#THAT HE HAD DRIFTED AWAY FROM WHAT IT MEANT TO BE A SAINT

[ode2rin]

US, AGAIN .ೃ

pairing. itoshi sae x gn!reader

genre. second chance (exes back to lovers!) | a bit of small town romance | a sprinkle of childhood friends to lovers (past) | angst with a happy ending 

content/warnings. 5.2k+ wc | characters are aged 25 in the present | pro-athlete!sae x coffee shop owner!reader | sae left for spain at 19 in here | mentions of sae’s vague past (especially the striker dream) | itoshi bros conflict never happened here let me be delusional | heavy in narration | minimal proofread

in which: itoshi sae returns to the only place on earth he vows to never set foot again.

💭 flashbacks are italicized and indented :>

Six years.

In those six long years of his absence, you couldn't deny that you rehearsed countless scenarios of encountering him upon his return. 

If by chance he still wanted to see you, or even look at you, you imagined giving him a small smile, a carefully crafted facade of composure, before gracefully walking away, as if life had moved on effortlessly for both of you.

That’s what you imagined. Just walk away, like how life went on for the both of you. 

But reality never seemed to align with your reveries. The sight of him wasn't remotely serene enough to prompt a composed exit. Seeing him made your throat tighten, and your heart danced in a rhythm only he could create.

Six damn years had passed since you last saw him on that balcony, and now, with him back in town, avoiding him seemed like the only right thing to do.

You don’t know how long he’ll be here, but it is now your life mission to avoid him at all cost. Today's encounter was just an unfortunate event—an inevitable twist of fate. Their house was literally right in front of your family's, making it hard to escape the nearness of the past.

“So, he’s back in town?” 

Hari's voice, your co-worker and now a dear friend, snapped you back from the reverie of yesterday's memories. The sound of her voice broke through the nostalgic haze, pulling you back to the present.

“What?”

“I asked if your childhood friend who is also a superstar slash professional athlete slash your only ex is back,” she mischievously asked, even miming quotation marks to emphasize each title she created.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head at her antics. Your gaze drifted to the freshly baked pastries, their delightful aroma greeting your senses like a warm embrace as you artfully displayed them on the shelves. The familiar scent of coffee and delightful confections used to calm you, but now it mingled with the storm of emotions inside.

“Yeah, it's basically the talk of the town. He's famous after all,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant and still focused on your work, using it as a shield to hide your vulnerability.

But in reality, the sight of him earlier had caught you off guard, and you had turned the other way to avoid him. Your heart was still racing from the almost encounter, and the comforting ambiance of your coffee shop provided little solace.

“Did he see you?”

“I pray to all saints that he didn’t,” you deadpanned, your facade of composure beginning to falter.

“What did he look like now?”

You hesitated, your mind flashing back to that fleeting glimpse of him earlier.

Far from what was once mine. “Good.”

“That’s it? Good?”

No. He looked gorgeous. He looked painfully gorgeous.

“What do you want me to say?” you countered, throwing a side glance to her persistence.

In that fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of how much he had changed. He looked undeniably handsome, lean, and with a certain maturity that hadn't been there before.

He… looked different.

And that's good—for you and for him. It meant that life there treated him well, and it eased some of the lingering guilt you carried.

You and Hari fell into a consuming silence, your backs turned away from each other. Even with closed eyes, you sensed that she wanted to ask something. You didn't want to initiate the conversation, but this suffocating silence had to go.

As you stepped behind the counter, you were met with Hari's concerned eyes and a voice laden with hesitation. “What are you going to do then?” she carefully asked.

You pressed your lips together, momentarily at a loss for words.

So you did what you do best: mask hurting with laughter.

“Is there anything I should do?” you paused, the sound of your fake laughter ringing in your ears. “It's been years. We made a choice.”

But Hari wasn't ready to let the matter rest, and you don’t know how to tell her you’re close to calling it a day. “You made a choice for him,” she countered gently, her tone filled with empathy.

Stunned was an understatement. Caught off guard would be an apt description. But speechless was exactly how you felt.

That, you couldn't mask with anything.

So you did what you weren’t best at: admitting the truth.

“And I’ll do it again,” you whispered in return. It was faint, because it was more for you than more of a reply to her. 

You were both young, and half oblivious to what it would be like outside, where the world wasn’t painted in golden hues and the gentle waves were replaced by blaring cars.

You were both seventeen, young and living for the hope of it all.

But you lived for days like those – days where both of you just had to be kids still. No worries, no voices of what might come.

“Tell me about your dreams, Sae.” “Tch. You already know about it.”

You did. All of it, you knew. Since you were kids, no one knew him like you did. You were his lover and confidant. You knew about it, all too well and all too much.

“Come on!” you persisted, giving him an enthusiastic look. “The sky looks so pretty in this sunset, I want it to know about us.” The setting sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the beach as you and Sae sat side by side in the sand. The sound of gentle waves caressed your ears, creating a serene backdrop for your beach date. He hesitated for a moment, looking out at the horizon. Then there it was, a glint of determination flashed in his usually reserved eyes. “To be the best striker in the world.” You couldn't help but be captivated by the sight. It was the first time you had seen such an unusual spark in his eyes. Sae's gaze was often cold and impersonal, but now it was as if stars were hanging in his eyes, reflecting the infinite possibilities of his dreams. Sae is handsome, mysteriously beautiful even. But this, nothing will beat how dreamy he looks when he speaks of his craft. You liked this look on him - so ambitious, so driven. It made your heart flutter with admiration. Seeing this glint in his eyes right now, you knew you wanted to do anything in your power to let it stay there.

And you did, you held on and held out. Until you turned nineteen, when you had let him go to the big cities where he rightfully belonged. 

You smiled, a genuine, heartwarming smile, and leaned in to press a tender kiss on his cheek. “I’m sure you will be the best.”

Maybe you bit off more than what you could chew, but in the end, you’d do it all over again. Because what you did, the choice you made – it was for the best.

You were both nineteen, young and eager to grasp the world's offerings with hopeful hands. 

But despite the certainty you tried to hold onto, there were nights when the memories tugged at your heartstrings like it did now. You knew it was the right choice, that you both needed to chase your dreams separately — especially his dreams. But it didn't erase the whispers of what-ifs that occasionally crept into your mind.

But life — life went on. Life never waits for anyone, anyway. And so, you worked diligently to craft a future that no longer had room for regrets.

But love leaves echoes, and his presence back in town stirred those dormant feelings. With him being in the same place, you felt like a stranger in your own town.

It was easier when he was thousands of miles away, an untouchable star on a different horizon. But now, with the universe conspiring to bring you close again, you couldn't help but feel like a wanderer in the galaxy of memories you built together.

After all, everything here in this town is about you and him. 

Six years.

Was it that long? He couldn’t really tell. Maybe time really does pass fast when your life is falling apart.

It has been six years since Sae has sat on the balcony of his childhood home. And like the sick bastard fate was, he’s welcomed by the sight of your horrified yet still so damn fucking beautiful face.

Perhaps the saints you prayed to didn’t hear any of your pleas, because despite calling out to each one, Sae saw you.

There you were, a flicker in the periphery of his vision, desperately trying to avoid him. He was trained to be very aware of his field of vision, so there was no way he wasn’t able to notice your frantic leaving and the hurried closing of your house’s door as you noticed him. 

He let you be, holding back the overwhelming desire to call out your name like he used to when both of you were running late to class. He let you be, because if you were to ask him, he wouldn’t know how to look you in the eye without a thousand words reflecting on his own. 

[Attention, everyone. This is the final boarding call for passengers of flight 924 to Madrid, Spain. Again, this is the final –] “Sae, you’re going to miss your flight. They’re not coming.” No. “They’re not coming, Sae. You have to get on the plane.” No. No. Shut up.

He needed you there, more than anyone. A thousand people could cheer and show up for Itoshi Sae, but his eyes will always search the crowd for just one — just yours.

Yet, alas, you were nowhere to be found. And so, that very same day, Sae vowed to never come back to this place.

He hated this town and you, he’s convinced.

Sae had always been indifferent to a lot of people, everyone knew that. But never in a hundred years would anyone who knew you both think you’d be on that list. And deep down, he didn’t want to believe it either – until that day you decided not to show up when you promised you would.

He wasn't stupid. He had an inkling of why you did what you did. Yet, irrationality overpowered reason, and all he wanted that day was to run the distance between the airport and your house – to see your face, to remind you that he had plans, plans for both of you.

When Sae’s manager informed him that he needed to come home for a while to renew his passport, it was as if all of his suppressed recollections of this place – of you, came pouring out to his soul all at once.

Every street, every corner, every memory — they all threatened to consume him. His family, Rin, this town, and you – you were all the things he left behind for the dream.

Dream. Best Striker in the world. What did it even mean? Long ago, he thought he knew.

But it had to work. Everything had to work. He lost you for this dream. And if he loses it too, then what does that make him? A sore failure. And Sae was never known to be admissible to failing.

Whatever hell he encountered on the other side of the world, he swore he would never return home. Even when he was traversing across a path to ruin of being the person he thought he would be, he would never ever choose to come home.

Anywhere, but here. Anywhere, but home.

So there he was, the renowned glorious prodigy of japan. He was close to everything after countless mishaps. 

He’s getting closer and closer to the new dream yet getting farther and farther away from home.

Home. What does it even mean? Lately, he doesn’t even know. 

And after that day, no one ever mentioned your name to him. No one in his new world knew about you. No one knew how Itoshi Sae's world used to revolve around someone's soft smiles and easy eyes. 

He never asked anyone not to mention you; he wasn't one to ask, after all. But for some reason, no one dared to. Not even Rin. It was as if one mention of you in his presence was a carefully crafted brick used to make his castles crumble to the ground.

He hated that, but maybe they were right. Because with just a second's worth of a glimpse of you from earlier, Sae indeed felt his castles crumbling, piece by piece.

He hates you, for making his resolve crumble. For being the one person who can make his vow to never look back fall apart.

He hates you, because everything in this forsaken place is about you and him. Memories of your shared youth are etched into the very walls and streets, haunting him like ghosts of a past he can't escape.

He hates you, for not trusting you two would work it out somehow, and for giving up before the game even began.

He hates you, because it was easier that way. Easier to pretend he didn't care, that you didn't matter, and that you were just another soul he knows a little too much of.

Sae could go on and on listing a hundred more, and yet he knows, only one of it was true – and that he hates you for making him convince himself that he does, just to cope with leaving half of his heart to the only place he vowed never to come back to.

It was a jinx to say that yesterday’s encounter was already an unfortunate event, because today, you literally learned a whole new degree of unfortunate and unlucky – by having Itoshi Sae as your first customer of the day. 

“Welcome! How may I help you toda— S-Sae.”

And to even top it off, today was Hari’s day off. It meant that you’re currently alone in the same confined four-cornered room with the person you swore you would avoid like it’s your life mission.

Damn it, Hari. Of all days. Her day off really had to be today.

Itoshi Sae, in the goddamn flesh, is standing in your place two meters away from you, yet you’re having a hard time feeling your feet on the ground and your heart beating so damn loud. 

He wasn’t looking at you (thank god), and had his eyes exploring the place with a neutral expression playing on his face. Suddenly, you feel like sixteen again back when he was looking at the first set of cookies you’ve ever baked and you were dying to hear what he thinks of your craft.

“It’s yours?”

You gulp. 

You gulped down the urge to tear up with how much his voice changed. You gulped down the urge to cry because he assumed you had your dream turn into reality too.

“Yeah,” you replied in whisper, your eyes following where he was looking, trying to avoid any chance it will meet his, “it’s not much but —”

“It’s beautiful.” Even before Sae could hear your meek comment of yourself, he cut you off.

You were always like that —downplaying your hard work, belittling yourself even before someone does. He hated that about you. 

He used to get mad at you for it, especially when someone made fun of you at school and you didn’t defend yourself. He always makes you cry whenever he points it out, so he stopped. Instead, he made it his role to rebuild your confidence. Sae wasn't known for being generous in compliments. It would probably take one hand to count all the instances that he genuinely called someone along the lines of not dumb, stupid, lukewarm. 

But it was never the case with you. With you, to say beautiful was always a second nature to Sae's tongue.

And he wasn’t lying though. Your coffee shop was really charmingly cozy, and so like you. It’s so much alike to what you used to tell him how you envisioned it would be. 

The coffee shop was a quaint haven nestled right at the edge of the sandy shore. Its exterior, adorned with weathered wooden panels and soft, warm hues, exuded a rustic charm that welcomed passersby with open arms. Sunlight spilled through large windows, casting gentle rays that danced upon the vintage, mosaic-tiled floor.

It’s beautiful, and it’s in front of our place. He wanted to say to you, but he stopped at beautiful not wanting to make things more awkward than it should.

The coffee shop, it’s right in front of the beach. It’s in front of that one spot you and him used to call ours. 

It’s the first thing he noticed before coming inside, and it made him wonder whether you knew or he’s the only one who remembers it even now.

Bashful, you uttered a silent thank you to his remark, “What would you like to order?” you followed up, trying to maintain composure despite your heart racing in your chest.

Noticing that he’s been too silent for someone who’s about to order something, you looked up to your menu, and immediately, you understood his silence. If one were to point out, it is too immediate for someone who’s almost strangers to each other.

“We have non-caffeinated drinks too,” you hurriedly said to him, your voice quivering slightly as you tried to break the spell of awkward silence.

He gulps, his eyes locked with yours in a moment that felt like eternity.

He can’t drink coffee, it ruins his body clock, and you knew that. You still know that.

It appears that he's not the only one who remembers, after all.

A thousand emotions danced in his eyes, each one a testament to the love that once blossomed between you. The coffee shop, once a quaint haven, now felt like a crucible of emotions, and the atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, heavy with the weight of what could have been.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you couldn't look away, despite the rush of memories and unspoken words flooding your mind. It was as if time had folded in on itself, and you were once again those young souls who found solace in each other's presence.

But this was different, much more complicated. The past was a turbulent sea, and even though you had both moved on with your lives, there was still a deep, lingering connection that couldn't be severed.

Yet, you knew better than to let those emotions take control. You made a choice, you have to stand by it.

You were no longer the naive teenagers who believed love could conquer all. Reality had taught you both harsh lessons, and the wounds of the past still lingered, threatening to reopen with each stolen glance.

“I’ll have your best seller of it then,” he finally broke the silence, his voice steady despite the tempest inside.

With a nod, you turned to prepare his order, your hands trying to steady themselves. You couldn't help but wonder if he noticed the tremor in your fingers or the way your heart seemed to echo in every beat.

As you handed him his drink, your fingertips brushed lightly against his hand, and for a brief moment, the world stood still.

He took the cup from you, and for a fleeting moment, you both lingered, almost as if neither of you wanted to let go. He could stay in this, playing pretend. Pretend none of it happened, pretend he never left, pretend it worked out in the end.

But he can’t, not when you stepped back first, breaking the contact between you and reminding him of the choice you made.

“Thank you,” he managed to say, his voice softer now, filled with a hint of something even he couldn't quite decipher.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

And just like that, the moment passed, slipping through your fingers like sand. He turned to leave, and you watched him walk away, every step taking him farther from the life you once shared.

Perhaps, in some parallel universe, there existed a version of you who chose differently, who stayed intertwined with him in a tale of love that defied all odds. But here, in this reality, both of you were no longer who you used to be.

In this universe, you're just some two ghosts standing in the place of you and him, haunted by the memories of what once was while trying to remember what it feels to have a heartbeat.

After Sae’s visit yesterday, saying that you weren’t doing fine would be a gross understatement. 

Your emotions were all over the place, and you couldn't seem to find a stable ground for your thoughts. It didn't help when your parents casually mentioned that he was leaving town later today. Apparently, Mrs. Itoshi had a little gossip session with the neighbors, unknowingly revealing a piece of her oldest son's business.

He’s leaving, and that's good—for you and for him.

As you stood behind the counter of the coffee shop, you absentmindedly glanced out the window, your eyes drawn to the beach. The sight of the shore brought back a flood of memories.

Maybe in another life, the two of you could still dance along the sandy shore, playfully splashing water at each other. He would chase after you, catching hold of your waist as he sweeps you off your feet. And perhaps, just perhaps, you would have the chance to embrace him tightly once again, with your arms wrapped around his neck while you share a kiss as greedy and fiery as the sea’s yearning for the moon.

And maybe, in another life, your story wouldn’t end with both of you being strangers who know a little too much about each other.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the tears streaming down your cheeks until Hari whispered, “Y/N... you're crying.”

“Oh, I am,” you admitted, trying to regain your composure.

Your heart lurched as you tried to suppress the tears, but they kept flowing relentlessly. “Hari…” you whispered, shocked by your own emotional outpouring.

Hari's eyes reflected pity as she watched you, her voice soft and understanding. “Go,” she encouraged, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Get your man. I'll take care of everything here.”

The words hit you like a lifeline, a spark of hope igniting within you. You quickly removed your apron and grabbed your keys, determined to catch him before it was too late. 

But before you could dash out, Hari's voice echoed through the shop, loud and clear, “Go! Be happy! And for the love of god, no more sacrifices as a love language!”

With one last glance at her and your coffee shop, you rushed out the door.

The airport seemed like a maze of bustling strangers as you frantically searched for the departure gates. Every passing second felt like an eternity, the fear of missing him consuming you.

Desperation and determination fueled your steps as you approached the flight attendant, your voice trembling, “Flight to Spain — I need to know about the flight to Spain for today.”

The attendant looked at you with sympathy, “I'm sorry, but all flights to Spain have already left. The last one left twenty minutes ago.”

Your heart sank, but you couldn't give up that easily. “Can you check again? Please. I-I need to see him. Please.”

The attendant double-checked, but the outcome remained unchanged. 

Twenty damn minutes. You lost him in just that short amount of time.

Your heart shattered as you realized you had missed your chance. The desperation in your eyes was evident as you felt your world crumbling around you.

In the midst of the bustling airport, you allowed yourself to grieve for what could have been and for the chances you never took.

Six years ago, you were supposed to be here. And maybe if you did, you wouldn't find yourself six years after, wishing you did things differently.

The drive back felt like the longest journey of your life. 

The sinking sun painted the sky with hues of orange and pink as you approached the familiar place. As you got closer, you noticed that the shop was already closed, and you assumed Hari had taken care of everything. 

But what caught you off guard was the sight of Sae standing there, in front of your place, with a suitcase by his side, as if he were meant to be on a flight rather than standing there.

“You're here,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest as you got closer.

“I’m here.”

“Why didn't you leave?” you asked.

Because I’m done convincing myself that I hate you, Sae hesitated to say.  “Why did you go to the airport?” he countered instead, avoiding your question.

Because I’m done telling myself that I did the right thing. 

There were so many things you wanted to say, but the words were caught in your throat. You bit your lip, not ready to answer his question just yet.

Impatient and desperate, Sae took his chances to ask you the only question that mattered to him at this point, “Tell me you don't love me anymore. I will go. I will do as you please. I just need to hear it from you.”

Your eyes widened at his sudden question, but Sae wasn’t done yet. “Answer me. It’s a yes or no question.”

Lost in a whirlwind of emotions, you couldn't hold back the torrent of words that poured from your heart.

“A yes or no question, you say? Every night, I think of you.”

With each word, your voice wavered, and you couldn't help but express the worries that had plagued you during his absence.

“Were you eating properly? Does the food there suit your liking? You’re a bit picky. Is it too hot there? Were you taking your supplements? Were you being hard on yourself again? Is... is there someone new? There must be, right?”

As the words left your lips, you realized just how much you had been consumed by thoughts of him, wondering about every aspect of his life, even when he was miles away from you.

His reaction to you holding forth seemed to intensify at your last question, but right now, you weren’t ready to listen to him. He needs to listen to you.

“Every single night of the past six years, I yearned for you. I yearned to have you close. I yearned to hold your face just once more. And fuck, I would’ve traded all my tomorrows for just one yesterday with you.”

With those words, the floodgates of emotion burst open, and tears streamed down your cheeks. 

Fuck, six years. For six years, you held on and held out. Would it have been easier if both of you had tried, and along the way, lost? Would it have alleviated the pain of what-ifs and what could have been's if you had bargained, if you had gambled? Or would it all have led you right back to this moment, grappling with the same heartache and uncertainty?

Finally, meeting his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own emotions in his. But you weren’t done yet.

“And you dare ask me if I love you. Well, does that answer your fucking question, Itoshi?”

“Then, don’t cross it out. Don’t ever cross it out again.”

Cross what…out?

“I saw your letter,” Sae admitted, causing a momentary confusion to wash over you. 

My letter… Bewildered, you couldn't form the right words, and he took it as a sign to continue, and to close the distance between you to hold your hands.

“Tell me, how could I leave after reading that, knowing the only soul who truly knew me was here? You own me, Y/N.”

“I told you countless times before, you own me,” Sae reaffirmed, his grip on your hand tightening as he drew it closer to his lips, planting tender kisses upon your skin. 

“There was no one,” he continued, his words carrying a sense of reassurance. “And there's no other warmth comparable to yours that I'd ever let myself bask in. And if there's any, I'd be only fooling myself, pretending it was you instead.”

Sae's voice grew softer, yet resolute. “You own me, even when I'm on the other side of the world. You own me, Y/N. Even in the distance that separated us, even in the years that you claim I'm not."

He stepped closer, his eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. “No place can ever own me as much as you do. So, don't ever cross your I love you's to me. I want them – all. I don't want your sorry's.”

“But I’m sorry,” you whispered, for the last time. But Sae gently wiped away your tears.

“It's ‘I love you’ from now on.”

For a moment, you both stayed like that, trying to make up for the lost time. Sae, much like you, dreamed of the day he gets to hold you close once again. He dreamed of a day he gets to watch the sunset from the reflection of your eyes again.

Sae could go on and on listing a hundred more reasons why he shouldn't be standing here, and yet he knew, only one of it was true – and that he hated himself for convincing himself that he shouldn't be here – to you, in his hometown.

Sae may have vowed to never come back to this place, but it was always a lie, because for all he knew, it's the only place he truly belonged. Half of his heart was left here, with you.

“Come on,” Sae said, and you followed him, curiosity in your eyes.

“Where are we going?”

“There,” Sae pointed to the beach, your spot, specifically. “To our place. The sky looks pretty, and I want it to know about us, again.”

“Us... again?” you asked hesitantly.

“If you would take me back.” Sae answered, a hint of fear in his eyes, afraid that he might be assuming this second chance for the two of you.

You took his hand in response, and squeezed it three times. “I want nothing more than to be with you, again.”

Without any more words, Sae gently cupped your cheeks, his touch sending shivers down your spine. The touch of his fingers was both familiar and new.

In the fading light of the day, his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The anticipation hung heavy in the air as you leaned closer to each other, your breath hitched as his warm breath mingled with yours.

His lips were soft against yours, and as they moved with a tenderness that mirrored the way he held you, it was as if he was trying to convey everything he had ever wanted to say to you in that one, passionate moment.

The kiss deepened, and you could feel the intensity of his emotions pouring into it. It was a kiss that spoke of all the words left unsaid, of all the nights spent missing each other, and of all the dreams of a future together.

Feeling the tears streaming down your cheeks, Sae pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. And in that moment, he knew that he was exactly where he was meant to be – here.

To you, in his hometown. 

💭 thank you for the request saetorinrin! (i owe you a lot for your patience i guess..)

note. hi. if you’ve been here before, you might know that i hate this trope with a burning passion, i just can’t write it for the life of me. i started this in may (and only had the guts to finish it this month lmao), i was so tempted to delete everything and start from scratch (for the nth time) but i think i owe it to myself to retain most of what i wrote when i was stranded on an island xd this isn’t my best, that, i know for sure. but i hope you’ll still like it ! 

💌 if you reached this part, and you want to know about reader’s letter that sae’s was referencing, here it is. you may or may not read this, it won’t really matter. but if you want to, click until the end :>

💭 back to: milestone event

#☁️ my ode to you #first milestone event! #writing: 003 #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #itoshi sae fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #itoshi sae angst #blue lock angst

[mae-falling-in-may]

My Little Flower | The Darkling x Fem!Reader

I wrote this just after finishing the season 2 of Shadow And Bone, it broke me so like it's a bit of a comfort fic I guess ? Just the way Aleksander was possessive of Alina made me feel things and I'm sorry about this... just a few heads up, I'm no Alina hater (I love her) I just needed to add a bit of tension in this, and also this is the first time I fully write smut AND that I post it on the internet. I'm very self conscious about smut because huh, I'm not the best writer in the world and english is not my first language. I still do hope you'll like it, I had fun writing it !!

Pairing : The Darkling x Fem!Reader

Warnings : very light spoilers, SMUT, jealous reader, kinda possessive!dark!aleksander ? established relationship, claiming, oral sex (f receiving) unprotected sex (protect urselves pls), p in v sex, dom/sub dynamics, creampie, 18+ only MINORS DNI!!!

Summary : Aleksander comes back from the dead, you feel your heart drop when you see him, darker than ever, the scars on his face making you feel weak. He's determined to get the sun summoner, and you're scared that he's drifting from you, but he will show you who you belong to.

Words : 3k

He came back. The one who held you with just one finger, the one who could get you on your knees just with one word. General Kirigan, your General. Hearing what happened in the Fold with the sun summoner and him, broke you. Hell, you didn't know if what happened between you two meant something to him, but you would do anything to make him feel at least something.

My little flower he called you, away from all curious glances. That was the nickname he gave to you, and you held it. You answered it, maybe he called you to have you by his side forever, only for his plans, maybe it was just all an act, but heck, you fell deeply. You fell so deep that nothing would ever make you betray him. You wanted to be with him until you'll be killed in the field, or even just died at his own hands. Whether it was love or a crazy obsession, seeing him alive made your heart much lighter than it was before. You clenched your fists, dangerously planting your nails in your own flesh to keep you from running to him.

His silhouette, his voice, his dark gaze, and his newfound scars, everything about him made your breath hitch. All you could think of right now while he was walking towards other grishas and you, were absolutely disgusting thoughts about how you would go under him to help him relieve himself. You unconsciously held your breath while he was walking towards you. He approached dangerously, all of your body was calling you to be at his service. You gasped for air when he spoke to you.

"My little flower." He whispered, really close to your face so no one could hear him talk. "I'm glad that my most precious Grisha is here." 

You didn't manage to form a proper sentence, you were just stuttering words, and Aleksander saw how you were so emotional. You could only whisper the words: "You're alive.", before bursting into tears. He gently took you into his arms and shushed you.

"It's okay, little flower. I am back, and I'll need you more than anything for what we'll accomplish. Come and join me after dinner please ?" You could only nod while letting your tears drop freely.

~

"I need the Little Saint, you need to locate her, quickly, I want every information you have on her or anyone who's with her, you hear me ?" The tension in the room was heavy, all you could do with your fellow Grishas was to answer "Yes, General." You all waited for him to dismiss every one of you, and with a flick of his hands, he did. They left the room, as you stayed and waited for anything that he could ask you to do. Anything. You heard him shift into his armchair, and when you let yourself stare at him, your mind raced.

She was the one that caused all of this, seeing your General in this state made your heart clench. If only she listened to him, or you had been her, your General wouldn't be suffering like that. A deep cough startled you and your gaze got on Aleksander again, he was sick. You rushed towards him, obviously worried. You kneeled before him, putting a hand on his back and the other one on his knee.

"My General, are you unwell? What happened there ?" The shakiness of your voice betrayed you. 

"Flower." He whispered. "I… It's my new power. The nichevo'ya, they're shadow creatures. They defend me when I'm in danger." He locked his eyes into yours, dark and full of fatigue. You felt him drifting off from you. An explosive wave of emotions passed through you when he looked at you. Was it worry? Hatred for the Sun Summoner? Jealousy? Or just everything that you felt for the General was crashing down deep into your being. You gulped, your mind going from one worry to another, then you asked him quietly.

"Is there anything I can do, my General ?" He lowered his head and waited a bit before answering. "I fear that I do not have a solution for my state right now, flower. I just need… The Sun Summoner, Alina…" He stopped himself, what for? You didn't know, but everything collapsed around you. He didn't need you, the nickname he gave you meant nothing. All you could do was make him feel a bit better about this. You'll bring him back Alina, you swore on your life that you'll do anything for him right? Then you'll do it, even though it will hurt more than you admitted. 

You stood up, he looked at you, confusion and worry in his eyes. You tried to compose yourself and explained.

"I swore on my life that I'll do anything for you, General, if you want the Sun Summoner, I'll bring her back to you, even if I have to die trying to." You waited for an answer, an approval, anything, he stayed silent. You finally turned to leave the room, the sound of your steps resonating on the walls. You didn't want to leave, you wanted to stay, but hell seeing him like that hurt. You were about to open the door and leave when he stopped you with his voice.

"Flower. Please." You heard him stand up, and slow steps coming towards you. "You're the only one that can help me right now. Are you rejecting me? Your General ?" You felt tears building up again, you didn't know how you could tell him how you feel, having him obsessing over his Little Saint was so painful. But did you really have your right to speak up about it? You were just a Grisha, like any other Grisha here, you weren't her, yet you wanted to be her. You faced him back, letting your tears drop freely over your cheeks.

"How could I reject you when I'm not even yours, General? I know you need her, and I know I'll never be her, I've accepted it. Let me accomplish this for you, my General." You sounded hurt, exhausted, and deeply in love. He was dangerously approaching you by now, and for the first time in months, or hell maybe even years, he spoke your name. Not calling you Flower, like he loved to, just your name. He whispered it, and it felt so good on his lips. He cupped your face with his hand softly making you look at him, he seemed hurt.

"You don't understand. Yes, she is the Sun Summoner, and yes, I need her for every reason I already told you. But, what she is not, and will never be, is my precious little Flower. And you know who this is right? You, you belong to me, and I belong to you. I'll never deny that I wished you were the Sun Summoner, so we could accomplish everything together." Even with this, you couldn't believe him, your mind repeated to you that you meant nothing to him and that you weren't her. Even with his hand on your cheek, you couldn't let yourself breathe for him.

"Please, General, don't make me hope for something that I'm unworthy of." Something seemed to snap inside him when he heard the word "unworthy". He abruptly put his arm around your waist and pushed your body towards him with his hand on your back. The hurt gaze he wore before turned into something different, into something frightening.

"Do not use this word to qualify yourself, my flower. You are way more than that. You're my most precious Grisha, my most precious ally, and my dear, dear, friend." His words were spilled like tasty poison, so dangerous but yet, so good. You couldn't help but whimper under his touch. You knew how Aleksander could be possessive, but you simply refused to let yourself believe you were in his catalog. 

Hearing you whimper satisfied him, he let a small smile creep on his face, and he slowly buried his face into your neck. "If you don't believe my words maybe I'll need to show you who you belong to, flower." He kissed your neck, making a path towards your jaw, then your lips. He made sure to dry your tears before kissing you, you sighed into him, your arms making their way to his shoulders. You felt helpless whenever he touched you like this, thinking of nothing more but to please him right now, in this room.

He broke the kiss that left you both breathless, he took a moment to look at you, your eyes, your face, lips, jaw, and neck, and he felt you burning for him. He loves the hold that he had on you. "To bed, without your clothes, please." Even if he would love ripping out your kefta from your body, to expose all of yourself to him, he couldn't, he already had to deal with the million layers of his outfit. So he just followed you to the bed, while you were removing your boots, then your kefta, and then everything that went under it. He was getting rid of his clothing too, but getting distracted by how beautiful you looked for him, his hands stopped doing what he originally wanted to do, and your voice interrupted the silence.

"Do you need help, General ?" You were almost fully naked in front of him, a wave of arousal went through his body, making wearing pants uncomfortable. He nodded at you first, then when you were getting rid of his first few layers of clothes he spoke again.

"Please flower, tonight, only call me by my name. Can you do that ?" You eagerly nodded while you were getting rid of his final upper layer, revealing his scarred torso to you. You let your fingers trail on some of them, wanting to kiss every bit of scars he had on his body. He smiled, loving your admiration and worship, he missed it. He took your wrists in his hand and smiled down at you. 

"I know how much you love to worship me, flower, but not yet, you'll do it when I pump my cock deep inside of you. Right now I want to have you at my mercy and show you who this beautiful body belongs to. You hear me ?" You nodded, unable to form more than one word because of his power over you.

"Words, flower." He removed the last bit of clothes that kept you from being naked, exposing you to him. You stuttered "Yes, I understand Aleksander.", that seemed to please him a lot. He pushed you onto the bed, making his way on top of you. He still had his pants on, enjoying the friction of the fabric when his cock was getting bigger with arousal.

"This time it will be me who worships you. I'm going to taste you and make you scream." You whimpered, while he was kissing your neck, making his way painfully slowly toward your breasts. He kissed them softly before trailing down to your stomach, then your hips. He guided you to open your legs for him and found his hands gripping the back of your thighs. He kissed the inside of your thigh before finally making his way to your perfect already wet cunt. You were this wet since the intense kiss you shared earlier, and the more you felt his touch, the more you would be needy for him. 

He first lapped your pussy, to take a taste out of it, then completely buried his face into it. You weren't ready, it's been so long since you felt any kind of pleasure down there, you gasped and moaned, already on the verge of screaming. And he was just getting started? You knew you were about to break under him. The obscene noises of him tasting all of you made your head spin. He was eating you out like he wouldn't be able to do it after. The tip of his nose was making friction with your clit, and his tongue inside of you. He groaned under you, you were delicious, and he would not get over how delicious you tasted. 

Your moans and the noises he made by tasting you filled the entire room. He was almost tongue-fucking you as you felt your release build-up. You struggled to align proper sentences, just letting out the same words, "Saints, please, Aleksander". He loved how his name sounded on your lips when you were about to come for him, but he would be sure to make you scream it. 

"I'm going to make you cum for me, flower. I want you to scream my name when you do. I don't care if anyone hears, they'll just know who you belong to. You're mine, flower."

He then sucked on your clit and took two fingers to pump them inside of you. You screamed at the newfound sensation of his fingers, and your back arched while you were begging for a release. You were so desperate for him and it made his cock ache under the layer of his pants. He wanted to stop right here and bury himself inside of you just to feel you come around him. He sucked your clit even harder and teased your folds with his fingers. His other hand squeezed your thigh as he felt you crumble under his touch. He knew you were close, you were already losing your mind, and the moans you let out were incoherent at this point. 

“I know you’re close, flower, cum for me.” You screamed his name while hanging onto the bed sheets. The heat of your orgasm flew all over your body, your back arched and your legs were trembling. The delicious feeling of your release was overwhelming, you soaked Aleksander’s face. He pulled out his fingers slowly and kissed one last time your clit, then your cunt. He straightened up so you could see his face better, his hair was a mess and he was panting. He crushed his lips onto yours hungrily, making you taste the mix of your juices and his spit. You moaned against him, your hands finding their way to his groin. You stroked the length of his cock through the fabric. You wished he was fully naked right now, so you could feel him completely. He hummed into your lips and helped you get rid of his pants.

He broke the kiss to fully remove his clothes, which was a relief to both of you. He felt uncomfortable with the hard-on he had since he had first kissed you. And you, you wanted to please him, to have the taste of his cock on your tongue, to suck him so good so he could not think about anything else but you. But you knew it wasn't part of the plan today. You saw his cock already so hard and ready to be buried inside you. You bit your lip at the thought of it, you haven't had anyone since he left for the Fold with Alina, and god you missed him.

He went back once he was fully naked to kiss the corner of your lips. "I know what's on your mind, flower. You missed me, haven't you ?" He continued to kiss your cheek, your jaw, and your neck while placing himself between your legs. You felt him lightly stroke the tip of his cock on the opening of your pussy which made you moan. "Oh, Saints, yes I've missed you Aleksander." You felt him smile on your neck while caressing your body until his hands found your hips. He faced you once again and looked at you fondly with his dark eyes. 

He licked his lips, seeing you desperate for him, he knew you were about to beg for him to fuck you. He didn't even wait for you to say a word that he pumped into you. The feeling and the heat of his cock were oddly overwhelming, and you felt you could cum right here. "I'm gonna fuck you so good, my flower." You couldn't help but moan a please, to indicate that you needed him to move. He smiled and started to thrust into you painfully slowly. 

The rhythm he gave was making you feel every inch of his heat inside of you, you were almost trembling. But you wanted more, you begged once again and put your arms around his shoulders. "Please, Aleksander, I need more." Hearing his name falling through your lips while you were begging felt so good. He let out a curse and started to move into you harder and faster. Both of you loved being in each other's arms so you were on the verge of losing your minds.

The room was filled with your moans, the sound of both your skin slapping on each other, Aleksander's light panting while he was thrusting into you, and the obscene wet sounds of his cock going in and out of your soaked cunt. You wanted this moment to last forever, to have Aleksander all for yourself. The sound he made while fucking you was pushing you closer and closer to your release, and he felt it too. "Flower come on my cock with me please ?" You could only nod, overwhelmed by these sensations.

"I want to fill you up, love, can I ?" It was the first time he called you that, you couldn't even process the name you just wanted the both of you to cum. You almost screamed "Yes, please Aleksander.", you were so loud for him, so good to him, you'd never let him go. 

The wave of your orgasm reached you when his thrusts became erratic. Your cunt clenched around him as he finally got the release you seek. You felt his hot seed splashing into you, while he reached to kiss you again while filling you completely. You moaned against his mouth, enjoying everything he gave you. 

"You're mine, my little flower, mine only."

#shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #reader insert #the darkling x reader #the darkling #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #aleksander kirigan #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #the darkling smut #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes

[damn-stark]

Chapter 11 Some sunny day

Chapter 11 of Sandstorm

A/N- Hope everyone likes it!!

Warning- Y/N has a son, swearing, fluff, incest, violence, ANGST, death, talks of pregnancy and THERES ALSO CHANGES THAT DRIFT AWAY FROM THE SHOW

Pairing- Jon Snow x Targaryen!fem-reader

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*KINGS LANDING. A COUPLE WEEKS LATER*

There’s no one now; it's quiet inside, and even out in the city.

She has no one now, not even the people; they don’t walk the streets with the debris still covering the streets. It’s like an abandoned city with Drogon keeping watch. Albeit she liked to think it’s peaceful. That people were quiet because they were at peace with what she did for them, after all they had nothing to fear anymore.

However, her own peace is disturbed by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she lets them know and keeps her eyes on the ocean past the city.

The door opens and footsteps walk in, but stop past the door. “My Queen,” she recognizes GreyWorm. “I’ve brought your envoys.”

Daenerys turns to face him and furrows her eyebrows a bit out of curiosity. “Read them to me.” After all she trusted no one else except him now that she locked Tyrion away.

Greyworm clears his throat and without needing to look at the paper he shares the first one. “A Raven came from Meereen, Daario Nahris received the envoy and is now on his way with the Second Sons.”

Daenerys' lips lift to a faint smirk, but all she offers is a nod in comprehension to let him share the next one.

“The next Raven came from the North, Princess Y/N Targaryen has arrived at Winterfell with the entirety of the Dornish army, and she wants to debate peace.”

Daenerys' smile fades, and she finally breaks away from her spot on the balcony to be basked by the darkness that her room is covered in.

“Peace,” Daenerys repeats in a low voice as she brushes her fingers across the wooden desk in her room. “After what she did?” She averts her gaze as she’s filled with the memory of you stopping her as she was raining down fire on the city, she remembers the attacks after, she remembers most of all your smile; your laugh, and all the ways you would make her smile. She remembers all the sweet things, all the comforting hugs, all the family dinners. She remembers being welcomed by you and Rhaenar, she remembers finally being at peace with you, her niece, family.

But with all those nice things she’s also plagued with all the crude things too, most of all she remembers your marriage and the babies you are meant to have, unless…

“Any news on the babies?” Daenerys breaks her silence.

“No, I’m sorry my Queen. All I read is that the Princess has been put on bedrest for some time.” Greyworm breaks the news, making her fall silent again.

If those babies are gone then their can be a chance to salvage what broke between you and her. Albeit there is one factor that can make it worse again, Jon Snow. As long as he’s alive he can produce more heirs….

“Alright,” Daenerys interjects and clasps her hands together. “Tell my niece…” she trails off and meets the man’s gaze. “What is it they’re calling her again?”

“The rising Saint,” he shares.

Daenerys scoffs. “Ah yes, well tell her I agree. Let’s debate peace.”

——

*WINTERFELL*

“He’s gotten bigger hasn't he mother?”

You glance at the orange dragon ascending off the window and smile faintly. “Yes, he has. Perhaps it’s all that food he eats, hm?” You suggest and bounce your eyebrows.

Rhaenar scoffs and peers back over his shoulder. “I cannot stop him from feeding himself now.”

“No,” you agree. “But you can make sure he is feeding on the right things, right?

Rhaenar returns to watch his dragon fly around the room and then interjects. “Yes, of course. Just as you said with Eraxis.” Rather than coming back to his seat by the bed you’re basically tied down to, he wanders off to the table holding the dragon chambers.

When you had first reunited with your son he had shown you the dragon eggs he risked his life to take, the way he got them exactly is a bit hazy considering he was rambling out of fear of what had happened, but he managed to take the dragon eggs from Dragonstone. Just adding more fuel to Daenerys' anger most likely.

“Why don’t you finish reading the book?” You suggest and reach over to the edge of your bed to drag the big thick book towards you.

Rhaenar opens the lid of the blue dragon egg and waits for the steam to clear before he begins to admire it. He’s bored, but he has refused to leave your side since you got here.

“Rhaenar,” you call out.

Yet before he can turn a knock raps on the door, making both of your heads turn.

“Come in,” you say, and right away the door opens and the first person you see is Sarelle, she meets your gaze and shoots you an apologetic look as she walks in. And once you see Jon, Sansa and the other Stark’s, Ser Jaime, and the other lords you know why.

“Princess,” Sansa greets, whilst the others bow their heads.

You sigh and know this won’t be short or pleasant for you so you then look to your son.

“Rhaenar,” you call, “why don’t you go find your aunt make sure she isn’t getting into any trouble.”

Said boy looks around at the crowd that’s forced to meet in your chambers and hesitates because he wants to be a part of this meeting. But you shoot him a pointed look so he covers the chamber backup and waits for Helios to perch back on his shoulder before he leaves. Once the door is closed you face the group gathered around and smile before addressing them.

“How pleasant it is to see all of you.” You clasps your hands over your lap whilst you catch Jon walk over to stand by your bedside. “Have we received word from Daenerys yet?”

The maester shakes his head. “Not yet, Princess.”

You let out a deep breath and nod in comprehension and then glance around all of them with a tightlipped smile. “So who will start first?”

They all look around at each other to wait who would actually step up, everyone with their mouths basically bleeding as they bite their tongue. So as to relieve them of their pain you choose for them and go for who you might have the easiest problem to help with.

“Ser Jaime,” you point out and land your eyes on him. “You’re still here, which as honored as I am, I’m actually quite surprised, I thought you’d be half a world away.”

The knight takes a step forward and meets your gaze to respond. “Well, I probably should be, but well I’m having a hard time saying goodbye. And two, well,” he sighs. “As you may know my brother was imprisoned by the Dragon Queen. I can’t leave without him, nor let him stay there because I know he’d do everything in his power to get me.”

You hum and squint your gaze on him, letting him continue to actually share what he needed to.

“I wanted help to retrieve my brother from the Dragon Queen’s clutches.”

“The Princess cant travel, Ser,” Sansa rebuttals. “Not for some time.”

You swallow thickly and lower your gaze out of shame that you can’t be doing more. And unberthknonwst to you Jon notices your reaction, the feelings that are spread on your face and reaches down to caress your shoulder.

“Yes,” Jaime cuts her off. “But I’m not asking her to come with me. I was hoping I could get some men to help me.”

At the sound of those words you look up at Jon to share a knowing look.

“…I know my way around the castle. I can’t guarantee it will be easy, but I need to get my brother out of there,” Jaime shares his desire, his reason to join everyone in this meeting.

Yet it’s a desire you can’t grant for many reasons. “Ser Jaime,” you interject and let out a deep breath. “As grateful as I am for what you've done, for keeping your promise to me. I cannot give you what you want because unlike you, your brother stayed loyal to his Queen until the end. He did nothing to earn the peoples trust or respect, not like you.” You let him down with an apologetic look. “I am terribly sorry. Truly. All I can grant you is luck and supplies if that’s what you need, but as to the other thing, you may ask yourself for volunteers.”

Jaime averts his gaze and scoffs. “Regardless of what I’ve done, people rather see me die than help.”

“Yes,” Sarella agrees with him. “That much is true.”

You shoot her a pointed glare, and she just shoots him a teasing smirk.

“Well,” you sigh and then flicker your eyes to the Stark sisters. “What are some other concerns?”

Sansa steps forward and shares. “There are some questions as to when you will execute Cersei?”

You hum and share a glance with Jon.

“I think it’s been prolonged long enough,” she adds.

You draw out a deep breath and nod slower before you respond with what you have in mind. “I’m waiting to execute to her.”

Sansa blinks in disbelief and shoots Jon a puzzled look that Jon doesn’t share since it’s something you haven’t told him yet either.

“For what?” Arya cuts in, causing you to drift your eyes to her and see her step forward—“killing her will turn those who still doubt you to your cause.”

“Arya is right,” Sansa agrees. “It’s a first step to completely sparking this war to life.” She argues.

Gods they’re really not going to like this…

“I’m not fighting a war,” you reveal and immediately see all their faces drop. “I’m not sparking anything. Daenerys will want to kill Cersei herself to gain the people’s love, I will let her do it once I get word.” You share a quick glance with Jon before looking at your cousin at his side.

She catches your gaze and gives you an assuring nod that lets you know she trusts you completely.

“You added fuel to that war the moment Daenerys countered your attempts to help save the people,” Sansa argues back with fury. “She almost killed you rather than standing down—”

“She killed thousands of people, your people after the bells rang,” Arya spats back too. “You might’ve not seen the tragedy below but you heard it, you stopped it from furthering. She took that first step against you, against our family, we have to counter and take her off that throne before she chooses to destroy everything and everyone.”

You remain calm even if you want to respond with annoyance to their persistence. “Daenerys lost everyone she knew. Missandei, Visieron, even Rhaegal since he bonded with Jon. Ser Jorah. She let her anger drive her, I can help her. She needs guidance I can provide.”

Sansa scoffs, but Lord Royce interjects instead. “Pardon me my Princess, but there is no saving the Dragon Queen after she attacked her own kin. The people of King's Landing may be horrible—”

Jaime scoffs in agreement at that.

“…but they honor that. You turn and help her then you lose everyone, everything you worked to gain.” He finishes.

As wise as his words are, you remain stubborn. You shake your head and stand your ground. “I will not ignite a war.” You snap back with narrowed glare. “If it’s a war you all want then go ahead, but you will not count on me, Dorne,” you say and gain Sarella’s approval with a nod. “Or my dragon.”

All the people in the room go quiet, they share speechless and upset glances. It seems like neither will talk back, but Sansa does fight back with an icy spirit. “She didn’t only attack you, she attacked your family, the babies, she disregarded all respect she said she had. She chose power rather than standing down to her own kin! She attacked your people! She would’ve killed your son, and you! Given the chance. Will you sit and do nothing! That is your throne, your crown!”

You clench your jaw and narrow your glare deeper. Sansa holds your glare without falter, so you sit up. Jon tries to help you, but you put your hand out to stop him and sit up on your bed yourself to give Sansa what she wants, a fight back.

“Some of us didn't get the pleasure of growing up with our parents. I don’t have the memories of my mother braiding my hair, or giving me warning looks to stop something I’m doing. I don’t have memories of fighting with my mother or my father over stupid things that don’t matter at the end of the day. You know why, you all know why!” You huff out. “I have been fighting a war since my mother and siblings died—no since my father left us….so I’m sorry that all I want now is for my children to grow up with their parents, both of them.” You draw in a deep shaky breath, then breathe out as you drop your head to look at your hands.

You then look over at Jon, and he offers you an assuring look that lets you add on, calmer this time. “Fighting in a war brings no guarantee to Jon’s safety, or mine. I understand everyone’s distrust for Daenerys, but she is Queen now as long as she sits on that Throne, as long as her heart beats. I’m not asking to return to her court, all I want is a pardon so I can just raise my children and live my life with my husband. I’ve lost too much, we all have, I’m not letting her take anything else.”

This time no one argues back, no one steps forward, there’s no passed glances, it’s still, letting you turn to Jaime again.

“If Daenerys grants us the ability to negotiate I can add your brother to the deal. That way you don’t need to risk your life.” You offer him a gentle smile. “Just rest assured, she probably won’t kill him right away, he is still a Lannister, and he might be her chance to get the Westlands to support her.”

Ser Jaime nods hesitantly. “You might be right. I’ll wait then.” He bows his head, letting you look at the others again.

“Now, if there’s nothing more to add, I would like to have a moment with my husband.” You add, causing everyone to leave the room, even your cousin, leaving just Jon and you in the silence of your shared quarters.

Jon breaks away from his spot rather quickly, and you drop your shoulders and draw out a deep exhausted breath. “Ugh,” you groan, “how do Lords and Kings do this all day?” You watch Jon take his cloak off to release weight off his body so he can find some ease in private.

“Well,” he scoffs. “Some Kings don’t actually handle any business.”

You snicker and nod. “I guess you’re right. Did your father handle his business?”

Jon walks over to the table by the window to serve water in a golden cup. “Yes, he did. I wasn’t with him a lot, but when I was he always looked tired, but that’s nothing compared to you,” he points out and turns to walk over to your side of the bed. “Being with child and doing all of this is impressive.” He hands you the cup before he presses his hand on your swollen belly.

You hum softly and watch him with a soft look. “Thank you for coming to me. I mean I could go without going to meetings and handling any business, but thank you for not forgetting about me.”

Jon straightens up and grabs your hand. “You are my wife, we’re partners in this. Besides…you are the princess which does make you higher ranked. It is your duty.”

You shoot him a narrowed glare, and he just smirks before he presses a kiss on your cheek to then press a kiss on your belly.

“How are you feeling? Do you need to sit up more? Or more pillows?” He worries.

You take a sip of water and look out the window. “I could use a walk,” you mumble and set the cup down on the end table beside you whilst you hope to catch a glimpse of Eraxis outside in the skies you wish you can be in, but there’s only blank white skies.

Jon scoffs at your response and follows your line of gaze, when you look back at him you see his smile had faded away and his gaze looked distant and brooding; his mind is churning isn’t it?

“What is it?” You query, even though you know it’s about what was just discussed with everyone else. “Do you think we should march into battle for the throne too?”

Jon blinks and meets your gaze to shake his head. “No. You don’t want it, I don’t want it, it would be an unmotivated battle.” He finishes, making you squint your eyes on him. “And like I’ve said before I trust you, if you don’t want to counter back against Daenerys then we don’t—”

“Then?” You cut him off.

Jon shifts around to face you better, and you stay still since you can’t move. “It’s about your decision about Cersei,” he shares. “In other kingdoms it’s different, every family has different values, but…my father always followed one value, ‘The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.’ You gave the sentence, you took her, it should be you.”

You blink repeatedly and drop your gaze to your hands as you take in his words. “What about Daenerys?” You ask softly in an unsure tone of voice.

Jon sighs. “There are no sides to killing the Queen. Besides Daenerys already has the capitol, she already burned the city, killing Cersei won’t gain their respect or their trust.”

He is right….and if his father did say those words then Winterfell respects them too. And the Lannister’s have hurt your family just as they've hurt the Stark’s, it has to be here, because regardless if you want the throne or not, you still are Jon’s wife, you still need their respect. Killing Cersei will gain that.

“Alright,” you give in and meet Jon’s dark gaze. “I’ll do it. On the morrow. After breakfast.”

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Door hinges creak, and what was once covered in darkness is invaded by the swaying torch light in your hand.

“Good morning,” you greet and push your hand further in the small room to try and see the prisoner kept inside, but she’s not on her bed nor by the desk. Actually her plate is untouched, her bed is a mess, the small bookshelf is emptied out of all the books that once decorated it, and the curtains are drawn to cover the windows and bring that lurking darkness.

She’s being difficult, you’ve heard from Sansa that Cersei has protested against eating and kept herself living like a hermit.

Thus why you let out a deep sigh and look back at Jon to pass a quick glance that lets him know to move your moving chair futher in the room. And that’s when you finally see her balled in the corner behind the door, with the books that are meant to decorate the shelf all over the ground.

Cersei doesn’t even bother to look up at you, nor does she move, she keeps her eyes trained on the ground. You don’t bother to say anything else right away either, you’re too taken back by her appearance to speak. After all it’s the first time you’ve seen her with her hair messy and unbrushed, with her face dirty because she’s refused to let anyone touch her, and in dirty clothes she’s refused to take off since she was taken.

“Sansa wanted you to be taken out in drags,” you interject, but still gain nothing. “But I convinced her otherwise.” You throw her a dress you picked out for her own execution. “Be nice to the handmaidens, they are here to make you look presentable. You were a Queen once afterall.” You look her up and down and sigh before Jon begins to pull you out in the wheelchair they’ve forced you to be on so you wouldn’t move so much.

It’s too much for you considering it’s just your upper body that got hurt, but if it makes Jon happy then whatever. You’ll get pushed around until you heal.

However! The one thing that is distasteful and makes this dreadful is the stares. Regardless if they’re out of disbelief over seeing you out. Then again you do always receive weird stares from the people, even if it’s been some time now since you’ve been here.

Yet there is one stare that you’ll never grow tired of, this one isn’t aimed at you but at the majestic dragons that now roam Winterfell. First, the people you pass by as Jon pushes you towards the field past the castle gates spot Helios flying towards you. He’s small but the people fear him now because he can fly on his own.

“Hello, little sun,” you greet the orange dragon as he now begins to fly by you. “Where’s Rhaenar?” You ask it before you look back and spot your boy running over just as you predicted.

“Mother! Jon!” Rhaenar greets.

“Prince,” Jon greets him back with a smile, whilst you watch him as he falls at your other side and grabs onto one of your wheelchairs armrest to walk at your pace. “Where have you been?” Jon asks.

“I was on a tower,” Rhaenar reveals between pants. “There’s people from the nearby towns that are arriving to see the execution.”

You nod. “Cersei Lannister did a lot of harm to the Kingdoms, her family also did a lot of harm to the Starks—”

“Yes,” Rhaenar cuts you off. “I know. People want justice.”

You hum in agreement and glance around in search of your sisters, but they’re not around. “<Where are your aunts?>” You ask in Valyrian so Jon can learn.

Rhaenar glances over at Jon and shoots him a smirk before responding in the same language. “<Waiting with Sansa and Arya already. They said they wanted a good view.>”

You peer over your shoulder and catch Jon’s perplexed look since Rhaenar spoke too fast for him to fully comprehend everything. And yet before either Rhaenar or you could explain anything, a high pitched cry breaks from the sky. You quickly look up and spot white scales gleaming as they descend from the sky slowly; Eraxis. Poor injured Eraxis.

The people around begin to quicken their pace, others scatter to find shelter as if she would attack, but you beam at her as she now chooses to hover above you as best as she can. And then not seconds later a dark shadow casts over the grounds before the green beauty that is Rhaegal quietly flies past.

“I’m thinking we might be the late ones,” Jon comments whilst he watches his dragon land on the field past the gates.

You scoff. “Or everyone else is early.”

Jon chuckles. “Or that.”

You smile faintly, but that slowly fades as you now get rolled past the gate and see the crowd already gathered around the wooden stake that was built just for Cersei.

“Princess.”

“There she is, The Rising Saint…”

As far as alias goes you’ve heard worse, but this name the people are calling you now after the battle at Kingslanding—or as the people are calling it “The dance of the dragons”, is unnecessary. You’re no saint, not close, just because some soldiers saw you push yourself off the shore as Eraxis was extending her wings behind you means nothing at all. In fact you lost that battle.

“Princess.”

You offer the people who part away to make a path for you a small smile.

“Sister!” Elia exclaims when she spots you, and parts away from Jaime’s side to stride over to you. “There you are, I thought you wouldn't come.”

“It's my duty,” you say and glance past her shoulder. “Please don’t tell me you were pestering the poor Knight. Need I remind he's only enough to be your father.”

Elia scoffs. “We were just talking. Nothing bad.” She smirks. “But if he wanted to then…” she trails off and snickers.

“Gods,” you grumble.

“Then what?” Rhaenar presses innocently, only making Elia chuckle and walk off to be by Sarella now—“what does she mean mother? Jon?”

You peer back at Jon to share an awkward look before you meet your son's curious gaze and assure him. “I’ll tell you later, okay? Now is not the right time.”

Rhaenar sighs deeply and nods. “Alright, but you promise? You say that but you forget sometimes.”

You roll your eyes playfully and assure him. “I will. But if I forget remind me. After all, once I’m back in my chambers I have nothing but time,” you complain.

“Well,” Jon cuts in as he now begins to turn you around so can face the stake. “When you finally can be on your feet, don't come complain’ that you want to be in bed all day.”

“I won’t,” you counter knowing well that you’re lying because you will complain.

Jon scoffs softly and leaves at that now that you’ve joined his family, and Jaime’s side.

“Ser Jaime,” you direct at him now as you watch Eraxis circle the area to land beside Rhaegal. “I’m surprised you’re here. I didn’t think you had the stomach to watch this.”

Jaime unfurls a deep sigh from his nose. “I have to be here. It’s my responsibility.”

You hum softly and blink to steal a quick glimpse; noticing his frown he was trying not to show, as well as that somber look that flickered in his colored eyes. You then glance at Sansa to direct your next word to her and notice the opposite, there isn’t a smirk on her lips, but there is a ghost of one playing there on the corner of her lips. Her eyes are shooting off sparks compared to the dull look in Jaime’s.

Then again you can’t blame her excitement.

“Are you ready?” You ask Sansa.

Said girl glances down at you and nods. “More than you know. If only I could be the one to say the words.”

You return your gaze back to your dragon and catch Rhaegal…tending to her? You can’t be sure you’ve never seen it be done, but he was letting her nuzzle against him.

“You can speak,” you tell her.

Sansa holds your gaze and offers you a stiff agreeing nod. And just as she agrees, commotion amongst the crowd begins to rise; demeaning words begin to be shouted, boos are thrown out, and no one leaves space to see but you know that the guards were bringing Cersei out now.

“Can you get me a bit closer,” you tell Jon.

Without hesitation Jon pushes you a bit past the row you were standing in to wait for Cersei there. You then proceed to look back at Rhaenar as the space beside you is empty. You don’t tell him anything but you do motion the spot beside you with the movement of your eyes.

The boy hesitates, he doesn’t want to be so close when the dragons breathe out their fire on Cersei, he’s frightened, but he is a Prince, he needs to witness matters such as these, as distasteful as they may be.

Thus he slowly approaches and stands beside you just as the guards finally push Cersei out of the crowd, and finally take her up to the stake.

Once she’s tied up Sansa walks over to speak. “Cersei Lannister, I’ve been thinking of this since day the moment I knew who you really were, but now that I’m here I can no longer express the pain you and your terrible son put me through.” She exhales and stops in front of the stake to look up to meet Cersei’s burning glare. “I just hope you remember that gods have no mercy.” She lifts her chin and finally that smirk that had been playing on her lips spreads to a malicious one. “I hope you feel every second of your flesh and skin melting upon your bones as the dragons bathe you in their fire.”

Jon steps over to stand by you, and you both now share a quick shocked glance before you now interject. “I wish there can be words I could say, but I can’t muster a single word from my heart that doesn’t just spew with venom. Thus why, I now say this with pride, Queen Cersei Lannister, first of her name, I Princess y/n Targaryen-Martell sentence you to death on the charges of the deaths of Margaery Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, regicide, mass murder, treason, Arson, abuse of power against the crown, Conspiracy and Usurpation. What are your last words?”

Finally Cersei breaks her glare away from you to look at her lover/brother Jaime Lannister. Her look doesn’t change to sadness to plead for her life, she just shoots him the same glare before she then looks upon all the people. “I hope you all burn in all seven hells! I hope Daenerys burns you all to ash! You will all burn!”

The crowd begins to shout and throw stuff at her, so you lift your chin and have Eraxis cut everyone off with a mighty roar. When they all go quiet and back away from the stake, you look back at Sansa.

Now without hesitation her and Arya walk to the stake with lit torches in their hands that they put under the pyre, they then turn and now stand beside you to watch the flames eat away at the wood below the platform.

All that’s left now is you, so without a moment to spare you draw in a small breath, and then exhale. “Dracarys!” You command out.

Rhaegal steps back, and Eraxis pulls her head back before they both breathe in deeply and then open their mouths to breathe out bright, fiery flames that engulf Cersei and the stake she stands against within seconds.

The Queen resists at first, but when her skin and flesh begins to melt she cries out, filling the bitter air with her pained cries one second, and the next…nothing but silence again. Now all that stood was the still lively flames that ate her body and the wood.

“My Princess,” a quiet voice cuts in by your ear. “My Lord. A Raven came from Queen Daenerys.”

You drift your eyes away from the red-orange flames to look at the Maester by your side. “Call for a meeting at the hall then,” you inform him. “I’ll go there now to read what she has to say.”

——

*LATER*

“You ask for forgiveness after the act of betrayal against me, I will give it to you. I hope you, your new family and all the Kingdoms that are loyal to you remember my mercy…

You sigh with relief and keep on reading the words Daenerys had so elegantly written on the paper.

“Come to King’s Landing and bend the knee. Swear fealty to me and your eldest son Prince Rhaenar will still have his title as heir, you will have a place in my court and in my castle. However, know that when you and your husband bend the knee, you cannot pursue your children’s claim for The North, Dorne, or the crown. The Warden or Wardeness of the North will not seek independence. It is then that you will have your peace. And if any other Lords who are at your beck and call won’t bend the knee, then warn them of my wrath that will await them, tell them that you won’t be there to save them after you bend the knee.” You finish reading and slowly lower the paper and lift your gaze to look at the Lords, and Ladies gathered around the table.

And there’s one specific Lady who glares diggers into you.

“You will have your children be cup bearers and hold banners for the rest of your life?” Sansa argues as expected. “Jon you can’t possibly want that?! You cannot bend the knee to her again. She betrayed you, she betrayed her kin. She betrayed her people and all of Westeros.”

You don’t counter, instead you look up at Jon and wait for his response with no glare to threaten him to back you up, with no unspoken words shared between your eyes, you let him speak his mind. And he knows it.

“It’s not ideal? no, but at least I will still have them. Throwing ourselves into a war risks their lives,” Jon counters his sister. “She would kill them if we went against her if it meant she had no competition to her throne. Or she would kill y/n and me,” his voice begins to rise with anger, and his eyes begin to narrow. “And it’s just as y/n said, I want my children to have their parents, I want to watch them grow up, I want to be their father.” He draws out a deep breath and tries to calm down.

“I also will not risk having my own people have their homes and land burnt down, going against Daenerys guarantees a destructive war. I will not see anymore children burnt.” He shakes his head. “I will not see anyone else burnt to ash. I will go to Kings Landing in Princess y/n’s stead.” He looks down at you to meet your gaze, and you immediately offer him a thankful smile.

“Right now the princess can’t travel, so I will go in her place.” He nods and presses his hands against the tabletop to then look back at everyone around the table. “I can’t ask all the other Lords to do the same, if it’s a war you want you are welcome to it, but we can’t give into our pride.” He sighs. “So if it’s alright with the Princess I will travel as soon as on the morrow when the sun rises.” He then looks back at you to seek your permission.

Before you give him your confirmation you look only to one person, Sarella, your sister.

“Dorne will be upset that we won’t go to war,” she says, but we will follow you,” she assures you.

You draw out a small relieved breath and then blink to meet Jon’s waiting gaze. “Go. Bend the knee for us.”

Jon offers you a comprehensive nod, and you smile at him softly whilst you grab his hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

“If it is what you want Princess,” Lord Royce interjects, pulling your attention to him standing beside the table. “I will bend the knee as well.”

“As will the Reach,” a representative for the new Warden of the South adds too.

That’s the South and the East Kingdoms, Dorne will also follow, now all that’s left is Sansa and the North. Knowing that, all eyes fall to Sansa to seek her answer. And she meets Arya’s gaze to share a speechless conversation before her glare turns to pierce into Jon and you.

“If Jon wants then we will follow too.” She says stiffly.

Thank the gods.

“Good,” you breathe out with relief. “Then Jon will travel to Kings Landing at his convenience and bend the knee for me.”

There’s silence, it’s full of tension but everything is dealt with so they can sit in their anger and pride as much as they want.

“Mother,” a young voice cuts in, making you look at Rhaenar standing at your right side. “If it is okay with you may I go with Jon to King's Landing to bend the knee as well?”

He always wants to go to battles, he also wants to be involved and he hardly can. You don’t quite like the idea of him leaving your side with everything so tense, but, well, Daenerys won’t harm him and it might do some good if he goes. She might be less hostile.

“All right,” you agree. “You may go.”

Right away Rhaenar shoots you a proud grin that does make your heart swell.

“Good,” Jon then interjects. “With that resolved. Ser Davos, Rhaenar and a handful of some trusted men, and I will travel to King's Landing on a ship. Going on dragonback will probably just rise tension we want to avoid.”

“Yes,” you agree. “That’s true, good. Now does anyone else have anything to add?” You glance at everyone gathered, and no one thankfully interjects. Now the room is finally dispersed except for Sansa, Jon, rhaenar and you.

“I will ask one more time,” Sansa breaks the silence whilst she walks over to you. “As your goodsister, as your sister…” she pauses and gets close to you to take your hands in hers. “Is this really what you want? She may be the last part of your family you have left, but push that aside for now and tell me if bending the knee is what you want.”

You blink repeatedly as you draw in a deep breath and slide one hand over hers to respond softly. “Pushing that aside doesn’t change my answer if it gives me peace. I don’t care for titles, not anymore. If I could have a piece of land here, beyond the wall, or in Dorne by the glimmering sea where I can watch my children grow, where I can teach them how to further connect with their dragons, where I can fly in the sky and feel the wind in my face, feel the clouds on my fingertips, where I can see Jon drop his shoulders and spread that charming grin of his, then yes,” you nod and smile. “I’ve lost too much, I can’t lose anymore. So yes Sansa I’m sure. I hope you can find that too. And you will on your own time.” You offer her a soft smile and look back at Jon to signal him to roll you back to your quarters since…well this has been a strain filled day.

Thus without adding a word Jon pulls you back, letting you drop Sansa’s hands and face Rhaenar now as he skips over to walk by your side. Once your back is turned to her all you feel is her stare until the door closes behind you.

——

Being vulnerable with Jon was something you could always be. It’s something the both of you never were scared of being. It’s something that not a lot of couples in this world get to be, you count yourself lucky that you can have someone in your life who doesn’t make you keep things in and pile up. You’re lucky to have him.

“I’m scared,” you admit quietly as you trace the long wound on his chest. “I…I can’t trust her. Not anymore.”

Jon sighs. “Nor can I,” he admits as well. “The truth is that we never can, not after what happened.”

You swallow thickly. “But if I can’t trust her then what does that mean for the people that follow us. I…I’m risking their lives aren’t I?”

Jon’s arms wrap tighter around you as he stays quiet for a moment that makes your worry heighten. “I think we shouldn’t truly trust certain people completely, I think always being at least somewhat cautious is okay. Otherwise you’re blinded.”

There’s many examples to contradict his saying, there’s many examples to prove him right, especially when it comes to Kings and Queens. But you want him to be wrong about her badly.

Albeit you know he isn’t wrong.

“I suppose you’re right,” you agree quietly and then carefully push yourself off his chest to face him. “You’re so wise. How did you get to be so?”

He begins to smirk. “Livin’.” He quips.

You snicker and then mock him. “Livin’.”

He playfully rolls his eyes and pulls you back to his chest. “By the time I come back you’ll be bigger.”

You feign a frown. “What do you mean by that?” You mess with him. “Are you calling me—”

“No, you know what I mean, your belly. The babies,” he quickly tries to correct himself, making you burst out laughing.

“I know,” you let him know, causing Jon to scoff and pull his arm off your shoulders. “No,” you whine and nuzzle your head against his neck. “You’ll be gone for 2 or three months because you won’t go on dragonback. Let me bask in your warmth for a while longer.”

You can basically picture his smile as he wraps his arm back around you. “I’ll come back to you as quickly as I can,” he assures you.

You smile softly and press a kiss on his chest. “You better. I can’t part from you for too long. What if someone takes you from me?”

Jon scoffs in amusement. “Who’d do that?”

You shrug. “Sirens out in the depths of the water.”

“Sirens?” He teases.

You nod. “They’re real,” you counter quickly. “They trap pirates and sailors with their hypnotizing song. My uncle said he saw one, and I’ve read all about them.”

“They’re just tales,” Jon says. “They aren’t real.”

You scoff. “Yeah you’d know because you’re such an experienced sailor. Giants are real, why shouldn’t sirens be?”

Jon parts his lips but can’t argue back, so you giggle and grow cocky. “Exactly,” you quip and then lift your head to show him your smile before you lean in and steal a kiss from his pink lips. You feel his faint smile, and his hands on your cheeks. You know he’d flip you around if it wasn’t for your wounds on your shoulder, so instead he leans in and deepens the sweet kiss. He savors your taste to remember what your lips feel like when he misses them out at sea, just as you’ll miss him when you’re laying in bed here watching Eraxis fly by without you riding her.

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips.

Jon’s gaze softens and he caresses your cheek as he says it back. “I love you too. I’ll come back to you, and the baby’s.”

You offer him a sweet smile and press your forehead against his one more time, before you pull away and let him climb off bed before you make him stay. And since you can’t move you have to watch him—which isn’t the problem, you like it, you smile, but you do wish you could move.

Nevertheless, once he is done he presses a kiss on your belly and then steals one last passionate kiss from you.

“I’ll miss you,” you tell him.

Jon's smile turns timid. “I’ll miss you too.”

Before he can pull away from the bed you grab his arm to not let him move. “You take care of Rhaenar, alright? Take care of him.”

Jon holds your gaze and nods. “Of course I will. Don’t worry.”

You sigh with relief and then steal one last kiss before letting him go.

“Take care,” you throw out as he walks away.

“You too!” He shouts back, and with a smirk he adds, “Sansa will keep an eye out. Arya will too.”

You feign a grin since having Arya look out for you is the worst since she’s so sneaky and even more pestering.

“Great,” you mutter, making Jon chuckle whilst he opens the door. And when the door is pushed open he comes to a halt, you think he’s going to come back, but instead he moves to the side and reveals your son.

You beam at him. “I thought you wouldn't come say goodbye.”

Rhaenar runs past Jon to reach your side with his trust worthy companion flying in after him. “I’ve come to say goodbye mother,” he says and grabs your hand since he’s too scared he’ll hurt you with an embrace. “I won’t be gone long but still.”

You caress his chin and shoot him a smile. “No, but when you come back I will change. I’ll be big, I’ll be unrecognizable.”

Rhaenar giggles. “Don’t be silly, mother. You won’t be different at all.”

Your smile softens. “No. You’re right. Now go before I change my mind and make you stay.”

Rhaenar holds your hands for a longer moment, and you caress his cheek once more before you pull your hand away before you actually change your mind. “Be careful alright? When you get to the city, stay with Jon, and don’t wander.” You warn him.

Rhaenar rolls his eyes but can’t help his smile. “Alright. Alright. Goodbye, mother.” He says and begins to step back.

You shoot him a small wave and a soft smile. “Bye my sweet boy. And you,” you point to his orange dragon. “Watch him.”

The dragon blinks and then turns to fly after Rhaenar as he runs out of the room, letting Jon poke his head inside one last time. “Bye, my love,” Jon says to you once more.

You shoot him a smirk and wave. “Bye, my love.” You watch him close the door and leave the room lonely now. You sit still and hold your breath to listen to their receding footsteps until you can’t hear the echo of the faint thumps.

However, as you breathe out and sink lower down in your bed to try and sleep some more, the sound flapping wings fills the room. When you look out the balcony door you see half of Eraxis’s face, you spot her bright blazing brown eye, and her beautiful snout gleaming by the light beams breaking out of the sky.

She whines softly as she senses the sadness in your heart after seeing your son and your husband leave.

“Yes,” you tell her. “I do have you. But,” you sigh. “I want you to do something for me. Take Rhaegal and follow them.” You give her a command. “Be discreet as you usually are. And only show yourself if they are in danger. Watch them from the skies, okay my sweet girl?”

Eraxis watches you for a second before she blinks and flaps her wings to ascend to the sky. Due to how this room is facing you don’t see her get lost in the clouds, you just hear her wings flapping in the distance until there’s only silence.

——

*2 WEEKS LATER. RHAENAR.*

“Tell me again what this does,” the old Onion Knight points to a part of the boat.

Rhaenar stares long and hard, jumbles of words come to mind, but he can’t place a name to the specific part. “I…I don’t know, sorry.”

Ser Davos sighs and then opens his mouth to reveal the name, but Rhaenar cuts him off.

“Why is it that I have to learn these things? Once I’m King, Helios will be big enough to ride, I won’t need to sail a boat.”

Ser Davos scoffs and turns with his hands clasped behind him. “That’s what you think, but a good King must know many things. What if your dragon dies and you’re at war? One that requires the use of your fleet? Hm? People respect a leader if they see you putting your life on the line amongst them.”

Rhaenar lips pulls to a faint smile and his gaze travels to Jon across the deck talking to some men. “Like how the Free Folk admire Jon?”

Ser Davos glances at Jon as well and nods. “Aye. Like him. Would you want to be like Jon or like the boy King Joffrey?”

Rhaenar scoffs. “Like Jon of course.”

Ser Davos hums and nods. “Aye so lets go over the stuff again and then you can go off and read your books.”

Rhaenar skips off to a part of the boat he does remember and wants to name a part he does know to make Ser Davos proud, but then the sound of man shouting out from the look out above cuts him off.

“Danger ahead! Unmarked ship incoming!”

Rhaenar snaps his head to the front and sees a large approaching ship the distance. It has no House flag, actually it has no flags at all, it’s unmarked, and now that Ser Davos has taught him stuff about ships, pirates and sailors, he knows that this boat isn’t friendly.

Yet he doesn’t want to back down and hide.

“How can I help?” He asks and feels Helios perch up on his shoulder.

Ser Davos quickly meets his gaze and shakes his head. “No you may not help at this moment. Guards take the young Prince to his cabin and guard him with your lives.”

Rhaenar’s guards agree and march to him, albeit the boy pulls away and looks out for Jon. “Jon! I want to help!”

Said man snaps his head to the boy from where he stands on deck, and then rushes over to him. “Rhaenar you will stay in your cabin until we’ve resolved this alright? With luck we will just pay or trade what we have and move on, but regardless you go to your cabin, be ready for anything and don’t come out unless there’s imminent danger or until I go fetch you, you heard me?”

Rhaenar scowls in protest, so Jon grabs his shoulders and insists with concern.

“Do you understand me? Take Helios with you. And stay in your chambers. Now!”

Rhaenar nods and then pulls away to do as he was told since if he didn’t he’d be dragged away regardless. Even if he knew how to fight like any grown man.

However, as time passed he couldn’t pick up the sound of other additional voices that could come from the pirates incoming. No, he only heard the breathing of his dragon, and the muffled shouts from his crew and nothing else.

And yet what he waited to hear doesn’t come yet, no new voices cut in, instead suddenly something loud crashes in the ship, causing it to shake and spiking the boy's heartbeat.

He jumps to his feet and tries to peek out the small circle window, but he sees only water—Damned low windows!

So once again he’s left only to listen in. And now new voices he had yet to hear join the ship, ruff voices that are followed by cries of pain from others. It frightens him a bit, but Rhaenar tries to remain calm and puts all his faith in Jon; he will solve this, the boy tells himself.

He keeps telling himself that as the ship keeps on shaking with what it gets hit with, he listens to the battle rage on above, and even out in the hall outside his room. He hugs Helios to comfort himself since the dragon is ready to attack what may come, and keeps telling himself that Jon and the other brave soldiers above will handle this.

When the fight now sounds outside his door he jumps off his bed and snatches his spear from the corner of his room. He then returns to stand by his bed and grips onto his spear, he shifts his feet to a battle ready stance, and listens to the commotion in case someone comes in.

As time passes he narrows his gaze and Helios hovers above him ready to fight too. He still hopes Jon will come, he holds onto that hope as the doorknob begins to jingle and then the door bursts open.

When he sees that the man that barged in isn’t Jon, or his Dornish guards, or any Northerner, Rhaenar still clings onto hope that Jon will handle this.

“Helios,” the boy grimaces with his eyes piercing on the pirate. “Dracarys.”

The dragon opens his mouth and gets ready to shoot out fire, but just before he can, the man slams the door shut, causing Helios to instead take back his flames and close his jaw. Rhaenar blinks in confusion and waits there for a second with his spear still in hand, he strains his ear and hears stuff scrape against the wooden floor, and only one pair of feet.

What’s the man doing? He thinks to himself and lowers his weapon to cautiously approach his door. He reaches for the doorknob and just before he can touch the cool metal, something made of glass breaks in front of his door.

“What?” Rhaenar mumbles and slaps his hand on the doorknob to push the door open, however as he pushes the door only opens an inch before it hits against something heavy. He tries again and again and comes to the same outcome, nothing.

He tries to listen for the pirate, but now he doesn’t hear footsteps, he lost track of him when he was banging the door against what’s blocking it. He does, however, find something else in that pirates place, the strong smell of smoke, and the sound of flames eating away at the wood blocking the door.

Now that fear heightens tenfold, it turns to terror that makes him panic and try harder to open the damn door. “Someone!” He yells out for his guards. “Jon!” He cries out for the man he still hopes will come.

Helios senses Rhaenar’s desperation and terror and cries out too, he cries loud and with a high pitched tone. But nothing.

The fire only grows, letting Rhaenar see its bright glow as it peeks through the gap under the door. He tries to open the door again but now the knob burns as the flames begin to eat away at that, causing Rhaenar to hiss in pain and step back.

“Jon!” He bellows out again. “Jon!”

The dragon also cries out, but again, nothing. Not even footsteps in the hall. He just hears clashes of metal slamming together violently above.

Smoke soon thereafter begins to crawl inside the room, bringing tears to Rhaenar’s eyes both from its intensity, and fear that now paralyzes him. “Jon!” He sobs out and keeps stepping back further into the room as the flames now find a way inside his room. “Jon!”

He can’t even try and escape out of the window since it’s too small—

But Helios can. So before the fire can increase, Rhaenar jumps on his bed and quickly opens the window. “Go Helios, find Jon!” He tells his orange dragon. “Find him and bring him here!”

The dragon perches on the window and looks back at the boy, he meets Rhaenar’s fearful gaze and hesitates.

“Go, Helios!” Rhaenar insists. “Go. We’ll see one another again. Get Jon!”

Helios looks ahead and then flies off to do what Rhaenar asks of him whilst the flames only enrage.

——

*A COUPLE WEEKS LATER. WINTERFELL.*

The fresh air from the outside felt a lot fresher, crisp, and more chilly but it doesn’t feel stiff like it does in the room.

God's how much you’ve missed being on your feet! Now all you need is the sun, but here in Winterfell during the winter the sun is timid, it likes to hide most of the day and only likes to tease with glimpses of its rays.

“I want to go back to Sunspear,” you tell Sarella as you both see Elia below training on her horse. “I want to feel the sun and pick oranges and lemons.”

Sarella sighs and leans back on her heels. “Wouldn’t that be a delight? Maybe once the babes are born we can go visit.”

You look over at her as you clasps your hands over the stone railing. “You’re not staying home?”

Sarella shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe. Or I might go back to the Citadel.”

A playful smile tugs on your lips. “Ah, will you be the ever so mysterious Alleras again?”

Sarella snickers and nods. “I have yet to be revealed so yes.”

You nod. “That’s good.” You sigh and smile. “Maybe when my family and I travel beyond the wall I’ll send you a Raven so you can come along, would you like that?”

Sarella snaps her head to the side to look at you. “Yes!” She exclaims. “I’d love that! Father went to the wall, I’d love to go too.”

You hum in content and nod whilst you look past the castle gates as you spot distant figures approaching the castle. “I’ll keep you in mind then.”

The guards spot the approaching figures and sound the horn. “Riders!” They announce.

You stand on the tip of your toes and squint your gaze to try and identify what it might be, albeit it does take a while since they are far. But when they get close you see that there’s about five people on horses, and in the middle there’s a horse pulling a carriage.

Must be someone important then! There’s some much needed excitement, things have been so dreadful lately since Jon, Eraxis and Rhaenar are gone, and you could do nothing but lay in bed and let your body heal.

However, once the riders get close you identify two riders, it’s Jon and Ser Davos. And Rhaenar isn’t amongst any of the other riders—perhaps he’s in the carriage?

Regardless, they’re not meant to come home yet, they’re either supposed to be barely arriving at Kings Landing, or still at sea depending how the water is. It’s far too early—unless they decided to take the dragons instead.

“It’s Jon,” you point out to Sarella with a half smile since you don’t know whether to be worried or excited.

“Open the gates!” The guards shout.

You push yourself back from the railing and regardless of your curiosity a happy grin tugs on your face over the fact that your husband and son are back.

“I shall go greet them!” You announce and turn. However, as you do you come to an immediate stop as you hear the thundering sound of wings flapping from the sky, when you look up, only seconds later do both dragons appear in the sky above you. And actually Eraxis chooses to depart from Rhaegal and lands on the tower above the balcony you stand on.

“My beautiful girl,” you greet her.

Eraxis lowers her head to be as close as she can to you. She then growls softly and lets out a huff of air through her nose.

“Are you feeling better?” You ask her and begin to caress her snout. “How are my boys? Huh? Did you protect them well?”

Eraxis whines and turns her head so you'd meet her eye, and that’s when you notice that it’s gleaming with an unshed tear.

“What is it?” You ask now with concern.

And of course she doesn’t answer so you sigh deeply and press your forehead against her to mutter, “I’m going to greet Jon and Rhaenar, okay? Go rest, I’ll see you later.” You pull back and quickly walk inside the castle, catching the sound of Eraxis flying away.

“I never thought dragons could cry,” Sarella points out. “It was quite a sight.”

You hum softly as a response as you’re stuck in thought, and slowly grow more concerned over the men’s early return because you didn’t sense joy in Eraxis, no, her whine wasn’t high, it was soft, long. It was…sad. Why would she be sad?

You swallow thickly and quicken your pace as best as you can, Sarella catches up and matches your pace as you begin to dash down the halls.

Yet before you can reach that last hall that leads to the outside door, you’re blocked off by Arya.

“Where do you think you’re doing?” She quips.

Great, just what you need, a pestering Stark. Yes, they’re worried, it’s sweet! But not right now.

“Jon, and Rhaenar got home,” you tell her, “I’m going to greet them.”

Arya narrows her gaze. “You can greet them from your chambers. Go. You know me I won't move. You just have one more week of bedrest, come on.”

You groan and listen only because she frightens you slightly, and she’d probably use force to take you back to your room. So to avoid that you drag your feet back to your chambers like if you were some scolded child.

“I’m a Princess, you know,” you remind her as you begin to approach your quarters. “I’m higher ranked than you.”

“Aye,” she agrees. “But you’re still on bed rest, you are carrying my nieces, and I truly don’t care.” She scoffs, and when you peer back you catch a smug smirk.

You roll your eyes, but still walk into your quarters and wait with Sarella. You wait and wait. Not much time passes, but it seems like it’s been hours. Eventually, Arya returns to the room, but she only pokes her head in and pulls Sarella out of the room, leaving you alone to wait. Weird.

Your sister takes some time, so eventually your curiosity gets the best of you and you stand up off your bed to slowly creep towards the door. However, footsteps begin to echo from the hall, they approach this room, so you step back towards the bed and wait with your hands behind your back to fiddle with the rings on your fingers.

When the door opens, Jon steps inside.

You push your worry aside and beam at him before you run over to him to throw your arms around him. “Jon!” You greet and inhale, catching a whiff of smoke on his cloak.

“My love,” he whispers, “what are you doing up?” He pulls back and cups your cheeks with a smile that you right away know is feigned. Besides, when you meet his gaze you notice his eyes are gleaming with tears, his eyebrows are low and pulled together, the corners of his lips are also trembling.

“What’s wrong?” You probe and search behind him for Rhaenar. “Where’s Rhaenar?”

Immediately Jon’s lips drop that feigned smile and his eyes lower. His hands slide down to your shoulders, and a shaky sigh escapes his lips. Now that worry you had pushed back rushes back tenfold, and your heart begins to pound slow but hard.

“What is it?” You press.

Jon swallows thickly and pushes the doors closed behind him before he slowly walks you to sit on the edge of the bed. You don’t insist, you wait this time.

“Y/N, my love,” he says and finally meets your gaze with cloudy eyes. “While we were out at sea…” he pauses and exhales deeply. “We were ambushed, they hit our ship with a cannon before they attacked…we tried, we fought hard, but there were losses due to a fire…Rhaenar didn’t make it...”

His lips kept moving as he kept speaking, but nothing else registers beyond those four tragic words. You couldn’t even hear the sound of your heart as it begins to pound within your chest, or the blood as it pumps in your veins, it’s utterly quiet as you take in what he said.

Rhaenar…your son. Your only son…didn’t…make it? He’s gone?

No. No. No. No….no…

He’s not gone. He’s not gone. You can’t accept it. Not your boy.

“I want to see him,” you cut Jon off between shallow breaths. “I want to see him. I want to see my son.” You stand up, but Jon grabs your hand and pulls you back towards him.

“It’s best if you don’t see the body,” he mutters with a sympathetic look in his eyes.

You scoff and pull your hand away in annoyance. “Best if I…” you can’t even finish the sentence and just push past him. When you open the doors, Sansa, Elia, Sarella, Arya, and the maester are outside waiting. And everyone except the Maester have tears in their eyes, whilst yours also remain dry.

“Y/N,” Sansa says first and steps towards you, but you avert her touch and pity and turn to face Jon following at your tail.

“Where is he?” You ask again. “Take me to him, or I will find someone who can.”

Jon clenches his jaw and glances at the maester, when he gets an approving nod, Jon hesitates but then walks past you to take you to Rhaenar. And with every step you take you fill yourself with hope that Rhaenar is actually alive. It’s foolish to everyone else perhaps to think so, but it’s not to you because he can’t be gone.

Once Jon stops just outside the door to the main hall, he hesitates to open the doors. You however are desperate and reach over, but he pushes them open first and reveals a single wooden table placed in the middle of the hall, over it lays a casket with a small body over it covered with a black shroud. And top of that body lays Helios all balled up.

You don’t hesitate to move, but this time you don’t rush, you slowly walk in as if any sound would wake him. Jon follows behind you slowly, whilst everyone else waits outside.

“Rhaenar?” You call in a shaky voice.

The boy lays still, you look at his chest and see no movement. And Helios, he breathes, but doesn’t open his eyes to see you, he remains there on top.

“Rhaenar?” You call again this time your voice breaks whilst that hope you built begins to break away, bringing back a…agonizing feeling to your heart.

When you finally approach the body you reach for the edge of the shroud. Helios finally moves from his position and snaps his eyes open, he parts his lips to growl, but when he notices it’s you he lowers his head again and closes his eyes to continue laying.

You then continue and begin to pull back the black shroud slowly. The moment you catch only a small glimpse of his forehead however, you quickly halt as you notice his flesh is…burnt, his skin isn’t brown like it was before, some of his dark black hair is gone from his scalp, and there’s bone that pokes through, causing you to gasp and cover your mouth as you’re slammed with the devastating realization once and for all that…Rhaenar…is…gone.

He’ll never come back, he’ll never breathe again, he’ll never smile, you’ll never see him. He’ll never be King or get married, he’ll never ride his dragon like he always dreamed to. He’s…gone. No.

No. No!

“No,” you cry out softly at first and cup his face. “No, Rhaenar,” you whimper. “My sweet boy, please.” You lower your head and press your forehead against his, and just stay there cradling him, letting tears escape out of your eyes, and feeling every second of your heart shatter completely by a sharp and excruciating pain. You feel your chest tighten until it feels like you can’t even breathe. All the world loses its color, and the air is bitter.

The pain grows so intense, it riddles your body, and that feeling like you can’t breathe deepens to the point that all you can do is finally cry out in grief. Whilst in the distance Eraxis loud sorrowful song fills the air at the same time.

“No!” You cry out and grip onto Rhaenar’s body. “No! My boy! My sweet boy! No!” Your legs begin to shake and they give up carrying your weight, however Jon catches you in time and pulls you in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

You sob out and fall to the floor with him. “No,” you weep. “Please. That’s my son, that’s my son!”

“Sarella!” Jon calls out for your cousin most likely to use one of her potions to put you to sleep so you won’t put strain on the babies. And you welcome it, but first you turn and grab onto Jon’s collar before you grab his jaw.

“Tell me Jon, tell me please my love…who was it? Who killed my sweet boy? Please?” You beg.

Jon exhales deeply, but doesn’t avert his gaze, he holds it and shares what you asked for with anger in his own eyes. “It was Daenerys….she sent her army, the Second sons undercover to ambush us.”

At the sound of his words, quickly, what accompanies your grief is now anger. Burning, fierce rage.

.

.

.

Tagged: @watercolorskyy @jessimay89 @cecespizza01 @theroyalbrownbarbie @crybabyatthediscooffandoms @neenieweenie @midnightpantherxo @ashleyforeverareject @dark-night-sky-99

#fanfiction #damn-stark #sandstorm #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones #got #got fanfiction #got fanfic #Jon snow #jon snow x fem!reader #jon snow x targaryen!femreader #jon snow fanfiction #jon snow fic #jon snow x reader #jon snow x y/n #Sansa stark #daenerys targeryan #Arya stark #sarella sand #Elia sand #oc characters #daario naharis

[0alanasworld0]

Soulmates (Yassine Bounou x reader) *request

Request: Hey, honey, hope you're doing well!! I'd like to make a request with Bono, if it's okay. Maybe a story about yassine and the reader being really close friends and reader goes to watch one of his matches and by the end of it, when they get to meet, she's just so super proud and happy that she ends up kissing him. She thinks it's deathly embarrassing but he's SO happy and it's all fluffs and sweetness from there. Thank u, love ur blog!

Warnings: painfully fluffy fluff

“Hey! Give that back!” you whine as you try to jump and grab your pen. Your height or lack thereof really didn’t help you at times like this. You’re jumping as high as you can on your tiptoes while the perpetrator laughs, holding it over your head. Tears begin to form until your saviour makes his entrance, grabbing the beloved glitter pen from the other boy’s hand and pushing him away.

He scurries off quickly as your hero watches his movements, eyes narrowed. When he’s gone, he delivers a friendly smile and holds out the pen so you can take it. You narrow your eyes in slight suspicion but he remains steadfast while you slowly reach your hand out again. This time, to your delight, there’s no little trick at the end that would surely have seen tears fall down your cheeks. 

“That's really pretty!” he says and you giggle, nodding your head vigorously. 

“Thanks! My ma got them for me! I have loads more in my bag! Wanna see?” you offer to your new-found friend. You jump in delight when he nods and drag him by his wrist to where you’ve hung your bags.

Minutes later and you’re both under a large, shady oak tree colouring in a book you have decided to share. Your teachers look on in surprise and in sheer awe of the cuteness of the situation. You, little you, the quiet recluse who never wanted to share or talk or interact is all of a sudden laughing loudly and playing together with a friend. Who’d have thought?

“Do I have to tutor you, Yassine?” you sigh with exasperation. It’s a shame that your friendship with him drifted over time but what annoyed you greatly was the fact that you would always hold affection for him in your heart. What annoyed you even more was that fate would always bring the pair of you back together again so you could never truly let go of those feelings. Not close enough to ever act on those feelings but close enough so that the spark was always there. Having him any closer, you worried that those feelings would grow far too strong over the level you were comfortable with.

“Oh habibti play nice! Not everyone can be good at everything like you!” he remarks, ruffling your hair as he walks beside you. You huff and readjust the books you’re holding, your tote bag falling off your shoulder. Yassine, ever the gentleman, grabs the bag and carries it for you as you make your way to class together. Quite a risk given his friends’ childish behaviours: the bag is very… you. It's handmade and embroidered with pastel coloured threads throughout; travel-themed with your name in fancy script under a world map on one side and on the other side there’s a cheesy quote you always liked. It’s a beautiful bag but it hardly fits the manly man image he’s curated for himself. He was annoying in that he didn’t care: that image meant nothing to him and if he had to let it go to do the right thing, he wouldn’t hesitate. No amount of teasing from his friends would change that. You couldn’t blame everyone for having a soft-spot for him, you did too.

“See! I’m always such a saint to you! You’re seriously going to let me fail at life after everything I’ve done for you?” he exclaims, placing a hand on his heart and nudging your shoulder lightly. You walk a little faster, as if that were going to do anything. He obviously matches your pace.

“Yassine, you’re set to be a pro footballer, I don’t think you’re going to be failing at life with those Cs!” stopping to finally look up at his face. His stupid, handsome face. And he’s making those puppy eyes that you could never resist and he holds your hands gently on his own. A small smile makes its way onto your face, that seems to be a reflex whenever you are around him. 

“Fine.” you say and he immediately envelops you in a tight hug, spinning you around before you can continue the sentence. You shriek, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Yassine, you big lug! My stuff!” he quickly puts you down, apologising profusely and smoothing your hair down. Mind you, his arms are still wrapped around you but your feet are on the ground at least while he rocks you back and forth.

“You’re the best!” he sighs

“I know.”

You’re both currently sat on the floor of your bedroom with papers, flashcards surrounding the pair of you as you explain the harder parts of organic chemistry to him.

“Okay okay okay give me a second… the product is… less basic because the benzene ring delocalises the lone electron pair and… makes it… less available?” he tries, one eye closed as he looks up, trying to recall the basics of it.

“And what makes the other product more stable?” your eyes widen with hope, urging him to continue.

“The… methyl group?”

“Why?”

“The uh… oh god i always forget this one… uh… the… positive inductive effect?” his voice gets a little higher, unsure if that was something he just made up or if he actually managed to remember the correct term.

“Yes!” you exclaim excitedly, pulling him in for a hug. His heart beats a little faster and his reaction is delayed by a split second. You were not a hugger. Never have been. In all the time he’s known you, physical touch was something you tried your absolute hardest to avoid. As far as he’s been concerned, the only people you can tolerate it for are your parents and him. It was something he took pride in. You still held onto that affection for him years after saving you when you were kids, even when you drifted apart. You still felt comfortable enough around him to express your joy through physical touch. You still held him higher than everyone else. It was less of a challenge for him; he was affectionate with everyone, that just came naturally to him but in his mind it was always different with you. Always held on for a second longer, squeezed a little tighter, let his hand linger for a while in a way he wouldn’t dream of doing with anyone else. Drifting apart hit him the same way it did with you, your hearts yearned for each other but your heads over-thought it all: “give them time; if they wanted to talk to you, they would!” you shared those voices in your heads, the synchronicity proving to be disadvantageous for the pair of you for once. But it was fine because like you said, fate always found a way to bring the pair of you together again.

He lets go of the hug and you’re confused for a second. He jumps up onto your bed, laying down to get comfortable, and pats the spot next to him. You cock your head to the side as you eye the spot, rather small but you’re gonna have to make do. You slowly hop in as well but it's a tight squeeze. He grows sick of the shuffling and pulls you directly onto him. If this were anyone else, alarm bells would be ringing in your head and you’d be out the door but it's him so if anything, you’re more at ease. You rest your head on his chest and let his slow heartbeat soothe you, he hikes one of your legs up over his waist and your arms wrap around his neck.

“This bed has gotten smaller.” he huffs. You narrow your eyes as you look up at him.

“Yassine, you’ve been growing at an exponential rate for the past 3 years, what did u expect?” you say incredulously. You smile at the feeling of his chest rumbling when he laughs. You stay like that for a while, basking in each other's company after spending far too long keeping yourselves away from the other. The peace is interrupted by the ring of his phone, one arm stays around you while the other reaches into your back pocket where you kept the distracting device. You squeak in surprise as he pinches you lightly. You suppose he still isn’t overjoyed by you taking it from him.

“Oh that's my mum, wants me home for dinner.” he says dejectedly, kissing the top of your head before lifting himself up. You untangle your limbs, already missing the warmth he brought you. 

“Same time tomorrow though?” he looks at you expectedly before walking out of the door and you look at him, confusion apparent in your eyes.

“I thought this was a biweekly thing?” you question.

“I think I could do with some extra lessons.” he shrugs, nonchalantly. He hopes you don’t see through the facade, he’s almost certain that he’s ready to ace his tests now but he just wants to spend more time with you. If that meant playing dumb and having you explain the same concepts to him over and over again, so be it. You were far softer than your exterior let on, you had a lot of patience for those around you, in fact. It was never an inconvenience for you to help others out and you wouldn’t dream of getting annoyed at someone for asking to re-explain something, even if it felt obvious to you. Another thing he absolutely adored about you. The pair of you admired each other in infuriatingly equal amounts, it's what made the distance all the more baffling to those around you. 

You’re suspicious of his reasoning, he’s getting the hang of it all and you’ve seen some of his most recent self-marked papers: he’s doing well and he’s not the best at hiding it. You nod anyway because again, you’re thinking in the same way: you want to spend more time with him.

As he goes to leave, you remember something.

“I have my piano lesson tomorrow!” you meekly call out and he turns around.

“Just text me when the teacher leaves. If I bring my stuff, can we work there and go home together?” he asks hesitantly. You smile and nod, he lets out a sigh of relief, smiling back at you. He heads out uninterrupted this time and you don’t have a reason to call him back this time, much to both of your disappointment.

He may have already had that planned out, you’ve been on his mind a lot more recently and as the memories of you playing for him after a bad match resurfaced. He yearns to hear you play again. To watch your cute, concentrated face and graceful hands as the beautiful melody fills the room. There were so many things he missed out on by keeping his distance that the need to relive all of it has become unbearable. He even missed your grade 7 recital. Achieving that grade was a big deal for you and while you didn’t invite him, he feels as if he should have taken it upon himself to go rather than spending the night celebrating the match win with his friends. You’ve never needed to ask him to do these things before, what changed? He still beats himself up for it but he was going to do whatever he could to make it up to you, even if you in fact didn’t hold anything against him.

“Have you had enough yet?” you ask teasingly as you finish the 6th full-length piece after having finished studying with him. Literature this time and he insists that he needs the music to will away the headache that analysing pretentious poetry caused.

“Absolutely not, another.” he waves his hand at you dismissively and you shake your head with a small laugh. Now that's true music to his ears, if only he weren’t sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the wall. He remedies the problem by hauling himself up and sitting with you on the stool, he rests his head on yours with a pout. You can’t see it but you know. You begin playing another one of your pieces from the ghibli sheet music book that he got you. You didn’t know it was him, however: he gave it to your parents and asked for it to be wrapped up for your birthday but insisted that they didn’t tell you who it was from.

He’d gone to the Japanese novelty store that recently opened out of curiosity, because it reminded him of you and the first thing that caught his eye was the sheet music book proudly  displayed in the window of the store. His mind immediately goes to the group sleepovers you had as kids. Every time it was your turn to pick, it was always a ghibli film or his beloved Iron Man. He’d grown attuned to your true preferences and on his turn, would also choose them; partly to see your ears perk up upon hearing his choice and also to impress you. Sure, he would rather watch Iron Man for the nth time but he would do anything to see your eyes light up. It was a quiet exchange between the pair of you that would continue, unspoken. He didn’t understand what compelled him back then but it had slowly started to grow more and more apparent to him. Your happiness was intertwined with the other.

He intensely quizzed the guys at the counter about it, confirming the authenticity and once he was satisfied, he bought it and left the store with a spring in his step. The store clerks were exhausted by the end of the exchange and sighed in relief upon his exit. When he got home and raced to his room, he sat down on his bed with the book and stared at it. You barely even speak to her anymore! How creepy would it be if I showed up with a gift out of nowhere? Just let her go, dammit! He scolds himself,

“Yassine, sweetheart, she still adores you. This will mean that much more to her if she knows it came from you!” your mum urges, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“We haven’t spoken in a while, I don’t want to weird her out.” he justifies with uncertainty.

“I think you’re the last person that would push her away like that, Yassine.” she tries again. The newfound drift breaks both yours and his parents' hearts. It would have hurt less if your bond was truly broken and you just grew out of sync with each other but no, the pair of you were simply wrought with self-doubt that you struggled to communicate. His silence is deafening and your mum decides to let it go.

“Okay but know that you still have a place in her heart.” She gives him a tight hug before letting him leave.

I GOT AN A* I GOT AN A* I GOT AN A* I GOT AN A* LOOK LOOK LOOK LOOK!” The pandemonium gets louder and louder as Yassine sprints to where you’re sitting and you get up, looking at him waving the paper around with a smile. The giant red letter and number finally provided him a sense of relief rather than stress. You think you can see an ‘excellent’ scrawled on the front as well.

“I didn’t catch that, a B did u say?” you tut jokingly. He’s too excited to come up with a remark of his own and just lifts you up, spinning you around as fast as you can while you squeal, laughing and enjoying the moment with him.

“You are amazing!” he exclaims, letting you down and holding you steady while you recover and catch your breath.

He’s relaxed in his seat as you lay your head on his shoulder, eyes closed. Your exam really sucked the energy out of you today and you’re barely functioning at the moment. You can’t bring yourself to care as the rest of the team gather to sit around him. You’ve recently been spending more lunchtimes with them all as Yassine successfully caught you hiding in the art room and he now insists that you sit with him instead. Again, making up for lost time. It’s a normal occurrence now and you’ve grown tolerant of his teammates. They’re not so bad, you learn; just extremely energetic. You would never admit it but you actually quite like this routine. You find the chatter to be comforting and you’re surprised to find yourself laughing with them quite often.

“Oh wait, I left something in my locker!” he says, gently pushing you off so he can run and grab it. He expected this outcome and prepared in advance, taking full advantage of the newfound time together to make you as happy as he could like his life depended on it. 

“Y’know, if the pair of you just kissed and made things official, literally nothing would change.” one of the girls comments, a smile on her face. You hear the general hums and affirmations of agreement and you groan.

“Guys c'mon now, we’re just super close! We’ve literally been friends since we were toddlers, obviously we’re gonna be affectionate with each other!” you chastise, shaking your head.

“Friends that cuddle?”

“Yes.”

“And run fingers through the other’s hair?”

“Yes.”

“And spend months planning gifts for each other, without occasion?”

“And constantly talk about each other when the other isn’t there?”

“And spend years stealing glances but not talking because you’re too chicken to admit that you miss the other?”

“And have multiple shared playlists?”

“Ooooh that's an important one!” you stay silent as you think things through, deciding that saying anything would only further validate their suspicions. You drop your head to the desk and close your eyes, exhaustion still apparent, you would barely be able to talk even if the conversation weren’t such a nerve-wracking one.

“C’mon don’t you think it's odd that someone like him hasn’t dated or even taken a glance at a single girl that isn’t you?” she elaborates

“You’re exaggerating that” you mumble sleepily.

“We’ve had to deal with his sappy ass for long enough, girl. Trust me when I say we’re not exaggerating. If anything, we haven’t made it clear enough.” she reassures. And once again you hear the mutters of agreement from around the table. 

As if on cue, Yassine comes back with a tupperware container in his hand and cutlery in the other. He sets them down and pats your back to get you up. When he sits down, you return your head to his shoulder, sighing out in relief. He opens the container and you open your eyes as the familiar smell makes its way to your nose. 

“Yassine, you didn’t…” you trail, heart warmed by the gesture.

“C’mon I had to do something, you’ve been stressing yourself out way too much!” he tuts, kissing the top of your head before you sit up and take a bite of your favourite food.

“You’re a life-saver!” 

“Oh I know!” he says, nudging your shoulder with a cheeky smile. You’re both too engrossed in each other to notice the rest of the table carefully eyeing the interaction. It was gonna topple over into something beautiful someday, they were just waiting on when.

“Your dress is very… you” he comments with a smile, holding out his hand for you to hold. You narrow your eyes with a smile.

“I’m not sure if that's a compliment.” you say suspiciously. He simply shrugs and you laugh quietly together. Your mom runs in excitedly with her camera ready. 

“Ma, you do realise that we’re not going together right?” you clarify. It hurts your heart a little to say that, even if you basically are going to prom together. Officially your whole mega-group is going together but in everyone’s heads, it's you and him.

“Yes yes whatever you say now come on.” she gestures to you both to stand together and pose for the photo. He places his arm around your waist, standing up straight. You place one of yours around his shoulders and the other on the hand on your waist.

A couple adorable photos in, he whispers something in your ear that has you fighting back a laugh. A subtle tickle of your side breaks you and the pair of you burst out into laughter. He’s holding you up to keep you from collapsing on the ground and tears form in the corners of your eyes.

Unbeknownst to you, your mum has still been taking photos and each one is more adorable than the next. 

They’re made for eachother. She thinks to herself

When the pair of you get some more photos taken with the whole group at the venue and everyone settles for the final dance, he pulls you to the middle of the dance floor, your arms find a place on his shoulders and he finds your waist. As you sway to the music, he’s the first to say something.

“It’s nice that we’re both staying in Morocco, huh?” he says with a smile. He’s so relieved that you’re still going to be together. He would eventually find a way to tell you but now just doesn’t feel right. He knows that the moment will come but he wants to trust his instincts on this one.

“I know! A 30 minute car ride is nothing!” you say with a smile to match.

“You’re gonna be winning your nobel prizes while I win my league medals, we’re gonna make Moroccan history together!” he says with excitement, you truly admire his confidence. It’s gotten him so far already so you can’t blame him. 

“And we’ll still be attached by the hip?” you question, hesitantly.

“Oh absolutely, I still need to make up for years 7-9!” he says with a shake of his head.

You both in fact did stay very close: calling each other as often as you could, visiting was a bit of a pain but you made it work when you could although face-timing was a lot easier and did the trick. The smile you brought to each other's faces remained the same and the few hugs you were able to give each other somehow got even tighter.

“I need you to come to the match this Sunday.” 

“Yassine, it is 5 am in the morning.”

“Yes, and?”

“I thought you didn’t want to draw attention to your private life?”

“Well that was me being stupid!” you laugh quietly, pulling him into your place and sitting down with him.

“What’s going through your head?” you ask, holding his giant hands in yours.

“It’s just a really big deal is all… I don’t know, I just have a feeling! But you have to be there, pleeeeeeeeeeeease?” he begs and you toy with the idea of teasing him but he looks oddly stressed.

“Yassine, is that even a question? Of course, I’ll be there!” you say, rubbing his back soothingly. He lets out a breath he’s been holding and envelops you in a hug, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

Just like you promised, you were there, sat inside the bunker, watching the screen intently. You can see his frustration apparent with the conceded goal. The team has really been turning things around recently and he knows that losses really would hinder his ambitions. He needed this. Your heart sinks as the minutes tick closer to the 95 minute mark. You can imagine the google stats already and they’re undoubtedly going to be in Valladolid's overwhelming favour. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and you’re struggling to comprehend what the screen is displaying. Where is he going? Why is he leaving his post? Your heart rate climbs as he reaches the opposition box, his fellow teammates are fumbling every scoring opportunity and somehow the opposing defence hasn’t cleared the ball. Finally after what feels like years of horribly inaccurate back and forth, a good friend finally makes use of Yassine’s position, gets the ball in his direction and he kicks. You scream out in excitement. You can’t believe your eyes. Yassine, YOUR Yassine just scored the winner for Wydad to give them the point. Your cheeks hurt from smiling as you watch him celebrate the moment with his team. It was truly something else.

It feels like forever but you finally catch him as he’s walking back into the bunker and you pull him to the side and jump on him to give him as tight a hug as you can manage. He catches you and holds the backs of your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist. The smile hasn’t left your face and you’re struggling to hold in your joy. You loosen your arms to look at him.

“That was incredible!” you exclaim.

“I don’t know what happened! One second I’m running to the other post and the next I just kick the ball and-” the excitement didn’t stop bubbling and you finally, finally break to press your lips onto his. He widens his eyes in a millisecond of shock but combs a hand through your hair, closing his eyes to relish the moment he had been waiting years for. They’re so soft and warm and- oh no. you regain some control over your mind and pull away to realise what's happened. Your cheeks heat up and you don’t know how in the world you’re gonna justify that as ‘friendly.’ 

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry I don't know what came over me I-” you cut yourself off as you try to get off him. But, your confusion spikes as his grip remains strong on you. He frantically looks at your eyes to see them start to tear up so he pulls you in for another kiss. The grip on your head means that you can’t pull away this time. He needs this. This is what was calling to him. It was you, always you. And he knew that but finally the moment came where he felt he could express it. It’s a bit gentler this time as you both pour out everything you have felt towards each other since the start: frustration, confusion, admiration, love. He wouldn’t let his head get in the way of it like he used to. You were meant to be and you were meant to be now.

You unwillingly part for breath, foreheads still touching and you both smile. 

“Thank your instinct, Yassine.” you both laugh as you enjoy each other's company. Some of his teammates catch the moment as they walk by and whistle. They knew you and even they had caught wind of Yassine’s loyalty to you. If they were getting sick of the pining, imagine how everyone else in your lives felt.

“That Ghibli book was from me, by the way.” 

“Mom told me” you say, still breathing heavily. You chuckle silently together, still unwilling to let each other go. Soulmates from the start and you could both finally revel in the fact.

His hand grips your thigh the entire ride home and you’re wearing his jersey. The dopey smiles haven’t left your faces as you rethink all of your time spent together, wondering what made you both so hesitant in hindsight. When you reach his place, he quickly runs to your door to open it and pick you up bridal style before walking to the door. He lets you down while he fumbles to get the door open as quickly as he can. Once it finally opens, he picks you up again, kicking his shoes off and carefully making his way to his bedroom. He tosses you onto the bed and follows shortly after, holding your hands above your head and kissing you anywhere he can reach before finally meeting your lips again in a gentle kiss. Finally, fate brings the two of you well and truly together: like soulmates.

I hope this makes u guys feel as many things as it made me lmao. Enjoy, my loves xxxx

#yassine bounou imagine #yassine bounou x reader #yassine bono #yassine bounou #footballer fic #footballer imagine #football fanfic #football fluff

[doing-something-unholy]

Father's Dream

Father Adrian has had some... interesting dreams here lately. But what could possibly be causing them?

CW // dubcon, cnc, monsterfucking, body horror, unreality? 

I am alone in the nave, tidying up after evening mass. The altar servers were already sent home, my vestments put away, and straightening up the last few misplaced hymnal books meant that I could leave too. But, not yet.

The atmosphere in the church at dusk is so calm and quiet, I take a few moments to breathe it in. The last rays of sunset set the stained glass windows alight, color beaming across the faint trails of incense smoke still drifting through the air. This church is my sanctuary, my second home, my passion project. One would hardly recognise it from the near-ruin it used to be in, and I couldn’t be more proud of the way this parish came together to restore it. I’ve spent so long in this building, so much of myself is poured into it: blood, sweat, and tears into everything here. It’s as close as I’ll ever come to Heaven on Earth, and I am grateful for the respite from the noise in my head within these walls. My soft footsteps are the only thing that breaks the silence as I walk back to the altar.

I place a reverent hand on the very edge, leaning down to place a soft, barely-there kiss to the cold stone before kneeling on the steps in front of it. I fold my hands together, resting on the edge of the altar, my head bowed between my arms. It's not the most comfortable spot or position to pray, but it feels apt. Maybe the strain in my muscles and the ache in my knees will keep any other thoughts out of my head. 

Which I can avoid no longer. Now that the church is empty, and I’m unlikely to be disturbed, I want to talk with Him.

“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

Amen.”

My voice is barely a whisper, but it echoes off every wall and the effect is chilling: a whole choir of voices surrounding me, and I can only hope it's the voices of Saints and Angels, and not… well…

“Please, Oh Lord, lead me not into temptation. You know the strength of my spirit and I trust You not to test me to destruction, but… Please, I- I can't sleep. Deliver me from these… nightmares. Protect me from the demon that hides in my dreams, Lord. I submit to Your Glory and accept that I need Your divine intervention.”

My own whispers twist and echo back at me, like an audience discussing my ‘performance.’ 

I wish they were nightmares.

I wish I couldn’t say that for a brief moment, every morning I wake after one of those beau- Damned dreams that it is the most relaxed I’ve ever been. I wish I didn’t have to wake up loose-limbed and at-peace and smiling only to have it crash down around me as I remember who I’m supposed to be.

I wish I could say that I hated those dreams.

But even now, hazy images flicker through my mind, and I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. And certainly nothing else rising. The guilt at thinking these things in a church, in my church, is almost too much. I’ve been staying up later and later to avoid sleeping, but someone is going to notice the growing bags under my eyes eventually. But mostly it’s the toll the stress has been taking on me. I’ve always been an anxious person, but I didn’t used to jump when parishioners knocked on my door. 

The shame is killing me, the eyes of God and His angels stare into me like red-hot brands, seeing the stain upon my soul. Hopefully He also sees how desperate I am for this to end, and I will be spared.

I stay in place for a long moment, willing the ache in my body to clear my head. It’s not as straining as I thought to sit like this, so I can stand to stay here as long as it takes to replace the thoughts in my head with the soreness of my knees. The church is so still and quiet, my eyes fall shut in silent prayer, breathing deeply and slowly. I don’t know how long I stay there, surrendered to the Lord.

I can hardly bear looking up toward the crucifix hanging on the back wall of the sanctuary. It's no sooner that I make eye contact with Christ that the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

I don't know how I know, but something in the air has shifted. I can't seem to move. Someone- no, something is behind me.

There's a faint whisper in my ear.

"Father…"

I turn suddenly, plastering myself against the altar, heart racing. There's no one there.

Obviously, I am being ridiculous, there can’t possibly be anyone there. There's no reason my heart should be leaping into my throat. Just an overactive imagination, I am jumping at nothing, again.

I'm glad I decided to opt for a clerical suit today instead of the cassock, I'd have made a fool of myself tripping over the skirts. I pick myself up off the step, embarrassed and ready to spend another sleepless night in my office, but I hardly get upright again when I can see movement towards the front door of the church.

The votive candles flicker, the flames guttering. They shouldn't be, there's no wind in here. My stomach drops when they go out entirely, the dim red glow from the windows and the few candles left on the altar behind me are the only lights in the church now.

For a long, tense moment, nothing happens and I think I might be able to just leave when there's a soft purring growl from behind me. 

Every muscle in my body tenses. 

I can't move, even when I can hear something huge shift its weight and the breath leaves my lungs when a large clawed hand lands softly on the back of my neck. The claws gently scrape my scalp as it drags its hand up through my hair. I shiver at the feeling of it, goosebumps breaking out on my arms. 

The hand abruptly grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back, making me gasp and look up to see an inhuman face peering down at me. 

A wicked grin reveals sharp teeth in it's short muzzle, two pairs of bright mischievous eyes staring down at me from under elegantly arched horns. The same gilded eyes that have haunted my wet dreams nightmares for weeks now. It must see the horrified recognition on my face, because it laughs, a rumbling chuckle that I'm mortified to realize makes my pulse pick up for the wrong reasons. 

“We finally meet face to face, Father, and you look so scared? You never seemed so off-put before.” It’s voice is a seductive purr, and it goes through me like fire. 

“L-let go of me. I c-command you to let go of me,” My voice comes out so much weaker than I hoped, “In- In nomine Pat– mmpph!”

A hand slaps down against my mouth, cutting me off. 

“Oh, don’t be like that, priest. Let me have my fun first.” There’s a grin in its voice as it watches me struggle to pull its hand away and wiggle out of its grasp. The grip in my hair slowly tightens until it hurts, making me cry out beneath the hand on my mouth. It’s only when I go limp, stop fighting that they- it, loosens up.

“What a quick learner. Good boy.” It leans down and whispers the last two words into my ear, and the effect is immediate and devastating. I can feel the pull of arousal in my gut, and goosebumps down my arms. It just laughs above me, this close to it I can feel its chest rumble.

“There we go, just like in your delicious dreams.” The hand comes away from my mouth, but before I can say anything it wraps around my throat instead. My breath catches as it puts just the slightest pressure on my neck, the claws little pin-pricks against the skin.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me, Father? This doesn't have to be so difficult, sweetheart…” Its voice vibrates against my ear and I can’t suppress a shiver. 

“No… p-please…” I feel pathetic for begging a demon to spare me, but there’s nothing else I can do. I don’t want this, I can’t want this, I can’t convince myself I don’t want this let alone convince them. 

It still has one hand in my hair and the other wrapped around my neck, and I yelp in surprise when I feel two more land on my waist and glide up and around to my chest. I can feel the thing smile against the side of my face, amused by my every reaction.

The hands pull until my back hits the altar, my head bracketed by the monster’s knees, and it’s only then I realize it has the audacity to sit, kneeling, on the altar. I’m so stunned and instantly angry I forget what vulnerable position my throat is in.

“How dare you desecrate my church, the very altar, you foul monster–” 

The grip on me tightens in an instant, claws pressing into but not breaking the skin of my neck and my hair nearly being ripped out. I can’t stop a pained whine from pouring out of me, I can’t even move my hands to try to pull away, the other two arms holding them down by my sides. 

There's a low, menacing growl behind me, and their voice is rough and dark when they speak, a dangerous edge to it.

“I strongly recommend you shut your mouth, Father. I don’t think you’re in any position to be casting stones about desecrating a church.” They finally loosen their grip on my hair just enough that my scalp isn’t screaming in pain, but I still can’t move my head. The grip on my arms shifts, they catch both of my wrists behind my back and their newly freed hand presses softly against my stomach and slowly drifts downward. I nearly sob when their hand closes around my clothed erection, palming me through the cassock. 

“What were you saying about desecration, Father? Dirty little priest, are you hard for this ‘foul monster’?” They move their hand slowly along my trapped length, the friction is maddening even though layers of fabric. I can’t speak, just taking shuddering breaths and praying this is over soon. 

“You were never this shy in your other dreams, Father. Nothing to say to me now? Do you want me to keep hurting you, you masochist?”

“No! Please, no. Stop touching me…”

“I’d probably be more convinced by that pathetic attempt at getting me to stop if your cock didn’t throb under my hand when I said that. I can read your desires like an open book, Father. Give in to me and I’ll fulfill every single naughty thing you’ve ever thought about late at night with your hand under those robes.”

It’s getting hard to think about anything other than how good their hand feels. I have to focus to keep from rutting my hips forward into their agonizingly slow rubbing. I must have taken too long to answer, because the next thing I know I’m being lifted into the air and pulled back onto their lap. My body is arranged how they want me, my legs spread wide outside of their thighs and my hands trapped between my back and their chest. 

"N- no, I can't- I won't! Let go of me!"

I can feel the laugh rumbling out of their chest, their hands holding me close to their body- oh God, they're almost twice my size. 

"Oh don't worry Father, I know you can't. You're not allowed to, are you? But that doesn't mean you don't want it." 

Their lower hands drift downward, broad palms flat against my thighs. They squeeze my thighs at the same time a hand on my chest finds my nipple and starts rubbing it through my clothes. I bite my lip to keep from making any noise, but the demon won't have that. There's a soft rumbling growl next to my ear and they start palming me through the cassock again, slow but firm. 

"I'll take care of you, better than God ever will. Just give in and submit."

It's torture, I can't stop the shudder that rips through me and the gasp from my mouth. My thighs are tight with the effort of not rolling my hips into the touch. The incense smoke is heavy in the air, the heady scent making my head spin. It's getting harder and harder to stifle my reactions, to not give this monster the satisfaction of watching me crumble at their every touch.

The other hand slips behind me, groping my ass before lifting my cassock and suddenly I can feel short soft fur against the back of my bare thighs. 

Wait- what happened to my clothes, this isn't what I was wearing- 

Their hands move over me, adjusting my positioning, and I can feel- oh God, no-

They laugh when they feel my weak struggling against their grip, all it does is grind my ass against their cock, making the both of us moan.

"I'll give you what you need, Father, what you've wanted for so long. I won't hurt you anymore than you want to be hurt." 

Their cock rests against my entrance and with a shocked groan I can feel myself open for them, suddenly dripping wet like a cunt. Then it's pressing inside me and my mouth falls open at the feeling of being stretched. The demon presses in so slowly I can feel every inch of their thick cock spearing me open. They moan in delight, a purr rumbling up from their chest when they're pressed fully inside me. I can't do anything but hang limp in their grasp, panting heavily.

I can’t move or think, consumed by the feeling of the massive cock stretching me out. Mercifully they haven't moved yet, just gently arranging me to sit comfortably in their lap and caressing my thigh and chest. I can feel their smug purring through my back, their nose nuzzling through my hair and along the back of my neck. A forked tongue laves over the back of my neck, I break out in goosebumps as they slowly move down one side of my neck, licking and kissing. I pull my head away, refusing to allow the display of affection from this… thing. I can feel it’s disapproval, it’s lip curling in a silent snarl next to my face.

“Oh Father, would you rather I not kiss you? I thought you would appreciate a little romance, but you really do just want me to treat you like a cheap whore, don’t you?” Their voice has a dangerous edge to it, are they genuinely upset by my rejection?

“We’ll just get on with it then,” they purr into my ear as their hands move my body where they want it. 

A hand on my lower back and another on my throat push and pull in tandem to force me to bend in an arch, the movement rocking my hips over the cock inside me and sending sparks up my spine. The demon uses its new leverage to pull almost all the way out, and it pushes back in just as slow as the first time, letting me feel how much my body has to stretch around. I can’t let it hear me, I refuse to humiliate myself further, so I press my lips together to keep my mouth shut. Each slow thrust makes me shake and my breath comes heavy through my nose, but I can’t make any noise-

The demon pulls me back onto its cock with a hand on my hip and the change in angle makes the next thrust drag across something inside me that makes me see stars. I forget entirely where I am and what I’m doing, my mouth flies open with a shameless moan. Instantly my face is on fire, but I don’t have time to think about my shame because the demon’s thrusts speed up and start targeting that exact spot. Each one lights me up, driving all other thoughts out. I’m distantly aware of the pitiful little noises I keep making, but I can’t do anything other than hang on for the ride. It’s nothing like I’ve ever felt before, being stretched out and fucked mercilessly and each thrust hitting something incredible inside me… it’s almost too much to handle.

“There we go, that’s what you needed, isn’t it, Father?” The monster’s head rests on my shoulder, speaking into my ear. I can’t answer anymore, I feel like I'm coming apart at the seams, the intense sensation and incense smoke have me so dizzy. Is the room really spinning? It shouldn’t be, I know it can’t actually be. There shouldn’t be this much smoke in the air, mass ended ages ago… The whole sanctuary looks unfamiliar, the altar and nave warped together into one massive alcove with velvet curtains and gilded candelabras and enormous stained glass windows that bathe the both of us in blood-red light. The architecture in the room pulses like a heartbeat- in time with my heartbeat, like the ornate vaulted ceiling and pillars and carvings can’t decide what they're supposed to look like. Or maybe it’s me, my vision swimming as I lose focus on reality itself.

Looking up isn’t any better, the monster behind me seems to have changed too. Shadowed shapes flutter above us, I almost think they’re wings until it clicks into place- hands. Dozens and dozens of shadowy arms pour out of their back in the shape of wings. A tarnished, cracked ring hovers above the back of their head, spikes emanating from it at regular intervals as it spins lazily. I can’t look at any of it for too long, my eyes refuse to focus and slide off like water off a duck, leaving motion-trail after-images in my mind. 

I close my eyes to avoid the worst of it, whining and laying my head back on the soft fur behind me. One of my hands finds a horn above me and I hang on just to have something to anchor myself to.

My hips move on their own now, meeting each thrust from the demon. A coil tightens in my stomach, something building to a knife’s edge inside me. It doesn’t even occur to me to stop, solely focused on chasing that pleasure. Then that rumbling laugh comes again in my ear, and I remember where I am all at once with a keening whine. I still can’t stop myself from rocking backwards onto the thick cock, but now there’s a white-hot streak of shame burning in me, and I’m horrified to realize that it makes the arousal and lust burn hotter, too.

“You’re so close, aren’t you, Father? Ready to cum for me?” The demon taunts. Their voice sharpens suddenly, their hand tightening around my throat, “Don’t you fucking dare. Not until you admit how much you love this, how good it makes you feel. Give in and say ‘yes’ to me, Father.”

I'm too breathless to speak, just a keening whine escaping me.

"No, please… I can't…"

I can't think, I can hardly breathe, too dizzy and overwhelmed to focus on fighting back or arguing. And the demon knows it, their voice a seductive purr in my ear.

"Don't be so difficult. You want this, Father."

"N-no, no…"

A hand creeps around to palm my cock through the cassock, I jerk in their grasp and sob at the pleasure of it.

"There, is that better? Say yes, sweetheart."

I can't- I can't move my mouth around the words anymore, oh God-

"Father…"

Please, I can't- I won't- I shouldn't…

"Father?"

Another pitiful whine, I can feel my resolve slipping.

"Father, are you alright?"

Oh God… y-

"Father!"

There's a hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. My heart lurches in my chest, I jerk awake so suddenly I nearly jump off the floor.

I'm laying on the step in front of the altar, heart hammering and a concerned altar server hovering over me. Sunrise weakly peeks through the windows. The nave is as it was, no warped architecture or demonic influence.

"Father? Are you okay?"

"...No, I'm sorry, I… must have fallen asleep here last night. I haven't been sleeping well."

Every movement aches, my entire body is stiff and sore, and no wonder if I spent all night on the steps. I pull myself upright, wincing in horror at the warm, wet feeling across the front of my pants, thankful they're dark enough to hide the stain.

The altar server just stares at me, I can’t bear to meet their eyes and see the pity there.

They insist on canceling Mass to 'let me rest,' concerned I may be sick. I'm going to let them believe that, too exhausted and ashamed to argue. I find myself back in the rectory in a daze, re-dressed in casual clothes and dreading the heaviness I can feel pulling at my eyelids. 

I put myself to bed in a haze, rosary wrapped around my wrist and clutching my bible to my chest like a shield. I intended to read it, but I no longer have the energy for it, already drifting off despite my best efforts not to. 

I pray I can rest, I pray the Lord will shelter me, that I may sleep in His peace. 

Amen…

#hierophilia #priest kink #terato #nsft #father speaks #i had an original text posts tag but fuck if i remember it #its 2 am bec i got distracted playing sims and now my brain is fried goodnight lmao #art

[feyhunter78]

Poisoned Tears and Scorched Tongues (5/22)

Description: Aemond isn't too fond of his betrothed or Alyra's and looking back on their lives together he realizes he doesn't care too much for what others think, he knows what he wants.

He stares forward as Cassandra drones on, ever since their betrothal was announced she’s decided that they should spend as much time together as possible, much to Aemond’s annoyance. Usually, he would spend this time in the library, or in the gardens with his sister and her children, and of course Alyra would be there as well, but that wasn’t the only reason he visited. At least that’s what he told his mother.

“What do you think my prince?” Cassandra was looking up at him expectantly and all he could see was Alyra’s tearful face as she bared her soul to him.

He gave Cassandra a small smile and pushed Alyra’s image out of his mind. “My apologies dear one, I must have gotten lost in thought. What did you ask?”

Cassandra tilted her head towards two approaching figures. “I asked if you knew how your brother and Alyra—”

“Lady Alyra.” He corrected her on reflex, used to making sure Alyra was given the respect she deserved by others of the court.

“How your brother and Lady Alyra have become so close?”

His eye darted over to where Aegon and Alyra were walking, she seemed in good spirits, and his brother didn’t look as if he wanted to throw himself out the nearest window. “She is my sister’s closest companion, and he my sister’s husband, I can’t find it too difficult to believe that over the years they’ve grown close.”

“Is she not betrothed to a Lannister?”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and he pulled his eye away from the shyly smiling Alyra to look at Cassandra. “And what exactly are you implying?” His tone was frigid. The only thing keeping him from ending this ridiculous charade was Alyra’s insistence that marrying Tyrion was the best option for her family.

Cassandra took note of his shift in demeanor and shook her head. “I don’t mean to imply anything, I was simply inquiring after her marital status, I do have brothers after all.”

“Your father would marry off one of his sons to a Hawthorne?”

Cassandra pursed her lips then nodded. “The crown princess speaks highly of Lady Alyra; her words have sparked some interest in the Hawthorne name.”

“Interesting.” Aemond said, his eye drifting back to Alyra who was bent over to pick a small pink flower.

When Alyra first arrived, he strived to feel nothing. Fresh from losing his eye, he was insecure and annoyed by his older brother’s teasing. Then Helaena had returned from the throne room with Alyra in tow, and all his anger went flying out the window. She was radiant. Shy and sweet, with soft hands and a kind smile. She never flinched at his scars or his angry words, she sat beside him and helped him through his darker days. He had fallen in love with her before he knew what love truly was.

He felt sick on his ten and third birthday, Aegon had taken him to a brothel, told him it was “time to get it wet.” He wasn’t a saint, he’d had dreams, thoughts, fantasies, but this was nothing like that. It was rough, cold, and left him feeling hollow.

When he returned hoping to slink away to his chambers and hide from the world, she caught him. She, like always, was all smiles, open arms and a book he’d been searching forever for. He wanted to throw himself on his sword when he saw the way she ran from his room.

Then years later at the tourney he was forced to stand in the presence of his half-sister and pretend he didn’t have the urge to snatch Alyra away, to hide her from the rest of the world. Aemond had to swallow his anger as he rested his head on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair, honeysuckle and lavender. When she turned in his arms, lower lip stuck out in a pout, he knew he would give her anything she asked for. Even if it meant leaving her in the company of the Strongs.

 Then she ran into the ring chasing after her brother and he felt his heart stop, ignoring his mother’s calls he pushed through the crowd nearly falling on his knees in front of her, but he kept his composure and pulled her from the ground in a rush unable to stop himself from taking hold of her. Propriety and manners of the court be dammed. It took all the strength he had to leave her with the Lannister boy and then again, all the strength he had when he found out the boy had asked for Alyra’s hand.

His Alyra, his dōna, the only woman he’d ever considered marrying, the one he wished was there in the brothel bed with him instead of the coarse older woman he laid under. Not that he would ever drag her to that horrid place, that he would ever dishonor her in such a way. She was too sweet, too pure, she could never know of the ways she crept into his dreams and left him gasping and hungry.

Cassandra pulled him from his reminiscing, and he let her lead him back inside. As they entered, he spotted the Lannister boy. Tyrion was talking animatedly with a visiting noblewoman, his loud laugh filling the air. Was he having an affair? Was this something he could use against the preening lion cub?

“Are we setting a date for the wedding soon?” Cassandra asked, her intelligent eyes tracked his gaze to Tyrion. “My father wants us married before the Lannister wedding; he doesn’t want to compete.”

Aemond nodded, “I’ll speak with my mother.”

Cassandra sighed and attempted to lay her head on his shoulder, but he moved quickly already calling out to Tyrion.

The golden-haired man’s smile faltered for a moment and he removed his hand from the arm of the woman in front of him. “Prince Aemond, how are you this fine afternoon?”

Aemond examined the pair, Tyrion seemed calm, his hands steady, his eyes meeting Aemond’s. The woman on the other hand seemed flustered, unable to meet anyones gaze she looked like a deer waiting for its moment to flee.

“Quite well, and you?”

“I couldn’t ask for a better day,” he motioned towards the woman, “my beloved childhood friend and I have just been reunited.”

“I am Lady Elisa of the Riverlands, your highness, it’s an honor to be here in your beautiful home.” Elisa had soft features and brilliant red hair, that reminded Aemond of dragon fire.

Aemond nodded, “have you introduced her to your betrothed?”

“I believe she’s with Prince Aegon in the garden.” Cassandra quickly said, linking her arm with his as if staking her claim.

Tyrion nodded, “Alyra and Elisa get along very well. I introduced them this morning, and they’ve already made plans to go into town to visit the markets.”

“Lady Alyra is so kind, she asked me to help her look at fabrics for her wedding dress.” Elisa added. “She said that since Tyrion and I have been friends for so long, I would be a great help in finding something he would like.”

Aemond hummed lowly and turned pulling Cassandra along with him as he stalked down the hallway. Visions of Alyra a wedding gown, her hands joined with Tyrion's taunted him and he unlatched himself from Cassandra.

“I must go visit my dragon; I will send for you later.”

Cassandra took a step back then stopped. “Might I come with you? If we’re to be married I imagine I’ll meet your dragon, why not now?”

Aemond restrained himself from scoffing aloud.

The only woman who would ride Vhagar with him would be Alyra. He’d seen it in his dreams, discussed it over and over again with Vhagar before he’d finally worked up the courage to ask her when they were ten and four.

She’d pushed herself so far into his chest as they climbed into the clouds, and he couldn’t help but be glad she could not see the smile on his face as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. Her joyous laughter and screams as they dived towards the sea before pulling up sharply rang in his ears for the rest of that day.

“She isn’t in the mood for visitors today.”

Cassandra took a deep breath and linked her hands in front of her. “My prince, I know this marriage is one arranged by our parents, but you do us both a disservice by pushing me aside.”

Aemond cocked one eyebrow.

“People have begun to talk.”

“About?”

“Lady Alyra.”

Aemond felt rage seize his mind, “who dares to speak ill of her? She is an invaluable member of the royal family and comes from a respectable house. She has done nothing to upset anyone, those gossips need to watch their tongues before I take them.”

Cassandra fixed him with a look. “One might think she was your betrothed the way you defend her.”

Aemond remembered his mother’s pleas for him to try and woo Cassandra. He stepped forward and brushed a lock of her dark hair behind her ear letting his fingers gently graze her cheek. “I would defend you with twice the vigor, but you, my dear, do not need defending.”

“But I do, you must defend me with your actions. You alone can put a stop to the rumors.”

 Aemond hummed thoughtfully, his mind already wandering to the last time he rode Vhagar with Alyra. The way she kept a cloak wrapped around herself, feeling too exposed in her riding leathers, the curve of her legs and hips wrapped in leather only to be seen once they were high enough in the air. How she would pull his arms tighter around her when Vhagar took a turn too fast for her liking. Perhaps he would steal her away from his siblings and convince her to ride with him once more.

“Promise me you will stay away from Lady Alyra, if only in the public eye. I know she is bound to your sister; you will not be able to avoid her completely.” Cassandra’s tone was firm, her mouth set in a grim line.

Aemond let out a laugh, a sharp disbelieving sound, that made Cassandra frown.

“Aemond, I’m serious. I will not be made a fool, not by court gossips, nor by your infatuation with a serving girl.”

At that Aemond stepped back his face an unfeeling mask. “Goodbye Lady Baratheon.” He left her standing in the hall and made his way to the Dragonpit.

As he stood atop the pit, he heard Vhagar’s wings and felt the ground shake as she landed, close behind her landed his sister’s dragon Dreamfyre, her pale blue scales glimmered in the sunlight. Helaena quickly slid off her dragon, then reached a hand out for someone he could not see.

“Sister,” he called out raising one hand on greeting.

Another pair of booted feet hit the ground and Alyra joined his sister in rushing forward.

“Wonderful timing, I was looking to borrow Lady Alyra.”

Helaena tilted her head in confusion, but a small smile played at her lips. “Well, I am supposed to meet mother, I was going to give Alyra some time to herself, but if you require her help?”

Alyra moved forward, her cloak still billowing around her. “My lady, I would be more than happy to stay with you, if you need me.”

Helaena shook her head, “dragons and lions are impatient, they break trees in their haste.”

Aemond’s ears perked up, he learned long ago to heed his sister’s cryptic words. Storing her words away he made a mental note to write them down when he returned to his quarters.

Alyra seemed to be doing the same thing and he felt a sliver of pride. That’s his girl, his wife, the court just didn’t know it yet.

“Lady Alyra, your particular skill set is needed, I’m afraid I must insist.”

Alyra glanced between him and his sister, biting her bottom lip before releasing it slowly and nodding. “If it’s alright with my lady, then I’d be more than happy to assist you, Prince Aemond.”

He fought back the urge to correct her, he hated when she used his title, preferring she call him my prince, or my lord. He almost shivered at the memory of the way she said his name the night of the feast. His name sounded so perfect, like honey from her lips even though the words that followed it greatly upset them both.

Helaena nodded and began to drift away, her head in the clouds.

Alyra waited until they were alone before she spoke. “What was it that you needed, my prince?”

Aemond cocked his head towards Vhagar. “I want you to fly with me.”

Alyra seemed on the verge of laughter and tears. “Beg pardon?”

Aemond stepped closer and tilted her chin up with two fingers. “You know you never have to beg me for anything.”

Alyra’s pretty face bloomed pink and her golden eyes flitted down to his lips before they pointedly stared at the space beside his head. “I don’t see how any of my skills would assist you, I am not a dragon rider, nor am I an expert in dragons themselves.”

He found himself wanting to say something ridiculous like you’re an expert in this dragon, but he knew better, she would laugh and brush him aside assuming he was joking with her. Or worse she would pull away and run farther than before. He couldn’t have that.

“You seem to have wrangled my brother quite well.”

Alyra gave a hesitant laugh, “Prince Aegon can be quite insightful, he just needs a more understanding outlet.”

Aemond wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him the hand holding her chin moving to draw lazy circles on the exposed skin of her collarbone. “I thought you were mine? My sweet, understanding girl.”

Alyra swallowed hard and her chest brushed his as she took a deep breath. “I am bonded to your sister so it’s more as if I’m on loan.”

He hummed lowly, his hand pausing its ministrations to capture a lock of her hair. “Well then you are a loan I shall never pay back.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works my prince.” Alyra giggled, her eyes finally meeting his.

“Come fly with me, Vhagar misses you.”

As if to affirm his statement, Vhagar rustled her wings.

Alyra tapped her lips with one finger playfully as if thinking over his offer. “I mean if I will be helpful how can I refu—”

“Alyra Hawthorne.” Her uncle’s voice rang through the open air and Alyra jumped away from Aemond.

“Uncle, how wonderful to see you.” She said, rushing past Aemond and stopping in front of her uncle.

Aemond turned and watched Alyra’s uncle bow his head and speak quietly to her, he saw her body stiffen then wilt as she nodded and whispered frantically, her hands flying wildly as she spoke.

Her uncle took her by the forearm and forcefully guided her back down to the Dragonpit’s entrance leaving him standing there.

A messenger arrived with a summons from his mother, and his heart sunk.

Tag list @nyctophilic0vitnir

#aemond x oc #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #Alyra Hawthorne #2A fic #Aemond x Alyra #aemond imagine #meg's writing #2A #hotd fanfic #hbo house of the dragon #Alyra and Aegon are unlikely friends #pt series

[czenzo]

Nick and Charlie (& Nellie)

[ao3]

summary: Five times Nellie interrupts Nick and Charlie, and one time she decides to hold back.

words: 3381 rating: T

content warning: description of a dog choking (with successful recovery)

1

Nick Nelson was not a fan of mathematics, and he was appalled that he still had to do it at A-Level (what psychopath decided physics calculations should be in sports science?). Not only did it take him at least twenty minutes to complete a question involving too many numbers, but what little ability he had to do it was thrown out of the window in the presence of Charlie – so he wasn’t sure how he ever thought inviting him round to do their homework together was a good idea.

But if he was being honest, Charlie being there meant homework wasn’t his number one priority anyway.

“You’re staring again,” Charlie murmured, pen pressed against his bottom lip as he mulled over the beginnings of an essay. He lay on his stomach, head resting in one hand and legs swinging to and fro in the air in time to the music playing softly in the background.

“No I’m not,” Nick said, dragging his eyes back down to his paper. He was supposed to have been working his way through a practice exam paper in preparation for his upcoming mock exams, but in the past half an hour had only managed to get through a staggering two pages. It was safe to say his revision was not going well, and he was certain to pay the price for it later on – but at the moment he couldn’t find it in him to care.

As Charlie continued to um and ah over his essay’s introduction, it didn’t escape Nick’s notice how his curls were so long they flopped down his forehead and almost brushed his eyelashes – those dark, swooping lashes that Imogen had expressed jealousy toward more times than he could count – and every time Charlie wasn’t sure about his wording, his eyebrows knotted and his nose scrunched up in such a way that it would have been a crime for Nick to not stare.

They’d been together for almost two years, and Nick still had to regularly pinch himself.

Charlie Spring was beautiful – and Charlie Spring was his boyfriend.

He must have been a saint in a past life to be deserving of this.

“Nick,” Charlie said through soft laughter, catching his eye with a smile. Nick’s line of sight had managed to once again drift away from his paper, and once again he’d been caught red-handed.

“Sorry.” Nick gave him a toothy grin. “Can’t help myself.”

“How many questions have you got left?”

He flicked through the booklet. “At least twenty.”

“Jesus. How long do you get in the real exam?”

“An hour? I think.”

Charlie looked at him in silence.

“Now who’s the one staring?”

“Do your practice paper!” Charlie laughed, tapping on Nick’s barely-filled booklet with his pen.

“It’s very hard to revise when there’s a pretty boy in my room.”

Charlie’s cheeks flushed as he responded, “This pretty boy has been in your room hundreds of times. You should be used to it by now.”

“But he’s looking especially pretty today.”

“How about,” Charlie said, perking up, “for every question you do, you get a kiss?”

“Shit,” Nick said softly. “I can’t say no to that.”

Charlie nodded to the booklet. “Then get a move on, Nicholas.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Ten minutes later, a question had been finished, and Nick was quick to point it out and receive his reward. Charlie seemed more than happy to oblige, getting up and moving closer to Nick in the blink of an eye.

“Well done,” he murmured as Nick pulled him in close by the waist. He sunk into the touch and their lips met, falling into a rhythm like it was second nature. It was slow, smooth, and so calming that Nick felt like he could fall asleep like his, with Charlie’s hand on his cheek and the other hanging loosely off his shoulder. To hell with homework and revision – this was pure bliss, and Nick was holding onto it for as long as possible.

“Boof!”

“Nellie!” Charlie called out, pulling away and turning in the direction of the noise. The door swung open to reveal Nellie, who looked incredibly proud of herself for being able to nudge her way inside with her nose. Charlie leapt out of Nick’s arms and towards the eager canine, wasting no time in reaching to ruffle the fur around her ears and tell her what a good girl she was.

It was a wonderful sight, the love of his life doting on his beloved dog, but the tingling sensation Charlie had left on his lips was hard to ignore. No doubt once Nellie had got her dose of Charlie’s attention, Nick would have to get back to work and do a whole other exam question before he could even think about touching Charlie again. Rubbish.

Sure enough, once Nellie had received her fair share of head scratches, Charlie ushered Nick back to his paper. Nick squinted at Nellie, who simply looked back at him with a tilt of her head.

He forgave her two minutes later. It was impossible to be annoyed at a face like that for too long.

***

2

Charlie’s parents weren’t home, which was rarer than seeing Isaac without a book in his hands.

It was the first thing that had left Charlie’s mouth when he opened the door: “My parents are out. Tori’s blasting music in her room.”

A grin crept onto Nick’s face. He knew he probably looked quite silly, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Oh, really?”

“Really.” Charlie looked down and a beaming smile appeared on his face; it was so endearing that Nick barely processed what he said next. “You brought Nellie with you? Oh, hello, you lovely girl! I haven’t seen you in so long…”

Between Nellie’s yaps and Charlie’s cooing, Nick said, “Mum’s busy and Nellie needed walking. I hope that’s alright? I should’ve checked, really.”

“I would never not be okay with you bringing my favourite dog in the world, Nick.” Nellie dragged her tongue across Charlie’s face, and he cried out. “But, seriously. My parents aren’t home. Feel like taking advantage of that?”

“I would never not be okay with taking advantage of that,” Nick said. “But… Nellie?”

“Tori really likes her, even though she’d never admit it. We could leave them together for a little while.”

The second the door to Charlie’s room shut behind them, Nick had him pressed against it. The noise Charlie made when his back hit wood was utterly obscene, and Nick was quick to bring their lips together and drink it all up.

Charlie snaked his hands around Nick’s waist, finding purchase in the fabric of his t-shirt and pulling him closer. The feeling of their bodies pressed against one another was incredible – he could almost feel every dip, groove, and line of Charlie’s chest, abdomen, and hips, and when Nick’s hands carefully dipped beneath fabric and brushed against bare skin, it was burning hot.

“Nick,” Charlie whispered. He could barely hear him over the sound of Tori’s music from the next room. Nick felt fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, and obligingly lifted his arms to help Charlie pull it off. The air nipped at his exposed torso, but he was back on Charlie so quickly he didn’t care about the chill.

Charlie took a step forward, pressing further into Nick and guiding them both towards the bed. Nick felt the mattress against the backs of his knees and stopped, but Charlie pushed and clambered on top of him, leaning down to scatter kisses across his chest.

Nick bit down on his lip to avoid making too much noise, and eventually flipped them over. It was then that he suddenly remembered how much bigger he was than Charlie. Broader shoulders, thicker waist, stronger arms… From how Charlie’s eyes widened, it seemed he’d come to the same realisation.

Their lips met again, and slid messily over one another, tongues intertwining as Nick slowly lowered his body down. He shivered as Charlie’s nails dragged gentle patterns across his bare back, then moved to latch onto his neck. Charlie froze.

“Is this okay?” Nick murmured.

“Yes. Yes.”

Nick kissed, nipped, and sucked at the tender flesh beneath Charlie’s jaw, while one free hand toyed with the curls atop of his head. Charlie writhed and whined underneath Nick’s touch. He kept going – kept kissing, sucking, hoping to leave a mark, hoping Charlie would find it just as hot as he did—

“Boof!”

Scratching came from behind the door; it was the familiar sound of Nellie’s claws desperately scrabbling at wood. Nick paused, then grimaced at the line of spit that formed when he pulled away.

“Oh.” Charlie laughed softly. “I think she misses you.”

“I feel cruel for shutting her out, now. But you’re— you look so—”

“We can do this another time.” He moved to give Nick one last, deep kiss, then tossed Nick his t-shirt on the way to the door.

Nellie bounded in as soon as the door was open an inch and circled Charlie before beelining to Nick. He was thrilled to see her so happy, but a horrible pang in his chest reminded him that it’d be a long time before they had Charlie’s house (almost) to themselves again.

A big, sloppy lick to the face stopped him from regretting bringing Nellie. She was far too sweet to leave behind, and Charlie’s face always lit up around her.

The hickey could wait until next time.

***

3

“It’s so sunny today!” Nick exclaimed as he let Nellie off her leash. She immediately began to run circles around them and roll around in the grass. “Are we sure we’re still in England?”

“Don’t jinx it,” Charlie said as he smoothed out the blanket. Nick had survived one of his harder exams today, so they’d decided to take advantage of the weather and celebrate with a picnic.

Nick laid back and soaked up the sun. “I wish it was always like this.”

“I don’t! I like jumpers and hot chocolate way too much for that.”

“Opposites really do attract,” Nick said, propping himself up on his forearms and squinting at his boyfriend. “Did we pack the custard creams?”

“Of course. It isn’t a proper picnic without them.”

Nick stretched out an arm and half-heartedly tried to reach for the bag of food. “Oh, but they’re so far away.”

“Doing an exam isn’t a good excuse for being lazy,” Charlie laughed, but he retrieved the biscuits anyway. Nick heard the packaging rustling and he sat up, only to find Charlie holding a biscuit up to him. “Here.”

With a teasing smile on his face, Nick leant forward and took a bite from it, lips barely missing Charlie’s fingers. Regret sunk in immediately; that was probably a really weird thing to do, and now Charlie was going to be grossed out and – no. Charlie was smiling. Blushing.

Okay.

Okay.

He finished chewing, then cautiously leant back in to take the rest of the biscuit between his teeth. Charlie’s fingers trembled ever so slightly, and he kissed the tip of one before drawing back.

“Is it weird,” Charlie said slowly, “that I kind of liked that?”

“No,” Nick said around a mouthful of custard cream.

“Is it weird that I kind of want to do it again?”

He contemplated this for a short moment. “No.”

Charlie took another biscuit in hand and held it out. Nick caught his eye, leaned in, and a flurry of fur suddenly sped past, stealing the biscuit mid-jump.

“Nellie!” Charlie cried, clutching his stomach. “Oh God, can she even have those?”

Nick jumped to his feet, and Nellie’s tail wagged at the excitement of a chase. “Come back! Give me that!”

As he frantically chased her down, Charlie’s laughter was music to his ears, and helped soften the disappointment of having yet another moment interrupted.

***

4

“Here you go Nel,” Nick said as he filled the food bowl. Nellie barked and immediately dove in, wolfing the meat down as if she hadn’t been fed for days. Nick scoffed affectionately and scratched her between the ears, but it was cut short by the sudden chime of the doorbell. Nick practically ran to answer it.

“Char,” he said with a grin. Charlie was wearing one of his many stolen jumpers; the sleeves almost completely hid his fingers and the neck gaped around his collarbone, but Nick thought he looked fantastic.

“Where’s your mum?” Charlie said as he stepped inside and yanked off his shoes.

“Had to go and grab some bits for tonight’s dinner. How do you feel about spaghetti?”

Charlie scowled. “I hate spaghetti, Nick. You should know that.”

“Oh— er, shit. I’m so—”

Abrupt laughter cut him off. “I’m kidding! I’m sorry. Your face – you looked so guilty! I’m sorry, Nick. I love spaghetti.” He reached up on his toes to kiss the tip of Nick’s nose, then left one on his lips for good measure.

“You got me,” Nick said, wrapping his arms around Charlie’s waist and pulling him in close. Seeing his boyfriend’s cheeks redden like that would never get old.

“I’ve missed you,” Charlie murmured.

“You saw me a few days ago.”

“I know. I don’t care.”

“We’re disgusting.”

“I know,” Charlie said. He smirked, then added, “But I don’t care.”

Nick wasn’t sure how many times they’d kissed. Hundreds? No. Thousands? More? Either way, kissing Charlie was still as exciting as the first time. His heart raced. He melted into Charlie’s touch. He laid his hands on both sides of his face and kissed him deeply, savouring the taste and the feeling of Charlie’s fingers on the nape of his neck.

They pressed closely together, and—

A strange choking noise came from the kitchen. A hack, then a breathy whine. Choking. Choking—

“Oh my god,” Nick said, running back into the kitchen.

Nellie was by her bowl, hunched up and convulsing as she choked on her food. Nick fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her chest, hoping and praying that the manoeuvre was the same for dogs as it was for humans, and cursing himself for never researching how to deal with this just in case.

Pure panic washed over him as he pulled Nellie close and rhythmically pressed against her chest, desperately trying to dislodge the meat stuck in her throat, while nearby Charlie spoke to the vet’s emergency line. He’d thank him immensely afterwards, but for now Nellie was the only thing he could see.

She struggled and writhed and whined, but with enough movement, was eventually able to hack the food back up. Nick fell limp and held tightly onto her.

“You were incredible,” Charlie said as he knelt beside them. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Nick hoped Nellie’s fur would hide his tears. “Thank you.”

***

5

He’d known he was moving away for uni for a long while. He’d had time to prepare. He’d had time to work out how to deal with it. He’d had so much time to spend with his boyfriend before he had to leave him.

Yet saying goodbye to Charlie was unbearable.

All of his stuff had been packed tetris-style into his car, and all that was left was for him to hop in and drive away, but Charlie had come to wave him off and it was like a magnet was stopping them from pulling apart.

They clung to one another like their lives depended on it. In a way, they almost did.

“I’ll miss you so much,” Charlie said against his shoulder. “But you’re gonna have an amazing time. I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you,” was all Nick could think to say. Charlie pulled back to look him in the eyes, and Nick didn’t miss the tear tracks on his cheeks. He was sure there were some on his own, too.

“I love you too. Go out there and show Leeds how incredible you are.”

Nick gave him a wobbly smile. “I will.”

His mum and Charlie walked him to his car, and once he stopped beside it, he took a deep, shaky breath.

“You’ll be amazing, Nicky.” His mum pressed a kiss to his forehead and held him tight. “Let me know when you’ve arrived, okay? Remember I’m always just a call away.”

“I will. I know. Love you, mum.”

“Love you, sweetheart. You won’t need it, but good luck! I’ll leave you boys to it.”

“So,” Charlie said once they found themselves alone.

Nick sniffed. “So.”

“We shouldn’t drag this out. It’ll make it worse.”

“You’re right. Come here.” Nick dragged him close before he could even respond. Charlie’s weight and warmth were so familiar, so comforting to him, he wasn’t sure how he’d survive without it. He was going to find a way, he reminded himself. He was going to become his own person. He was going to be amazing.

Charlie shook against him, and Nick rubbed soothing circles into his back. “We’ll be okay.”

He pulled back and framed Charlie’s face in his hands, looking into those eyes that had become just as familiar to him as his own. He leant in, eyes fluttering closed, preparing himself for what would be their last kiss for, God, he didn’t even know how long, and—

Bark!

Nellie bounded through the door and towards the car, throwing herself at Nick for one last goodbye. When she noticed Charlie’s tears, she threw herself at him, too, and Charlie seemed to find solace in the softness of her fur.

As Nick drove away, he watched his boyfriend and best friend comfort each other in the rearview mirror, and blinked away the blurriness of his tears.

***

+ 1

My big brother is coming home today.

He’s been gone for a while. I don’t know why. When he left Charlie held me really tight. I love Charlie. He’s been coming to visit while my brother is gone. He made biscuits with my mum (and I wasn’t allowed any).

Charlie’s here today. So is mum, and my other brother (who isn’t as nice), and lots of other people who scratch behind my ears and give me treats. There are lights everywhere, and a tree full of shiny things! I would like to have one of the shiny things.

There’s music, and singing, and food (some of it’s for me!), and people and laughter. It’s cold outside, but inside it’s warm.

Charlie’s sitting on the stairs. He’s watching the door. There’s a mug in his hands, but he’s not drinking from it. He looks nervous, but I don’t know why. He checks his phone (he’s been doing that a lot today).

I trot over to him and yap to get his attention. He looks up and smiles! I love Charlie’s smile. He gives me good scratches and calls me a good girl and I decide I’m going to sit beside him on the stairs. He keeps one hand on my head and stares at the door some more. I stare at it too. I hope I’m helping.

The door handle moves. Charlie jumps up, and I bark bark bark – who is it? Who is it?! Charlie wrenches the door open and— it’s my big brother! My big brother is home!

I bark and bark and bark and people come into the hallway to see what’s happening and I watch as Charlie hugs my big brother.

I want to run up to my big brother and say hello. I want to see his face up close. I want him to scratch behind my ears and tell me I’m a good girl! I want to tell him how much I’ve missed him.

But Charlie is holding onto my brother very tightly. He looks like he doesn’t want to let go.

Charlie is crying.

I think my big brother is, too.

I will wait. I will let Nick and Charlie say hello first. I will be a good girl.

They are kissing. I don’t understand that. Licking is easier.

My big brother wipes away Charlie’s tears and hugs him again.

And then he turns to me.

“Nellie! Oh, I’ve missed you so much – come here!”

He holds out his arms. I run into them.

I love my big brother.

#heartstopper #heartstopper fic #nick nelson #charlie spring #narlie #nellie nelson #czenzo.fic

[demiclar]

Eavesdropping

Eavesdropping - Ao3

Osiris listens in on one of Saint's conversations.

-----

There are moments where Osiris lingers, unable to move. He stands concealed between the bookshelves of his former student’s library, listening to her speak of secrets to her agents. Everything in him wants to announce his presence and yet he stands in silence. He remembers every moment Savathûn did the same thing and his body forces itself into stillness. When Ikora finds him minutes later, trembling against one of her many bookcases, he manages to find the words to tell her he had not meant to eavesdrop. He begs her pardon and tries to apologize but Ikora keeps so few secrets from him now, there is no harm done by his listening in. It is a kindness and a trust he feels he has not earned, because there is a part of him that will always believe he is to blame for Savathûn’s capture of him. His own foolishness is to blame for Savathûn’s victories, for the death of so many people.

Osiris hates to eavesdrop because Savathûn utilized the practice as a method of war. Before her, Osiris would have eavesdropped if it was beneficial to him. He never denied information, no matter the form it came to him in. Turning away darker informants and discolored sources of information was a task left to those with a stronger moral code, not something Osiris ever concerned himself with. Now, he cringes to hear even a word that isn’t directed at him.

He informs the Commander the door to his office is not quite soundproof, and that he should remedy that immediately. He tells Ikora her study is not nearly secure enough. None of it is enough. They look at him the way one views a hypochondriac, with veiled disdain and pity. Once bitten and twice shy, he worries constantly.

It has threatened to drive him to a breaking point. Despite the happiness that just comes with being awake, being alive after everything Savathûn did to him, he carries pain and trauma with him. It is a constant weight, and sometimes it overcomes him. It is a mix of a great deal of things, the memory of pain, of Savathûn pulling through his memories, reaching into his mind. He remembers how it felt to lose himself in her vast knowledge, something that had once seemed like a boon, only for him to realize too late it was like stepping from a spacecraft without a tether.

He is not without support, Saint and Crow do a great deal. Ikora helps where she can. He has spoken a great deal with Eris. When Osiris feels the talons of Savathûn’s claws on his very mind, Crow sits with him, and it comforts something in him to know that he understands something of what Osiris is reliving. Saint holds him when he feels adrift, wraps his Light around him when he aches for everything he’s lost, when he feels consumed by Darkness. Still, his problems will not be solved by comforting gestures.

Weeks after he first woke, Osiris lies alone in his bed, the sounds of voices drifting under the bedroom door. He does not want to listen, and yet he does so anyways. He cannot help it.

“How are you?” It’s Crow’s voice, more frequently heard around the apartment than Osiris’ own, when he spends so many hours in silence. “I know we’ve all been worried about Osiris, but it must be an adjustment for you, too. And taking care of him hasn’t been easy for you.”

“It is the only thing I want.” Osiris’ partner responds. He can hear noises beyond the door, a mug being set down on the counter. “But, you are right. It is far from easy. I hate to see him in pain. There is much he still struggles with. He is afraid, sometimes of eating, sometimes of sleeping, sometimes of being alone, sometimes of being in my company.” He can hear Saint’s labored sigh, even when he tries to temper it. Osiris feels his gut twist. He is a burden, a pain, nothing but a drain of Saint’s time and energy. He is a resource sink and a parasite, nothing but a broken man grasping at the threads of his former life. It would have been kinder to his partner if he’d never woken at all.

“I do not understand all of it.” Saint continues, his words reaching Osiris even in the face of his self-loathing spiral. “But that does not matter. None of it. I would endure a thousand struggles to be with him, and he is getting better. Do you remember when you made him laugh yesterday, little bird?” The reverence in his voice halts every thought in Osiris’ mind. “I’ve not seen him smile like that in centuries.”

They’d been out in the city. With the winter falling over the landscape, Saint has been persistent in getting them into the holiday spirit. Osiris’ strength had finally allowed a longer outing, so they’d bundled themselves up in coats and scarves and ventured out into the cold. They’d bought hot apple cider from a street vendor and watched a group of human children teach a group of Eliksni children about snowball fights, leading them into what had turned from a fight to a war. Shrieks of laughter and giggles had filled the park, and Osiris, Saint, and Crow had looked on with smiles on their faces. Osiris had felt warm all over. He’d sipped his cider and smiled at the children until Crow had cracked a joke that had caused Osiris to laugh, to actually laugh, real and unforced for the first time in what felt like forever. When was the last time he had reason to laugh?

“To see him smile, to watch him laugh, you see his wit now, don’t you?” He can hear the smile in Saint’s voice now, warm and loving, fondness that makes every part of Osiris feel embraced and warm. “That is my Osiris. My phoenix. He is brilliant. Even the Witch Queen could not extinguish his flame.” Osiris draws in a deep breath, he feels himself slip from the bed, his body seeming to move of its own accord.

“I am well.” Saint tells Crow, and Osiris can hear the truth of it in his tone.

He pads to the bedroom door, opening it before he can second guess himself. Saint and Crow turn as soon as he steps out, and it isn’t until he sees the worry in Saint’s face that he realizes there are tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, wiping at his eyes. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop–”

Saint’s worry fades into a knowing smile, and then he’s standing in front of Osiris, his hands on Osiris’ shoulders. Osiris feels another wave of tears force themselves out of his eyes.

“I love you.” He croaks as Saint gathers him into his arms. Saint presses a kiss to the top of Osiris’ head. “I love you.” His words are twisted by tears, tense and shaking, and Saint shushes him gently.

“I know, my love.” Saint breathes. He holds Osiris close, running his hands over his back and pressing kisses to his head, to his brow. “I love you, too.”

#destiny game #destiny 2 #destiny o14 #destiny osiris #destiny saint 14 #destcember2022 #destcember #destiny fanfiction #demiwrites

[eulcgizeme]

OPEN TO: @stayliquid for sawyer bettancourt MUSE: sullivan james, twenty-nine. lead singer and bassist for shelved saints. dylan o'brien fc. PLOT: the band gets a break in one city, and they all go off to do their own thing. sullivan lands himself in a bar with an open mic in the middle of the week, taking advantage to sing a song he never would on stage.

"Are you sleeping, still dreaming up, still drifting off alone?" Sullivan sang softly out into the bar. "We're not talking, there's no secrets, there's just a note that you have gone and all that you ever owned is packed in the hall to go." It was dull in the middle of week, patrons looking for a softer escape than a lively one. He found his place with ease away from the tension that cut him every night on stage and tour promotion. The guitar hummed against his body as he played, but it only justified what he wrote from his chest. He'd never play it anywhere else, but he needed to set it free. "And how am I supposed to live without you? A wrong word said in anger and you were gone." Sullivan's song had taken off from those words, meant for someone else who had left him so suddenly and lost. He thought Stevie had been everything, and it took time to accept that after that loss he had lost her, too. A memoriam for his best friend had turned into a eulogy to what he had sacrificed with Sawyer as a means of keeping his memory intact. He let them break as a means of keeping Stevie a saint, ignoring that the night that took his life had nearly taken theirs, too. "I'm not listening for your signals, it's all dust now on the shelf," He continued, guitar strums cutting into his fingertips with the softest sting of bliss. "Are you still working? You still counting? You still buried in yourself? And how in the world did we come to have such an absent love?"

#sullivan james x sawyer bettancourt 009 #ch: sullivan james #stayliquid.

[electricshoebox]

has anyone asked about the red dead redemption grief meditation? 👀

Hi friend!! I did just post about it here, but I'll share another excerpt! This will be more along the lines of what you'd expect. Cut again for spoilers.

Charles didn’t count the days after he buried Arthur in the mountains. They drifted one into another in an aimless collection of time that meant nothing to Charles at all, and passed like the broken scenes of a dream. Bounty posters in Annesberg took him to back alleys in Valentine. He lifted boxes and guarded carriages, and took money from men whose faces he’d forget to steal jewelry and lock boxes on the road to Emerald Ranch. The further south he wandered, the less the seasons changed, and the longer the nights grew. He passed through weeks and months like a shadow. It meant nothing at all.

He tried not to think of Arthur, or risk tumbling backward into the pit of grief in his stomach and losing himself there. He tried not to think of the empty spaces Arthur should fill---the missing warmth at Charles’ back as he slept, the comment under his breath that would’ve won him a laugh, the quiet scratch of a pencil behind him as he built a campfire. But of course, every town he passed through held some piece of Arthur, some memory that ambushed Charles when he wasn’t ready for it. Arthur flying through the saloon window to the mud-soaked Valentine street, barely throwing up his fists in time as some burly local came stomping out after him. A deputy pin on Arthur’s vest glinting in the midday sun in Rhodes. Charles’ last glimpse of Arthur’s face before he marched into the open in the dockyards of Saint Denis, leading the deputies away from the boat that would carry them out to sea.

Maybe this was all that Charles would ever be, a shell of memories he couldn’t share.

How much time had passed? It could have been yesterday he was ducking behind crates at Arthur’s side, dressed in a suit worth more than he was. It could have been another lifetime. 

He couldn’t remember what even carried him to the dirty bowels of Saint Denis, the city Arthur hated. One sticky summer morning turned into another, one job blurred into the next, until he could almost believe he’d never done anything in his life but throw fights in the back alleys. All he’d wanted to do since the day he left the Grizzlies was hit something anyway. Even if he ended up taking more hits than he gave, he could still imagine it was Micah’s jaw under his fist, or Dutch’s. And sometimes, that was almost enough.  How did he get here? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

[Send me a WIP from this list and I'll give you a preview or share a summary.]

#ask memes #wip meme #charthur #RDR2

[irrfahrer]

𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓  𝟓  𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐓𝐎  𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄.

1.     “Scarlet Vow” By Aviators Lock your doors She's coming back even out the score Vengeful spirits do her dark commands In the devil's hands Now the fire's in her breath Scarlet vow Taken by the girl who you cast out You're not the only one with chants to sing Or a prayer to bring But her patron saint is death

2.     "Break Me Down" By Divide Music I begin to unravel the truth Behind a facet coarse to the touch My eyes could not believe the sight You think you're dreaming, but nothing could be quite so cold Don't wanna feed it, keep holding on your marigolds They're so deceiving, only looking for a door to close Just hold on The promise that I made to always go the lengths To help those in need of my strength Won't back down, will rise against No matter the consequence They try to break me down They try to break me down Nothing will ever break me down Will ever break me down 3.     "Take the Dive" By JT Music   Takes one to know one, and I'm a survivor When it comes to my drive, simply staying alive Is just the tip of the iceberg So if you take a look under the surface Your craving for adventure serves a purpose Why wait around? I've found that taking the dive Gives you more of a rush than simply drifting with the tide If your heart should slow, and your blood run cold Take another look inside You might be surprised to find somebody Who's longing to take the dive 4.   "Dreaming of Me”   —    JT Music I thought I was already at the bottom of the bottle, but I never stopped sinking Then I got washed up in a lost city, it's not pretty, but I got a good feelin' That I'm gonna finally unpack all my baggage, even if I'm in a sleepwalk, dreamin' I don't wanna know what's in the water, but it's gotta be toxic and everybody's drinkin' On the brink of a mental collapse, afflicted with dissonant madness Wrapped up in tentacles, trapped in a prison or is it a passage? 'Cause whenever I'm closing my eyes I'm letting her open my mind To look into the void, I don't have a choice, so I hold my breath 'cause I'm goin' inside 5.    "Diving in too Deep”    —    NerdOut Waves crash with anxiety Another sleepless night Long way from society Lucky I'm aliveYeah I know I'm far from home But I'll survive I'm jumping right in To the depths Just hold my breath Not going without a fight

 &  𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓  𝟓  𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐓𝐎  𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄. 

1.          “Every so often, the universe must just get bored and decide to really cut loose.”   ―      Joe Schreiber,            “Red Harvest”  

2.    “   She looked at him and shook her head. ‘I feel like a hulder.’ He’d heard the word before, in Norway. ‘Aren’t they a kind of troll?’ ‘No they are mountain creatures, like the trolls, but they come from the woods, and they are very beautiful. Like me.’ She grinned as she said it, as if she knew that she was too pallid, too sulky and too thin to ever to be beautiful. ‘They fall in love with farmers.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Damned if I know,’ she said. ‘But they do. Sometimes the farmer realises that he is talking to a hulder woman, because she has a cow’s tail hanging down behind, or worse, sometimes from behind there is nothing there, she is just hollow and empty, like a shell. Then the farmer says a prayer, or runs away, flees back to his mother or his farm.‘But sometimes the farmers do not run. Sometimes they throw a knife over her shoulder, or just smile, and they marry the huldra woman. Then her tail falls off. But she is still stronger than any human woman could ever be. And she still pines for her home in the forests and the mountains. She will never truly be happy. She will never be human.’     —    Neil Gaiman Abendsen,     “Monarch of the Glen” .   

3.    “   Complete loneliness was the worst state I could imagine just then. Alone, one would be nothing. Company meant purpose, and purpose helped to keep the morbid fears at bay. Until then I had always thought of loneliness as something negative—an absence of company, and, of course, something temporary…. That day I had learned that it was much more. It was something which could press and oppress, could distort the ordinary and play tricks with the mind. Something which lurked inimically all around, stretching the nerves and twanging them with alarms, never letting one forget that there was no one to help, no one to care.  ”    —     John Wyndham,     “The Day of the Triffids” . 

4.            “Resistance is an innate trait of human nature. Resistance to base behaviour. Opposition to wickedness. A refusal to accept evil. They are innate, immanent human traits. Ergo, only individuals entirely bereft of humanity do not resist. Only blackguards become turncoats out of fear of torture.' 'So?' 'So,' said Horn, without even blinking an eye, arms folded on his chest, 'sign the loyalty oath and agree to collaborate. Go to Bohemia, as they command. And when you're there-   Resist.”      —    Andrzej Sapkowski,     “Lux perpetua” .   

5.       “Never fear the darkness. The strongest trees are rooted in the dark places of the earth. Darkness will be your cloak, your shield, your mother’s milk. Darkness will make you strong.”  ”    —     G.R.R Martin,     “A Dance with Dragons” .

Tagging: The Force   Tagging: @sithisms  @retrocognizantrecreant @mando-of-esverr @lighthouseborn @peacefaithed @wild-spxce @starfaithed @lessthantwelve @talesgolden @retrocognizantrecreant @cnlyluck @onehell-of-apilot @skysnipsw  @space-hecate @asycuwish @skyler-bane @hopexncarnate @starfaithed  @beskar-himbo @cicatrise @arachnoheaux @kylo-wrecked @ofthestcrs @honorhunt  @lady-proudmoore @khenobi @savior-of-humanity @bracca-scrapper @starfaithed @stillfocvsed @builtonhoope @gildedcommander @fallesto @outcaststar @jedilovcd @poewingsdameron @cardinal-carvings   @jeedang @smertzimy @kyberllcore  @cfmartyrs  @vicicus @luminousxbeings  @thaneirstaer @admrl @notsith   @gwiazdowe @lvkexskywvlker @drabbles-n-doodles  @preempire @ad-maius-bonum @therabidcur  @ariadne-inthesky @archaeotech @sxbaist @lightfaithed @unascend @trueheartofarebel  @protectxthem    @hunters-house @peacefaithed  @masterofthelivingforce @ofthestcrs  @startrailed @bladelancer @thelightsabcr @empatiaa   @wartornpilot @hosnianleft @rcfekjwtaardby@protectxthem  @sithdestined   @honorhunt  @safrona-shadowsun  @stubborn-amphibian @rabldcur  @ncxile  @skywlkrr @vsoatahn @jedixamidala @chromium-siren @aetcrnus  @savesgalaxy @cnlyluck @thestupidmeanone @fatewills…and everyone else who wants to do the prompt!  

#the quotes make me laugh- ziv is just the most edgy space-farmer asdfghjk #I mean SHE IS A HORROR MUSE #I am just not having much horror here #headcanon #irrfahrer

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

6th July >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Wednesday, Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time

    or 

Saint Maria Goretti, Virgin, Martyr

    or 

Saint Moninne, Virgin.

Wednesday, Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green)

First Reading

Hosea 10:1-3,7-8,12

Seek integrity and reap a harvest of kindness.

Israel was a luxuriant vine yielding plenty of fruit. The more his fruit increased, the more altars he built; the richer his land became, the richer he made the sacred stones. Their heart is a divided heart; very well, they must pay for it: the Lord is going to break their altars down and destroy their sacred stones. Then they will say, ‘We have no king because we have not feared the Lord.’

But what can a king do for us? Samaria has had her day. Her king is like a straw drifting on the water. The idolatrous high places shall be destroyed – that sin of Israel; thorn and thistle will grow on their altars. Then they will say to the mountains, ‘Cover us!’ and to the hills, ‘Fall on us!’

Sow integrity for yourselves, reap a harvest of kindness, break up your fallow ground: it is time to go seeking the Lord until he comes to rain salvation on you.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 104(105):2-7

R/ Constantly seek the face of the Lord. or R/ Alleluia!

O sing to the Lord, sing his praise;    tell all his wonderful works! Be proud of his holy name,    let the hearts that seek the Lord rejoice.

R/ Constantly seek the face of the Lord. or R/ Alleluia!

Consider the Lord and his strength;    constantly seek his face. Remember the wonders he has done,    his miracles, the judgements he spoke.

R/ Constantly seek the face of the Lord. or R/ Alleluia!

O children of Abraham, his servant,    O sons of the Jacob he chose. He, the Lord, is our God:    his judgements prevail in all the earth.

R/ Constantly seek the face of the Lord. or R/ Alleluia!

Gospel Acclamation

James1:18

Alleluia, alleluia! By his own choice the Father made us his children by the message of the truth, so that we should be a sort of first-fruits of all that he created. Alleluia!

Or:

Mark 1:15

Alleluia, alleluia! The kingdom of God is close at hand: repent and believe the Good News. Alleluia!

Gospel

Matthew 10:1-7

'Go to the lost sheep of the House of Israel'.

Jesus summoned his twelve disciples, and gave them authority over unclean spirits with power to cast them out and to cure all kinds of diseases and sickness.

   These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon who is called Peter, and his brother Andrew; James the son of Zebedee, and his brother John; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas, and Matthew the tax collector; James the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot, the one who was to betray him. These twelve Jesus sent out, instructing them as follows:

   ‘Do not turn your steps to pagan territory, and do not enter any Samaritan town; go rather to the lost sheep of the House of Israel. And as you go, proclaim that the kingdom of heaven is close at hand.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saint Maria Goretti, Virgin, Martyr

(Liturgical Colour: Red)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Wednesday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

1 Corinthians 6:13-15,17-20

Do not sin against your own body.

The body is not meant for fornication: it is for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. God, who raised the Lord from the dead, will by his power raise us up too.

   You know, surely, that your bodies are members making up the body of Christ; do you think I can take parts of Christ’s body and join them to the body of a prostitute? Never! But anyone who is joined to the Lord is one spirit with him.

   Keep away from fornication. All the other sins are committed outside the body; but to fornicate is to sin against your own body. Your body, you know, is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you since you received him from God. You are not your own property; you have been bought and paid for. That is why you should use your body for the glory of God.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 30(31):3-6,8,16-17

R/ Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.

Be a rock of refuge for me,    a mighty stronghold to save me, for you are my rock, my stronghold.    For your name’s sake, lead me and guide me.

R/ Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.

Into your hands I commend my spirit.    It is you who will redeem me, Lord. As for me, I trust in the Lord:    let me be glad and rejoice in your love.

R/ Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.

My life is in your hands, deliver me    from the hands of those who hate me. Let your face shine on your servant.    Save me in your love.

R/ Into your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.

Gospel Acclamation

James 1:12

Alleluia, alleluia! Happy the man who stands firm, for he has proved himself, and will win the crown of life. Alleluia!

Gospel

John 12:24-26

If a grain of wheat falls on the ground and dies, it yields a rich harvest.

Jesus said to his disciples:

‘I tell you, most solemnly, unless a wheat grain falls on the ground and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest. Anyone who loves his life loses it; anyone who hates his life in this world will keep it for the eternal life. If a man serves me, he must follow me, wherever I am, my servant will be there too. If anyone serves me, my Father will honour him.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saint Moninne, Virgin

Liturgical Colour: White.

Readings at Mass

Readings for the memorial

There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Wednesday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise.

________

EITHER: --------

First reading Song of Songs 8:6-7 The flash of love is a flame of the Lord himself

Set me like a seal on your heart, like a seal on your arm. For love is strong as Death, jealousy as relentless as Sheol. The flash of it is a flash of fire, a flame of the Lord himself. Love no floods can quench, no torrents drown.

Were a man to offer all the wealth of his house to buy love, contempt is all he would purchase.

OR: --------

First reading Hosea 2:16,17,21-22 I will betroth you to myself for ever

The Lord says this:

I am going to lead her out into the wilderness and speak to her heart. There she will respond to me as she did when she was young, as she did when she came out of the land of Egypt. I will betroth you to myself for ever, betroth you with integrity and justice, with tenderness and love; I will betroth you to myself with faithfulness, and you will come to know the Lord.

-------- ________

EITHER: --------

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 44(45):11-12,14-17

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words. or The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet Christ the Lord.

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words:    forget your own people and your father’s house. So will the king desire your beauty:    He is your lord, pay homage to him.

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words. or The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet Christ the Lord.

The daughter of the king is clothed with splendour,    her robes embroidered with pearls set in gold. She is led to the king with her maiden companions.

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words. or The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet Christ the Lord.

They are escorted amid gladness and joy;    they pass within the palace of the king. Sons shall be yours in place of your fathers:    you will make them princes over all the earth.

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words. or The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet Christ the Lord.

OR: --------

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 148:1-2,11-14

Your glory fills all heaven and earth. or Alleluia!

Praise the Lord from the heavens,    praise him in the heights. Praise him, all his angels,    praise him, all his host.

Your glory fills all heaven and earth. or Alleluia!

All earth’s kings and peoples,    earth’s princes and rulers, young men and maidens,    old men together with children.

Your glory fills all heaven and earth. or Alleluia!

Let them praise the name of the Lord    for he alone is exalted. The splendour of his name    reaches beyond heaven and earth.

Your glory fills all heaven and earth. or Alleluia!

He exalts the strength of his people.    He is the praise of all his saints, of the sons of Israel,    of the people to whom he comes close.

Your glory fills all heaven and earth. or Alleluia!

-------- ________

Gospel Acclamation Jn14:23

Alleluia, alleluia! If anyone loves me he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we shall come to him. Alleluia!

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia! This is the wise virgin whom the Lord found watching; she went in to the wedding feast with him when he came. Alleluia!

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia! Come, bride of Christ, and receive the crown which the Lord has prepared for you for ever. Alleluia!

________

EITHER: --------

Gospel Matthew 19:3-12 Husband and wife are no longer two, but one body

Some Pharisees approached Jesus, and to test him they said, ‘Is it against the Law for a man to divorce his wife on any pretext whatever?’ He answered, ‘Have you not read that the creator from the beginning made them male and female and that he said: This is why a man must leave father and mother, and cling to his wife, and the two become one body? They are no longer two, therefore, but one body. So then, what God has united, man must not divide.’    They said to him, ‘Then why did Moses command that a writ of dismissal should be given in cases of divorce?’ ‘It was because you were so unteachable’ he said ‘that Moses allowed you to divorce your wives, but it was not like this from the beginning. Now I say this to you: the man who divorces his wife – I am not speaking of fornication – and marries another, is guilty of adultery.’    The disciples said to him, ‘If that is how things are between husband and wife, it is not advisable to marry.’ But he replied, ‘It is not everyone who can accept what I have said, but only those to whom it is granted. There are eunuchs born that way from their mother’s womb, there are eunuchs made so by men and there are eunuchs who have made themselves that way for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let anyone accept this who can.’

OR: --------

Gospel Matthew 25:1-13 The wise and foolish virgins

Jesus told this parable to his disciples: ‘The kingdom of heaven will be like this: Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were sensible: the foolish ones did take their lamps, but they brought no oil, whereas the sensible ones took flasks of oil as well as their lamps. The bridegroom was late, and they all grew drowsy and fell asleep. But at midnight there was a cry, “The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet him.” At this, all those bridesmaids woke up and trimmed their lamps, and the foolish ones said to the sensible ones, “Give us some of your oil: our lamps are going out.” But they replied, “There may not be enough for us and for you; you had better go to those who sell it and buy some for yourselves.” They had gone off to buy it when the bridegroom arrived. Those who were ready went in with him to the wedding hall and the door was closed. The other bridesmaids arrived later. “Lord, Lord,” they said “open the door for us.” But he replied, “I tell you solemnly, I do not know you.” So stay awake, because you do not know either the day or the hour.’

OR: --------

Gospel Luke 10:38-42 Martha works; Mary listens

Jesus came to a village, and a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. She had a sister called Mary, who sat down at the Lord’s feet and listened to him speaking. Now Martha who was distracted with all the serving said, ‘Lord, do you not care that my sister is leaving me to do the serving all by myself? Please tell her to help me.’ But the Lord answered: ‘Martha, Martha,’ he said ‘you worry and fret about so many things, and yet few are needed, indeed only one. It is Mary who has chosen the better part; it is not to be taken from her.’

[mrsalwayswrite]

Sinners and Saints (Sihtric x reader)

Summary: One day you stumble upon your childhood friend, Osferth, whom you have not seen in years. Yet the more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself drawn to his companion, Sihtric….and the butterflies his dark eyes give you.

This is my contribution to @emilyhufflepufftlk 100 followers challenge! Congratulations again! I’m so happy for you! 

My prompt was - "Love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints." - Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton (in bold within the story)

Words: 5500

Warnings: A couple of swear words, fluff, my poor attempts at humor, Osferth being a good bro. 

Tag List: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @flowers-in-your-hayr​

This gorgeous moodboard was made by @flowers-in-your-hayr​. All credit goes to her! 

"...so there she was, aye, and next thing I know, she flips 'er dress up and I see the most perfect set of…."

 "I'm going to be sick." Osferth mumbled to himself, trying to block out Finan's retelling of his prior night. To the laughter of his companions, he started to push away from the outdoor table at the alehouse. He was no virgin anymore, Finan and Uhtred had seen to that, but he still felt squeamish when listening to their stories of recent conquests. His mother's voice whispered in the back of his mind, things she had told him before her passing, about respect and love. Plus, he could not help but think that this idea of conquests, of women's worth derived from what pleasure a man could take from their bodies, was what brought bastards into this world….like him. 

 "Alright, Finan, we get it. You saw the arse of a goat and couldn't help yourself." Uhtred teased, slinging an arm around Osferth so he could not escape them- most likely to find a church and pray for their souls. 

 "Oi, lord! Ya know that was one time!" Finan feigned mock-outrage, making Uhtred and Sihtric laugh. 

 Osferth put a hand over his eyes as if that would somehow block the image from his mind. Something he desperately did not want there. 

 "How much longer are we here, lord?" Sihtric asked, changing the subject, while twirling a dagger between his hands fluidly. 

 Although Osferth would never admit it aloud, and God forgive him, it was hard not to be jealous of how easily his companions handled their weapons like they had been born with weapons in hand. They continued to tell him it was practice. Recently though, he decided it was a gift that he clearly did not have. 

 "Until I feel satisfied with the training of Lord Godwin's fyrd and his defenses." Uhtred stated indifferently, as if it was something he had to repeat to himself often. 

 "Ya think King Alfred knew how much of a horse's arse Lord Godwin is?"

 Uhtred glanced up, a tiny smirk on his lips. "Probably."

 "But he knew you were the man for the job." Osferth commented. Not necessarily to defend his father but to hopefully bolster Uhtred's confidence. "The men respect you, even if their lord fails to acknowledge his own respect."

 "The baby monk is right." Finan said. "What else needs to be done for the town?"

 Uhtred and Finan began discussing ideas and strategies, Sihtric adding an occasional comment but mostly just listening. 

 Osferth found his attention wandering, since this was an area outside of his expertise. His gaze drifted to the town and its residents who moved about to complete their duties under the midday sun. Their group had only been in this large town for two days and already Osferth was keen to return to Coccham. 

 From amidst the crowd, a familiar face caught his attention. The world tilted off its axis as his entire body went rigid, all his focus zeroed in on her. His heart hammered in his chest and the air whooshed from his lungs painfully. 

 "Y/n?" He muttered to himself, disbelief and shock clearly painted in his tone and on his face. 

 "Baby monk, ya alright?"

 Finan's words did even register, so consumed by the ghost before him. Rapidly, he slid off the bench, almost losing his footing when he went to stand, but pressed on, hurrying towards her. 

 "Y/n!" He called, an almost desperate tone in his yell. 

 When she did not turn around, he shouted louder. "Y/N!" 

 That time she paused, then slowly turned to find him standing still amongst those walking around him, a solid rock in a stream of people. He held his breath as he intently watched her expression, suddenly worried seeing him would not be as meaningful as he hoped. He could see her utter his name silently, eyes wide. Then in the next moment, she dropped the basket on her hip and ran towards him. He opened his arms just in time for her to collide with him, and with her embrace, a painful wave of nostalgia and guilt crashed over him with the strength of a tempest. 

 "It's really you." She finally whispered, peering at him in awe. 

 "Hi." He smiled, his own shock clouding his mind from forming coherent sentences.  

 Then to his surprise, she reared back and punched him in the arm. 

 "Ouch! What was that for?" He whined, rubbing the offended limb. 

 Throwing her hands in the air, they landed on her hips as her voice rose in anger. "For disappearing in the middle of the night without telling me!"

 "I did tell you."

 "That you were THINKING about leaving, not that you WERE leaving!" She reared back and punched him in the arm again, ignoring his pained cry as she continued to berate him. "I spent an entire day running around the monastery trying to find you only for Father Harold to finally pull me aside and tell me you left for Wincheaster." 

 And there was the heaping of guilt he knew he deserved. "I'm sorry….I just….I just knew if I didn't leave that night, then I never would."

 Her face softened at his quiet admission, understanding passing in her eyes. "I know. I wasn't truly surprised…. Just wish you'd have told me before."

 "I'm sorry."

 She sighed, all anger and frustration disappearing, much to his relief. She was a force to be reckoned with when truly in her fury. "So, what are you doing here?"

 "Ah, traveled here with the Lord Uhtred to assist Lord Godwin in his defenses….or something."

 "Uhtred? That Uhtred?"

 He smiled at her, catching the reverence in her tone. "That very one."

 "How did you find him? How did you join him? Wait! Are you a warrior now? We have a lot to talk about and you better get started." There went the hands on her hips again, making his smile widen at the image. Even as a young girl, when her hands were on her hips, you knew she meant business. 

 "Would you like to meet him first?"

 A shy look passed over her face that he was unused to seeing. "I'm…. I'm not presentable to meet a lord."

 He scanned her, noting the dried mud on the hem of her dress and shoes, the small smear of what looked like flour on her left temple. What he noticed most was how the years had made her even more beautiful. She had always been a pretty girl but now, she truly looked like a beautiful woman. A fact he was unsure of how to feel about. 

 He chuckled lightly after a moment. "Well, you certainly smell better than Lord Uhtred so I think it's fine."

 That caused her to tip her head back and laugh loudly, the desired effect of his comment. She gathered up her basket and walked next to Osferth, back to the table where his companions were. It was impossible to ignore their curious stares as they approached. 

 "Lord Uhtred, may I introduce y/n. Y/n, this is Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg." Osferth said, standing next to her at the end of the table.

 Uhtred nodded graciously, clearly wondering why this woman mattered and why Osferth was introducing her. 

 "Oh, it's an honor to meet you!" Y/n gushed, a bright smile on her face. "Uncle Leofric told us so much about you, but I never thought I'd ever meet you in person."

 "Leofric?" That caught his lord's attention, his gaze narrowing and eyeing her with renewed interest. "How did you know that turd?"

 "When he came to visit Osferth, he'd tell us stories."

 "Ah….all exaggerated, of course." Uhtred said with a cocky smirk. 

 "Wait. I think we're missin' the most important thing here." Finan leaned forward, dark eyes bouncing between Osferth and her, as he pointed a finger at them, hand still wrapped around his cup. "Ya said 'Uncle Leofric'....are ya related to Osferth?"

 Osferth answered quickly. "No, her family owned the farm next to the monastery, so we grew up together." Then he furrowed his brows as a thought hit him. He had been so amazed to see his childhood best friend (only friend really) that he had not realized that she should be back at the farm and not in this town. "Wait, y/n, why are you here and not at the farm?"

 Her face crumpled for a brief second before she was able to mask it into a neutral expression. She shrugged casually, but he could read the subtle tension in the action. "We lost the farm, so mother and I came here to look for work."

 "Ah." There were so many things he wanted to ask but could tell now was not the right time. If she lived here, he would have plenty of time to hear the full story later. Instead he decided to change the subject. "So, you know Lord Uhtred, the others are Finan and Sihtric…. And Sihtric is also a bastard." He added as an afterthought. 

 That made her face light up as she turned to look at the Dane. "Hey, another bastard! We really need to start a club. We can all rant about how awful our fathers are."

 "You're a bastard?" Uhtred asked, shock evident in his voice. 

 "Yes, my lord. My mother was a servant for a lord. Got pregnant. The lord's wife did not like that so sent my pregnant mother back to her family. Certainly, it was our Lord's Will because how else would I have been able to grow up with Osferth?" She asked, patting him on the cheek affectionately. He blushed and swatted her hand away, much to the other's amusement. 

 "I reckon you have quite a few amusin' stories of growin' up with Osferth, eh?" Finan smirked. 

 "I might….but I don't share secrets for free." She matched his smirk with her own crooked smile. 

 He slapped his hand on the table. "I'll owe ya a drink! I need to 'ear this."

 "No….oh no, no, no." Osferth said but knew it was a lost cause before he even tried to deter them. The rest were already deciding when and where to meet that night. "Lord help me."

 "It's not that bad." She teased, bumping his arm with hers. "The worst one is when we went streaking naked through the monastery."

 Osferth felt his face heat up like the flames of hell itself as everyone laughed. "It was your idea."

 "Yeah, yeah, so you like to remind me." She smiled fondly. "Now, if I don't get back home, my mother is going to think I've run off with some man or I've been kidnapped. Either way, she will raise the fyrd herself to find me. I will see you all tonight."

 The others said their goodbyes but before she could step too far away, Osferth gently touched her arm, halting her movement. 

 "Y/n….I'm….I'm glad our paths have crossed once again."

 She pulled him into a tight embrace. "I am too, Osferth. I've missed you." With that, she turned and walked away with her basket still on her hip; but not without glancing over her shoulder at the group before disappearing around some buildings. 

 Once out of sight, Osferth sighed and turned back to his companions, only to see them all still staring intently in the direction she disappeared. 

 "No….y/n is off-limits to you fornicators." He stated firmly, well as firmly as he could be. 

 "She's very pretty…." Uhtred declared, a playful grin on his face. 

 "Lord, no. All of you, keep your hands off of her."

 "Or what?" Finan chuckled, eyes alight with mischief. "You'll fight us, baby monk?"

 "I will if I must."

 "Alright. Her dignity won't be tarnished." Uhtred lifted his cup in Osferth's direction. "Your reputation might be tonight depending on what stories she shares." 

 Osferth groaned, sitting back down next to his lord. "I'm going to need a lot of ale."

 "That can certainly be arranged!" Finan laughed, jovial once more. 

 As discussion started back up again, they all missed the silent, longing glance Sihtric snuck one last time in the direction she walked away….

 *****

 Over the next several weeks Lord Uhtred helped increase the defenses of the town and instructed the guards and fyrd how to better defend against the Danes. 

 During those weeks, you found yourself frequently spending time with Osferth and his companions. First it started off with meeting them in the evenings for ale, laughter and good company. Within days, it became almost expected for one of them to purposefully seek you out. Most of the time it was Osferth and Sihtric coming to join you in whatever your tasks for the day because they were bored or unwanted in meetings. It was not difficult to tell that although they were certainly welcomed members of Uhtred's group, not everyone else saw them in such a positive light. 

 So the three of you often passed the hours away together, waiting until evening to rejoin Uhtred and Finan at the alehouse. Their presence became such a regular occurrence that your mother practically adopted them, they even had their assigned seats at your small kitchen table for meals. Somehow, they seamlessly slipped into your daily life in a way that seemed like they were meant to be there this whole time. 

 Even at the alehouse in the evenings, you usually found yourself nestled between Osferth and Sihtric on the bench. A place you certainly found yourself enjoying more and more….especially next to the Dane. 

 Over the weeks, there was something growing between you and the Dane. It gradually revealed itself with each passing day, growing like the roots of an oak tree. It was through the borderline flirtatious comments that you teased each other with. It was in the subtle touches that caused butterflies in your stomach to dance, from your fingers barely gracing each other when passing something, to the way you leaned your head on his shoulder when your eyelids threatened to close, to the way your thighs would touch under the table and away from view of the others. It was in the lingering looks when your gazes locked and you swore you never wanted to look away. It was in the consistency of being next to one another whenever you could, either sitting at a table or just walking down the street, almost like your bodies were magnetized to one another's. 

 Plus the more you talked to Sihtric, the more you desired to know about him. For he was like no other man you had ever met. 

 Almost a fortnight after you reunited with Osferth, there was one particular evening after staying out far too late with the four men and drinking a bit too much, Sihtric graciously offered to walk you back home. You knew propriety demanded Osferth should be the one to escort you but he was already passed out, head on the table and snores emitting from his mouth. Giggling at your childhood friend, you accepted Sihtric's offer and the two of you easily fell into step. 

 On the walk you learned more about his past, about going up in Dunholm and his cruel father. You had heard bits and pieces while with Osferth and the others. Maybe it was under the cover of darkness, maybe it was the extra ale flowing through both of your blood, but he confessed secrets to you he had never told another besides his mother. When you reached your home, before he could slip away, you clutched his arm and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. After, you bid him goodnight and slipped inside your humble home. 

 After that night, he always walked you home, sometimes alone and sometimes one of the others would join. But when it was just you two, when you were alone, you would bid him a goodnight with a kiss on the cheek or he would kiss your hand, locking eyes with you in a way that made a fire stir in your belly and your core clench. 

 There was definitely something between the two of you, but neither seemed able to verbalize it or take the next step. 

 *****

 "So, what is going on between you and Cedric?" 

 You turned your head to look at Osferth, who laid on the grass next to you, soaking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. "What?"

 "You know….that blacksmith. The one you were talking to the other day."

 "Oh." The memory hit you. You had stopped by to drop off your mother's damaged cooking pot for Cedric to attempt in fixing, although you personally thought it was a helpless cause. The dent in it was significant, but he offered to see what he could do. As you dropped it off at his workshop, the two of you began discussing an approaching saint's day and the celebration that would occur with it. 

 Several minutes later, you heard your name called and looked over to see Osferth and Sihtric walking towards you. You bid Cedric a farewell, promising to stop by the next day to come pick up the pot. After receiving his promise to try his best at fixing it, you headed off towards the stables with your fellow bastards. At the time, you had not thought the encounter significant but with it happening two days ago and Osferth now bringing it up, you wondered how long he had been ruminating on it. 

 Finally, you simply said, "he's a good man, and has been kind to my mother and I since we arrived here."

 "Is he….pursuing you?" Osferth turned his head to scrutinize you, his lips pursed slightly as if concerned about your answer. 

 You openly laughed at the notion. "No, that's silly. He is just a kind man."

 If anything, you had to fend off flirtatious advancements from some of the young men that worked under Cedric. Those same young men quickly learned to keep their eyes on their work and mouths shut. When one openly called out to you, and before you could offer a sharp retort, Cedric threw a hammer at him from across the shop. He bellowed that he did not allow heathens to work for him and if they chose to act godless then they needed to find a new place of work. Their blatant interest diminished after that and Cedric made a point to be the only one that conversed with you if you came to the shop. Although he was easily ten years your senior, you found him a likeable man with a quick wit and sarcastic comments that occasionally left you in stitches. 

 The idea of him pursuing you was an amusing idea. He was still a bachelor, never having married, claiming that his work and apprentices kept him far too busy for much else. 

 Your answer appeared to satisfy Osferth. A thoughtful look crossed his face and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but immediately slowly closed it and turned his head back to stare at the blue sky. 

 A stillness settled after your answer, only interrupted by the frequent bird song and the wind through the tall grass. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sun's warmth and just lying around relaxing on the hill outside of the town, away from the hustle and bustle and chores that demanded your attention.  

 "He was watching you like a man who wants a woman." Sihtric stated after a couple minutes of peaceful silence. 

 Startled by his sour tone, you shifted up to look over at the Dane. He sat on the other side of Osferth, one leg propped up and an arm casually slung over it, but his gaze was focused straight ahead, staring off into the distance. Now that you thought about it, over the past two days Sihtric had become more reserved and sullen than you had ever seen. Even his companions commented on it a few times to which he would shrug his shoulders or make an excuse and walk away. You had thought he just missed Coccham, the group having been away for so long, or something happened that made him introspective. It had also not escaped your notice how the prior closeness between you two had halted. Now you wondered if there was something more to his demeanor.  

 "Well, that is most unfortunate for him since I am not interested in him."

 "Does your mother not want you to marry?" Osferth asked, his voice deceptively neutral. 

 Sighing, you leaned back on your hands. Eventually you knew Osferth would bring up the topic, he was your friend after all and you were certainly of marriageable age. Actually far too old to not be married by some people's standards, but you ignored them. "She does but she has told me that she will not force it upon me. She said I should make my own choice….that if I am able, I should choose love."

 You knew your mother offered you that choice in hopes your life would turn out differently than her own. 

 "But if Cedric is a good, kind man….could you not love him….or someone like him?" Osferth pressed. 

 "Perhaps. There are plenty of men I have seen who the church would call a 'good' man but are cruel in their own home, and there are many men who are calloused but it's obvious they love their wife and children. My love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. I would rather choose a man whom I know loves and cares for me than a man I know is 'good' but carries no love in his heart." You paused, the candid confession rolling off your tongue before you realized it. Sighing, you ran a hand over your hair before quietly saying. "I just….I just want someone that loves me….sinner or saint."

 Not a word was spoken as all three contemplated your statement, the silence hanging heavy like a brewing storm. Tilting your face to the sky, unable to meet the gazes of your companions, you chastised yourself for the candor with which you spoke. Osferth had asked a simple question initially and you chose to make it complicated. They did not need to know how you longed for love, how the hope for it in your potential future was what kept you going. It was foolish and you supposed after this, they would only see you as a silly girl with outlandish dreams of a storybook romance. 

 Finally, Osferth broke the silence. "Well, I shall be praying fervently for this man….hopefully he knows what he is getting into before he marries you."

 You laughed, appreciating his lighthearted comment. Reaching a hand out to smack Osferth's arm, you teased. "Keep that up and you won't be invited to my wedding."

 "Your mother will let me in."

 "Yeah, you're probably right." You glanced over in the direction of the town, regretting that your time away had to end. "I need to head back, those chores won't finish themselves."

 The three of you headed back to the town, quiet contemplation cloaking your group. Yet you feared that whatever spark lay between you and the Dane had been extinguished forever by your unexpected honesty. For still he refused to look your way, keeping his gaze focused forward. If your heart fissured within your chest, you swallowed down the pain. It was better for the spark to die out now then burn brightly only to be smothered later. 

 Or at least that was what you told yourself. 

 *****

 "What you said….about the sinners and the saints…."

 You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat with a silent scream on your tongue. In the small herb garden behind your house, you had thought you were alone. After the awkward conversation on the hill earlier that day, you sought solace in your chores. Thankfully Osferth and Sihtric headed back to meet with their companions on their own accord, leaving you to trudge through your muddled thoughts with all the grace of a newborn foal. 

 Now you found the very person who your thoughts centered on, standing just a few paces from you….and your heart began to race for a very different reason. 

 When his voice trailed off, those dark eyes that set fire licking through your veins dropped to the ground, you quietly stood up from where you had knelt, wiping the dirt from your hands, although you moved no closer. 

 "Sihtric?" You tried to prompt him. 

 "Is it true?" His piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, stealing the very breath from your lungs. "Your love doesn't discriminate?"

 "Yes." You breathed out. 

 He nodded silently before taking a step closer to you. "And what about….what about Danes?"

 Your chest pulled tight at his words, yet a coy smile grew on your lips. The flutter in your belly made your gaze drop for a moment as you tried to stifle the excitement making butterflies dance. Although this was no declaration, it was the closest the two of you had talked about what lay between you. Taking a steadying breath, you prayed this moment would not pass by without confessing the truth that you had harbored in your heart for weeks now. 

 "Not even towards Danes." You shook your head, the smile still on your lips. "And…. There is one I'm becoming quite fond of lately."

 "Yeah?" He took two steps closer, somehow moving cautiously but eating the ground with each determined step. 

 "But….do you think this Dane could be….fond of me?" You softly murmured, feeling as if your heart lay in the palms of your hands for all to see. 

 That last step separating you two disappeared almost before you finished asking your question. His hands ever so gently reached over to take yours, entwining your fingers together. The two of you stood so close, your chests almost touched with each breath you took. Your breathing seemed to cease under the intensity of his gaze and a shiver raced up your spine. Yet you had no desire to withdraw from him.

 "He would be a fool not to." He whispered, the barest hint of a tremble in his voice. "I'd bet you are constantly on this Dane's mind. That he cannot go a day without seeing your face and hearing your laugh. You are the first thought that he wakes to and the reason he falls asleep with a smile. That you have become the north star that it seems the gods have been guiding him towards for his whole life."

  As he spoke, everything faded to oblivion around you. The past and future vanished. Dane versus Saxon disappeared. The world narrowed down to this….this moment….this moment that you had dreamt of but never thought would come true. 

 The two of you continued to stand there, lost in one another's eyes with fingers intertwined. Your heart raced within your chest but a cooling breeze swept away the fears that plagued your mind. For staring at him, you knew he spoke no falsehoods. That he owned your heart just as much as you owned his. That very heart you could feel hammering away in his own chest. His eyes fervently held yours, a silent conversation, a confession, spoken only in looks but you both understood the language. His gaze dipped down to your lips, tracing them before slowly rising once again to your eyes. A curl of pleasure blossomed in your core as you witnessed the fire now in his eyes. 

 "If this Dane wanted to kiss me…. I wouldn't mind."

 A deliciously, sinful smirk teased his mouth. "As my lady commands."

 His head tilted, leaning towards yours. Unconsciously your eyelids fluttered closed. Then the briefest of touches made your knees weak and your mouth part open in a sigh. After a moment's hesitation, he continued to shower your jawline with kisses. Needing to touch him, your hands landed on his chest, feeling the tunic that covered his firm chest. Your hands moved upward to grasp the back of his neck, his pulse jumping for a second as your nails scraped his skin. His hands landed on the curve of your waist, bringing you even closer to him, erasing the unwanted space between your bodies. 

 As his lips began their ascent upward along the otherwise of your jaw, you moved. For the burning sparks in your body screamed if he did not kiss you, you would spontaneously combust. Shifting your face, you stole a kiss on his lips before he could place it on your skin. It was more of a gentle pressing of your mouths, but even then, you heard a sharp inhale from him. Before you could question him, his mouth returned to yours with soft, probing kisses that urged you to respond. Not that you would ever deny him. What started off as a gentle flame quickly became a roaring fire. Breathing became unnecessary, for how could air bring you life when your body craved Sihtric, when your lungs demanded to breathe him in instead. He led you in a drugging kiss that had you melting against him. Your lips drank from one another as if that alone could sustain you forevermore.  

 "THANK YA, GOD!!" 

 The passionate kiss abruptly ended as Sihtric and your gazes darted towards the side of your house. Only to be met with the sight of his three companions standing at the entrance in various states of smugness. 

 "Oh, for the love of Odin…." Sihtric mumbled. 

 You buried your face in Sihtric's chest, face heated in embarrassment but unable to stop the giggles that poured forth. So caught up in finally confessing your feelings and kissing the man who haunted your dreams, you forgot that anyone could walk by and see you. His arms tightened around you, keeping you within his protective, loving embrace….and you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be. 

 "Took the two of ya long enough." Finan continued, leaning against the side of your humble home with a shit-eating grin. 

 "Amen." Osferth had a small, teasing smile on his face. "Thought I would have to lock them in a room together before one of them finally confessed."

 Apparently, you and Sihtric were not as subtle as you previously thought. Now it made sense why Osferth was questioning you about Cedric and your thoughts on love and marriage earlier. Your heart flooded with gratitude towards your childhood friend, for without him you doubted neither Sihtric or you would have spoken up. Peering over, you caught Osferth's eye and mouthed a quick 'thank you'. He nodded, a simple joy radiating from his face. 

 "Lord?" Sihtric called over with a blank expression. "Permission to continue?"

 Uhtred chuckled. "I guess you've waited long enough. Go ahead." 

 Without waiting a moment longer, Sihtric tipped your face back up towards his and claimed your lips once more. You vaguely thought you heard laughter coming from the others but it all blurred away, like a faint sound while underwater. All you could see, all you could feel, all you could hear was Sihtric. 

 Just how you wanted it. 

 Suddenly you yanked your head back, your breathing labored and lips swollen. "My mother is helping at a nearby farm today. She won't be back until it's dark."

 He hummed against your skin trailing small kisses along your jawline and down your neck as if unable to keep his hands and mouth off you now that the dam had been released. 

 "I'm not as pure as Osferth thinks me to be."

 That statement made his actions stop. Carefully he raised his head to meet your gaze. "After dark?" He confirmed, voice rough in a way that sent a bolt of heat through you. 

 "Yes, she planned on having supper with them….so my home is currently empty….and I did just clean my blankets the other day…."

 He swooped in to give you a feverish, greedy kiss that left no doubt where his mind had gone. When he finally pulled back, you were surprised your legs could still hold you upright. Your whole body felt like puddy in his arms and he had only kissed you, albeit you doubted you would ever forget the way his mouth worshiped yours. 

 "You are certain? You want this?" He softly asked, staring into your eyes once more. "You want me?" 

 It was the last question, the vulnerable undertone, the hint of insecurity in it that sealed your decision. Letting your actions be your answer, you grabbed his hand and started pulling him in the direction of the door to your home. It did not take more than a second for him to come beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

 With his taste on your lips, the future did not matter right now. It did not matter that he was Dane and you were not. All you knew was Sihtric was neither a saint nor a sinner, but simply a man deserving of love. The river of your love was pointing you directly towards him, and you silently vowed to never let it run dry. 

#ems100 #mzwrites #The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom imagine #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson #Sihtric #sihtric imagine #Uhtred #Uhtred of Bebbanburg #osferth #finan #finan the agile

[the-modern-typewriter]

Where is your pfp from?

It's one of my own characters that I painted on my tablet.

Her name is Lucille De Silva/née Lucille Wolverton depending on the story. She's from one of my, as of yet unwritten, novels. I have the character for her very strongly in my head, but haven't been able to decide between several (seriously, there are at least three) different plots I'd want to use her for.

...and you didn't ask, but I'm going to tell you anyway, because I adore Lucille and will take any excuse to talk about her.

For the additionally curious:

1. You can read the opening of one plot version here on tumblr.

2. Plot 2 is a historical gothic fantasy type thing, wherein the protagonist goes to act as a lady's companion to the mysterious Lucille De Silva and her husband, but strangeness is afoot in Wolverton manor...

3. And this is a snippet of Lucille plot 3, in which she's actually the protagonist rather than the strange mix of maybe antagonist/love interest like in plots 1 and 2:

“Oh please, Lucille. You would be in prison if it wasn’t for me.”

“You’re the one who kills people for fun!”

“Whereas you are the saint who ruins people’s lives for a hobby?” Tristan raised his brows. “I know who I married, Lucille Wolverton. The only Wolverton with any teeth.” He bared his own and looked at her like she was Yellowstone devouring the world in smoke and some days before Lucille had thought that she might.

“That was a long time ago,” she said.

“Clearly. I marry the most dangerous woman I have ever had the privilege of setting my eyes upon, and suddenly she’s turned a new leaf. Positively perfect in every way. Just a little angel.”

Lucille’s blood pounded in her ears.

“That’s why you did this?” Her voice cracked. “Revenge that I tried too hard to be a good wife? My god, the hardship for you.”

“Of course,” he ignored her, continuing lightly. “The truth seeped out through the cracks.” His gaze drifted over her body, before he caressed his fingertip over the X on her cheek. “Had to still ruin something, didn’t you?”

She seized his wrist and dug her nails in.

“Fuck you.”

“Do you know what you looked like when you finally snapped, knife in hand?”

“Like a horror movie cliché.”

“Like a wrathful goddess.”

She wanted to bruise him, to make him look even as inch as shattered as she felt. as much hers as she was his. Instead she stepped back took a few deep breaths because she had lost control one too many times around him already.

“I got better,” she spat.

“You got tame.” He turned away, utterly unbothered by the possibility of attack, and moved over to the drinks car. “I don’t think marital bliss and comfort suited you very much, dear heart.”

He couldn’t be serious. He seemed to actually be serious. And she couldn’t believe he had the poor taste to bring a drink’s car into their bedroom – he had to be deliberately trying to irritate her!

“Maybe you were just a shit husband.”

He had the gall to laugh as if any of this was funny. He plucked up two tumblers and neatly poured out two measures of whiskey, glancing over and catching sight of the hard line of her mouth. A familiar and wicked amusement flashed through his eyes. “Would you prefer I toasted that with champagne, darling? All lightheaded, pale bubbles? It would be like you as a wife.”

“You’re despicable.”

“Isn’t that why you married me?”

Her stomach dropped out when she realized that, despite the smirk on his face, he meant that question seriously too. He always cocked his head like a bloody spaniel when he was serious. She swallowed. She wished she could say no, and be entirely certain it was the truth.

“You’ve killed people.”

“We’ve all have our indiscretions; mine are quicker and more merciful than yours.”

He held out the glass of whiskey for her to take and she knocked it back, as if the burn down her throat might boil away the bad taste in her mouth.

Tristan sighed. “Oh, Lucille. My dearest Lucille. See what you’ve done to us, trying to pretend to be something you’re not.”

“I was never a killer!”

“You put a knife into three different fatal stab areas in my body.”

“And yet here you are.”

“Yes.” He smiled. “Here I am. I’ll always be here for you, until death do us part, Mrs De Silva.”

At this point, she wasn’t sure if he meant that as a threat or a reassurance. She wasn’t sure which her heart took it as either only that it pounding, pounding, always pounding for him.

They considered each other, more quietly.

#X #my writing #my art #my novels #writing #story #lucille #oc #fiction #creative writing

[majestyeverlasting]

I Felt It in My Bones

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Being in the arms of your lover is good for the soul. Especially when paired with snowflakes falling from a darkening sky and reminiscing about moments that made you feel alive.

Word Count: ~900

A/N: This is a humble offering to all my lovely readers. I drove back to my hometown today, and this cozy, little storyline just flowed out of nowhere. If you cannot tell, my mind has skipped the remainder of fall, and jumped to winter and Christmas. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this. Rest assured that I'm still working on the requests I've received. You all are saints for being so patient.

Some nights were quieter than others. And they were oftentimes when Bucky craved your touch the most. Because if you were too far away, it seemed plausible that you would drift off to the place where all things beautiful resided—among the stars, perhaps. Yet there you were; with him on his firm, little couch. But no one could have paid you to mind. Not if it meant being tucked into his warmth with his arm draped over your shoulders as if that was where it always belonged. The first snow of the season was falling outside in wispy flakes. Below, the streets were coated in a thin, white blanket. Come morning, the plow trucks would surely be making their routes as children watched in dismay.

A few minutes had passed since any words were exchanged between you. The TV was on and turned to a channel hosting a Christmas movie marathon. It served as no more than background noise, however. The two of you were more in tune to each other than anything. You'd started scrolling through your camera roll, and Bucky watched along with small flames of reminiscence kindling in his chest. Mainly due to the fact that he was in so many of the photos. Quite a few of them were candid shots of him doing a small task or with something scenic in the background from past excursions.

You eventually came across one you’d taken back during the spring, a couple weeks after the two of you had confessed your romantic feelings for each other. It was late, and he’d coaxed you into tagging along with him to a gym session. In the picture, Bucky was halfway through a deadlift rep, quads bulging, with his gaze set on the mirror in front of him. There hadn’t been anything spectacular about the gym trip itself, but what came after had been the closest thing to magic you’d ever felt.

Somehow, the two of you had managed to find a deli that was still open and served decent food. You had settled into one of the booths to eat, and at some point within your conversation you had said something goofy that drew the most resonant belly laughter out of him. Even the man who prepared your food, spared a glance and shook his head with a little smirk. There were no words to describe the way it made pride swell within you. And though you hadn’t captured the moment on camera, it remained in a special place in your heart where it would live on forever.

“Do you remember this night?” You tapped the picture of him deadlifting so it would come up bigger.

Bucky hummed and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You made me look like an idiot in that deli,” he recounted. “God knows I needed that laugh, though. Swore I felt it in my bones.”

“Bet you felt the kiss we had afterwards in your bones too.” After leaving the deli, you remember settling back into his car and leaning across the console to steal a kiss before he started the engine.

“Felt that everywhere,” he mused. He then took your chin between the thumb and forefinger of his vibranium hand, and turned your head so that he could press his soft lips to yours. “Love you,” he murmured into the kiss.

You swallowed the profession as if it were a sweet honey, and wasted no time saying it right back. Your body felt light when you pulled away. And Bucky’s eyes looked somewhat dazed, though that could have been accredited to the tiredness that was beginning to establish itself. He ended up leaning in for one more sweet peck.

“Thank you,” he said. “For coming over and just… you know. Just being with me. I know you wanted to go see that light show, but I really don’t think I could’ve done crowds tonight.” There was no shame in his tone, only a profound degree of gratitude that washed over you like a moonlit tide.

“Anytime. I totally understand,” you assured. “The light show’s gonna be around for the rest of the month anyways. We can give next weekend a try.”

“For sure,” he said. “Definitely don’t wanna miss the opportunity to see you all excited like a little kid. And point a whole bunch of stuff out to me when I’m already looking.” The note of teasing to his tone held truth, and he playfully pinched at your side when he saw that you were trying not to laugh. You eventually caved, and buried your face into his shoulder as if you’d somehow become invisible.

“You’re being mean now,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Can’t understand you, pretty girl.”

You lifted your head and looked into his eyes. They held a kind depth that you never minded getting lost within.

“Mean,” you repeated. “You’re being mean. You know the lights are cool. I swear a part of me never grew up, but I couldn’t care less.” Bucky had started smiling at you by that point and your lips were curved upwards as well.

The moment in itself was a manifestation of what it meant to be happy. And as he looked at you, he couldn’t help but be convinced that you were the light in his life that would always shine brighter than all the rest.

-

Thank you so much for reading!

More fluffy Bucky fics here.

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky x fem reader #bucky x you #winter soilder

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 3

Summary: While his bride is exacting her plans from the very first day in Little Palace, the Darkling finds he has a soft spot for the enemy.

Warnings: sexual references, swearing, angst

Part one // Part two

=================================

The last thing Y/N expected upon waking up was to wake up alone. Spreading out in the bed, she huffed a loose strand of her hair off her face. Narrowing her eyes, she stared up at the canopy with her wicked husband on her mind.

After the way he had acted the night before, she found herself wondering what game he’s playing. They were meant to be married in paper only, yet he seems to have a possessive streak that extends to her as well. A part of her wasn’t sure if he truly had a shred of decency within considering he didn’t take advantage of their marital status, but the other part of her wasn’t easily swayed. That part of her remained defiant as it was forged in a fire the Darkling set. Intentionally or not, his actions have damaged her before they ever even met and she wasn’t very forgiving.

Opening the door, unannounced, strolled in the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen. Her long, auburn hair was perfectly styled and framed her face without obscuring an inch of her stunning beauty.

Genya, she realized. Even on the other side of the fold, Y/N knew of the empresses’ tailor.

Large, amber eyes fix on Y/N who slowly sat up. She stared at Genya without shame, admiring her appearance.

“Well, from what the general told me, I expected I’d have more work on my hands.” Genya huffs, her hands on her hips as her lips form a thin line.

“I have nothing wrong with me”, Y/N defends, graciously getting out of the bed that was far too comfy considering who she shared it with. “And where is the general?” Raising her eyebrow, Y/N folded her arms. No matter where he disappeared to, she couldn’t let him wander too far in case he tries to break their agreement and attend a meeting alone.

Humming, Genya didn’t try to hide her curiosity as she looked Y/N up and down. “Are you sure you don’t need my services?”

Glancing at the door, Y/N saw the servants waiting in front for a command. “Leave us”, Y/N waves them off, swiftly closing the door behind them. Her eyes settle on a seemingly startled Genya who cocks her head to the side.

“Interesting. So you do need me?”

Inhaling deeply, Y/N nods. Coming closer, her eyes remain on Genya’s whose gaze drifts at first. Once Y/N stopped before her, their eyes met.

“I need you, but not as a tailor.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Genya steps back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N licked her lips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you hate the emperor and you’d do anything to make sure he never lays a hand on you?”

Genya’s nostrils flare, her lips drawing back between her pearly whites. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m loyal to my emperor.”

“I know”, Y/N reaches for her hand, “I’m saying if your loyalties shifted, I’d make sure that fat fuck died in agonizing pain.”

Yanking her hand out of Y/N’s reach, Genya stepped back with wide eyes.

Gnawing on the inside of her bottom lip, Y/N wished she was more tactful. Hearing of Genya and her fate, she assumed she’d gladly ally with her in this fight. Not only does she need Genya on her side to fight against Kirigan, but the emperor as well. Genya would have been an ideal ally if only she was willing to hear her out. But she should have waited, befriended the Grisha. She should have been more tactful.

“Does the general know of the treasonous plans you speak of?”

Chuckling in disbelief, Y/N shakes her head, “Do you truly believe I’d be breathing if he did?”

Pursing her lips, Genya turned her back on Y/N, contemplating all the possibilities that could stem from her decision.

“It’s a lot, I know, but I am here with a few secrets of my own.” Y/N takes a step closer, her hand clasping Genya’s shoulder as a show of support. “I realize you barely know me, but we can change that now.”

“How?” Genya whispers, more to herself than Y/N who released a shaky sigh.

“By revealing a secret that would be lethal for me if you shared it with anyone.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Genya’s eyes narrowed at Y/N who felt genuine, more than anyone had been since the day she arrived in the Palace. Despite the initial mistrust, Genya nods.

The guards stationed outside of Y/N’s room only heard a loud gasp behind closed doors, unaware that very gasp was a start of a friendship that would define Ravka’s future.

Meanwhile, the Darkling had spent the morning out in the fields. Riding his favorite horse usually served as a way to distract his mind from ongoing worries, but it had no such effect today. No amount of speed or distance could possibly erase the feeling of Y/N’s hand on his body, much less of her body pressing against him.

He behaved as a pious man, an honorable gentleman with self-restrain of a saint. If he could, he’d have taken her without regrets, but he never crossed that line and doing so with a woman meant to be his wife would set him on a path of no return – of true evil.

The Darkling may have done some heinous things, but they were never without reason. If he had done anything against her wishes, he’d be beyond redemption and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth every time he imagined himself losing his mind around her long enough for her to turn him into the villain she sees him as.

Another thing he’s decided to do is break the rule he knew she expected him to uphold – sleeping in separate chambers was the worst thing for them now. He had to be in her bed every night, regardless if she wanted to let him between her legs or not. He wouldn’t force her, that much would be true, but he wouldn’t sleep in his own room anymore. The room they were given last night would be the one he goes to, stumbles to, crawls to, in order to fall asleep beside her. And though it’s a risk as he could easily find himself with his throat cut, he refused to back down.

Dismounting, he headed to the map room where his subordinates waited for further instructions regarding the war.  

“Shall we start?” The Darkling tossed his riding gloves on the desk as he looked at his people. A new face caught his attention, making him do a double take until his dark skies narrowed at her.

“Now that you’ve arrived”, Y/N stands, smiling sweetly. “I believe we can present to you what we’ve discussed while you were off on a joy ride.”

There’s nothing sweet about her, Darkling realizes. Even her smile is coated in honey but laced with poison.

 He licked his lips, “Well, if you want my opinion-“

“I don’t”, she stood her ground, “I have my own.”

Chuckling darkly, he leans forth on the table. His nostrils are flared, his hands gripping the edges until his knuckles turn white. “And what exactly is that?”

“We agreed on having the First army general having a vote in the decision making process as you all do, and since I’m his proxy, I’ve decided you will no longer use humans as canon meat.”

Gliding the tip of his tongue over the inner side of his teeth, he stared at Y/N as if she were made of glass he had every intention on shattering. That would be a mistake – glass is only brittle until it breaks, the shards can cause more damage.

“We will train Grisha to protect humans and humans will use their weapons to protect the Grisha in a more effective manner with the emperor’s gold.”

“Gold?” Kirigan says through gritted teeth as she approaches him, her hands behind her back and he has no doubts she’s stashed a weapon in them and the blue kefta she wore. He’d tell her to take it off and never wear one since she’s but a human, yet as his wife, she was entitled to a kefta. Besides, she looked like a dream in one.

“The emperor agreed to fund the First army’s armory during breakfast”, she smirks, lifting her head up to maintain eye contact.

“Get out”, he grumbles.

Raising her eyebrow, she giggles, “Are you that incapable of admitting I may have opinions and capabilities with potential to do better than the ones you brought before the emperor?” Hardening her gaze, she cups his cheek so tenderly he felt a shiver run down his back. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“GET OUT!” He turns to the others, watching them scramble to leave before he unleashes the darkness everyone feared. Once the last one left, the door slamming behind them, Kirigan locked his eyes on hers.

“Don’t ever try to get inside my head”, he snarled, slamming her against the door. As his heartbeat echoed in his ears, they stayed there with his grip crushing her wrists, keeping them pinned to the wall.

She didn’t breathe, trying to guess his next move. There was a risk she’d push him over the edge and she quite liked herself in one piece, so she waited – waited for him to move first despite the aching pain in her wrists. Releasing a shuddered breath, her chest deflates.

Finally, his eyes soften as he realizes he might have scared her and while he’d usually triumph, he found no satisfaction in being rough with her. He imagined himself releasing her from his grip, cupping her cheeks and asking for forgiveness, but the way she refused to blink made him unsteady. Yet he whispered still, “It’s too dark for you.”

Squinting, Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. She easily breaks out of his grasp, shoving him against the wall with her forearm on his chest. Trailing her hand lazily towards his neck, she tightens her grip, lightly choking him. Pulling him down, she stands on her tiptoes as well. Leaning in, her lips brush against his ear; whispering, "Darling, you may wield darkness but you don't know the meaning of dark."

Stepping away, she raised her chin defiantly and he wished he could grasp it and pull her lips to his until her jaw relented and her mouth opened for his. And that’s when he realized – why would he hold back?

Her eyes drifted up to his and she knew his resolve was gone. His lips captured hers in a hard kiss, driving them apart with the force of it. There was something gentle about it, regardless of the brute strength he used to push her into the door. She felt the door rattle against her back as he shifted, pressing her into it, taking her face between his hands.

When he kissed her, she felt as if she were losing his mind. She couldn’t comprehend why her hand wasn’t holding her dagger at his neck, or why she allowed herself to moan into the kiss as if he had brought her pleasure.

Every thought she once had evaporated as the darkness of lust drew her in, bending all her rules, stealing the last trembling bit of restraint. She tries to pull away, to stand firm and turn away his affection if she could call it that.

“No”, he whispers, bringing her lips back to his.

And when he kissed her again, she wasn’t sure she wanted her sanity back. She slid her hands under his kefta, wrapping arms around him to press him closer. The low groan at the back of his throat, a small, pleading noise set every inch of her skin on fire.

Opening her eyes, they widen as she notes his are closed as he lost himself in their passionate exchange. A single intelligent thought formed inside her mind, sparking others to appear as well. Playing with fire is her favorite hobby, but this wasn’t a game – not when she was losing.

Pushing against him with all her might, Y/N gasped for breath as he stumbled back. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she narrowed her eyes at him. Lifting her chin, Y/N met his gaze decidedly. After all, she couldn’t avoid her marital duty if she allowed him to kiss her like that. He may not be an old, unattractive, undeveloped man she had imagined in her mind, but Y/N still wasn’t quite keen on giving herself to him. She had kept her maidenhood all those years only to lose it to a man who shall never be more to her than a husband in name only. She’d never love him…she promised herself that. She never broke a promise before and he would not be the one who changes that.

“Don’t touch me”, she spoke through clenched teeth.

He looked at her in surprise. There was hatred in her enchantingly cold eyes, her cheeks flushed red. If possible, her anger made her even more beautiful. Never had he felt such a raging desire.

His hand went around her neck, his thumb digging into the soft flesh. “You are my wife,” he said in a low voice. “You are mine!”

“I believe we have already covered that. I’m not yours and I never will be.” Y/N told him with such spite, such determination that he let her go immediately.

“You’re untouched, aren’t you?” Darkling’s voice softened, his eyes holding more understanding than she liked. Had he acted unreasonably and taken her against her will the night before or now, she’d at least be right about his horrid heart and vile mind…but he didn’t. Instead of being a savage she imaged him to be, he offered her gentle understanding.

“I’m sorry I was rough. I’ll try and be gentler. If you don’t want to go through with this, I won’t force you.” Running a hand across his face, he leaned back on the table. “I want you…really fucking bad, but I won’t take you against your will.” The Darkling sighed as she stared at him with her doe eyes, seeing confusion pass her features.

“Good to know where you draw your line. Murder – good, rape – bad.”

Rolling his eyes, he squinted as he looked at her again, “We can’t sacrifice Grisha for your men.”

Knitting her eyebrows, Y/N could hardly believe he just forgot the kiss they shared. In seconds, he crossed his arms and the lustful look was gone. The man before her was a general once more, and though he tried to hide it, he was still a man who had a hard-on despite the subject change. She wished she could ignore the evidence his blood is still boiling for a touch, more so because he was fucking right – he wasn’t small at all.

“If you keep wasting human lives, we will stop defending yours entirely.”

Raising an eyebrow, his face hardened, “We’ll kill you.”

Scoffing, she raises her eyebrow to mimic him. “It’s you or Volcra or the Druskelle and Fjerdans or Shu. We end up dying either way.” Stepping closer, she folded her hands behind her back. “We can work together and lessen our losses or you can do it your way and have a massacre instead.”

In less than a minute, her eyes turned from ice to flame and he found himself captivated by the change.

“I’ll agree on one condition.”

His gaze roamed over her as if he is unable to fully comprehend her beauty. Only when he looked back at her eyes did he see she was troubled. Was that expression fear? The possibility struck him as so humorous he nearly laughed out loud.

“State your terms”, she snapped, refusing to concede when she’s close enough to do something she’s wanted for years – to protect the soldiers used as a shield for those who are perfectly capable of protecting themselves.

“I plan on getting to know you better”, he leaned in closer. He raised his hand, cupping her cheek just as he imagined – tenderly, enough to show dominance but not quite capable of harming her. “If you let me.”

Heart fluttering inside her chest had made her doubt herself. She stared at him, stubborn and unrelenting. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

Chuckling, Kirigan drops his hand, noticing her relax as he steps back. With a tightness in his chest, he looked back at his wife, so small, so alone and still so fierce. He would never admit it, but he had already a sliver of love for her and knowing she did not had hurt him.

His smile falls and he nods. Clearing his throat, “How about we go for a ride in a few days?” He took her hand in his and gave her a gentle squeeze, looking up at her weary eyes.

“Does that mean I have the bed all to myself?” Raising her eyebrows expectantly, she squeezed his hands right back, as bold as ever. Genya seemed to trust him, yet Y/N couldn’t understand why. He’s too charming to be trustworthy.

Using his grip on her hand as an advantage, he tugged her closer to him and she found herself between his legs as he remained, leaning against the table behind him. His eyes flicker to her lips, “Better find more pillows, my wife. We wouldn’t want you to be the big spoon again, would we?”

With that, he turned them so swiftly, she had barely blinked as he pulled her up on the table and she gasped in surprise. Heart beating fast, she nearly gripped his kefta and claimed his lips, but he leaned in on his own accord and she had no need for brutish behavior.

The tip of his nose brushes hers and just as she begins to lean in, he takes a step back. Winking, he takes another step back.

“If you want a taste, you’ll have to ask.”

Watching his retreating figure in shock, she remained perched on the table with her mouth open and her eyes wide.

Covering her mouth, Y/N shakes her head. Her mind was right, the heart cannot be trusted.

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9​ @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x​ 

PART 4

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadow and bone #the darkling fanfiction