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homelanderbutbig · 4 months ago

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I Love You Too (G/T Homelander x Reader)

2248 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Beginnings of a relationship.

When you and Homelander officially became a couple.

Homelander has had this event burned into his brain, how exactly he wanted it to go. It would be like a scene straight out of the movies. You would be whisked away to a secluded beach by a horse-drawn carriage, where a private band would be playing your favourite song. You would walk along the rose petal covered sand to his waiting arms, where he would confess his love for you. You would return his feelings, and ask him to be your boyfriend. Of course he would graciously say yes, as if this wasn't all a part of his master plan. Lastly, you would kiss him as doves fly above your heads, and the starry sky is filled with fireworks.

He's been plotting like a madman all week, doing his damndest to set this up. A fairytale beginning to a relationship with you, as is befitting of a man of his impeccable standards.

And yet, just like everything else in his life, nothing ever goes as he plans. The people he's placed his faith in to get this together for him are not living up to his expectations. He's spending more and more time trying to fix their mistakes, to the point where it's consuming his every waking thought. Every failure keeps eating away at his resolution, to the point where he doesn't know if he should even go through with it anymore. If it isn't perfect, would you even accept his passionate admissions?

He's been avoiding you all day. It's a reality that's pretty hard to miss, considering he's the tallest man you've ever known. As the face of Vought's superhero team, the absence of his presence is odd. Or at least, it's odd that he seems to solely be eluding you. You happened to ask some of your co-workers who confirmed that Homelander was in fact in the Tower today, only furthering your suspicions. At least something serious didn't happen to him, but it doesn't make you worry any less that something's wrong.

When your shift ends in the evening, you do as you normally would and take the elevator up to his penthouse. You weren't certain that he would be there, but you're relieved to see him sitting on his couch in the living room. Regardless, he isn't his normal cheery self. He is a bundle of nerves taken the form of a man; his body language is so tense it's almost as if he hopes you'll leave by ignoring you. But you aren't that easy to deter.

"Hey Homelander, I didn't see you today. I was worried," you remark while you hop up onto the couch, taking your seat on the cushion next to him. He still won't acknowledge you, instead looking down at his fidgeting thumbs. His eyes are red and puffy; evidently he's been crying alone, only furthering your concern that there's something significant bothering him.

"You look like you have something on your mind," you say, tilting your head up at him. You place a hand on his thigh, as is customary when you need to coax the worries out of him. "It must be pretty important if you didn't want to talk to me about it. You know you can tell me anything, I won't judge you."

"I-I…" he starts, but quickly cuts himself off. His breathing stutters as he attempts to steady his composure. This was not how he wanted this moment to happen, with him grovelling at your feet and you holding the power over him. He is the world's strongest supe; he is the one who should be in control, not you, a measly human.

"I'm here for you, take your time," you reassure him, grasping his index and middle finger with your hand. Those two big fingers are all that will fit in your palm, but you still squeeze with all your might, making sure that he feels your encouragement.

Glancing down at you, Homelander feels a small spark setting his heart aflame. Your eyes, shining so brightly, remind him of why he's even in this current position. Why he's been fretting in secret all week. That boost of confidence has returned, as it initially did when he first wanted to even plan all this.

This is his only chance.

"I… I-I… I l-love you…" he finally blurts out, immediately shutting his eyes tight as the weight of his words hits him like a ton of bricks. The regret is instantaneous, his self-consciousness wasting no time at eating away his bravado. He can't believe he actually said it. He's just exposed the only weakness an invincible supe like him has, his desire for your acceptance.

The silence in the penthouse is deafening. And to make matters worse, you haven't said 'I love you' back. You aren't saying anything. Why aren't you saying anything? All he wants right now is to get up and fly away, far far away, but he can't. He can't do anything but sit and let his anxiety overtake his body, freezing him solid.

This was not the problem you were expecting was plaguing Homelander's mind. He got himself this worked up… over you? But then you start to really think about it. How close you've gotten to him over these last few weeks, and how your friendship has blossomed into something much more. He makes you happy by just grinning down at you when you visit him. It brightens up your day talking to him, seeing his canines poke out when he smiles, and hearing his heartfelt laughs as he listens to your every word. You can't help but think about him even when he's gone. The way that, despite your immense height difference, you've never felt more in sync with anyone like you do with him. It's as if he completes you, and makes you whole. He fills a part of you that's always felt empty.

You know you feel the same way he does. You know what you have to do.

Carefully, you maneuver yourself to kneel on top of his lap so your face is directly in front of his, completely catching him off-guard. He wasn't expecting this sudden seizure of control from you, but he raises his large hands to your back to keep you from falling off. At least now he's mentally back down to earth, focusing on your every move.

You are so close that you can see the worry etched into every nook and cranny of his face. His blue eyes are wide and twitching subtly, his eyebrows are pinched together stiffly, and his lips are quivering from what he's hoping will happen next.

"I… I love you too", you state matter-of-factly, unable to hide your smile at how his childlike innocence is peering straight back at you. At how nonchalantly you've shaken him straight to his core with four simple words.

And with your final devious chess move, you lean forward to kiss him.

You expected this to be a short and sweet smooch to affirm the beginning of your relationship. However, the second Homelander feels your lips he cannot help but push for more, so desperate for your affection. He's nearly moaning from the flood of intense emotions churning inside him, the bubble irrevocably bursting from the moment that he's been waiting for all night. You love him too, how can he not react so strongly? His kiss is forceful, almost like he's trying to smother you with his love, just so there's nothing else you'll ever think about but him.

You struggle to articulate even a basic sentence against his mouth, desperately swatting at his chest to get his attention. You lack the strength to hurt him, but luckily he still notices your light thumps against his suit and reluctantly pulls back.

Your face is flushed and breathing haggard, having been left flustered from how you were unable to fight against him proving his devotion. Not only are his lips twice the size of yours, but you also couldn't back away with his immovable hands keeping you in place. Just another little reminder of the disparity between Homelander and the rest of humanity; you truly are utterly powerless compared to the eight foot tall indestructible superhero you're currently seated on.

His jaw becomes rigid as he stares at your expression, until he looks away when he can no longer take in the fear he perceives. Tears are once again welling up in his eyes, his ears are ringing loudly, and his heart is freefalling down into the pit of his stomach. He's fucked up. He's ruined the moment. He's shown you the monster that lurks within himself, the one that can never be satiated.

But despite it all, despite his inner turmoil, despite the voices in his head telling him your relationship is over before it even got started… he feels you place a hand on his cheek.

Your demeanour is the opposite of Homelander's. What you see in front of you is a man fighting to keep the tears from falling, so broken from a deficiency of love. A man who could never stop those he cherished from abandoning him when he gave them his heart on a silver platter. What he sees in front of him is the only person in the world who cares enough to stay.

"It's okay, I'm not going anywhere. That kiss was… was just a bit too much for me," you explain sympathetically, using your fingers to wipe away the tears that dare stain his beautiful face. You can sense the tension ease ever so slightly with each touch to his cheeks as he revels in the feeling of your soft skin. He can't say he's felt someone touch him so sweetly like that in a long time.

"Do you wanna kiss me again?" you ask, repositioning both of your hands to stroke along his jawline. Always chasing after your affections, he leans closer towards you and gives a very hesitant nod, apprehensively swallowing hard from the thought of what he should be anticipating.

"Let's do it more like this," you whisper as you move forward to kiss him. This time you take the lead, purposefully going slow and delicate. He follows your pace instantly, eyes fluttering closed while he sinks into your lips like you hold all the power in the universe.

Homelander's never been kissed like this before, without a proverbial carrot being dangled in his front of his face. Whenever there's a scrap of romance on the line he always must face a thousand trials, go through a series of tests that he must pass without any errors lest it be withheld from him. But not now. Your kiss provides him with the love and care he's fought his whole life for, the tenderness he's always dreamed of experiencing. And you are reciprocating his wants, his needs right back.

Lifting your hands up to his hair you start combing through his undercut, giving him the little scratches that you know make him feel good. A whimper builds from deep in his throat as you run your nails along his scalp, and it doesn't take long for his whines to evolve into flat-out purring.

Eventually, he breaks the kiss to bury his head into the crook of your neck, savouring the way you scratch his hair. His deep voice rumbles through your body as he nuzzles himself further into you, emitting content hums while he melts into your warmth. If there's a heaven, Homelander thinks he's found it.

He wraps his arms around your back, spreading his fingers along your shoulders as he pulls you closer. He embraces you firmly, but not enough that you feel immobile. He's learned his lesson not to make you feel like you can't escape from his grasp, he wants you to be comfortable with him.

"You know, you don't need to do some grand display to show me that you love me," you comment softly. "You do it every day, just by being yourself. And that's enough. You will always be enough."

Your words are like honey to his ears, almost enough to make him start crying again. When he's with you, he feels a level of trust that he can't put into words. You understand him better than anyone else ever could. He's safe with you, as you are with him.

"I-I… love… you," he mumbles quietly, still having a bit of trouble getting that sentence out. It's been such a long time since he's said that, and truly meant it.

"I love you too," you chuckle, kissing the top of his head.

"I… love you," he replies, feeling confidence build up within himself once more. This phrase is starting to not be so hard to say, each time you say it back.

"I love you too," you respond, beaming when you sense a shy grin forming on your shoulder.

The two of you repeat this back and forth for a while, until your words blend together into one, and you fall asleep in each other's arms. This might not have been the way Homelander wanted this evening to go, but somehow… it feels right. In its own special way, it turned out better than he could have ever imagined. Because despite the tears and anxiety, from this moment on, he no longer has to cast his love out to an neverending abyss of hate. Now, he has someone to answer his call.

He has you.

#the boys #the boys tv #homelander #homelander x reader #g/t #size difference #my writing

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whitedarkmoonflower · 1 year ago

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Saved Part 3

Sihtric x reader

Authors note: the outcome of the poll was quite clear 😊 I hear read and obey, my masters!

Summary: reader is Uhtred’s sister and a skilled healer. She travels with her brother’s men and after the unsuccessful attempt on Uhtred’s life gets curious about the young prisoner, the sole Dane from the group of assailants that is left alive.

Warning: 18+, SMUT

Word Count: 4,978

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

An awkward silence hung between you and Sihtric as you sat beneath the old oak tree. You could see that he was searching for words to continue the conversation, but as he hesitated your mind began to drift again.

Nearly a year had passed since the day Sihtric had joined your brother’s man. You couldn't help but smile remembering Sihtric’s early days in the camp. He appeared utterly lost at times, unsure of what to do with his newfound freedom. He eagerly took on any tasks available, striving to be useful while remaining unnoticed as much as possible. During the evenings, he would simply vanish, never seen drinking, gambling, or engaging in any quarrels with the other men. However, what puzzled you the most was his attitude towards you. It wasn't as if he was intentionally avoiding you, but it was evident that he made a conscious effort to stay out of your way as much as possible.

“Sihtric,” you called out as you spotted him tending to the horses a week after. He turned his head with a startled and surprised look on his face.

“Yes, Lady!” he responded, facing you with a bowed head and his gaze fixed on the ground before his feet. His hands hung awkwardly at his sides, his entire body displaying visible tension.

“Can I do something for you, Lady?”

“No, not really. Just wanted to ask you, whether you are fine. I haven’t seen you a while,” you approached him and stood directly in front of him.

“You haven’t been avoiding me, have you?”

“No, Lady, certainly not. I was just … I…,” he struggled to find the right words, his face blushing with trepidation. His nervousness was endearing and captivating, bringing a smile to your face.

“Let me see your brow,” you ordered and Sihtric hesitantly raised his head, allowing you to inspect his wound. He closed his eyes as you examined it.

“It has healed, but the scar will be quite noticeable,” you remarked, gently touching his brow with your thumb. “You should have come to me earlier to have the stitches removed.”

“I did not want to bother you, Lady,” Sihtric murmured, completely frozen, his body tense like a tightly wound bow, his muscles clenched. You stepped back and observed him exhale and relax slightly.

“Come to my tent later when you finish with the horses. I will remove the stiches,” you instructed, smiling encouragingly before turning to walk away. With a quick glance you noticed that Sihtric remained motionless for a moment, his muscles still tense and eyes closed. Eventually, he regained his composure, shook himself, and turned to attend to the horses.

You couldn't help but feel curious about whether Sihtric would show up afterward. It was unexpected to discover that your mere presence could be so intimidating, but it was clear that the young Dane felt uneasy when you were close. Hours had passed, and you had completely forgotten about Sihtric as you were called to tend to a broken leg, a task that required applying splints and securing bandages. By the time you returned to your tent, twilight had descended, and you noticed a silhouette standing before the entrance. The figure raised its hand as if about to open the tent flaps, only to retract it and linger there, seemingly gathering strength and courage to enter. The hand rose again, almost touching the flaps, but at the last moment, it was lowered, accompanied by a sigh, and the figure turned to walk away. You instantly recognised Sihtric and called out his name, causing him to freeze and turn in the direction of the sound.

“Yes, Lady!” came his familiar response.

“You know I don’t bite and if you were to inquire, I'm sure you would hear that I don't eat young warriors for breakfast,” you couldn’t resist teasing him slightly.

“Come inside,” you ordered with firm voice and Sihtric obediently followed you.

“Sit down on that bench over there, near the candles,” you continued as he looked at you in confusion, unsure of where to move and what to do.

You fetched your instruments and a jar of salve. Approaching Sihtric you sensed the tension building up in his body once again. However, this time you chose to ignore it. You had a valid reason to get as close to him as possible, so you positioned yourself between his legs and began your work. Carefully, you cut the stitches and pulled them out with a pair of tweezers. Then, you applied the salve to his brow and massaged it thoroughly with your fingers. You hummed softly, as you always did when working. Being a healer was not just a skill for you; it was your true calling. When you were immersed in your work, everything else faded away, and this tent became your sanctuary, and you were the priestess.

Sihtric’s anxiety and tension gradually relaxed, and this time he kept his eyes open, observing you with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. You were so close that you could feel his breath on your skin, and you could hear the quickening of his heartbeat. And again you found yourself drawn to this young man, fascinated by him, though you weren't yet willing to admit it to yourself. There was something about him that radiated a captivating combination of submissiveness and insecurity, intertwined with boldness, strength, and sincerity.

“I don’t understand, Lady,” Sihtric's words broke the silence, surprising you. You looked at him, puzzled.

“I still can’t understand why you are doing this. I am a nobody, a bastard, the son of a man who destroyed your family, and I was sent to kill your brother. In truth, I don’t even deserve to be here. I don’t deserve lord Uhtred’s trust and I certainly don’t deserve your attention,” his words, spoken with humility and self-deprecation caught you off guard, “I… I was avoiding you because I didn’t know how to thank you. I doubt I will ever be able to repay you… You are so…,” he hesitated searching for the right words, “different. I have never met anyone like you.”

“Sihtric!” you gently interrupted him, placing your palms around his neck and cupping his cheekbone with your thumb.

“Stop it. You can’t hold things against yourself that were beyond your control, things your father did,” you gazed at his handsome, sharply defined face, admiring his strong jaw, captivating eyes, and straight nose.

Your eyes lingered on his lips, and you were so tempted to lean in and kiss them that you had to release your grip on him. You weren't ready to confess your feelings to yourself, let alone to Sihtric. However, your cheeks flushed, and you noticed your heart racing and pounding with such intensity that you thought he must have sensed it. But it seemed that Sihtric was completely oblivious to your state. At the same moment you let go of him, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in your clothes. He breathed in your scent, holding onto you, and it became apparent to you that he was sobbing. His shoulders trembled, and his whole body shook. You placed your hand on his head, allowing your fingers to trail through his hair, gently caressing him.

"Sihtric, I am certain that you deserve everything that has happened in these few days, and much more," you whispered, taken aback by his reaction. "Sihtric, can you hear me? You deserve all the good things that can and will happen to you. Never doubt that!” you were soothing him.

In that very moment he abruptly released his hold on you, jumping off the bench and pushing you aside rather roughly. An expression of absolute embarrassment covered his face as he stormed out of your tent.

From that day forward, Sihtric avoided you profoundly, and you accepted that. You understood that he was embarrassed by the vulnerability you had witnessed and didn't want to remind him of it. He needed time to adjust and to accept his new life. And you were willing to give him that time, especially because you needed it too. You still hadn’t sorted out your own feeling for him.

Months passed, battles were fought, and the life went on. You had plenty of work and you loved it, as it helped you to keep Sihtric out of your mind. Uhtred along with you and his warriors had returned to his estate in Cochem when news arrived that the Princess Ettelflaed of Wessex were kidnapped. Uhtred sent Sihtric to Beamfleot to spy on Erik and Sigfried and gather information. Upon his return, Uhtred selected a small group of his most trusted men, including Sihtric, and set off to rescue the princess. It was absolutely mad plan, but it worked, and the princess was safely delivered back to her father. Sihtric proved himself to be not only a reliable and skilled spy but also a skilled warrior. You observed him gradually gaining confidence and finding his place among Uhtred's most trusted companions. And you were pleased when he finally ceased avoiding you, and your somewhat awkward relationship turned into casual conversations and encounters, much like you had with the other men in Uhtred's company. You convinced yourself that your feelings for Sihtric were merely genuine sympathy, and you were content knowing that Uhtred had found such a loyal and worthy friend in him. He had become a part of your family, and you loved him as a brother.

However, if you had allowed yourself to think about Sihtric’s behaviour more carefully, you would have noticed that he not only stopped avoiding you, but actively sought your presence, seizing every opportunity to be near you.

He was always eager to help you get off your horse, and whenever the opportunity arose, his hands lingered on your waist for a moment longer than necessary. And each time you failed to notice that a tinge of sadness flickered in his eyes. He followed you with his eyes when he believed you were not looking. Had you paid closer attention, you would have seen the gentle yearning in his eyes. You were oblivious how his eyes lightened up with anticipation whenever he saw you entering the great hall to join the evening feasts. Perhaps you really did not notice these subtleties. Or maybe you had intentionally chosen not to see these signs, fearing that they would disrupt what you had convinced yourself of – that your feelings for him were nothing more than sisterly love and joy for his transformation.

Meanwhile Sihtric slowly, but surely began to lose hope of recapturing your attention. He had been so weak and so vulnerable, losing his composure and succumbing to tears in your presence like a small child.

It was unworthy behaviour for a warrior, and he was uncertain if he would ever be able to approach you without feeling embarrassed. He couldn’t even dare to dream that you could feel anything beyond pity for him. And pity was the last thing he desired from you. He longed to impress you, to earn your admiration and respect, but above all, he craved for your love.

But dream he did and his dreams were filled with you. Most frequently he dreamed of your first encounter – the brief glimpse he managed to cast on you, holding Uhtreds hands, as he was being dragged away by Clapa. Your beauty had struck him and his only thought at that moment had been, how fortunate Uhtred was to have such a stunning and caring wife. That dream always reminded him how later that night you suddenly stood before him, inquiring if he was hurt and he believed the gods were cruelly playing with him, driving him to madness.

You had taken his breath away. Your strong and self-assured presence, your genuine care for him, your hands tenderly touching his face as you cleaned up the blood, the fragrance he inhaled when you knelt beside him to tend to his wound – it stirred emotions within him that he never knew they existed. Everything that happened that night and the following day seemed utterly surreal and impossible to him - your mad proposal, his oath, and his newfound freedom.

He had often dreamt of escaping Dunholm, leaving behind his indifferent father, who seemed to notice him only when there was a cause to punish him. He had yearned to be free from a life where misery and beatings had become the norm, and where the only solace he found was in his sword training. Even the gruff warrior who instructed the youngsters and was eager to beat them for every mistake, could not deny Sihtric’s talent with the blade. The lessons became his salvation. He trained with relentless determination, pushing himself to complete exhaustion, and dreamed of becoming a true warrior. And then, in the most unlikely and unbelievable manner, his dreams became a reality.

At first, he attempted to remain invisible, as he had learned to do in Dunholm, keeping himself out of sight as much as possible. However, an entire week had passed, and no one had treated him with deliberate cruelty. He was not driven away from the fires when seeking warmth, food and ale were provided for him, and he was even given furs to keep himself covered at night.

Then, at the end of that first week, he encountered you again. He had not actively avoided you, nor had he sought you out. He was unsure of how to act in your presence, uncertain of what to say or how to properly express his gratitude. He was afraid that most probably he will not be able to say anything at all. Overwhelming surge of emotions overcame him in your tent, having you so close to him that he could hear your heartbeat, feeling once again the tender touch of your hands on his face, and breathing in your scent that had driven him to madness already the previous time. In that moment, something broke deep inside of him, and tears welled up in his eyes, impossible to hold back. He buried his face in your clothes and wept, something he hadn't allowed himself since his mother's death fifteen years ago when he was a mere four-year-old boy.

As you whispered comforting words and gently stroked his head, he tried to regain his composure. His weakness embarrassed him, and he wished for the earth to open and swallow him whole, to avoid meeting your gaze. It was then, when driven by that shame, he abruptly stormed out of the tent, convinced that he would never be able to look into your eyes again without feeling an overwhelming sense of shame.

He volunteered for each, and every task Uhtred proposed, hoping to prove to you just how skilled, brave, and strong he was, determined to show that he was not a weakling unable to control his own emotions. And indeed, he was good in everything he was doing. He had become one of Uhtred's most trusted men, a friend and companion. However, the one person he cared about the most, the person he wanted to impress above all, seemed to no longer notice him, and Sihtric felt a growing sense of desperation.

He tried to forget about you, spending his silver on women in the cities they visited, searching for someone who could overshadow you. But each time he returned to Cocchem and saw you again, he was captivated anew. His gaze would scan your features, and he would dream of holding you in his arms. Every time you spoke to him, he bit his tongue to keep his feelings from spilling out.

And then Ragnar arrived. He had assembled enough warriors to finally settle his blood feud with Kjartan and had come to ask if Uhtred would join him and today, they were marching together to Dunholm. Sihtric was present when the decision was made. He had shared all he knew about Dunholm with Uhtred, and one thing he was certain of was that Dunholm was an impregnable fortress. Even with the well-thought-out plan, many men would die in this endeavor. Sihtric did not fear death; it was a constant presence in his life as a warrior. But what truly frightened him was the possibility of dying before he could confess his feelings to you. And this time you were not coming with them. Uhtred had forbidden it, claiming it was too dangerous. Knowing that Sihtric had wrestled with himself the previous night, unable to find sleep, and now here he was, sitting beside you under the oak tree, unable to find the right words.

“I...we...you know, we are marching to Dunholm," Sihtric finally managed to continue the conversation, drawing you away from your thoughts. "I...uhh...ehh, I just wanted to thank you before we leave. I don't think I ever managed to properly thank you for everything you've done for me."

"Sihtric, you don't have to. I'm happy to have you by my brother's side. You've already saved his life more than once, and that means the world to me," you turned to face him, your eyes scanning his handsome features, his strong jaw, his captivating eyes, the scars on his face and arms—some new ones catching your attention. You couldn't deny that he was incredibly attractive. Your gaze unintentionally wandered to his broad chest and back to his muscular arms, and in a surprising moment, you found yourself imagining his strong arms enveloping your shoulders, pulling you close to his chest. Your breathing quickened, and willing to escape the awkwardness of the moment, you stood up, intending to leave. However, Sihtric immediately reached out and grabbed your hand.

"Don't! Please, don't leave," there was a mix of desperation and fear in his voice, causing you to halt in astonishment. Sihtric rose to his feet, still holding your hand, and locked his gaze with yours.

"I can't leave without saying this to you," he muttered. "I just don't know how. I don't know how to find the right words."

"To say what?" you asked, your heart pounding.

"That I love you!" The words finally escaped Sihtric's lips, barely audible. Sihtric kept his gaze interlocked with yours, waiting for your reaction, while you stared back at him in utter surprise. And in that moment, a realization struck you—something you couldn't deny any longer. Your well-crafted arguments that you loved him as a brother crumbled instantaneously, as you admitted to yourself the truth that had always been there: you loved him too. You had loved him from the very first sight of him, from his first hesitant words spoken that evening.

"You are so beautiful, so strong and confident, so bold and kind. I...I have never met anyone like you before," Sihtric whispered, still holding onto you. He gently placed his other hand on your neck, his thumb softly caressing your cheek. "And I know I don't deserve you...all I wanted was to earn your respect, to show you that I am worthy of your attention," Sihtric continued, his eyes locked with yours. Doubt and despair began to creep into his gaze as he searched for any sign, a hint from you that his feelings were not in vain, that there might be a chance you liked him at least.

However, you were too taken aback by the turn of the conversation to form any words, and Sihtric interpreted it as rejection. His eyes darkened, and he let go of you.

"You don't have to say anything. I'm sorry. It was foolish of me to think that you could want someone like me," he stepped back, and you could see the pain and heartbreak written plainly on his face.

"Sihtric," you exclaimed, finally breaking free from your astonishment. "Wait, don't you dare to leave me again!" And this time, it was you who grabbed his hand in a panicked attempt to stop him from storming away.

"I love you, you incredibly foolish man!" there was a mixture of excitement, tenderness, and frustration in your voice as you stepped closer to him.

"You love me?" Sihtric questioned in disbelief and astonishment, yet his strong arms were already pulling you closer until he held you in his embrace, pressing you tightly against his chest, his forehead resting against yours.

"I love you! And you never had to prove or show me anything! Love doesn't work that way, Sihtric!" you whispered, “Don’t you remember what I said to you – you deserve all the good things that will happen to you and even more. You deserve being loved and cared for,” and as these words escaped your lips Sihtric leaned in to kiss them. It was a gentle and tender kiss, his lips timidly brushing against yours, as if seeking permission to be there. And feeling a shiver run down your spine from the tight grip of his arms around your waist, you responded to his kiss eager for more.

Your lips parted and his tongue slid inside meeting yours. The kiss deepened and soon you both found yourself gasping for breath, unwilling to let go of each other. Sihtric’s hands traced your contours. So many times, being with other women, he had been imagining it was you he were holding in his arms and now that even this dream had come true, he could hardly believe it.

He craved for you and without a moment hesitation his hands trembling in desperate eagerness started to untie your dress and a gasp escaped his lips with his breath taken away in awe when the dress slid down over your shoulders to your waist, revealing your naked upper body to his sight. You leaned yourself against the tree and Sihtric took a step back marveling you with his hungry eyes, he unbuckled his coat and spread it on the ground, just to grab your hands again and pull you back in his tight embrace.

His body pressed against yours and the touch of his rough fingers on your skin made you exhale loudly aching for more. Your fingers traced alongside Sihtric’s strong arms, reached his chest and you started undoing his armour, pulling it eagerly over his head as soon as it was loose enough. Your hands were instantly back on his waist and started undoing his breeches. Even through the clothes you could feel how aroused and hard he already was, and you moaned in satisfaction feeling that he was consumed by the desire of you as much as you craved for him.

All you wanted in that moment was to feel him inside you. You had been waiting for him so long, you did not want any foreplay. You needed to feel him filling you and claiming you as his. You let the dress drop to your feet and stepped out of it. Sihtric’s tongue was sliding up your throat, his breath heavy in arousal and anticipation. He stiffened for a moment in hesitation and raised his head for his eyes to meet yours in a silent plea for a permission.

“Please, take me! I need you; I need to feel you inside me or I will just go mad,” you begged him. Groaning in pleasure at your words he grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you up. You responded to his movement by wrapping your legs around his waist. Sihtric pushed your back against the tree and thrusted deep inside you with a hoarse moan of pleasure escaping his lips. He froze for a moment, taking delight in sensing your walls tightly around his cock.

“Gods, you are so perfect,” he murmured in your ear, “so beautiful and mine. Finally, mine!”

“More, Sihtric, I need more of you! Don’t hold back,” you whimpered, and he obeyed instantly, by pulling his cock out and slamming back into you, over and over again, his movements getting faster with each thrust, his breath heavier and his moans louder.

“So good, my love!” he hissed, “You are made for me! So perfect, so tight around me,” he praised you and when you didn’t answer immersed in the oblivion of you own pleasure, feeling your climax quickly building up, you heard him breathing in your ear: “My love … Please, say it to me,” he whimpered. “I need to hear it. I want to hear that you are enjoying me, that I am pleasuring you.”

“Oh … Gods, Sihtric!” you could only whine, digging your nails in his back and trying to adjust your movements to his ever-faster pace, “You are driving me mad! You are so good, don’t stop, please just don’t stop!” you begged him and with these words you reached your peak with a loud moan.

Feeling your walls clenching against his cock, Sihtric buried his face in your neck and pressed himself further into you. Your eyes widened in surprise. His cock filled you, reaching unimaginably deep inside you, hitting the back walls and all the pleasure spots of your vagina, and even before the waves of your first peak managed to subside you were aroused again.

“Can you handle a little bit more of me, my love?” Sihtric mumbled in your ear.

“Yes, yes… aah, Sihtric,” you called his name arching your back.

Sihtric hesitantly pulled out, earning a surprised moan from you, and gently lay you down on his cloak, lowering his body on yours and settling himself between your legs. You felt him pushing inside you again and moaned in pleasure.

“You are my love, my saviour, my healer and my goddess and I will be worshipping you as long as I live,” Sihtric whispered locking his gaze with you.

“Aah, Sihtric,” you gasped digging your nails into his hips as he started thrusting into you deep and hard, “Gods, how good you feel inside me!”

“Mhm,” Sihtric grunted in pleasure, “Look into my eyes, my love!” he demanded, “I want you to look in my eyes when you come. You have the most beautiful eyes, I have ever seen!” His groans were filling the air, making you forget everything around you. Feeling his body brushing against your clit and his cock ravaging you from inside you raised your eyes to meet his and let out a loud scream as another climax washed over you, with your whole-body trembling in excitement and in the same instant you felt Sihtric reaching his high and spilling within you with a passionate and loud growl.

You both were breathing heavily, Sihtric’s forehead was resting upon yours and his hand was gently cupping your cheek. He kissed you tenderly and wrapped his arms around you as his lips kept placing hot kisses down your jaw and neck with unending love and gentleness in his movements.

“I love you,” you whispered to him.

“I love you too, my goddess. I always loved you, from the very first sight of you. I was completely lost, and you gave me a reason to live, and I promise, I will come back to you,” Sihtric placed a tender kiss on your forehead. Deep inside him he had been afraid of returning to Dunholm, afraid that his old life would consume him and shatter his dreams. But now he was certain that nothing would prevent him from coming back home to you.

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

"You can set up my tent now," a familiar firm voice echoed through the camp, and two figures sitting by the fireplace immediately stood up as if startled by a venomous snake. Uhtred and Sihtric exchanged bewildered and disbelieving glances.

"No, no, no...it can't be true," Uhtred growled, turning towards the direction of the voice. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, peering into the darkness.

"Did you really think you could leave me behind? I thought you knew me better," you chuckled, emerging from the shadows, and approaching the fireplace.

"Uhtred, I am a grown up woman, free to travel wherever I wish. If it makes you feel better, let's pretend I'm visiting that old healer from Lindisfarena near Dunholm," you said, looking at Sihtric, who was taken completely aback by your sudden appearance, his face involuntarily lighting up with a broad smile. It had been foolish of him to believe that you would obediently stay back home, as Uhtred had insisted. Sihtric knew he had fallen in love with an extraordinary woman – kind, fearless, strong-willed, and confident – and he never wanted you to change. As you drew closer, he embraced you, lifted you in the air, and spun you around as if you were a feather. Setting you down on your feet, Sihtric leaned in and passionately kissed your lips.

"Sihtric," anger, surprise, and bewilderment laced Uhtred's voice, "what are you doing with my sister?"

"I love her, Lord!" Sihtric answered without hesitation.

#sihtric #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric fic #tlk fic #smut #sihtric smut

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leifygreeens · 1 year ago

Note

I know you said you might do this anyway, but what were the bachelorette's first impressions of the farmer? how did they all fall in love with them?

I had so many thoughts about this, and even though I cut out quite a bit—yes, it was worse than this—they’re still big. I actually had to rework the format because tumblr literally would not let me post the fucking text wall that was Maru's part, and then I couldn't have her part be formatted differently because that drove me insane. Jesus. Writing for Emily is still a little unfamiliar to me, and I think it reflects in my writing a little bit, but I hope I did her justice.

Bachelors are here.

Bulleted format. Scattered dialogue, self-doubt, and a little bit of thirst(Leah's fault, not mine), but mostly fluff. Mentions of injuries, blood, and the farmer being a reckless dumbass. Not proofread, please excuse any mistakes, my English isn’t great. Some of them include a bouquet, others do not. I stuck to canon for most of them, but I gotta be honest, sometimes my imagination is just so much more fun. Enjoy <3

Maru

Maru is extremely excited to meet you

Those farmlands have been sitting there for years, wasting away and falling apart with no one to care for them, and as a little girl she absolutely loved your grandpa

She was always interested in agriculture, and watching him work was never anything but interesting to her

She was heartbroken when he passed away, but because the farm belonged to your family after that, and there was a strict ‘no trespassing’ rule, she never got to visit

She could stand outside the gate, looking over the slowly deteriorating land, but never ever did she hop the fence

So the idea of the farmlands opening back up was a dream come true for her—the fact that someone was finally going to start caring for the land again filled her with so much joy

When she does finally meet you, that joy is confounded with curiosity

She can admit readily that she’s attracted to you, but she doesn’t get many opportunities to speak to you after the initial introductions, so it doesn’t go much deeper than that

You’re always so busy, and she doesn’t want to bother you, lest she distract you from your chores or responsibilities

But sometimes, you’ll come into town for your errands, and watching you flitting around with so much on your plate makes her hopeful for the future of the valley

She knows that your grandfather must be resting easy now, with the farm in your capable hands

Honestly, at first she thought you might fix up the farm enough to sell the land and make a dollar off of it, and then bounce

She’s relieved to know that you’re not doing that

And the more buildings you commission from Robin, the more excited she gets

There’s one time when she goes on a walk to take a break from a frustrating problem with one of her machines, and she ends up at the northern entrance of your farm

It’s greater than it ever was under your grandfather

The fields are full, there’s animal pens bursting with life, and you’re standing a little ways off, feeding your horse

You notice her, sensing her stare, and she’s terribly embarrassed at showing up without any invitation or warning—even if it was unintentional

But you grin, happy for the company, and usher her onto your property

She flicks open the gate, and the moment her feet touch the ground beyond the fence, she’s teleported back to her time as a toddler, when she would chase the chickens and watch your grandfather work

You’ve heard how close she was with him, and how much she looked up to him, so when she starts tearing up looking around the property, you lead her to your grandfather’s shrine

She kneels in front of the stone, holding her breath still in her chest to keep from sobbing

She’d never been able to visit the headstone before that moment, and seeing his name carved into the dark stone broke her heart

You give her permission to visit the farm whenever she likes, even when you’re not home, if ever she wants to visit him or take a break from everything

The farm is peaceful and beautiful, and she takes you up on the offer with a wet smile

She visits frequently after that, more often when she knows you’re home, but sometimes when you're not

One day in particular comes to mind: you’d run off to the desert for the day, for one reason or another

She was watching the animals disappear into their pens as the sun crept below the mountains when there was an otherworldly whirring sound by your home

When she spotted you behind your farmhouse, she almost fell apart

You were bruised, and there were shallow cuts in your skin where your clothes were torn—but there were also pieces of your clothing and hair that were dark like you’d been singed by flames

You caught sight of her, and smiled at her in relief

She helps you into the farmhouse with a hand around your hip, fully supporting you as you trudged up the front steps, and she's trying not to freak out

You collapse on the couch, too exhausted and sore to walk up the stairs to your bedroom

She does her best with what limited first aid supplies you have, but eventually you're all bandaged up and you look much better

But she’s terrified, though she knows that the likelihood of you dying on your couch is slim to none

While she’s bandaging a cut on your cheek, you realize that her hands are shaking terribly

Carefully, you reach up to hold her wrist, and she stops short

The air between you is charged with something new as you lock eyes

That's when it hits her.

But she’s afraid that if it isn’t reciprocated, you’ll stop letting her visit your grandfather and the farm, so she keeps that firmly to herself when you ask if she’s alright

She reassures you that she’s fine, just a little shaken, and that she’ll feel better if you let her finish

She stays over that night, keeping an eye on you from the other couch as you sleep—just for her peace of mind

You wake up and you’re better, but she still takes you to the clinic in the morning

Her dad gives her a lot of shit for spending the night at your place, but she doesn't let him get very far

It’s a little tense between them afterward, but she’s not having any of it—she might have his brains, but she got her mother’s spirit

You feel like shit for putting her through all of that though, and so you stay away from the caverns unless it’s strictly necessary

When it is necessary, you take a lot of food and warp totems with you, just in case—and staircases. Loooots of staircases

She’s grateful for that, but doesn’t know how much until a long while later

Her parents mentioned you after they got home from date night at Stardrop, and her whole world came crashing down

They told her that you looked terrible, and that you mentioned spending the day in the desert

she was out the door a moment later

Maru sprinted to town square, praying you were still at the saloon, and when she busted through the door, you were perched at the bar with a pint in your hand

You lifted up your head, and she really wished her parents could be more specific

You do look terrible, but not because you’re in bad shape—you’ve just got a nasty sunburn and the most horrendous bags under your eyes

Everyone is staring at her, because she never goes to the saloon, but she doesn’t care.

She’s so relieved that you’re okay.

You recognize the look on her face, pay for your tab without bothering to finish your drink, and pull her right back out the door

You walk her home, gently explaining that no, you did not go into the caverns today, you only went to the desert to pick up things from Sandy’s shop and for forage, and got sunburnt

"You don't owe me an explanation... It's none of my business anyway," Maru mumbles, but you shut her down with a hard look.

She can’t meet your eyes for fear of you seeing right through her

Her worry, her fear, her paranoia and the wild look in her eyes when she spotted you at the bar was all too honest

“You want it to be your business though, don’t you?”

She bites her lip hard, trying not to cry now that she knows she’s been found out

She nods, and then your hand is circling her wrist, and you’re pulling her into your chest

“I want it to be your business too.”

And if you feel her tears drip onto your clothed shoulder, you don’t mention it

Penny

Penny stopped in her tracks the first time she saw you

It was a few days after you’d arrived in Pelican Town, maybe the third or the fourth of Spring

She was dropping Jas off at home when she saw you chopping down trees in Cindersap with a worse-for-wear knapsack slung diagonally over your shoulders, stuffed full with wood and fiber

You were sweating, and panting, and part of her was concerned for your wellbeing, because in that moment she was sure you’d collapse right in the grass beside your ax

But then you wiped the sweat off of your forehead and felled a giant pine tree, in no time at all

She was going to stare some more, but then Jas yanked on Penny’s arm and asked her to walk her inside

Penny only barely managed to tear her gaze away from you to take Jas inside and drop her off

She’s not totally proud of it, and Marnie still teases her for it a little bit, but she rushed through dropping Jas off and was a little short with both of them in her eagerness to get back outside—but not to talk to you. Oh, no.

She was much too shy to do that

But she wanted to see you one more time before you left

Unfortunately by the time she escaped Marnie’s questioning stare, and all but tumbled out of the front door in her rush, you were already packed up and gone

You didn’t go to the egg festival (you were broke, and probably forgot about it in favor of clearing your farmlands)

The next time she got to take a look at you—a proper look, this time—was at the flower dance

You were walking around the meadow, introducing yourself to some, and familiarly greeting others

And when you introduced yourself to her, she nearly forgot her own name as you shook her hand

It had been four weeks since you moved to town, and your hands were calloused from the farm work you’d been busting your ass at since you arrived

But that was the only rough part about you

Everything else was soft and kind, and the way you said her name made butterflies erupt in her stomach

And the smile you gave her afterward was so pretty

She couldn’t forget the way your eyes crinkled at the edges as you bid her good luck during the dance and went on your way

And from then on, it felt like she was seeing you everywhere

Hearing about you from the other townsfolk, catching sight of you walking through town at least twice a day, and even getting a few opportunities to talk with you herself

And then her tiff with George happened, and she swears no one had ever been so quick to defend her—she was a little starstruck when you smiled softly at her after he was gone, and reassured her that what she did was kind and good-intended

You were always smiling at her like that, heartbreakingly gentle

When she apologized for the way her mom shouted at you after trying to help clean their trailer, when you ate her poor attempt at stir-fry without complaint, and especially when you showed up during her field trip with the kids in Cindersap

Clearly just out of the fields, dirt on your knees and mud on your boots, with the most breathtaking glitter in your eyes

Your skin was flushed from exertion, and she’s never seen anyone look attractive while sweating, yet there you stood, backlit by the early afternoon sun

And watching you interact with the kids was the cherry on top

She’s always wanted a big family, but no one in Pelican Town ever seemed like a good match for her—not in the long run, anyway

But she thinks you’re kind, and safe, and you have a natural energy that makes you easy to get along with

She’s well aware that she likes you, but she’s used to things not going her way, or being taken from her, so she resigns herself to an eternity of pining after you

She tries not to fantasize too much, because it’s a little embarrassing, and it hurts a little, but sometimes she can’t help but imagine what you might look like with a child bouncing on your hip

What you’d like for breakfast—how you’d like your eggs in the morning

She thinks about what domestic life with you would be like constantly

Shortly after Robin builds Penny and Pam their house, you show up on her doorstep

You asked Robin to keep it a secret, of course, so Penny doesn’t know it was you and still doesn’t

But she invites you in, too excited to show you everything to notice the stunning array of flowers clutched tightly behind your back

She insists on showing you around, and letting you check everything out

You both step into the kitchen, and she’s gesturing grandly at the dining space, practically squealing over the hand-embroidered tablecloth Granny Evelyn gave them as a housewarming gift

She spins around. “So? What do you think?”

And that’s when you finally reveal the bouquet behind your back

“I think these might look good on the table.”

She thinks you’re being kind, or that maybe you don’t know what those bouquets are for, because there’s just no way, right?

“Oh!—I’m sure we have a vase for these somewhere, just let me—”

You stop her with a careful hand on her wrist, barely gripping just in case you’ve read it all wrong and she wants to get away from you

“Penny. Do you… know what I’m asking you?”

And she does, but she’s in disbelief. There’s no way you’d want her too, right?

And now that she thinks about it, she could’ve sworn you were interested in Haley or Abigail, because, you know, obviously they’re both really pretty, but Haley’s family has money, and Abigail’s so much cooler than her—

“If I wanted them, would I be here, giving a bouquet to you?”

After you leave—because as romantic as you are, you’re still a busy person running a farm all by yourself—she puts the flowers on the table with the dopiest grin on her face

She flops into her bed and squeals into her pillow, the fluttering in her chest so strong she swears she could float away

She has trouble falling asleep that night, too busy thinking of your smile as she stares at the ceiling fan

Abigail

She’s determined to dislike you from the get-go no wonder her and Seb are friends

When she finally sees you, during an early spring trip to Pierre’s, she takes the sudden drop in her stomach as a sign that you’re bad news

Then you beat her at the egg hunt, and she’s in a sour mood for days

she will straight up refuse to leave her room if she knows you’re in the shop

Wednesday is her favorite day of the week, because she won’t have to see you

But of course you have the audacity to show up one day when she’s only just managed to get out of helping her mom with dinner

She’s getting her ass kicked in JotPK when you knock on her bedroom door

She doesn’t know why the hell you’re bothering her, and she’s suddenly embarrassed that you caught her right as she died, but then she gets an idea

She asks you to play in the hopes that you’re terrible at it so at least she’ll finally have proof that you’re not good at everything or perfect all the time

She half-hopes you say no, but then you’re sitting down and reaching for a controller, so she’s stuck with you

You make it past the first level without dying, while she gets killed within the first thirty seconds, because of fucking course

She’s halfway through thinking up a snarky barb when her mom calls for her

You set the controller down and smile at her, and then you’re reaching into your pocket

“I came over to give this to you. I found it in the mines, and it reminded me of you.”

You hand her the most opaque, gorgeous raw amethyst she’s ever seen

She has half a mind to ask why on earth you’d think about her, but then her mother is calling her again, more urgently the second time around, and you’re walking out within seconds

She stares at the amethyst for what feels like forever that night, thinking

She doesn’t get the opportunity to properly speak to you again until a week later

It’s raining, and she’s playing her flute, just basking in the whimsy feeling of the valley

She opens her eyes after a particularly long note to find you standing a few feet off, your fishing rod in hand

The rain is soaking you to the bone, with some of your hair stuck to the delicate skin of your throat, and she short-circuits

Her gut reaction is to get defensive and ask you what you’re doing, but you handle it with grace

You ask her what she was doing, and when she says she wanted to spend time alone, the recognition on your face is palpable

You nod, adjusting the strap of your backpack on your shoulder, but she stops you, saying some bullshit about how she doesn’t mind your company

Hasn’t she minded your company since you first showed up? Why is she lying??

But the surprise and hesitance clear on your face makes her feel… not nice

So she scoots over, gesturing vaguely to the space beside her

“You’re getting soaked. Come stand under the tree.”

What progress you made with her is quickly dashed when you pull out the mini harp—because why wouldn’t you also play an instrument?

She’s always been competitive, but she doesn’t understand why she’s so desperate to have something over you

Hearing about your trips in the mines from the other townies doesn’t help

Knowing you have the freedom to go wherever you like without any overbearing, old-school parents breathing down your neck, and the fact that you’re apparently in good standing with the two adventurers up at the guild, who speak to basically no one else?

One night her self-worth is particularly bad, and she runs off to the graveyard for some peace and quiet

Her dad is getting on her ass about “acting like a lady” more than usual and it’s been driving her up the wall

It rubs her the wrong way how no one bats an eye at the things you get up to, but everyone’s always getting on her case about acting “proper”

And of course you show up that night, too

Right in the middle of her break between drills, while she’s heaving and guzzling water

You appear out of seemingly nowhere, and the shriek she lets out is so fucking embarrassing

You don’t laugh at her for that, but she does see the mirth in your eyes when she says she was practicing her swordsmanship

As if the thought of her swinging a sword around is so funny to you

She snaps something about that, but then her entire world flips on its axis when you chuckle good-naturedly and make a joke about how pissy it must make Pierre, what with his old, dated-ass values

And then you ask if she’d ever like to practice with you—“I could use a sparring partner anyway”

And obviously Pierre catches you chatting in front of the headstones and nearly pops a blood vessel, and she’s irritated that you had to see them like that, but she’s caught totally off guard when you back her up and laugh at Pierre’s expense

“I know he’s your dad and all, so no disrespect to him, but fucking hell, the stick up his ass is massive”

That lightens her mood a bit, knowing that she has at least one more person who acknowledges that her parents are overbearing sometimes

Unfortunately for your patience, it takes a long time and a few sparring sessions before everything clicks into place for her

In the thick, humid heat of summer, she finally gets you down, her wooden sword pressed just below your jugular

The golden afternoon sunlight bounces off the sweat on your face, and it makes you glow beneath her

You give her a breathless smile, with an eager and impressed shimmer in your eyes, and suddenly, she understands

Every moment since you stepped off of the bus, she’s been pining after you

Desperate to have something over you, not because she wants to be better than you, per se, but because she wants to impress you

She cuts the session short, not glancing behind her even once as she all but sprints away from the farmlands

Once she’s home, she rushes into her room and locks herself inside, her face beet-red and sweaty from the run, and from you

The amethyst you gave her so long ago sits on her night stand, mocking her with its deep purple glow

And oh, she is so fucked.

Haley

She doesn’t share in the enthusiasm everyone has about you, and she honestly doesn’t really care that you’ve moved in

She has no interest in making friends with you—you’re always covered in dirt and sweat and she thinks it’s really strange gross

After you take Emily’s side over the couch cushions, she’s pretty bratty for a bit, and is convinced you have a crush on Emily in order to side with her

But if you give it a few weeks, she accepts that maybe that’s not true, given that your interactions with Emily don’t seem more than platonic

But there’s this one time, where you’re over to drop off some cloth or something, and she’s struggling with a jar in the kitchen

You open it for her without question, and when your hands brush against each other when you hand the jar back, Haley’s skin tingles

But then Emily is there and you’re leaving, so she doesn’t bother examining it further, content to move on with her life

That plan comes crashing down rather quickly though

A few weeks later while taking pictures at the beach, she notices her wrist is uncharacteristically barren

Immediate panic swells in her chest, and she spends thirty minutes pacing over the tiny dunes looking for her great-grandmother’s bracelet, not even caring when sand spills into her shoes and starts rubbing against her skin uncomfortably

She’s close to tears, paranoid and jerking her head this way and that at the slightest glimmer in the sand

Those thirty minutes pass, and she’s not found anything, and her tears start flowing freely

“Haley?”

She spins around, and sees you

She knows how eager you are to help everyone in town—you’re helping to fix up the old community center, all of the museum’s donation placards have your name on them, and every board request outside of Pierre’s rarely goes unanswered

Besides, you’ve helped George and Shane before, and surely she’s not as grouchy as they are, so maybe you’d be willing to help her, too?

She calls you over, and you immediately rush over at her tone

The concern on your face is enough to make a wave of fresh tears push forward, but she blinks them back desperately

Your hands are on her shoulders, squeezing softly as she tries not to cry

She resigns herself to never seeing her grandmother’s bracelet again, when your hands are leaving her skin

She feels cold immediately, even with the sun beating down on her neck

But then you start walking around, hunting for her lost jewelry with a focus unlike anything she’s ever seen, and the thought of you helping her when she’s been basically nothing but unkind makes her feel awful

Her tears get a new kick to them, clogging up her chest and making her sick to her stomach, when you’re calling out from across the beach

You rush over from Elliott’s shack, and she sees her bracelet glittering between your fingers as you hold it out

“Is this it?”

She doesn’t bother with a verbal response, grabbing the bracelet tightly in her own hand and flinging her arms around your shoulders to hug you close

She doesn’t think she’s imagining the blush on your face as you help her put the bracelet back on, and the way you hold her wrist before pulling away makes her burn

After that moment, she’s always noticing things about you

The little things you do that show how much you care for other people, how kind and compassionate you are—the way you have everyone wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it

She knows that’s not true, though—she knows that you can tell the effect you have on people, but she’s struck dumb by the fact that you never use that against them

You’re never manipulative, never inconsiderate, never anything but good and kind and she’s so fucking insecure because she’s always been bratty and selfish and shallow and there’s no way someone like you would ever like her back—Oh.

She wants you, but doesn’t think she deserves to, given how she treats people

She’s never really been one to wallow, though, so she springs to action immediately

She goes through her closet and donates half of her wardrobe, she starts doing her part to keep the house tidy, she smiles and waves at anyone she passes in town—she’s even started hanging out with Emily, and she’s having fun

After a few weeks, she realizes that now she’s motivated more by her relationships flourishing, instead of trying to impress you

But she can tell it’s making a difference with you, too, and that’s a nice plus

Especially when you’re both standing in Marnie’s pens, taking pictures with the cows, and you’re so gentle with her after she gets bucked off

You insist on walking her home, carrying her camera equipment for her and watching her closely for any discomfort or limping

She’s never felt so cared for, and she can’t think of anything else while she’s washing the mud off of herself

But you don’t ask her out until a little while later, probably sometime in Winter 2

You go into her house, and Emily sees the bouquet first, immediately knowing what it’s for and all but shoving you in the direction of the kitchen

Haley’s standing at the counter, making herself some peppermint coffee in her sleep clothes yes i’m bitter it’s not an in game item shut up, and maybe it’s not as romantic as you wanted it to be, but she just looks so cute and cozy that you ask anyway

She says yes, of course, and she can’t stop smiling long enough to drink her coffee, even after you’re gone and the flowers are sitting proudly on her vanity

Leah

Leah’s world isn’t really affected all that much when you show up in Pelican Town

She’s excited to see what you do with the farmlands, and she wouldn’t be opposed to having another friend besides Elliott, but she’s not going to bust her ass to make friends with you

She’s got bills to pay on an artist’s salary, and her days are filled with foraging and working on her art, so she busy

But the first time she meets you is when she’s walking to the spring onion patch for some late morning foraging

When she arrives, she’s disappointed to find that you’re already there, yanking the last of the spring onions out of the ground

Most of her money goes into paying her bills, so her diet mainly consists of food she’s foraged in Cindersap or around the valley

She depends a little too heavily on the onions during spring, so if there’s someone else in the valley who forages for food besides Linus, she’s got to rework her schedule to make sure she gets enough to eat

She’s in the middle of asking what you did before moving to Pelican Town when you pull a face and start digging through your bag

And then you’re dropping five of the largest ones into her basket

She’s surprised by it, and her gut reaction is to tell you ‘oh, you didn’t have to do that, I could’ve found something else’—but you’re not having any of it

You’re waving goodbye and traipsing off towards the tower, the sun beating down and making you gleam like gold

She shakes it off and walks home, caught off guard by how readily kind you are to someone you only just met

And your kindness doesn’t stop there

Sometimes she doesn’t have time between her art projects to go look for anything in Cindersap, so you take it upon yourself to get things for her too

And the only reason you overhear her heated phone conversation with Kel is because you’re dropping off forage for her

She starts doing the same for you, when your farm really takes off

She’s blown away by how much progress you’ve made, and she’s honestly a little jealous, but she can’t find it in herself to be bitter because you’re so wonderful all the time

Someone like you deserves a nice life like that, you know?

She’s inspired by you and your kindness, so much that she carves a sculpture for you

She doesn’t realize she has feelings for you when you display her sculpture on your porch, even though the feeling in her chest is overwhelming and fluttery

The moment she pieces everything together, it’s your fault

She’s trying to reach a fruit high up in the cherry blossom tree, already breathless from her continued efforts, when you appear out of thin air and scare the living daylights out of her

She looks up at the fruit longingly, and maybe if she jumps off of the trunk she can reach a little higher—

You lift her up like she weighs nothing, smiling kindly as she looks down at you in surprise

She’s sitting on your shoulder, your hands supporting her under her boots, and she plucks the fruit from the branch with a few twists

You let her down, snorting dryly when she comments on your strength, and she quickly uses her whittling knife to carve off a piece of the fruit for you

She holds it out for you to take, but you glance down at your hands with a frown

You got dirt on them from her shoes when you lifted her up, and you’re not totally jazzed at the idea of eating mud and dirt with your fruit

She thinks maybe you’ll stick your hands in the pond to rinse them off, but nope.

She blushes furiously when you lean forward and take the fruit into your mouth, straight out of her hand

Your lips brush her fingertips, and she gasps at the contact

You swallow and smile, and then you’re shrugging your backpack on and walking away like you totally didn’t just flip her world upside down and turn it inside out

It’s all she can think about from then on, no matter what you’re talking about or how brief your interactions are

She tries her best not to let it show, but it’s hard when you’re all she can think about, and all she wants to do is kiss those god awful lips of yours

She invites you to her art show in town, and you show up all dressed up for the occasion, with a glitter in your eyes she’s never seen before

Encouraging her once again, and for fucks’ sake would you please stop looking at her like that???? She’s about to give a speech to the whole town, she’s already nervous!

The show goes well—her sculptures were all sold, and Mayor Lewis even commissioned her for a Pelican Statue to put in the town square

Life’s going better than it has in a long time; her bills will be paid, and her confidence is through the roof

You’re walking her home after the show when you daringly thread your hands together

She looks at you in surprise, transfixed by the steady blush creeping down your neck and up to the tips of your ears

She squeezes your hand, a blush of her own spreading over her face that doesn’t go away even after you drop her off

She flops into bed with a dopey grin on her face, giggling uncontrollably and kicking her feet and holy fuck, she’s in her late twenties, why is she so giddy over holding hands???

It’s embarrassing, but no one is here with her anyway, so who cares?

You like her too.

Emily

She’s practically foaming at the mouth to meet you LMFAO

She had a dream about a new farmer moving into Pelican Town a month before you even quit at Joja

So when the townspeople found out you claimed your grandfather’s farm, Emily was truthfully, impatient as hell

She tried to keep her mind busy so it didn’t occupy her every day, but it got harder to do the closer it got to your arrival date

And she swore there was something different in the air when you stepped off the bus

The egg festival was the first time she spoke to you, and she’s sure it must be destiny that you spoke to her first out of everyone in the square

Right off the bat she knew there was something different about you

The way you carried yourself, and how you looked at the world around you

There was wonder there, like you had only just started living

She got the opportunity to know why when you visited the saloon one night

It was slow, and she was busying herself by wiping out a few wine glasses when you walked in, fresh out of the mines

You looked worse for wear, but when she asked if you were alright, your mood was overwhelmingly positive

Exploring the mines was easier than working at Joja at least—or so you claimed

Given how often she hears about people feeling stuck and stagnant, she’s glad at least one person in Pelican Town is taking charge of their life and trying to be happy

But the longer you’re in the valley, the better everyone’s lives seem to be going

Pam has her job back again, the minecarts are working, and then the community center is up and running—all thanks to you

She finally understands why she was having dreams before you ever showed up when the Joja Mart closes down and gets remodeled into a gorgeous movie theater a few weeks later

Everywhere you go good fortune seems to follow—the trees sway toward you, the water calms in your presence, and the wind blows a little gentler, and now the community is finally rid of that terrible corporation’s presence

When she finally realizes that she likes you, there’s no catalyst—no special moment or anything

You’re not even there when it clicks

She’s in her room, sewing a new dress for Haley for Feast of the Winter Star Christmas, and her train of thought wanders to you

She thinks of the dreams, of your influence over the townspeople, over the flora and fauna, and she knows that it was destiny for you to move to Pelican Town and fix everything

But then she sets that aside, and thinks about you

Just you

The way you look after a day out in your fields, the sound of your laugh, the dedication you show in everything you do, and the compassion and thoughtfulness of your actions

Even when you’re not fixing up the town, or dropping off gifts to some townie or another, you’re a bright spot in the middle of the gloom—the eye of the storm

You’re safe, and she gets teared up thinking about you

She likes you so much

She’s immediately abandoning the dress in favor of busting out her tarot cards, because now she has to know for sure

Is it a waste of time? Is it for her to decide? Is it destiny?

She doesn’t know, and she needs to find out before it drives her insane, and then The Lovers and Two of Cups fall out of her deck

She’s confident that the universe is pointing her in your direction, and she’s not going to ignore those signs any longer

She’s on her way to Pierre’s, coin purse in hand and jingling with the gold she needs to seal her future with you, when you run smack into each other outside of her house

You both stumble, but while you right yourself without issue, she falls backward

You catch her just in time and drag her back to her feet, apologizing profusely for knocking her down, and seeing you in front of her with your arms carefully looped around her waist, well

She confesses on the spot

It’s awkward, she’s stuttering the whole time, and you’re wide eyed in surprise as she stumbles over her words

Eventually she trails off, her cheeks as red as her dress, when you smile softly, and hold up a bouquet

She didn’t even notice it in your hands, but seeing it now, how could she have possibly missed it?????

A little bummed that you bought the bouquet first, but then again, this is the universe we’re talking about, she can’t complain about its methods

Certainly not when you’re carefully kissing her cheek and placing the flowers in her hands

#maru #leah #emily #haley #abigail #penny #sdv bachelorettes #sdv #stardew valley #blurbs #asks #requests #anon #headcanons #stardew valley headcanons #long post #lmfao catch me in a puddle on the floor because this took so long to get out

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 7 months ago

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Okay so a thing that has bothered me ever since I first watched Chat Blanc was Bunnyx and the general time travel stuff because tghis makes no sense. In the Chat Blanc time line, after Chat Blanc destroyes the universe, everyone is dead. Including adult!Alix aka Bunnyx. So the Bunnyx fron the Chat Blanc timeline doesn'rt exist anymore, meaning that the Bunnyx fron the episode is from a parallel timeline where Chat Blanc didn't destroy the universe. That however raises the question why she would even care about that other timeline. Is her quest to assure victory over Monarch in every single timeline because that sounds exhausting as hell. I also don't understand the deal with her leg disappearing while she witnesses the fight between LB and CB, it has no reason to, because LB defeating CB doesn't have any effect on Bunnyx because, as stated earlier, the Bunnyx from that timeline is already dead! And honestly, the fact that Lb even had to fight CB makes no sense. They could've just went back in time 2 minutes so LB can erase her name from the letter (or just be quicker so Adrien doesn't see her) and CB doesn't happen in the first place!

Like, genuine question, what was the point of the whole thing? I mean other than the concept is cool and the writers wanted to give LB trauma (which never really plays a significant part in the overall story anyway??)

Sorry for rambling so much, I don't know if this makes any sense, the episode was really confusing to me and idk if it's just because the episode actually doesn't make sense or because I just don't understand it bc time travel is really confusing. Would really love to hear your opinion!

You're fine and you're not missing a thing. The episode simply doesn't make sense nor am I sure why it even exists. I know a lot of people love it, but I really don't get the hype. It runs off of nonsense logic and makes most of the characters look really bad.

Let's start with the lore.

The canon lore is that Bunnyx only travels through time, not universes, so it makes no freaking sense that an adult Bunnyx would be able to stop Chat Blanc since the existence of Chat Blanc should stop her from existing. It's a total paradox that goes against everything we'd been told about her powers. Of course, she's also supposed to be the hero of last resort, yet we hear about her hanging out with famous historical figures and the season five final sees her acting as a substitute for the horse miraculous even though the people she portals in don't do a thing to help with the final battle, so it's not like Chat Blanc is the only time her powers and role get ignored. Any time I use the rabbit, I have to completely rework its lore because canon is just so bad at time travel. I like Alix and her adult design is awesome, but any time Bunnyx shows up, I expect to be annoyed.

Also, I will never forgive her for just dumping Ladybug back in our time without so much as a word of encouragement or any reassurance that the Chat Blanc stuff was only a maybe. And Ladybug was the one to figure out how to fix time!!! Alix, you suck at your job! Or this is just another case of the writers refusing to let someone other than Marinette save the day even though the poor girl really needs a day off.

As for why this episode exists? I don't even know, dude. It makes no sense. Back when we thought it was going to be a driving force in the season four conflict - an assumption that was backed up by Marinette's nightmare in sentibubbler - the episode kinda made sense in spite of its flaws. But we're two seasons past Chat Blanc and the only person who is apparently traumatized by it is Adrien.

Yes, the writers actually said this. No, you didn't miss an episode where Adrien learned about Chat Blanc. They were talking about the nightmares from the final:

Mélanie says that he "could become Chat Blanc" and the others add that even though he does not remember and has never lived it, Chat Blanc still has an influence on his actions.

Yes, this is embarrassingly bad writing. The character who never saw or even heard of Chat Blanc is somehow the one who is traumatized and effected by it while Marinette's trauma has nothing do to with Chat Blanc or the events of the season four final. Instead, it's random BS that was never even hinted at until season five. I just... what?

In case it wasn't obvious - which I guess it isn't given that professional writers missed this - the logical way to write this to have the season four conflict be about Chat Blanc from Ladybug's side. After the conflict ends, she reveals everything to Chat Noir who becomes terrified of hurting people with his powers. This is only exacerbated by the events of Destruction. But then the show would have had to let Chat Noir have a character arc that didn't revolve around Ladynette and the series seems allergic to that as a concept, so instead Adrien gets magical trauma that keeps him from the final fight. And I thought the Derision retcon was bad!

Other issues with Chat Blanc in no particular order:

It cements Nathalie as just as bad a Gabriel since she's the one who tells him Adrien's secret identity and we then see her do nothing to try to protect Adrien.

It makes Gabriel irredeemable by showing him gleefully hurting his child. Dude punts his son across the city with a smile on his face!

It makes Adrien look slimy since he asks Marinette out without telling her that he knows her secret identity. This one is in a bit of a grey area for me because the secret identity stuff is complicated, but Adrien has never been the one who cared about secret identities AND he's the one who has been directly turned down in hero form. The episode takes none of that into consideration with its writing and it really needed to for Adrien to feel like he had a valid point of view here. As is, he's taking advantage of a situation and putting his Lady love at risk for his own wants.

The pillow sniff scene makes Marinette look unhinged.

It spits in the face of The Power of Love by having Adrien's love fail to be enough to stop him from killing Marinette.

Marinette's parents should have gotten involved after Gabriel threatened her. There is no way in hell that I'd let my kid go over to the Agreste mansion after that. If the writers were once again determined to not let Tom and Sabine parent, then the threat should have come when Marinette was alone.

Why did Ladybug even need to go to the future if Bunnyx could have just gone back in time and stopped Ladybug from leaving the present for Adrien? Why did Chat Blanc even need to be defeated? What did Ladybug's ladybug actually fix when she cast her charm?

This is minor, but it bothers me: Chat Noir should not have been smiling and happy when he was freed from his akuma. That boy should have been in the middle of a breakdown.

I know people forgive some of the above because Chat Blanc is sort of an AU and I'm not going to say that's wrong, I just can't look at it that way because there's nothing that sets Chat Blanc apart from the normal timeline. The Paris special gives us an AU. Chat Blanc (and Ephemeral) are what the writers told us would happen in the canon timeline if Gabriel ever discovered his son's secrets. Canon Gabriel was the one doing those things and would have done them again if given the chance. This is who the writers said he is. Same goes for all the other characters who come across less than stellar here.

There's a reason why I love a good Chat Blanc rewrite. It's an idea with a lot of potential, but canon capitalizes on almost none of it.

#chat blanc my beloathed #ml writing salt #ml writing critical #chat blanc salt

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catierambles · 3 months ago

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Alternate Instincts Ch.29

sorry for the delays between chapters. I usually have a good buffer of ones written vs what I have posted, but y'all are current with what I have done.

Geralt eased the door closed, sighing and running his fingers through his hair still damp from a shower he shared with her. Stephanie had been tired and went right to bed afterwards, not even bothering to get changed into pajamas and sliding between the sheets naked, the towel left on the floor by the bed.

"She okay?" Sy asked and he turned, seeing August and Mike there too. "They showed up while you were with Steph."

"She will be." Geralt said, "She has demons in her head that she deals with. Recent events haven't helped matters."

"I fuckin' bet." Sy said.

"But we're--she's not breaking things off, right?" Mike asked and Geralt shook his head, making him give a sigh in relief. "Okay, good."

"She asked me to infect her." Geralt said and the statement hung in the air for a moment before Sy moved to get up from his seat. "Sit down. I didn't."

"Why not?" August asked as Sy sank back down again.

"Not the right time." He said, shrugging one shoulder. "She's emotionally stripped right now and I want her to be of stable mind when we talk about it."

"Definitely ain't somethin' you go into half-cocked." Sy said.

"And I want to be sure it's because it's what she wants and not because she thinks it's what we want." Geralt said.

"She knows we'll love her either way." Walter said.

"I don't think she does." Geralt said, "At least, not right now."

"What kicked this whole thing off, anyway?" Sy asked. "Walt?"

"We were spending time together and her mood flipped like a switch." He said, "It was like someone dumped ice water on us. I have a feeling it's because..." He sighed, "We overheard a couple women from the pack talking about her. Their words were not kind. They basically implied that we were only with her for sex. That that's the only reason we keep her around. To get our jollies."

"Are you fuckin' serious?" Sy asked, an unnatural growl to his voice. "Who said that?"

"I only vaguely recognized them, and I didn't ask their names." Walter admitted, "It may have affected her more than she let on."

"I don't blame her." Geralt said and they looked at him. "What's the main thing we do with her? More than anything else."

"Fuck." Sy said in exasperation and Geralt shrugged.

"Yes."

"I wasn't--"

"I know." Geralt said, "She's our Mate, so we want to be with her and be with her often, but it might be making her start to feel like something we use to get off and that's it."

"That's not--" Mike started, "I love her."

"So do I." Geralt said, "But she's been hurt and used by people who claimed to love her, and hurt badly."

"Lewis." August growled out.

"Not just him." Geralt said, "Her mother..." He gave a sigh, "Stephanie told me she wasn't...ideal. Blamed Stephanie for a lot that happened, for her father leaving, saying it was her fault and that things would have been better if she hadn't been born. She was supposed to fix their marriage, but, as her mother told her, she just destroyed it."

"Goddamnit." Sy sighed, rubbing at an eye.

"It's why she took up rugby and martial arts. If she could make herself physically strong then maybe--"

"Maybe she'd be strong mentally, too." Walter finished and Geralt nodded. August got up without a word, pushing past Geralt and heading into the bedroom. He watched her sleep for a long moment before pulling off his clothes, getting into bed and taking her in his arms, their skin pressed together.

"I'm not in the mood, August." She said as he pressed his lips to her shoulder.

"Relax, Princess, I just want to hold you." He said and she sighed, relaxing against him. "After all the things I've done, you are the one good thing in my life. You feel like you don't deserve us, I know. Well, Princess, I wish I deserved you. I know I can count on you to keep me in check, call me out when I'm being a horses’ ass. We may butt heads, but at the end of the day, yours is the strength that keeps me going." She turned in his arms, looking up at him and he saw the tears shining in her eyes. "I love you, Stephanie." She reached up, holding the side of his jaw and he sighed, his eyes closing. His arms tightened around her when he felt her lips press against his own. Although he thought about it, he didn’t take it any further than that, holding her to his chest with a hand at the back of her head, feeling her arm come around his waist, her hand at his low back with her thumb moving over his skin. "Human or wolf. I love you."

He heard the door open but didn't bother to see who it was and the bed dipped behind her as Sy got in just as nude as they were.

"Hey, baby." He whispered, wrapping an arm around her waist, and she hummed in response, Augusts' hand moving to her shoulder. "We definitely need to get a bigger bed."

"Was already thinking about it." Stephanie said.

"California King?" August suggested and she snorted.

"Would not fit in this room. A regular King would be pushing it." She said, "I'll take measurements and see what we can do."

"How about--the fuck is it called? Alaska King?" Sy asked.

"An Alaska King is bigger than a California and would fit all five of us easily." She said, "We'd have to knock the wall down between the bedroom and the living room, turn it into one big area. Then maybe it would fit, but only along the long wall and we'd have no living room."

"You feelin' better?" Sy asked.

"Not one hundred percent." She admitted and he cuddled into her further, his arm tightening briefly. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"Don't be." August said.

"It's just-- August is right. I don't believe I deserve any of you."

"Baby, we don't deserve you." Sy said, "You take care of us. I know things seemed fine when you came into the house, but shit was gettin' tense. Four Alphas under one roof don't happen for a reason, at least not for very long. Then you came into our lives and straightened us out. You gave us somethin’ to focus on. Protectin’ you, bein’ the best Mate we possibly could."

“Stephanie, the night I realized you were my Mate, I was angry.” August said, “But not at you, or that it was you. I was pissed that it took that long for me to find you. I had accepted the fact that I didn’t have a Mate, but then you came into my life. This pain-in-my-ass human who flipped me off and called me an asshole. Who stared down a wolf and told it to fuck off.” Sy snorted softly behind her. “I didn’t deserve you. I didn’t deserve to have a Mate, but here you are.”

"Well, you were being an asshole, and you shifted to try to scare and intimidate me so absolutely fuck off." She said and Sy shook behind her in silent laughter, his arm tightening around her waist. August just rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"What I'm saying is, I love you." He said, "And I'm so lucky to have found a Mate that can and will give as good as she gets."

"I love you too." Stephanie said, "Even when you're being a donkey." Sy couldn't stop himself and laughed full out, pressing his lips to the back of her neck.

"Woman, you test me." August said and she moved up slightly, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. She went to pull back, but he leaned into her, taking her lips in a kiss of his own as his fingers wove into her hair. A groan shook his chest when she opened her mouth for him and he felt her shudder as Sy's hand flattened against her stomach.

"Baby?" He whispered in her ear and her reaching back for him was the answer he was looking for, sliding his hand between her legs and starting to stroke gently. She broke the kiss, panting against August's lips as Sy explored her with his fingertips. "She's gettin' so wet, Walker."

"That's my good girl." August whispered against her lips. "That's my perfect Mate. Love you so fucking much." Wrapping his fingers around her thigh, he draped her leg over his hip, reaching between them and taking himself in his hand. With Sy's fingers keeping her spread, August eased into her, her breath catching in her throat and exhaling in a whimper as he stretched her open. He couldn't go deep at this angle, but with his hand cupping her ass, he started to move, rocking into her in shallow strokes. "Sy. Move." His hand left her as he moved backwards so August could roll her onto her back, her eyes closing as he pushed into her fully. Going to his knees, his hand wrapped around her throat. Not tight enough to constrict her airway, but just so she knew it was there. He continued moving at a smooth, languid pace, pulling from her almost completely before joining them again fully. "So beautiful." He whispered as he looked at her beneath him.

She reached for him and his hand left her throat as she pulled him into a kiss, his forehead pressed to hers as they broke away.

"Oh, fuck." She whispered, her legs wrapping around his waist.

"You gonna come, babe?" Sy asked, pressing his lips to her shoulder and she nodded. She searched for him, wrapping her hand around him and starting to stroke in time with August's hips between her legs. "Ah fuck you don't gotta--" Her thumb circling the head made the words die in his throat and his hips started moving into her hand. "So fuckin' perfect." Augusts' grunts into her neck as he moved made her eyes roll back and she clung to him with her free hand, her nails digging into his back as his movements became heavier, driving sounds from her lips with every forward thrust of his hips.

"Yes yes yes..." She chanted and the coil that had been tightening in her lower stomach broke, her orgasm washing over her and forcing a cry from her lips. "Fuck!"

"That's my good girl." August breathed, still moving against her but the feel of her clenching around him was making him lose rhythm. He came suddenly with a snarl, his lips pulling back from sharp teeth, and he took her mouth in a hard kiss as he emptied himself into her. Sy immediately pulled her against him as August rolled to the side, taking her mouth as he lay on his back and she straddled his hips.

She was slick with August's release but he didn't care, especially as she sat up on him, guiding him to her and easing down. Her nails dug into his chest as she rolled her hips against him even as he rocked up into her. Stephanie felt Augusts’ lips at her jaw, his fingers gentle as he turned her face towards him, kissing her deeply.

“There is no greater joy for a wolf than to take care of their Mate.” He said, “To meet all their needs. We don’t use you to get off, Princess, we take care of you because that’s what we do. We love taking care of you, love being with you. We satisfy you, and satisfying you satisfies us. Understand?” She nodded and he pulled her into another kiss, guiding her back so was leaning against his shoulder as he slid his hand between her legs, circling her clit with rough fingertips while Sy continued to rock up into her.

“Fuck.” She breathed, her eyes rolling back. Her back arched, and their names left her lips in turn as she came, rolling her hips against him. A shouted expletive left Sy and she felt him twitch inside her, warmth spreading through her lower belly. They stayed like that for a long moment, August pressing slow, gentle kisses to her face and neck as she and Sy fought to catch their breath. “I need another shower.” That made them chuckle, August getting off the bed, and she let out a squeak as he scooped her up in his arms, carrying her into the bathroom, Sy not far behind.

#henry cavill #captain syverson #walter marshall #august walker #hellraiser mike #geralt of rivia #alternate instincts

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kylorengarbagedump · 4 months ago

Text

Playing Soldier: Chapter 3

Read on AO3. Part 2 here. Part 4 here.

Summary: You really wish Tavington would stop saying things that make you want to pass out since you're literally already about to pass out from thirst.

Words: 7000

Warnings: Extremely questionable medical practices

Characters: William Tavington x Reader

A/N: Co-written with @bastillia. <3

Okay so now this thing has umm at least SEVEN chapters? We're so sorry but we're not. (I am partially sorry that I'm motivated to write again but it's for a fandom that's approximately 2 people big (including me and @bastillia) but if you're here, thank you so much. We're just honestly enjoying writing this story so much and telling the tale of two bitchy cunts. It's the best! We love you <3

Your only attempt to escape that day occurred when you awoke, still tightened around the Butcher’s belly. Like an animal waking into a trap, you jerked back, your fists flying into his chest, and he grunted, hooking your bonds with one finger and tugging them back down.

Wincing, you hissed an admission of your error and settled into the seat again. The sun, just starting to crest over the horizon into the pinkening sky, blinded you. With a groan, you turned your face away. A lance receded from your skull as you pressed your brow and eyes against Tavington’s back, making him your stalwart shield against the dawn’s assault.

If you’d awoken sore yesterday, today you woke as an abscess, oozing ache and misery. A second heartbeat had grown in your temples and your tongue scraped your palate, dry as a cat’s.

You could do this. You would do this.

“Good morning, Colonel,” you mumbled against him. When he didn't respond, you forced yourself to huff. “What, did you get up on the wrong side of the horse?”

Still nothing. Shrugging him off, you pressed your cheek to his shoulder blades and looked behind you, meeting the eyes of the man you knew as Lieutenant Shaw. The moment he caught your gaze, he glanced away.

You raised a brow, twisting toward him. He was a stout, ruddy-cheeked man, older than Tavington, his blonde hair tied back in a scruffy queue. His lips were chewed raw, knuckles whitening around his reins as you studied him, until his horse began to gnaw the bit. His foot twitched anxiously in its stirrup.

“Good day,” you murmured to him.

Shaw’s attention darted sideways at you, checking that you’d actually addressed him. When he realized you had, he cleared his throat and stared forward.

“Lieutenant Shaw, isn’t it?”

He stiffened on his horse, which now started to toss its head. He glanced at you again. You supplied him with as earnest a smile as possible.

“How was your evening, Lieutenant? Is your ride going well?” When Tavington’s shoulders tensed, you found yourself unable to stop. “And is your Colonel always such a bastard, or is he just bad with women?”

“I, er—ma’am—“

“Shaw,” Tavington said.

Shaw straightened. “Sir.”

“Do not engage the prisoner.”

“Yes, sir.” His gaze fixed straight ahead.

You frowned. Well, that was unfair.

As you sat in silence, Shaw continued to argue with his mount, each of them bracing against the other as he tried in vain to get the animal to settle. You rolled your eyes.

“Relax,” you said. “Soften your elbows.”

Tavington’s head whipped to the side just a fraction. Relenting, you took it for the warning it was, and turned your head away from Shaw to rest the other cheek. Shaw’s horse quieted behind you.

On the colonel’s other side, Lieutenant Edwards rode a few paces behind. A washed out, willowy man, he wavered atop his horse like a reed. At the edge of your periphery, your eyes half closed, you saw him raise a small item to his mouth that glinted in the sun. You turned, meeting his eyes. Edwards flinched, topping it and stashing it beneath a saddlebag.

Before you could even seek his attention, he tucked his heels into his horse and trotted ahead, avoiding you like a nosy relative. That typically wouldn’t bother you, but the worse you felt, the greater the desire to publicly sulk became. Certainly, your captor could attempt to deprive you of every small joy you had available to you—you’d simply try to deprive him of his sanity.

“Am I bothering you, Colonel?” you asked. “Are you growing tired of the sound of my voice?” Tavington said nothing, but his chin tilted toward the sky, which was almost as good as an admission from him.

“You know, if we changed things up, I could probably speak more quietly. You might not even hear me.” When only hoofbeats answered you, you continued, “Why don’t you just let me ride with Shaw?”

“Absolutely not.”

You grinned, a sick delight popping in your chest that you’d gotten a reply out of him. “Why not?” you asked. “You must be tired of having me hang onto you. The lieutenant there seemed perfectly capable of handling a conversation.”

Shaw, for his part, joined Edwards ahead of you, apparently not wanting to be included in said conversation.

“The lieutenant isn’t as experienced in dealing with duplicitous agitators.”

“Ah, yes,” you said. “You demonstrated your experience in dealing with them the first time we met.”

“I believe I did,” he replied. “Though unfortunately, none of the others are alive to attest to it.”

You set your jaw, remembering the split throats and spewed brains of the men you’d shared the tent with. Considering you’d only escaped with burns, perhaps you had managed to stumble into some luck. You wondered what would’ve happened that night if Tavington’s subordinates hadn’t been around to rein him in. You wondered how well those reins were holding now.

“Where are the rest of your men?” you asked, not expecting an answer. “If you’re a colonel, you must have command of at least a hundred.”

“Four,” he said casually. “Hundred.”

“Isn’t carting me along taking away from time you could have with them?” Against your will, there was a hint of genuine curiosity in your voice. “You could be murdering so many more innocent civilians.”

You received no response, apparently having exhausted the last scrap of curiosity he was willing to humor. That didn’t stop you.

“Burning so many more towns?”

Nothing.

“Raping so many more women?”

You felt his ribs compress in a sigh, but he remained silent.

“Quite the trail of bodies you’ve laid,” you continued, affecting awe. “Obviously, it begs the question of when an attempt might be made on my own.”

“I would not deign to make an attempt on your body,” he growled, drawing another triumphant smirk from you, “even were it the last bloody carcass not rotting into the dirt.”

But hearing the words an attempt on your body leave his mouth, even in the negative, sent a thrill through you. You frowned at yourself. Apparently, sleep had failed to restore the portion of you that could respond reasonably to cruelty.

“Dear me, but you are a gentleman. You must have come to be called The Butcher on account of such gallantry.”

Tavington said nothing.

“So how is your time spent, then? Kissing babies? Petting bunnies?”

The horse’s stride trudged steadily on.

“Abandoning your regiment to chase injured women around the countryside?” You furrowed your brow. “I certainly can’t be that important. Neither can my father, for that matter.”

“Your attempts at trickery are losing their polish.”

You grumbled. ��I’m not—there’s no trickery.”

You really just didn’t want to think about how many bodies he’d made attempts on or how often these attempts were made nowadays or what it might be like if he made an attempt on your body and—

A slight exhale, almost like a laugh. “Ask yourself if you would have approached a camp of four hundred, girl.”

Well. He had a point there. You supposed that if his intention had been to wrangle you into submission and gather all the glory for your capture himself, then he’d gone about it exactly the right way. It was strange, though, his willingness to construct such a small operation based on the little correspondence he’d received. For whatever reason, being the victor in any situation, no matter how small, was important enough for him to send his legion on their own for half a week.

You wrote that in your mind’s journal, too.

“Girl,” you said, pressing your forehead into him as a particularly strong pulse of pain knocked your skull. “What happened to my name? I know you know it.”

“Your behavior is more befitting that of a girl.”

You ignored him. “How do you know my name, Colonel? I can’t say I remember introducing myself.”

Tavington paused. “Don’t you?” he said, savoring the words like a secret. “Ah, no. It was your sister who gave you away.” And then, with a sardonic glee, “Grace, wasn’t it?”

The mention of your sister’s name iced your blood. You now felt your pulse over each inch of your flesh, like your skin had come alive with rage.

“Was that it?” he said. “Grace?”

“Don’t you dare speak her name,” you said, low enough only he could hear.

“No?” he replied. “If I apologize, will you offer me grace?”

You growled, bashing your head into his spine, receiving a retribution of hard muscle and bone. It rang agony to your toes, and you collapsed against him, hissing a curse. The stress on your body had won out. You’d have to let him have this round.

The sun continued to crawl up the sky and nibble at the shade offered by Tavington’s body. With your face turned away, you sought respite beneath the carved ridge of his shoulder blade, cradling your eyes there. Even with the small relief of darkness, your skull pounded harder, harder, until it threatened to shatter.

Perhaps around late morning—you’d lost any reliable sense of time passing—the nausea began. It struck in hideous, syncopated beats between the horse’s stride and your own weakening pulse, tipping the world on its axis. At some point, a particularly violent wave pitched you in a riptide. You clutched the front of Tavington’s coat, clamping your jaw closed against the dry-heave that thrashed your insides. It was only then that you realized you were shaking. If he noticed, he made no indication.

“Colonel Tavington.” Shaw’s voice shimmered through your consciousness from somewhere far off.

Tavington straightened, sending a red dagger of sunlight through one of your eyelids. You nestled further into him, breathing against vertigo.

“The, er—the pack horse is tying up, sir. And Edwards’ horse has been stumbling.”

“Speak freely, Shaw.” Tavington’s voice rippled around you like you were underwater.

“With respect, sir.” Shaw sounded altogether too sharp and too distant. The water around you shifted. “I don’t think they’ll make it to Dorchester, let alone Charleston.”

Your mind, adrift in fragments, grasped at the word as it passed. Dorchester. Your father’s voice swam around those syllables somewhere fathoms deep in your memory. But that would mean you’d ridden… miles. Too many miles.

Why couldn’t you recall how many miles?

It was hard to say what happened next. More words rippled, in shapes like camp and Dorchester and dawn. Everything was far away. Except Tavington. He was close—an anchor. Perhaps the water itself, holding you. Letting you drift gently into the deep, into the dark. No. Lifting you. Lifting your arms. Dropping them.

Then he wasn’t there. And you were drenched in vicious sunlight.

“No—” you heard yourself mewl, and your hands came up to shield your eyes. The world swung on a hinge.

A firm hand braced under your sternum, another at the small of your back. They straightened you upright, then guided you sideways. So far sideways that you should have been falling.

But you didn’t fall. You were floating again. Borne by a pair of strong arms, curled against a chest. Cracking your eyes open, you saw Tavington’s face above you, haloed in light.

Then you hit the ground.

You groaned, curling onto your side, hiding your face from the unyielding undulation of the world around you. Beyond it somewhere, the redcoats gave and heeded orders that washed over your consciousness like milk. There was movement, the grabbing and stashing and placing of things. You focused on taking a breath in and letting one out. In, then out again.

Another breath, another, deep into your belly and shuddering out through your nose. It almost, you thought, had a steadying effect—almost, because you were still trembling and still nauseous and still dizzy and your arms were beginning to hurt in ways they hadn't before.

Just as you felt relief from the sun's assault, a splash of cold water smacked your face.

You heaved, shooting up to sit, your tongue chasing the water like a kitten scrambling to catch prey. Even the meager splash was restorative. Drops moistened your mouth, trickles soothing the pulse in your scalp.

Panting, you realized you'd been primally scavenging water off of your own face. Eyes peeling open, you looked up to meet William Tavington’s gaze, his canteen in one hand and a couple lengths of rope in the other.

If you had ever been concerned about decorum, at least a small part of you would've been embarrassed. Thankfully, you'd never made decorum a priority once in your life.

He dropped to a crouch and grabbed your wrists, untying the knots there.

“Not even a greeting?” you mumbled, grateful the water had at least restored enough of your mind to grant you spite.

Your hands now free, he moved to jerk one behind your back and paused. You winced—there was a new, hot ache cutting its way up your forearms and he happened to be holding one with more force than necessary.

Whatever the ache was, Tavington was making it worse. He turned your wrist around in examination, still clutching the rope.

“Edwards,” he said. “Shaw.”

Both men responded affirmatively, turning toward him.

“Was a lancet packed?” he asked. “Or a fleam?”

You frowned. Did he want to cut you? Lifting your head, you glanced between your wrists. The burns looked like sunsets—a hot, yellow center pouring red rays across your skin. A blood malady.

Deep in the starved recesses of your mind, something came grinding to life, and drove you to clamber to your knees.

Tavington eyed you warily, his grip flexing around your arms. You met his stare, your own replete with resolve.

“I don’t need bloodletting,” you said. “I can—” Dizziness swarmed you, greyed your vision. Clenching your fists, you used Tavington’s hold on you to steady yourself. “I can slow this down, just let me—”

“Shaw?” he called, ignoring you.

“No, sir,” came Shaw’s reply. “Will a pocket knife do?”

Tavington’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “It will have to. Bring it here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stop,” you pleaded, panic streaking through you. In this state, you weren’t sure you could withstand any blood loss at all, let alone as much as his cruel hands were bound to purloin from you. “Please, if you just—do you know what a sumac tree looks like?”

The men ignored you. Shaw passed the blade to Tavington.

“Hold her other arm,” Tavington commanded. Shaw moved to your side, his grip replacing the colonel’s.

“Do you?” you implored, your gaze searching between the two men. Shaw refused to meet your eyes. Tavington’s attention remained on your wrist, bringing the knife to it. “This won’t—you can’t—you’re no physician, you have no idea what you’re doing.”

The blade brushed against tender, swollen skin. You tried to flinch away, but he held you fast. Something like an incredulous laugh burst past your lips.

“On your way back to England.” Your voice shook, and you closed your eyes. “Just remember that I could have spared both our fates.”

You sank back onto your heels, turned your face to the sun, and thought of home. Of Grace. Long seconds ticked past as you waited for the knife’s bite, for the slow drain of consciousness that was sure to follow. But neither came.

Opening your eyes, you found Tavington staring daggers into you, the blade barely kissing your flesh. The hope you had just discarded into the very pits of your soul leapt alive. You rocked forward to level your stare with his.

“If you bleed me, Butcher,” you whispered, “I will die.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. If your heart currently possessed any more strength than a fledgling sparrow, it might have taken flight. It was harrowing to recognize that your death was likely something he would cherish orchestrating. It was even more harrowing to recognize that a part of you was nothing less than thrilled by that.

“Colonel, sir.” Shaw’s hesitant address snapped the air like twine. You both looked at him. “If—if I may speak freely, the physicians in Charleston are much better equipped for this, and it’s at most two more days’ ride—”

“That’s too long,” you said, then looked back to Tavington. “I can make something that will help. I just need a sumac tree, or alder, or—”

Tavington snorted. “You want a tree—”

“God’s blood, will you just listen?” You wrenched your arm away from Shaw. Tavington dropped the knife to snare both of your wrists like you were an obstinate child. Sagging, you summoned every ounce of genuine earnestness you could. “Please.”

Tavington rolled his tongue in his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Shaw,” he finally said. “Dismissed.”

“Sir.”

The lieutenant departed like a fire had sprung beneath his balls, rejoining Edwards in the small camp. You swallowed, steeling yourself with what little alloy remained within you. The blue in Tavington’s eyes burned stark-white.

“Let go.” You jerked your hands back, but he refused to budge. “Let me stand.”

He stared into you, chest rising as he allowed his fury to gutter. With an exhale, his grip loosened, and you slipped free with a grunt. Shaking, you pushed yourself to your feet, stabilizing yourself with hands on your thighs, blinking as the sky spun to your feet and the grass fogged out. You sucked in a breath and growled against your body’s desire to pass out.

“Bring the knife,” you said, stumbling forward. When he stood, you heard him draw closer—too close—and you whirled on him, ignoring how the movement split him into five different irritated Tavingtons. “Don’t. Touch me.”

“Do relax.” He grasped your upper arm, turning you back around.

You glared at him and flailed your shoulder, knowing it wouldn't shake him off but needing him to know you didn't like it anyway.

In this moment, all flutters of desire had died like moths fried by torchlight. You were sick of being treated like an idiot dog, sick of your head pounding and your stomach eating you from the inside out, sick of being surrounded by these godforsaken ignorant men. You charged into the woods with one focus: finding something to help purge your blood and getting the British army’s most contemptible colonel to give you more than two inches of breadth between your bodies.

Said colonel was still clutching you as you went, but at least this time you were dragging him. It would have been much more pleasant to reach the shade of the woods without him there to ruin it, but at least the pounding in your skull had receded. You drew an inhale and cast about for something useful.

Immediately, you knelt to pluck wintergreen leaves from a patch at your feet. Tavington dropped your arm as you descended, electing to tower over you rather than join you. That should have been a relief, but then he stepped even closer, his shins nearly bracketing your hips.

Jaw clenched, you decided the only way to ignore him was to occupy your mind. From where you crouched, your eyes flicked over various plants that sparked recognition, from toxic to medicinal, but there were only a few you knew of that could siphon fever from the blood. Most would have to be dried, or infused in oil, or various other preparations that your fogged mind couldn’t conjure but would certainly not be viable in your current situation anyway.

An alder bark salve would be ideal, as the trees were abundant. Perhaps its properties would function in a poultice instead, given your lack of materials and time. You didn’t relish the idea of improvisation with your mind so muddled, but you had little other choice.

“Is the gibbet still your preference?” Tavington said above you, startling you out of your thoughts. “I believe I’ve now a strong case for burning you at the stake.”

You grit your teeth, shoving your harvested leaves into your trouser pockets before you stood. When you did, the world capsized again, forcing you to brace against the nearest trunk and take several deep breaths.

“How predictably barbaric of you,” you said without turning to face him. “Let me be burned for possessing knowledge long before I ever live in fear of it.”

“Yes,” he replied, “though I somehow doubt the knowledge you possess to be of any particular value, given your predilection for failure.”

“I’m sure that’s what your general says to you every time you offer input,” you grumbled, not caring if he heard you, and began a wobbly path toward an alder tree some yards off.

You smoothed your hand down the bark as you reached it, partly to make certain you’d identified it correctly, but mostly for the chance to finally touch something that wasn’t a detestable irritant of a man. Despite your efforts in the latter, he approached behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him. Sighing, you held your hand by your shoulder, palm upwards.

“I need the knife,” you said.

“No.”

You wheeled on him, only for your face to be an inch from his, your breasts brushing his chest, and you stumbled, back against the tree. Sweat beaded on your neck, at your throat, and you stiffened, narrowing your eyes. Tavington’s head tilted up, and he closed the distance again, seemingly unperturbed by your discomfort.

You frowned. “Fine.” You slipped to the side, your chest scraping his coat as you escaped the cage he had created with his body. He simply watched you move. You gestured to the tree, then crossed your arms. “Harvest the inner bark.”

Tavington stared at you.

You scoffed. “Go on, then.”

“Is this what colonials consider a meal?” He waved between your pockets and the alder.

“Why?” you asked. “Would that disgust you?”

You took a wintergreen leaf out of your pocket and popped it into your mouth. Despite yourself, you nearly lost focus as its oil coated your tongue, spreading a cool, bitter relief across it. Tavington looked at you like you’d just bitten the head off of a live rat in front of him.

“It’s medicine.” You rolled your eyes. “Don’t worry, there will be no question that I died of starvation.”

Tavington looked away, seeming rather nauseated, to consider the tree. He flipped the pocket knife into his palm. Then, with stony reluctance, looked at you again, waiting.

You shook your head with a small huff, turning toward the trunk.

“Score the bark vertically,” you said, tracing a line with your finger to indicate your meaning. “Here.”

His jaw flexed, but he followed your instruction, carving a line down the bark exactly as you’d directed. It was then that you realized, with a small lurch in your belly, that he had removed his gloves. The sinews in his hand flexed as he guided the knife along the bark, then pried its edge free.

“Now here,” you pointed down another invisible line a few inches beside the first score. “And then horizontally here and here, to connect both scores.”

Again, you mapped the blade’s path with your finger. And again, he retraced it with utter precision. You swallowed, the movement sticking in the arid pillar of your throat.

“Right,” you said. “Good. Now the outer bark should peel away.”

Tavington regarded you, lip half-curled, as if hell were closer beneath him than this. Then he jammed the blade beneath the bark like it had just stolen his coin purse.

“No, not like—”

Your hand shot out before you could stop it, your fingers wrapping over his fist. The connection crackled and you jerked back like you’d touched lightning. You’d felt his bare skin before, when he’d tied you up yesterday, but the warmth of him, the hard, strong bone of his knuckles—it startled you.

Jaw set, he shoved the knife at you and stepped back, head nodding toward the tree. You shook off whatever had just possessed you and cleared your throat, starting to carve away.

The cork now stripped, the soft, coppery inner bark of the alder glowed underneath your knife. Your hand trembled, your grip barely strong enough to keep the blade steady. But the bark was supple, familiar, and it peeled away like pats of butter into your hand. You slipped the slivers into your pockets, too.

Tavington watched you, silent, his eyes following your fingers as they worked. The attention felt curious, unfamiliar—you supposed he was considering the avenues he’d need to take to justifiably kill you once you were both in Charleston.

You would be so relieved when you got there. Whatever needed to be done to secure Grace’s freedom would be light work compared to spending another minute in the company of William Tavington. To think that a man with as much education as he knew so little, that his military desired to possess that which they did not understand. You almost laughed.

“You know,” you mused. “For as hard as you people fight to keep this land under your heel, you really don’t know much about it.” You grabbed a couple more slices and stuffed them away, holding out the knife and your arm to him. “All right. Drag me back, Colonel.”

Tavington studied you for a moment, the frustration on his face abated. He plucked the knife from your hand and tugged your arm toward him and behind your back, pushing you out of the woods.

When you reached camp, he released you, and you tripped forward into the grass. Shaking, you pushed yourself to your hands and knees and rolled to sit, waiting for the world to cease its imitation of a spinning top. You glanced over at the lieutenants, who both stared between you and Tavington with uncertainty. Shaw hovered above the rock he was sitting on, as if he’d been about to move to help you, but sat down when Tavington leered at him.

You snorted. You might have preferred the presence of Nathaniel Jones to these fools. The Lord rest his soul, of course.

Tavington sat with his men. They’d prepared rations while you’d both been gone, not that it mattered, since they certainly had no intention to share it with you. As he sat, a flicker of exhaustion crossed his face, lines creasing his forehead where you hadn’t seen them before. You wondered if he’d slept at all.

The way his shoulders dropped as he took a bite of his meal—the utterly human display of his relief—almost comforted you with the knowledge that he actually was a man.

Almost, since, again, they were definitely not sharing the food with you and were probably betting on how long you’d last under neglect until you dropped dead or maybe lost your mind and tried to kill them all.

You turned your focus on the components you gathered, pulling them out of your pocket and grabbing a couple rocks to mash them together with.

As weak as you felt, it was soothing to go through the motions of grinding up the leaves and bark. With each pass of one stone over the other, you felt your frustration bleeding out into the pulp between. The oil from the wintergreen helped break apart the slivers of tender bark, though they weren’t combining nearly as well as you’d hoped. You needed to hydrate the mixture more.

“Edwards,” you called, as he was seated closest to you. “May I borrow your canteen, please?”

He turned, regarding you as if you were a cockroach he’d just found crawling on his sleeve. Then he picked up his canteen and moved it to his other side, away from you, turning back toward his fellow soldiers. You saw Tavington’s gaze flick to you, then to Edwards, then back to his meal, inscrutable as ever.

All of the anger you’d just tempered struck hot within you again, the flint of exhaustion colliding with the steel of spite. You stuck out your chin at the back of Edwards’ head.

“Your flask, then.”

Tavington’s head shot up. Edwards went stiff. After a pause, he addressed his colonel.

“I haven’t a clue what she’s talking about, sir.”

“Left front saddlebag,” you said, turning your attention back to crushing your half-combined attempt at a poultice. “Underneath it.”

In the corner of your vision, you watched Tavington slowly rise, then walk over to where Edwards’ horse was grazing.

With his colonel’s back turned, Edwards peered around to narrow his pallid eyes at you. Lifting your head, you matched his glare, daring him to retaliate. For the very first time, you felt a flicker of gratitude for having The Butcher’s protection. No matter how begrudgingly it might be given.

As Tavington returned, Edwards stood, his attention following the silver flash in his colonel’s hand. “Colonel, sir, I do apologize, but I didn’t expect this assignment to be particularly demanding,” he said. “It’s a prisoner transport.”

“Ah,” Tavington replied. “And that prisoner clearly has no intention of attempting to undermine you.” He stepped forward, brandishing the flask like a prize. “Lieutenant, here is a demonstrable lack of experience in dealing with duplicitous agitators.” His gaze fell, briefly, to you, then returned to Edwards. “Perhaps, when we arrive at Charleston, an evaluation of your rank is in order.”

Keeping your concentration on your concoction, you smirked. As you continued to grind, the flask landed near your rocks. You glanced up. Tavington wasn’t looking at you, but Edwards was.

“Sir, please—”

“Disobedience isn’t rewarded, Lieutenant,” Tavington said. “Consider that next time you smuggle your precious whiskey.”

You took that as permission and grabbed the flask. The moment your hands landed on it, every British officer followed your movement. You rolled your shoulders, frowning.

"I’m not going to drink it,” you said. And then, with all of the sweetness you did not possess, “Are there are any bandages available?” Nobody moved. With all of the bitterness you did possess, “Please?”

Tavington let out a slow breath. “Shaw.” He tipped his head toward where the supplies had been piled. The lieutenant scrambled to obey. Edwards sank back down where he’d been seated, a slump to his shoulders.

You glanced up at Tavington, who had evidently decided to stay and supervise you. He was looking down at your work with a curious crease in his brow. Returning your own attention to it, you unscrewed the flask’s top and tipped a dash of whiskey into the concave divot where you’d been grinding the poultice. With a few more passes of your makeshift pestle, the extra liquid finally allowed you to macerate the pulp into a workable consistency. You huffed, drawing the back of your hand across your forehead and sitting back on your heels.

When you looked up again, Shaw and Edwards had both moved farther off. Tavington was still beside you, now holding out a roll of white fabric. After a moment of hesitation, glancing between him and his offering, you took it.

After managing some form of grumbled acknowledgement, you looked back down to your workstation. Tavington continued to watch you in silence.

You began by tearing two lengths of cloth approximately the size of your burns. Then you scooped the poultice into your hands and slathered it across each piece. Grabbing the flask again, you poured a bit more whiskey onto each strip, ensuring they were fully wet. Then you took a shaking breath, flask in hand, and looked down at your burns.

They glistened like mangled fruit. Whatever vile humor they were leaking needed to be removed before you applied the poultices. At least, that’s what you assumed. You hadn’t had many chances in your life to observe a proper physician at work, but one tended to see a fair few injuries when brought up in a farmstead village.

In one case, you’d accidentally spilled your father’s gin across a swollen gash in your finger from a slipped knife. The pain had been akin to flaying your own skin, but the wound had healed superbly afterward. You’d sworn by rinsing your wounds with gin ever since, even if the other women in your village had deemed you a lunatic for it.

A happy coincidence, you supposed, that you had something gin-adjacent at hand now. A less happy coincidence that these were the worst wounds you’d ever had the misfortune to test your hypothesis on.

Drawing one more deep breath, you yanked your shirt collar up between your teeth for the second time. Then you bit down hard, and drenched your wrist in fire.

Your vision went white, every muscle seizing around your bones. A scream broke loose from your chest, catching in a web of linen before a violent dry-heave doubled you over. You braced on the back of your forearm, trying to remember how to breathe.

You couldn’t pass out. Not yet.

Hauling yourself upright, you blinked hard against the snow blanketing your vision, shook your head to quiet the church bell pealing between your ears. Gradually, the world regained its edges.

Tavington’s voice cut through the noise. “We’ll need to prepare a bloody asylum instead of a prison.”

With a grunt, you forced your focus back to the task at hand, ignoring him. Before cowardice could make its nest within you, you splashed the other wrist. Agony split that arm in equal measure.

Another ragged cry tore free, and your mind made another attempt to flee the excruciating confines of your body. Your will proved a strong enough tether, though, and despite your body’s protest, you remained conscious. The flask slipped from your grip, dropping to the ground.

You weren’t finished yet. You had to stay focused.

Grabbing a strip of poultice, you laid it over your raw wrist and pressed it down. Air spasmed through your lungs, pain clung to your skin like acid mist. Though your hand shook violently, you picked up the roll of remaining bandage and attempted to wrap your medicine in place. Then you dropped it.

You grunted, reached for it and dropped it again, coordination having resigned from your hands long ago. Shaking, you curled your fingers underneath it, and it tumbled like a spool of thread to the ground. Breath hissed between your chattering teeth, stifling a whimper.

You reached for it a fourth time, only for Tavington to squat beside you and snatch it away. Your sound of protest had barely been born before he was drawing the cloth around your wrist, looping it with firm, even pressure, tying it in place. You blinked down at his hands as they worked, considering that this was perhaps some strange dream and you’d passed out after all.

“The other one,” he demanded. You could do nothing but oblige.

Before your arm was even half raised, Tavington clutched it, held it steady as he pressed the second poultice to your wrist just as you’d done with the first. You winced, but refused to flinch. He wound the bandage around your burn, so deft you might’ve thought he’d done this hundreds of times before. Perhaps it was all the practice he’d had binding you with rope.

Pain still seethed—it made sense, since you’d essentially just entombed both of your wounds in cloth iron maidens—but with the pressure of the bandages, it had died to an angry, raw pulse.

Tavington dropped you and the cloth, observing as you heaved in air and tried to normalize the rhythm of your breath.

“This,” he said, with some degree of disbelief, “is medicine.”

Swallowing a groan, you nodded, wincing as another wave of pain rolled through up your shoulders. “It is.”

Tavington raised a brow. “Medicine is civilized,” he said. “This is not.”

Whether it was due to the thrill of pain or his ignorance, you weren’t sure—but you laughed.

“Coming from a country that apparently can’t grow anything but bloodthirsty, boorish men, I’m not surprised your idea of medicine begins and ends with a blade.”

Tavington cocked his head. “Indeed, your primitive tree tonic speaks volumes to your sophistication.”

You looked at him, grinning through a shudder that rocked you with your heartbeat. “Am I not the embodiment of elegance?” you said, gesturing to your filthy clothes and trembling, reddened arms. “Perhaps if you’d had my upbringing, you’d have some semblance of a genteel and courteous manner.”

His face was impassive. “That grows from the land, does it?”

You laughed again, sniffling. It would’ve felt good to snipe at him again. After all, he was the reason you were in this position to begin with, the person responsible for tying you up, arresting Grace, and hunting your father altogether. But pain had robbed you of wit. When you went to speak, not a single drop of venom rose to your tongue.

“Why not?” you sighed, laid flat on your back. The grass cushioned and cooled you. “This land grows many things.”

“Including its own share of bloodthirsty boors,” he replied, insistent.

“Perhaps those are ubiquitous, Colonel.” Your eyes slid shut, the world throbbing around you. “Perhaps every village has their own breed of unruly dog.” You smiled to yourself. “Some even get pampered with rank.”

“Only colonials have stooped to the level of dogs.” His voice was laden with a bitterness that intrigued you. “Lower, in fact. At least a dog knows where to place its loyalty.”

“Mm. I don’t know about that.”

“You’d liken all men to dogs.”

“You don’t agree? We both eat. We both bleed. We both shit. We both fuck.” You paused, embarrassed you’d said the word, but shrugged it off. “Similar enough to me.”

Silence settled between you for a moment—the wind rustled by your ears, banished the sweat on your forehead. You hoped you could lie there for the next year.

Beside you somewhere, Tavington shifted. Even without looking, you could sense him studying you. “You must speak from experience, then.”

If you hadn’t been so tired, you might have balked at the question. Was he trying to imply something about your sexual behavior again? Your brow pinched together.

”Taking an interest in my personal life, are you?”

He scoffed. “I am likening you to a dog.”

Your forehead relaxed in relief—a much less complex statement. You hummed in agreement. Yes, you were a dog, at least as long as you remained in his company.

The wind rushed past your face again. Wrists aching, head spinning, stomach a crevice in your torso. How long would this man lord over you as if you were about to bolt somewhere unknown when you could hardly tolerate the thought of breathing?

“Don’t flatter yourself with the impression of my attention.”

You didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. Pain had finally sapped the last of your resources. All you did was nod, agreeing with him again in hopes he’d leave you alone.

His shadow hovered over you for what seemed like minutes before turning and walking back toward the camp. The sun grazed your face, reddened your eyes, and you groaned, covering your face with your hands. If you had the ability, you would’ve gotten up to find shade.

Footsteps returned, bringing dread with them. You simply knew it was Tavington, but couldn’t begin to wonder or even care about what he wanted now. When his shadow loomed, you didn’t move.

“Up,” he said.

You frowned. Your hands fell from your face and you squinted through exhaustion. He towered, expression flat, a canteen in one of his gloved hands. Glancing away, you looked around for evidence of irreality. Certainly you were dreaming.

“Sit up.” He raised his palm as if to urge you aloft.

With quaking arms, you pushed yourself onto your elbows, but as you tried to sit forward, you collapsed back to the ground in a heap. You pursed your lips, avoiding his gaze. Your own weakness humiliated you. Clenching your teeth, you managed to curl to one side and drag yourself awkwardly into a kneeling position, hunched like a sack of grain at his feet.

Tavington exhaled a long sigh, and then stepped forward. He screwed open the canteen and sought your gaze, your acknowledgement. The promise of water felt more like a blessing—there was no way you could say no. You swayed in anticipation of it. His palm pressed under your chin, fingers flexing around each side to steady you. Holding his gaze, you felt smooth wood prod your lips. Your jaw fell open.

The moment he tipped the canteen forward, water coated your tongue, sluiced down your throat, and you moaned, drinking hungrily. It soothed your gnawing stomach, flushed your dry mouth, soaked every bit from your teeth to your toes in glorious, holy moisture. Your eyes fluttered closed, and the more you drank, the needier you became. Energy building, you hunched forward and gripped the canteen with two hands, wrapping your lips around it.

Another groan, your throat and head bobbing as you swallowed, so voracious that it leaked from the corners of your mouth. It refreshed you, and you whimpered in relief as it trickled down your neck to your collarbone. Water wet your shirt.

Just as you thought you surely drank the ocean, Tavington pulled the canteen away, and you coughed in shock as you were ripped to reality again. Gasping, you gazed up at him, your cheeks hot. His nostrils flared. Blackness had swallowed the blue in his eyes.

Tongue rolling in his mouth, he thumbed your jaw, collecting some of the spilt water and traced it back over your parted lips. A strong, leather finger scraped itself clean on your teeth. You shivered. You swallowed.

“I doubt Edwards will appreciate you wasting his water,” he said, almost conspiratorially, releasing your face to close the canteen. In your lap, he dropped a large bullet of bread. “Do try not to waste his food.”

Chin tilting up, he spun on his heel and returned to his men.

#william tavington #colonel tavington #colonel william tavington #jason isaacs #the patriot #fanfiction problems #playing soldier #SORRY THE SMUT WILL COME IN LIKE 4 MORE CHAPTERS OR SOMETHING WERE JUST REALLY TRYING TO MAKE IT GOOD OK

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tickle-bugs · 2 years ago

Note

For the writing thingie, maybe ler!Robin lee!Steve? The phrase could be “Steve, don’t make me sit on you again…”

your honor, they are everything to me. hope u enjoy!! still trying to figure out robin tbh

Under Covers

Robin leans her bike against the garage, careful not to scrape. Steve’s home--his car sits idle in the driveway, waiting patiently to ferry them both to Family Video. They’re already late, technically, but they’re not late late yet.

An argument could be made that she could simply bike to work, admonishing Steve from the high horse of punctuality, but that’s no fun.

She jiggles her key in the lock and throws the door open, dumping her bag by the door. It’s quiet and dark downstairs, the kitchen unused, neither of which are a good sign. Steve’s usually a morning person, but on the days where he isn’t, he has to be surgically removed from sleep. It’s a coin toss, really, if he’s late over his hair or late for oversleeping and his hair.

She inhales as much as her lungs can manage, then: “Steeeeeeevvvvveeeeee!”

No response. She scowls.

She helps herself to a glass of orange juice and promptly rinses the glass, never one to make extra work for Steve when possible. Bothering him, yes, but inconveniencing him? Not if she can help it.

She thumps up the stairs two at a time. Steve’s bedroom door is cracked open when she gets there, exposing the comically lumpy mass of blankets on his bed and the upsetting pile of laundry in not one, but two corners of the room. Robin has half a mind to do a running jump onto the bed, but he’s gotten way too good at convincing her to take pre-work naps. They need this job. Unfortunately.

“Steve. Steven. Steeb.” Robin leans in the doorframe, biting her lip on an affectionate smile. Steve’s hair pokes out just at the top of the blanket pile.

“Don’t make me sit on you,” She says a little louder, moving over to the left side of the bed. Steve wrinkles his nose and makes a grumbly noise.

“Three, two--”

“Bobin?” He mumbles, squinting at her.

She pounces. He screams, muffled by the blanket, but then he tumbles into wild giggles and flails for purchase.

“Get up, get up, get up!” She squeezes at his sides through the blanket, feeling around blindly but knowing intimately where to strike. His arms fly free of the blanket and he starts grappling with her, trying to poke at her like the bastard he is, but she’s on a goddamn mission. Either they’re getting to work on time (unlikely) or he’s going to die (still on the table).

“Get. up.” She starts tickling his ribs, sliding up under his arms every time he tries to swat at her. Steve honest-to-god snorts, which she didn’t know he could do. She catalogues it for later.

“W-Why--Ah, Robin, nohoho!” Steve whines and covers his face. She starts poking at his stomach, speeding up whenever he tries to grab her. His laughter revs like an engine. He twists away suddenly, curling up on his side and as close to the edge of the bed as he can physically get. Robin chuckles at him and tazers his side. He makes no sense. Only Steve would forfeit all the empty space in his bed rather than use it to escape.

“We’re late, dingus!” She reaches back and squeezes his thigh. He shrieks like his life depends on it, voice cracking around his laughter in that way she loves.

“I’m up!” Steve wheezes, lunging forward to grab her wrists. She squeezes again and he crumples into the mattress, throwing his head back against the pillows. He tries to say her name, or possibly curse at her, but all that comes out is a jumble of syllables and frantic, nervous giggles.

“No, if you were up, you’d be getting ready.” She pauses, just to prove her point. Steve pushes his hair out of his face and fixes her with the bitchiest look he can manage. She grins. He scowls.

“I’ll drag you out of bed if I have to.” She crosses her arms. When he wriggles down into the bed like an indignant little worm, he earns her wrath. It’s only natural. She’s given him an out and a half. Robin feels around under the blanket and grabs Steve’s ankle, skittering her nails over the curve of his heel and up. It’s a fast track to a black eye, but she’s gotten quicker lately.

There’s a screechy peal of laughter, then a thump--a loud one, and not from Steve’s side. Robin peers over the right side of the bed, feeling for the nearest pillow to defend herself from whatever creatures might lurk in here.

Instead, she finds Eddie Munson. His hair’s a mess, more so than usual, and his face is bright pink. He’s oddly jittery.

“What.” Robin and Eddie blink at each other. She looks down at her hand, clutched around what is decidedly not Steve’s foot, then back up at Eddie. He gives her a sheepish wave.

“Oh my god.” She drops Eddie’s ankle. Eddie. Here. In Steve’s bed.

“Robin--” Steve holds his hands out soothingly.

“Oh my god.” She drops her head in her hands.

“Is that a good ‘oh my god’ or do I need to change my locks?” Eddie asks from somewhere beside her. He climbs back up onto the bed and drops beside her. The mattress dips to accept him.

“Still deciding,” She groans. Steve rubs her back, murmuring something soft and sickeningly fond in Eddie’s direction. She’s happy for Steve--god, she’s over the fucking moon for him, really. She teases him because someone needs to, but her heart swells knowing there was a resolution to all the yearning passing between the two of them.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I should’ve been the first to know!” Robin smacks Steve’s bare chest. He catches her hand.

“Well, you’re like the third to know.” Robin glares at him, but Steve throws his hands up in surrender. “Kidding! Third, because me and Eddie. Honestly, Rob, we were gonna tell you.”

“We’re, uhm, still figuring it out.” Eddie nudges her shoulder, but his shmoopy eyes are firmly on Steve. Gross.

“Alright, well…I have questions. So many questions. But first--” She pokes his chest as aggressively as possible. Eddie copies her, hitting Steve’s stomach instead.

“Up, yes, I knohow--” Steve’s voice breaks on a giggle. He crumples awkwardly into Robin, twisting away from Eddie. Robin’s tempted to help, but she leans away from Steve to give Eddie more access. Drama’s more fun, anyhow. Steve doesn’t laugh nearly enough.

“No--” Steve points accusingly at Eddie. Eddie only grins wider in response.

“You’ve given me a tremendous gift, Buckley!” Eddie cackles, wiggling his fingers into Steve’s sides. Steve yelps and bolts, managing to skid in the bathroom and slam the door before Eddie can vault over the bed. Robin and Eddie both chuckle.

“Sorry if I helped make you late,” Eddie says, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. A devious little idea grows in the back of her head.

“Yeah, you did.” She lunges at him with an evil laugh. Eddie squeaks and tries to scramble away, but Robin’s on him already, heart growing three sizes at the now-pair of dinguses she’d never choose to live without.

#my fics #bug’s greatest hits #stranger things #steeb and bobin <3 #ticklish!steve harrington #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #steddie #yes robin has a key to steve's house #also eddie was 100% helping robin tickle steve she just didn't know #god i missed these three so much. i miss writing them!!!!

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canirove · 1 year ago

Text

Granada | Chapter 14

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

“Good morning, Rowena.”

“Good morning, your majesty” she said as she sat down at the table.

“Are you feeling better?” the queen asked.

“Much better. Thank you for asking.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby.”

“Oh, a baby” she giggled. “I’ve never understood why we say that when we have a good night of sleep. Babies usually sleep badly, though I must say that Rúben was a good sleeper. Way better than Diogo.”

“Sorry, mother” he smiled.

“Rowena, were you a good sleeper as a baby?” the queen asked her.

“I don’t know, your majesty. My mother never said.”

“That probably is because you were a good one.”

“Someone slept well, and woke up hungry” the king chuckled.

“Oh, yes, sorry” Rowena said when she saw the amount of food on her plate. “I am famished.”

“You left most of what you had eaten on that poor flowerpot” Diogo laughed.

“Didi!” Anne said, hitting his arm.

“Sorry, my lady” he apologized.

“It’s alright, don’t worry” Rowena smiled.

“Where is that husband of yours?” the king asked.

“He…” she mumbled, looking for an excuse. She was pretty sure he hadn’t come back to bed. She fell asleep not long after he abruptly left to find her a piece of cake, and when she woke up that morning, his side of the bed was cold.

“Good morning, everyone” Rúben said, walking into the dining room.

“Speak of the devil” his uncle chuckled, giving him a big pat on the back when he sat next to him, as far away from Rowena as he could. What was going on with him? Had she done something wrong?

“Well, now that the whole family is finally together, is there anything anyone would like to share? Any good news?” the queen asked. “No one?” she asked again, looking first to Rowena and then to Rúben.

“Why are you looking at me like that? he said.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“I’ve done nothing.”

“Haven’t you, dear?”

“Is this because I slept in one of the guest rooms? I didn’t want to bother Rowena, she needed to rest.” So that’s where he had been.

“And why did she need to rest?”

“Because it had been a long day, and she was still recovering from hitting her head during the football game.”

“Oh, please stop it, Rúben!” the queen said. “I know!”

“You know what?” he asked, visibly confused.

“That Rowena is pregnant!”

“That I what?” she said, her voice getting lost between everyone else’s.

“You are pregnant and you hadn’t told me?” Anne asked her.

“Oh, congratulations, brother!” Diogo yelled, getting up to hug Rúben.

“The family is growing!” their uncle said, toasting with the king.

“Can you… Can you all please stop!” Rúben roared.

“What is it, son?” the king asked.

“Rowena isn’t pregnant.”

“Of course she is” the queen chuckled. “The nausea, the fainting, eating a lot… Those are signs of being pregnant!”

“She isn’t pregnant. Tell them” Rúben said, looking at her.

“I… I’m sorry, your majesty” Rowena whispered, fixing her eyes on her plate, her cheeks burning.

“But I… I… Are you sure?” the queen asked her.

“I bled last week, your majesty” she whispered again.

“If you had bothered to ask her maid instead of jumping into conclusions…” Rúben said as he got up and stormed out of the room.

“I… I’m so sorry, Rowena. I didn’t… I…”

“It’s alright, your majesty” she said, her mind only focused on one thing. On Rúben and his weird behaviour.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Hello, Rowena."

"How did you know it was me?"

"I smelled your perfume."

"You are able to smell it among all the horses?" she asked.

"I could smell it everywhere" Rúben replied while brushing one of the horses' mane. "Wait, that sounded a bit weird."

"A bit, yes" Rowena chuckled. "But it's fine, it's you. My husband. The one who didn't come back to bed last night."

"Yes, about that…"

"I'm sorry" they both said at the same time.

"You are sorry?" she asked. "What for?"

"I told you I was going to get you some cake and I… I just couldn't go back to the party and face them all, then I couldn't find a servant, and then I didn't want to go back and wake you up."

"You probably wouldn't have woken me up, you know how I sleep."

"Yeah" he chuckled, finally lifting his eyes from the horse and looking at her. "Why did you apologize?"

"For ruining your birthday party."

"Rowena, I already told you last night. You didn't ruin anything."

"Maybe. But I shouldn't have been so stubborn. I should have rested like you constantly told me to."

"On that, we agree" he smiled.

"But I didn't do it, and look at the mess I created. What happened this morning…"

"I know" Rúben said, looking back at the horse.

"I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

"It isn't, Rowena. My mother should have been more careful."

"Maybe. But the symptoms were there, you know? It was easy to get confused."

"It was" he said, back to brushing the horse's mane.

"Do you… do you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive."

"But you were clearly mad this morning."

"I was. But not at you, I promise" he said, looking at her once again. She wanted to believe him, he looked honest. But she had the feeling he was hiding something from her.

"Then I don't need to bribe you with a present?"

"A present? For me?"

"Look at you getting all excited" she laughed. "It was your birthday last night, and in case you have forgotten, I told you I had got you something."

"You actually said that, yes" he smiled. But this time, it was that smile. The one she loved, the one that was just for her. "It feels like it happened a long time ago."

"It does. But do you still want it?"

"Of course" Rúben said.

"Then put that down and close your eyes."

"Rowena…"

"I trusted you when you gave me my present, didn't I? Now it is your turn to trust me."

"Alright" he laughed, putting down the brush and closing his eyes. "Now what?"

"Now stay very still" she said as she moved around him, standing behind him. "Open."

"What… a necklace?" he asked, looking down at the stone resting on his chest.

"My birthstone" Rowena replied.

"Your…" Rúben said, turning around to face her.

"You got me yours, and I got you mine. It's funny because it is the same colour as my dress from last night."

"Sky blue" he smiled.

"Exactly. So I'm afraid our colours are going to be the same as my family's."

"I don't mind" he replied, looking from the little stone to her. "Thank you, Rowena."

"You're welcome" she smiled. "Now I will always carry you with me, and you will always carry me with you. Just like your mother does with you, Diogo and the King."

"Yes" he whispered.

"My prince, are you getting emotional?" Rowena teased him.

"What? No, no. It's just some dust because the horse moved, nothing else."

"Sure…"

"It is."

"I said sure."

"It is… Romina" Rúben smirked.

"Romina!" she laughed. "I can't remember the last time you called me that."

"Me neither, to be honest" he chuckled. "But I wanted to tease you, and I know getting your name wrong always does the trick."

"That, and calling me cupcake."

"Cupcake is my own little poppy. It is said with love, not to tease you."

"With…"

"My prince. Princess" one of the stable boys said behind them. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't interrupt anything" Rowena quickly said. "I was actually just leaving, I want to take a quick nap before lunch."

"Good idea. You need to rest, wife" Rúben winked.

"I… do" she said, feeling her cheeks get warm. He had never winked at her before, and it definitely was… something. "See you for lunch."

"Of course. And Romina..."

"What?" Rowena said, rolling her eyes but also smiling.

"Thank you" Rúben said while touching his necklace.

"You're welcome" she replied, a stupid smile on her face as she left the stables. One that accompanied her as she walked through the gardens on her way back to the palace.

"But are you sure it was Prince Rúben?" she heard someone say behind some bushes, the mention of Rúben's name catching her attention.

"That back of his is difficult to get confused" someone else replied.

"But it was his birthday party. Why would he leave?"

"He wanted to celebrate."

"I thought he had stopped seeing Iris."

Iris? Who was Iris? Rowena said to herself as she moved a bit closer to hear more of the conversation.

"He stopped seeing her regularly when he got married, but he still sees her from time to time."

"I thought he loved the princess."

"Love" the first voice snorted. "That's for fairy tales. This is the real world, and he was forced to marry a total stranger. So now that he got his job done and managed to get the princess pregnant, he's back to visiting his favourite girl."

"She would also be my favourite girl" the second voice laughed. "She's so beautiful…"

"But she's the prince's whore, so take that idea out of your head."

She is his what?

"Now, let's go finish this before someone calls us out for being lazy" the first voice said.

"Yes, yes" the second replied. "Are you sure the princess is pregnant, tho? The maids were saying…"

But Rowena didn't hear anything else. She was frozen in place, what those two servants had been talking about repeating in her head over and over again. Rúben had lied to her. Everything that had been happening between them since they had moved to the summer palace was a lie. He was seeing someone else. He had someone else. Another woman. Iris.

#ruben dias #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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bonefall · 2 years ago

Note

wait hawkfrost's turnaround??? hawkfrost redemption real???

Yes!

There are two things that bother me massively about Hawkfrost's story, and I've got fixes that are going to pinpoint both of these.

Hawkfrost inherited evil. Because he never met his father until after the journey, and RiverClan has apparently completely moved on from supporting TigerClan and wanting to murder mixed-Clan cats and is sooo sorry (i hate shadow in riverclan), it implies Hawkfrost is the problem. His death is just the removal of a 'bad apple' allowing RiverClan to Finally Have Peace. There Is No Need To Throw Out The Barrel :) No deeper systemic issue at play, here.

Evil people can't change. Born evil, died evil, continued to be evil in death. Pair this with the way the Dark Forest had no plan besides Doing Violence and the fact we only BRIEFLY spoke about redemption in the last arc, it implies he's just a ball of malice with nothing deeper.

There is actually a lot I like about Hawkfrost as a villain! But these are the two things I felt were most important to fix, so I worked with these two things as a guiding philosophy to reduxing Hawkfrost.

FIX 1: Inheriting Evil

Instead of inheriting evil, Hawkfrost is radicalized by ex-TigerClan supporters in RiverClan.

Blackclaw, Skyheart, Heavystep, and his mentor Leopardstar think there were "some problems" with Tigerstar, but hey, why throw out the kitten with the tonguewash? Thistle Law did not have the reckoning in RiverClan that it had in other Clans.

Leopardstar had a brief period of guilt after the fervor of TigerClan drained away, and in a better time, may have had a true reckoning with what she allowed to happen... but as time passed, the shame, the fear, and the repentance began to fade and she started to remember those days with some fondness.

And Hawkfrost was all those best qualities of his father, without the bad ones. Or, that's what they saw and encouraged.

The death of Hawkfrost is actually one of the most important aspects of Bonefall TNP, imo... because this time his death doesn't make the ideas go away. Mistyfoot thought it would fix it, just like the last time a Tigerkin died in a bloody and horrific way, but RiverClan is still hardening. They don't believe he impaled himself on the spike Mothwing was holding. They think ThunderClan had something to do with it.

The argument about the meeting island is brought up again and RiverClan explodes into an argument. Mistyfoot looks up at her leader begging her to stop the fighting, and the sun turns Leopardstar into a shadow

The shape of a cat lounging on top of a pile, staring down at her with amber-eyed amusement. It's the Bonehill. It's the cheering crowd. It's Stonefur's last stand all over again.

She realizes that Hawkfrost was just another type of victim; and these ideas will not die unless they are killed.

FIX 2: Evil Can't Change

Hawkfrost is able to realize he has been used.

I find this important because the redemption and death of Hawkfrost should do what Snowtuft's does, functionally, waaaay off in TBC. It shows it's possible, but the question is put off because of his untimely death to leave it open for future arcs to pick back up on.

Though it's also important to not say that Ivypool "fixed" him. It is a realization he has on his own, helped along through the way he becomes her Dark Forest mentor.

(REMINDER: Mentorships are best described as being similar to getting a third parent in this rewrite)

I'm still planning the exact order of scenes to determine how this happens, but I do have several in mind.

Ivypool's Horse

A cute moment where, as a mentor, he tries to reward her by bringing her to see the nightmares. The scene is important for several reasons; 1. horsie 2. It establishes the Dark Forest is not actually a prison to escape. It has beauty and fun in it just like any other territory. He never realized that before. 3. Shows he isn't completely lost. The bar is so low it is literally in Hell but he does consider the needs of his apprentice, more than just training a soldier.

A Chat with Leopardstar

Every day, Leopardstar is reminded of what she supported, and of what TigerClan really was like. She's demoted back to lackey status and Hawkfrost sees his proud mentor getting pushed around. Leopardstar deeply regrets a lot of things, and chats honestly with Hawkfrost about them. 1. This conversation makes Hawkfrost connect the dots that he is doing to the trainees what was done to him, though he doesn't make the connection that this is Bad yet, ("when the dark forest is StarClan we will BE their gods so it's fine. It's all for the Cause.") 2. It starts to sink in what Tigerstar does to people-- uses them.

The horrifying death of Antpelt

He did NOT know that the living could kill Dark Forest warriors. This event shakes confidence in many fighters, but especially Ivypool who experiences survivor's guilt feeling like she's the reason he's gone. 1. Suddenly there's actual stakes to this. Attacking the living could mean dying to them-- is that something he wants to risk? 2. Ivypool is distraught

Something to do with infighting

The Dark Forest demons have MANY different motivations and don't always get along. Ripplestar and Spottedpelt are being convinced to fight for revenge, Ryewhisker and Cloudberry want the abolishment of the Law of Loyalty, Clawface is a true believer in Thistle Law, Runningnose looks like he's planning something. Hawkfrost has to get in the middle of these opinions and prevent the coalition from falling apart. 1. Exposes him to new ideas 2. Shows that Hawkfrost is doing a LOT of the work of maintaining the alliance and remembering several lies at once, which is very tiring. 3. Allows Ivypool to realize he's telling people what they want to hear and trust him less, which is a blow to him.

Flametail

When he dies, the Dark Forest cats are prepared to get rid of him so he won't end up ascending to StarClan and taking their secrets with him. Tigerstar steps in and prevents this from happening. 1. THIS is the moment Hawkfrost realizes he will always be second fiddle to Tiger's first litter. "...he never would have done that for Mothwing." 2. There is no great commitment to a cause. Tigerstar is just doing whatever he wants. If he's going to just be saving random people he likes... what's the point of attacking? 3. I want this one to be one of the last ones.

As you can see it's a lot of planning about what I WANT to do. Less of an actual roadmap.

#Hawkfrost redemption #Hawkfrost #Bonefall Rewrite #Bonefall OotS #Ivypool

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rotm-channel · 3 months ago

Text

RotG Wild West Au

Cool Handed Jack

It was another typical day at the North Pole ....if you can call an argument Between Santa Claus,The Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy about the Northern lights typical…

“How many times I got to tell you it's not problem that we can deal with just like that!”North argued

“I didn't ask you for your opinion!”Bunnymund Retorted back

“I didn't get sleep last night because I had to fix Guardian Lights.”North counterted his remark,he and all the team were worried sick about it because without the lights working there was no quick way of calling them to the North Pole,something terrible could happen and they would be too late,this fear of helplessness made them worry.

“We've been talking about this for 3 hours and we still don't know where to start!”Toothiana said, trying to calm the two guardians down.

“Look Tooth you flying here does not fix problem.”North said in return

But I just think tha

“I know urgency it's probably more important to me than it to you!And I invented it!So just stop pushing me.”

“Stop Pushing?!”Bunnymund said

“We've had this broken down for a week now!What if an emergency happened most of us could do nothing about it”He added in

“Okay so we're all tired and we all want to get it done as soon as possible so why don't we just try a different approach.”

Meanwhile Jack was watching some westerns on an portable TV he found them so fun even though they took place in the Dry and Hot Desert most of the time.He had always had a bit of fondness for them after all he grew up as a cattle boy and with his memories back these films had a feeling of familiarity to him now more than ever.

And the toys of the workshop helped them feel what with the cowboy action figures,horses,stage coaches and toy town and model train set running around it just worked out!Several elves joined in on the fun too and put on cowboy outfits and tied up Dingle dressed as a Bandit to a small christmas tree.

He didn't want to be bothered with the problem but he couldn't help but sad to see his friends arguing,and he wanted to help so he came up with an idea…

He walked up to the globe room passing several Yetis rushed about with tools trying to help fix the broken mechanism.

“Hi Phil!”He said as he saw him pass by,Phil however was in a hurry and had no time to respond.

“Hey?Uh North?”He began

Look Jack I already told you keep out of this”North said in reply

“Well , I just thought…”

Well just don't there's nothing you can do to help,It's enough dealing the breakdown here without you make it more difficult with mischievous plans.North said

“Yeah go back and leave us alone!”Bunymund thought he had enough problems without dealing with Jack

“That right and we make decisions!”North said

“Jack?Tooth asked

“Yes?”He replied

“Could you please turn that Television down?”She asked him and with a sigh he complied

“Well…all I wanted to do was just give a suggestion”,Jack silently muttered to himself as he went back.

Meanwhile the argument got even more heated

“WELL THERE ARE SOMETHINGS we can live without and this is not one of them”Bunnymund said

”Oh,and what did do before we have Northern Lights?”North argued back

“Holy Mackerel…just listen to this guy!”Bunnymund said back

“Look,guys you should stop arguing amongst yourselves so we can finally get somewhere?”Toothiana asked she didn't like the way their chat was going

”But…”

”But nothing just leave me alone so I get back to work.”North said to bunnymund

”Look North we don't want to tell you what to do it's just that this is very important to all of us to have the lights functional.”Tooth said in a gentle tone

Jack went back he felt as if he was invisible and unwanted yet again, the words of the others were still lingering in Jacks mind as he was getting tired and started to drop off to sleep Sandy who was awoken by the argument noticed as his eyes closed and so he gave him some Dreamsand.As Jack was falling asleep the words of the fellow Guardians ”Keep out of this Jack!” and the TVs gunfire echoed through his mind

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

Gunfire was heard in J.Shorters Bank in Sandy Springs,the Bankteller was held at gunpoint by one of the bandits.

“Oh my,Oh my,you can't do that!Mr.Shorty will be very mad”:He said in disarray as the bandits handed each other the bags of gold one by one.

While at Gunpoint the teller remembered a small alarm by the counter of the desk…slowly he inched his way towards it,unbeknownst to the thieves.

“Cmon,Cmon thats it”One of them said as he took the bags of riches one by one

“Just one more..”The other one said

“Yeah Just one more” the another one replied

“Trouble with you two is that you just plain greedy”Said the lead bandit to the other two.

“Hurry it up,Hurry it up!”Another one said

Suddenly a shot rang out and ink flew across the teller

“I wouldn't do that if I were you ... .next time I'm aiming for you”Said one of the bandits sending shivers down the spine of the teller

“Okay you,time to go!”Said the lead bandit and the other two walked out the door

He then turned back to the teller:”I hope you have nice warm fireplace.”

After which he shot down a lamp and set it ablaze

Before Leaving he stopped to say:”We the Guardian gang,so see you round partner.”

The Bankteller rushed to the phone.

“Operator!Operator!Fire!Help!Robbery!Oh my!”He said overwhelmed with worry

Outside the gang in their six horse oven stagecoach were riding high.

“YIPPEE YI YAY!YAHOO!YAHHA!WOOHOO!YAHEY!”

They cried as they drove over a garden with the owner shaking his fist at the bandits who knocked down his fence.

“How we doing?”Maverick Nick the bandleader asked his team

“If you try to ride this this coach and not fly it we'll do a whole lot better”Deadshot Aster replied

“Yeah try not to make us lose any teeth before we spend the money”Dragontooth said in agreement

“What the matter Aster?I thought you like little bit of dangerous riding!”Nick said to his fellow bandit

,he didn't just like it….he loved it

“Yeah I know but I'd like to stay in one piece too!What's next chief?”Aster said not sharing Nicks sentiment

“Little Gold consignment in Kansas City and the nearest town from here to there is..Jackville”Maverick Nick said

“Seem it time to visit”Nick continued

“Wait!Did you just say….Jacksville?”Aster asked in astonishment at Nick's statement

“Yes so what?”He said

Well the Sheriff there has a reputation for Law and Fun!And I had a brush with him several times,none good.”Aster said reflecting upon his long-time rivalry with the wild lawmaker

“And they say he's the coolest draw in the west.”Dragontooth added in ,also vary of his skill.

”Don't tell that you scared!I say next stop Jackville”Nick said brushing off the worries of his team as the stagecoach rushed over the lone prairie.

Jackville Law Abiding folks welcome:The sign by the entrance of the town read.

Sheriff Jack was resting in his office he felt a cool breeze as he reflected back,just yesterday he shot off an apple of the Bartender's head while saying that he would do it"without knocking down a single hair".Then again the Bartender was bald.But what was just law and order without some fun and excitement, this town needed enough of both.

When suddenly a small man broke in and started gesturing in sign language.

“The Guardian Gang is in town?Ok let's play it cool then….”He said as he headed along with this small deputy to the Saloon

At the Saloon the atmosphere was most dissatisfactory with the three new guests.

”Another drink and be quick about it mate!”Aster said

“Yeah I could do with another strong drink.”Nick added in

“I hope you aren't planning no trouble after all this is a Law abiding town and this is a respectable Bar!”Katherine the bar owner said

“Why don't you get lost sweetheart?”Aster replied

“What's hurry I hope you not trying to pull out just when lifes getting sweet?”Nick said

“Err..Well no chief but..”Aster began

“Good.”North replied cutting him off

“Nick?Could we discuss the plan now?”Dragontooth said,she was interested in the loot.

“Sure at Six today the express mail train will pick up largest load of Gold and Diamond ever shipped in the west and right now it safe and sound but 5 minutes before the train leave station that gold will be wheeled out on platform and that's when our dream will come true!”He said as the team listened intently,each member pictured the prized valuables which would soon rest in the palm of their hands.

Just then Sheriff Jack entered the Bar and shot a cold gaze at all present

Silence fell

He slowly walked up to the ringer as everyone attention was redirected to him

“What'll it be, sheriff?”Said the Bartender

“Want to try some of mine,Sheriff?”Nick offered

”No,just milk.”Jack said calmly

Silence fell again and all eyes were on him.

The Gang all looked at him intently

All was silent

Jack slowly reached for his milk.

His hand slowly made his way to it and……

BANG!A shot rang out!And hit the drink

And then another and another!

Everyone ducked to the side

Deadshot Aster missed and Jack shot his gun out of his hand.

“Alright don't move,hold it right there!”He said once again defeating his long time opponent

Dragontooth was about to get him when Deputy “Sandy” hit her with a chair, knocking her out and sending her to dreamland.

Nick was about to get Jack but as he aimed Katherine hit him with a pie she had on the coaster

“Let that be a lesson to you, never be rude to a lady.”She said

“Great job gang!”Jack said congratulating the loyal friend.After which he looked at the gang

“Alright all of you put your hands up!”Jack said smiling smugly at his opponents

“Stravinsky.”Nick muttered as he and his team was taken away

“Well get even with you Sheriff…..”Dragontooth said

Jack ignored it

“Okay Sandy put them in”He said pointing to the cell

“You can just cool off in there, okay?He said with a mischievous grin,it's the cooler after all.”He said,this was gonna be fun.

Not long later however the phone ranged

“Yes?”Jack said taking it up to his ear

“Trouble down at the Eastwood rodeo Sheriff!Could you come down?”:said the voice from the phone.

“Sure Jamie!”He said in reply

The small mute deputy gestured.

“Yes I'm leaving to help Jamie,you stay here Sandy and guard them till I return.”He said

“And remember to keep an eye on them.”He added before he shut the door and left.

One Hour later the deputy was growing sleepy and subsequently fell asleep whilst he lay there the gang plotted…

They had connected a hook to a piece of wire and were trying to get the keys which lay on the desk.Whispering amongst each other.

“Just a little more”Dragontooth said

“Easy”Aster said nervously

“Tchaikovsky!”Nick said as he once again missed

“Try again.”Dragontooth said hopefully

“Thats it,Thats it,Thats it”Aster added in as the hook neared the desk

Lady Luck must have smiled on them for they got the keys hooked up and slowly dragged them across the floor to the cell.

Sandy would move every now and again,stirring as if his dream was turning into a nightmare.However the gang got out quietly without waking the sleeping little deputy.

“Tooth you take care of him i'll get the weapons.”Nick said

Sandy awoke by the noise the gang was making and found himself bound and not gagged.He was tied to his seat and could only helplessly look on as the gang made their getaway.

Nick came from the door and said:

“I hope you have nice warm fireplace.”

And promptly shot the oil lamp down from the ceiling and set it ablaze with the second shot

The fire spread rapidly,whilst the gang went to their stagecoach and fled.

Sandy was struggling and trying to unbound himself while the fire came closer and closer.

He knew he wouldn't make it out through the exit as he was bound and would never make it so he knocked over the phone.

While he couldn't talk he still could alert Jack.

He did his form of emergency communication one tap yes two taps no.

“Who is this?”Tap Tap Tap Tap! “Sandy is that you?” “Tap” “Is there some sort of trouble?”

“Tap.”

“Don't worry, I'm on my way!”Jack said as he rushed off

The Stagecoach was going wildly through the lone prairie at dangerous speeds.

Suddenly it stopped at the crossroad which read:Santa Fe and Border.

Aster was surprised”Why have we stopped mate?”

”Look, we make plan and we do it!”Nick replied

“I don't know the mountain road is hard and this large stagecoach won't make it!”Aster said,he was not usually worried about such things but Nicks wild driving was a bit too much for him

“And I'm not risking my neck in Kansas after “The Fall of 78”.And that gold shipment will surely have guards.”He continued

“Look I glad we out of Jail but we still have hope to ride off into sunset as richest and most famous bandits ever.”He was so close for his dreams to come true and didn't want to give up

“I say we go to the border where we'll be safe.”Dragontooth said in worry of being caught,yet her heart yearned for the beutiful gems which were so close to being hers.

“We can make for Santa Fe you don't know this Stagecoach as much as I , why I….”Nick began

“Built it?”Aster asked

“Of Course not!I stole it!”Nick replied laughing heartily

“We should just scram. I don't want to be on this crazy thing one minute longer than I need to!And I'm feeling sick.”Aster continued

“Listen you two !We can still make it!And have all the gold and gems we want!”Dragontooth said her desire for gemstones won over her fear.

“I'm not risking my neck just to satisfy your greed!We've got plenty from the other places we hit and when we double-crossed the Midget Terrors of Tiny Town.”Aster

“But this will make us legends”Nick said

“Can you two just make up your minds?”Dragontooth retorted

In the meantime the fire rained hot in the Sheriff's office…Jack saw his past melt before his eyes his valued memories gone in the light of the blaze the Guardians made.Fortunately He made it in time to save Sandy and carried him over the flames.While Sandy was not a good talker he was a great listener and knew exactly what the bandits planned to do!

He wrote down the Border and Santa Fe and information he heard.

“Hmm the border but their heart was on the gold and gems too ...and they'll make it there before the express and then they would get the gold and make a clean getaway…unless they're desperate people and determined…I'm going to put my career on them going for the gold and and i'll stop them even or bust!”

The round little Deputy wrote:You'd better be careful there, they're dangerous and tough. With the Price of 200,000 thousand dollars on their head and their legendary feats they are not to be taken lightly”

Jack nodded as he climbed on his horse and rode to the station

Meanwhile the gang finally made up their minds

“Ok Im going…but if this thing breaks to splinters it was your choice!”Aster said reluctantly agreeing with Nick

“So as I say, let's go!”He said as he pulled the reins causing the coach to accelerate rapidly,much to Aster's discomfort.

Jack got aboard the locomotive. It was beautifully decorated and modern. She was the Engineer's love.With diamond leaf lettering proudly presenting her name”Iron Belle“... .the chase of the horse and the iron horse was on!

Jack:”Well,well have to race with the wind to get their”The white haired sheriff said

”Don't worry I think we can!C'mon you can do it,show them what you're made of!”Casey the engineer said as he looked at his locomotive

The Guardian Gang had quite a lead by intercepting the train in the mountains but the horses struggled up the steep grades and Nick's urging didn't help much.

"What's wrong with them?Are you sure you don't have any brakes?Because they seem to be on."Aster sarcastically remarked.

The Iron Belle was gaining but the road went downhill so the gang was speeding up. It was a rough,wild and hazardous ride as they passed through a Railroad Crossing barely outpassing the locomotive

“Hot Diggity,that's it, looks like they're licked.Were gaining quick.”Casey said in joy

They started closing in…

The Iron Horse sped through the tunnel with its whistles wailing in a cry of victory!It surpassed the stagecoach as it came to a stop to avoid a collision and then Dragontooth keen eyes noticed something.

“The Sheriffs aboard!”Dragontooth sayed in surprise

”Are you sure?”Aster asked in worry that his old nemesis was back.

”Absolutely” She replied “I could tell by how the sun glinted off his sparkling white teeth.”

The horses got a second wind after the brief break and started to catch up.

Soon the train and the coach were nearly side by side!

”Keep 'em going neck and neck!”Aster said as he took aim

The race was on!

”Onward Jailbird, Laws nightmare and Spirit.”Nick said to his loyal steeds

“Woah!Careful mate!We want this sled to last”Aster said as the coach maneuvered haphazardly on the yellow mountain road and despite it all managed to dodge all the obstacles in its path.

“This is gonna be fun”:said The sheriff as he readied his gun

”He's got gun!”Nick said in surprise

“Whaddya expect mate?A shovel?”Aster retorted

Deadshot climbed aside and took aim and started shooting at the cab and Jack fired back they were practically next to each other.Jack hit the railing on which Aster was holding which disbalanced him and knocked him over while falling off he clumsily got his foot stuck in the ropes so he was dragged on.

“Direct hit”He said

“Don't stop, we can do it!”Dragontooth said as they kept up with the locomotive

Maverick Nick successfully navigated it through shortcuts through the mountain road so they could make up for the Trains' faster speeds.

As they rounded the next crossing they just barely passed the Trains; it wasn't over yet.

Meanwhile Aster was still dragging along through the dust and sand.

“Now that's what I call a Dust Bunny” Jack thought to himself grinning at the bandits mishap.

The Express kept on going full speed but soon enough they were yet again neck and neck with Jack firing back at Dragontooth.

The Steam pressure was building and Belle was straining under the speed it was going at!

“C'mon you can do it!”Kasey said as the train started straining

But she was losing steam rapidly,the bullet holes from Dragontooth and Aster on the boiler did their work and it was starting to look like the chase was over!

Aster was right!The Coach was put under too much pressure and lost a wheel just as it was going over a railroad crossing and got stuck.

“Raskolnikov!”Nick Called out as he saw the train approach

“Oh No!”The Brave Engineer cried out and put on the brakes

Sparks went flying as the wheels scraped the tracks.

But the train was still going too fast and collided with the coach as the horses ran loose as the reins broke and the coach got caught on the cowcatcher…

The gang was hanging on for dear life when suddenly..

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

"Jack?Jack?"Jack heard a familiar voice call out

"We must stop the Guardians gang"He mumbled

Jack woke up to see North and the guardians around him

”Jack?You been dreaming,are you right?”North said looking concerned

”Yeah…”Jack muttered as he came to realize it all was just a dream

”Sorry we were a bit tough on you,but we were all nervous about the breakdown.”Bunnymund said in an apologetic tones

”But we found solution!And to celebrate we have visit to Oklahoma as you wanted!North said triumphantly

”And well Jack,I just want to remind you that it won't be exactly like in all those westerns,so I hope you won't mind if there won't be any gunfights and robberies.”Tooth reminded Jack,she knew how much he loved the wild exploits in all the films,there we just so fun.

“You know,I guess I won't” he said reflecting on his dream

”What were you dreaming about?”North asked curiously

Jack thought about his dream and started“Well…”

“I was the Sheriff of Jacksville,and you were part of the guardian gang.”

The Guardians listened with interest,except Sandy who couldn't help but smile….

This happens circa a few months after the events of the movie,by this point in time Jack has gotten used to his life as a Guardian and coming often to North's Workshop to as he put it:Chill out.

Also I tried to make this all work to be canon so it had to be a dream that Sandy made for Jack.(Also the Terrors of Tiny town is an actual movie name for a western in this there somewhat like (all midget western)elfs with which the gang worked together for 3 years straight.......dont ask about the fourth year......it isn't pretty....

Please like,review and comment .It makes my day!And helps me.

Names

of RotG Wild West Au

Sheriff:"Cool-Handed "Jack-Our hero

Deadshot Aster-As dry and hostile as the outback

Maverick Nikolai “Nick”-Legendary bandit

Dragon Tooth-As beautyfull as she is dangerous

Deputy Sandy-Jacks loyal companion

FEEL FREE TO USE THEM!Only credit me please!And I hope you liked it!

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