued. “Two small women with the same, but opposite hope; for their lover to defeat-”

 Your smile disappeared. Not because you were unhappy, but because you saw Sigrdrífa’s face somehow turn even whiter than it already was. It took you only a moment to realize what she had said.

 She had called Breun, her sister in law, her lover. 

 You hadn’t been Queen for very long, but you were well aware of what would happen if the town learned of what she had just said. There would be no saving either of them. The two would be hunted down to the corners of the kingdom. The common folk would torture them, treat them like demons; like animals. What would happen to the two girls, you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. If someone knew about this, it would be well within the law, and the interest of your simple-minded subjects, to have both women put to death.

 But someone did know about it. You knew about it. And you certainly had the power to enforce the law, and swore to have the interests of your simple-minded subjects at heart. You looked at the frozen girl across from you, her eyes desperately trying to read yours. Trying to figure out what you were about to say... or do. 

 It took you less than a second to come to your conclusion.

 “You misspoke, Sigrdrífa. I know this isn’t your best language. You used the word ‘lover.’ You meant to say ‘family.’”

 You couldn’t help but smile on the inside as Sigrdrífa sucked in three lungs’ worth of air and let out a long sigh of relief. The rosy color returned to her cheeks. She gave the quiet laugh of an exhausted woman and placed her hand over yours.

 “We both love our family.”

 You reached forward with your other hand and covered hers in turn. You felt something scratch against your skin and looked down. Around her wrist, the girl had tight sleeves embroidered with prickly threads. They were very beautiful.

 You grasped the fabric with both hands and tore it apart. Underneath, you saw her irritated skin finally touch the air. You looked at her and raised your brow. She gave you a toothy smile and immediately presented her other sleeve to you, and you ripped that as well. After that, she grabbed at the fabric wrapped around her neck and tore that collar away as well. Beads and other small gemstones flung themselves from her throat and skittered across the table. You reached out and undid the ribbons in her hair, letting it fall loosely around her waist. Sigrdrífa kicked off her shoes and freed her legs from her stockings and underskirts. She stood up, knocking her chair to the ground, and took fistfuls of lacing that tied the back of her dress, yanking it loose. 

 You let your laughter ring throughout the house. The sight of Sigrdrífa dressed in the most expensive of rags…

 “That cannot be very comfortable.” The silver girl pointed at you.

 She was right, of course; but you could never destroy your dress. You already looked unpresentable as Queen; covered in filth and hair strewn about. The heat of the last two days left you drenched in sweat. You were certain that if you wrung your sleeves a steady stream of the putrid liquid would spill out. The accumulation of dirt and filth that clung to your body itched to no end. That sweat caused the heavy fabric to cling itself to your skin and that dirt made you feel every wrinkle and crease as if they were gashes and gouges of your very own flesh. You had been through so much already, ripping up your dress would just be… be… 

 You balled up the fabric of your underarm and yanked as hard as you could. A small ripping noise came from your dress, but not much else. You heard light footsteps come towards you and two white hangs join your fist. The next thing you knew, your arm was completely free from it’s silky prison. You waved it around in nonsensical patterns, just wanting to feel the air brush past your skin.

 You didn’t even consider the state of your dress as you relished your newfound partial freedom. Sigrdrífa’s giggle resounded throughout the house as she held your sleeve in her arms. Bunching up the fabric of the inside of your other arm, you let out a yelp as you ripped it open. A few more tugs, and your forearm was completely naked, with it’s coverings hanging by a thread by your elbow. 

 “How do you feel now, My Majesty?” There was a kidding nature to her words. You took in a breath to laugh and became very aware of the restrictive waistline that held your stomach in. You clawed at your back trying to get a grip on any seam or hem that you could use to tear it apart.

 “Help me undo this damned sewing and I’ll finally have enough breath to tell you.” 

 She hadn’t even taken one step toward you when you heard the roar of the crowd outside once again. You looked at Sigrdrífa, your eyes asking what that noise meant. The only thing you saw was a flash of her hair as she raced toward the front door. 

You tripped over the threshold and stumbled out of the house, crashing into the dirt. Luckily, no one seemed to notice. It seemed that every head in Scotland was turned toward The King and The Smith. 

 “My Queen!”

 All except for two. The guards that had greeted you when you confronted Slibhin rushed toward you, grabbing you and helping you stand upright.

 “My Queen, allow us to escort you back to the castle.”

 “Your Grace, please come with us.”

 You pushed them off of you. Though there was no strength left in your arms, the soldiers heeded your warning, standing at attention from a very respectable distance  (probably doing everything they could not to upset you considering their introductions to you.) That was when your eyes locked onto Slibhin, who stood at the edge of the crowd, wringing his hands in desperation. He was planning something. You just knew it. Those hands were the hands of a schemer. You almost laughed at how different they were compared to his sister’s. His hands were spotless, well groomed, but weak and feeble, and he used them to plot. To gesture and accentuate his honeyed words as he tried to ruin lives for his own benefit. In contrast, Breun’s hands were scarred, rough, and ugly, but strong and efficient. They were used to make useful things, powerful things. Her hands were like the weapons that she made: grotesque, but practical. 

 Just like that unfinished axe she had forced into the stone wall of her house. It didn’t look like much, but if you weren’t careful, it could hurt y-

 Slowly, you lifted your hand to your eye, gazing in wonder at your thumb. The nick from two days earlier had almost healed. 

 “My Queen? Are… you alright?” The two guards looked at you with apprehension. You turned your body fully to them, and they snapped back at attention.

 “Go and get me the sword of the rebel. The one Drew gave me two days ago.”

 The two men didn’t move. Perhaps they were uncomfortable with the idea of a less than stable monarch wielding a deadly weapon in a heavily populated area, but you soon put those worries to rest.

 “If you don’t, I may mention to my husband that a certain pair of his soldiers believe that his wife is a witch.”

 The two men raced off as if their lives depended on their task at hand… which was probably the case… You truly did hope that there would be no need for what they were fetching. You truly hoped that the contest would end in a clear way, or that Slibhin didn’t dare to protest the eventual outcome, whatever it may be. You prayed that you would be able to look the two guards in their terrified eyes and order them to take it back to the castle before the King learned that it had been “stolen”. But you needed the traitor’s sword just in case. Just in case.

 At last, you turned your attention back to the task at hand.

 The blurred faces of the spectators didn’t hold the fascination and awe that they did when you first rode into town. You dragged your feet through the crowd, absently pushing through the field of brown and grey, searching for silver. As your vision slowly began to uncloud itself, you looked at the scores; there was nothing there. The two men who were making the tally marks just sat and stared with eyes wide as the moon.

 Of course this was the last nail. Of course the two were tied at the last nail. Of course. 

 You couldn’t will yourself to care who won. You just wanted it to be over. Still shuffling forward, you somehow managed to reach the very front of the gathering, all but coming face to face with Drew. 

 He was turned to the side, hammering away at the anvil. Each hit triggered sparks which illuminated his features. He was tired. His skin seemed to be slipping off of his face. The amber coloring against his black, soot covered body was terrifying. He looked like death.

 “Drew.” It was less than a whisper. You didn’t even feel air pass your lips, but you called for your husband. He heard you. Though he didn’t look at you, you saw his jaw clench and a tear fall roll down his cheek, leaving a trail of clean skin in its wake. When it fell, it landed on the piece of metal he was hammering away at, causing a sinister hissing noise. Your eyes fell to the anvil where Drew was banging his tool on a rod of metal, trying to break a piece off; for the final length of the nail, no doubt.

 Though you didn’t tell your eyes to move, they did anyway. You looked past Drew to see the smithing woman shaping the head of an already broken off, and squared length of metal. Her nail was almost finished. She was about 30 seconds ahead of him. Just then, another set of tears fell, but this time it came from Sigrdrífa, who was standing opposite Breun; across the anvil. Tears of joy.

 You returned your attention to your husband, whose breath was ragged and uneven. He was crying like a child. A child who had lost a game. There was no higher form of sadness and despair. 

 “It’s alright. It’s almost over.”

 Drew shook his head violently. 

 “It’s alright. We can go home soon.”

 You didn’t even know where you found the energy to speak. There was nothing left inside of you. You couldn’t even feel happy for Breun, even though your compassion for her was what started this in the first place. You just wanted all this to end. You wanted to watch it all end. And it was going to end with Breun.

 Looking up at the smith again, you were able to see that the nail was done and her hand was reaching for her tongs so that she could carry it to her barrel. You felt an air brush past you as your eyes caught a glimpse of something… fashionable. A dainty hand from an ornate sleeve snatched the tongs from off the anvil. You turned your head to see Slibhin, eyes wide, holding the tongs against his chest.

 You knew what was going to happen next, but what you didn’t expect was the sound. Not only did Breun lunge at her brother, but she tipped over the anvil in the process, sending it crashing to the ground with her.

 Slibhin shrieked like a woman as he was beaten. Half of the crowd cheered at the sniveling coward being taught a lesson, while the other half gasped in horror, believing that the sounds he made were actually coming from the frail, silver girl they had seen rush past them a moment ago. 

 As for you, you couldn’t deny that watching the boy whipped gave you a great satisfaction, but your heart sunk upon closer inspection of the actual brawl. 

 Breun wasn’t actually trying to strike her brother, but instead was trying to recover the tongs from his grasp. But considering that she spent two days exhausting herself, and that the boy was squirming like the worm he was, that task appeared to be impossible. 

 All this while, you saw fire return to your husband’s eyes. He let out a yell as he slammed his hammer down, separating the piece of metal from the rod. He didn’t even try to shape the metal into an actual nail. He just threw his hammer down and reached for his own tongs.

 “NO!”

 Your neck snapped to Breun, who (while still struggling with her brother) looked at your husband with fear and loathing in her eyes. He was cheating again. He wasn’t honoring the rules of a fight, like he did when the two first locked up. Her eyes were bright red with tears. With her attention diverted, Slibhin was able to squirm out of her grasp and run off, tongs in hand. 

 Out of the corner of your eye, you swore you saw Drew smirk. He used his tongs to grab the metal, and turned away from her. You wanted to say something, but you knew that nothing you could say would change Drew’s mind about the forge, about Slibhin, about Sigrdrífa and Breun, about anything.  To be honest, you were a bit relieved that you had no control over the situation. It was as if no one could blame you anymore. You were surprised as something resembling peace slowly washed over you. You let your eyes flutter to a close and sighed in relief.

 That small sanctuary of stillness was shattered like glass when you heard this noise. It was a wail, a shriek, a scream of pain, a howl of  desperation, a squeal of something small trying to defeat something big. You opened your eyes and saw Breun, sprinting like she was being hunted; smoke emanating from her closed fist. 

 You would swear until your final day that you could see the orange glow of the nail burning through her palm, the blaze visible through the back of her hand.

 Drew didn’t even have time to look over at her. The smith lunged herself toward her barrel, her arm just reaching over it, and dropped her finished nail on top of the 999 others she had forged.

 Clink.

 The crowd erupted. In cheers, nonetheless. Whether the smith won their support by her performance, or they were all so happy the damned contest was over, you couldn’t tell. Breun let herself fall to the ground, not even clutching at her still burning hand. The dead skin and blisters of her palm had a few little embers burning at the edges, making it look like she was holding stars.

 Everything else seemed to fall into place after that. Drew’s body gave out and he fell into the dirt. Sigrdrífa ran and threw herself onto her lover, holding her face and placing thousands of kisses on her forehead and cheeks, all the while sputtering out Norse gibberish... and crying, for what you hoped would be the last time this century. Breun was whispering things as well.

 “Safe… yer safe now… safe… little one… safe… safe...”

 You had hoped for a moment that this would be the image their story ended on.

 The beautiful hope was dashed once the previously disappeared Slibhin fell in front of Drew, shaking his shoulders and screaming fruitlessly into his face. 

 “You can’t do this! I’m the only one who can run the smithy! Without me, there would be no smithy! Every single thing that… beast has forged was because I made her! Your Majesty, if I’m not in charge of my sister… this town will collapse! Your kingdom-”

 That was when Drew pushed Slibhin away, letting out a growl of agony while doing so. You rushed to Drew, trying to find some way of comforting your husband, but then the boy switched targets, clinging to your skirt and groveling at your feet.

 “My Queen. My beautiful, fair, flawless Queen. You now realize that you have made a grave mistake. And I know that you will do what’s right in fixing it. I know that you let your emotions control you when it came to my sister. You were entranced by a woman being able to perform a man’s task, but you must understand: the only reason she ever smithed anything in the first place was because I allowed it! I ordered it! I have made deals regarding everything she has ever forged! Before this month, my sister never even picked up a hammer without me saying so! She’s obeyed me all her life! I’m the reason for her success! Please, I beg of you; allow me to serve the realm through my forge!”

 Your patience was at its absolute limit with this one. You glanced back at the crowd. Most of them had turned and left for their homes now, knowing that as soon as their head hit the pillow, it would not be coming back up in at least two days. There were a few stragglers, who had stayed behind to ogle at the exhausted competitors. Luckily, castle guards who had been standing watch over the crowd herded the onlookers away. Good. No one would be around to witness their Queen beat the ever-loving shit out of one of her subjects.

 Both fortunately and unfortunately, before you were even able to clench your fist, you heard two voices calling out to you between their panting and coughing. 

 “Your… Majesty… we… we were able to locate the… the sword,” sputtered one.

 “My… My Queen… the… the traitor’s... sword,” tried the other. He fell to one knee and presented the sheathed blade to you. With a swift kick, you rid your hem of the sniveling boy and walked over to the exhausted and terrified guards. 

 The original sheathe had been lost on the battlefield. This one clearly was taken from the armory by the two guards, just needing something to transport the weapon. The exposed hilt was made from a pitch black metal, but despite the low visibility, it was extremely well sculpted with images. The pommel was a single eye, with a pale blue gem as the iris. It looked hauntingly beautiful. Like the sky on a bright winter’s day, when the frost is hard on the ground. The length of the hit was engraved on both sides with the image of a running horse that had 8 legs. The crossguard was two ravens spreading their wings and cawing. 

 The guard clearly expected you to grab the entire sword, sheathe and all, but you wrapped your hands around the hilt and pulled the weapon free. Where the blade and hilt met, were the heads of two wolves, each with their mouths wide, as if swallowing the blade.

 The look of fear in the eyes of everyone around you made you feel all that much more powerful. You wanted so very badly to use the sword for its intended purpose, on anyone really, but you had a burning suspicion that you desperately wanted confirmed, more than anything else.

 You walked over to the side of the forge where Breun had tossed the head of an axe after embedding it in stone. With an aching arm, you raised the sword so it lay side by side with the axe. 

 It was a perfect match.

 Both the blade of the traitor and the axe that split stone were unsightly; grisly to behold. The ripples that seemed to swim within the metals itself were identical. These pieces were unlike anything you had ever seen before. 

 There was no doubt in your mind that they were made by the same woman.

 You marched yourself over to where Breun and Sigrdrífa lay. The smaller of the two was busy trying to heave the larger one into the house. No doubt to tend to her. The smith looked horrible, but not just because she was tired and dirty. Her breathing was labored and heavy. Her chest was expanding and contracting rapidly. You could hear her struggle to inhale. Her arms and legs were shaking uncontrollably, with the tremors kicking up dirt around her. Sweat poured from every part of her skin and her face was beet red, no doubt with fever. 

 Ignoring the smith’s state, you stood over her, the sword in your clenched fist. You didn’t care about the look of terror on Sigrdrífa’s face. If she wanted to believe that you were about to hurt Breun, then that was her own foolishness. You held the blade across your body, letting the smith see the entirety of it; all of its details.

 “You made this.” It wasn’t a question. Breun’s eyes took a second to focus on you, then the blade, then back to you. You could tell she was holding onto consciousness by a thread.

 “Aye.”

 You were satisfied. Taking a step back and turning on your heel, your eyes fell once again on Slibhin. He was looking at his sister with his jaw so agape that you thought it was going to fall off. His eyes were as wide as an owl’s. It took everything in your power not to cut him down right then and there as he opened his mouth to lie to you once more.

 “She admits it. In it’s feverish state the brute lets the truth come to light. She has committed treason, but knows not the severity of her confession. Your Majesty, please find it in your heart to spare my feebleminded sister her life. Yes, her crime is very worthy of a long and painful death, but you must remember that without her, there would be no smith in your village… an essential part of any local economy. Please allow her to continue her practice… under my strict supervision. I promise you that I will do the thinking for her.” Slibhin started to snicker. “You… you clearly see that she has no judgement… she has even brought herself nearly to the brink of death by challenging her King!”

 You wanted to plunge the sword through his neck when he threw his head back in laughter. But instead, you joined him in his mocking. You glanced back at Sigrdrífa, whose face was painted with confusion; but not fear. She knew you were up to something, and she knew that you were on her side, but she didn’t know what you were planning.

 “It is true,” you said, turning back to the boy. “that your sister is very dull-witted.” Slibhin’s eyes showed a sense of relief that you hated for him to have, but were delighted to know you were about to take it all away. “I would guess… that your sister forged enough weapons and armor for the traitor and his generals… and didn’t even know what it was for!” He laughed even harder at that, assured that you suspected nothing of him, that you finally came around to hating his sister as much as he did.

 “But you, on the other hand, are well aware of every deal you make. And you’re very smart about it too, I’ll bet.” Slibhin bowed in mock humility, still bursting with chuckles. He gave you a beaming smile. He felt comfortable. Good.

 “And you were well aware of the deal you made with the traitor. You were well aware of what you were making, who would use them, and what they would be used for.”

 Slibhin’s facial expression didn’t change one bit. The phony smile stayed plastered onto his face, but you were able to notice the light leave his eyes. You knew that given enough time, he would conjure some words that would allow him to weasel his way free, escape the situation unscathed, mold his circumstances to his liking and find a way to enrich himself while dragging those around him down. You were not going to give him that time. 

 “Guards. Arrest this boy for acting as a conspirator and as a traitor.”

 During the time you were talking with Slibhin, several royal guards and servants from your keep had come down to try and wrangle their monarchs back into the keep, so there were more than enough people more than willing to take care of whatever needed to be taken care of. A plethora of men, and a few scullery maids and stable boys as well, descended upon him. He barely tried to fight them off, only flinging his arms in a weak, sluggish manner. His eyes stayed wide, but now his smile was now gone. Instead, his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. After he was forced to his knees by two rather large washerwomen and his hands were bound, he finally found his voice.

 “M-My… my... my sister-”

 “-smithed under the direction of you and your father for her entire life, and if you somehow believe that you can convince me that she was the one responsible for all this I will save myself some time and cut your head off right here.” 

 You brandished the traitor’s sword and held it above the boy’s head. He shivered and shook and in that moment, you knew what Drew felt like when he passed judgement on criminals and lowlifes. It made you feel too powerful. Slibhin reeked of fear and you inhaled the stench like it was a gift from the Gods. As if it made you stronger. You looked over to where your husband lay, scanning his broken body until you met his eyes. He was looking at you as if you were a storm. Powerful, terrible, beautiful, and part of him wanted to run into you just to feel your chaos for himself. But you also noticed the tiniest glint of fear as well. You had never acted like this. He didn’t know you could act like this. You didn’t even know you could act like this. But you could; and you were. 

 Just then, you felt the beginnings of hunger swirl around in your stomach. Not for food, but for him. It reminded you of when your King teased you in the great hall as he held court. When you longed for his hands on you. When you longed for him to take you. To fuck you.

 But this time, it was different. You weren’t fantasizing about his power. You weren’t thinking about the things he decided he would do to you. Instead you were lusting after the power that you felt inside yourself. You weren’t feeling gracious for any affection the King showed you. You felt entitled to pleasure. You deserved it. You were the Queen of Scotland, and you wanted to make sure he knew it. 

 A knowing smirk formed from the corner of your mouth and you winked at Drew. His mouth fell open slightly and his eyes flashed with an emotion that you didn’t recognize.

 “B-b-but why? Why would I betray my King and Queen? I-I need you to maintain my status.” 

 You clenched your jaw so tightly you thought your teeth were going to crack. Your head swiveled back to the kneeling boy who took a small victory in making you turn around to pay attention to him once more. His ears perked up and he straightened his back a bit. He reiterated his point.

 “Why would I choose to make so many weapons, to start a war, when I had already achieved everything I wanted?” 

 You didn’t want to answer him. You didn’t care enough to answer him. You knew he was wrong. You knew he was guilty. You knew he was… 

 But…

 A shadow of doubt crept up from your stomach through your throat. From the bottom of your heart, you felt that the boy was evil, but you had no evidence. No proof that he was a slimy, conniving, untrustworthy, unfaithful, traitorous- 

 “Because you did not have a choice…”

 Sigrdrífa stood timidly by the incoherent, mumbling smith. A few fingers from her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes stared off into nothing, but you saw her mind working something out. A scornful, mocking laugh was heard, and Slibhin forced a look of amusement on his face.

 “No choice? I alone was in charge of-”

 “You were forced to make weapons and armor…to pay for… me…”

 Time stopped. Fire and ice chased one another up and down your spine. You felt everything and nothing all at once. Your knees felt so stiff that they would snap if you attempted to move. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Breun vomit out some burgundy, watery liquid into the dirt by her head. It went unnoticed by everyone else, who was busy staring at the silver girl. Sigrdrífa looked at you. You must have had a stupid look on your face, as she turned and kept talking to Slibhin, as if trying to indirectly explain everything to you.

 “If you did not… my father would have taken me back… and… without me… you would not be the son of a noble...and you would have no right to the forge. You had no choice.”

 A small giggle left her. You looked at her incredulously. She moved over to her husband. Breun let out a weak whine and reached out, as if trying to stop her from getting any closer to him, but the girl knelt down, putting her face inches away from his.

 “You had no choice.” she repeated, savoring the words. Slibhin’s head fell limp. His shoulders shook as he heaved sporadic breaths. His once captive wife had just proved his guilt. She had just sentenced him to death.

 You couldn’t help but smile when you saw him weeping. It felt like this was your reward for enduring his utter bullshit for as long as you had. You could only imagine how Sigrdrífa felt. She was the one who had lived with him… or rather lived under him for so long. 

 Her beaming smile was bright enough to guide ships to shore in the dead of night… at first. You saw her eyes study him, probably mining for more of that satisfaction of seeing the boy defeated. But as the tears ran from his eyes, the snot ran from his nose, and the dribble ran from his lip, the silver girl’s expression started to change. Her eyes began to dart back and forth, trying to absorb all of the pain and anguish her husband was displaying right in front of her eyes. You could tell she was beginning to get unnerved; nervous and unsure. Then Slibhin lifted his face to meet his wife. 

 His eyes bright red, he opened his mouth to let out some kind of silent cry. You watched as he sniveled and pleaded with his body for… mercy, forgiveness, any ounce of her conscience she was willing to spare him. 

 For a moment, you let yourself believe that she would show him mercy. Instead, she turned away from him. Without a moment's hesitation. He had already used up every ounce of her kindness, her patience, and her sympathy. Her eyes instead met with the smith’s. That was where her kindness, her patience, and her sympathy lay. That was where her heart lay. In the dirt, and the dust, and the ashes.

 So, naturally, Slibhin had no other choice. 

 With his wrists still bound, he rushed forward and threw his hands over her head and yanked her close to him, effectively trapping her by her neck and pinned her on the ground. He looked Drew in the eye and he began to scream.

 “MY KING! MY KING! I GIVE YOU THE DAUGHTER OF THE TRAITOR! TAKE HER! TAKE HER AND KILL HER! CUT HER FUCKING HEAD OFF! ENSLAVE HER! RAPE HER, EVEN! DO WHAT YOU WISH! I AM YOUR LOYAL SERVANT! JUST TAKE THE BITCH AND LET ME LIVE! I LOVE SCOTLAND! I LOVE MY KING! PLEASE-”

 Breun lunged herself across the ground and struck Slibhin. You knew he would never speak again. His jaw went sideways and blood poured out of his mouth. His teeth fell and skittered across the soot. The noise he made was primeval. If an animal had made that same sound, even the cruelest of men would concede and put it out of its misery. His body squirmed and twitched. Sigrdrífa was finally able to break free of his hold, though she was covered in his blood and scratched by his flailing. Breun was hurt in her own right, obviously.

 It was funny. At the very beginning of this entire ordeal, the very sight of what was in front of you would have left you petrified.

 Instead, you snapped your fingers and motioned for the boy to be restrained. And restrained he was. Though the shrieking and gurgling didn’t stop. Slibhin looked at you and tried to speak, but that was quite impossible. You looked down at Sigrdrífa. She had crawled her way over to Breun, draping herself over the bigger woman with her mouth to her ear, whispering something that didn’t concern you.

 “Guards!” At least a dozen men in armor presented themselves before you. “Take this boy to the dungeons. Put him with our other prisoners… and make sure that they know everything that he has said about their little sister.”

 Your men smiled at you, showing that they would be happy to carry out your order. They marched the prisoner off as he shrieked and wailed indistinct sounds of agony, defeat, and fear of what was still to come. You were done with him.

 Turning now to Breun and Sigrdrífa, you saw the smaller one look up at you. Just as you went to take a breath to speak, she spoke your previous words back to  you.

 “‘Make sure that they know everything he has said about… their little sister?’”

 That struck you. All this time, she probably didn’t know if her brothers were alive. If her father was killed in battle, it would be logical to assume that her brothers did as well. Her brothers to whom she owed her life. You smiled and nodded your head.

 Sigrdrífa’s voice was barely above a whisper, but you clearly made out the names of her two brothers.

 “Erik... Ivar…”

 The peace was interrupted by Breun’s grumbling. She lifted her head from the dirt to look at you, but her eyes couldn’t focus. Her face was bright red and beads of sweat littered her face. You turned to your soldiers and opened your mouth to issue the command...

 “FOR PITY’S SAKE SOMEONE TAKE THE GIRL INSIDE! AND FETCH A HEALER DAMMIT!”

 Your jaw stayed wide as you turned your head to your husband, who was still lying in the dirt, but whose voice still commanded respect. His eyes were fixated on the smith. Men scrambled to pick up a nearly incapacitated Breun, which proved to be quite the challenge as the smith seemed to think that everyone that was trying to move her was, in fact, challenging her to a fistfight. A servant ran down the road to find a healer that could not only treat the girl, but possibly survive her left hook as well.

 Luckily for every man in Scotland, Sigrdrífa was able to calm the rowdy young lady enough so that she could be moved into the house. As she herself was about to walk through the front door, she stopped and looked back at you. Though she still had blood stained in her hair and on her clothing, and the exhaustion in her eyes matched the shaking of her legs, she looked more calm and content than ten thousand queens. She nodded to you, a gesture of comradery and of finality before shutting the door, not even giving you a chance to respond.

Drew had been much more lucid than his female counterpart and was rushed back to the keep quickly and quietly. He wouldn't look anyone in the eye and said nothing to anybody. The servants had the sense to go about their duties and disregarded their King. By now you had reached your shared chambers. The guards gently set Drew in your bed as you stood by the fireplace, next to a tub of water that you had requested be filled. You needed a bath. Drew grumbled and winced, ashamed that you could see him like this. One man even attempted to cover the King in a blanket, but was stopped when Drew looked at him with a scowl so deep, you were certain his face would stay like that forever. Drew wasn’t one to be coddled.

 The servants bowed their heads to you as they backed out of the room. You heard one mutter to you, “Let us know if you need us,” before he shut the door behind him, leaving you alone with your husband.

 Drew didn’t say anything to you, nor you to him. He looked straight up at the canopy of your bed, as if seeing through it to the ceiling. You let yourself sigh. Your husband’s eyes flickered at the sound, but he did not look at you. You couldn’t blame him, but it still angered you. You had just spent the past two days dealing with an immature brute, and you didn’t know if you could handle another one.

 First thing was first, you were going to get into that tub. Instinctively, you opened your mouth to call for your husband, asking him to help you with the laces of your dress. No sound escaped your throat, but you felt stupid all the same. Reaching behind you, you were thankful that you had torn a fair amount of the garment, but you still struggled to get a feel for what you were supposed to do. You let out a grunt of frustration as your fingers frantically picked at the back of your dress, not making any progress. Drew looked at you, and your eyes met his. He was trying not to betray his feelings through any facial expression, but you could tell that he was embarrassed. Embarrassed that he could not help you with something that he did every night. 

 You felt embarrassed too. Embarrassed that you were unable to do such a simple task by yourself. Though you always loved it when Drew undressed you before, now you resented your helplessness and cursed all the times you didn’t just undress yourself, like an actual self-sufficient person.

 Rage bubbled inside you at the thought of your dependence on Drew. Out of nowhere, you screeched like a banshee and tore your dress clean from your skin. Standing there, completely naked in front of your husband, and not feeling shy or giddy was a new experience for you. You took the rags left of the dress and threw it into the fireplace. The heavy cloth covered the flames and greatly dimmed the room, but you could still see your husband’s eyes fixed on you. 

 Half wanting to cover yourself for modesty, half wanting to punish Drew by not having him see you, you quickly hopped into the tub. The servants had left a scrubbing brush and some soap for you, but you didn’t even think about using them. You just wanted to sit and brood. You were so exhausted that you were certain the warm water would lull you to sleep before you even attempted to clean yourself. If you did fall asleep in the tub, and your head went underwater, you guessed that Drew wouldn’t even be able to save you in time.

 “My Queen.” 

 You had no desire to look at him, but your head turned toward him nonetheless. You couldn’t will your lips to curl into a smile, which you usually did when you looked at your husband. His body was so bruised and battered that you couldn’t look anywhere but his eyes, but that was no better as they were red and tired, threatening tears. His Adam’s apple was quivering. His lips were slightly parted. His voice barely a whisper.

 “Forgive me.”

 And you forgave him.

 Right then and there, you forgave him. Every single sin he had committed in your eyes: the arguing, the fighting, the brutishness, leaving you behind, failing to win. Everything was absolved. You kicked yourself mentally for not being able to hold a grudge, even for just one evening. However, you were saved by the fact that your face was too exhausted to change from the mask of apathy and disregard that you wore. To Drew, you were still his scowling, disappointed Queen.

 Some Queen I am. Sitting hunched naked in a tub, covered in filth. Bitter and defeated. I’ve never felt LESS like a Queen. I don’t feel like the wife of a King. I don’t even feel like a wife. I don’t even feel like a woman…

 You looked down. Through the muddy water you were able to see your body. Bruises and scratches and scrapes covered it. Your skin was pasty and shriveled.  In certain areas, it was rubbed raw from friction with the tighter parts of your dress. Any little touch on any little bit of your body would only hurt you. But you wanted to be touched. You didn’t care how much it would bring you pain. You wanted to be touched by Drew. To be held by Drew. To be loved by Drew. To be fucked-

 The fireplace roared back to life as the flames finally caught hold of your discarded dress, engulfing it. The room brightened as if it were almost day. You looked at Drew. His eyes were squinted, as he couldn’t even lift his hands up to shield his eyes.

 So you did it for him.

 You rose from the tub, your shadow completely covering Drew. His eyes popped open and he looked at you. You swore you could almost feel the air move as he gasped, taking in your form.

 “You told me… that despite how beaten down you were… you still had the strength to take me… to ravage me… You told me you still had the endurance to turn me into a… a whimpering mess.”

 You tried to keep your voice even and cold. Drew held you with his eyes and for a moment you were excited. You saw his muscles tense up as he attempted to lean forward. Your body shivered from the night air and from anticipation. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, your body’s memory reliving all the times Drew would pick you up and throw you on your shared bed, giving you the love from a wounded warrior, whose heart still beat with hot blood.

 “My Queen…” You opened your eyes again to see Drew with his head back on the pillows, his muscles shaking, his chest heaving from his panting. He ever so slowly was able to bring his head back up enough to look at you. “I… I can’t.” His lip was quivering and his eyelids were fluttering. The fireplace dimmed once more as the flames had eaten up the rest of your dress, leaving a small glow of singed fabric behind. Your body stopped shivering in the cold air. It stopped feeling cold. It stopped feeling anything. You stood there in the tub with your mouth slightly open and your eyebrows raised in confusion and sadness. 

 Of course he wouldn’t be able to take you. You were stupid to even think that he could. You were cruel to ask him to try. And he did try. After everything he had gone through, he still wanted to try and please you. You mentally kicked yourself for trying to get him to exhaust himself further. 

 Then, you heard… breathing. You couldn’t really describe it. It wasn’t whimpering, and it wasn’t sobbing. Just a strange kind of breathing. You turned again to Drew who had his jaw and his eyes clenched tight. He looked so helpless. 

 You moved to him. You couldn't even feel yourself walking. You were gliding. Before you knew it you were crawling over the sheets of your bed, staining them with the grime that rubbed off your body. 

 When you were next to him on the bed, he tried to turn his neck and look at you, but he winced. You kissed cheek and whispered to him. “Just lay with me, my love.”

 You lay your head on his heart, mindful of his wincing as you brushed by the bruises on his chest. Your eyelids grew heavy as you listened to the rhythm of Drew’s heartbeat. Through your lashes you saw your husband fight to keep his eyes open, just to look at you. You turned and wrapped your two small arms around one of his massive ones and heaved it so it lay over you. So he was holding you. Drew sighed contently. The very next sounds that came from him soft snores as you yourself felt all the pain of the last three days melt away. 

 Then you slept.

I am so very honored and so awed that someone dedicated their time to create a fanfic for my fanfic universe....that’s.....that’s so beyond incredible and I haven’t been able to wrap my mind around it. This tribute fic was absolutely amazing. I legit read this fic until 3 am when I was given it. I couldn’t stop reading it and I loved every small detail and the story telling. Thank you again, @tinkerbell-has-chlamydia​​ for this fic. Truly. Thank you so much. I’m so honored you adored my fics enough to write this. From the bottom of my heart; THANK YOU. ~Bri 💛🖤 (Again this fic is NOT MINE. I was given permission to post it here and place it on my masterlist)

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[yandere-daydreams]

bastard boi Dabi dancing with his darling in the kitchen, pretending they're a perfect couple, but ih look his darling actually has difficulty keeping up with the dance since they have a chain on their ankle and are still hurting from yesterday

He gets to be soft one (1) time before I revoke every single one of his rights again. Consider this Dabi the only good Dabi I will ever admit exists.

TW: Physical Abuse, Implied Past Trauma, and Mentions of Kidnapping.

~

“Come out, if you’re gonna keep starin’ like that.”

You went stiff, swearing under your breath as you processed what he’d said. You’d crawled out of your room as soon as you heard the music, a break from the silence that normally permeated the apartment, aiming to find the source without drawing unwanted attention. You’d succeeded in one part of that goal, locating the old-fashioned radio that currently looked terribly out of place on an otherwise empty counter, but failed miserably at staying unnoticed. Dabi’s smugness was nearly tangible from another room. It always was when he caught you sneaking around. 

He’d always had a knack for that. Catching you, regardless of how badly you wanted to evade him.

Tracking you down like a mouse about to be sliced open and gutted in the claws of a confident, smirking cat.

“You didn’t leave the chain on,” You started, taking control of the conversation rather than denying his accusation. Dabi still laughed, his grin wide enough to reach the staples bordering his mouth. He was leaning casually against one wall, arms crossed and jacket nowhere in sight, his posture as carefree and open as the window he’d left ajar. Another odd sign, another bad sign. Every entrance and exit was usually locked up with every ‘security measure’ Dabi could think of, regardless of how easily he could drag you back into captivity. “The chain never comes off,” You insisted, taking another step towards him. “Not unless you’re–”

“Not unless I’m in a good mood,” He finished, his interpretation differing slightly from your own. “It’s been a good day, and being the considerate boyfriend I am, I thought I’d brighten yours. It’s sweet as hell, yeah?”

You opened your mouth, preparing to tell him off or assert that he was never in a good mood, but Dabi didn’t let you, reaching out to grab your hand the moment you made yourself vulnerable. It took you a second to realize what he was trying to do, but the music was so much slower than what he usually listened to, so much more melodic, it really shouldn’t have taken any thought. His arms found their way to your waist swiftly, and yours to his biceps, all-but clinging to his short sleeves. Walking had been a nightmare on its own, and even with Dabi guiding you, each step still felt like another white-hot nail being driven into the sole of your foot.

Yesterday’s punishment was still fresh, the burns still healing and bedrest still very much necessary. You considered voicing your displeasure, pulling away and making it clear you couldn’t do whatever Dabi wanted, but another glance towards his giddy expression and those lovestruck eyes dissuaded you from doing so.

He already knew this would hurt you. It was why he’d left your restraints off all day, so he’d feel justified when he wanted to have his fun. 

Dabi always tried to be fair, after all.

“My parents used to do stuff like this all the time,” He mumbled, his voice barely audible. If you hadn’t been so close, you wouldn’t have heard him at all, but you doubted a lack of response would’ve done anything to hinder Dabi. “When it was just me and my sister, I mean. It was always after they thought the rest of us were asleep.” His smile softened, the change accompanied by a peck to the top of your head. “They caught us the first time, and Enji threw one of his fits before Ma’ rushed us back into our rooms. We got better at sneaking around, after that.”

You thought, attempting to put together the bits and pieces about his childhood he’d already given you. It was a difficult task, the timeline often overlapping or contradicting itself, but you weren’t sure how devoted you were supposed to be to your captor’s trauma. “Was this before or after the corporal discipline?”

He spun you, letting you stumble in a sloppy circle before falling back into his hold. Dabi chuckled. You grit your teeth. “Before, I think. I didn’t start keeping track until he was the one burning me.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, but the sound was shaky, trembling more than you meant it to. Your legs weren’t doing much better, crying for you to sit down, but your focus remained on keeping up with Dabi’s slow, predictable steps. Luckily, he seemed to notice your on-going strain, taking on a little more of your weight as a strip of white gauze fell from your ankle. 

“They always looked so happy. That was the weirdest part.” He pulled you closer absentmindedly, curious fingertips beginning to rub over your midriff. “They hated each other so much towards the end, but then they’d have a glass of wine and stop talking and look so happy. It was like they could tolerate each other, for a night.” He let out a heavy sigh, the exhale followed by another spin, this one ending with your back slotted against his chest, Dabi’s chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’d look at them and think they loved each other. Really loved each other. Even if you saw all the bad shit, too.”

At this, your gaze shifted, moving over him briefly. “And…” You started, trailing off quickly. Dabi didn’t bat an eye when you spat insults at him or flinch when you threatened to do something vile to his anatomy, but this felt like new territory. More vulnerable territory, an expanse you weren’t sure you wanted to venture into. But, Dabi squeezed your waist encouragingly, kissing the crook of your neck, and you decided you didn’t have much of a choice. “And you think that’s going to be us?”

He stopped moving. You paused too, turning slightly to ask what was wrong, but all you managed to get out was a cracked scream as his the toe of a steel-plated combat boot dug into the back of your ankle, separating charred skin from muscle as elegantly as a butcher separating meat from bone. Blood soaked into your remaining bandages, but you didn’t have time to worry about that. The overpowering, overwhelming burning was all you could feel, the pain making it impossible to think about anything else.

You collapsed instantly, falling to your knees and curling into yourself, Dabi circling your crumpled form without a trace of urgency. You didn’t look up as he crouched, his hand coming up to cup your jaw and tilt your head back, the tears now openly flowing down your cheeks only earning a half-hearted click of his tongue and a swipe of his thumb, Dabi’s efforts somehow doing little to comfort you. Holding back wasn’t an option, not anymore, spurring you to bury your face in his shirt as soon as he was close enough. If he was bothered by your sobbing, he didn’t show it, only starting to comb out your hair as he spoke.

“We’re nothing like them. We aren’t right now, and we never will be. Understand?” He didn’t give you time to answer, digging his nails into your scalp and jerking your head back, forcing you to meet his eyes when you failed to do so on your own. “Do you understand?”

You nodded, the action as instinctual as it was violent, and Dabi let you go, allowing you to break down properly. You cried your heart out, feverishly trying to wipe your tears away and pull yourself together, but Dabi just watched on. He waited until you had quieted down to cut in, and even then, he couldn’t bring himself to sound very concerned. 

“We should get you back to your room,” He said, standing. He didn’t move to help you up. “I don’t think I’m feelin’ as lenient as I was, dollface.”

[jacksjoke]

Title: rain comes and goes

Pairing: Tops/Win

Prompt: “I want to fall asleep with you.” (x)

Ao3 link

    It’s only six months. Tops knows it’s only six months. And in the grand scheme of things, six months is really no time at all when you think about it, not where they’re concerned. In Tops’ mind there’s no question that, against all odds, he and Win will come out the other side of this separation even closer than they’d been while Win was still here.

    But knowing something when he’s feeling reasonable doesn’t do Tops much good when the fact remains: Win isn’t here. He figures that it may have been easier if they hadn’t already been sharing an apartment, because at least then there would perhaps be more of a line between their lives. Instead, everything in Tops’ eyeline tends to be a reminder of the person he’s missing. He doesn’t like to hang around the living room because he’ll just think about Win rocking his baby brother, Thunder, to sleep. Puttering about the kitchen reminds Tops of all the meals and treats he’d prepared for Win, which inevitably leads him to fret over whether Win’s eaten something that day. Reading in his own room is just as lonely as anywhere else in the house because this is where he’d slept with Win, sleepovers common even before they were anything more than friends.

    He’s gotten into the habit of spending time in the room that had been Win’s, the floral wallpaper a sight that still brings a smile to Tops’ face, and will often sleep in there to avoid a bed he’d gotten used to sharing with his boyfriend. It’s hardly past 10 but Tops is already worn out because, to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t get quality rest without Win there beside him. Some nights are better than others, and the prior one had found Tops up four times at scattered hours. He always sleeps better on the nights he’s able to talk to Win first, so it’s a no-brainer for Tops to reach out now.

    The video-call is answered within four rings, Win’s smile filling the screen. “My Top Chef,” he says immediately, coated in fondness. Off-screen, someone asks who he’s got on the line and Win replies in English, with just as much adoration, “My boyfriend. I gotta take this.” Tops waits as Win disappears from the room he’d been in previously to duck into a hallway, where it’s quieter. “Tops,” he says again. “What’s up?”

    “Nothing. I don’t want to bother you, if you’re — ”

    Win makes a face, dismissing Tops’ words right away. “Tops, don’t even,” he says. His grin softens as he looks at Tops. “How are you? Tell me what’s been going on.”

    “We talked yesterday morning; what could happen between then and now?”

    “I like to hear about your day, even if it’s the usual,” Win insists. He adds, teasing, “I’m a little obsessed with you, in case you forgot since ‘yesterday.’”

    Tops knows he’s blushing but doesn’t care. “Nothing’s happened here,” he repeats. “What’d you eat today?”

    “Three bacon-burgers with fries, plus an entire shaker of salt for taste.”

    “Win.”

    “It’s barely 11 am!” Win points out. “We hit up a diner for pancakes and haven’t decided on lunch yet. Wait, you got my message yesterday, right? At lunch?”

    “The pizza,” Tops recalls. He’d saved the photo Win had sent of himself to his phone. Win had been smiling wide with the pizza he’d put together of Tops’ own recipe from the channel. “I can’t believe you actually made it.”

    “I told you I would! Steven and Cris said it was phenomenal, thanks very much, so you’d better hold on to your title of Top Chef if you don't want me swiping it.”

    “I’m shaking,” Tops says, his voice flat, and Win laughs at him.

    “Did you just call to ask if I ate?” he questions Tops.

    “I have to,” Tops says. “You know how you get; you sit down to write and fixate for hours without moving. There were times I’ve had to hide your guitar to get you to even sit for a meal, remember? I’m not taking any chances.”

    “What a considerate boyfriend I have,” Win coos, making Tops redden and shake his head. “What about you? It’s late for you now; what’d you eat?”

    “I wasn’t really hungry,” Tops says, which is the truth. He’d been rather tired all day because of not sleeping well before, but is aware more than most how important the food you put into your body is to a healthy life, so he’d basically forced himself to prepare dinner. All he’d rustled up for himself was an egg atop rice, pretty delicious and better than eating nothing, after all.

    Immediately, Tops can see the crease appear between Win’s eyebrows. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks. “You aren’t sick again, right?”

    “No,” Tops assures him. “All good. Just tired.”

    “Tops, go to sleep.”

    “Yeah, I just…” He shrugs. “I want to fall asleep with you. You know how it is.”

    Win’s eyes search Tops’ features through the screen. “Yeah. Look, I can grab my guitar right now and play something for you quick, help you fall asleep. How’s that sound?”

    A small smile blooms on Tops’ lips, he can’t help it. “I mean, if it’s really okay,” and Win is already halfway back to the small room he’d left behind.

    “Tops! I’d play for you in the middle of a — fuckin’ tsuname, if you asked me to,” he says, stepping once again into the hall. “Don’t sweat it, for real.” He settles onto the floor this time to keep a grip on the guitar, his phone propped before him on the tile.

    Because it’s their song he strums a bit of ‘Moment,’ humming softly the words he’d written with Tops at his side, and Tops pulls the blanket up close to his chin to watch him with soft eyes. Win looks up from his strings to glance at Tops with a grin that Tops is already missing, even while it’s in front of him.

    “Hey, you’re drifting on me,” Win’s voice nudges Tops’ eyes open, and he realises he’d been nodding off.

    “Sorry.”

    “The point of this was to help you sleep,” Win laughs quietly. “So just rest. Talk when you wake up? Breakfast chat?”

    “Dinner for you,” Tops points out.

    “Perfect, you can nag me about what I’m eating,” Win says, joking. “Go to sleep, Tops. Love you love you.”

    “Love you love you,” Tops returns as he always does, this time around a little yawn. Win’s smile widens as he shakes his head, ending the call. Tops is dreaming within seconds, and he doesn’t wake up until the sun of a new day brightens the curtains.

[anastasiabeaverhousen87]

Make wise Choices Part 1:

Hold me (baby Danvers)

Never have I ever written something in my life (except for Christmas cards for Santa when I was a kid or you know the regular affidavit when I lose a ticket for my expenses report from work, and that should count like poetry itself 🤓)

Anyways after reading for a while in different platforms I became quite curious about writing something myself. I noticed a lot of Baby Danvers fics and developed a sort of attachment to the concept of a third sister. Also I’m a sucker for fluff and sick fics. Even though I do have a dark side I wanted to try something tame first.

I have no idea if its any good and also take into consideration English is not my native language, I’m sleep deprived and using an iPhone because I’m too lazy to get my laptop and it’s like 3 am and I’m supposed to be at work in 3 hours LOL 😂

Without further ado I leave you my first story with baby danvers going through some painful wisdom teeth surgery recovery (so not an original idea but this actually happened to me and I can relate, impacted teeth sucks big time )

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PART 1

You had to get your wisdom teeth removed and you knew it was perfectly normal to experience some anxiety prior the procedure. In your case, your anxiety levels were through the roof. Your sisters knew this and of course they wanted to be there for you, and you couldn’t be more grateful for that; However, you were very nervous. Because of your anxiety you had to be sedated for the procedure and the effects very rough on you. You felt just awful and very loopy. Kara had to carry you from the dentist office to the car and up to her apartment. You were practically a rag doll in her arms, drooling saliva and blood on her sweater, because of course you were disgusted by the gauze and you took it out. Kara didn’t mind that at all, she felt bad you were feeling poorly after your surgery. You just cling to her like a koala and nuzzle your face in the crook of her neck.

Kara: “Careful there little one, don’t press your cheek into me so hard or you will hurt yourself” - Your sisters felt awful to see you like this, but you knew they were going to care for you during the following days after the procedure. Even thought you are a big baby when it comes to pain and doctors, the procedure was indeed very difficult, your teeth were impacted and required surgical extraction.

You just grunted in response and kept rubbing your face into your sister’s neck and shoulder. Until you did it too hard and felt a sharp pain in your mouth. Y/N: “Ow Ow Owie!” -You cried out and tried to move into a more comfortable position in her arms, you felt exhausted and wanted to sleep, but due to the weird feeling in your mouth and the odd sensations due to the medication you couldn’t quite find a proper spot to feel comfortable.

Alex: “Come one Y/N, don’t press your face like that and just hold on a few more minutes, we are almost home, and you can take your pain meds and sleep for a while. Don’t fall asleep before that, just hang on a little longer baby”

The three of you were in the elevator waiting to reach the apartment your shared with Kara.

Y/N: “Nooooo! I want to sleep now and eat a corn dog” – once again you rubbed your face into Kara and again, it hurt. – Ow Ow Ow!” You cried once again and tried to pout miserably, feeling just bad. You had tears in your eyes and you just looked like an overtired toddler with your big hazel teary eyes and rosy cheeks.

Alex: “Damn it Y/N, be careful you’re going to reopen the stitches and we will need to take you back to the dentist so she can patch you up. And no, you can’t have a corn dog just yet. It will hurt trying to eat something hot and solid”

Apparently, that was the worst thing to say because you just looked at her with big scared and hurt eyes and started to cry. – Y/N: “I’m sorry, but I just feel so awful and can’t get comfortable I just want to sleep. This suck! Dentists sucks, stupid wisdom teeth and stupid stitches! And I really want a corn dog Alex, pleeeease!!!!” - Moving your mouth to complain and speak your discontent made your incisions to bleed more and that of course made you cry more.

Y/N: “ugh blood taste awful!” – Kara tried to adjust you into a more comfortable position in her arms and rubbing your back in a soothing way to calm you down.  While Alex tried to clean the slobber and blood from your lips and Kara’s shoulder with a handkerchief. Both gave you a sad smile and just felt sorry for you. You were clearly in pain and felt just awful.

Alex: “Oh sweety please don’t cry, we’re almost there. Damn elevator it´s taking forever!” – she gave a frustrated sigh while trying to keep you from falling asleep and avoided mentioning the corn dog in order to make you forget about eating one.

Kara: “I know, I think there’s something wrong it, but we are almost there. Shhh… little one, we are almost there, and you can rest after your taken your meds. Ok?, Lena is waiting for us already with lots of cold juice and ice cream so you can feel better pretty soon”

You perked up at the mention of the green-eyed woman. Y/N: you sniffled and asked your sister- “Lena is here?”– It was no surprise for the Danver sisters that at the mention of the younger Luthor you would cheer up. You were very loved by your sisters and their friends, but it was no secret that you had the young CEO wrapped around your little finger. Lena was your sister Kara’s girlfriend, but she was enamored with you and she was very protective of you as well. She is like a hero to you; you admire and look up to her so much. Not that your sisters weren’t amazing as well, but the relationship you have with Lena is very special and strong.  She is always pampering you and spoils you rotten. You never take advantage of the way Lena is with you and her affection. You are not a brat, you are a very easy-going person, a ray of sunshine and everyone was smitten with you. But when your feeling down or sick you get cranky and you can be a little annoying. You know that, but you feel no shame whatsoever.

Kara: “Yes! She is waiting at the apartment and she said she was going to be prepared with lots of yummy things you can drink, and some things you can eat. We can watch movies after you rest for a bit if you want. What do you say?” – your bubbly blonde sister said while stroking you back and trying to make you stay alert for a bit more until you reached the apartment.

Y/N : You just gave her a tired smile and rubbed at your eyes with a fist and said- “Ok, that sounds nice.”

The elevator dinged and the door opened in the hallway. Alex and Kara, with you in her arms, stepped out of the elevator and walked to the apartment door. Lena was already waiting at the door with a big smile on her face, however she frowned a little when she saw your pained face and teary eyes. Your cheeks were starting to swell, and she knew the first couple of days were rough after that specific dental procedure. She also hated to see you in pain, so she just holds the door wide open to let Alex and Kara walk into the apartment.

Lena: “hi sweet girl”- she presses a kiss to your forehead while greeting Kara and Alex as well. She gave Kara a peck in the lips and asked her to put you in the couch. She walks to the kitchen to grab a bowl with cold water and a cloth to help reduce the swelling to your cheeks while Alex read trough the indications given by your doctor and sort your meds at the table.

Meanwhile Kara tries to lay you down on the couch, but you refused to let go of her and you just cling harder with your arms circling her neck and your legs into her hips. Kara just chuckles and rubs your back: “come on little one, let me set you down on the couch, you will  be more comfortable laying down and I’m just going to bring your blanket and some pillows and bring a pair of comfy pajamas so you can be more comfortable.”

But you, feeling poorly and cranky, shed some tears and asked to be held by your sister. You just felt so clingy. Y/N: “Noo… please Kara don’t go. Just stay with me I don’t need a blanket or pajamas.”

You were beyond exhausted and being up since early in the morning and since you didn’t get that much the sleep night before, you were just so nervous about the whole thing. Now that it was over, you felt all your energy drained, and in addition the pain meds were staring to wear off and that made you feel even worse.

Alex: “Sit down with her Kara, I’ll bring the blanket pillows and pajamas. Let me just grab the meds, and hey Lena can you bring a glass of water and – oh you already have a bowl of water and cloth that’s perfect, thank you. Go and sit down with Kara and set those on the coffee table. I´ll just change real  quick and we can give Y/N the meds and make her more comfortable so she can take a nap.”

Lena just nods and walks to the couch carrying the tray with a bowl with cold water, a few clean hand towels and a glass of water with your meds on it. She set the tray on the coffee table and takes one of the smalls towels and dips it into the cold water in the bowl to make a cold compress for your cheeks. She then turns to Kara and speaks softly to you.

Lena: “Y/N is it okay if I hold you for a little while so Kara can go change into more comfy clothes? What do you say, want me to sit with you for a bit?” - she gives you a big smile and you just nod and make grabby hands toward her. Kara chuckles once again at your antics and transfers you to Lena’s lap making sure you are settled alright and gives you a kiss to your forehead.

Kara: “I’ll be right back”- you just hum in approval and rest you head into Lena’s shoulder while the green eyed woman smiles down at you and brings the cool towel to your fast swelling hot cheek to make you feel better.

Y/N: “That feels nice”- you say in a sleepy voice while clinging to Lena.

Lena: “This will help with the swelling, I’m sorry you feel so poorly sweet girl. But don’t worry we are going to make sure you are comfortable, and you can take a nap after you take your pain meds. Look, Alex is here, come one just sit a little bit so you can take the pill.  Alex walks into the living room carrying several items in her arms.”

Alex: “Y/N come on kiddo I have your comfy jammies. Please sit for a bit for me baby.”  You sit with your back to Lena’s front and you hold your arms up while Alex works fast removing your current top and bra and pulls the button-up pajama top on you, while Lena keeps a hold of you supporting your hips and shoulder so you don’t fall from her lap. Next are your jeans, you let yourself fall backwards into Lena and she just chuckles and holds you close so you don’t slide down to the floor while Alex works on removing your jeans and putting the pajama short on you. Once you are  in your pajama set, Alex smiles at you and helps you try to lay in the couch, but once again you refuse and you move sideways on Lena’s lap so you face is nuzzled on her upper chest and sitting on her lap with your legs in the couch. Alex is about to try and make you move, but Lena just holds up her hand: “Its fine Alex, she is not heavy I can hold her and once she is asleep, we can move her to the couch or switch turns, because I think someone is  going to be very clingy for the next couple of days.”-  She says while looking down at you and giving you a soft smile.

Alex sighs but knows what you are saying its true, when you don’t feel good you turn into a koala bear and refuse to let go from your sisters or Lena’s arms. But you’ve been like this since you were little,       and your sisters love to provide any comfort you need. And right now, you want to be cuddled and sleep. So, Alex gives you a nudge and brings a small pill to your lips and hold a glass of water so you can swallow the medication. Alex: “Good job baby, now close your eyes and rest for a bit.”  

You let you head fall back into Lena and close your eyes mumbling something about corn dogs being soft. Alex smiles down at you while giving Lena the cool towel so she can press it down to your cheek and walks to the kitchen with the tray and to  figure out diner for Kara, Lena and herself and something soft and easy to drink for you. You won’t be able to eat anything solid for a few days, so that’s going to be a challenge. You love food as much as your alien sister. You don’t really like bland food nor drinking smoothies but that’s a fight for after you wake up from your nap. To say you are going to be an unhappy and very grumpy camper it’s the understatement of the century.

Kara took the opportunity to take a quick shower and walks into the living room in sweatpants and a lose top.  She smiles when she notices that you’re almost asleep with a small smile on your face while resting on top of her girlfriend. She spots your favorite blanket next to Lena in the couch, she drapes it over you and Lena and presses a quick kiss to your forehead and a kiss to Lena. Kara sits next to the both of you while surfing for something to watch on Netflix while Alex is busy in the kitchen. Lena is watching you fall asleep and still holding the cool rag to your cheek. After few minutes you are completely passed out and a little bit of drool and blood starts to spill from your lips.

Lena: “Kara, honey can you pass me one of those clean towels on the coffee table, please? Kara notices the little bit of blood and takes the clean small white towel and tenderly cleans your lips and chin. Kara takes away the other wet towel Lena was using for your cheek and leaves the new one so Lena can put it in between her shoulder and your chin. You sleep peacefully while being hold be Lena and Kara in the couch. Alex finally returns to the living room announcing she made diner, actually she made a phone call to order take out because she didn’t feel like cooking or cleaning dishes. She brings refreshments for everyone, a glass of wine for Lena, a glass of chocolate milk for Kara and a beer for her. She also brings a sports bottle with juice and ice, the ones that have a little rubber tip so you can drink easily and can keep the liquid cold. So once you´re awake you can drink something cool and remove the taste of blood from your mouth.

Yes, the next couple of day are going to be a little hard on you, but you have your sisters and Lena to keep you comfortable and dot on you while you recover.

 Next chapter: Y/N wakes up from her nap. And so, it begins…

[bnhablessings]

Comfort/fluff Headcanons or scenarios for Present Mic, All Might and Eraserhead reacting to their insecure s/o wanting to get married? Like s/o has been acting off and distancing their self because they don't feel worthy? Thanks if you do🥺💖

I adored this request with my ENTIRE being. (I ended up doing both headcanons and scenarios lol) I love them and I hope you think they are comfy/fluffy enough! It’s been a while since I wrote about the three men and I love them.

All three of them would love to show you how much you mean to them in a nsfw way ; )

All Might, Eraserhead, Present Mic x Reader (GN/NB)

Warnings: Angsty for a hot second, fluff, the reader is insecure, Present Mic’s so the most angsty one omg.

Words: 2,133

Aizawa Shouta (Eraserhead)-

Chances are if you are starting to think about marriage, he is too

He is very observant so he’ll notice the change in your behavior immediately

He won’t do anything about it for a while because he will be a smidge confused at first but once he realizes what is going on he will bring it up as soon as possible to get the problem over and dealt with

If he suspects you’re being insecure about yourself, he will be more loving towards you

Aizawa doesn’t know how long he can pretend everything is fine. He knows it’s not. You’ve been acting strange and the worst part is you haven’t been opening up to him. It’s killing him and making him more moody than usual. Thankfully, he got off his patrol early tonight to come home to you.

As soon as he enters the shared apartment you live in, he takes note the kitchen light is on and you are passed out on the couch. The sight makes his heart hurt. You are curled up in a ball covered in a blanket. It’s obvious you fell asleep crying from how puffy you are eyes seem to be. He sighs and goes to fix the blanket when he notices a picture under the blanket being held to your chest with your other hand.

With a gentle touch, he pulls it from your grip and stares at it with a smile. It is a picture of when the two of you started dating. A shaky breath leaves you and he decides now is a good time as any to talk. He places the picture on the coffee table nearby and lifts you and the blanket gently up so he can scoot behind you and hold you.

You let out a sleepy hum before you wake up fully upon realizing that Aizawa is back. You go to sit up and move but he holds a tight grip on your waist.

“Stay. It’s been a while since we were last like this,” He mumbles.

His voice sounds so tired and you feel guilty immediately. However, the warmth he provides to your back makes you give in. You snuggle as close as you can to him and he lets out a content sigh. The air feels slightly melancholy but he is sure to fix it.

He might as well just come outright and say it.

“I want to marry you.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches. He can feel the slight trembling in your body as you try not to cry.

“Do you not want to marry me?” The question has no emotion to it. He’s just trying to figure out why this topic is making you this way.

You struggle to turn and he helps you so you are both face-to-face. He knows you are vulnerable right now so he is careful with you. You are after all his precious person. He cups your face and you lean into his warm hand.

“I know you’ve been pushing yourself away from me lately. I figured you needed space but now I know that isn’t the case. Do you wish to separate? I love you so if that is what you want to do I will take it into consideration-“

You quickly interrupt him with a panicky voice. “No! That’s not it at all! I love you more than you’ll ever know. I have been thinking of marriage too… but… You deserve someone better. After all that you do for me and others… How can I call myself your (husband/wife)? It doesn’t feel right since you deserve someone who people can approve of.”

He stares at you long and hard. He is pissed off at your thoughts but gentle in how he reacts to them. It takes him a moment before he just places a kiss on your forehead.

“I want you. I want to marry you. I don’t care what other people think and you shouldn’t either. You are everything I want and you make me a better person. I want no one else but you. Just take some time and think about it. We’ll talk more when you feel better but (Name)… I want you.”

He’s not much of a talker but you needed to hear it from him. You need to know how much you mean to him and how happy he would be just to have you married to him.

Yagi Toshinori (All Might)-

If you are in a relationship with Toshi, it’s probably been a really long time and he’s been thinking about marriage as well

HOWEVER, he will be just as insecure as you are

He will distance himself to with work or even bring it up to you how you should be with someone not as busy as him (this may change when he retires)

He’ll play the same card you play: that you deserve to be with someone better

 “(Name), what’s been going on with you lately?” Toshi decides to ask after seeing you look so down watching your favorite show.

It leaves him a bit nervous but he wants to talk to you. He hasn’t been feeling so well with the current idea that’s been lingering in his head. With his own odd behavior, he has barely noticed yours but still has. He was going to push you away further but the thought nearly killed him.

How could he do that to the person he loves most?

You seem to hesitate before you decide to be honest. “I… Think we need to separate. I love you but I don’t deserve to be with you.”

It feels like he has whiplash as he stares at you with concerned eyes. Quickly, he pulls you up so you’re standing and he looks down at you before just hugging you. The panic is obvious on his face as well as the hurt from the suggestion (even though he was feeling the same way).

“Don’t say that. I am the one who doesn’t deserve to be with you. You deserve better. I love you more than you can ever know but you deserve someone who can actually make time for you and proudly show you off. I want to announce to the world that you are my (husband/wife) but I’m terrified of you turning into a big target. I wouldn’t be able to handle that.”

“I want to marry you too but… I don’t- I just don’t think I deserve you. You are so kind, loving, and patient with me. Would you really be okay with marrying me? You’d be stuck with someone who doubts themselves-“

He cuts you off with a passionate kiss this time before returning to a simple hug.

You hug him tightly as you both take a moment to relish in each other’s embrace. Finally, you speak up but in a barely audible whisper. “Are we okay then? What should we do?”

“…Well, we both love each other and from our current situation we’re both insecure, I think we should stay together. I want to stay together. We can go to therapy so we can stop our insecure thinking. I don’t know but I do know I don’t want to break up at all. I love you and I will continue to fight for us. We have time to get married so we can work on ourselves together.”

He takes a moment to just hold you and you are so thankful that you weren’t the only feeling insecure as shitty as that is. It just means you both are perfect for each other and for thinking about one another. You can both work for this and that is what you want to do because you do want to be married to him.

“You are the best thing that has happened to me. You’re the one who gets me and is patient with me. I’ll take tomorrow off so we can make up for lost time,” Toshi murmurs.

Yamada Hizashi (Present Mic)-

Zashi wouldn’t notice you distancing yourself at first

It would take a while but he will notice the moment you neglect him physically

Zashi is a very touchy and clingy person so he will notice the moment you avoid his touches and boy will be H U R T

He’ll force a smile and leave you be a for a bit but will 100% complain to Aizawa

After much-needed courage, he will ask you about it and he will probably cry tears of joy for you wanting to marry him and yell (by complete accident) that you don’t think you are worthy

 Yamada winces once more as you attempt to scoot away slowly. He’s so grateful you actually showed up to his radio show but now that you’re here it’s like you are not. You listen to his voice and the songs he puts on with a strained smile and seem so far away.

He finally decides to just put on a mix his audience will love so he can have time to sort this out here and now. He just can’t handle it. It’s been so long since you last held his hand.

“Alright listeners! I’ll see ya in a few after this break. Enjoy these AWESOME new tunes that yours truly loves!”

He puts the music on and turns to you who is already staring at him with wary eyes. His face suddenly falls and looks like a puppy that just got kicked. Your heart is doing everything it can to not fall apart at the sight.

Slowly his hand goes to reach for yours but you are quick to move it into the safety of your lap. His eyes start to get misty and he finally snaps. “I- Um… Do you want to break up with me?” The words come out choked as he tries to keep his voice from shaking.

“What?! No!”

He’s doing the opposite of what Aizawa told him to do. He’s going in and assuming shit when Aizawa said to bring this up in calmly matter. Yamada can’t help it. He feels so torn and truly unloved right now.

“Are you sure? You haven’t held my hand for days. Days! The only time we have had our sweet cuddle sess is when you are passed out. Did I do something wrong? Did I come off as annoying? Aizawa always jokes about that but I do think that is a reason why no one wants me. I love you so much but if you want to leave me I understand,” Yamada states finally letting the tears leave him.

Your heart races at his words. Emotions are high and you give in. You give in to what you truly want. Your hand reaches for his and you grasp onto it like it is your lifeline and it is in a way. He pauses at the contact before squeezing your hand and trying to keep the way your hand feels like in his to his memory.

“Zashi no. That’s not it at all, my love. I… Just… God, I can’t do this. I don’t know how to say this because it’s so embarrassing and stupid,” You mumble.

He pulls you into his chair so he can cuddle you. Your body finally touching his makes him melt and feel like home. He lets you take a moment and for once stays absolutely quiet so you can gather your thoughts. His thumb rubs circles into your hand to encourage you to speak your thoughts.

“I love you so much. I have actually been thinking about… You know… Getting married but then I started to overthink it and can you truly be happy with just me? There are plenty of other people out there and I just don’t feel like I am enough for you,” You say finally letting out a shaky breath as well.

It takes a moment before he is laughing. The laughter takes you by surprise but not as much as the way he lets go of your hand to squeeze you in a tight hug. He wipes at his eyes.

“Was that is, my honey? I love you more than the world knows. In fact, I should announce soon that you are my world! You are more than enough. You are everything I want, I promise you! I will tell you this every day until it is engraved into your mind. So please… Don’t push me away like that again. I don’t think my soul can take it!”

He doesn’t give you much of an option to reply since he has to go back on air but he does hold you like the way you both love throughout the rest of the show, reminding you that he truly does love you.

[ibijau]

part 4 of the Nomad Nie AU // On AO3

Lan Xichen spends more time with his husband

There was a deep frown on Khan Mingjue’s face as he stared down at his brother. Huaisang tried to babble a little to ease the tension, but the Khan snapped at his brother, silencing him and starting to scold him. To Lan Xichen, Mingjue looked fearsome and angry, but very quickly Huaisang relaxed totally in spite of his brother’s scowling, and even seemed to tease him a little. That seemed a very unwise move, considering what Meng Yao had said about the man’s temper, but Huaisang didn’t appear to care.

Lan Xichen, for his part, cared very much, and shivered when the Khan’s attention turned to him and said a few things to him in a milder tone than he’d used on his brother.

“Mingjue says, Zichen good here?” Huaisang helpfully translated. “Says, Huaisang not good, you tell Mingjue, Mingjue help. Make Huaisang good. Brother funny like that,” he added in a whiny tone, sticking out his tongue at Mingjue who rolled his eyes.

Surprised to hear the Khan be so considerate, Lan Xichen couldn’t help a soft gasp. So far, he’d been under the impression that Mingjue didn’t particularly like him, and was even annoyed by his brother’s caprice to marry a stranger. It could have been that Mingjue was just polite of course, or that it was customary to say these things to a new person entering the family, but Lan Xichen still felt grateful.

It was still early to have an opinion on anything, but aside from that earlier incident with the milk, and a few nasty glares thrown his way the day before, Lan Xichen found that things weren’t going too awful so far. Hopefully that would continue even after he’d lost Huaisang’s favour, as Meng Yao was so sure he would.

“I am doing quite well so far,” Lan Xichen sincerely replied. “This one humbly thanks the Khan for his consideration.” he paused, and almost laughed at the confusion on Huaisang's face. “I say thank you,” he translated. “Here is good.”

Huaisang smiled upon hearing that, and passed on the message to his brother who nodded sternly. The two brothers then started chatting. Lan Xichen tried his best to listen and see if he could understand anything. After a little bit he heard Meng Yao’s name be mentioned by Huaisang, and instantly Khan Mingjue’s attitude changed. His expression darkened, his voice rose in anger.

“Menyao,” he spat in a tone that made that name sound like an insult, before going back to scolding his brother. 

This time, Huaisang was a little less flippant about it, though he still rolled his eyes a few times. When that tirade was over, Mingjue’s attitude returned to normal. He exchanged a few more words with his brother, patted Huaisang’s shoulder right on his bruise (though he did not react), did the same to Lan Xichen, and left the ger.

As soon as they were alone Huaisang winced, and started rubbing his shoulder. He sat down still massaging the bruise, muttering under his breath.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” Lan Xichen mumbled, sitting next to him. “I didn’t mean… I was just a little scared last night. You understand? Scared? Fear?”

His hand stilling on his shoulder, Huaisang stared at him with round eyes.

“Zichen scared Huaisang?” He gasped, before bursting out in laughter when Lan Xichen meekly nodded.

For a few minutes, Huaisang kept laughing and laughing until he could hardly breathe and he was crying. Every time he seemed about to calm down he just had to look at Lan Xichen, and his hilarity would regain full strength. At first Lan Xichen was a little upset that his honesty was not treated with more seriousness, but by the time Huaisang finally calmed down for good, Lan Xichen was just worried that his husband might die from laughing too hard.

“Zichen not scared Huaisang,” Huaisang said at last, still fighting a few last giggles. “Scared Huaisang… funny. Who scared? Look!” Huaisang insisted, gesturing at himself. “What scared? Zichen strong, Zichen not scared.”

Lan Xichen’s hands clenched into fists over his knees, grasping the fabric of his robes. He supposed it was a relief that Huaisang didn’t seem aware he held power beyond physical strength, which he could have used to force others to bend to his will. A power he had already used on Lan Xichen, or else they wouldn’t be married at all, so it wasn’t unreasonable to wonder if he might do it again.

In a way, the fact that Huaisang seemed unaware might make things worse, Lan Xichen felt. If he really was just a little innocent and careless, then that made him unpredictable. Somehow, that made the bitterness of Meng Yao justified, if he had perhaps trusted too much the cheer of Huaisang, only to be hurt by the power that young man didn’t know he had.

Even right then, Huaisang seemed blissfully unaware of Lan Xichen’s mood. It ought to have been upsetting to find him so blind, but at the same time it was obvious that Huaisang meant well. Having recovered from his hilarity, he was now preparing a place for Lan Xichen to catch some more sleep, since he was supposed to be tired, and also served him something to drink before resting. It really was rather sweet, and Lan Xichen accepted it all. He drank what was offered to him, and went to lay down on the pelts, Huaisang watching him the whole time.

Maybe things would turn out fine, Lan Xichen thought while closing his eyes, as long as he remembered to be careful.

-

Lan Xichen hadn’t meant to actually fall asleep, and yet he woke up after some time had passed, hungry but better rested than before. He’d passed out so fast the night before, but he hadn’t slept very well, fearful of what might happen to him. Now though, he found himself somewhat relaxed as he opened his eyes and watched Huaisang work on some bits of leather. 

Busy and focused on a task, his husband looked a little less frivolous than he had so far. In his half asleep state, Lan Xichen even found himself thinking that Huaisang was quite handsome. He’d noticed from the start that the young man wasn’t ugly of course, but up until then, he would at best have just called him pretty, because his smile and careless attitude made him look somewhat soft. But now Lan Xichen could see there was a sharpness to his jaw, a certain shape to his cheekbone, and his eyes had sharper angles than he had thought.

Being this handsome, with such an easy-going personality, and a brother than powerful, it was really odd that Huaisang wasn’t already married. Surely someone should have laid eyes on him and decided already that he’d be a good match for them. Or if his personality was treated as a drawback, then he should still have been considered for political matches of some sorts. Lan Xichen knew that his own father and uncle had been thinking of finding him someone after this expedition, hopefully either the daughter of rich merchants to have more funds, or that of a scholar to gain some respectability. If he could be offered up for a match, then why wasn’t the brother of a Khan also thrown on the marriage market?

That trail of thought was interrupted when Huaisang, lifting his gaze from his work, noticed that Lan Xichen was awake. In a second his features lost their edge, and he rushed to bring his husband some food. This time, it was a pastry filled with meat that was just barely warm. Huaisang, through intense gesturing, apologised that it wasn’t hot anymore, but Lan Xichen enjoyed it all the same. Eating so much meat was starting to make him feel a little unwell, but hopefully he’d get used to it after a while.

While they were having lunch together, a figure appeared at the door of the ger, hovering there uncertainly until Huaisang noticed and rushed to meet Meng Yao. The young man appeared anxious, as if knew he shouldn't have been there. He only relaxed a little when he glanced over Huaisang’s shoulder and Lan Xichen smiled at him. Meng Yao immediately smiled back, until Huaisang started chattering about something, forcing Meng Yao's attention back to him. Whatever they were talking about didn't seem to please Meng Yao. A few times he mentioned Khan Mingjue, only for Huaisang to dismiss his concerns each time until Meng Yao gave in. 

"Huaisang wants me to accompany the two of you this afternoon," he explained, following Huaisang inside the ger to sit near Lan Xichen. "He wants me to act as a traductor until you learn the language, even though he knows very well that I don't have as much free time as he does."

"If it's too much of a bother, you can tell him no from me,” Lan Xichen offered.

Meng Yao shook his head, looking quite disheartened.

"Lan gongzi is kind, but it's pointless. Huaisang is the sort who can't take no for an answer, he'll just insist until he gets his way. It's fine, I'll run around so I still do my chore… and I suppose I can't complain. I certainly have missed having someone to talk to."

Lan Xichen nodded. In the midst of so much uncertainty, he remained grateful to have one person to rely on. It had to have been so hard for Meng Yao to be alone among strangers, Lan Xichen could only pity him and hope his company would make things easier in the future.

For now, it was agreed they would go out as soon as Lan Xichen was done eating, so he quickly finished his pastry, put some order to himself, and they could go out.

Huaisang, with help from Meng Yao, explained that normally, it was rare for so many clans to be gathered together like this. The reason so many people were present was to celebrate the anniversary of a great victory, many centuries before. Great games were organised every year, unless a war prevented it, and lasted for a few days. Lan Xichen had joined in near the end of that celebration, so he wouldn’t get to see a lot, at least not that time. The main events were a horse race, a wrestling competition, and an archery contest, but there were also other entertainments such as dancing, and demonstrations of tricks by the most skilled horse riders and archers.

For the race, it was too late, as it had happened on the first two days, but Huaisang promised that Lan Xichen would enjoy it next year, and he’d get to help with training the racing horses until then. It was clearly a topic that Huaisang was quite excited about, and he admitted that he’d taken part a few times when he was much younger, though he’d had to stop very early on. Lan Xichen had the distinct impression that Meng Yao rather gave up on trying to give a full translation of Huaisang’s ramblings at one point. His new friend clearly didn’t care about horses nearly as much as his husband did.

In the absence of a race, they instead went to see the wrestling competition. It was obvious that Huaisang didn’t enjoy that nearly as much as he did the race. He still did his best to explain the rules, and seemed very happy whenever Lan Xichen asked a question about what was happening.

Lan Xichen’s curiosity wasn’t just a matter of politeness. Such games were miles away from the sort of entertainments he enjoyed at home, so he wanted to understand what might be fun about them. In the end he wasn’t sure he enjoyed even watching, but it was still interesting, especially when they got to see Khan Mingjue competing.

The Khan was truly a force of nature, and he knew how to handle any type of opponent. He easily won every match they saw him in, overpowering men of every size and strength. He seemed pleased at first when he noticed that Huaisang and Lan Xichen had come to watch, but lost any good humour when he spotted Meng Yao with them. As for Meng Yao, he absolutely refused to look toward the Khan and instead kept leaning toward Lan Xichen to explain the rules of the competition, or who this or that man was. 

The longer the three of them stayed, the angrier Khan Mingjue appeared to be. It got to the point that even Huaisang noticed, and suggested they go check the preparation for the archery contest that would occur soon. The men's contest had happened the day before Lan Xichen had arrived, Meng Yao explained, but he insisted seeing the women shoot was also very impressive.

“I won’t be seeing it,” he lamented. “It’s time to milk the mares again, and then I’ll have to help check on the goats and the cattle. By the time I’m done with that, it’ll probably be night… and then you’ll surely be with the Khan, so it’s best if I keep my distance. Enjoy this, Lan gongzi, and I’ll see you again later.”

Left alone, Huaisang and Lan Xichen watched him go. A silence fell between them, caused on Lan Xichen’s part by the knowledge that talking had just become impossibly hard again. Huaisang looked a little sad as well, but got over it quickly and grabbed his husband’s sleeve to guide him toward a spot where they would have a good view of the archers.

"Khan Mingjue doesn't like Meng Yao?" Lan Xichen asked after a moment. 

Huaisang grimaced and shook his head. 

"Why not?" Lan Xichen insisted. 

His husband's grimace deepened, and he made a few helpless gestures. 

"Things," he sighed. "Before, friends. Now, brother say, no talk Menyao. I no talk." Huaisang paused, and laughed. "Brother sees, no talk Menyao," he corrected. "Brother no see, talk Menyao."

Lan Xichen smiled, relieved to hear this. Although he hadn't known him very long, he quite liked Meng Yao already, so it pained him to see him so miserable. It had also worried him to hear that his new husband was a fickle person, but it seemed Meng Yao had just misunderstood the situation. If there was a problem here, Mingjue was the cause rather than Huaisang. 

The rest of the afternoon passed without further problems. Just as Meng Yao had predicted, seeing the Nie women shoot was far more impressive than Lan Xichen would have expected. He personally enjoyed archery well enough, and practiced it at home whenever he had some free time. Aside from his brother, he didn’t know anyone better than himself, and usually came on top of whatever friendly competition he entered. Watching this contest, he found himself half wishing he could have entered, just to enjoy performing among such skilled people. However different the nomads were, it was a relief to realise there was a least of game they might share.

After the archery contest, there was a banquet, much like the night before, but one held in a different ger this time. It was, once again, much noisier and animated than what Lan Xichen was used to, and combined with the heavy food and the many emotions of the last few days, he soon found himself nodding off. Huaisang tried to tease him a little about that, but ultimately whispered a few words to his brother who bid them good night and allowed them to return to their own ger.

Feeling a little more comfortable this time, Lan Xichen removed his outer layers of clothing to prepare for bed. He hald suspected that he’d slept so badly the night before partly because the wedding clothes had been too warm. He only remembered why he’d kept those clothes on when he sat on the pelts used as bedding and noticed the way Huaisang stared at him. Just like the night before, there was hunger in his husband’s eyes, perhaps even more so than before now that Lan Xichen had revealed a little more of himself. 

For a second, Lan Xichen tensed, fearing that Huaisang would try something again. When his husband leaned closer, Lan Xichen raised his arm at the level of his chest, ready to defend himself. Huaisang looked at him in surprise, his eyes flickering to Lan Xichen's lips, but eventually pulled back. 

"Zichen not like…" he mumbled sadly, gesturing at his own mouth. "Ah…" He sighed, then made himself smile again, patting his husband's shoulder. "Zichen good. Not like, good. I not ask. Good ?" 

Feeling a little awkward, Lan Xichen nodded. He wasn’t sure how much he trusted that promise, but at least for the time being, he would take that. All that mattered was his safety.

So he laid down, covered himself with fur and turned his back to his husband, refusing to wonder whether he did or didn’t want Huaisang to kiss him anyway.