#trails of cold steel imagines

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(Genshin Impact/GFL/ToCS) Eula, Lumine, Jean, Sara, Lisa, AK-15, AK-12, Duvalie, and Sharon makeout HC's

I'd find a better way to segue into why I'm writing this, but I'll just keep it real with ya'll:

NSFT Implications (obviously)

Eula had not gotten a moment alone with S/O in quite some time. They were both busy, but this transgression would not be forgiven so easily.

What starts off as a simple few kisses slowly turns into something more passionate.

Eula's grip on her S/O starts to tighten as she wraps her hands around their waist and drags them closer.

She makes no mention of her increased heartrate or flushed face, focusing on only S/O's lips.

Pulling back for a moment so they can catch their breaths, she holds their face with both her hands for a brief moment.

(Eula) "You'll not escape this act of revenge, S/O."

She crashes her lips back into theirs far more forcefully as the two tilt their heads to a more comfortable angle.

And when she feels their tongue brush across her mouth, Eula's own tongue meets S/O's.

Although it's not obvious, Eula feels terribly shy throughout their kissing. Hopefully, she didn't come across too strong, but they've made no mention of it so far.

Her worries go unvoiced as the two lay onto the couch and resume their kissing as they hold onto one another.

Lumine happily gave a quick peck to S/O's lips as soon as she returned home.

The two giggled before S/O returned her kiss with another one.

And then another.

Paimon, receiving a quite yucky premonition, decided it'd be best for her to haul ass at her earliest convenience out of the room.

Lumine quickly locked the bedroom door behind her and resumed pressing her mouth into her S/O's, their giggles being replaced with more intense breathing.

(Lumine) "Come closer, please..."

Lumine's arms wrapped around S/O's neck due to her being shorter but had the strength to keep pulling them into her.

Her eyes stay shut and focuses solely on the feeling of S/O's taste as she pushes them gently against the wall.

Her arms slowly slide down to S/O's hands as she makes them hold her even tighter.

Lumine had originally planned to tell S/O how much she missed them, but this probably did the job better than her words.

Sara went stiff upon feeling S/O kiss her cheek.

Her hand instinctively reached the spot they kissed as she began to blush.

S/O kissed her again, this time on the lips and far more slowly, which Sara closed her eyes for.

She felt very strange, not knowing what to do and how to deal with these feelings boiling inside of her. She wasn't used to being so...vulnerable.

When S/O tried to pull away, Sara leaned further in and let the kiss continue for longer. She only pulled away for a second before going in for the kiss again, brushing her hair out the way.

Sara put both her knees around S/O's waist as her hands sat on their shoulders, going for a deeper kiss.

She had no idea what was overtaking her, all Sara knew is that she wanted more.

S/O opened their mouth to say something, but Sara put a finger on her lips before they could.

(Sara) "Don't...Don't say anything. Just stay like this..."

She was never great with her words anyway, it was her actions that did the speaking.

And though her lips were moving, she said not a word after that.

Jean's heart began to pound the moment S/O's hand rested upon her face.

She wasn't quite sure what to do until S/O went in for a kiss. She'd have been more shy, but thankfully, they were at home. Which meant some of her anxiety wasn't present.

Jean didn't resist when S/O continued to kiss her, even when they gently pushed her down further into the couch, she didn't protest.

S/O's kisses were beginning to make her mind blank, and only when she involuntarily moaned into S/O's mouth did she quickly jolt up.

(Jean) "i-I apologize. Did I make things...Um...-"

She was cut off with S/O kissing her again, but when she felt her hands squeezed in reassurance, all her doubts soared away.

Jean let S/O take the lead, slowly getting louder and louder.

She curled her fingers around S/O's, both of them holding onto each other's hands as their tongues explored every crevice of their mouths.

Lisa at first wanted to tease S/O with a slightly longer kiss to see their reaction.

When she saw them lean after her as she tried to pull away, Lisa couldn't help but giggle.

In fact, it got her excited. A dangerous shine in her eyes and a quick lick of her lips was all it took for S/O to shudder.

Lisa's gloved hands grabbed S/O's face as she had them straddle her on the chair.

S/O sucked on her tongue as her hands explored their lower back and reaching under their shirt.

When Lisa felt S/O's hands reach her chest, her fingers jolted them with the tiniest amount of electro, making them yelp.

(Lisa) "My, my. Getting greedy, aren't we? Well, that's not an issue, really.~"

Now, Lisa began taking their tongue into her lips and had them moan deliciously into her own mouth. Every time she used her electro vision to make them louder, she held them even tighter.

If they made this much noise when kissing, then it was going to be a fun night.

Truthfully, 15 had no earthly idea of what she was doing.

She was familiar with kissing, but the way S/O was doing it was far longer and more...strange.

She felt S/O push into her, leaving her wide eyed and mostly confused.

15 didn't hate the feeling, or at least it certainly didn't feel like she did. She just had no idea how to respond.

(AK-15) "Is there something I should be doing in return, S/O?...Kiss back? A-Affirmative."

15 then attempted to kiss back with the same force, but it seemed like S/O was taken by surprise as she suddenly lifted them off the ground and against the wall as she did so.

15 knew this wasn't correct, but S/O increased their kissing in response. Maybe they liked this? Humans were so strange.

And yet...she couldn't resist either. 15 closed her eyes to make S/O more comfortable and followed their lead. They seemed more experienced in this field after all.

12's smug grin seemed to grow when she felt S/O hug her from behind.

She quickly grabbed S/O and pulled them in front of her, their faces inches away from each other.

12 then felt S/O's plush lips against hers, which she hummed in approval as she pushed back.

12's moaned into S/O as her weight slowly pushed into their chest.

Her hands cheekily groped their butt, which made S/O gasp and flush with embarassment.

(AK-12) "Hm? Is something the matter? I figured you'd like that."

Not giving them a chance to respond, her hands continued to hold tightly onto S/O's rear as she began kissing their neck.

12 did like the kissing, but she enjoyed hearing what noises S/O made even more.

Duvalie sighed with a pout as she averted her gaze, allowing S/O to give her a smooch.

She mumbled something under her breath when S/O asked if they could do so again, but made no moves to stop them.

By the fourth time, she had turned to meet their lips and had her eyes closed.

By the sixth time, their kiss was lasting about thirty seconds as her pouty demanour faded.

Now, by the ninth time, her hands were on their back as she put the side of her head against their chest.

(Duvalie) "...Just a few more, got it?"

When S/O gently raised her off the ground and had their hands on her waist, she seemed to completely forgot what she had said.

Duvalie had her hands push their head closer as her tongue wrapped around theirs.

She tried her best to stifle the whimpers coming out of her, but after a few minutes of this wonderful feeling of love, she didn't care anymore.

All she wanted was to feel S/O's love that moment.

Sharon's signature smile didn't budge as S/O kissed her hand. She tilted her head expectedly, waiting for S/O to make another move.

Taking the cue, S/O then kissed Sharon on the lips, to which she kissed back and delicately held both their hands with hers.

Sharon intensified the kiss after a few moments and waited for S/O to take another step.

And she was very pleased when she felt S/O lean in more, their kiss slowly growing more needy.

When S/O pulled back, a thin string of saliva connected their lips, with S/O shyly wiping it off with a free hand.

Sharon took that free hand, and seductively put their index finger into her mouth and sucked it for a moment.

Giggling at their flustered reaction, she pulled their hand out and smirked.

(Sharon) "Are you satisfied with just a kiss? Because I do not believe I am, S/O."

Finally seeing she had their consent, Sharon took the next step herself by having her hands slip up to S/O's back.

Sharon sucked on their neck as her thumb gently entered the side of their mouth and pulled out their tongue.

She swallowed their mouth as her strength lifted them off the ground and into the nearby bed.

Sharon had a mind to taste more than their tongue tonight.

[halcyon-writings]

Are you still doing Cold Steel requests? If so can I get Machias comforting the reader on a bad day? (In CS1 era preferably)

Of course u can anon!! (thank god u clarified for cs1 bc I did NOT finish anything with cs2 yet)

nav.

Initially, Machias could not stand you.

Nothing truly against you, of course. Only that you happened to belong to a noble house. A prim and proper scion, he had called you. (You had to wonder, if such a literal title could be said with such venom, how else he could insult people? You were a little impressed to be honest, not that you would admit that.)

And like him, you had a proficiency in marksmanship. A rifle’s scope is trained on a target as you make another shot, right in the center. Yet the crease of your brow shows you’re not focusing on the target in the slightest. Machias crosses his arms as you place your weapon down, eyes looking past the target as you wipe your face.

“You’ve been staring at me for five minutes,” Your voice makes him jump.

He stammers out some weak excuse, one that you clearly don’t buy as you roll your eyes, reloading your weapon again as you begin to aim.

“Well, if you’re looking for someone to listen to your endless complaints, maybe go and ask Rean if he’s not busy being the student council’s errand boy?” You suggest with a thin smile. But it’s your eyes that make him falter. They’re focused on the targets, sure, but there’s something in your gaze that makes him hesitate in retorting. There’s a tinge of redness in your eyes. Had you been crying?

“Are you alright?” The words leave his lips before he can stop them.

You place the rifle down, perplexed at his words. Eyes shift from him to behind him, as though you’re expecting him to be asking someone else about their wellbeing and not yours. You don’t see anyone else. To his chagrin, you look again anyway.

“Will you quit that?” He snaps instead, the flush on his cheeks growing as even the tips of his ears felt hotter.

You make a face, nose crinkling as you tap your finger restlessly, waiting for him to speak. He pushes his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, shuffling on the soles of his feet. The only sound now accompanying you both is the random chirping of birds to the whistling of the wind in the grass.

Still, Machias does not falter, this time uncrossing his arms.

“Are you alright?” He repeats. This time his tone is quieter, gentler even, unlike his usual one. “You look off.”

There it is. Your brow furrows again as you give him a look.

And with an unimpressed tone, your reply comes, “You suck at trying to sound comforting.” You’re facing him fully now, this time your arms crossed over your chest. Practice targets and rifle forgotten, this time conversing properly with your peer.

“I’m fine, if you’re that worried. But if you need to use the targets for practice, I still have…” You trail off, checking the watch on your wrist for a moment before you look up again, “…about half an hour.”

Well, that’s what he was there for. Your presence was circumstantial.

Still, he doesn’t believe you. And like many things about him, he was stubborn and wanted to prove a point.

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Your tone sounds lighter as you go back and forth. For even a small smile grows on your face. And despite himself, a hint of a smile grows on his face too. For once you’re not some scion, that you remind him of, since you’re not the oldest child of your family. You’re just you. His classmate. But both of you make a face in agreement when the word friend floats around.

You pack your things, taking a final swig of your water bottle before tossing it in the cans nearby. You leave Machias to practice on his own now. His words somewhat of a comfort for what had been bothering you.

Friend, huh?

It was certainly not that. But it was a start.

[ninjaunicorn]

The Sacrifice

[inkedmyths]

The hot take of the day is Falcom should make a Magical Girl Alisa R anime

[criticallyinneedofadar]

The North

Uh oh. New hyperfixation just dropped.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Tragaryen!Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold cuts through your thick cloak as you descend Cannibal’s side, his black scales glinting faintly in the weak northern sun. Winterfell rises before you, a stoic fortress that speaks of enduring hardship and unyielding honor. The men waiting at the gates, wrapped in furs, watch you with expressions ranging from curiosity to mistrust. To them, you are not the Dragon Queen’s emissary, not a rider of the Cannibal, nor a strategist who has studied every battle fought in the Seven Kingdoms. You are just a girl—a second daughter.

But they will learn.

Cannibal growls low behind you, the sound reverberating in your chest, and the men instinctively step back. You hide your smirk as you step forward, head held high, your boots crunching on the snow-packed ground.

Lord Cregan Stark waits in the courtyard, his gray eyes like a winter storm, scrutinizing you. He is taller than you imagined, broad-shouldered and clad in furs that make him appear even more imposing. A faint scar bisects his left eyebrow, and his expression is as unreadable as the Wolfswood in winter.

“Lady Targaryen,” he says, his voice deep and resonant, carrying over the murmurs of his men. “We do not often see dragons in the North, let alone one such as yours.”

You incline your head, keeping your voice steady despite the cold biting your cheeks. “Cannibal and I go where duty commands, my lord. My mother has sent me to call the banners of the North in defense of her claim to the Iron Throne. The honor of House Stark is known even in the halls of Dragonstone.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but not unkindly. “And yet, she sends you instead of your elder brother. I wonder why.”

The question hangs in the frosty air, a test if ever you’ve heard one. You meet his gaze unflinchingly.

“My mother does not send fools to treat with wolves,” you reply. “Jacaerys flies east, but I have studied the North’s history and strategies since I was old enough to hold a book. I know its people, its lords, its victories—and its sacrifices. You may question my youth or my blood, Lord Stark, but do not question my ability.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, perhaps a hint of amusement or approval, but he says nothing for a moment. Finally, he gestures toward the hall.

“Come inside. The North is not kind to dragons—or their riders—when left too long in the cold.”

You nod and follow him, acutely aware of the curious gazes trailing after you. Cannibal rumbles again as you leave him behind, his presence a lingering shadow even as you step into the warmth of Winterfell’s great hall.

The great hall is alive with the warmth of a roaring hearth, its walls hung with banners of direwolves and the scent of roasted venison thick in the air. You sit at a long table, opposite Lord Cregan, with his advisors flanking him. They are older men, clad in heavy furs and carrying the stern expressions of those who have weathered many winters.

From the moment you entered, they have looked at you as though you are a curious ornament, a bauble sent south to charm and flatter.

“…Of course, it is a delicate matter,” says one, a gray-bearded man named Lord Mors Karstak. His tone is patient, as though explaining a simple concept to a child. “The men of the North value strength, but they also value respect. Perhaps it would be best, Lady Targaryen, if you left the… delicate matters of war to those better suited to them.”

Your spine stiffens, the words wrapping around your pride like a vise. You meet his gaze, your expression unmoving, even as your blood begins to boil.

“And what exactly do you mean by ‘delicate matters,’ Lord Karstak?” Your voice is even, but it carries an edge sharper than Valyrian steel.

The room falls still. Lord Karstak shifts in his seat, clearly expecting you to demur, but you do not give him the satisfaction.

“Well, my lady,” he begins again, his tone softening as though you are a maiden too tender to hear the truth. “The raising of men, the planning of battles, these are tasks that require a certain… authority.”

“Authority,” you repeat, leaning forward slightly. “I see. And what about riding dragons, Lord Karstak? Do you believe that requires authority?”

His brows furrow. “I—of course, my lady, but—”

“Do you ride a dragon, Lord Karstak?”

The question lands like an arrow, and the other advisors glance at him uncomfortably. He clears his throat. “I do not, my lady.”

“Do you command the loyalty of a beast that has lived longer than the walls of Winterfell?” you press, your voice growing colder with each word. “Have you flown above the clouds, stared down armies, or felt the fire of your mount burn away the enemies of your house?”

Karstak is silent now, his face redder than the embers in the hearth.

You lean back, letting the moment settle before turning your gaze to the others. “I may not have gray in my hair or the winters of the North etched into my face, but I am a dragonrider of House Targaryen. My mother has trusted me with the honor of commanding dragons and men alike. I suggest you remember that before assuming I am here to embroider banners or pour wine.”

Lord Cregan remains silent, but there is a glimmer of something in his eyes—approval, perhaps, or at least curiosity.

Finally, it is another advisor who speaks, a lean man with the pinched face of a fox. “Well said, my lady. But the North is no place for grand gestures or fiery displays. It is built on trust and loyalty. And trust is not so easily won by words alone.”

“Trust is earned,” you agree, your gaze steady. “But if you wish to see action, you need only ask. Give me a challenge, and I will meet it. If you seek proof of my worth, I will provide it.”

The men exchange looks, some dubious, others intrigued.

Cregan finally speaks, his voice calm but firm. “That will not be necessary. Lady Targaryen has come here with her mother’s trust, and I intend to see that trust is respected. If any of you doubt her words, you may speak to me directly.”

The tension eases, though Karstak continues to glower. You incline your head toward Cregan, silently acknowledging the support, though you know this is just the beginning. If the North requires proof of your strength, you will give it to them in full.

You are no gentlewoman of the court. You are a dragon. And soon, they will all understand.

[midastouch013]

The Assassin and The Sunshine

Summary: You and Yelena were the most least-likely pair, or atleast that's what the avengers (Minus Natasha and Wanda) thought. So what happens when they see how the blonde acts when you get hurt

Warnings: Gunshots, medical stuff (minorly). Angry Yelena

----

Yelena Belova, with her steely gaze and lethal precision, was the epitome of intimidation among her peers. Her reputation as a formidable assassin preceded her, casting a shadow of fear wherever she went. With every calculated move and icy demeanor, she commanded respect and evoked a sense of unease among those around her. She was a force to be reckoned with, leaving a trail of apprehension in her wake.

And then there was you, Y/n Y/L/n. With a personality as bright as the sun and a heart as pure as gold, Y/n brought warmth and positivity to every situation. Her infectious laughter and unwavering kindness had a way of melting even the coldest of hearts, earning them the affectionate nickname of "the team's golden retriever."

Your gentle nature stood in stark contrast to Yelena's, and yet, somehow, the two of you had found a connection that defied explanation.

It wasn't easy, navigating a relationship with someone as closed-off as Yelena. She was slow to trust, and her walls were fortified with layers of steel. But you were patient, willing to chip away at those barriers bit by bit until you reached the heart of who she truly was.

The rest of the team couldn't understand it. They saw Yelena as an enigma, a formidable presence to be feared and respected. They couldn't fathom what you saw in her, why you would choose to be with someone so different from yourself.

"It's just... I don't get it," Tony remarked, glancing over at Yelena and you conversing in the corner of the room. "What's the deal with those two? Yelena's like a walking arsenal, and Y/n's... well, Y/n."

Steve nodded in agreement, his gaze following yours and Yelena's interaction. "I know what you mean, Tony. It's hard to imagine what they see in each other. They're like night and day."

Clint, who had been listening in on the conversation, chimed in with her own thoughts.

"Exactly! I still can't wrap my head around it," Clint admitted, scratching his head in confusion. "Yelena and Y/n... they're just so different from each other."

Bruce chuckled softly, glancing towards where you and Yelena were sitting. "Love is a strange thing, Clint. It's not always logical. Maybe Y/n sees something in Yelena that we don't."

Clint sighed, shaking his head. "I guess you're right. I just hope they know what they're doing."

--

It was a cold autumn day, and you found yourself on another mission alongside Natasha Tony, Steve, and Clint. The tension hung heavy in the air as the team moved with practiced precision through the dimly lit corridors of the enemy's stronghold.

The mission had been intense from the start, nearly dodging attacks at almost all turns, but as you ventured deeper into the heart of the HYDRA base, the atmosphere grew even more charged. Every step felt like a potential trap, every shadow a potential threat.

Suddenly, chaos erupted. Gunfire erupted from unseen assailants, and you found yourself instinctively stepping in front of Clint, shielding him from the onslaught. The impact was immediate, a searing pain lancing through your side as the bullets found their mark.

"Y/n!" Natasha's voice was a mix of alarm and concern as she rushed to your side, her expression tight with worry.

Clint knelt beside you, his hands hovering uncertainly over your injured form. "Y/n, are you okay?"

You managed a weak nod, gritting your teeth against the pain as Natasha and Tony quickly moved to assess your injuries.

"We need to get her out of here," Natasha declared, her voice firm as she glanced around the chaotic scene.

Steve's voice crackled over the comms. "Quinjet's on its way. Hold tight, we'll get you out of there."

As you were carefully lifted onto a stretcher, the team worked quickly to stabilize you. Despite the pain, you managed a weak smile, reassured by their presence.

"We've got you, Y/n," Tony said, his tone determined as he helped load you onto the Quinjet.

Clint squeezed your hand gently, his expression filled with worry. "Hang in there, okay? We'll get you patched up in no time."

You nodded weakly, feeling a surge of gratitude for your friends. As the Quinjet engines roared to life and the aircraft lifted off, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you, knowing that even in the midst of danger, you had your closest friends by your side.

----

As the Quinjet touched down back at the base, the team wasted no time in transferring you to the medbay. Before Yelena could arrive, the medical team swiftly brought you into the operating room, shielding you from her sight.

Moments later, the door burst open again, and Yelena stormed in, her expression a mask of fury. Kate Bishop, who happened to be sparring with her when FRIDAY had informed Yelena of the news, was right beside her, offering silent support.

"Where is she?" Yelena demanded, her voice a dangerous growl, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

Natasha stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Yelena, they've taken her into surgery. They're doing everything they can for her."

The blonde's tension only seemed to escalate at Natasha's words. "They better be taking care of her!" she barked, her tone sharp and threatening.

Tony and Steve exchanged uneasy glances as Yelena's fury filled the room. They shuffled awkwardly, intimidated by the practically burning blonde.

Yelena turned her rage on them, her eyes blazing with fury. "This is all your fault!" she accused, her voice cutting like a knife. "If anything happens to her, I'll make sure you all pay!"

Steve, ever the voice of reason, tried to reason with Yelena. "Yelena, we understand your concern, but right now our priority is getting her the help she needs."

Yelena's eyes flashed with fury. "Your priority should have been keeping her safe in the first place!" she shot back, her voice sharp with accusation, her Russian accent adding an extra edge to her words.

Tony, normally quick-witted, found himself at a loss for words in the face of Yelena's anger. "We did everything we could," he insisted, his tone defensive.

Clint, usually unflappable, shifted uncomfortably under Yelena's intense gaze. "Yelena, we're all worried about her. But yelling at us isn't going to help," he reasoned, trying to diffuse the tension.

But Yelena's rage was unyielding. "You think I care about your excuses?" she spat, her voice dripping with disdain. "All that matters to me is her. And if anything happens to her because of you…"

Natasha exchanged a knowing glance with Kate, silently acknowledging that it was time to intervene and calm Yelena down before her fury escalated further.

"Yelena," Natasha spoke softly but firmly, stepping closer to her friend, "I know you're scared. But yelling at them won't help Y/n."

Kate nodded in agreement, placing a gentle hand on Yelena's arm. "We're all worried about her," she added, her voice calm and reassuring. "But right now, we need to trust that Dr. Cho and Bruce knows what they're doing."

Yelena's anger seemed to waver for a moment as she looked between Natasha and Kate, her resolve beginning to soften.

Natasha continued, her voice gentle yet persuasive. "Y/n needs us to be strong for her right now. She needs you to be strong."

Kate nodded in agreement. "We're all in this together, Lena. We'll get through this, but we need to stay calm and focused."

Yelena's shoulders tensed, but gradually, the fire in her eyes began to dim as she took a deep breath, her anger giving way to concern for you. "I just want her to be okay," she admitted, her voice softer now, tinged with worry.

Natasha squeezed Yelena's hand reassuringly. "We all do," she said, her voice filled with empathy. "And Helen and Bruce will do everything we can to make sure she is."

As the tension in the room began to ease, Yelena nodded in silent agreement, her gaze lingering on the closed doors of the operating room where you lay.

Natasha gestured towards a nearby chair, silently inviting Yelena to sit beside her. Yelena hesitated for a moment before finally sinking into the seat, her body trembling with emotion.

Natasha wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulders, offering a comforting embrace. "It's going to be okay, Lena," she murmured, her voice soft and soothing.

Yelena leaned into Natasha's embrace, her walls crumbling as tears streamed down her cheeks. She buried her face against Natasha's shoulder, her sobs muffled against the fabric of her sister's uniform.

The other Avengers watched the scene unfold with a mixture of surprise and understanding, their eyes widening as they witnessed a side of Yelena they had never seen before.

Tony exchanged a glance with Steve, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered under his breath, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"She's stable"

---

The steady beeping of the monitors filled the room as you blinked away the fog of anesthesia, your senses gradually coming back to you.

As your eyes fluttered open, you were met with the sight of Yelena sitting beside you, her expression soft and full of concern. "Hey," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached out to her.

Yelena's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of you awake, but she quickly composed herself, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she took your hand in hers. "Hey," she replied, her voice gentle and full of warmth.

Relief flooded through you as you squeezed her hand, grateful for her presence by your side. But, as you squeezed Yelena's hand, a wave of concern washed over you when you noticed the tears welling up in her eyes. "Lena, what's wrong?" you asked, your voice filled with worry as you reached out to gently cup her face with your hand.

Yelena's lower lip trembled slightly as she tried to compose herself, but the floodgates had opened, and tears began to trickle down her cheeks. "I was so scared," she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought... I thought I might lose you."

You pulled her into a gentle embrace, holding her close as she cried softly against your chest, which hadn't be affected much, and was already fixing up thanks to Bruce's cell regenerator.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm right here," you whispered softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Yelena leaned into your embrace, her tears gradually subsiding as she took comfort in your presence. "I was so scared," she admitted again, her voice trembling slightly.

You brushed a strand of hair away from her face, offering her a small smile. "I know, Lena. But I'm okay now. You're the one who's always saving me, even when you're not anywhere near me," you said sincerely, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

Yelena's lips twitched slightly, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "Yeah, well, don't expect me to always save you," she teased lightly, a small chuckle escaping her lips, as she resorted to her usual coping method of humour.

You grinned, feeling a surge of affection for the woman in your arms. "Oh, come on, Lena. You love playing the hero," you teased right back, trying to lighten the mood.

A genuine smile spread across Yelena's face for the first time since you'd woken up. "I kinda do" she chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly, before the both of you started laughing.

But as the laughter faded, a heaviness settled in the air once again. Yelena's eyes clouded with sadness, the weight of the situation crashing down on her once more.

You reached out, cupping her face in your hands. "Hey, Lena. It's okay to be scared," you said softly, your voice filled with empathy. "But we're together now. And we'll get through this, I promise."

As the Avengers stood at the door, watching the unexpected tenderness between you and Yelena, they exchanged surprised glances.

Tony raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with disbelief. " The White widow is a softie after all, what would you know?"

Steve nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on his lips. "Seems like we all jumped to conclusions too quickly."

Bucky, who had been silently observing, chimed in. " I guess, they are perfect for each other hm"

Clint chuckled, shaking his head in amazement. "Never thought I'd see the day when Yelena Belova was making someone laugh."

As they listened to the laughter emanating from the room, as you and Yelena continue to make each other laugh, the Avengers couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the unexpected bond between you and Yelena. It was a reminder that sometimes, people were more than their tough exteriors.

[leeknot]

Stolen Hearts,Stolen Jewels

Mafia leader!Jeongin × Thief!Reader

MINORS DNI

wanings: hard dom jeongin

You were the best thief in Seoul, known for your stealth and cunning. Jeongin was the infamous leader of the notorious Black Rose gang, feared for his ruthlessness and charisma.

One night, you received an anonymous tip about an extremely valuable diamond, the "Heart of Seoul" ,being stored at Jeongin's mansion. You couldn't resist the challenge and infiltrated his heavily guarded property, only to be caught red-handed by Jeongin himself.

As you stood there, the stolen diamond still in your hand, Jeongin's cold, menacing gaze locked with yours. "You're either very stupid, or very good." he mused, his voice low and dangerous. He signaled his men to lower their weapons.

Jeongin approached you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. He reached out and gently took the diamond from your hand, turning it over in his fingers as if admiring its sparkle. "I've heard of you, the Ghost of Seoul. But I never thought I'd meet you in person."

He looked up at you, his gaze piercing and intense. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined." he said, his voice dripping with admiration. "But also incredibly reckless. Stealing from me is a death sentence most people understand."

Jeongin's hand reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was soft, but his eyes remained hard as steel. "I could kill you right here, right now, and no one would ever know. But I have other plans for you."

He moved closer, his cologne filling your senses as his voice dropped lower, more intimate "Tell you what... I might need someone with your unique skills. Join me willingly, and I'll forget this little attempted theft." His fingers traced your jawline "Refuse, and well..."

His lips brushed against your earlobe as he whispered "The choice is yours. But know this... once you're mine, you're mine completely. No more running, no more hiding." His hand slid down to your waist, holding you possessively

You inhale his scent deeply, feeling the weight of his gaze and the warmth of his body against yours. "Fine." you whisper, surrendering. Jeongin's lips curve into a satisfied smirk.

He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as he lifts you off the ground. You find yourself being carried to his office, the door closing behind you with a soft click. "Good choice." he murmurs, setting you down on his desk.

Jeongin leans in, his face mere inches from yours. "Now, let's discuss the terms of our new partnership." he says, his voice low and commanding. His hand slowly unbuttons his suit jacket, revealing the expensive fabric stretched across his broad chest.

His fingers work their way down to his dress shirt, unbuttoning it slowly, revealing a chiseled chest adorned with a small, intricate tattoo. He pauses, looking into your eyes for a reaction before continuing, "First rule."

"You always tell me the truth, no matter what." he says, his voice firm. "Second rule." He unbuttons his sleeves, rolling them up to his elbows, revealing more tattoos, "You're always by my side, no exceptions."

He moves closer, his breath hot against your neck "Third rule..." His hand trails up your thigh "Anything of mine becomes yours..." His other hand moves to cup your face "But you become mine completely..." His lips ghost across yours "Last rule..."

"If you ever try to leave or betray me," He whispers, his cold eyes glinting dangerously as he pulls out a small, black box from his pocket. He sets it down on the desk with a ominous click. "I'll kill you myself."

You swallow hard, your heart racing at the intensity in his gaze. "I understand," You whisper, your voice barely audible. "I'll never leave you, and I'll never betray you." You look at the black box, curiosity piqued. "What's in the box?"

He smiles mysteriously, retrieving the box and opening it to reveal a simple, elegant gold necklace with a single teardrop diamond pendant. "A small down payment for your service." He says, his fingers tracing the delicate jewelry "It'll look perfect against your skin."

He moves behind you, his fingers brushing against your neck as he fastens the necklace. "Such beauty shouldn't be hidden away." He murmurs in your ear, his breath tickling your skin. "Now..." He turns you around to face him, his hands resting on your waist.

"Let's seal our deal." He smirks, his hands slowly sliding down to your hips as he pulls you flush against him. His lips capture yours in a deep, dominating kiss, his tongue demanding entrance. He lifts you up onto the desk, stepping between your legs as the kiss grows more intense.

As the kiss breaks, he begins to unbutton your blouse slowly, his knuckles brushing against your skin. "I've wanted to do this since the moment I saw you." He growls, pushing the fabric off your shoulders to reveal your lacy bra.

His hands roam over your curves, tracing the edge of your bra before unhooking it with ease. He tosses it aside, his eyes darkening with desire as he takes in the sight of you. He leans down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking gently.

He switches to the other breast, giving it the same attention as his hands explore your body. He unzips your skirt, pushing it down your legs along with your panties, leaving you completely bare. He stands up straight, his eyes raking over your naked form.

He reaches for his belt, undoing it quickly before pulling his pants down. His erection is visible as he and he is huge and throbbing cock, his hands shake against your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist. "You're so beautiful."

He positions himself at your entrance, his tip teasing your folds. He looks into your eyes, his own burning with intensity. "I'm going to make you mine completely." He says, his voice low and possessive. With a single thrust, he enters you, filling you completely.

He groans at the feeling of being inside you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. He leans down to capture your lips in another passionate kiss, his tongue moving in rhythm with his hips.

As he kisses you, he increases his pace, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. He pulls out almost completely before slamming back into you, making you cry out in pleasure. He grabs your legs, throwing them over his shoulders, giving him even deeper access. "Fuck, you're so tight."

His thumb finds your clit, circular motions matching his powerful thrusts as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "Come for me, beautiful. Show me how much you love having my cock inside you." His words are dirty and powerful, leaving you completely at his mercy.

With a few more thrusts and a press of his thumb, he sends you over the edge. You scream his name as your orgasm rips through you, your inner walls squeezing him tightly. He follows soon after, groaning as he spills himself inside you, marking you as his.

He continues to thrust slowly through your aftershocks, drawing out every last wave of pleasure. Finally, he pulls out gently and collapses beside you, gathering you into his arms. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. "That was..." he pauses, searching for words

"Fucking incredible." He finishes, a satisfied smirk on his face. He kisses your forehead softly, his hands still roaming over your body possessively. "Mine." he murmurs, his voice filled with contentment and a hint of possessiveness. "All mine."

He traces lazy circles on your skin, occasionally pausing to kiss sensitive spots that make you squirm. "You know, I think I could stay here all night, just exploring every inch of your body..." His hand trails lower, teasing your still-sensitive folds. "Round two?"

As you're about to answer, he silences you with a finger to your lips, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Too late." he whispers, flipping you onto your back and spreading your legs, his face hovering just above your most intimate area.

He buries his face between your thighs, inhaling deeply. "My favorite scent," he murmurs before using his fingers to spread your legs wider, giving himself better access. He looks up at you mischievously as he blows cool air on your heated core.

Without warning, he dives in, his tongue lapping at your folds, teasing your entrance. He moans against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. He focuses on your clit, sucking and licking until you're writhing beneath him, your hands fisting in his hair.

He continues his relentless assault on your clit, his hands holding your thighs apart as he eats you out like a starving man. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he inserts a finger into your tight pussy, curling it to hit that sweet spot inside you. "Fuck, you taste so good."

He speaks against your wet flesh, his voice muffled but filled with desire. He adds a second finger, scissoring them to stretch you open. His tongue never leaves your clit, continuing to suck and lick it relentlessly as he fingers you. "I could eat this pussy all day, every day."

His words vibrate against your sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. He curls his fingers deeper inside you, hitting that magic spot over and over as he sucks hard on your swollen bud. He can feel your inner walls trembling, knowing you're close.

He intensifies his movements, fucking you with his fingers harder and faster, while his tongue works magic on your clit. Your breathing becomes shallow, your body tensing as an intense orgasm builds deep in your core. "That's it, baby. Come for me again..."

His teeth gently graze your swollen clit, pushing you over the edge. He feels your inner muscles clamp down around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. He continues to lick and suck, drawing out your orgasm, until your body goes limp beneath him. "Beautiful..."

He slowly removes his fingers from your convulsing core, bringing them up to his lips. He sucks your essence off them, his eyes locked onto yours. "My favorite flavor." he murmurs, before crawling up your body, his face glistening with your arousal.

He settles between your legs, his cock hard and ready against your wet entrance. He kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips "I really hope you're not planning on sleeping anytime soon, because I'm far from done with you..."

He grins against your lips, his eyes full of mischief and desire. He reaches down, positioning the head of his thick cock at your entrance. He slowly pushes in, giving you time to adjust to his size.

He starts to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first. He pulls out almost completely before slamming back into you, the force of his hips making your whole body jerk. "I'm going to fuck you all night, beautiful. All fucking night..."

He wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you onto his lap as he sits on the bed. He bounces you up and down on his thick length, his hands supporting your backside as he lifts you higher and higher with each thrust, hitting spots inside you that make you see stars.

He leans you back against the headboard, spreading your legs wider as he continues to fuck you with deep, powerful strokes. "Look at me." he commands, his voice hoarse with desire. His hands roam over your breasts, pinching your nipples.

His movements become more forceful, more intense. He watches how your body reacts to each hard thrust, knowing every sensitive spot to hit deep inside you. "Tell me what you need, baby. Tell me what you want." He growls against your neck. "Do you want it harder?"

He bites down gently on the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, pinning you in place with his strong frame. His movements become more aggressive, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. "Or maybe you want it slower..." He grins wickedly.

He slows down, his thick length dragging in and out of you at a maddeningly slow pace. He watches your face contort with need, his hands gripping your thighs possessively as he pulls you down onto him inch by agonizing inch. "Or maybe you want..."

He suddenly wraps your legs around his waist, changing the angle as he starts to thrust upwards into you at a brutal pace. He holds you in place with his strong arms, his face contorted with primal desire. "Or maybe you want it rougher?"

"Say it," he demands, his voice low and dark. "Say 'I want it rough'." His fingers dig into your thighs possessively, his nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on your skin as he continues to pound into you with reckless abandon. "Say it."

"...I..." hesitates for a moment, his movements never stopping "...I want it rough..." whispers softly, then loudly "I WANT IT ROUGH!!" He grins wickedly at your admission, picking up speed and force "Good girl..."

He wraps his hands around your neck possessively, his thumb tilting your chin up to look into his intense, dark eyes. "From now on, I want you to always look at me when we're like this, okay?" He chokes you gently, his voice low.

"Good girl" his grip tightens slightly, just enough to make you dizzy with pleasure "Keep looking at me while I fuck you. Don't you dare look away." his thrusts become even more forceful, almost punishing "These are mine now, aren't they?"

He growls, his free hand reaching between your legs to rub at your clit in time with his thrusts "Mine. Every. Fucking. Part. Of. You." He snarls, his hips slamming against yours with brutal intensity

With a roar, he pulls out and spills his seed all over your stomach and thighs, marking you possessively.

He gently cleans you up with a warm washcloth, being unusually tender now that his primal urge has been satisfied. He kisses your forehead softly "You did so well taking me... all of me." holds you close, his rough hands suddenly gentle "Rest now."

As you cuddle into his arms, he looks down at your marked stomach and thighs possessively. "Mine." He murmurs, his voice low and satisfied. He pulls you even closer, his large arm wrapped protectively around you. "All mine."

He falls asleep holding you, his large body curled around yours protectively. You wake up a few hours later, feeling sore and sticky, his seed dried on your skin. You look down at the marks on your stomach and thighs, his handprints and bite marks.

[just-some-user-hunny]

Alucard and Anderson fighting over you...

ok but Alucard and father Anderson both pining over the same person...

✧ If having an obsessive bloodthirsty vampire on your trail isn't bad enough, it appears you managed to capture another set of eyes... A set of eyes akin to madness.

✧ Alexander Anderson is puzzled; yet enthralled by your mere existence once he sees for himself the kindness you possess. The way you are so tender and kind to even the lowliest of hellspawn captures his attention. How you smile and treat the Draculina Seras with kindness, like she were a good friend, despite her dead heart and cold body. will earn you a prolonged stare from the towering man himself whenever you are within his presence.

He listens. He watches. Observing the way you confide within the young vampire, or flitter beneath Integra's steel Gaze- and especially how you seem to appear nonchalant despite being shrouded in the no-life kings shadow. It's curious to him, oh so very curious. It's Maddening to him.

✧ Who are you? What are you... You're nothing more than a fragile human, dear and earnest. You may have your obscurities and oddities, but at the end of the day, you're a little thing ensnared within the claws of hellsing.

✧ Through contemplative nights and long days of reading scripture and clutching his cross within his worn palms, he comes to a conclusion amidst a sleepless dream. An angel. You must be! How you exist in this cutthroat world is impossible, how else are you so full of light and joy? A sliver of heaven itself.

✧ Once he has found himself content with his conclusion, he grows frustrated with the fact that his rival- his dark contrasting other half, seems so infatuated. He has no business being so close to you- his mere presence is like an iron cage around a dove.

Father Anderson can see the no life kings obsession with you, the way this beast has formed this 'claim' to you, and it repulses him. To see such an innocent soul in the sights of a monster enrages him to no end. However he can only deny his own hypocrisy for so long. You too occupy a section of his thoughts and heart, often thinking of you in prayer and requesting the lord of your safety and wellbeing. The irony of being no different from the vampire vexes him so.

✧ They already butt heads, ready to tear one another limb from limb. Alucard is possessive and protective of you, and definitely doesn't like how his arch nemesis is hellbent on 'saving' you from the evil soulless beast that sunk its fangs into you.

Just the moment they are in the same room, all you can do is sigh and rub your temples- inbound by the fighting that's about to go down. Like wild alleycats. 'here we go...'.

✧ Father Anderson wishes strongly for you to remain with him, away from the vile twisted hands of Integra- and Ultimately out of the jaws of her bloody hound. You'd be safe in his residence; away from the cold stone hellsing manor walls and the shadows that occupy it. You'd have sunshine, warmth, safety. You'd have no reason to fear; no reason to hunger, nor thirst, nor shiver from the cold. The church will keep you safe within its Holy walls. You will remain a soft soul, kept away from the monsters.

✧ Prepare to be questioned by this vampire hunter whenever your paths cross. 'how are you? Are you being treated fairly? Are you sleeping and eating well? Are you happy?'. Please assure this man's every inquiry, for even a hesitant falter in your words or a deflated expression on your face will warrant an extreme reaction from him. (And by that, I mean he'll hail an onslaught of insults upon integra and her seething vampire). He's so keen to sweep you away, so he'll grasp at anything to justify it.

✧ As you can imagine, Alucard is not a fan of his rivals intrusive nature towards his human. His beloved. Blood red eyes will glare venomously at the priest as he speaks sweetly to you, wanting to laugh at his onslaught of questions. Are you sleeping well? Of course you are, he sees to it himself. Are you safe? The safest place is in the eye of the hurricane, after all. What foolish inquiries.

✧ I think ultimately when your personal safety is in danger, they'll reluctantly team up. They have the same goal in mind- to keep you alive. Perhaps a part in themselves will enjoy the partnership. The contrast of their existences somehow meshing perfectly together when they're doing something they both have their sights on. They're both unstoppable, impenetrable  forces.

✧ Still, they see no other reason that they have to like each other. They still butt heads like possessive alley cats, spitting their snide remarks and wit towards one another like their hail of bullets and blades.

"Really? Now you Don't see me cowering in the shadows of her room watching her sleep. It's rather pitiful, don't you think?".

Alucard finds his taunts amusing. His grin widening at his rivals words, chuckling lowly at his snide remarks. Does this man honestly believe he has any shame? Any embarrassment when it comes to you? This all but frustrated Alexander more, hence the neverending cycle of aggression towards one another.

✧ The boisterous taunts will only ever earn a few array of reactions. Either alucard will give a sharp toothed grin and shamelessly agree with his own infatuation, or snarl and glare. It very much depends on what's said.

"Do you really think that an angel like her will want an evil, soulless creature like you?".

Any prods at Alucard himself are met with deep rumbling laughter and snarling grins. He cannot disagree, father Anderson speaks the truth. He is a monster. In fact, it's frustratingly amusing to him.

"And yet, she is mine. Funny, isn't it, father?".

✧ Him seeing Alucard as a tick in your side.

A disease that refuses to leave.

Nothing good comes out of having a vampire attached to you. It irks him to see an innocent soul in the clutches of the no life king.

The hostility between them turns sour, more intense. It's not just a battle between unstoppable forces anymore- with you thrown in the mix, it's a hellfire of bullets and blades. Father Anderson wants to save you, and Alucard wants this bothersome human to stay away from his human. As said before, they will reluctantly collaborate if it assures your safety- despite their own selfish desires to be your own hellish tormentor and divine protector. An immovable object, and an unstoppable force.

✧ Just know, that no matter who you choose to remain besides, the other will be just as infatuated and stubborn. You'll be caught in a whirlwind, a force you cannot escape nor fight. What will you do? Will you grace the monster with your gentleness, or will you fall into the arms of a mad saint? That power lies within your hands.

I find their dynamic so interesting, they're the opposite sides of the same coin. I'd love to hear anyone's interpretation or thoughts on them!!!

[damn-stark]

Chapter 28 Let it be fear

Chapter 28 of Moonlight

A/N- :/

Warning- talks of pregnancy, ANGST, FLUFF, fluff, and more fluff, some violence, talks of blood, and SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 491-515

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

There’s a certain beauty that blesses the Trident today as the chilling blue sky lets the cold sun shine over the thick green wilderness, but what is a rainless horizon compared to him?

There’s a serene silence that accompanies you as you overlook The Keep of House Frey from the top of a nearby hill, and in that silence, you’re captivated by the way the sun captures Cregan, and for a moment, like sunbeams breaking through a storm, there’s a warmth in his stormy eyes that melts away the threat he usually carries, providing a warmth only his grey eyes can offer; which is pretty fascinating considering grey is cold, hard, and dull, but those grey eyes of his have a way of being warm under the sun. They’re also mysterious and beautiful like steel against firelight. It’s your favorite color too, but only because he makes it captivating.

Alas, in all that admiration does he notice you? No, and it’s okay because you find your courage and motivation to keep going in his unawareness.

“The last destination,” you break the silence and as if taking one last breath of him you look away to follow his line of sight to the The Twins sitting below.

“You’ll gain their support just like you have gained all the rest,” he offers as a piece of reassurance, but this time it doesn’t ease your concern.

Cregan notices that the moment you don’t respond and only gets reassurance of that when he looks over at you and sees the storm of stress raging behind your eyes. “You will get their support one way or another,” he presses and gently cups your neck, causing you to quickly look away from the keep to meet his eyes that just reflect you this time.

“I burned Lady Frey and her army of men—”

“After they tried to take Harrenhal by force and captured you in the process,” he cuts you off to remind you of that detail. “They were okay with betraying the Queen to take control of the rubble of a useless castle. What you did was justifiable in a time of war. You did the right thing and if they don’t see it that way then we'll make them. Or you will,” he says with a lighthearted huff and proceeds to offer you an assuring smile as he drags his hand down your side to interlace his fingers with yours.

“You’re right,” you breathe out and find it again, just there in his eyes as your hands are interlinked, the bliss of home. However, as you’re in the depths of your comfort you find it in yourself to ask something that’s been gnawing at you. “And once we fight in this upcoming battle when we win, do you think that will be enough to return home? To my mother?”

Cregan blinks in confusion and you explain why you haven’t returned home or sent her a letter. “When I returned from Harrenhal after leaving my mother for months, she said to never leave her again. She found it in herself to forgive me for betraying her and siding with Aemond, but I left again. I left after she told me not to, so do you think gaining this support, building this reputation, and winning the battle will be enough for her to forgive me again? I let her down so many times I don’t know…if this is enough now.”

Cregan lets out a deep breath and his eyes drift to the side as the sound of incoming footsteps starts to ascend the hill, but he doesn’t pay them any mind, he leans his face forward and offers the best reassurance. “She’s your mother, would you forgive your children if you were in her position?”

You draw in a shaky breath and nod gently. “Of course, they’re my children, but…” you trail off and he fills your silence.

“She will forgive you. I can imagine there might have been tension before. This is all a tense situation, but you’re trying and fighting hard for her, she will recognize that and forgive you if she hasn’t already,” he offers you sweet words, making you nod gently in comprehension with no need to seek for more help. He fills your heart with the assurance you need to move on without hesitation or getting lost in the wilderness that are your thoughts.

So much so that you walk down the hill with your head held high and your mind clear because you know the Frey’s have this need to be resistant. They’re stubborn and proud, so you know that this meeting is not going to be as easy as the others were, there will be resistance and you prepare for that accordingly, making sure to have silver chains over your face that match the armor on your corset.

Never once do you falter in your step or the way you carry an intimidating stare behind those silver chains because you can see them the moment you walk into the great hall; you see them look for a fault in your step, a slight mistake, or an out of line hair to pick on and use against you and the people you’re with, but you don’t give them the satisfaction. With your blazing stare alone you challenge the young and great Lady Sabitha Frey, eldest daughter of Lord Frey, and Lady Frey who you killed at Harrenhal.

“Thank you for allowing us in your home,” Addam is the one who breaks the tension first but can hardly gain any of the audience's attention. Lady Sabitha has her sharp eyes on him, but everyone else…they all have their eyes on you as if wanting to tear you apart, but also keep you at a distance fearing if they got too close they’d burn alive too, which means the message was sent.

“I have heard that a great army has been marching through the Riverlands,” Lady Sabitha speaks at last but she doesn’t offer any greetings, she’s blunt and cold. “I was beginning to wonder if we would be paid a visit or be left out.”

“The Riverlands are grand,” Addam says back. “And our task is significant, it’s taken us time, but we are here at last.”

“It was her!” A voice blurts, bringing a stunned silence and turning all of the attention to you standing at Addam’s side—“She was the killer! She burned Lady Serena and her men! She did it! She’s the Fire Demon!”

You tilt your nose to the air and can’t help but smirk in response, but that only lets Lady Sabitha find a reason to finally display her rage and grief because she doesn't care if she got interrupted and humiliated by some common warrior, she's looking for a single step out of line to be able to drive her focus to you and her rage.

“I know there’s unresolved tension,” Addam tries to diffuse the situation. “But right now is not the time—”

“You find this humorous?” Lady Sabitha cuts Addam off without a care. “Is my mother's death funny to you, Princess?” She throws out as she rises off her seat. “Then again what can I expect from someone who breaks enemy lines whenever she pleases? That treason may be pushed aside, but my mother's death will not go unpunished. Not here in my home and my lands,” she sneers and slowly begins to step forward.

“Punished?” She feign a laugh. “What would be my sentence?” You quip and raise your brows to press her. “I showed Lady Serena that there are consequences to her treason—”

“Treason?!” She spats and opens her mouth to continue, but Ser Cane cuts her off.

“You will not interrupt the princess whilst she’s speaking. This may be your house but she still is the heir and your princess,” he scolds her as he takes a big step forward to be a more menacing presence amongst Cregan also standing at your side.

“Sure,” Lady Sabitha mutters under her breath as she comes to a stop without coming too close to you. “As I was saying,” she continues louder even though it should have been you taking the spotlight, but regardless, you let her share her argument. “My mother committed no treason, Prince Jacaerys promised Harrenhal to us. She was only taking what was hers by right.”

You scoff and flash her an amused smile. “If she wanted to take it by right she should have said so,” you rebuttal. “But no, she did not. She knew I was there and took me captive to try and sell me to my mother or my husband. She was willing to change sides. She took me captive, that is treason,” you spat and take a step forward. “Or what you’re going to argue and say it didn’t go that way? Because it did, ask the man who just barged in.”

The attention turns to the man who had interrupted the meeting and he shrinks within himself but doesn’t dare leave. He averts his gaze and listens to Cregan interject. “Tell us if the Princess is right or if your lady is. Now.”

The man blinks nervously and quietly gives his response. “We had lost so much and the lady was grieving her husband, she wanted to find a point to her loss.”

You don’t respond with anything, you look at Lady Sabitha Frey with a pointed glare as you celebrate within.

However, in your silence, you did expect Lady Sabitha to start forming some kind of apology, but she remains at a standstill with her eyes downcasted.

“Bend the knee,” you sneer with your glare turning cold. “You were wrong, bend the knee and give us fighting men to add to our army so we can fight our war. And since you have heard so much about us I’m sure you know which war. Bend the knee.”

A tension grows tenfold in the great hall as Lady Sabitha remains standing because in doing so she causes her people filling this hall to remain resistant as well.

“Bend the knee to your princess and heir by orders of Queen Rhaenyra,” Ser Cane insists in a booming voice.

Yet without speaking Lady Sabitha looks you up and down with her lips curled in anger and remains defiant, and even then you still wait and wait, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

However, when you don’t hear a word or see her bend the knee you throw your hand back without saying a word. And without the need for instructions as if your minds are connected, Ser Cane pulls Blackfyre out of its sheath, filling the hall with the sharp ringing of metal scraping before the Valyrian steel blade glistens against the rays of the sun as the large sword is handed to you. Once you have it in your grasp you then step forward to be at the center of attention.

“I am your heir,” you say in a voice laced with deadly venom that brings chills to the audience without the need to yell to get your point or voice across. “I am your princess. I am the Blood Dragon, you will bend the knee, pledge fealty to Queen Rhaenyra first of her name, and me, her chosen heir.”

Lady Sabitha glances at your shining sword and then slowly meets your gaze without uttering a single word. She keeps quiet and her glare becomes challenging and conflicted.

“Unless you plan to switch loyalty,” you continue in the same venomous voice still missing volume. “If so, tell me right now by pulling out your sword or choosing your champion.”

Lady Sabitha Frey tilts her head and snaps her gaze to your belly. “And you will fight like that?” She points her eyes to your belly, making you scoff and flash her a smile that’s all too menacing.

“I won’t fight,” you clarify. “I could say I want a champion and all my men would volunteer. Even Lord Stark and Ser Addam would fight for me, but why waste their energy or risk their lives when I have my dragon as champion? Tell me Lady Frey can you, your people, and your castle stand against my dragon?” You finally start to raise your voice. “Or will you turn to ash just like your mother did?”

Gasps bounce around the room and the woman’s jaw clenches as her eyes turn even more fierce.

“Tell me!” You exclaim and then turn on your heels to point the tip of your sword at the audience remaining just as defiant as their Lady. “Tell me if any of you can stand against my dragon!”

As expected, silence, even from the brave lady.

“No?” you continue. “Well, I can. I am the Fire Demon! My flesh is fire made!” Your voice continues to boom out of frustration, and passion as well. “And,” you laugh and slowly lower the volume of your voice but never drop the venom behind it. “It will bring me great pleasure to watch you all burn and scream as your flesh melts off your bones. Just say the word.”

Lady Sabitha Frey looks around at all the frightened looks that the audience all share in her defiance. She looks and looks in hopes for something that can keep her own flame from being blown out, but that defiance once so vividly lit within her people is snuffed out by the great fire you are and she knows she’s lost. When she turns to look at you and meets your glowering glare, you further prove to her that you’re not one to bluff, so what other choice does she have?

Thus without uttering a single word, but with the intention clear in her eyes she drops her challenging glare and drops her head in defeat. The moment you see her head fall, to add more shame to her actions you get close to her and throw your hand out just below her eye line.

Now Lady Sabitha has no need for explanations, she knows what you mean and what you want, so what other choice does she have but to slowly bend down, grab the tip of your fingers, and push her lips forward to press a light feathered peck on your golden Targaryen sigil ring before she at last bends the knee, causing the once defiant audience to follow her suit and bend the knee.

Once you see the top of everyone’s heads you look down at her again between your lashes and shoot her smirk before you turn around dramatically and talk to her over your shoulder. “You will lend us the swords we came for, and in response to your treason, Harrenhal is no longer yours. You will keep your lands, your home, and your lives, I will make sure to let the Queen know of your loyalty and apology as well.” You share with a honey-laced tone that only shames them more. “Oh, and you will prepare your home to host your guests accordingly, I will be staying inside for the night. Pleasure doing business with you, House Frey.”

——

*LATER*

What is it about the day?

There was a sense of peace that filled the day as the sun reigned over the sky. Even after the complicated business with the Frey’s, the serenity stayed, but now even against the fiery sky cast over the land, the dragons are caught in a restless spell as if they were uncomfortable and needed to be somewhere but couldn’t quite find a way to leave. They’re just flying in circles, filling the fierce sky with their almost melancholy song.

Maybe they’re tired of being in the Riverlands? Astraea and Seasmoke do love the sea, you think to yourself as Addam walks in and joins you in the library.

“They’re acting odd don’t you think?” You ask him as you refer to your dragons. “They’ve been circling the sky and crying for a while now.”

Addam approaches you near the window that has the best view of the running river that The Twins stand over, and at the moment notices the way the setting sun in its red and orange reign catches you with its fierce hues, but never once makes you look threatening or as rageful. The red and orange hue makes you appear enchanting and otherworldly; everything a Valyrian princess should be under such a fierce horizon.

“I wish I could know,” he doesn’t offer any kind of solution. “Where’s your Lord Stark?”

You roll your eyes away from the window and glance down at the book you have been reading. “He’s busy answering correspondence from home,” you let Addam know regardless if he’s teasing you. “He is a busy man, you know? He doesn’t just spend time at my side. You just happen to catch him with me when you look for me, that’s all.”

“Okay, okay,” Addam brushes you off lightheartedly and then nudges your knee with his foot. “You changed, you look nice.”

You look at him with a smile. “Thank you,” you redirect before you start to grin with amusement. “Just so you remember I am meant to change about three to four times a day. There’s my morning gown, my lunch and afternoon gown, my dinner gown, and if I go out or have to attend a meeting or court I change for that.”

Addam snickers and hides his grin by looking out the window. “I remember,” he says in response. “It’s ridiculous and a waste if you ask me. I mean why not wear the same thing all day or twice?”

You scrunch your nose. “Twice?” You quip. “I have only worn my favorite and most expensive gowns more than once, and now that we’re out here I have no other option, but why would I wear things repeatedly?”

Addam scoffs and leans forward. “Because why waste your money on something so materialistic?” He retorts with a dry laugh. “And because why not use it more than once?”

You squint at him and shake your head. “Money is not a problem for me,” you explain as if it isn't an obvious fact about you. “I am a Velaryon, our family is the richest there is, why shouldn’t I spend my share? Besides, there’s so many beautiful fabrics and talented designers, I can’t resist it,” you muse. “And all the colors,” you swoon. “The embroidery? The gold, pearl, or silver linings? It’s all so beautiful!”

With nothing left to argue with in his defense, Addam leaves it be with a roll of his eyes, letting you finally find the time to share the news you have been holding in for what feels like months. “Can I tell you something?”

“You’re going to do it anyway,” he retorts and rests his head back against the wooden panel as he locks his eyes on you. “What?”

A giddy smile creeps on your lips as you lean forward and grab his hands before you share. “Cregan and I are betrothed.”

Addam blinks repeatedly and his eyebrows slowly begin to pinch together, but then from one moment to the next, he flashes you a smile and scoffs. “I should have seen that coming. When did he ask?”

“A couple of nights ago,” you share and lean back without being able to let your smile go. “The night we had our campfire.”

Addam hums and slowly passes you a quizzical look. “Has he asked your mother? Or Lord Corlys? That’s who he would need to ask, no? How does that work without your father or Daemon?”

You shoot him a pointed glare. “I am a grown woman already with child. I don’t belong to anyone for him to ask permission. If I was a maiden then yes, he would have to ask for my hand, but I’m a widow. It’s my choice now…However,” you do add and avert your gaze. “Since I’m heir he does need to tell my mother, the Queen, but she won’t protest.”

You turn your gaze back to him and sigh to release your excitement before you clasp your hands and start to nervously fiddle with your rings. “But that’s not the only reason I’m telling you,” you pause and let out another deep breath before you look at him with a softened gaze riddled with a fragile vulnerability that could break at any given second.

“Weddings under the Old Gods are different,” you continue to say a bit quieter now. “They’re done under a heart three and usually a father walks the bride to the groom, but…my father is gone and Jacaerys is gone. I could ask my grandfather, but…I wanted to ask if you could walk me down the aisle when the day comes?” You ask and blink nervously, with each blink filling your eyes with more and more tears whilst Addam’s breath hitches and his own face drops that taunting expression to instead display his disbelief.

“It's okay if you don’t want to,” you quickly assure him in his silence you can’t read. “I can ask Joffrey, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to take that role.” You share your alternative with a happy smile so he doesn’t feel bad.

However, after another second of silence passes he finally draws out a deep breath he had been holding in and nods gently before he voices his answer. “I would be honored to walk you down the aisle.”

You beam and then lean forward to grab his hands and give it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” you offer sweetly. “Now Cregan and I want to marry after the war is over so we don’t have that weighing down on us or potentially ruin the day, so there’s still time, but I wanted to ask you now.”

Addam lowers his head to hide his smile whilst he also interjects with a smug comment. “You also need time to have your gown made, don’t you? What will it be made out of?”

You giggle and as you part your lips to rebuttal with something witty a knock raps on the door, pulling your attention away from your conversation.

“Come,” you welcome the visitor and slowly pull away from Addam.

The door opens and Cregan walks in. You’re happy to see him, you greet him with a smile, but when he walks further inside with a scroll in his hand you notice the solemn look he carries. And he’s usually serious so his expression shouldn’t really concern you all that much, but there’s something about the solemn look that he carries now that makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“Cregan,” you utter his name nervously and don’t move, hoping that if you stay in place whatever he has to say won't reach you.

“My princess,” he greets hesitantly and then greets Addam with a small nod. “Ser.”

You swallow back nervously and press your hands against the cushion to stand up, but he quickly shakes his head and retorts. “Why don’t you stay sitting.”

A shaky breath escapes you and you nod stiffly as you feel the goosebumps travel from the back of your neck down to the perimeters of your skin.

“What’s wrong?” You ask and his grey eyes leave you to drift to the scroll in his hand. You follow his line of gaze but then drift your eyes back to him in hopes that whatever it has to say isn’t as bad as you’re starting to assume.

“A raven just came,” Cregan finally shares and slowly drifts his gaze back to you. “From Kings Landing. It’s for you.”

You were starting to assume it was for you. You could read it off his face.

“I could paraphrase what it says. I think that would be better with the news it contains,” he says and only adds more fuel to the already worrisome fire, but you can’t have him summarize whatever news arrived for you or else you won’t believe it. You need to read every word yourself even though you’ll have a hard time believing it too.

“No, no. I want to read it. Let me read it,” you press him and stretch your hand out to reach for the scroll. However, Cregan hesitates and grabs the scroll with both hands to smooth out the parchment first before he leans forward and hands it to you.

“Thank you,” you whisper breathlessly and watch how the paper trembles in your hold as you already expect the worst news to be written on the parchment because what else would it be?

Life has been cruel. Why would it be nice now?

You shouldn’t even read it, you should leave the news unread because at least that way you’ll be oblivious to anything…but you also know you won’t rest easy if you don’t know, so after a deep breath you turn the parchment and read what was brought to you.

“To The Princess and Heir of Queen Rhaenyra,

I dislike having to send you this letter, but it has to be written so you may know.

I regret to inform you that as of last night, all the dragons that were kept in the Dragonpit have perished after an angry mob of smallfolk following some fake prophet called The Shepherd, raided the Dragonpit—“

Your breath hitches and you feel as if somebody had punched you in the stomach. The news that the power of your house, and the beautiful creatures that are like your soulmates have all perished at the hands of common folk filled with anger sinks your heart. It leaves you paralyzed in your seat, but you don’t cry. Not yet.

“—when the news broke of what was transcending the young Prince Joffrey left the Red Keep against the Queen’s wishes, mounted Syrax, and fell from the saddle whilst in the sky—”

A shaky breath escapes you and a heavy pressure falls on your chest, but you don’t cry. Not yet.

“—Syrax perished not much later after getting caught in the mob that killed the other dragons. And it seems that at the news of Dreamfyre’s unfortunate passing, Princess Helaena Targaryen flung herself from a window and fell to her death, enraging the crowds—“

More pressure falls on your chest, your bottom lip trembles and your eyes sting further as the tears building in your eyes pain them. However, you don’t cry. Not yet.

Cregan who was watching you read the letter expects you to weep. He keeps a close eye out, expecting you to fold over in heartache, but you remain poised and collected, almost like the agony is not as hurtful anymore.

“—and making the city fall. Amidst the chaos Queen Rhaenyra took Prince Aegon, Lord Aerion, the Queensguard, trusted knights, and her handmaidens, and escaped the city, leaving Lord Corlys in his imprisonment which he escaped. As to where she is we don’t know, but until your return with Ser Addam, it’s best she remains hiding. That’s why I write to you in hopes you can retaliate at once and take back the city. You are our only hope unless Prince Daeron marches here first.

Maester Orwyle.”

You watch the words on the parchment and go over the news in your head again and again, faster and faster every single time until you can’t process any more news and you’re sitting there baffled and without being able to utter a single word. Time is at a standstill, the once-warm room is freezing and your body is paralyzed.

Cregan and Addam call out your name ever so softly, fearing that you’ll break if they raise their voices, but you stay there stiffly, realizing that you have to mourn yet another beloved brother. You had five, now you’re left with a single one who barely knows your name.

The woman you loved like a sister, the woman you cherished and adored, the woman who was your dearest friend, the woman you grew up with is gone because she couldn’t bear any more grief. Your grandfather escaped a cell you didn’t know he was in. And your mother is on the run with your remaining brother and your son to escape the angry crowds who brought the city down with their rage which you assume is caused by the same things that were upsetting them when you were there; things your mother can’t control.

Everything you once knew is slipping from your grasp. You can see that clearly now—no, you’re admitting that to yourself now. The only thing you have left is a fragment of hope and it’s just your mother, your brother, and Aerion. They’re all you have left. They’re that last fragment of hope. Yet even if you still have them, even if they’re the last flicker of hope you’re holding onto, nothing stops that pressure once weighing your chest down from tearing you down because you still lost all the beautiful and cherished dragons that connected you to Old Valyria. You lost Helaena, your beloved and gentle aunt who was more like the sister you never got to have. And you lost your little brother Joffrey, a boy you held when he was only a few minutes old, a brother who was the reminder of your sweet childhood; the sweet and blissful life you had before you were ripped from your family. He was that last piece of your childhood and now he’s gone, taking that memory with him, and leaving nothing but this new version of you.

And yet you still don’t cry. Even with the two pairs of eyes that feel like a hundred people are waiting for you to break down, you still don’t cry. You do reflect the grief through your eyes, but you don’t weep, you don’t shed even a single tear. You let out a shaky breath and sit up straight with your head hanging low, but you don’t cry. You shake your head gently at the realization of the tragedy, but you don’t cry. You meet Cregan’s worried and pitiful gaze and remain collected. It takes a lot out of you to remain so strong, but you remember all you were taught and lift your head high and keep your chest out with your nose slowly starting to flare.

“Addam,” you break your silence, making the man’s shoulders jump and be even more attentive than he already was.

“I hope you’re ready,” you continue to mutter in a low and almost threatening voice. “We’re moving up our plans. We will attack Tumbleton right away.”

Addam shifts in his seat before he probes. “Why? What’s going on?”

You let out a deep huff and your drooped gaze slowly starts to harden, whilst your heart begins to pound in your chest as your blood starts pumping through your veins frantically.

“I want to catch them by surprise now,” you share in that same almost threatening way. It’s not threatening yet but it’s slowly building up to it. “I don’t want them to see us coming until the sky is falling down upon them so word is not passed to King’s Landing that we’re coming.”

Cregan and Addam share a worried look and you proceed to get up from your seat to look at them both between your lashes.

“We’re going to attack King’s Landing,” you proclaim, and with that threat, you completely abandon every desire to be loved and respected. If they want to fear you, you’ll give them a reason to really fear you. “They’re preaching that we’re a threat, a curse, and a menace,” you scoff and smirk menacingly. “So I will be just that. I will rain fire down upon them so they may see the curse they want me to be”

Neither man try to talk you down from the rage clearly now set upon you, they could try but what good would that do? So they do nothing but accept and welcome your rage.

“Come,” you direct at Cregan as you walk past him. “I’m going to tell the troops to get ready. We leave tonight.”

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

The sun is slowly lowering over the horizon, and with each passing second as the sun slowly leaves the sky darker and darker, making you grow more nervous as the fate of this battle is unknown. All that’s known is that only one side will win and depending on who comes out to fight another day, that person will determine the fate of this war and your mother's survival. With all the dragons dead and the others against her, she can only depend on Addam and you. If you lose tonight, she does too. So you can’t lose.

“You know,” Cregan interjects through the solemn silence that was blanketing you both, but in doing so he doesn’t pull your attention to him, you keep your eyes on the painted sky as if today will be the last time you ever see a sunset as beautiful as the one over your head.

“I wish you would wear more than just a chainmail gown,” he finally shares his complaints that have been nagging him since he saw you with the chainmail gown on you. “I would feel a lot better knowing you were heavily protected.”

You scoff and roll your eyes his way. “Do you want me to look like a cannonball with a full set of heavy armor?” You quip with a teasing smile. “Because that’s what I would look like.”

Cregan tries to muster a laugh but with his heavy worry dragging him down he can’t even muster the twitch of a smile. “At least you and the twins would be protected against anything that may come your way.”

You sigh deeply and drag yourself closer to him to grab his cold hands and cling onto them as you try and offer him some reassurance. “My Astraea will protect me from any incoming threat, and this chainmail gown is enough to block any attack. I’ll be fine, besides, I won’t stray too far from my dragon I…intend to keep my promise to Addam and Ser Cane,” you laugh stiffly. “No ground fighting if it’s not completely necessary.”

Cregan watches the way you caress his knuckles with your thumb as he tries not to argue against you, so you proceed to pull one hand away from his grasp and reach over to cup his jaw. “I won’t die tonight. I want to live. I have to live, so don’t worry about me, okay?”

Cregan’s dark eyebrows furrow and his eyes snap to you. “How could you tell me not to worry? About you of all people.”

The corner of your lips twitch to a smile as your heart is riddled with admiration. “Because my love, there beside all my grief and agony is a dream I want to see through. A dream that involves going back home with you. I thought about it…” you trail off to a whisper and drop the hand you have on his cheek to grab his hand once again.

“My mother has Aegon and Aerion, so hopefully by the time it comes to passing her crown down she’ll be old and wrinkly and the boys will be men, so they will be mature and ready to rule the kingdom she’ll leave behind,” you share words you never thought would come out of your mouth when you were younger, but now…what does Queen even mean without your brothers, Aemond, or anyone you used to know by your side?

It doesn’t mean anything. Not even a fraction of what it once meant to your beating heart and deepest desires. That’s why this new dream is easy to share because you’re certain it’s what you want.

“Because I don’t want any part of it,” you continue and he parts his lips in surprise. “I want to stay in Winterfell with you, with our family that we will have, and the people we will govern together. I don’t want to be Queen anymore, I want to be your princess until our last breath.”

Cregan shakes his head and reaches his hand over to cradle your face. “No, you can’t do that. Being Queen is all you wanted. You can’t just abandon that dream,” he tries to argue against the plans you murmur to him, but there’s nothing to argue about, you slept on it and pondered it long and hard so you’re certain abandoning your title as heir is what you desire the most.

“You’re wrong,” you argue and look at him with a softened gaze as you just admire him. “My dream is you now. You’re everything I want, so please don’t try and convince me any longer because my mind is made. Once this war is over I will take my children and pack all my life to leave with you. That’s why I’ll survive because I want to go home. Is that not nice?” You ask as your face contorts with heartache out of worry that he doesn’t like the sound of your new desires.

However, Cregan’s grip grows firmer against your cheeks and his hardened face twisted by surprise now softens and that smile that was once impossible slowly gets painted on his pale face. “Of course it’s nice. It’s great and I will do everything in my power to give you that beautiful dream, my darling love.”

You huff softly in relief and let him pull you closer to him so he can whisper against your lips.

“But tell me you’re certain. Tell me that your heart is set on this new dream of yours because I don’t want you abandoning something you always wanted out of fear or because of me.”

You grab into his wrists and nod gently. “I’m certain,” you affirm and kiss the heel of his palms. “I want to be wherever you are. I want to be home.”

The corner is his lips tug wider but that smile is quickly hidden as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I will always keep an eye out for you tonight,” he lets you know. “I will have your back from the ground, but if the battle gets too heavy you fly away, okay? Everyone will understand. You leave the fighting to Addam and us, okay? I know you’re angry, but my darling, you need to worry about your children, if not you, then worry about them.”

You swallow back nervously as you wish to protest, but in the state you’re in you really can’t fight like you used to, so you have to agree regardless.

“Okay,” you reassure him and gently stroke his wrist with your thumb before you steal a glance at his lips, and then look up into his grey eyes with a softened look full of awe before you lean in and steal a lingering kiss from his pink lips.

The kiss is not long, but it’s deep and full of passion. It’s full of longing and desire, and it reminds the both of you how much you really missed this form of intimacy. You missed being connected in such a sweet and passionate way that only you and him can ever understand. You missed the taste of each other, and getting lost in the wonders that kissing each other brings to your isolated world where only you and him exist.

However, once again it’s not long. Not as long as he would’ve wanted because you still feel odd kissing someone else after losing Aemond.

“And with this kiss my sweet Lord you have my favor in this upcoming battle,” you murmur against his lips, making him chuckle and then stroke your bottom lip with his thumb before he leans over and presses a peck on your lips.

“Gods I missed kissing you,” he flatters you and makes your face grow hot. “Once we marry I’ll never know that feeling ever again.”

You giggle and reach over to grab his face one more time before you pull away and pull a ring off from your finger; one your father had given you that carries this beautiful called The Gem of The Sea.

“This is my real favor,” you tell him and grab his hand to place the ring on his palm. “I want it back, okay? It’s really expensive and the gem is one of a kind.”

Cregan scoffs but he wraps his hand around the ring before he secures it in his pocket. “I’ll hang it around my chain later.”

You let out a deep breath and nod before you go still as you catch him sliding off a wolf brooch that was hooked to his cloak.

“And this is for you,” he lets you know and leans toward you to clip the brooch onto your fur cloak. “You’ll be a Stark soon, why not wear something that represents your new name?”

“And you?” You interject and offer him a giddy smile. “My betrothed?”

He huffs and drops his head to hide his smile. “Well yes because you’ll be all mine soon enough.” He says confidently as he meets your gaze with a smirk. “That’s why I will live, so you can at last be my wife.”

“I will be,” you whisper and glance at the wolf brooch to mutter, “now this will be like having you right beside me. Thank you. I’ll cherish it.”

“Good,” he says breathlessly before he lets out a deep breath and just takes you in for a lingering minute as the last rays of sun lose its grip on the earth and dance on your face.

He memorizes the color of your eyes, down to every small hue. He takes note of the form of your lips, of the curve of your cheeks, and the shape of your jaw as if he's afraid that if he doesn't take his time to mark every part of you in his memory he will forget the moment you were out of sight. He almost doesn’t want to keep his eyes off you, but once the sun is completely gone and the earth is completely cast in the darkness, you both stand up and walk away from your stolen moment to rejoin your army of men all ready to attack Tumbleton and the army of men occupying it to once and for all put an end to The Green army.

Yet how can you depart toward your dragon without offering them a few words of encouragement first? And once they see your presence upon that hill that overlooks them a wave of chills washes over them. Not because they fear you, but because they are filled with awe and respect at the sight of you in your glimmering black chainmail gown.

“I know,” you address the crowd as they go quiet upon the sight of your presence. “Today's attack came sooner than expected. We have been marching with little rest since we left the twins, but it’s not for nothing. Tonight we attack Tumbleton!” You proclaim and garner some murmurs. “Tonight we put an end to the Hightower army and the turncloaks that sit behind that wall! Us! Not just you, and not just me! All of us! You are the blood to my fire.”

“Yeah!” The men below bellow and throw their fists in the air.

“As you all know I am with child,” you continue. “But that won’t stop me, I will fight with you tonight upon my dragon. I will kill Prince Daeron Targaryen and his dragon tonight and be one step closer to ending the tyranny of his brother and faction!” You exclaim with a growl behind that threat. “Now I won’t lie, some of you won’t see daylight again. Some of you know that too, but your deaths won’t be in vain, you will bleed and die for your families, your homes, your lords! Your pride! And your Queen! Tonight we fight for her! We fight to win! We won’t lose tonight! We will win with fire and blood! Us! WE WILL WIN WITH WHATEVER IT TAKES! WITH FIRE AND BLOOD!”

“BLOOD DRAGON! BLOOD DRAGON!” All the men below implode into a cheer full of vigor, making chills crawl down your own spine as you watch them all pumped with adrenaline and ferocity.

“I’m going to join my squadron now,” Cregan interjects and snaps your attention to him, calming down your racing heart. “Be careful.”

You blink repeatedly before you rush to him to close the gap with an embrace. “Take care, okay? I can’t lose you too.”

Cregan hugs you back and presses a kiss on your head. “You won’t lose me.”

You let out a shaky breath and clutch onto him tighter. “Take care of Ser Cane for me, okay?”

He scoffs but nods to assure you. “I will…I love you.”

You smile softly and turn your head to press one last kiss on his cheek. “I love you too.”

You proceed to pull back and he cups your cheek one more time to linger in each other's presence for another moment before you both part ways, letting him join his men, and letting you join your dragon and Addam and his dragon.

“If things start to get too out of control you fly out there, okay?” Addam interjects the moment he sees you making your way to him. “And don’t be getting off your dragon for anything unless you really have to.”

Even though he’s scolding you, you still can’t help but flash him a giddy smile as he makes you feel such a warm feeling.

“I know, I know,” you roll out and meet him halfway. “You have told me multiple times. I will not involve myself in any heavy fighting, or fight on the ground. I know.”

Addam puts his hand on his hip and sighs. “Yes well, you like to be spontaneous and think about yourself.”

Your smile falls but you don’t get upset because no matter how harsh it is it’s true.

“Don’t think about yourself,” he presses and looks at you with concern. “Your son needs you and your mother needs you. Don’t let your anger consume you.”

You blink repeatedly as his words ache your heart.

“You be careful too,” you whisper to the ground. “I need you. And Alyn needs you.”

He scoffs and as you look up you see him nod softly. You proceed to reach over and grab his arm to gain his unwavering attention. “I love you, Addam. You are someone to me, and I wish we would have met sooner, but I am glad our paths crossed. You…saved me from drowning in my grief. Without you, I would have died in that lake waiting for a dead man to come back to life. I…wouldn’t be here if you weren’t in my life.”

Addam’s eyes fill to the brim with tears but only two single tears break out and roll down his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he whispers softly and offers you half a smile. “You know all my life I looked up at the world from the surface I was born in, it made me believe you were untouchable gods too high in the sky to care about anyone below you, but…when I too touched the clouds, when I met you…I see now that you are good. You have a good heart. You are a bit mad for liking the things you like, but you are like the sister I never had and I will always be thankful for that. I will always be thankful for you.”

Tears fill your eyes but you refuse to cry. You don't want to cry so you gnaw on your bottom lip and hold it all in.

“I love you too,” he redirects and closes the gap that was left between you to embrace you—“Be careful, okay?”

You nod as you hold onto him and whisper back. “I will. You be careful too.”

“I will,” he assures you before he pulls back and taps your chest with his fist, causing you to mirror his actions right back at him.

“I’ll see you up there,” you interject one more time, making him flash you a smile and offer you a nod before you both pull away from each other and mount your respected dragons.

“<Don’t worry girl,” you talk to Astraea as you click on your restraints—or as many as you can with your swollen belly in the way. “…today we won’t be the day we lose>.”

Astraea turns her head to look at you, making you offer her a gentle smile. “<Our fight won’t be over after this fight but we will be one step closer. You’ve been doing great>.”

Astraea growls and you can’t help but grin wider whilst you wrap your hands around the handles. When Astraea looks back at the dark sky you follow her line of gaze and take one last look at the serene night sky, taking note of the stars, and taking a deep breath of the brisk and clean air before you part your lips and mutter. “<Fly, Astraea.>”

Your she-dragon starts walking down slowly before she quickly picks up her pace, opens her giant purple wings, and then takes flight at the same time as Seasmoke, sending a signal to the army of men below to start running. Not marching, running.

You are so close to Tumbleton that you don’t want to risk being seen by any man. You want to stay under the cover of night and catch them by surprise so you rush, hitting the ground with thousands of claps of thunder as horses sprint through empty fields of grass.

The sky is silent, giving the illusion of a serene night, but looming threats cover the light of the stars and cast large shadows over the earth that fly past at an incredible speed.

A heightened rush of adrenaline connects you all as you get closer and closer to the grand battle, but nothing and you mean absolutely nothing matters but your anger. As if Daeron was solely at fault for all the pain you endured and everything that had happened all you can focus on is him and the rage that makes your blood and your heart thump violently.

You should keep your mind clear, you should fly into this war selflessly, after all, thousands of lives, and the lives of your mother, your son, and your brother depend on you to win this war, but there’s no fight with yourself when you choose to be selfish. You choose the blood-thirsty and raging anger. That’s all you hear. That’s all that fills you. It burns like the blasts of fire that rain down the moment you cross enemy lines and create chaos. And it’s all you see until there’s him; Daeron Targaryen standing in the midst of the army of his men.

His blond-silver hair stands out in between the storm of people all sent into a panic, and the wave of fires that wash over the army.

He stands there with his dark eyes on you and your raging dragon.

He stands there, Daeron Targaryen. He’s all you see and it makes your already heightened anger that more livid.

——

*A FEW YEARS AGO. KING’S LANDING*

The sun is high and beaming down fiercely. The breeze, when it does run, is hot, bringing with it waves of heat that run through your bodies and can’t cool down with any open window or fluttering fan, raising the already high tensions that are forever set between your families.

Yet no matter how high the tensions are, how many whispers are passed, and side glares are shot, none of that affects you, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, or Daeron.

Besides, today on the hottest day of summer is Daeron’s last day in the Red Keep. After today he will leave for Old Town until gods know when to become a ward…

.

.

.

.

A/N- For story purposes Daeron was apart of everyone’s childhoods, he won’t be forgotten here!

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

[how-serene]

Really wish I could send from my sideblog but could I request Brahms Heelshire with the prompt 'are you here to kill me?' please?

You can take that in any direction you want, I love him so much, he's my dirty wall-lurking ratboy and I love it when he's cute but also unhinged lmao when I saw him in the tags of your requests post my eyes lit up like the 4th of July and I knew I had to give this a shot~

Hold On Tight, Love

Pairing - Brahms Heelshire x Neutral!Reader

Summary - Tired of waiting, Brahms finally makes contact with you.

Word Count - 1k+

Warnings - no use of y/n, brahms being a creep, non-con touching, he technically holds reader hostage

A/N - AGHH thank you for requesting him dear anon! I've been wanting to write for him for a while but wasn't sure on an idea. It's such a shame the actual actor had such little screentime. I hope I did your idea justice, enjoy <3.

Brahms balled his fists, steeling his nerves as he quietly approached your sleeping form. Even in the dark, he could still make out the faint outline of the comforter hugging your body. The floorboards were cold beneath his bare feet, as he continued to shuffle forwards. Outside, the wind howled, harshly blowing through the towering pine trees that surrounded the house. Their long branches clustered around the bedroom window, shielding a view of the stars splattered against a jet black sky.

The wooden floorboards creaked beneath his weight, yet they did not disturb you. Brahms' could feel his heart rattling within his ribcage, as he carefully kneeled beside the bed. Soft snores fell from your plush lips, as a heavy arm was slung over the porcelain doll. His viridescent eyes raked over your dozing form, watching as your chest slowly rose and fell. 

Somehow, over the length of your short stay, this had become a nightly ritual for him. Watching as dreams danced through your head, masked behind your resting eyelids. You were at peace, the day’s tension temporarily falling away for the night

He sighed, leaning his cheek against the edge of the mattress. 

You nuzzled further into the pillow, hand sliding forward to hang over the edge of the mattress. His breath hitched from the movement, wide eyes wandering over your outstretched arm. Your flesh was so tantalizing close to him now, almost as if your body had subconsciously reached out to him. His hand trembled, as his fingers creeped over the covers to hover over your curled fist. The urge to reach out and grasp onto your hand was nauseating. He had painfully waited, stayed hidden and out of sight for so long. Peering at you through cracks in the walls, and keyholes. Watching glimpses of your presence float through the house, unaware of his looming existence. If it weren’t for the echoes of your footfalls walking through the halls, he would have believed you to be a ghost. A fragment of imagination the house (and him) had conjured up out of loneliness. What if touching you revealed your existence to be nothing more than a dream, a phantasm he so desperately wanted to believe in? 

A faint whisper left your lips, ineligible and gone before he could begin to decipher it. The longer he stared at you, he could feel the simmering ache, buried beneath years of solitude, bubble up to the surface. 

‘What if…’ he pondered, hand timidly creeping over the cover. The pad of his index finger grazed over the skin, trailing up the bridge of your pinky. He shuddered, a wistful sigh escaping through his teeth. The edge of his nail dragged over the bumps of your knuckles, memorizing the interwoven lines embedded in the skin. He hummed quietly to himself, warmth pooling in his stomach from the sensation of your soft skin against his. Brahms absentmindedly watched as his fingertips danced and drifted over your hand, tracing faint shapes. His heart threatened to leap out of his throat, and present its pulsing, grotesque body onto the bed for you. 

Brahms palm gently swept up your bare forearm, like a sculptor tracing the curves of its creation. Although, he never could have created you. You were radiance itself, something bright and warm in the otherwise desolate house. The stain of your shadow now forever resided in the halls and corridors. How could you expect him to keep his distance? 

He must have been so caught up in his head, for the next thing he knew his hand was flung back. 

“Who the fuck are you?” You demanded, distancing yourself from him. Brahms slowly rose from his position on the floor, watching your movements behind strands of disheveled brown curls that hung over his eyes. You leapt to the other side of the bed, arming yourself with a lamp that sat on your bedside table. 

“It’s alright.” He assured, cautiously stepping around the bed. His voice cracked, the high pitched tone he dawned nearly slipping. “Please, everything’s alright.” 

You pointed the lamp at him, a pathetic attempt to guard yourself. He cooed, false words of reassurance dripping from his lips like honey. Brahms sounded like a lover, uttering words of comfort to his lover after waking from a nightmare. 

Even through your haze filled head, the adrenaline pumping through your veins was enough to alert you that you were far from safe. 

“Put that down.” He ordered, voice dropping a few octaves. The veil was thinning, and becoming harder to wear the more you shied away from him. 

You swung the lamp, throwing the shade off in the process. “Stay away from me.” 

Brahms frantically shook his head. “Please, don’t ask me to do that.” 

The lamp was hastily thrown at him, as you dodged his arms trying to swing around your frame. You climbed onto the bed, feet coming tangled with the disordered sheets in the dark room. He groaned, kicking the now broken object to the side.

Brahms wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You thrashed around in his secured hold, digging your elbow into his ribs. He groaned in discomfort, the pain only encouraging him to hold onto you tighter. 

“Let me go!”

He maneuvered to sit on the bed, bringing you down with him to sit on his lap. His burly arms entrapped you, cradling your struggling figure against his chest. 

“Dammit, who are you?” You asked again, eyes glancing up to meet his gaze. Your eyes swept over the porcelain like mask he wore, now being able to see it more properly up close. All movement ceased from you, as recognition flickered in your pupils. You peeked over at the undisturbed doll, peacefully resting against your pillow. The smooth, pale ceramic face eerily resembled the mask belonging to the strange man. 

He swallowed, the sweet fruity scent of your shampoo blurring his surroundings. The tip of his nose bumped against your cheek, cool porcelain causing goosebumps to form on your skin. He inhaled, letting out a deep guttural groan as the citrusy aroma of oranges wafted into his nose. You grimaced, and pulled back from him. 

“Are you…” You licked your lips, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the answer. “Are you Brahms?” 

He nodded, cheek rubbing against the back of your hair. A beat of silence passed between you two. 

“Are you here to kill me?” You quietly asked, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. He could feel you trembling, despite being pressed up against his warm, sweaty skin. 

“No, no.” He soothed, beginning to rock you in his arms. “I could never do that.” 

His fingertips dug into your skin, trying to comfort you. 

The rest of the night was spent in Brahms iron steel hold, waiting anxiously for dawn to break through the line of branches covering the bedroom window. The doll, quiet and still as ever, watched as the night dragged on and on. 

Endlessly.

[valgodd]

You sit in the waiting room of the doctors office, nervously fidgeting your hands. It’s time for the annual health check up. You sure had a good year, the trousers digging into your belly are proof of that.

A nurse calls your name. Are you imagining things, or did she she do a double take when she saw you, her eyes lingering slightly over your pudgy mid section? She offers you a polite, professional smile though, and lead you into the office.

The doctor, a graying fit man man in his late fifties, sits behind his desk, endorsed in paper work.

”Welcome mr/ms Y/N” he murmurs. He glances at you over his spectacles, his eyes sweeping over your red, round cheeks, budding double chin and protrouding belly. ”Well you certainly look… healthy. Shall we get started?” He gestures towards an old fashioned manual steele scale. You step on it with a loud *clonk*. The doctor raises an eyebrow and adjusts the metal weight until the scale is in balance. He looks in his notes and scoffs, almost sounding amused.

”Well well… you were close to underweight last time we weighed you. Now however… you seem to have fattened up quite nicely.”

You swallow, feeling very self concious.

”H-how much have I gained?”

”It seems to be… almost sixteen kilos”

”Sixteen kilos?” That was more than you had expected. 

”Sixteen kilos” the doctor confirms ”Thats… quite much in just a years time.”

”Well there obviously must me something wrong with your scale” you say with an akward laugh. The doctor smirks. ”The scale is perfectly fine, I asssure you. Any… changes of habits recently?”

”Well…” you are tempted to lie, but the doctor looks at you sternly. 

”Well what?”

”Uhm I guess I… relaxed a bit recently” you admit ”I-I moved in with my partner… They’ve been cooking a lot for me… And I haven’t gone to the gym as… frequently as I used to” your voice trails off.

”Uhuh. That explains alot, doesnt it? Well, last time I saw you, you were a scrawny little thing and you sure needed to put on a few. Sixteen kilos though… That’s overdoing it. You need to get rid of that gut” the doctor pats your tummy condencendingly. 

”Yes doc” you say and and clench your jaws. How could you have let yourself go like this? Why didn’t anybody tell you you were getting so big?

”We should measure your body fat to, dear. Pull up your shirt for me, will you?”

You reluctantly pull up your shirt and reveal a pale, squishy midsection.  The doctor takes a metal clisp and take a firm grip on your belly roll between his thumb and indexfinger. You feel the cold metal against your skin, and winces as the clisp pinches you.

”Godness me…” he murmurs. You swallow. ”Well you certainly haven’t been starving” the doctor chuckles as he scribbles down some notes in his papers. ”So… tell your partner to cut down on the butter and cream in their cooking. It really isnt doing you any favours. Maybe go on some brisk walks together. By next year, I want to see you trimmed down. Okay?”

You nod and manage a polite smile.

After the meeting, your partner meets you up outside the doctors office. They give you brief kiss on the lips and squeeze your sides. 

”How was the doctors appointment love?”

”Well…”

”You look upset, is everything alright?”

You sigh.

”Well the doctor told me I had gained too much weight” you murmur.

”Oh love…”

”Yeah… god it was so humiliating” you press your palms against your eyes, feeling tears burn under your eyelids. Your partner pulls you into an embrace.

”My poor baby… Hey hey…. Shh… Its okay, its okay... We’ve had a good year, haven’t we? Its been so nice to see you eat whatever you want, to your hearts content. I would hate him to ruin that for you love”

You nod, sniveling. Your partner strokes your belly in calming circles.

”Screw him. Tell you what love” your partner lowers their voice to a whisper ”I just made your favourite eclairs. The ones with chocolate cream. Why dont we go home and have some?”  

You can’t help but light up.

”Oh yes those are my favourite” you murmur longingly with a moan, feeling your mouth water. 

”Hey I knew that would put a smile on your  face” you partner chuckles and pinches your chubby cheek lovingly ”Lets go home dear, let me take care of you”

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(I am so happy to find someone writing for Trails women, thank you for existing)

So, there was an ask about Gundam heavy arms custom. And Cold Steel literally has humanoid mechs. So how about a NC7 Student S/O who does these crazy machinegun acrobatics in a Panzer Soldat, with Juna, Altina, Musse, and Rean(platonic, because Teacher/Student is bad civilisation).

(Trails of Cold Steel) Juna, Altina, Musse, and Rean watching Reader's Soldat perform insane acrobatics

On the Rean teacher/student part, absolutely based.

First of all, Juna didn't even know Panzer Soldats could even jump into the air like that.

Second of all, WHAT?!

(Juna) "H-Hey, are you done showing off?! How did you even do that anyways?!"

Juna is more annoyed than anything.

Okay so MAYBE it was pretty cool, but there's no need to do that kind of showmanship in a damn training exercise!

(Juna) "Stop trying to make the rest of us look lame, S/O!"

She pouts a little in both annoyance, and jealousy.

Altina blinks twice at the sight.

(Altina) "(Y/N), that was entirely unecessary."

Altina did not care that her classmate just performed an impossible feat on a several ton mech.

It was flamboyant to the point of reminding her of Millium.

And she did not like anything that reminded her of Millium.

(Altina) "Please do not risk hurting yourself or the Panzer Soldat during training, (Y/N)."

Her robotic voice requested, brow slightly furrowing.

Musse can't help but clap at the show she just witnessed.

(Musse) "Impressive, S/O! You certainly know how to make an entrance!"

Oh yeah, it was extra as hell but Musse has to give respect where it's due!

She wouldn't want to do the same, surprisingly, since that was a good way to get shot during an actual combat situation.

But in times like this, it made her proud that she could call S/O hers.

(Musse) "Think you can teach me that? I'd like to impress our dear Instructor as well!"

Rean and Valimar just watch in complete disbelief as (Y/N) landed in front of him, inside a giant robot.

(Valimar) "Was that necessary?"

(Rean) "Uh, I think the better question we need to ask is how?!"

Rean has seen a lot of stupid stunts pulled in his short life, but this probably took the cake.

At least until next week, before Musse or Ashe tries anything else anyway.

Rean crosses his arm inside the cockpit shaking his head.

(Rean) "Alright, so you can move pretty quickly. But that doesn't give you an advantage in combat whatsoever!"

(Y/N) "But Instructor Rean, you fly in with Valimar all the time!"

(Rean) "Because he's a Divine Knight! He's powered by...-"

Rean just sighs loudly as he facepalms.

(Rean) "Look, as your Instructor, I cannot in good conscience let you put yourself in that kind of needless danger! Tita is probably going to have to do all sorts of repairs on the legs from that landing alone!"

(Y/N) "...But it was still pretty cool right?"

(Rean) "...See me after Class, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) sigh "Yes, Instructor..."

[hinge]

A growing resource addressing LGBTQIA+ daters' most pressing questions

[jooillusion]

hii :)))

so that photo of seungmin's back... isn't like gym sex perfect for him? like he clearly knowing that he's being watched and then flex even more and in the end we end up in the locker room... i mean, this man makes want to scratch and mark all his back 🤭

-🎱

YESSS OMG

seungmin literally has the prettiest body and i feel like he loves to show off a little (his bubble ARF ARF ARF)

ugh just imagine working at the front desk of the gym and he’d come in every day. you got the perfect view of him working out, watching his biceps bulge when he lifts weights and his back muscles fill out when he does chest presses. you wouldn’t even notice when another person had walked in and it became a common occurrence for your coworker having to scold you for not paying attention.

the first time be caught you looking, you thought it’d be the only time, your eyes quickly looking down and you having to pretend like you’re something behind the counter. when you thought the coast was clear you look up again, catching him smiling at you and shaking his head in amusement.

it became a repetitive thing though, him either glancing at you looking at him through the mirror at you watching or turning his head to see if you saw that. you still pretended to have shame though, only looking when he wasn’t paying that much attention towards you.

the more you stared though the more the warnings piled up. your boss appointed you to clean the locker rooms for the rest of the week and you were disappointed since you couldn’t get your fill of entertainment. you sweep the tile floors, cursing at your boss under your breath for having to make you clean the locker room that seemed never ending.

you were finally in the last row, wiping the sweat that beaded across your forehead, glancing at the clock that was perched on the wall, noticing that it was way past the usual time the stranger—seungmin you think due to looking at his membership—would show up and leave. you shake your head, continuing to sweep to pass by time.

“excuse me?” you hear from behind your shoulder. the voice irritated you even more since you left a sign outside of the locker room door to indicate that it was closed for now. your breathe in before turning around.

“sorry but the locker room isn’t…” you trail off, the voice belonging to him. your stop dead in your tracks, his shirt off and a light drops of sweat rolling down his arms. your eyes trail downwards, looking at his toned stomach. your eyes scan the ink that adorns his rib and finally down to the deep v-line that is cut off by his gym shorts that loosely rest low on his hips. you clear your throat again, shaking your head to regain focus. “the locker room isn’t open right now.”

you can’t tell whether or not the smile on his face is either friendly or cocky, but he looks down to the floor, leaning against the cold steel of the lockers before he looks back up at you.

“you should at least let me get my shirt out of my locker.”

“excuse me?” you scoff, setting the broom down.

“you know, with all the staring you do. do you have any humility?” he laughs, walking past you and stopping once he reaches his locker. “seungmin, by the way. did you enjoy the seungmin show?”

your words are caught in the back of your throat and you’re stuck with stuttering out an excuse. seungmin watches, digging inside of his locker for the shirt and mindlessly nodding, pulling his sleeveless shirt over his head. the slam of the small locker door shutting stops anymore words from leaving your mouth.

“maybe get a video next time, pretty girl. it’ll save you some of the trouble.” seungmin winks, walking past you and leaving you behind with a dropped jaw.

UGH AND imagine after that you haven’t stared at him since and it pisses him off a little bit. seungmin likes your attention obviously and it’d be easier to tease you the next time he runs into you, maybe asking you was his form perfect or ask you how many pull ups he did as if you knew.

but he couldn’t even do that, since he watched you like a hawk through the mirror and you haven’t looked up from your computer once, the only time being is when you would welcome people in.

yeah, seungmin was pissed.

he watches your boss tell you something that he can’t hear, watching you leave from behind the counter to grab your broom and dustpan. you made sure to show your frustrations, placing the big “locker rooms closed” sign outside of the room.

but seungmin will just do like he did last time, walk right past the sign to get his shirt from his locker.

you on the other hand is not too please when you hear footsteps again for the third time, slowly getting more and more frustrated due to the gym head bastards ignoring the big ass sign you put outside of the locker room. you inhale, ready to put bass inside of your voice at the fourth—and hopefully last—person to enter the locker room, but your words are stuck yet again at the sight of seungmin.

he looks a bit different than when you last saw him a few weeks ago, his body slightly bulkier and his abs more defined. you shut your eyes trying to show self restraint, taking another deep inhale before looking at him one more time.

“you know you can’t be in here. please leave.”

“i just want my shirt.” he says, almost emotionless. you roll your eyes.

“make it quick.” you say and he nods, walking past you to his locker. he eyes you, watching you go back to sweeping and completely ignoring his presence. it bruises his ego a little bit, but he keeps his mouth shut as he pulls his shirt over his head.

“wait,” you stop sweeping, turning around. seungmin raises an eyebrow. “can i have a little feel?”

seungmin’s somewhat bruised pride swells again. “where?”

“here?” your hand comes up to his bicep. he turns his arm towards you and curls his arm, the muscles of his arms bulging as he flexes. you give it a squeeze, your eyes widening. “you’re really strong.”

“oh yeah?” you nod your head, your hands traveling up and down his arm, giving small squeezes on the firm muscles. “you know what else i can lift?”

“what?”

seungmin moves, turning completely towards you and grabbing your waist. he lifts you off of your feet, gasping once he pushes your back against the lockers, your legs wrapping around his torso so you wouldn’t fall.

“i’ve been wanting to do this ever since i caught you in here last time.” seungmin says just above whisper, his sweatpants growing tight in the front once his mind is able to register your clothed heat against his pelvis. he knew you two had been painfully attracted to one another, but he didn’t dare make another move until your eyes were on his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, making it crystal clear that you both wanted this.

your hands run over his broad shoulders and down the smooth skin his back, “but what if another person walks in?”

“then let them. it’ll probably be the highlight of their day.” you both share a chuckle that evaporates into the air.

seungmin buries his face into the flesh of your neck, his flexed arms burning. he doesn’t mind the burn, blaming it on himself for only focusing on arm workouts today, but your warmth and hushed breaths pay for it, leaving seungmin no room to complain.

your head falls against the locker with a thump, trying to distract yourself from the orgasm building up. seungmin angles his hips at a better angle, his cock deliciously hitting your g spot, making you squeal a little too loudly. your nails bite deep down in the flesh his shoulder blades to his back, raking over the scratches you had left not that long ago.

seungmin couldn’t hold back the sharp hiss and whine that’d been bubbling up in his throat, his hips snapping into you, shuddering at the cold air that tickles the raw scratches. his flush palms dig into your waist, holding you tighter when he feels your walls clench around him. “god, you feel so good.” he breathes out, lapping at your neck before roughly biting into it.

you feel your heartbeat throbbing out of your chest, the heavy thumps beating through your ears in contrast with the sound of seungmin’s hips meeting the back of your thighs. you pant, arms swings around seungmin’s marked shoulders as you pull him in close, panting hot onto the skin.

seungmin feels your body tense under the flex of his fingers, moving you up and down to match the movement of his hips. he roughly pushes you against the lockers in response to the tug of your warm, tightening walls, bleaching his mind blank. you’re too far gone to notice and he’s just as desperate as you, fucking you like his life depended on it as he chases his orgasm that blooms in the pit of his stomach.

the harsh thrust that seungmins hips deliver is all your orgasm needs, the loud wail that comes straight from your throat rings through seungmins ear like a bell. it’s your body’s turn to shudder as it comes undone, your eyebrows knitting together and seungmins palm covering your open mouth.

“i still need to cum.” he says weakly between breaths, sliding down your body and back to your waist. his still hips began to thrust into you again, slow enough to not overstimulated you too much but still pleasurable enough for him.

your legs snugly wrap around his torso. his hand over your mouth muffles the mewls that escape your lips, giving one, two more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you in thick ropes.

seungmins head falls into the steel lockers behind you. he heavily pants into your clothed shoulder, his hands offering soft squeezes into the meat of your waist. you two stay like that for god knows however long, blissed out and completely unaware of the everything around you. he pulls away once his breathing steadies, lifting you up gently to pull you off his length. he helps you pull up your trousers and steady yourself before pulling up his own.

“are you guys finally done?” a voice calls from one of the far rows of the room. and you know that loud, annoying voice that likes to bitch from anywhere—it belongs to your boss.

please remember that this is a work of pure fiction.

[catcze]

It’s Halloween soon, so here’s a Halloween au idea for you: Wriothesley and gn reader as Little red riding hood and the big bad wolf

OH. OH. OHHH IM BARKING BARKGIN ASDNASDKA

Imagine that it's supposed to be any other day for you. You pack your basket full of bread, jams, cold cuts and cheese, and don your red hood and your walking shoes, ready to set out to your friend Neuvillette's house by the lake in the forest. He's a bit of a recluse— he doesn't often venture into the city unless summoned directly, so you often come to say hello so he doesn't get too lonely.

The problem is, on your way there, you got delayed by a while. So when you get to the forest, you debate between using your usual, longer path that merely circles the forest, or one that pases directly though the woods. On your usual path, you'd get to Neuvillette's house late in the afternoon return home well in the evening. If you cut through the forest, though... you were certain you'd arrive on time. Earlier, even. So you gulp, steel yourself, and take your first step into the trees.

It's fine at first. A cooler walk than had you been under the sun, thanks to the shade of the leaves. But then you begin to hear the crunch of leaves behind you, as if there was something trailing behind... you quicken your pace, too fearful to look behind. But as you hurry your steps, so does the rustling and the crunching of leaves and twigs grow quicker as well.

Eventually, you're damn near running through the forest, taking turns, breathing hard and barely able to hold on to your basket. The steps follow you the until... they fall behind, then fade, then disappear. You quickly run behind a tree, leaning against it and catching your breath. When you peek out, you see there's nothing behind you and breathe a great big sigh of relief. Whatever animal was chasing you probably lost interest, you think, turning around and taking a few steps forward—

Then suddenly there's a grip on your hood, yanking you back so hard you stumble back onto the ground. "Hey—!" you yell, only to quiet when you realize who (or what) is standing before you. A man, quite tall, with spiky black hair and sharp blue eyes. There's a frown on his face and a furrow to his brow. Amidst the fluff of his hair, you make out... wolf ears? When you peek a little, you can see a similar wolf tail swinging behind him as well.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Is the first thing the wolf says to you, a brow raised as he crosses your arms. "Running all over the place, causing a ruckus. Not looking where you're stepping." His attitude immediately turns your fear into indignance, and you rise up, pointing a finger at his (admittedly rather sculpted, you can see the definition even though the top he wears) chest.

"You!" You yell, and the volume has his ears twitching. "You were the one chasing me? You gave me a heart attack!"

He snorts. "I was saving you, Red. Not every day a human wanders in here. Most of you fear the dark and the unknown too much to ever step foot in the woods."

"Oh, so scaring the shit out of me is saving me now?"

He rolls his eyes, crouching down to take a large, hefty stone in his hand. Lifting it like it weighs nothing, he tosses it at the place where your foot had almost been—

Snap!

You watch in horror as a rusted old animal trap snaps around the stone with such force that the metal contraption jumps. You gulp, just thinking of what could have happened to you.

"Those are everywhere," says the wolf by explanation, looking at the hunting trap with disgust. "Left a long, long time ago by crueler humans. We try to remove them where we can, but—" he shrugs, "—The forest is a big place."

You can't take your eyes away from the trap, feeling sick to your stomach. You clutch your hood closer to you, a safety blanket of sorts, and feel your hands tremble.

"Th... thank you," you tell him, sincerely.

He just shrugs again. "So. Why are you here? It's unlike you. You're usually seen on the human path, not passing through the forest."

And that snaps you back. You frantically check the contents of your basket, sighing when you see that nothing spilled or broke.

"I'm here because it was getting late and I have to see Neuvillette, so i thought i could take a shortcut" you say. Then your eyebrows furrow. " 'Usually?' " you echo.

"Humans aren't around here often, like I said. You're one of the few that come on a regular basis, though." He kicks away the trap with his foot, feet heading in one direction. You, however, stay rooted to your spot, watching the way his tail swishes as he walks. When he realizes you aren't following, he turns back.

"What, you wanna try getting around on your own? I thought you were late to see Neuvillette." He prompts, and you gasp, hastily bounding (and being careful of where you step, this time) up to his side. you both walk in pace, the wolf leading the way and you trailing slightly behind.

It's... odd. You've never even met him before, but there's something about him that makes you feel comfortable relying on him like this. Relying on him to get you where you need to go, and not lead you into another trap.

"So..." you attempt to ask. "You know Neuvillette?"

"For a similar reason to how we know of you. He's one of the few odd enough to set their place up somewhere like this," he says.

The rest of the trek through the woods is rather comfortably quiet, sometimes broken by you asking a question, and the wolf answering. You learn a few things about him: that he hasn't always been here, but that he came early in his childhood and lived here ever since. That he rather likes the sunshine. And, funny enough, that he also likes bread with honey and jam on it, if the way he took the symbol of your gratitude is any indication.

But eventually the trees give way and you can see Neuvillette's house in the distance. And you're right on time, too! You smile widely in delight, gripping your basket tighter. You turn to the wolf, who leans on the trunk of a tree leisurely, ears twitching atop his head.

"Thank you for saving me. And for showing me the way," you tell him, smiling gently.

The corners of his lips curl up, just a bit. "You're welcome. Be more careful when you walk through the woods, next time. You never know if there might actually be something out there trying to eat you."

You laugh, ducking your head to hide your face behind your hood, just a little. "Noted, mister wolf."

"Or better yet, you can just save us both the trouble and call for me if you want a shortcut," says the wolf, a large hand gently pushing at the small of your back, nudging you on your way. "I'll hear it, don't worry."

"Oh?" you ask, a quirk to your lips as you turn back at him, draped in shadows. "And what might your name be, big bad wolf?"

You see the gleam of his grin. "You can call me Wriothesley, Red."

[yoomiwrites]

Missing Ghost³

Summary: After losing her memory in a storm, a young Marine remembers only the name “Mihawk” and sets out to find him, convinced he holds the key to her past. As she sharpens her skills and follows his trail across countless ports, Mihawk is always just out of reach. Finally, she arrives at a port where his ship waits, knowing her answers are close.

Note: I need to update my work / pinned thingy. But I am waaaaay to lazy to do so now. Maybe later. Anyways, here we go, the next chapter of this story! It's not easy at all to picture how Mihawk behaves, so pls bear with me. Again, I can't give any promise on when I'll update this again but if we hit 30 reactions, the next chapter should come soon!

The port town was a labyrinth of noise and chaos, bustling with merchants, sailors, and the occasional mercenary weaving through the crowded streets. Every step I took felt heavy, my eyes darting over every face, every corner, searching. I had no plan, no strategy beyond following the tug in my chest that pulled me forward, a feeling that whispered he was close.

The whispers from the crowd had grown louder the further I moved into the town.

“Did you see him?”

“He cut them down like it was nothing—”

“Hawk Eyes Mihawk...he’s here.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening as I pushed through the throng. The streets led me toward the edge of town, where the noise shifted from bustling trade to something sharper—shouts, cries, and the unmistakable clang of steel. My feet carried me closer before I even realized it, my heart pounding louder with each step.

And then I saw him.

Dracule Mihawk stood amidst the carnage, his black cloak flowing around him like the wings of a predator. His sword, massive and imposing, gleamed in the dim light as it cut through the last pirate standing, a clean, effortless motion. Blood spattered the ground around him, bodies crumpled at his feet, but his expression was calm, almost detached, as though the chaos around him was nothing more than a passing nuisance.

For a moment, I froze, unable to breathe. I knew him. Not just the name or the reputation, but something deeper, like a half-remembered melody finally coming into focus. His piercing golden eyes swept the crowd, sharp and calculating, and then they found me.

Our eyes locked.

My breath hitched. Something stirred within me—a pull so strong it felt like it might drag me forward against my will. My body moved before my mind could catch up, weaving through the bloodied scene as if the danger didn’t exist, as if the corpses littering the street were invisible.

He watched me, unmoving, his gaze unwavering as I drew closer. There was no fear in me, not even hesitation. The tug in my chest grew stronger with every step, guiding me toward him like a thread pulling me home.

The stench of blood thickened as I reached him, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. Up close, he was even more imposing than I remembered—or imagined. His face was sharp, chiseled, his eyes unreadable yet filled with a weight I couldn’t name.

For a moment, the world seemed to still.

“It’s a surprise you’re alive,” he said at last, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “For a stupid, clumsy Marine.”

His tone was cold, biting, but there was something beneath it—something I couldn’t name. Relief, maybe? I wouldn’t have noticed even if it had been more obvious; all I could feel was the strange pull toward him, as if I’d finally found the one solid thing in a world I didn’t remember.

My lips parted, but no words came. What could I say? That I’d been looking for him, chasing a shadow, convinced he held the key to a past I couldn’t recall? That the sound of his voice stirred something in me that felt almost like belonging?

Instead, I simply stared, the silence between us stretching as the blood of the slain pirates pooled at our feet.

Mihawk’s golden eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, unreadable, before he turned without a word, Yoru slung across his back like a silent guardian. His boots crunched against the bloodied ground as he began to walk away, as though the entire scene—the corpses, the chaos, and me—meant nothing to him.

I blinked, momentarily stunned, before my feet moved on instinct. “Wait!”

He didn’t stop, didn’t even glance back. Determined, I hurried after him, weaving through the crowd that had started to gather at a cautious distance. The people parted for him like waves around a ship, their hushed whispers trailing behind him.

“Stop walking away from me!” I demanded, raising my voice, though it wavered slightly under the weight of his presence. “You called me a Marine. What do you mean by that?”

No response. His pace was steady, unbothered, like I wasn’t even there.

“I know you,” I pressed, desperation seeping into my tone. “Don’t I? You wouldn’t have let me live otherwise… Right?”

Still nothing. His silence made my chest tighten, but I refused to back down. “Say something!”

Finally, he slowed, just enough for me to catch up to his side. I looked up at him, trying to read the sharp angles of his face, but his expression remained impassive.

“You know something about me,” I insisted, walking briskly to match his long strides. “You have to. Otherwise, why would you…?” I gestured vaguely behind us, to the battlefield he’d left in his wake.

He stopped abruptly, and I nearly stumbled to avoid bumping into him. His gaze swept over me, piercing and calculating, as though he were dissecting every word I’d said. I shifted under the intensity, suddenly aware of how much smaller I felt beside him.

“You don’t remember,” he said finally, his voice low but firm, as if stating a fact he had just confirmed.

I frowned. “Remember what?”

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—something almost like recognition mixed with irritation. “Anything,” he said, more a statement than a question.

“I remember…” I hesitated, unsure how to explain the fractured pieces of my memory. “I remember waking up on a beach. No one knew who I was, not even me. But I…” My voice trailed off, searching his face for a reaction. “I knew your name. And now, seeing you, I know you. I don’t know why, but I do.”

Mihawk regarded me silently, his gaze as sharp as the blade on his back. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t reply, but then he asked, “What else?”

“What else?” I echoed, confused.

“What else do you remember?”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his question pressing down on me. “Not much,” I admitted. “Just… flashes. A storm. The sea. And you. I’ve been searching for you ever since I remembered your name. It’s all I’ve had to go on.”

His expression didn’t change, but there was a subtle shift in his posture, a tension that hadn’t been there before. He was piecing something together; I could see it in the slight narrowing of his eyes, the faint tilt of his head.

“You really don’t remember anything,” he murmured, more to himself than to me.

I shook my head. “I don’t even know why I’m here. Why I’ve been chasing you for so long. But you know something, don’t you?”

Mihawk’s gaze held mine for a long moment, and for the first time, I thought I saw a flicker of something human beneath his icy exterior. A shadow of doubt, or maybe… curiosity?

Finally, he turned away, his voice calm but edged with finality. “If you’ve forgotten, it’s no longer my concern.”

“No!” I grabbed his arm without thinking, my grip firm despite the tremor in my hands. He looked down at me, one brow arching in faint surprise, but he didn’t pull away.

“I don’t care if it’s not your concern,” I said, forcing steel into my voice. “You’re the only one who knows anything about me. And I’m not letting you walk away until you tell me.”

His expression hardened, but he didn’t shake me off. Instead, he studied me again, his eyes sweeping over me as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface.

“Tell me what you remember of the storm,” he said, his voice quieter this time, almost contemplative.

I frowned, unsure why it mattered but willing to cling to anything that might give me answers. “There’s not much,” I said slowly. “The waves were huge. My ship—if it was even mine—was breaking apart. I remember clinging to something, and then… nothing. Just darkness. When I woke up, I was on a beach, and everything was gone. My past, my name, everything.”

Mihawk’s gaze grew distant, his jaw tightening as though he were wrestling with something unspoken. Then he let out a soft scoff, shaking his head.

“You were more trouble than you were worth back then,” he muttered, his tone almost bitter. But there was a faint edge of something else—something softer—buried beneath the words. “It seems that hasn’t changed.”

I frowned, unsure whether to be offended or relieved. “So you do know me.”

He didn’t answer, but the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth told me enough. He turned again, starting to walk away.

“Hey!” I called, jogging to catch up. “Where are you going now?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “If you’re so desperate for answers,” he said, his tone as sharp as Yoru’s edge, “you’ll have to keep up.”

And just like that, he was moving again, leaving me to scramble after him once more.

The silence between us stretched, heavy and suffocating as I trailed after Mihawk. My questions had grown quieter with each unanswered attempt, his cold indifference wearing down my resolve. His steps were steady, unyielding, as if no force in the world could sway him.

Eventually, my voice gave out entirely. I stopped asking. The only sound left was the crunch of boots against the dirt road and the faint hum of the town fading behind us.

Mihawk led us to a secluded spot near the cliffs, where the restless sea stretched endlessly before us. He moved with practiced ease, lowering himself to sit against the trunk of a lone tree. His massive blade, Yoru, rested beside him, its hilt gleaming faintly in the waning sunlight. Without a word, he tipped his hat forward to shield his face, his body language making it abundantly clear that he intended to rest—and that he had no intention of speaking further.

I frowned, standing a few paces away, unwilling to let him dismiss me so easily. “You can’t just ignore me,” I said, crossing my arms. “Not after all this.”

He didn’t even lift his head. “I can,” he said simply, his tone low and unbothered. “And I am.”

My fists clenched. “I’ve been chasing you for years! You clearly know something about me—why won’t you just tell me?”

He let out a quiet, exasperated sigh, tilting his hat back just enough to reveal one sharp, golden eye. “I don’t care about your search for answers,” he said, his voice cold and measured. “And you should consider yourself fortunate that I don’t find your presence intolerable. Yet.”

The word hung in the air, a warning, and I felt a chill crawl down my spine. For a moment, I thought about turning away, giving up. But something in me refused to let go, the pull toward him stronger than ever.

“Why don’t you mind my presence?” I asked softly, taking a step closer. “If you really didn’t care, you could have killed me back there. So why didn’t you?”

His gaze lingered on me, unreadable, before he tipped his hat back down. “You wouldn’t understand even if I told you,” he muttered.

I opened my mouth to argue, but then he spoke again, cutting me off.

“Your name is Y/N.”

I froze, the words hitting me like a jolt of lightning. “What…?”

“You asked for something,” he said, his tone growing sharper. “There it is. Y/N. It’s your name.”

My breath caught. Hearing it felt like a key turning in a long-locked door, a fragment of something lost slotting into place.

“That’s my name?” I whispered, the sound foreign yet familiar on my tongue.

“Yes,” Mihawk replied flatly, already tipping his hat lower again as if that settled the matter. “Now leave me to rest.”

I wanted to say more, to ask a thousand questions that burned on the tip of my tongue, but his tone brooked no argument. For now, I swallowed the flood of emotions welling up inside me and took a hesitant step back, clutching the name he had given me like a lifeline.

Y/N. My name was Y/N. And whatever lay ahead, I wouldn’t let him bury the answers again.

[deviouz]

OKAY SO LIKE idk if you take requests anymore but I need this done so bad and I love your writing so like imagine Jason Todd being adopted and raised by Catwoman and the reader by Batman as robin like a girl robin and basically Jason needs info or wtv and he defeats the reader in a battle or something and handcuffs her and like seduces her for it and reader's usually had super high morals and stuff but she's like simping over him and melts for him practically but idk something like tht like cat women and Batman but roles reversed but yea

Totally get if this is like weird too much though lmao

here’s a lil drabble while i make my way through other requests <3 thank you lovie!! also, jason’s name didn’t really come up, so i guess you can imagine it as whoever? i did write with jason in mind though!! ;; soz

role reversal !

“Come on, I know you can spit it out. The old man can’t be that important to you.”

It was hard to fight off the embarrassed blush as you jerked your wrists from behind your back, the cold bite of steel a painful reminder of the predicament you had found yourself in. The fight was long and drawn out, having left both of you breathless for a while before your captor had gotten the upper hand. It was times like this you really wished you had paid more attention to your father’s teachings about how to get out of precarious circumstances as this one.

How the hell were you supposed to dislocate your thumb and slip out of the handcuffs again?

Being Robin had given you quite the ego. It hadn't really occurred to you that getting captured was a possibility. Batman had shown you every trick in the book on how not to get caught.

Your opponent was as sly as a fox, though. He was quick on his feet, definitely hard to defeat. It was when you had the upper hand, or believed so, that the rug was quickly pulled out from under you, sharp smile and all.

Silence would be your best friend. There was no way in hell you were going to divulge any information that could be used against either yourself or your family — you’d sooner die than allow that to happen.

It was when he had made way to pluck the black mask shielding your eyes did you move, head jerking to the side while a noise of disapproval escaped your throat.

“Don’t touch me.”

He kneeled before you, lips curled into a smirk as a hand trailed from your knee to the middle of your thigh. Your suit was thin, meant more for agility than anything. It was nothing compared to the protective kevlar of the Batsuit. Stealth was your strong suit, and it turns out lingering touches from a man clad in a catsuit was your kryptonite.

“Don’t be like that. We can have fun! I promise I’ll make it worth your time,” he practically purred, voice smooth and intoxicating. “Just tell me what you know.”

Had your heart always beat this fast? Did he drug you? Maybe it was the lack of sleep finally catching up, the deprivation rearing its ugly head at the worst possible time.

“I thought I told you not to touch me,” you quipped back with a clenched jaw. Hands balled into fists and eyes narrowed, you were a sight for sore eyes. “How about you take these cuffs off and we go for a round two, hm?”

He had the audacity to giggle like it was the funniest thing in the world. The hand on your thigh began to inch upwards once more.

“Darling,” God, did that sound pretty rolling off the tip of his tongue, “any round two that we have will be somewhere with some nice booze and a bed, and maybe with soundproof walls depending on how loud I can get you.”

You were stronger than this, surely. Anything to protect Gotham and the people inhabiting it. You wouldn’t lose your nerve to a man with pretty words knelt before you.

“I can give you what you want, you know. Think of it like a trade; you give me the information I need, and I’ll have you screaming my name for all of Gotham to hear. Fair?”

As his touch began to grow more bold, warm hands slowly parting your thighs as he moved in between them, you knew you had to act fast. Resolve could only last so long, especially when coupled with a nighttime job known as being Robin — you were long overdue for something devious and a long nap.

Mustering up what little restraint remained, your foot raised to kick him back, momentarily leaving him a breathless heap of muscle and suave on the ground before you.

“You really don’t listen well.”

[hinge]

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