#what better proof of his loyalty did they need?

[sisididis]

Reading "The Mark of Athena" is not for the weak.

[yanphobia]

Athazagoraphobia - Chapter 9

Athazagoraphobia: The fear of forgetting, and being forgotten.

Pairing: Yandere Male Merman OC x Reader

Warnings (for the entire story): Yandere, Horror, Graphic Discriptions of Injury and Death, The Ocean, Body Horror, NonCon Touching, Dubcon, Female Reader, Extreme Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Chapter 8 Index Chapter 10

Author's Note: Slowly building up to the climax* @creepysweetie @my2phetaliaheadcanons @smolnuggie911 @spicylove4ever @acaribeau @mel-vaz

The barracuda flailed helplessly in your grasp, a pathetic attempt to escape before you crushed it in between your jaws. Its tangy blood filled your mouth and you resisted the urge to begin eating. No, Brizo, this one is for Lotan, you reminded yourself. He always eats first, and always the better catch. You can finish what he doesn’t.

These were one of the rules that he began implementing after the two of you were expelled from the colony. It felt like a lifetime ago since that night, but now you scoff when you remembered how weak and terrified you had been. You couldn’t remember why you had approached that mermaid in the first place, but it didn’t matter. Her young were sickly and you wouldn’t be surprised if they had already been claimed by the sea. You hoped that they had - the entire colony deserved to die for their outdated standards, the ones that dared to ever make Lotan feel undesired by the females.

You moved through the abyss with the practiced ease of a creature born of it, your long, powerful tail slicing through the water like a blade. Your sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, the light from the surface dimming as the water grew thicker. You weren’t afraid of the dark anymore. You didn’t need to be. Not when you had become a weapon of the depths — fierce, quick, deadly.

It was cruel at first - but the ocean had no mercy, no time for weakness. You had to quickly learn how to survive in this environment, and you did. Lotan was your one source of comfort, the only thing keeping you from being all alone out here, completely forgotten by the rest of the world. Such a fate would destroy you! Even now, even being away from him on this hunt… you could feel a horrible sense of dread begin to grow inside of you, so much colder and heavier than the water surrounding you. You needed him, so much more than he could ever realize, so much more than you’d ever be able to tell him. 

So instead…you would show him. Your life now revolved around his happiness. You would hunt for him, build a home for him, attend to every one of his physical and emotional needs. You had become an extension of his will, your desires folding neatly into his. Your body was a map of scars now, each one a badge, a symbol of your loyalty and strength—marks left by predators you had dispatched, enemies who dared approach what Lotan had claimed.

At first, you had thought them ugly—horrible reminders of your violent nature. But when Lotan told you he liked them, told you they were proof of your worth, your victories, you learned to accept them. In fact, you learned to like them because he liked them. Your body no longer frightened you. Now, you only saw the proof of your usefulness in each jagged tear on your skin. Every scar was a story, every fight was a victory for him.

Finally, you were home.

The dead reef had once been a place of eerie stillness—silent, abandoned, a hollow shell of what it had once been. Now, it was where he waited for you.

Lotan lounged in comfort as you swam up to him, taking the fish out from between your jaws and offering it to him. His laugh seemed to fill the dark cavern as he examined it, his talon gliding through its soft underbelly with ease.

“You remembered my favorite! Oh, Brizo, you always treat me so well.”

Your nerves quelled at his praise, and you waited for him to finish eating before you began. You had your own meal, of course, but that didn’t matter. We wait out of respect, he had taught you. We wait to ensure that our superiors are well-fed, and that they can have our meal if they need more. Not a traditional rule that merfolk practiced, but when he came up with the idea you found yourself promising to adhere to it. 

—

You were almost done, you could feel it.

Your home had been undergoing many changes lately, and you had been working tirelessly to make it perfect. Rocks piled high into uneven walls, the bones of your mightiest kills displayed prominently for all to see. Decorations made of shells and plants, and a bed of sand that you were currently forming into soft, circular patterns, although you had no idea what they symbolized. 

You could feel his eyes staring into your back as you worked dutifully to match everything to his specifications. As nervous as it made you, you were quick to remind yourself that it meant that you were not alone. You would never be alone. You would never be lost or forgotten about again. And so, you reminded yourself to be comforted by his gaze. 

You stopped to admire your work. You had completely transformed this dead, empty reef into a formidable… Your mind struggled to find the word for it. It was almost like a lair, but one meant for a large group to live in.

“Briii-zoooo…” Lotan purred, shaking you from your thoughts. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“I- yes, of course!” You uttered. They were the first words you had said aloud in a very, very long time. 

“And do you love me?” 

“Yes! I love you so much, Lotan…!”

He hummed in contentment, his tail lazily flicking as he watched you closely. He slowly began to approach you, and you tried to not let your disappointment show. His appetite had been rather… ferocious lately, and although he had explained to you that this was normal for him, the energy spent between your daily lovemaking sessions and building the… the lair had left you sore and exhausted. You were hoping to spend tonight relaxing your aching muscles and resting with Lotan, but you wouldn’t tell him that. You couldn’t. You couldn’t hurt him with a rejection, not when he had been hurt by so many in the past. 

“I know. I’ve always known. Look at what you’ve done for me. You’ve built me a nest to raise our young in!”

Nest. So that’s what this was. You began to feel lightheaded as he wrapped his arms around you and began kissing the back of your head, your cheek, your neck.

“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.”

You should’ve known. You did know. Lotan had never been shy to explain your purpose in life. But now, the time has come to realize his plan.

“You’ll do such a great job as a mother, Brizo. I know you will.” He spoke so reverently as his head rested in the crook of your shoulder, as his hands began massaging your back. You could feel him moving them forward to caress your bare chest, but you were too distracted by your own thoughts to react. You realized then that you knew nothing of motherhood. You struggled to remember if you even had a mother of your own. You felt your stomach turn.

“Lotan…? I’m not re-”

��Heh… those bastards. They always told me that I’d never find a mate, that I was unfit to procreate. Tainted genes, they called it. They were always - so - so…”

“Lo-”

“Well, look now… look who’s laughing now... I’ll show them all. My sons and I - we’ll slaughter them! We’ll enslave their children…!”

His words were drowned out while you tried to get a grip on your own mind. I should’ve been more prepared for this, I knew this was coming, this was natural, this will make him happy, and to make him happy is to make myself happy. You chanted these mantras to yourself over and over again, hoping that it would soothe you. But it all felt so wrong!

That same old response overtook you then, the one that you tapped into whenever you felt any semblance of fear. Your emotions began to flatten and your senses dulled. An emptiness settled deep inside as Lotan returned his attention to you.

“You’re so good to me, Brizo. So perfect…” his scaled hands began to move down from your chest, gently brushing over your gills, your abdomen, until his webbed fingers began to enter your genital slit. 

“...And you’re going to make me so happy.”

[k-s-morgan]

Hey, I was re-reading ATLWETD when I noticed something so obvious in this paragraph that I stupidly didn't notice the first time.

"Riddle was taller than him, so now his lips were almost brushing against Harry’s forehead. 

“I don’t need to live in a Muggle world to own someone,” he murmured. Belatedly, Harry realised why he was standing so close — he didn’t want others to overhear his outrageous statements. “You should know this. After all, you know me better than anyone.”"

He wasn't gloating only about the death eaters, like Harry thought, he was mostly referring to the Horocrux situation and their own really unique relationship (also, the fact he almost kisses the scar as he speaks made me scream).

Will we see more moments like this in the next chapters?? (If you don't want to spoil us, just ignore this part.)

This all brings me to the actual question: Harry replies:"It’s because I know you that I’m not going to entertain your disturbing fantasies,” he said. Somehow, he managed to sound less harsh than he intended. “No matter what loyalty anyone promises you, it is not infinite. If you treat people who pledged themselves to you cruelly, they are not going to stay. I saw it happen. And by the rate you’re going, I think it might happen again.”

What the hell did Tom assume from this reply? And most importantly, what assumptions did he make about the connection between Harry and fake!Tom based on this answer?

Hoping the best for you and your loved ones in these hard times <333

Hi! Thank you <3 I'm glad that you saw the second meaning of Tom's words. It was related to how Tom envisions their relationship and to the Horcruxes both.

The more Tom imagines what life he and Harry might have had, the more feelings and desires are born in him. He's certain that Harry was his in every way and that he had absolute control over him because in his eyes, that's the only possibility for them to have a relationship. This is what he began to want now, so he's sure that any other version of him must have wanted the same. Harry cannot relate to it, ownership doesn't interest him, so he didn't fully comprehend what Tom meant.

I cannot say specifically what kind of moments of closeness and possessiveness we'll get because I never plan these things, they pop up by themselves as I write! But there will definitely be a lot of them))

As for your second question, Tom and Harry are having somewhat different conversations here. Harry is talking purely about Tom's followers, Tom is talking about them and about his bond with Harry at the same time. Harry's words made him think that he lost the devotion of some of his Death Eaters in that other reality, but most importantly, he contemplates the fact that his attitude cost him Harry. He doesn't know the specifics, but he thinks that his insanity pushed Harry away and resulted in him being snatched into some other world. Harry doesn't seem to be actively trying to go back to it, which Tom considers as another proof of their broken bond. In his mind, with their connection, Harry would have to be obsessed with reuniting with 'his' Tom. Since he isn't, it means that the other Tom failed him so much that Harry is now more interested in building something new with his other version.

Tom is confident that he'll be a better partner. At the same time, while he places Harry above everyone else, he doesn't see him as his equal, and he cannot imagine a relationship without any violence and control in it. He thinks Harry mostly accepts it, only that 'his' Tom overdid it because of the Horcruxes. So after Harry's reply, Tom's trying to assure him him that some violence is an inherent part of a relationship, and that he's in his right mind, so he'll know how to keep a balance between violence and fondness - basically, that he'll succeed in being a leader that Harry (and the others) would be glad to respect and follow both in 'professional' and personal capacities.

This probably sounds a little messy, but Tom's mind is still reeling from all the (fake) revelations, so he cannot always settle on a specific picture) It keeps changing.

[sankta-wraith]

To Leave The Warmest Bed I’ve Ever Known

All those scenes of Daemon and Rhaenyra not being able to sleep without each other inspired me, so here’s a ficlet about our favorite pair of insomniacs. Title is from Tis the Damn Season by Taylor Swift.

Daemon’s bed was cold. Of course it was. Everything in this dammed castle was cold or damp, and most things were both. Even the hearths were near impossible to light, and on the rare occasions he managed to coax a fire from one, it did little to pierce the ever present chill that seemed to have surrounded him since he left Dragonstone. Since he left Rhaenyra. After their fight, he had stormed off on Caraxes without a word to anyone, eager to rally the riverlords to her cause, and sure that he would return in a few weeks, a moon at most, with an army flying her banners and serving as undeniable proof of his loyalty and love for her. The flight to Harrenhal had started to temper his rage, allowing regret to creep in. Perhaps he shouldn’t have left so suddenly. At the very least, should he not have first apologized for his words to his wife? But Daemon had never been one for apologies. Much better to return when he had something to give her, and let that do the talking for him. It had, admittedly, been a mistake not to send ravens, but he had not expected to stay for so long, and he was unsure of what exactly Rhaenyra would want him to say. He had considered sending a short, impersonal missive informing her that he had arrived in the Riverlands, and was preparing to raise an army, but worried about how such a letter might be received. Despite their recent argument, Daemon could not bear the thought of Rhaenyra believing he no longer cared for her. Not sending ravens had seemed practical at the time, but he had come to regret it, and now it was far too late. He could not have his first letter after such a long absence be an accounting of his failures. Any way he looked at it, Daemon knew he had failed. He had spent far longer than he intended in Harrenhal, and all he had managed to do was turn the riverlords against him. Daemon hated failing. He wished, more than anything, to leave this cold, miserable place, and fly home to Rhaenyra. Gods he missed her. Her absence was a wound that only grew deeper with each passing day. He craved her presence. The feel of her skin, the sound of her voice, the fire that burned in her deep violet eyes. She was the other half of his soul, his twin flame, they burned together. Not being by her side was a torture worse than anything Daemon had ever imagined. He could scarcely believe that he had survived ten years without her. The idea of just one was enough to make Daemon want to drive Dark Sister through his chest. During the days he could bury the pain of being without her under the physical exertion of rebuilding the castle, and his general annoyance towards everything around him. But at night there was nothing to save him from his thoughts. If anything, his cold, empty bed only served as a reminder of his missing piece. He glared at it, the physical manifestation of his mistakes, then proceeded to drop the expression with a sigh, crawling between the sheets.

Daemon turned to face the side he always left empty, as though he expected Rhaenyra to appear in his bed in the middle of the night. He couldn’t help it, they had shared a bed for six years, during which they had spent barely ten nights apart. Who could blame him if he still left his wife’s side untouched? He stretched his arm out across the bed, reaching for someone he knew he would not find. He let his hand drop to the mattress with a scoff, irritated with himself. He hoped that Rhaenyra was sleeping better than he was. She would need rest after dealing with her Small Council all day, even more so now that Rhaenys was dead. Daemon worried for her. She was prone to nightmares when she became stressed, usually towards the end of her pregnancies, although it had happened again when they were in Kings Landing to defend Luke’s inheritance. She would wake in the night, shaking, often with tears streaming down her beautiful face. When it had first happened, just before Aegon’s birth, he had woken to find her sitting up, a hand over her mouth as she tried to muffle her sobs. He had taken her into his arms, and held her against his chest until her tears stopped flowing and she stilled. He had not asked what had woken her, the hour was late and Rhaenyra had seemed exhausted. All he had done was hold her as she slept, wondering what could possibly have incited such a reaction in his proud, fierce wife. She had given him his answer the next morning. It was normal, she had insisted, for her worries from the waking world to occasionally follow her into sleep, he needn’t be concerned about her. When he had inquired as to what worries had left her so shaken she had hesitated. Daemon, in an attempt to be comforting, had brought his forehead to hers. Rhaenyra’s hand had dropped to her swollen stomach, and she had admitted, voice shaking, that whenever she drew near to the end of her terms, her childhood fears of the birthing bed would return to haunt her. Daemon had drawn her close, promising that she and the child would be safe, and the next night when he found her tearstained and trembling, he had held her again, and the night after, and after that. By the time she was carrying Viserys, she had only to shift closer to him and whisper his name, and he would open his arms for her and stroke her hair until she drifted off. Although she had never said it, Daemon suspected that until then, she had endured the nightmares alone. He had made a vow to himself, on the second night, that as long he lived, she would never have to suffer through it alone. He prayed that he wasn’t breaking that vow. With a sigh, Daemon pulled himself back to the present. His mind had gone down quite the depressing path tonight, although that was becoming commonplace. Still, he needed sleep. He could not lie here and stew in his regret until then sun came up. He let his weariness crash over him, pulling him down into the depths of what would likely be a restless sleep. He hoped he would dream of her, but he knew he was unlikely to be that lucky. Daemon drifted off, one arm still outstretched, reaching for Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra woke with his name on her lips. “Daemon,” she whispered, hating the way her voice trembled with unshed tears. When he didn’t respond, she tried again, more forcefully.“Daemon,” still, he said nothing. He must be sleeping quite deeply, she thought. She hoped she wouldn’t wake him, he needed sleep just as much as she did. Quietly, she reached across the bed, intending to slip into his arms while he slept, as she had done countless times before. She was met with empty space and cold sheets. She remembered, suddenly. Daemon was at Harrenhal, and had been for some time now. He hadn’t even bothered to send a raven. Rhaenyra got out of bed and threw on a robe. She pulled it tight around herself, as though it would keep away the memories of the nightmare that had dragged her from sleep. It was the same one she’d been having for weeks now; Luke, flying before Vhagar only to be devoured, the scrap of his cloak she had found with Arrax’s wing. Her poor Visenya, scaled and horned and dead. Even her father had come back to haunt her, half his face missing, screaming that he had made a mistake, that she could never be Queen. Rhaenyra shuddered, and walked over to the window overlooking the beach. She felt a sudden surge of longing for Daemon. How many nights had she spent in his arms, head resting against his chest while his heart beat steadily next to her ear? How many hours had he held her, running his hands through her hair and pressing kisses to her head until she was lulled back to sleep? She missed him terribly. She had taken for granted what a comfort it was to have him next to her. When he came back she would appreciate every minute with him. If he came back. Although none of them would say it outright, she knew her Small Council was starting to doubt his loyalty. Logically, Rhaenyra knew she should at least consider the possibility that he had betrayed her. After all, he hadn’t sent a single raven, and they certainly had not parted on good terms. But, for all his faults, Daemon had always been fiercely loyal to her. He was a touch too eager for bloodshed, but he was still willing to defend her against anything. He had proved enough when he took Vaemond Velaryon’s head. Just the thought of him betraying her was more than she could bear. Her husband, the man that she loved, the other half of her soul, turning against her? Rhaenyra shook her head. It will not happen, she thought. Daemon is temperamental, but he will not turn against me and our children. I would rather he be dead. She regretted the thought as soon as it came. As unbearable as the idea of Daemon betraying her was, the idea of a world without him was comparatively worse. A world without Daemon, without his fire, his love for her and their family, a world in which she would never hear his voice again, or be held by him again, or feel his lips on hers. The thought brought fresh tears to her eyes. She blinked them away furiously. He is not dead, nor will he be dying any time soon. He is simply hiding from our disagreement like a petulant child. The last thought forced some of the grief from her mind, but still, the thought of a world in which Daemon no longer lived haunted her. Rhaenyra stalked back to their bed and cast off the robe, before slipping back beneath the heavy blankets. She lay there, until sleep found her, and with it more nightmares. This time, she saw her husband, laying dead on some battlefield, Dark Sister in his hand and Caraxes’s broken body under him. She screamed as she ran towards him, and shook him violently, like she could force life back into him. But he remained still, glassy lilac eyes staring sightlessly up at her. When she woke again, the sun was peaking through her windows, and one of her hands lay stretched out on the bed, reaching for Daemon.

[ohbo-ohno]

But!!!! What if!!!! The Princess’ entire kingdom is a werewolf kingdom. And!!! And maybe the Princess is a vampire from her mother’s side. Then the Princess’ escape options are even fewer because she can’t go out in the sun. Maybe she even gets addicted to Simon’s blood because of how good it is but hates Johnny’s (says it tastes like a dog’s) - 🕸

oh spiderweb.... i love you...

vampire king and queen who keep the werewolf population oppressed in their kingdom, and their daughter the princess promises her werewolf guard she'll make changes when she gets into power - but vampires are immortal, so she's stuck waiting for some outside for to kill her parents so she can make real change

but then here comes ghost (wraith? dragon? demon? idk!) who does kill her parents, but he doesn't put princess in power, for obvious reasons.

but... he is making changes. even if johnny's loyalty is to the princess, she never could make real change and ghost definitely is. and he keeps asking johnny for advice on how to best help werewolves, so he really feels like he's actually helping

and princess fucking hates ghost. yes it's good that he's making things better for the wolves, of course, but also... everything gets worse for her. suddenly the entire kingdom is on a day schedule, so princess always feels like she's missing everything.

and ghost does this horribly annoying thing where he always acts like he's doing her a favor. yes she's missing all sorts of meeting with diplomats, but she needs her sleep and he can't restructure everything in the kingdom for one little vampire, can he? no, no, that wouldn't be fair! she'll just have to talk to ghost when she wakes up to catch up on everything she missed <3 johnny can even be there, to make her more comfortable if she'd like

and it would make it so easy for ghost to bring johnny to his side, because he can show him real tangible evidence of what good he's doing. things are getting better, and the proof is right in front of his face everyday that he sees his people freed from their leashes

also princess needing blood but hating johnny's :( johnny hates being fed off of because it goes against every animal instinct he has, but it also hurts his feelings that he apparently tastes like dog and that his favorite person in the world hates the way he tastes. ghost just sees an opportunity, though, and totally forces princess to drink exclusively from him

i like in the vampire diaries how when vampires don't drink enough blood they just slow down a lot and eventually become statues. let's imagine something like that here - princess trudging around all slow and sleepy and ghost just smirking, says oh? did i forget to give you breakfast, princess? i'm so sorry, why dont we fix that. c'mere, on my lap. and holds her real close, keeps a hand on the back of her neck to hold her in place

pulls her off when she tries to take too much :( grabs her by the hair and tugs her right off, smiles a little when she whines and tries to go for more. swipes his fingers over the blood, holds them in front of her mouth and nearly laughs when she licks desperately at each of his fingers to get every little drop

[bean-bean2000]

The Hacker - Part 12

airings: Bucky x Reader

Status: Ongoing

All feedback is very welcome and appreciated!

Warnings: angst, mention of bomb, fluffy feelings with Steve

Please let me know if i missed any warnings and I will add them.

Series masterlist

Part 11

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You wake up in your room, head pounding. You get up slowly as you remember what happened.

You did it. He's dead. You're free.

You get out of bed and look at yourself in the mirror, tracing your fingers lightly over the harsh scar across your faces.

You realize that for the first time since it happened, you're no longer ashamed or disgusted by it. You're proud of it. It's proof of your bravery, resilience and loyalty.

You shower and throw on some comfortable clothes, heading to the kitchen.

As you turn the corner, the whole team quiets down and looks to you.

"Umm.. hey guys, what's up?" you say awkwardly, feeling weird about the silence in the room.

You move to the fridge and grab yourself a snack and drink.

"You... feeling okay?" Tony asks you awkwardly.

"Yeah?... why?... are YOU guys okay?" you question them with your brows raised.

A series of muffled "yeah, no, totally, for sure" and uneasy coughs spread across the room.

An awkward silence fills the room.

"So, are we going to talk about it, or?" Tony asks, breaking the silence.

The rest of the team shoot angry glares at him and you sigh heavily

"Okay, I get it. I killed him. I need you to remember that he wasn't my first kill. He was my first intentional kill but, it was a way for me to heal and ensure that I can move on and live my life in peace. I knew that if I let him live, I would be paranoid every second and terrified he captures me again, I wouldn't be able to even look at my face in the mirror anymore. Now, I can breathe. There's a weight lifted off my shoulders and when I look at myself, at the scar, I don't see pain and fear anymore, I see strength and resilience. I'm tired of being scared. I'm not anymore." you rant to the team. They stay silent and listen to you intently.

When you're done, nobody says anything, they all look at you with understanding looks with a small hint of pity.

The subject is soon changed abruptly by Tony again, trying to ease the tension in the air and make the mood more light. He starts ordering people around to make breakfast and so on.

You look at all of them, your eyes land on Bucky. He stares at you blankly.

Why hasn’t he spoken to me yet? What the hell changed? Maybe I thought I was seeing something that was never there…

You shake your head and walk away to your office.

You don’t hear the team telling Bucky off for his attitude.

“Dude what’s your problem?” Sam says.

“Why are you being an asshole?” Natasha prods

“Can you not show some emotion for more than three seconds?” Tony questions.

“Okay, guys that’s enough. You know how he is. I’m not happy with the way he’s acting either but he’ll figure it out. Just make sure you don’t hurt her, Bucky.” Steve says pointedly.

Bucky doesn’t reply to any of them. His mind is only focused on you.

After breakfast, Steve confronts Bucky “Buck, buddy, what’s going on?”

“Steve… I know we talked about this on the jet but I can’t help but feel like she’s better off without me…”

“What are you talking about? Why would you say that?”

“I’m the reason all of this happened… I caught her on the street when we were first chasing her. I was with her on the plane when she was kidnapped and couldn’t do anything about it—”

Steve cuts him off “Enough. Stop this. You can’t blame yourself for everything. We were all there. We all went to go get her. We were all on that first mission when she was kidnapped. The only reason you’re blaming yourself fully is because you can’t admit you have serious feelings for her and you push her away. I know you Buck, I know you better than I know myself. If you don’t wake up and realize what’s in front of you, somebody else will and it’ll be too late.”

Steve shakes his head and huffs out angrily.

“Listen man, it’s your choice but don’t come crying to me asking me where you went wrong. You fully know what you’re doing, you’re not stupid.” Steve ends the conversation and walks away.

——————————————————————————-------------------

A few days have passed since your last mission. You've been taking it easy, and doing small tasks here and there for the team. Any missions you've been on have remained remote.

As you're cleaning your office it feels different. The air is heavier. You haven't been in this room since you were kidnapped. When you had first returned, you couldn't even look at your door without having a panic attack.

Now, as you sit in your chair and start up your computer and hear the whirring, you smile at the familiarity of it. It feels like home to you now, your computer is your escape and your safety net.

You're working on rearranging your firewall and reinforcing the security of your system from any potential hydra hacking attempts when you hear a light knock at the door. You swivel around in your chair and see Steve leaning against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, um....I just wanted to check on you..." Steve says.

You sigh "Thank you Steve, but honestly, I mean it when I say I'm okay. Last night was the first time in weeks since I've had a proper night's sleep without night terrors. I can handle myself."

"I know, I know you can and you proved that but even the strongest soldiers need help sometimes."

You bite your inner cheek as you take in what he's saying.

“I didn't come here as your boss or your captain, I came here as a friend, because I truly care about you and I needed to speak to you." Steve slowly enters your room, grabbing a chair to sit in front of you.

"I just wanted to let you know that I’m so happy that you’re feeling better and proud of all the progress you’ve made. I love you like a sister, I truly thought I lost you. I was desperate to save you, you’re my family and I felt helpless and lost when we couldn’t find you. Then we did find you and then we got ambushed and you almost got kidnapped again while we were right there! …. I - I’m so sorry… I’m so so so sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you, that Bucky and I weren’t there… we promised you and i’m so sorry…” Tears spill from his eyes down his cheeks.

“Oh Stevie, this wasn’t your fault. You never broke your promise, in my heart I know that you’re protecting me always, physically and in spirit. You and Bucky were protecting me when I was in that hell hole. You’re the reason I survived.” you explain to him.

“But- I…”

“I love you too Stevie. You’re my family, the entire team is the one and only true family I have ever had.”

You pull Steve in for a hug, which he accidentally crushes you a little too hard making you yelp lightly in surprise.

“Oh sorry! I’m just so happy you’re healthy and safe. Um, before I go, I wanted to mention one more thing… um... I need you on another mission. Still remote, we're not putting you in the field until you're ready again. Are you okay with that? I'll give you the debrief now if you're ready..." Steve

"Um... yeah I think I am... I think it's time for me to start getting back out there for real. I'm in, what's the mission?"

"It's a relatively simple mission. We need you to hack into the home security systems of a hydra agent. Disable all and any alarms or traps. You'll be guiding Bucky through the home every step of the way because he will be in complete darkness, only you will be able to see with the night vision cameras and guide him to the right room without being spotted."

"Alright, sounds simple enough. When do we start?"

"Tonight at midnight, be ready with your comms on. We need you inside those systems the moment Bucky steps foot onto that property."

"Understood." you say as you turn around and continue working on your computers.

Steve watches you for a little while, contemplating if he should say something but decides against it and walks away.

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You're working on the systems, hacking into them, but they're more difficult than you had anticipated. You're hurrying as you see Bucky's truck approaching the property.

The second Bucky speaks over the comms, you're finally in. You tell him to wait while you disable all alarms and traps and turn on the night vision cameras in the home to guide him.

"Okay, all is clear. I intercepted all electronic and mechanical traps, beware of man-made ones that only you can see" you warn Bucky.

"Got it. Thanks." he replies.

Why is he being so cold? It's our first mission together after since i've returned...

"Alright, when I say go you need to duck and roll towards the bush to your left. Then, at my signal I will open the door and you'll slide in before it shuts. You have a 5 second window." you relay the plan to him.

"5 seconds? are you kidding me? Who do you think I am? The Flash?" he says sarcastically.

"No, The Winter Soldier." you reply slyly.

You hear his breath hitch as he stops in his tracks.

"Show me what you've got super soldier" you say flirtatiously.

"Doll, if you keep talking like that this mission will never get done."

"Sorry, did you prefer being called sir?" you challenge.

"Cyber...." he warns you.

"Alright you big grump, get ready... okay 3-2-1...go!" you give him the signal. You watch him duck and roll and slide through the door before it shuts quietly.

"Told you you could do it." you say with a smirk.

Bucky grunts in response which makes you laugh as you celebrate your small win.

Bucky is in the house. It's a large modern home, all glass windows and modern architecture; making it difficult for Bucky to sneak around and hide but easy for you to hack into.

The home is completely dark as you guide Bucky with every step so he doesn't make a sound and get caught.

"alright, there are 2 guards to your left. One of them is sleeping, the other is walking back and forth every minute, between where you're hiding and his sleeping buddy. When I say now, you will stealth attack the guard. Make sure he doesnt make a sound."

"Copy that." Bucky replies.

You're confused by his constant change of tones. One moment he's cold, the next he's hot and now he's cold again? Maybe he's just really focused on the mission....

"Alright, get into position he's coming your way... Now!"

You hear Bucky grab onto the guys neck and cover his mouth. He slowly chokes him into an unconscious state and then drags his body behind a counter.

"Nicely done." you compliment.

He doesn't reply, so you move on to the next opponent.

"The other guard is sleeping, so you can leave him be. To your right there's another guard. He's a big guy with lots of armour and a big gun. You're going to have to sneak past him, you can't take him out without causing too much noise."

"When I say go, you'll sprint to the stair case and hide behind that massive statue" you explain to him.

"Copy that." he replies dryly.

You roll your eyes and ruflfe your brows in angry confusion.

"Alright,... go!" you signal as you see him sprint and hide.

"I'm going to create a distraction so the big guy and his friend go in the opposite direction. You'll go up the stairs and hide behind the other massive statue at the top. This guy really likes statues damn."

You hear Bucky chuckle.

"What's the distraction?" Bucky asks.

"Oh, you'll know when you hear it." you chuckle.

Suddenly, random car alarms from everywhere start going off. Lights flashing, sirens blaring. You see the guards get up and rush away to find the source of the intrusion.

You smile to yourself in satisfaction "Are you up the stairs?"

"You weren't kidding, doll. That was impressive." he compliments you.

Now he's hot again... I don't understand?

"Okay, now when I say go, you will dash behind the plant to your right. Directly in front of the plant is the room you need to enter to grab the documents and go."

"The cameras are showing that the room is empty, but there are guards patrolling the entire floor. We need to do this properly, there are too many of them and you'll be overpowered."

"Okay... get ready.... go." you see him dash behind the plant.

Just as he's about to go for the door you see a guard start going up the stairs.

'Stop! Don't move. Guard coming up the stairs." You see Bucky squirm his way behind the plant as best he can, as the guard turns and walks in the opposite direction.

"The cameras show no movement inside the room. I removed the lock, once you go inside, go straight to his desk. I already stole all electronic files, you need to look for paper documents."

"Okay, coast is clear, get in the room." you say as he sprints to the door and quietly opens it as he slides inside.

You see him ruffling through the documents in the desk as you're keeping an eye out for the guards.

"I can't find anything. Are you sure there are paper documents?" He asks, frustrated.

"Yes. All information from the electronic data points to there being hard copies of the most highly classified documents as a safety measure. Their protocol is to burn all evidence if they get caught." You explain to him.

"I'm getting a reading from behind inside the desk. It looks like a large rectangular box. I think it's inside the desk itself. Look beneath it and see if the wooden panels are loose."

Bucky ducks beneath the desk and feels around for any loose panels when he hears a click and the panel slides open to the side. He grabs onto a rectangular metal box.

"I got it. There's no padlock or keypad to lock it.... wouldn't they keep more high profile cases more secure than this?" Bucky questions.

You're looking at him through the cameras and start scanning the interior of the mysterious box. Your breath gets caught in your throat when your computer blares a warning in flashing red

BOMB. DISPOSE IMMEDIATELY.

"Bucky. Do not move. You're holding a bomb. I can't diffuse it from here because there's no technology related to it. When I give you the signal, you will slowly get up and walk to the window that I will unlock and open. I'm sending in a small drone that will pick it up with a magnet. Do not make any sudden movements."

"Okay. I got it." Bucky says. You can see the stress on his face, his teeth gritting together in panic.

He gets to the window as the window clicks open. The drone you sent out whirs inside, hovers over the metal box and slowly picks it up magnetically, as to not touch any part of it abruptly. You control it to hover away and fly into the forest nearby.

"What was that? That was crazy..." Bucky says in disbelief.

"It's a drone, old man. I'll explain it to you later." you roll your eyes.

"Now, follow the escape plan and get out of there." you say.

You watch him climb out of the window and attach himself with a hook and rope. He starts to climb down the side of the building as you're warning him when to stop or continue whenever a guard passes by.

Bucky makes it to the bottom and hides in the bushes again. He successfully manages to get into the quinjet and fly off.

You breathe a sigh of relief when you see him taking off.

"What are you going to do with the bomb?" he asks.

"When you're far enough, you'll know."

Five minutes later, Bucky sees a massive explosion where the home was.

He shakes his head "Always one for the theatrics I see" he says while chuckling.

"I always prefer to finish with a bang." You hear Bucky groan at the awful pun.

"See you at the base." Bucky says and shuts the comms off.

You sit back and reflect on the mission. It was relatively successful except for the paper documents that are missing.

Bucky was acting so strangely... one second he's flirting with me and the next he's cold and distant.... Maybe he doesn't have feelings for me like I thought he did....

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[ofsmokenandgold]

Land of Women - Episode 3

So episode 3 and we're still on the "Amat and Gala have chemistry even though she's annoying as fuck" train.

We get a nice little flashback that outlines Amat's arrival in La Muga and how he came to be involved with the house and the co-operative and Golfo and Montse. The women are great, doting on him. It does give us a couple of Amat mysteries - the child in the photo and the fact that he bought the house with several large bundles of €50 notes - which suggests that he knows that Gala can't really complain to the authorities about him appropriating her cash - because there would be too many questions. This scene also reminds us that you can't convincingly dye a beard. It just looks too uniform, no beard is a single color. I know they did it to telegraph the time shift, but it's just distracting.

I do like the village tradition of useless men - that's a very European rural thing - we have something of the same tradition in my family.

This episode certainly shows us where Gala got her tendency towards entitlement from, Julia trying to extort money from Andreu based on the fact that he "might" be Gala's father is decidedly sketchy. She's causing chaos in these people's lives and isn't even very nice to them. And, talking of entitlement - I can forgive Kate for thinking she can just walk into a doctor's office in Spain and get a prescription, no questions asked, because she's 17 and doesn't know any better. But did Gala actually think through what it would mean to bring a child that needs medical support to a foreign country where she has no legal right to access ongoing care? Xavi (the doctor) is a twat, but he's not wrong that he can't just write her a prescription without her medical history and proof of legal residence.

So Amat and Gala - this episode is interesting because she yells less, is less generally annoying, and we see real chemistry developing between them. It's interesting to watch how often Amat is looking at her mouth and not her eyes when they are talking. It’s such a subtle tell for attraction and he just nails it. And then we get the whole getting drunk together and being cute. And then Gala finds out that Fred is cheating on her, so he's a rat and she doesn't have to feel any loyalty to him. Which brings us to the "almost-kiss" on the patio. At that moment I was sold, even though it seemed a little fast (she was happily married to Fred less than a week before), and then Montse shows up and the writers throw that massive curve ball at us.

And for me, everything falls apart at that point. If they'd chosen to have Amat talk to Montse that night, even just to make an excuse for the evening and talk to her later; he's still hungover, he's not feeling great, he's tired - ANYTHING other than going off upstairs and fucking like bunnies five minutes after he'd almost kissed Gala.

It's unfathomable to me why the writers chose to make him look like SUCH a dick. Even if it's just a friends-with-benefits thing he owes Montse an honest conversation about developing feelings for another woman. It just makes him look like he doesn't want to blow up his no-strings sex on the side deal in case he doesn't actually have a shot with Gala. Again, it makes him look like a dick. Even if he's a still pretty dick in another fine selection of slightly ratty henleys (and that one lovely sweater in the flashback scene).

I have pretty much come to terms with it. but it's jarring, especially as I know it's only going to get worse over the next three episodes.

I have decided to work through it with a little writing-therapy. I am taking a great deal of delight in the fact that the entire opus of Land of Woman fiction on AO3 is going to be Amat/Montse for the near future (one story up there, more to come).

[juniper-sunny]

A Knight to Remember - Part 4 (End)

Medieval AU | Knight!Silco | Silco x Female!Reader | No (Y/N) | Romance | Slow Burn | Fluff || NSFW | Vaginal Fingering, P in V Sex, Mirror Sex, Breeding Kink | WC: 7.84k | art by @designfailure56 | betas: @silcoitus @deny-the-issue

ao3 || Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The ever-growing attraction between you and your knight is endangered by forces outside your control…

taglist: @sherwood-forests @ilikemymendarkandfictional @ursawastricked @quirkykaty @let-the-monster-out @ariaud @deny-the-issue @beardedladyqueen

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No matter how much your knight insisted otherwise, he seemed quite tired. The tournament was only yesterday; perhaps he needed more time to rest before he resumed his usual duties. But as always, he followed you to the meadow and refused to go home.

“Sir knight,” you said sternly, “You insist that you must remain at my side to serve me properly. Yet you will serve me better if you are well-rested.”

“Your father’s orders were to never leave you,” he said with a teasing smile. “And they supersede your own.”

“He would make an exception if he could see your exhaustion,” you rolled your eyes. “Do not presume you can hide it from me, sir knight. You are nearly asleep on your feet.”

As if to prove your point, a yawn overwhelmed your knight. Even as he raised his hand to cover his mouth, the sun glinted off his chipped teeth.

You patted the ground next to where you sat. “Come rest here, sir knight. It should satisfy you to obey both my father and myself.”

Further disagreements continued for what felt like hours. But a bumblebee landed on his nose without him noticing, as it alighted when he had shut his eye for longer than he intended. It was the only proof he accepted that you might be right about his fatigue.

You half-hoped that he would lay his head in your lap. But as he lay down, he laced his fingers behind his head, a thin cushion between himself and the ground. Only a moment passed before his eye drooped shut, regular breaths growing deeper and deeper. You smiled as you plucked a coneflower and placed it over his heart. The breeze blew it off his chest and into his face, where it landed next to his nose. He twitched in his sleep, mumbling. You moved to pluck the flower when it was carried away by another, stronger wind.

You pulled your knees up to your chest as you watched your knight slumber peacefully. It was strange how comfortable he felt in your company. Showing his vulnerability to you, and only you. You could not articulate what you had done to deserve loyalty from such a good man, but you were more than happy to be a safe haven for him.

No matter how hard you prayed, that was all you would be to him: his lord’s daughter. You could never be his lover.

Especially with the news that you had yet to share with him.

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Your knight found out sooner than you would have liked. Of course he did. He was at the center of it, after all. Your lord father was so impressed by his service to you and his performance at the tournament, he wanted to offer your knight an elevated position: the head of the household guard. 

Somehow, the news had spread to your other servants. They gossiped idly in your presence, unaware of how the topic caused you emotional turmoil. Another few days passed before you could offer your congratulations to the knight in privacy, on one of your clandestine outings. This time, you were perched on a rock by the river while he stood next to you.

He turned his piercing gaze to you in appraisal. Try as you might to offer him a genuine smile, he looked at you in concern.

“My lady,” he asked, his brow furrowed. “What troubles you?”

“Nothing!” you squeaked, looking away too quickly. You rolled a handful of rocks in your hand, looking for the best one to skip across the water’s surface.

He stared intensely at you while you fidgeted restlessly. You ignored him, picking out a long flat rock larger than your palm. You prickled uncomfortably under his stare, and you threw the rock in a wide arc. It splashed into the water and sank, your concentration so ruined that you could not skip it properly.

“I am sorry, sir knight,” you finally said. “I… I am afraid to tell you the extent of my selfishness. These thoughts that plague me… you will find them unforgivable.”

“Never, my lady,” he said immediately. “I only wish you would unburden yourself, especially if I am able to help.”

You smiled weakly at him, sincere this time. But you turned away to look at the waters, unable to look at him directly. “May I say first that my foremost hope is for your happiness. You ought to do whatever you like without concern for my own wishes. I understand that my father’s offer is too good to refuse… and yet… it is my selfish desire that you do not accept.

“I do not mind that you would no longer serve only me,” you were quick to add, “but your new duties would mean that… we could no longer spend as much time together, alone. Perhaps these outings would cease entirely.” You made a sweeping gesture towards the water as if you could snatch these stolen moments out of the air and pocket them for later.

“But it is not your destiny to live out the rest of your days as my knight,” you continued, and this notion pierced your heart with longing sadness. “You were meant for greater things, and I should not keep you from reaching them.” Even if he had to leave you behind entirely.

He leaned on the rock you were seated on, close enough that you could have reached out and taken his hand when he placed it next to yours. Your little finger brushed against his, gently grazing the leather of his gloves.

“I am taking that into consideration, my lady,” he said quietly. “I have grown accustomed to your constant company. I would hate to lose it.”

“Truly?”

He nodded. He looked at you sincerely, and his hand shifted closer to yours. Almost raising it as if to place it over your own.

“You would still reside in my father’s hall, sir knight,” you tried to reassure him even as your heart fluttered at his words. “We could still see each other enough.”

“But not every day,” he said. It was a statement and not a question. Currently, it was normal for the two of you to always be seen together. In his new position, you would have to seek each other out. And then spending so much time alone together in such close proximity would draw suspicious eyes to you.

“No… not every day,” you said glumly. But you perked up, determined not to influence your knight’s decision. “But you will earn more coin and prestige than you currently do, sir knight. Do not let me keep you from what you deserve.”

“Serving you and being with you is already more than I deserve,” he said softly.

“Do not make this decision lightly,” you chided him gently. “I would not have you miss out on this great opportunity.”

“I will decide for myself how great this opportunity is,” he said. But he smiled warmly at you. “It seems we share the same concerns for our futures.”

“You should not concern yourself with mine, sir knight,” you said insistently.

“I find that impossible, my lady,” he said, now smirking.

The two of you squabbled in circles like this up until the very moment you returned to town. Still, you were heartened that the knight acknowledged your worries. But should you have shared them with him at all? Perhaps you should have ordered him to say “yes”. The thought that he might turn down your father’s offer filled you with guilt, a sour, twisting knot in the pit of your stomach that grew heavier as the day went on. Battling with happiness that your knight was considering staying on in your service anyways. And all of that tumbling into more guilt at your selfishness again. A horrible maelstrom of conflicting emotions that almost made you physically ill.

It distracted you so thoroughly that your father needed to call out your name multiple times at dinner, attempting to engage you in conversation.

“Are you alright?” he asked you.

“Yes, father,” you said quickly. “What were you saying?”

He leaned forward in his seat, wringing his hands. “Your brother has sent word from abroad. He hopes to return to us before the end of the month… but we must prepare for the possibility that he may not survive the journey.”

That was enough to shake you from your reverie. Your brother had traveled to a faraway country years ago, excited to see more of the world, only to nearly drown during his voyage over stormy seas. You had been too young to accompany your mother when she visited him, left behind with your distraught father at home. Your mother eventually returned with the good news that he had survived but had refused to come home. You had not seen him since, only exchanging letters with him on occasion.

You still loved him very much. The prospect of his death frightened you. Hearing your father speak of it made your heart leap in your throat, and your grip trembled around your fork.

Your mother grabbed your other hand, attempting to comfort you as she scowled at your father. “Why would you speak of such tragedy aloud?? He is older and stronger now and will return to us safely. I will not have you wishing him ill fortune—”

“Of course I pray for his safe return,” your father interrupted, still stoic. “I would mourn his death greatly, but we must think of our future.”

He was going to say it. A notion that you had disliked ever since you were a little girl and positively dreaded now that you were a woman… now that you and your knight were—

“Child…” your father started solemnly. “If your brother should die, then you will need to marry an heir.”

“I will not!!” you cried out. “I—”

“You must,” your father said dismissively. “It is your duty as my daughter. Think of our people. If there is no one to lead them after my passing then—"

He swallowed hard, then looked away in distress. You would have unleashed vitriol at him, but it seemed a heartless thing to do, to pour salt on his wounds. After all, you both shared the fervent hope that your brother’s death would not come to pass.

“For one of my children to rule these lands in my stead… it is all I wish,” your father said somberly. “If it cannot be your brother then it must be you and your future husband.”

“I would be happy to rule and live chaste than to marry someone I do not love,” you blurted out. “Is that not good enough for our people?” “How long would you stay chaste for?” your father frowned. “What if you do not find love until it is too late for you to bear children? Then who will you name as a successor?”

“I…” this conversation was too closely approaching a truth you had kept hidden from everyone. One that you were afraid to acknowledge, even to yourself. To be forced to admit it in front of your parents— before telling your knight directly—would be the worst scenario possible. You chewed your lip and turned away.

“Is there someone you wish to marry?” your mother asked. Was it your imagination or did her eyes flick up to your knight standing behind you? What did she see?

You stabbed your dinner (roasted chicken breast, so reminiscent of what you and your knight used to feed Leo together) and sawed away at it with your knife. If you preoccupied yourself with your food then perhaps your mother would lose interest and you would not have to answer her question.

But she called out your name, even as you chewed overly large mouthfuls. Your father’s attention focused on you as well. You took your time sipping from your cup.

You could only lie or tell the truth… A lie was better, but not by much.

You set down your cup and angled it so the water almost spilled onto the table. Hoping to catch a glimpse of your knight’s reflection as he stood behind you. Damn the high-backed chair you were seated on— it was too tall for you to casually lean around to look at your knight. If only he were standing on the other side of the room, behind your parents where you could see each other.

If only he knew that you were about to lie not just for your sake, but his as well.

“…no,” you mumbled.

“Then we shall endeavor to find a good husband for you,” your father leaned back in his seat. He let out a sigh, as if he were relieved that you would not further complicate his planning. “What about that warrior from the tournament? I believe his name was Flynn? Or was it Finn?”

“He is not a warrior, and certainly not good enough for our daughter!!” your mother snapped. “He is a turkey of a boy—”

Your parents devolved into debating about who you ought to pair up with. There was no use trying to speak up. They had seemingly already settled the matter without you.

As much as you loved them and they loved you, in this moment you hated them.

But not as much as you hated yourself.

“Excuse me,” you choked out by way of announcing your departure. Your mother and father were too busy arguing to notice.

You walked away as quickly as you could, hugging yourself tightly. Attempting to hold yourself together. But you could not calm your shallow breaths. Tears sprung unbidden to your eyes.

The footsteps of your knight followed. Was he following you out of loyalty? Or was he hurt by your lie? What did he think when he heard what you said to your parents? Did he feel anything at all?

Finally, you arrived at the staircase leading to your chambers. You took a deep breath and wiped your eyes, hoping to hide how upset you were before turning to your knight.

“Sir knight…” you started in a low voice, conscious of how someone could walk in on the two of you at any moment. Faltering when you noticed how stiffly he carried himself, how his grip choked the hilt of his sword. But you swallowed and tried again. Forging on even as your own throat refused to cooperate. It was important to address everything he witnessed tonight.

“I understand… my lady,” he said heavily; you would not have thought it possible but your heart sank even lower. “You have a duty to perform, just as I have mine. It was a mistake to believe our futures could be entwined beyond that.”

“Do not be so eager to believe that this is the end of our future,” you whispered energetically. “My brother may yet return to us safely.”

“If he does, will your father still wish to choose a husband for you?”

You shook your head. “No. He has always been rather liberal in the care of his family. Not many ealdorman would allow their sons or wives to travel freely… or allow their daughters to marry whomever they please.”

“And who would it please you to become your future husband?” the knight asked, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. Looking down at you with a curious smile.

You blushed and cleared your throat, stalling. Of the interrogations you were subjected to tonight, this one was less unpleasant. But it still discomforted you greatly. “Someone below my own station… I prefer to pay no mind to such matters, but my father feels differently. He would only accept such a union if my brother survives long enough to rule in his place.”

“What will you do if your brother does not live?” your knight asked quietly.

“I… I do not know,” you admitted.

“Perhaps his death will not come to pass,” he said. “In the meantime, I shall offer my prayers for his safety… and for your happiness.”

“Thank you,” you said, wiping your eyes. You sighed as exhaustion took hold of you, forcing you to lean against your bedroom door for support. “Rest well, sir knight.”

“Rest well, my lady,” he said. He bowed his head to you before turning away.

Your thoughts followed him as his footsteps trailed off. His question made you restless for many nights, keeping you from sleeping peacefully. You labored over an answer in your waking hours as well, half-distracted when engaging with anyone other than your knight.

Nothing in your upbringing could have prepared you for this. To choose between your own happiness and the duty being forced upon you. Before you met your knight, you could tolerate the prospect of marrying someone you did not love. It seemed abstract enough that you could ignore it most of the time.

Now, though… at your current age, there was only one romantic prospect who could make you happy. And he was within arm’s reach, sitting next to you in your meadow. To be torn from him would be too painful to bear. Especially when you were moderately certain that he felt the same way.

He no longer stood over you on these trips to the forest, but sat next to you whenever he could, his knee close enough to almost touch yours. The brilliant teal of his eye mirroring the clear skies of the summer. More often than not, he was weary to the point of needing to nap during most of your outings. You always had to ask him to rest, as he never acknowledged how tired he was. He would always insist that he did not need to be sent home. But if he was ill or attending to some mysterious errand that cut into his sleep, he never divulged the truth no matter how much you fussed over him. When you asked if you both should attend prayers at church for once, he insisted that visiting the woods was more enjoyable.

Today, he seemed energetic enough, examining the blooms in the meadow, searching for purple coneflowers. When he found one in good condition, he would reach out and pluck it. Holding it delicately and passing it to you in a singular elegant, graceful movement. Helping you accumulate enough flowers for you to knot them together in a long chain.

“Have you come to a decision regarding my father’s offer?” you asked, holding up your handiwork. It was not yet long enough for your liking; it would need only a few more flowers before it reached the desired length.

He nodded. “It is contingent on your brother’s return.”

“How so?” You looked sideways at him. The sunlight gently illuminated his profile, dappled in warm gold and honey.

The coneflower he held between his thumb and pointer finger was an especially large one, almost the size of a coin. He studied it carefully, looking down his long nose in silent inspection. It seemed to pass muster, and he reached out to hand it to you. If he decided to tuck it behind your ear you would not have minded. You would have even enjoyed his touch. It was hard not to be disappointed when he dropped the flower into your outstretched palm instead. But you knotted it onto your string without complaint.

“If your brother arrives safely, then I will accept the position,” he said slowly. “If he does not, then I will stay on as your knight.”

“Why…?” you asked. He had told you many questionable things before, but this one piqued your curiosity the most.

“If your future husband is of questionable character then I must remain by your side to protect you,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Sir knight… thank you,” you said softly, touched by his thoughtfulness. “But I have already told you not to sacrifice your future on my behalf. I will not ask you to share my pain.”

“It would be painful enough to see you wedded to another no matter how far apart we are,” he said, voice low. His tone was steady, but a twitch in his jaw betrayed him. Still concealing the true depths of his upset. “I could never be without you.”

A thrill fluttered in your chest, a coal of excitement warming you. “Nor I you.”

He gave you a sad smile as he handed you another flower. It was the last one you needed. You added it to your string and knotted the ends together so it became a loop long enough to wear as a necklace. When you held it up to examine it, it made a lovely frame for your knight, long green stems interrupted by warm purple blooms, contrasting with the bright orange seeded hearts.

“No,” you said abruptly, dropping the flowers into your lap. You grabbed your knight’s gloved hand in both of yours, the leather warm and rough in your grasp. “You once wished to help me find strength, enough to defy my fate. I would ask that of you now.”

His eye widened and mouth fell open, face elongated in surprise. But he did not pull away from you as you trembled in fear, suddenly afraid that the knight would say no to your incoming request.

“Run away with me,” you said. “I will not wish to stay here if my brother dies. We could leave this life behind.”

His eye darted between your face and his hand held in yours. A bright gleam in the teal pool of his eye as he leaned in, “My lady… do not ask this of me. It would be a difficult life on the road. I would not have you suffer it.”

“But you would let me suffer as another man’s wife?” you asked. “That would be too cruel a destiny to endure.”

“What of your parents?” “What of them?” you asked defiantly.

“Would you have them suffer the loss of both their children?”

“I have served them well enough all my life. This duty they ask of me is the only burden I cannot bear.”

“You would have no coin or servants at your disposal,” he warned.

“I would rather live poor and free than imprisoned with all the comforts of the world,” you said. “And I could survive it all if you were with me, sir knight.”

You let go of his hand to grab your loop of flowers. You twisted it into a figure eight, looping one hole around your wrist. A tremble lingered in your hand as you held up the other half of the bracelet. It was meant for your knight if he would accept it.

“Do you truly wish to live this way?” your knight asked.

“I do,” you said simply. Raising the flowers higher.

He stared at you for a long time, watching, waiting for you to falter. When you did not, he threaded his own hand through the flower loop and gently clasped your hand. 

“I could imagine no greater happiness than joining you,” he said softly.

He lowered your hand to kiss it. Heat bloomed under his mouth where he touched you, a flicker of flame igniting at the contact. His breath soft as a wingbeat, a warm breeze gliding over your skin. Lips molding into the shape of your knuckles.

Your cheeks burned hotly, but you could not pull away. You did not want to. If your knight let go you would have taken his hand again. But he seemed to feel the same, turning your hand over to kiss the seam where your palm met your wrist. Pulling you close as if he meant to fill the scar on his lip with you.

“Sir knight…” you said, and he finally looked up at you, quiet adoration in his eyes. “Whatever fates should unfold, I hope to endure them together… with you.”

He nodded. There was no need for him to speak. His intentions were the same as yours. It was clear in how reluctant he was to let go of you when it was time to depart, how you had to be the one to gently pull your hand out of his grip. The flower chain fell off, and he pulled off his glove before wrapping it around his own wrist. Pulling his glove slowly over his new bracelet, careful not to dislodge any petals. Accepting your claim on him but concealing it from the rest of the world. A sign of your bond known only to the two of you. 

───────────────── ●◉◎⚜◎◉● ─────────────────

The thrill of your knight’s promise did not wane when you returned home. Even as your anxieties rose for your brother’s safety during evening prayers, it was heartening enough that you were bound to your knight regardless of your brother’s fate. Despite yourself, you could not help but wonder how to prepare for your potential escape. After all, your parents were looking for your potential suitors even as your brother still lived. It was a race against time.

There were many questions you had to consider for the planning. You meant to bring them up with your knight at your next outing, but he did not join you for breakfast. His absences were few and far in between, only brought upon by illnesses so severe that even his stubbornness could not bear him through. But in his years of service, this was the first time he had failed to notify you. None of your other attendants knew of his location or his health, leaving you to worry endlessly. It had you afraid to leave your father’s hall as if you might receive news of your knight’s whereabouts, if only you waited long enough.

The waiting was not long before a commotion interrupted your meal. One of your father’s scouts burst into the room, stalking straight to your father’s seat. He made to scold the man for his interruption but stopped himself when the scout leaned in to whisper. Whatever news was shared had your father smiling and sighing in relief.

He clasped your mother’s hand as he turned to her. “Our son lives. He is at this very moment arriving at the shore—”

Impatience had you leaping out of your seat, leaving your parents and unfinished food behind. It was good news to be sure, but one you wanted to confirm with your own eyes. You ran to the stables and took the fastest horse. Galloping away even as your servants called out after you.

You rode and rode and rode, driving the horse to its limits. Trees blurred past you, branches catching on your dress. Soon, you stopped at the top of a tall hill that gave you a high vantage of the woods.

The main path leading to your father’s estate was occupied by a fairly large retinue of men. Despite the years you had spent apart, your brother was easily recognizable. A little taller and now sporting a beard, but he was the same beloved sibling you had grown up with nonetheless.

And who should be riding beside him?

It was none other than your knight.

More enthusiastic than ever, you urged your horse downhill. It trotted slower than you would have liked, but the descent was steep and forced you to exercise caution. Your brother rode ahead in the procession to meet you as you arrived on the road.

“Sister!” your brother called out as his horse and yours lined up side-by-side. He grinned brightly at you. “It’s good to see you.”

“I missed you,” you said joyfully. And you sincerely did, to an even greater extent that you did not realize until seeing him again. You would have hugged him if you could.

“You look well! Have you grown smaller?” he teased.

“You grew a beard,” you chuckled. “If I had known then I would have been less afraid of you drowning. It seems large enough to help keep you afloat.”

“The winters abroad are much colder than the ones at home. If you had to endure them, you would want a beard as well,” he laughed. “How are our parents?”

“They are well. We were eating breakfast when we heard you arrived,” you said. “I imagine they are preparing for your return at this very moment.”

“Did you come out here because you wanted to see me?” he said. “Your knight did the same.”

“Oh?” you turned around, looking for him. He was riding several paces behind you, nodding in greeting. Still too far away to join your conversation.

“He said he awaited my arrival at the shore every morning before attending to you,” your brother said. “He hoped to escort me home personally as a gesture of welcome.”

“He did?” that would explain why your knight had been so tired lately. Perhaps he even wished to deliver the good news to you himself. You turned behind you to call out to him, “Thank you!”

Your knight nodded and smiled, a small one that tilted the line of his mouth upwards ever so slightly. Were it not for the distance you would have thanked him more profusely, but you turned to your brother again, conversing about everything that had occurred in his time away. Once you arrived home, your brother whisked you away to greet your parents together.

There was much to be done in the improvised celebrations of your brother’s return. Admittedly, much of the work would be carried out by your servants, but your mother made you clean out your brother’s room, which you had been using to store books and trinkets that would not fit in your own. Then he enlisted your help in unpacking his possessions, among which were many fascinating gifts he bestowed upon you and your parents. These and the tales he regaled you with would normally have been very enthralling, but your thoughts kept straying towards something much closer to home.

No matter how hard you tried to focus on the family reunion, you kept thinking of your knight. The joy of averting a separation from him enhanced your happiness at your brother’s return. But he was nowhere to be found when you finally had a free moment. Word had spread that he had accepted your father’s offer and was to be sworn into his new position. However, there was the unfortunate fact that he had still abandoned his post as your knight this morning, even if only for a few hours. Despite your protests, his actions still warranted a punishment, albeit a mild one: for the feast tonight, he was to be stationed outside your father’s hall, outdoors in the cold. 

Although you had not finished your breakfast earlier, you still had no appetite for the dinner feast. All dining and entertainment were less engaging than your knight’s company. But you could not find a polite time to excuse yourself, not until much later when your brother himself had enough of the festivities. When you departed the dinner table, you did not head straight to your room. Instead, you wandered out.

Your knight was once again nowhere to be found.

Still, you walked back inside with a spring in your step. There was always tomorrow.

The halls were still bustling with servants clearing away the remnants of the celebrations, but the noises faded behind you as you climbed up the stairs to your bedchambers.

Standing outside your door was your knight. Waiting for you.

“Silco—!”

He swept you up in his arms, kissing you. His lips molded soft and gentle against yours as his arms wound around your waist, pulling you tight against him. You kissed him in turn, feeling the notch of his scar against your own mouth. The chill of the evening air still clung to his chainmail sleeves, but you were so warm. Excited and thrilled at him finally touching you. Satisfying your yearning for him as he crushed you against him, as if he meant to rid everything standing between you, even the very air itself.

Your own arms wound around his neck. His eagerness at your reciprocation made him sloppy, growing more insistent as he flicked his tongue against your lips. Prompting you to open your mouth wider so he could taste more of you. Each pass of his tongue inside your mouth thrilled you, molten heat and passion gliding down your throat to pool deep in your core. When you moaned, the shape of his kisses changed as he grinned, the carved shape of it still pressing against you. He pulled away, staring deep into your eyes as his own was half-lidded, hazy.

As much as you would have enjoyed spending the night standing there in his arms, you needed to move. You grabbed his elbow and pulled at him, striding to your door and slamming it shut behind the both of you. Then you turned and hugged him, kissing him again. He was soft again, slow, breathing you in deep as he held his lips against yours for long, ponderous moments, savoring the feel of you against him.

“My lady…” he said in a low voice, beholding you with his good eye. His gaze was reverential, his hand holding your cheek as you nuzzled into it. So careful with you as if you were a bubble that might burst.

“Silco…” you whispered, saying his name only for the second time since he was sworn into your service. There had been countless times you wished to speak it out loud but could not find the courage to do so. It felt less strange in your mouth as you said it now.

He closed his eye as he resumed kissing you, shallow breaths puffing against your face. “I have craved you for so long…”

“Then sh-show me,” you stuttered as he planted kisses on your lips, your cheek, your eyes, your forehead. Your own kisses landed clumsily on his chin and neck as you fumbled with his belt, attempting to pull it off. Silco was just as eager but more careful as he helped you out of your dress and underclothes. They slid off your skin smoothly as he carried you to your bed, naked as the day you were born.

After he set you down, he pulled off his clothes until he wore only his trousers. You spread your legs for him instinctively as he climbed onto the bed, caging you in with his arms as he hovered over you. But he made no further advances as his eye traced up and down your body, enjoying your nakedness underneath him. You blushed even as you reached out for his eyepatch.

He intercepted your hand as it touched the edge of his accessory, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss once again. You bit your lip, shyly nervous but determined as you said, “Silco… I wish for you to see all of me. I want you to see that I am entirely yours, in heart, soul, and body.”

Silco looked up from your hand, staring into your eyes again. You held his gaze, unwavering in your resolve. Then he let you go, slowly lifting his eyepatch off, disturbing his hair from its careful styling. He tossed it to the ground and leaned in to kiss you again. Crushing your breasts against his bare chest, the heat of his rough skin amplifying the fire already thrumming through your veins. You whimpered as he ground his hardened cock against your core, still able to feel the thick shape of it even through his clothing.

“Do you— will you do the same for me?” you asked breathlessly. Suddenly insecure that he did not want you as you wanted him, since he had not fully stripped yet.

“Do not mistake my slowness for reluctance, my lady,” he said roughly, still kissing you. “A thousand times I imagined this moment… and yet there are no words for the depths of my desire to ruin you.” He whispered that word into your ear, emphasizing it with another grind of his pelvis against you, rubbing against your bud. You whimpered as it set off a delicious spark in your core, your cunt clenching around nothing. “I must exercise restraint, or else I fear I may hurt you.”

He planted kisses down your neck, mapping his way down your chest, as if he hoped to memorize the feel of your body under his lips. When he reached your breasts, he kissed between them, sucking to leave his mark on you. Arousal stirred inside you, swirling like smoke disturbed by wind. He moved to your nipple, teasing the shape of it, curling his tongue around it. Then leaning in to suck, still flicking it heavily with his tongue. You shuddered as he cupped your other breast with one hand, propping himself up with his other arm. Gently holding it, familiarizing himself with how it rested in his palm. Then he squeezed, rolling his fingers into your flesh. Heat and excitement curling in your core, settling between your legs as your breathing grew shallow.

You rocked your hips into him, needy for more. He looked up at you as he obliged, his eyes a piercing gaze of lust, most likely mirroring your own. His hand trailed downwards, following the rise of your ribcage and fingertips dragging down your waist. Then he cupped your sex, thumb pressing lightly against your bud. The touch shot lightning through you, zipping up your spine and lighting up every nerve along the way. He rubbed it slowly, as if pushing on curling petals to help them bloom. Your breathing grew shallow and erratic, the combined attentions of his mouth and hand winding a tightness deep in your belly.

It startled you when he traced the shape of your entrance, gathering your already dripping slick on his finger. Sliding between the lips of your sex before pushing his finger inside you. Curling it against your walls, sending sparks rising, rising, rising ever higher. Your cunt clenching around him as he added another finger, reaching so deep inside you. 

The band in your core snapped, tension bursting as you came. He kept rubbing, adding a third finger in his relentless movements inside you. Having you come undone and cresting waves of pleasure, long and low as you slapped your own hands over your mouth to muffle your cries. Your walls fluttered around his fingers as he finally slowed. When he pulled them out, they were covered in your slick, slightly pruned from the wetness inside you.

Your heart hammered as he leaned in, lightly kissing your cheek to let you catch your breath. You turned to him, your nose grazing his.

“Silco…” you said softly. You raised a hand to touch him, brushing the shape of his cheek with your thumb. As if in response, he lay fully on you, his clothed cock settling against your core. But he made no further movements except to kiss your chest.

“I… I need you, Silco,” you said, huffing with want. He looked up at you with glazed eyes, clouded with lust.

“I need you too…” he admitted slowly. “But being forbidden from touching you… It is not an instinct easily overcome.”

“And yet, here we are,” you laughed softly. He lifted himself as you sat up, still hovering close to you. You held his face in your hands, cradling him gently. “I would have you take me as if you were a free man… Forget your station just this once.”

His pupils blew wide at your statement, his eyes darting between each of yours. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your face. “Are you certain? This is what you want?”

You nodded. “I— I only ask that you call me by my name, Silco.”

Still staring deep into your eyes, his mouth fell slightly open. “Can you stand?”

When you nodded again, he got off the bed, pulling you with him. He steered you gently but determinedly across the room, walking you to your standing mirror. Then he guided your hands to grip its engraved metal frame, his large hands warm as they enveloped yours, even as the mirror provided a refreshing coolness under your palms.

“Then I would have you watch me take you, as a free man,” he whispered in your ear. The sounds of him undressing were followed by the thump of his clothes hitting the floor. You could not see his nakedness as he stood behind you, but he nudged your feet with his own, adjusting your stance wider.

It was a vulnerable sight, seeing your naked self standing and leaning almost horizontal, grip tightening around the mirror. Silco slid his hands down your body to grab your hips, sending goosebumps rising on your skin. The tip of his cock teased your entrance before he finally, finally slid ever so slowly inside you. Inch by inch, your walls pushed apart before he was seated fully inside you, his pelvis resting against your backside.

He filled you perfectly, sending warm waves of pleasure radiating from your cunt, sinking you in warm bliss. A buzzing tingle cascading from your scalp to the very tips of your toes. Your panting breaths mingled with Silco’s as he shuddered, hooking his chin over your shoulder to kiss your neck.

“Can you feel me?” he asked lowly. One hand trailing from your hip to press against your lower stomach. He was solid and heavy inside you, your walls twitching around him. You whimpered, too breathless to do anything but nod.

“My lady…” he murmured into your ear. Then he stood upright again, pulling out of you before thrusting into you. His movements were slow and shallow, never leaving you empty for long, still becoming acquainted with the feel of your walls around him. A slowly climbing heat building inside you with every stroke, solidifying from a formless exhilaration into an unbearably hard knot winding tighter in your core. It was hard to stand steady, your whole body bouncing forward in time with his movements.

“P-please— Silco—” you panted in between whimpers. Your fingers curled tighter around the mirror, scrabbling for a handhold even as your senses faded to a near numbness. Only able to feel his cock sliding in and out of you repeatedly. “Say my name…”

“You misunderstand my meaning,” he said. “I mean to remind you that you are mine.”

Silco emphasized that last word with a snap of his hips, driving himself deeper than ever. You yelped as he hit something deep inside you, setting off a flare that overwhelmed you. Then his pace quickened, now plunging hard and fast into you.

“I could never let another man have you,” he panted. “You take me so well because you were meant for me— to take my cock and my seed for the rest of our lives— you are mine, and I will fill you endlessly even after your belly swells with our children—”

“M-make me yours, Silco,” you whined. You turned to look at him. Disheveled locks of his hair hanging over his eyes, his teeth bared in a feral grin, so frantic as his pace quickened and his fingernails dug deep into your flesh. “Please—!”

“You are mine—” he grunted, the smooth tenor of his voice rumbling into gravel. “To touch, to hold— to love.”

His next thrust was his deepest one yet and it had you cumming, your orgasm snapping the knot in your core as the ecstasy overtook you, freefalling into a forest fire that completely engulfed you. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your screams. Your walls fluttering around his cock as he mercilessly kept pounding into you. He whispered your name finally, barely audible over the slap of his hips hitting your ass. It was said lovingly even as he chased his own release.

One last slam then he came, hot and thick ropes shooting into your womb, pumping and flooding deep inside you. The warmth that enveloped you burned higher as he hugged you tightly from behind, one arm barring across your waist as he pulled you even closer to him, a deep groan reverberating through his chest into yours. His other hand pulled yours away from your mouth as he kissed you, your whining muffled by his own mouth. He kept holding you even as the tides simmered down, gentle waves still lapping up your feet to lightly graze your core. 

Your legs trembled with the effort of keeping you upright, an ache between them already beginning to bloom into soreness. Silco pulled out of you, the combined slick of your releases dripping down your leg. He paid it no mind as he picked you up to carry you to the bed. You instinctively clung to him, refusing to let go even as he sat down. The sweat trailing down his neck tickled your nose as you nuzzled into him.

“My lady… forgive my presumptuousness,” Silco said agitatedly. He attempted to lay you down, but you stubbornly held onto him. Still weakened from before but determined to never be separated from him again.

You only pulled away from him just enough to look him in the eyes, placing one hand on his cheek to steer his gaze towards you. “Silco… I will not forgive you only because there is nothing to forgive. In fact, I am the one who must apologize to you.”

“Whatever for?” he asked, puzzled.

“For being so late in returning your sentiments,” you said softly. “I love you, Silco.”

Your confession shocked him, his eyebrows rising high and eyes widening. A teal pool and a hearth of coal that you could get lost in.

He smiled so brightly at you as he whispered your name reverentially, so overjoyed at being allowed to finally say it. “I love you too.”

You smiled and could not help but laugh happily. Resting your forehead against his as you gazed at him lovingly.

“Sir knight.”

“My lady.”

He took your hand and kissed your knuckles as you laughed again. Impatient for more, you yanked your hand out of his grasp to pull him into a hug, kissing him deeply. Wrapping your legs around his waist as he moved to lay you down, pinning you underneath him, ready to make love with you again. Indulging you as often as you wanted in every way you wanted. 

There would be much more planning to do in the future. But you could enjoy yourself for now, making memories that you would cherish forever. That you were finally in the arms of the one you loved. And that nothing could stand in the way of you being together. Only finding sleep a few hours before dawn, when your knight had to sneak back to his own room lest he be discovered in your bed.

Many months later after your wedding, he walked much closer to you. Your shoulder brushing up against his and your arm linked around his elbow. Side by side as it was always meant to be.

The End

[alj4890]

Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

(Maxwell Beaumont x Olivia Nevrakis) in a Choices The Royal Romance Crackship

A/N Sorry this took so long. Life always finds a way to interrupt my plans with all my series. This chapter takes place the night of Liam's coronation ball.

Masterlist

Chapter 7

"Where is the appeal?" Madeleine hissed.

Olivia shrugged. She wasn't about to humor the countess with commenting on what was unfolding before them.

The press were swarming around Riley and Hana as they made their arrival in a horse drawn carriage.

"We've been top contenders this entire time." Madeleine furiously whispered. "How in the world did some random American win over everyone?"

Olivia frowned somewhat as Riley gushed to the press about how sweet Hana was in giving her a lift to the ball.

"She's nice." She observed. "People tend to like that in others."

"Nice does not mean you can effectively rule a nation." Madeleine reminded her. "It doesn't help you know the ins and outs of life at Court nor does it give one the finesse of dealing with foreign powers."

"Then you better hope that Liam agrees with you." Olivia taunted. "Or else, you're looking at our future queen."

Madeleine glared at her. "And that doesn't bother you? You who have pined for Liam since birth can watch him choose this nobody? Where's that infamous Nevrakis loyalty to our country?! Would you curtsy to someone like her?"

Olivia rolled her eyes over how dramatic Madeleine was being.

"If she is Liam's choice, then who am I to argue against him? He's our king now, Madeleine. Like every other Cordonian, we have to learn to accept the decisions he will make."

Gathering her skirt, she left the countess staring in disbelief.

***************

Oliva went directly to her chambers shortly after dinner for a chance to prepare for what was still before her.

Once alone, she took a deep breath as she began to plan for how the rest of her night would go. She knew she still needed to give Liam his gift, then she'd be forced to mingle and be seen at the ball.

She would have to find a way to sneak out and meet Maxwell at some point from the beginning of the ball until Liam made his choice. Then, if things progressed like she planned, they might even meet up again after the ceremony.

A thrill went through her at the thought. She'd done little throughout the day except think of how she felt in Maxwell's arms. It surprised her how easily his touch set her nerves to singing. She actually wanted to see just how much he could make her burn.

She walked over to the window, gazing out at her chosen spot. Her brow furrowed with the sight of servants going about the hedge maze to light lanterns at each of the numerous twists and turns.

"That's out." She decided.

The last thing she needed was to be caught under one of the lanterns in an illicit embrace with Cordonia's most fun loving lord.

She twirled about and began to pace. She needed a more private spot, one either dark or barely lit to begin this affair.

She considered other hidden nooks in the palace. The conservatory was somewhat ideal, but it smelled too much like wet dirt and fertilizer. The music room was far enough away from the ballroom and even soundproof, but there was no lock on the door. The library always had people coming in and out to have a break from the crowded ballroom. Even the various dens and studies left little to be desired in terms of privacy.

Her eyes darted to the king sized bed in her room.

We will have to be careful coming up here. If anyone saw the two of us going into my room, would they think we were meeting for something else or for sex?

Did she really care what conclusion anyone came to? Liam was choosing Riley this evening. It wasn't like Olivia was being unfaithful to him. And where would be the proof, even if someone did see her with Maxwell? Once the door shut and was locked, no one would know what went on behind it.

"It'll have to be here." She said to herself. "There's nowhere else we can go tonight."

Once her mind was made up on any subject, she did not like waiting around for it. Her lack of patience combined with her innate determination made being with Maxwell a forgone conclusion.

She wasn't above admitting she wanted him. The question that reverberated in her mind was a simple one: did she want Maxwell for life or merely for sex?

She knew his feelings for her went beyond a simple affair...but did hers?

Wrinkling her nose over something she wasn't quite ready to answer, she turned on her heel to check her reflection one last time.

Movement out of the corner of her eye made her still.

Glancing at the door, she noticed a letter that was slipped underneath.

Jerking her door open, she looked up and down the hallway filled with various nobles and dignitaries going in and out of their suites.

"Bastien!" She called out to one of the guards.

"Yes, your grace?"

"Did you see anyone stop by my door?"

The guard's eyes briefly touched on the envelope in her hand.

"No, your grace." He nodded towards the mysterious letter. "Is something wrong?"

"No." She gave a brisk nod of farewell and shut the door.

It must be from Maxwell, she thought with a hint of a smile. He used to write letters to me all the time.

Ripping into it, she eagerly began to see just what romantic nonsense he'd come up with this time.

Her smile disappeared the moment the words registered. Line after line revealed information on her parents and their mysterious death. Every single traitorous activity they participated in was gone into great detail. Then, at the end, there was the threat to reveal everything if she didn't withdraw and leave before Liam picked his chosen queen.

"No." She clapped a hand to her mouth.

It can't be true! They were heroes! They loved this country! All they spoke of was making it and Lythikos better. Their loyalty was beyond reproach. They would never risk everything for a chance to rule Cordonia.

They'd never risk leaving me alone.

Her temper took over her initial devastation.

It's a trick! Someone wants to make me doubt them. Make me leave here in disgrace.

But who?

One of the suitors?

Madeleine's desperate to win this. She lost her chance to be queen once before. To leave a loser again probably weighs on her, but she's above blackmail. Penelope knows she doesn't stand a chance. She's too stupid to ever think of something this clever. Kiara's too intelligent to use baseless lies to get her way. Hana doesn't seem to have enough nerve to ever do something like this. And Riley...

She stilled.

Maxwell swore Riley was genuinely kind. Could she be the snake in their group, pretending to be all that is good in the world?

Livid, Olivia shoved the letter in the pocket of her dress.

Swiping up Liam's gift, she stormed out of her room.

*****************

"I know it was you." Olivia hissed.

Riley whirled around, eyes wide in confusion.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing," Olivia glared at her, "but it won't work."

"What are you talking about?" Riley asked.

Olivia studied her and realized it couldn't be her. Riley had no idea about anything that went on in Cordonia, much less it's history. Why would she concoct some story about Olivia's parents when it was well known they were heroes? She already knew she was Liam's favorite. What would she have to gain in destroying Olivia's peace of mind and forcing her to withdraw out of disgrace?

"You didn't send it." She whispered.

Riley gently touched her arm.

"Send what?"

"Forget it." Olivia jerked her arm away and stepped up to Liam.

She somehow got through talking to him about her gift and then managed to calmly walk into the ballroom.

Her green eyes darted over the crowd, wondering who was out to get her.

She nearly flipped the person over her shoulder when she felt someone's fingers brush her hand.

Eyes narrowed, she turned around to see Maxwell.

"Hey." His tender smile appeared. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks." She mumbled.

"So?" He leaned closer. "When should we meet at the hedge maze?"

"That's not happening." She folded her arms, while glancing over his shoulder at the few nobles meeting in groups and pointing at each suitor.

They're either trying to figure out who Liam will pick or something worse. Am I the only one who received a threat tonight?

She then noticed the devastation forming on Maxwell's face.

"We're not happening?" He whispered.

"No, we are." She snapped. "Just not at the hedge maze."

Huffing in irritation, she hissed, "Meet me in my room in exactly one hour and ten minutes."

Before he had a chance to agree or say anything remotely how excited he was, she left him to mingle.

*************

"You seem excited." Riley teased as she tried to remember the dance steps.

"I am!" Maxwell grinned at her. "Tonight's the night where all our dreams will come true."

"I know I'm dancing with our future queen." He squeezed her hand before twirling her. "You will have your happily ever after. Liam will be with the love of his life. Bertrand will calm down and make it to forty without having a stroke."

"You really believe that." Her smile grew over how his words never ceased in boosting her confidence. "I love how you never doubt that everything will turn out like we hope."

He sighed softly as he thought of the one thing that made him feel so completely happy.

And I somehow ended up with the woman of my dreams.

"Have I thanked you for, well, everything?" Riley asked.

Maxwell's grin turned bashful. "I didn't do much to be thanked."

"Only encouraged me every single second. You have been by my side the entire time and made time for me and Liam to be alone." She reminded him. "You were the only person to believe I belonged here. You gave me the chance to see if Liam and I could have something more than some flirtation."

When the dance ended, she hugged him.

"You'll always have my thanks, Max, no matter how tonight ends."

He hugged her tight then noticed the stares they were receiving.

"Come on." He pulled away and tucked her hand in the bend of his arm. "Let's go see what they have to snack on."

**************

Between keeping an eye on the clock and discreetly interrogating the other suitors, Olivia's nerves were on edge.

There were times she'd stepped outside to reread the letter in an attempt to guess at who wrote this. One thing that bothered her about it was the amount of detail. There were dates and locations of where her parents had gone. This wasn't some simple threat that someone made up. There were claims of pictures and documents that would prove to the public the depth of her parents' betrayal.

Could it be true? Could they have done all this?

She knew her ancestors were notorious for doing whatever was best for themselves. A Nevrakis was known, not only for strength, but in using that strength to secure as much power as they possibly could by any means necessary.

Could her parents have been of that mindset? She recalled all the training they put her young self through. The speeches of how she needed to know how to handle herself if she was to one day rule.

Dear God. I thought they meant to rule as the Duchess of Lythikos. Did they really mean for me to rule as queen?

Her attention snapped from the letter to one of the outdoor bars. Sliding into the shadows, she hoped to overhear something that might point her towards a possible culprit.

Bertrand Beaumont was clinking glasses with, of all people, the former crown prince.

"It's been too long since we had a drink together." Leo added after taking a long sip. "How have you been?"

"Fine." Bertrand took a healthy gulp of his glass of bourbon. "I'll be even better once this night is over."

"I think everyone will." Leo snickered. "Liam is hiding it, but I think he's anxious."

"He has every right to be." Bertrand added. "He did just become king."

"It's not that." Leo rubbed the back of his neck. "It's about his choice. I think I might have ruined that for him."

Bertrand paused with his drink halfway to his lips. "How?"

"When I decided to abdicate, I thought Liam would have time to adjust. I didn't expect Father to make him immediately choose someone to marry, much less put him through this asinine social season." Leo grumbled.

"I understood why Father made me do it." He added. "I caused trouble everywhere I went." He downed the rest of his drink. "But Liam, he's always been the one to follow the rules. He never rebelled. Never gave anyone a reason to make public apologies on his behalf."

He sighed, motioning to the bartender for another round for the two of them.

"I worry that his sense of duty will deny him a chance at true happiness." He added.

"Perhaps not." Bertrand picked up his new glass. "King Liam seems to be rather fond of our suitor."

"Riley, right?" Leo grinned. "I've heard a lot about her these last few days."

"Nothing scandalous I hope." Bertrand shuddered. "House Beaumont can't afford even a hint of scandal."

"Nothing like that." Leo chuckled. "In fact, I think that..."

Olivia felt her heart drop. Bertrand's words echoed in her mind, drowning out their conversation, as she looked down at the letter in her hands once more.

House Beaumont can't afford even a hint of scandal.

If this letter ever got out to the public, her life would be ruined. No one would trust her. Any children she might one day have would be forced to hide in shame. Maxwell would be tainted by association.

He might even be forced by Bertrand to never see her again.

Gripping the letter that had the ability to implode her very existence, she quietly slipped back into the palace.

**************

Maxwell did his best to walk both discreetly and as if he wasn't in any hurry to wherever he was going. He glanced over his shoulder every few feet to make sure no one was following. The few times he caught someone behind him, they paid him little attention and ended up turning down a different hallway.

His heartbeat picked up speed once he was a few doors down from Olivia's room. He wasn't exactly sure how far tonight would take his relationship with her, but he knew he was willing to go any distance she wanted.

Tonight would be, at least he hoped, the beginning of many, many nights together. His mind was filled with plans for their future. Dates to sweep her off her feet were considered. Special places from their past were thought of as possible backdrops to when he finally professed his love to her. Time spent in each other's home to think on which one to use for a possible wedding if he was lucky enough to receive a yes to his proposal.

All this and so much more was within his grasp. After all the years of yearning and trying to get her to see him, he'd finally won. The dream was a reality. He could at least relax and know that nothing stood in his way.

Pausing before her door, he took a deep breath, glanced once more around him, and quietly knocked.

Olivia opened it, grabbed his shirt collar, and yanked him inside.

He didn't have a chance to say anything. The moment the door shut, she shoved him against the door to kiss him.

His body instantly reacted, pulling her close and kissing her back with all the passion he had just for her.

She moaned in delight, hands quickly getting to work on unbuttoning his shirt.

She broke away from his mind numbing kiss to unbutton his pants. Her eyes closed the moment his lips touched her neck.

"Get those off." She demanded when he seemed to ignore her efforts.

"What's the hurry?" He kissed her again.

She bit down on her bottom lip. She knew why she was hurrying. This was probably their only chance to be together.

Her decision to leave before Liam announced his choice was made the moment she realized that scandal would ruin her chances with Maxwell. She needed to discover the truth about this letter, and unfortunately that meant investigating on her own.

She couldn't involve anyone else. If she did, she might have to stand there and watch them walk away from her. It was best for everyone if she left them. Then, her heart would be protected. She wouldn't have to face being turned away in fear or disgust that she shared a bloodline with possible traitors if she distanced herself from those she actually cared about.

But for now, she'd allow herself this one chance to see what life might have been like, if she was free to be with Maxwell.

"We can't stay up here too long." She explained, unzipping her own dress. "People will definitely talk if we aren't waiting on Liam's announcement with the rest of them."

Her shimmery red dress pooled at her feet. With the way the gown was cut, it was impossible to wear a bra. Since she knew what they would get up to, she'd also decided against wearing any underwear whatsoever.

She felt her skin tingle in anticipation. Maxwell's bright blue eyes had darkened as he gazed upon her form. He hadn't moved a muscle as her dress slipped down her body. He'd only followed its path, taking in every bit of skin revealed.

Without a word nor taking his eyes off of her, he slowly shrugged out of his clothes.

Olivia felt her desire notch even higher. The serious expression on his face took her by surprise. She'd expected him to practically rush into her arms once she was naked. This unexpected side of him made her be the one to move towards him.

She draped her arms around his neck, pressing her pale body against the toned, hard planes of his own. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"Touch me." She nearly begged against his mouth.

His hands cupped her face, thumb brushing against her lower lip. Silently he moved them down her body, only pausing when she gasped or moved restlessly against him.

The lower he went, the more she wanted. Grabbing his wrists, she pulled him over the to bed.

She sat down on the edge and tilted her head up when he remained standing. Her eyes met his.

"Say something." She pleaded, feeling suddenly nervous over his continued silence.

Swallowing, Maxwell knelt before her. His hands ran along her smooth legs, his eyes never leaving hers.

In a gravely voice, he said.

"I want you. I've always wanted you."

He surged up, pushing her down on the bed, lips crashing on hers.

She moaned, pulling him as close as she could. Her breath hitched when he broke away to kiss down her body. Scrambling back some to give him more room, she cried out in ecstasy when his tongue brushed against the tips of her breasts. The moment his lips closed around and sucked, she ran her hands through his hair, keeping him there as he sent desire through her veins.

His moans and whispers of how perfect she was made her heart ache as he continued to worship down her body. His determination to kiss and lap at every single inch made her writhe and scream his name in a litany that surprised her. Every touch of his hands, his lips, and body made her wish for the impossible.

She didn't want to have to walk away from him.

The moment he slid within her, she couldn't help but think how right it felt. It wasn't all supposed to clock this easily or this quickly. Shouldn't her experiment need more time? Had she been denying the truth in front of her longer than she first thought?

Unnerved by the realization, she cupped his face and kissed him more tenderly than she'd ever done with anyone.

The slow momentum he'd begun stopped the moment she wrapped her legs around his hips. She urged him on, moving faster towards what they both needed.

He harshly cried out her name when she clinched around him. A breathless whisper of his own name escaped her as she succumbed to the sensations he'd caused.

They laid there, still connected and holding tight to one another as their breaths began to slow.

Maxwell rose up some on his elbows to look at her face. A tender smile formed as he saw the brief look of wonder in her sated expression.

"Wow." He said, softly kissing her. "My imagination really, really sucks."

She snorted in disbelief that he could make her want to laugh at a moment like this.

"Does it?"

He nodded, lips brushing hers once more.

"Nothing in my fantasies could possibly live up to tonight."

"I take it you enjoyed yourself?" She couldn't help but smile while thoroughly enjoying the feel of him pressing her into the mattress.

"Couldn't you tell?" He eased off of her, rolled into his back, and pulled her on top of him.

"Oh I could." She settled more comfortably against him. "In case you are the least bit curious, I liked it too."

His grin blossomed in hearing that. A part of her was tempted to go into how much she loved being with him and in how she didn't want it to end.

She knew she couldn't. This would have to be a one and done experience.

At least until I finish my investigation and destroy whatever evidence I discover.

And possibly dispose the body of my blackmailer.

It was odd to willingly remain in his arms to bask in the afterglow. Normally she couldn't leave or kick her lovers out fast enough. She never wanted to talk or simply be held. They'd provided a service to her passionate nature and were no longer needed.

But Maxwell...

She wanted this. She wanted to hear any ridiculous thing that came to his mind. She loved the fact that he needed to touch her. His hands drifting down her back in lazy caresses was exactly what she needed while gazing at his handsome face. She loved seeing how perfectly content he was in this moment.

It reflected her own feelings with him.

Knowing he would insist on when their next night together could be if she didn't say or do something, she pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

His arms wrapped around her with body already responding to her touch once more.

Moaning in frustration that they didn't have time for another round, she forced herself to leave his arms.

"We better hurry." She said while swiping up her dress on the way to the ensuite.

Maxwell hopped off of the bed and caught her before she made it inside.

He wrapped his arms around her from behind when she relaxed back against him and pressed a sweet kiss to her neck.

"Tonight meant everything to me, Liv." He admitted in a heartfelt tone.

Tears blurred her vision. She turned to respond with a deep kiss, holding him close for one last time before escaping.

Leaning against the bathroom door, she whispered.

"It meant everything to me too, Max."

**************

A short time later, Olivia found Liam talking to Riley in one of the acloves along the outer edges of the ballroom. Preparing herself for the inevitable, she told him she needed to speak to him.

When he seemed reluctant to leave Riley's side, Olivia blurted out that she was leaving.

"Why?" He searched her eyes for a sign of why she would leave before the ceremony was completed.

"There's no reason for me to stay." She glanced at Riley, hoping he would think it was because of her she was leaving.

She couldn't tell him the truth, especially when she wasn't certain what the truth was.

Liam stepped closer, lowering his voice to a whisper.

"What about the person you told me about? Don't you want to see if it's love or--"

She shook her head. "That's not going to happen now."

Saying goodbye before he could question her further, she turned on her heel and left all while ignoring the couple calling out for her to wait.

She made it outside and down the steps of the palace before being stopped.

"Wait a second!" Riley breathlessly pleaded. "Are you okay?"

"Like you care." Olivia snapped.

"I do." Riley gripped her hand. "I wouldn't chase you down if I didn't."

"Why would you?" Olivia grumbled, wrenching her hand free. "It isn't like we're friends."

"I thought we were on our way to being just that." Riley argued.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I don't have time for this."

"Yes, you do." Riley moved and blocked her way into the waiting town car. "Now what's going on?"

Olivia handed over the letter. She didn't know what possessed her to trust this woman with it, but she suddenly wanted someone to know the truth of why she was running away. For some reason, she believed Riley would keep this secret.

Either I'm a fool for giving her something to hold over me, or she really is all that Maxwell claims.

Without a word, Riley scanned the contents, her mouth dropping open when she got to the end.

"Who did this to you?" She demanded.

"That's what I'm going to find out." Olivia snatched the letter back .

"We need to find them and demand the truth." Riley said, her own temper snapping at the thought of someone blackmailing Olivia.

"We?" Olivia laughed without humor. "There is no we in this. I have to find them. You," she sighed, "you have to go be with Liam."

"You're going to need help." Riley insisted.

She reluctantly stepped out of the way so Olivia could get into the backseat.

With the window rolled down, the fiery duchess reached out and grasped her hand in quiet gratitude.

"I'll be fine on my own."

"Do you think it's true?" Riley asked.

"I don't know." Olivia went to let go and found Riley holding tight to her hand once more.

"I promise I'll help you. I won't tell anyone that you're being blackmailed. Just tell me what you need and we'll get to the bottom of this. You shouldn't have to--"

"Stop." Olivia pleaded. She was surprised by Riley's fervent speech to help and by her own temptation to accept it. "Thank you, but you can't."

Easing her hand away, she nodded towards the palace.

"Go be with Liam. He needs you more than I do." She lowered the privacy barrier and told her driver she was ready. "And Riley?"

"Yes?"

"Watch your back." Olivia warned.

[redlestat]

hannibal season 2 thoughts

this was my first time watching the show and all of this are all my own opinions. i do not have any knowledge of the show except of what i have watched

PLEASE DO NOT SPOIL SEASON 2 TO ME AS I HAVENT WATCHED IT YET

i genuinely don’t know where to begins my head was so clear in s1 but right now im 🙂

“did you think you changed me like i changed you” “i already did”

this exchange resumed the whole season perfectly.

when will will was in the BSHCI he changed, he accepted this part of him he tried so hard to refute for both reason :

- understand hannibal and dive into his darkness to catch him just like he would do to a crime scene

- everyone think im insane why fight it and just embrace it. he has nothing better to do anyway

as the season goes, it is evident will is becoming hannibal-like and we see that the whole season, the way he thinks, he even adopts hannibal’s sense of style and hairstyles. The empathy that once defined him isn’t that noticeable anymore.

for exemple he orchestrated all by himself and in his own mind hannibal’s murder by manipulating the nurse and hannibal in the process. he only had one purpose and it was to get hannibal and he was willing to do anything no matter the consequences. He doesn’t stop even after his release. he chose to go back to hannibal to enter his mind to uncover the truth, find evidences and expose him. He was well aware it meant being under hannibal’s manipulation again and i think Will lost himself in confusion between who he really was, what he wanted, his objectives and his feelings towards hannibal wether it was platonic or romantic.

When bringing human meat to hannibal was to please hannibal, to make him think they’re even more identical that he thought but also to understand hannibal’s world. We know freddie lounds isn’t dead and will would never bring animal meat as Hannibal would recognize the authenticity of the meat so in my opinion it’s Randal Tier as we saw that will had part of him in his refrigerator.

at the end will had to choose between his loyalty to justice and hannibal and he chose both. im convinced will was never going to let that dinner happen, but he couldn’t just run away with hannibal because his empathy couldn’t abandon jack and his sense of justice behind, he probably would have surrendered himself with proof that hannibal’s was the chesapeake rippers.

in the first half of this season, i really hated hannibal. I think it’s because we didn’t get to see his friendship with will wich balanced things out in season 1 . Plus he didn’t have a psychiatrist anymore, we couldn’t understand him or what he was doing. Not being able to understand hannibal was a big struggle for me this season, to connect or feel bad for him. he was unpredictable, unreadable.

hannibal started to become more like will, because he started to have feelings, started to have empathy and something/someone to care about. he saved jack’s wife because he valued their friendship, he killed the judge because he could not bear to have will get the death sentence.

hannibal didn’t kill abigail because he wanted to create a “family” with Will, he wanted to give will a child. family was never something he anticipated before.

his thing was alana was weird it showed us how far hannibal is willing to go, he obviously didn’t love her or have feelings for her it was all to manipulate her and to let will only have one person which is him. To me it’s also Hannibal's desire for control as he felt his influence over Will slipping. Controlling someone like Alana, who seemed more susceptible, gave him a sense of stability amidst the chaos. It showed his need to maintain power in his world, even as things fell apart around him. But in reality he still had will and everything under his fingers besides will being aware of the manipulation he still went in.

this whole season was how will and hannibal cannot bring to kill each other no matter how much they needed to. when hannibal sent randal tier he for sure knew will would kill him. He sent him to satisfy will’s need to kill more than anything else.

will pointed his gun at hannibal far enough to kill him but he was never able to pull the trigger. he told peter “i envy your hate because its makes it easier to kill”. that’s why he cannot get to kill hannibal because no matter everything hannibal has done, Will cannot get himself to hate him. he loves hannibal, he wants to spend time with him even if it in a very toxic environment.

in season 1 it was unclear what type of feelings they had for each other but it’s very clear this time, undeniable. it cannot have words to describe it but its beautiful in it’s own way.

no one knows them better than each other. Despite the lies, the covers they aren’t themselves more than when they are together. They never say it explicitly but they know. Every of their dialogue is a love letter.

here are my favorite quotes that are worth a thousands i love you

“ do you have a shadow peter?, someone only you can see, someone you considered a friend, he made you feel less alone”

“i would kill you with my hands” “guns lack intimacy”

“stay with me” “where else would i go”

i need to talk on this one. Hannibal made sure will had no one in his life expect him so when will said this, it’s a mix of resentment towards hannibal control over his life and entourage but also the fact that even with that he wants to be with him in such situations, because he feel safe and understood despite the facades and the danger.

“we know where we are with each other, shouldn’t that be enough?”

the achilles and patroclus dialogue

they both know they can kill eachother at any time but they can’t stay apart for too long. even at the end, when hannibal felt the most betrayed and vulnerable, he couldn’t get himself to kill will. yes he stabbed him but hannibal knowledge of the human body is far enough for him to know what and what not could kill a man. He could harm him without killing him. hannibal killed his own sister but couldnt bring himself to to kill will. When he hugged will , it felt like he was apologizing, to feel him one last time, to show him that he does love him despite all of this. Will understood hannibal bc he felt the same thing at the beginning of the season. that’s why he didn’t defend himself and even if he did it would just be a battle going nowhere with no death.

i was surprised when Hannibal killed abigail, im not sure why he did it. Maybe he thought will loved abigail more than he loved him, or perhaps he didn’t want them to be together without him when he left or even to show him what it is to lose someone you love. He showed his control over will’s life once again.

This season was a roller coaster, the killings were even more beautiful than the first season, and the killers even more insane, making hannibal kind of look good. The cinematography, the transition, the parallels, the soundtrack were perfect.

My favorite scene was the dinner between will and hannibal when will brought meat. it was just perfect.

side notes: i loved jimmy and zeller and wished we have seen more of their dynamic. i understand that it is due to beverly passing but they brought a bit of laugh and fresh air in this very dark and cold blooded show.

[melonchanverse]

Hiii sweetpea! I'm sending asks! Also, I hope you're doing well. 🩷 I couldn't just pick one character, so here are a few!

Ichiro: 🧡, 🔥, 🌇 and 🐦‍🔥

Kaguya: 🧡, 🍊, 🐅 and 🍁

Beloved Nadeko: 🎃, 🐹, ✴️ and 🎇

hi!! and thank you nimo this ask was crazy 💀💀💀💀💀 i’m doing much better now!! hope you are okay too!! @einsatzzz tag you for nadeko mention

anyway LONG ASS ANSWER

if you wanna leave an ask - 🌇

🧡 (orange heart) - Is your oc honest? Why or why not? Are there only specific people they’re honest to?

yes, ichiro values honesty highly. he always tries to be honest, but in the mafia world, absolute honesty isn't always feasible. sometimes he unknowingly engages in dishonest practices for the greater good, but it doesn't sit well with him either. despite this, he still strives to be as sincere as possible. he wouldn't allow someone to be consistently kept in the dark.

🔥 (fire) - What drives your character in life? Is it a belief? A person? A goal? Whatever it is, what do they want from it and what are they willing to do to get it?

for ichiro, his burning ambition and drive come from a deep-seated sense of loyalty to his family. his primary goal is to ensure the well-being and safety of everyone he holds dear, especially his siblings. he’s willing to go to great lengths to protect them and safeguard their happiness, even if it means taking on seemingly impossible tasks. although loyalty to his family serves as the primary force propelling him forward, he also possesses a natural talent for leadership

🌇 (sunset) - What does it take for your character to trust someone? Do they have to prove themselves? Or does your character not trust anyone no matter what? What made them this way?

ichiro is quite a cautious person and doesn’t easily trust someone without sufficient proof. he doesn’t outright distrust everyone, but he does require time and tangible evidence before he’ll fully trust someone. this guarded nature is due to his experiences and the harsh realities of the mafia world. he’s seen deceit and betrayal, and it’s made him wary of others’ intentions. he needs to see some level of authenticity and consistency in someone’s actions before he’s willing to open up and trust them

🐦‍🔥 (phoenix) - What has your oc had to overcome to get to where they are now? Were the challenges emotional or physical? Would you say they had to go through a “rebirth”? How did they change, if at all?

ichiro's life, marked by his early immersion in the mafia, has been a series of challenges. he had to overcome emotional and physical obstacles from a young age, each one testing his resilience and character. these trials have indeed been akin to a “rebirth” for him. each hurdle has changed him, instilling a deep sense of responsibility, fortitude, and adaptability. he picked himself up bit by bit, staying strong for the ones he loves, as the mafia lifestyle demanded sacrifices and perseverance

🧡 (orange heart) - Is your oc honest? Why or why not? Are there only specific people they’re honest to?

kaguya is an interesting case when it comes to honesty. she values candor and doesn't beat around the bush, but her honesty can feel blunt and even a bit harsh at times. she tends to be brutally truthful with everyone, which often lands her in hot water. while she may hold back on certain things for nadeko's sake, she typically doesn't find the need to filter her words. so, you could say she's honest to a fault.

🍊(orange) - Is your oc more selfish or selfless? Are they willing to sacrifice themselves or their goals for others? Why are they this way?

kaguya has a unique blend of selflessness and selfishness. while she appears aloof and self-centered, she harbors a deep sense of loyalty and would sacrifice a great deal for those she cares about. for Nadeko, she is willing to put her own wants and needs aside to protect her. but her selflessness is born from a deeper motivation; she doesn't do it out of sheer altruism, but rather as a means to fulfill her own desires and needs.

🐅 (tiger) - What makes your character angry? Are they angry often? Does it take a lot to make them upset or are they quick to anger?

kaguya's temper is like a simmering volcano; it may not erupt constantly, but when it does, watch out. she’s not one to get easily angered, and she often maintains a stoic facade. however, if you cross certain boundaries or threaten what she holds dear, you'll quickly ignite her fiery wrath. it’s not so much that she's quick to anger, but more that when she does get angry, it's an intense and formidable force to reckon with.

🍁 (maple leaf) - What brings your character joy? Do they find happiness in the small things? Does it take a lot to cheer them up?

despite her exterior, kaguya does find joy in small moments. she may not display it outwardly, but the simple comfort of a quiet night, a satisfying conversation, or even a good meal can bring a subtle joy to her otherwise stoic demeanor. when it comes to being cheered up, it’s a bit more complex; she values genuine connection and understanding, and it takes something more than just a simple gesture or an empty platitude to genuinely lift her spirits.

🎃 (jack-o’-lantern) - What is your character’s greatest fear? Is it something primal like the dark or something specific like killer clowns? Did they gain this fear after a bad experience? Whatever it is, why are they scared of it?

nadeko's greatest fear is not something tangible or immediate like the dark or killer clowns, but rather a fear rooted in the depths of her soul. born and raised in a world where she is expected to uphold an image of perfection, her biggest dread is the loss of her identity. the fear that deep down, she isn't truly herself but a mere amalgamation of expectations and roles assigned to her. this fear stemmed not from a singular experience but from a lifetime of being trapped in a golden cage, constantly pressured to conform to others' definitions of who she should be.

🐹 (hamster) - How does your oc feel about animals? Have they ever had a pet? What made them feel this way towards animals?

nadeko has a soft spot for animals, particularly small and cute ones. she never had a pet growing up, her busy schedule and strict upbringing didn't allow for it. yet, she always felt a sense of comfort in the presence of animals.

✴️ (eight-pointed star) - Is there anyone your oc admires or looks up to? What qualities of this person does your oc admire? Do they want to be like this person one day?

nadeko doesn't have someone she consciously admires or strives to be like. her behavior towards her younger brother, Itsuki, can occasionally mirror the manner of their older brother, Ichiro, without her realizing it. perhaps there's a subtle influence from ichiro in how she interacts with her siblings, and it seeps into her actions without her fully recognizing its origin.

🎇 (sparkler) - If your oc had the chance to start their life over again, what would they change, if anything? How would this change them and the people around them? Would their lives be better or worse? Would they change anything in the first place?

if nadeko had the chance to start her life over again, she'd want to change the expectations and constraints that defined her existence. she'd yearn to break free from the chains of perfection and find her true self. this change would set her on a different path, creating a life free from societal norms and her own internal struggles. while it might cause pain for some, it would also bring a genuine sense of freedom and authenticity, affecting both her and those around her. the question remains, would she actually change anything in the first place?

[twost3ps]

So, out of curiosity for your swap, AU, how did the episodes work? I mean like if this is a swap version of the hotel, what's the main premise of it? Like I can get that Emily won't be redeeming sinners like Charlie would, but would she try to get Charlie to help her find a way to cure her father of his curse? Also, how did all the other children react to Charlie as their cousin? And final question what's Eve like and did the same events happen as in Canon you said that Abel was not Michael's child so I'm assuming that the he's still the child of Adam and Eve, and what about Roo and all the other main characters within Hazbin Hotel what are they doing now are they under contracts with the children?

Ngl ive been thinking or revamping the swap au or just changing some parts of it cuz it’s been a while but as of how it is currently, if my swap au were to exist like the hazbin hotel series, it would not follow the redemption plot hazbin does. While the topic of redemption is discussed by Charlie as a solution to a problem that would be present in the series, the main focus would be choosing loyalty between the family you have vs the family you choose.

While the story would be explored through the eyes of Charlie, the biggest conflict resides in Emily which would be Emily as she chooses between staying loyal to her family and what she knows and or if she will follow her cousin that brings this idea of hope to the people. Emily is a lot more sympathetic towards the sinners of hell, being young and not having witnessed the true horror of Adam’s condition in full. But she also knows Adam’s condition is tied to the population that exists on earth, so as more of humanity exists the more he has to purge. It’s Charlie who comes down to hell to redeem sinners out of trying to bring good but that brings consequences to her family. A few sure are fine but the more sinners come to be redeemed what would be left for Adam to stay sane? Charlie’s redemption is one thing but would they give Adam’s humanity and sanity back in exchange another concern because there is no guarantee heaven is going to do that, with their meddling from before. Charlie can promise that all she wants but if Emily does help her she really needs proof that the promise can be kept.

Idk I'm pulling this outta my ass ngl I thought about this like once :')

I don’t particularly remember saying Abel wasn’t Michael’s kid, I think you might be confusing me for Mint’s which Abel isn’t Mikes kid. If I did, it’s been a while and I dont think I’d keep that plot point tbh.

The siblings have varying degrees of hostility toward Charlie

Seth is the most carefree and most welcoming, albeit a bit suspicious of her

Awan comes next, more scrutinizing of Charlie. She’s probably toy with her wit and mind before deciding not really being entertained by her.

Abel, for as much as he can come out is neutral if not unamused by her being there. He thinks her naive and a nuisance.

Alclima as not amused or impressed, if not antagonistic toward her. She is hostile especially when Charlie brings around Vaggie into her presence.

Cain is outright hatful. He’s not as brutish or hostile but definitely does verbally deny any such thing

Eve does exist but Adam and her never meet after the apple

Most of characters are not under contact, only overlords find themselves under contract. The children either contact them to see how their soul farns are fairing, or they'll put them to fight each other in an arena for the kicks to see has the better pick

[cynthia39100]

Merlin rewatch -- S1E8: The Beginning of the End

Arthur is fair and smart LET HIM KNOW THINGS

Arthur started arguing with Uther from the very beginning when the druid boy hadn’t even been brought to the table. He knew Druids were peaceful right from the start! He was fair, he believed a punishment should fit the crime. He also said, “Showing mercy can be a sign of strength.” Let’s see when the writer decided it was a lesson he needed to relearn…

His pouty face was so cute <3

~~~

I had a lot of sympathy for Arthur even though it was more of a Morgana episode. He worked so hard, struggling between his loyalty to the King and his own better judgement. Uther wasn’t giving him a good time and Morgana wasn’t helping. I understand why Morgana didn’t want to clue him in, but she didn’t need to pretend to agree with Uther at that point. It just made Arthur’s life harder and frankly herself more suspicious. It’s not like Morgana hadn’t criticised Uther’s policy before.

She didn’t need to jibe Arthur when he came to search her room either. That man wasn’t even looking! He was eating fruits XD

~~~

Love Arthur’s face here~ He was so stunned to find Morgana. He hesitated so long and he looked around all the guards before ordering the arrest. It showed clearly that if there weren’t guards, he would have let them go.

This scene is proof that Morgana should drag Arthur into saving Mordred mission in the first place. Hell, she didn’t hesitate to drag Gaius into this, who probably would sell them out if Merlin wasn’t involved. She had never had a problem making Arthur do as she pleased anyway and Arthur had fought with his father about this matter in front of her.

~~~

Arthur said “It’s too late. He’s been caught.”when Morgana finally asked him to help, implying that if Morgana had come to him earlier he would have turned a blind eye. Again, He didn’t like the idea of executing the Druid man, let alone a child. But there was a line he wasn’t willing to cross. “I won’t betray him.” He said. A parallel to what Uther accused Morgana of. He was convinced by Morgana in the end, but I don’t think he was entirely wrong in that regard. It wouldn’t be right if he casually broke the law or antagonised the King when it suited him.

~~~

Once Arthur was included he made a good plan and executed it perfectly. Always loved a smart Arthur. He looked so good in that shot of him drugging the guards XD

How did he contact a druid camp though?? If it’s that easy they should all be killed by now…

<- Prev [other episodes]

[vaehbae]

Warmth. That was the feeling Sabine desperately needed as she embraced her dearest friend, Ezra, while they were alone in their shared tower.

It did not take long for her cherished partner to return the hug, feeling calmer as his arms wrapped around her body and held her firmly, yet gently at the same time, so as to not cause any discomfort for her.

It had not been long since Ezra had returned to Peridea with Hera in tow, and Sabine was fortunate to have been spared of the same fate he went through. To be trapped on an unknown world in a different galaxy, waiting years for someone to pick her up, and having to deal with the reality that no one could end up coming at all.

However, there were still many hardships to be taken on. Thrawn's return was the obvious factor, but Sabine had not yet taken the proper time to properly open up to Ezra about the pain she endured during the nine years of waiting and moping, especially when it came to the revelation of her clan's fate.

Ezra may have learned a tidbit about what happened to Sabine's family from Huyang, but he never got the full picture from her. On the other hand, when he wanted to apologize to her over what happened to her relatives, he was stunned when she all of a sudden embraced him tightly. He could sense her stubborn emotions trying to break free as her body shook in his hold, as well as that she was trying hard not to break down in tears. He knew Sabine was strong, there was no doubt about it, but whenever he saw her crying, he knew it was something very serious.

"You're all I have left..."

Hearing her whimper when she said those words, and sensing how vulnerable she was broke his heart as he hugged her. Ezra was no stranger to familial loss, as he had lost his own parents at an earlier age. At one point, he even felt brutally jealous towards Sabine since she still had her family alive and well.

Sadly, that was in past, and the current reality told him that Sabine losing her family proves that her struggles were no longer any different from his, and that the two would need to keep fighting for each other in order to live the life of peace they both equally crave.

"We'll get through this, Sabine... We have before, and we'll do it again."

Eventually, the Force-Sensitive Mandalorian was able to calm down as she relaxed her grip on Ezra's robes, pulling back slightly so she could look into his deep blue eyes.

"Together?"

His response to Sabine's question was proof of his loyalty and honor to his word, but by use of his own words as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

"Together." He responded after pulling away, his voice evident with care and affection, while he retained his steadfast attitude.

Sabine smiled weakly for a moment, deciding she wanted a repeat performance as she cupped his cheeks and pulled his face towards hers again.

THIS IS WHAT I NEED TO HAPPEN! I swear at times I think the fan base has better writing than the professionals.

This is amazing! So much emotion and well-thought-out descriptions of how they are feeling in the moment! UagH! I'm so touched! This is beautiful! thank you for sharing.

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Could you write something really angsty for Nikolai or Tolya

… or Matthias. He needs more fics too

Angst if my first language so, sure can do.

So this is one of a few ones I will be writing to the same song, because Half Life is giving such big Grisha x Non-Grisha energy. The song screams Helnik and Zoyalai, that whole "you're grisha and you can do amazing things and I will offer up my pathetic human life in service to keeping you safe if that's what it takes," energy. So I'll do both.

Wars Were Waged For Less Honourable Things Than Love - Matthias Helvar

Content Warnings: Canon Compliant Threat, Violence, And Discussions Of Death. Prejudice. Fighting Rings. Sacrifice. Trading Places. Mentions Of Viewing Grisha And Prisoners As Property. Explicit Language. Canon Divergent Storyline. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Grisha!Reader

The wire that stands between the crowd of the cage match and the fighters feels like it's laced with acid as you curl your fingers around the loops. You're done looking for weakness, for broken links. You are the only broken link in this place.

You're waiting. You spend all your time waiting, for these agonising moments, the lead up to seeing him, and then the torment of watching, of seeing what comes next.

In the breaths before you see him again, you are forced to relive it over and over, those ruined and savoured memories before the cage, before the truth so brutally came to light.

Your bruises feel as fresh as the days you got them, even though they're long healed, you can see that look in his eyes as if he was standing in front of you, those eyes tearing into yours, the needing to know, the desperation to right the wrong.

Please, don’t ask me who hurt me. Please, don’t use those words.

You regret ever giving in, ever telling him, ever slipping up to begin with. It was one thing for Matthias to know what you are, what you do, and love you anyway. But standing against those who were raised on the same type of hatred but with looser laws and bigger capacities for hate towards Grisha. You were nothing more than a fighting dog to them, and when you escaped you had planned on never coming back. But Matthias' loyalty, his bonds, it's what made you think you could trust him to begin with, when Nina said you could you believed her, but you did more than that in the end. You fell in love with him.

And he fell in love with you. Something seeming even more unlikely.

And it landed him here. In this cage, taking your place as the prize fight dog. The crowd starts jeering and cheering in equal measure.

"They tried to take me back, I fought, they will keep coming back," you told him as he tended to your bruise.

"You need to leave," Inej stated, "while you can."

"I can't leave," you pointed out, eyes on Matthias, as he tried to not hurt you in cleaning you up.

"They need to learn that a wolf will not be a pet, no matter what you feed it," he stated, "and neither will you."

He had been so confident he could bring this whole thing down, and instead he just took your place, and you know, in the ways that make your chest hurt, he chose to do that. Better him that you. That thought was eating you from the inside out.

He is already injured before the fight starts. Never really getting what he needs to recover, never getting a real chance. They don't want to give him one, he is a winner, but they'd rather not the risk. Fjerdan makes him a risk. Crow makes him a risk. You make him a risk. Besides, they still want you, and until he falls, he is between you and them, and you and the cage.

You know he won't seek you out in the crowd, because a part of him, the part of him filled with pride and a need to protect hopes that you won't be there, watching, waiting. Because he doesn't want that for you. He doesn't want you to see him like this. But you're always there, and his eyes find yours in the crowd every time.

"Matthias," you whisper, knowing even if you screamed it your voice would not carry over the crowd.

You watch the fights, it is the hardest thing you ever do, but you watch them, as if taking your eyes off him might condemn him to failure, and failure here, like this could get him killed. It's harder than you ever found fighting to be.

Not that long ago, Matthias was on the other side of this battle, it was the Fjerdan fighting the Grisha, now it's the Fjerdan fighting for the Grisha. For those who changed him, for those who saved him, and for those who love him.

Nina places a hand on your shoulder and you flinch. "Come on, you shouldn't be here," she tells you, "you shouldn't be watching."

"Until your gangster finds a fix for this Nina, what else can I do?" you ask, the question makes your heart churn and stomach twist. You feel so sick and dizzied by it all.

"I want him out of here," Nina tells you, "you know I want him out, you know how I care for Matthias, how I have always cared for Matthias, you know that. I am doing everything I can, and so is Brekker."

"Not everything," you say.

"Matthias wouldn't allow it," she reminds you, and that only makes your heart ache more severe. Matthias, protecting you, making the others swear to do the same. Matthias. Matthias. Matthias.

"You didn't..." you inhale deeply and Nina guides you away from the crowd, despite your protest and how much you want to be there, at the fence, be with Matthias. "You weren't there, you didn't hear him."

"I can imagine the kind of thing he said," Nina assures you, but you are shaking your head before she even finishes her words.

"Not this," you tell her. "Not like this."

"Matthias?" You had asked, but you couldn't read him. You couldn't put it together, figure out what it was he was doing, what he was thinking.

"Can we go for a walk?" he had questioned. You agreed, you would have given him anything he had asked for, but you didn't realise what he it was he was trying to give you. Not until the words that ring over and over, rattling around in your mind like an endless echo.

"If this is the last time that we’ll еver borrow, I’ll give you my half life so you’ll see tomorrow."

You had known all too quickly and all too clearly exactly what that meant.

"He thinks his life is worth less than mine, how can he go so far in one direction that he is circling back on himself?" You ask. He had once thought you and Nina, all Grisha, were evil, not human. And now, his valuing you differently, as if you could mean more than him, be worth more than him.

"It's not because you are Grisha," Nina tells you, taking your hands in her own, "it's because you are you. That is what is worth more to him, you."

"I am not," you tell her. "I am not worth more than him, I am not worth anything without him."

"None of that," Nina says a little too sharply, only meaning to be stern. "None of that. We will fix this, we will, but I need you to not lose your head. You love him, don't you?"

Your eyes are burning when they meet hers. "Yes, Nina," you choke out, "I love him."

"And he loves you," Nina says, "so clearly, undeniably, unmistakably loves you, so I need you to hold onto that, okay?"

"There isn't anywhere that I wouldn't follow," you say more to yourself.

"Just focus on getting through till tomorrow," Nina says.

"I'm worried about him making it through till tomorrow," you say. You feel the threat to Matthias's life stronger than your own, his mortality feels more real than your own, more important than your own. You miss the irony of that.

"You two are truly cut from the same cloth," Nina whispers. "Let me take you home."

"I am not leaving him."

"You don't have much of a choice," she is trying to be gentle, she is trying so hard to get through to you but it isn't working. Your mind is overrun with all the pain and the worst case scenarios. You cannot listen to reason, you don't know how. You are walking away and shy of dragging you she doesn't know how to stop you.

You make it back to the fence, and the sight of the blood dripping down Matthias's arm makes you nauseated to the point you cannot tell if the blood is his or not. You're not sure which is really worse. His eyes meet yours and you feel everything stopping, time, sound, the beating of your heart in your chest.

"Go home," he mouths. Your heart comes back thumping so fast you're convinced it can be heard over the sounds of the crowd. You shake your head at him. "Go home," you hear his voice now, and it sounds stretched and deep, and you know how painful it must be for him to talk.

"Matt-,"

"Go," he says again before turning away. You feel your legs falling out from under you. Nina catches you, hands on your arms.

"Come on," she whispers.

"Is this is the last time that we'll ever borrow?" You whisper.

"Come on... I'll get you home, we can talk about it tomorrow."

[unusualindigo]

Adding onto what I said yesterday, as a fan of the Mohg character before SotE convinced a lot of the fanbase to woobify and bastardize him, the idea of Mohg as this, I dunno, hornsent messiah is downright insulting.

He makes a more than compelling villain, I hardly need him to be a wannabe Christ analogue to like his character.

Truth be told, the amount of people willing to throw Miquella under the bus just to glorify Mohg's own terrible actions or dismiss them outright by saying the charm made him do it makes me sad.

Mohg was, for all intents and purposes, a classic villain. He did terrible things thinking the world he would've made would've been better than the world he was born into. And it might've been. For him, and him alone.

Mohg, at his core, is just another tyrant in the making. We see it in how he treats his nobility (stringing them up), his surgeons (kidnapping and brainwashing them to compell loyalty rather than earning it outright), and the only defense we have comes from an old man we know to be a killer.

I doubt the mission statement of the Mohgwyn dynasty changed all that much post-charm. Mohg has always been underhanded and cruel. He had to be, by the very circumstances of his birth and childhood.

Again, I like Mohg well enough for what he is. He's a villain, cruel and calculating. He kidnapped Miquella because he knew he needed a god in his thrall if he was to be lord. He likely didn't even care about Miquella's own agency one way or another. It's just the way of things in their own terrible world.

I like Mohg for the terrible things he did of his own volition, not in spite of them. I love him because he's wrong.

Not enough people will do that, you know. Like a character in spite of what they believe and do being wrong.

Mohg and Gwyndolin have a lot of interesting parallels, for instance. Both use people, operate in the shadows, and lead murderous cabals that give them grisly trophies as proof of their loyalty.

The difference is, I think, that Gwyndolin was able to become something more than that, whilst Mohg, due to his own miscalculations, was bereft of the time necessary for such a thing to occur.

I'm rambling at this point, but the point is this: Mohg isn't a pure victim or would-be messiah, he's a calculating villain that found out all too late that his arms were too short to box with god.

I love you Mohg, for all your faults, sins, and general villainy. And in spite of the majority of your fanbase.

Rest in power, my bloody friend.