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lady-ashfade · 4 months

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Matching flames

Percy Jackson x Soulmate!Reader

-£ Ask: Percy x reader who's his soul mate and he only finds out when she almost dies (could be trying to save him or just because life as a demigod is hard) @poemfreak306

-£ words: 2k

-£ Warnings: Reader being injured, soulmate au, blood & cuts, reader almost dying, angsty, comfort at the end, cursing?? (You can also imagine any Percy you want in this)

Could you count all the stars in the sky?

It was almost peaceful looking up at the stars, mind going blank and your body numb. they looked so beautiful and you realize you’ve never quite looked closely at them. burning rocks floating in space that somehow was the cause of so many poems and love stories. if only you had noticed it sooner.

Blood leaked out of your side and the hand you placed over it started to give up trying to put pressure on the wound. The monster who chased you for miles had finally got to you after being so close to camp, to being safe and sound, when it’s claws finally got ahold of you. Its sharp nails dragged into your skin ripping your clothes and stained them with the blood immediately pouring out. thankfully you had one stroke of luck when your dagger pierced its heart and it was quick to fall.

Not much time has passed since then, however it was enough time for you to loss too much blood.

Had the stars always been that pretty? Just a thought as your eyes blur and the only thing left to feel was the thoughts in your head. The sweet smile of your moral parent’s smile, how it felt to laugh with friends and how some part of you still felt on fire. The shore of the camp’s lake appeared in your mind, and sand beneath your feet as you look at someone’s figure. The smile on their face was so familiar…Maybe it was death being nice to you.

you tried to keep your eyes open but they were just too heavy. maybe you could just rest for a few minutes. there was a sense of warmth that took over your body once more as your eyes fade closed.

“He’s coming, not long little one.”

the campfire wasn’t his focus at the moment but he found himself staring into it as his thoughts ran wild. he had just back to camp but this year was so much different. there was so much on his mind that he just couldn’t focus on one thing. about his mother, his father and how he still couldn’t believe he was a Demi god. even after a long time it just wasn’t normal to him.

then a hiss leaves his lips as he clings to his side in pain. it was stinging and felt on fire. he knew how being wounded felt like all to well but nothing happened, he was just sitting. then his finger felt funny like pins and needles stabbed him all at once. from his left annabeth looks at him worried and looking of his confused face.

“What’s wrong?” But the boy just stared at himself as the pain faded away but his hand became numb and weird. He spun it around a few times to look over it, checking for anything causing it but found nothing. not even a bug.

it was your smile that popped in his head. the warm shoulder he always laid on, he could hear the laugh you had ringing in his ears. why? his name was called from your soft lips but it wasn’t like normal, he saw your lips with blood from the corner. reaching out to him like he was your only hope.

“Y/n.” He stood up immediately at the image in his head. looking around for you in the crowd of campers he didn’t find you with your siblings or around your friends. annebeth looked at him worried and stood up with him, “what is it?”

he knew those trees. he’s seen then a million times. percy knew the grass, but this was different from actually knowing where you were. something was tugging his body and he didn’t need ask where you were. he knew.

his feet moved on their own and he practically ran where they took him and only thought of you. Annebeth stayed behind and told Mr.d that something might be wrong. Percy felt off and not the normal kind he always did. his body felt weaker like it was losing its life. his chest felt off and his heart filled with sorrow.

so when he found you laying in a pool of your own blood he was quick to fall next to you. “y/n” he called out. he checked for a pulse but couldn’t do it right so he leaned next to your nose and listened for your breathing and thankfully he felt some. his heart was pounding when he saw the cuts on your body making his mind wonder to what could have done it. the camp was just a few feet away and you could have been safe.

“Don’t die,” he begged and places his arm under your head, “this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” his words didn’t make sense to him when he spoke. how was it supposed to be? what was he talking about.

the new light in the sky made him look up to a shooting star shoot cross the sky. it was truly beautiful. something around his finger pulled again and he felt the small feeling of string so when he looked down it was red and tied around him. following the line he found it connected to you. The string of fate.

his string was tied to yours. you were his soulmate.

“no, no” he wrapped another arm under your legs and left you up slightly. he was staring at your face with tears pooling themselves in his eyes. for the first time he was finally seeing you as what you were. his. but how could the gods be so cruel to take you way from him. Percy wouldn’t let that happen. he’d fight hades himself for you back.

“just stay with me.” there he was carrying you passed the camp line to get you to the infirmary. even in the near death you looked stunning as you away did. he was just to stupid to see it before.

when they took you away from him he was quiet and stood outside the door and refused to leave. percy even refused to leave the room at first but was yelled at and pushed out, so he had no choice but to leave your side. how could he just stay outside when he could lose the one person that was supposedly to stay with him, to love him, and who was supposed to be with him always? how could he just sit still when he was going to lose it all?

his friends came to sit with him and offered him some kind words and reassurance but not much helped. he just sat down on a chair with his legs bouncing and hands fiddling with themselves as all he could think is about you. about the cuts on your skin and all the blood.

luckily they had gotten you somewhat healed, making you stable and fine. just had to wait for your body to heal.

“Percy,” annabeth poked his shoulder as he stared at the floor. they had left and he could go in now but he didn’t notice. “you can go in now.” Percy turn quickly to her and then at the door wide open now. so he sprinted up and inside to find you laying on the bed peacefully sleeping. annabeth didn’t follow him in because he needed a moment alone. she’d let him have his moment

Percy sat beside your bed the whole time you slept. he’d fed you. he’d brushed your hair out of your face and watched you closely as if someone was out to get you. his hand was always ready to pull out riptide in case but nothing dangerous ever came. his hand stayed in yours while he whispered for you to wake up and how much he was sorry.

“Should have realized it before,” he whispered as he leaned near you. “gosh, I’m such a idiot.” he sighed to himself and ran his eyes over you.

His hands rubbed your own, “Just wake up and I’ll make up for it. For all the time we lost, just let me love you.” His lips pressed to your head as you continued to sleep unknowing to his words but your body healing by having him close.

two days of not getting much sleep himself you’d waken up. his head resting next to your leg as he sat in a chair with his hand on yours, his hair messy. you didn’t remember coming to the infirmary or how you got here. and not percy holding your hand. but you couldn’t let go off it because it was to comfortable like it was made to fit in yours.

when you moved your body since it felt so stiff from probably not moving in days you’d accidentally woke him up. you felt bad as he shot up quickly and looked around panicked with his hand going to his side, probably reaching for riptide. once his eyes found yours it made your heart sink into your lower stomach. under his eyes were black circles and his eyes looked so painful that it broke you, like he’d been crying. he was paler then normal.

A sad smile broke onto his face, he was relieved to see you awake. He let out a small chuckle as his eyes almost filled with tears when he jumped forward you take your head into his chest as a small hug. “Welcome back,” you froze at his hug but let him have his moment. of course you smiled and wrapped your arms around him too. It was nice.

“Percy, how long was I out…How did I get here?” Pulling himself back with a red tint in his chest he sat back down.

“I found you outside the barrier. Y/n, I thought you were dead, you were barely breathing.” his voice broke. “but I got you here and now you’re awake. not dead,” there was that damn smiling again that pained you, like he was convincing his demons something.

humming and nodding your head along you look at your side to see it healed, lifting up your shirt just a little and saw a scar on your skin. it made you frown knowing how big it would be. “If it means anything, I think you’d look badass.” you put your shirt back down and look at him.

he was trying to make you feel better. “Percy when I was- When I closed my eyes I heard something and my body, well it felt different. Do you know anything about that?” his heart skipped a beat and his eyes slightly going wide.

was it obvious how fluster he was? was his skin as red as a tomato, did he look like a fool? “I have to tell you something.” Percy played with his own hands again and looked away for a second. you swing your legs to the side of the bed to stretch.

“Go ahead.”

You watched him closely and you could see he was working himself up to speak. how his body bounced and twitched, he was turning redder by the second. he was cute. and you yourself found your own cheeks turning hot when you looked at him.

“I saw you at the campfire in my mind. I could feel the pain you felt, or somewhat, like I was dying. my body was pulling me to you and I knew exactly where to find you without having to look.” As he explained you listened carefully and tilted your head to the side.

“then I saw it. The red string of fate tied to my finger. I saw a shooting star, then I saw your string tied to my. And for the first time I saw you for the first time, as my soulmate.”

“Oh.” Damnit. That was bad.

Percy nodded and now started to shut down as he watched you, your brain moving to figure out what to say. he just ruined everything. you wished to not be his soulmate, that was it. he didn’t blame you. Percy brought danger whereever he went.

But that wasn’t it. you had been thinking something else. everything made sense to you now. why you looked at him when no one else was looking. why he made you feel high in the clouds when he was near. and how he just fit so well in your life without trying. “Percy,” you call out to him again and move closer and scoot to the end of the bed with your feet hitting the floor.

you should have known from his eyes. as they look at you now it just hit you like bricks, how they were so powerful. as you take his cheek in your hands his breath hitches and holds in his chest. “i’m glad you’re my soulmate.”

he pulled you close to him and held you so tight in how arms as you giggled at how happy he seemed. his laugh made your stomach fill with butterflies. “I’ll make you happy.” And that you had no doubt about. you pulled back from his grasp and looked at his lips. you needed to kiss him. and Percy knew what you were thinking and wanted the same.

his face moved forward as his kiss captured yours in a soft but passive kiss, his hands moving to wrap themselves around your body as yours wrapped around his neck. it was nice but didn’t end short. after all you both waited for a long time to feel the love of a soulmate and you didn’t know that you craved it this badly.

The stars never lied when it comes to love. And now you knew that he was the burning fire within you.

#percy jackson x you #percy jackson x male reader #Percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #angst to fluff #soulmate au

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auspicioustidings · 6 months

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Firewatch Part 6

Summary: Things heat up with your and Kyle, and you try to enact your plan.

Words: 2k

CW: Smut, dubcon (explanation in the tags if you want more info and don't mind slight spoilers)

Kyle Garrick was a complete mystery to you. The way he moved around you as if you had known one another forever, small touches gliding across you whenever he was close. The way he pouted cutely when even after putting food out for her, Dosia had no time at all for him. The way he asked a thousand questions and you watched as after every answer he took a moment to file the information away in his head. Your favourite colour, when you had got Dosia, what foods you liked, dream vacation spot, pet peeves and comfort shows. He received every answer with grace even when they surprised him.

“I didn’t think you’d be into horror” he said with a bright grin, deft hands peeling oranges for the dessert he was making now that lunch was happily bubbling away.

You didn’t mind cooking even if you didn’t have any great love for it, but you were more than content to just sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island and watch him work. The lazy rays of sunlight kept catching him and you didn’t even find you were reluctant to admit to yourself that he was beautiful. Of course he was still happily in those wholesome flannel bottoms and no shirt. Of course.

“I think after the past 48 hours I might have lost my love of it” you answered, as if to remind yourself out loud that this beautiful man cooking your favourite meal for lunch was not someone to fall for.

It was fascinating to watch him frown and look at you with those eyes all full of apologies and longing. Fascinating and heart wrenching because it really made you feel guilty using him the way you intended. He abandoned the oranges and moved to where you were perched on the stool.

“We saved you luv, you’re safe.”

As if it was the fire that you had found horrifying. Although thinking about it now did make your heartbeat pick up when you remembered that awful choking smoke smothering and blinding you. You didn’t remember much from when you had been fading, too terrified to move towards the doorway when you could see the blaze through it. But you remembered the figure that had barreled through and roughly held your face for a moment in some sort of relief you were alive. You remembered being lifted and the quick flash of heat as you were carried through. You remembered the sky had never looked so beautiful even as grey as it was.

Kyle saw it again, saw you experiencing it in your head. Last time it had happened he had kissed you and had felt his self-control steam out of his ears immediately. You had been in those cute little dungarees then, but now you were dressed in Price’s sweatpants and tshirt and it did something for him. It felt forbidden to touch you when his Captain had so clearly marked you his, and that made the idea all the more attractive. But he fought it, he fought it as much as he could, instead taking your hand in his and smoothing his thumb in soothing circles.

“You are right here, you’re safe. You can breathe,” he said gently.

Stupid handsome boy and his stupid comfort and your stupid feelings.

“Thank you.”

There was a moment where you just stared at one another and you thought he might kiss you, but he didn’t. He kept himself still but for the thumb rubbing your knuckles. Except for this half baked plan to work you needed him to kiss you. You needed there to be evidence on your body of him for the others to see, especially Johnny. After all the past two times you had been cosy with Kyle it had been him that caught you, him that was mad about it.

“Kyle…” you whispered, finding that the tremor and neediness in your voice came easier than it should.

He had self-control, but not that much. Not enough to turn down the open invitation you were giving him even if he did suspect that you had some ulterior motive. He wasn’t stupid and you were far from the tame little thing he had imagined you so he didn’t buy the damsel act, but he also wasn’t a good enough man to let you know that when it ran the risk you would give up on whatever plan involved getting him on you.

He ran his thumb across your bottom lip and you leaned forward slightly to wrap your lips around the digit. You watched his eyes, how they were fixated on watching as your mouth welcomed his thumb and then welcomed two of his fingers when he switched to pressing them against your lips. You swirled your tongue around them, watching his eyes darken.

Honestly you had thought he would just kiss you as a response, not whatever this was. The pads of his fingers massaging orange oil into your tongue was causing a violent flurry of butterflies in your stomach, like you were on a roller coaster during the drop. You hadn't really meant to suckle on them the way you were doing, but it felt instinctual, it felt like you needed to see the bobbing of his Adams apple as he had to swallow thickly at the feeling of your tongue on his fingers.

You just stared at him as he withdrew his fingers and looked at you, both of you flushed. His fingers were glistening with your saliva and he made no move to wipe them off.

"Tell me I can use them."

You thought your heart might have thudded hard enough to smash into your ribcage as you nodded shakily.

"Words luv."

He was being serious you realised. He really wanted to make sure you were enthusiastic in your consent. The man who had, with his team, kidnapped you and faked your death, wanted you to be enthusiastic in your consent. Fuck it was hard not to like him.

"You can use them," you said, voice cracking. He stared at you and waited, obvious that he wanted more than that. "You can use your fingers on me, I… Kyle please, want you to."

And you did. You did want him to. Before you could process that little fact and feel the mortification from having said it out loud, his fingers still wet from your saliva had slipped into the waistband of the sweats you were wearing and dragged straight from your entrance to your clit. He got even closer to you which let you drop your head against his chest and just pant, focusing on trying not to get overwhelmed.

It was difficult, it was so difficult. Kyle was spectacular with his fingers, playing with you softly enough that you were biting back little whines and begs for him to do more. If the fact that this was actually doing fuck all to leave a physical mark on you came to your head, you fully ignored it. If the fact that one of the hands you had clinging to his bare chest moved down to feel him through the fabric of his pants then you ignored that too. God you wanted to see if you could take him, he felt big.

“M’going to, come on luv, tell me I can” he said into your hair as his fingers teased at your entrance, looking for permission to sink them into your heat.

When you just mumbled incoherently he pressed his thumb to your clit and drew delicious circles with it, getting you insanely close to the edge and then slowing again and again.

“Words, need words.”

“I-I- fuck please. Ok please? Just fucking finger me already!”

You were near shouting at him and horribly embarrassed at the words that had snapped out of your mouth. How long had it been since someone else touched you like this? The hand you had on him slipped under his pants to really feel him, start pumping at that hot velvety cock that you knew would fit perfectly inside you. It would be a stretch, especially after so long, but fuck you wanted it so badly as his fingers finally speared into you, making you cry out pathetically against his chest. You were enjoying this immensely, but you tried to cling onto the last shreds of your plan. Kyle needed to like you, you needed to turn him against the others. And honestly if he did run away with you, would it be so bad to give in and stay with him?

Kyle may not have had the self-control to leave you be, but he was patient and could take it torturously slow. He was glad your face was buried as it was, not able to see the feral little grin he had at how out of control you got. You probably didn’t even realise that you were going fast and hard at his cock, getting him close enough that he knew he’d wind up cumming first if he didn’t stop you. It was fucking beautiful how you were wriggling in the stool, fucking yourself down onto his fingers and making circles with your hips to get more friction from his thumb on your clit. When he crooked his fingers inside you the strangled noise you made was music to his ears. He wasn’t intending of cumming first, was fully about to make you slow down, but then you gave yourself away.

“K-Kyle! Please, I- I don’t want the others to touch me, just you. I’m yours.”

So that was your game. Honestly he felt a little bad for you with how poorly put together this little scheme was. You were barely able to even commit to the words, clearly not really caring fully about what you were saying but forcing yourself to say it nonetheless. He slid his eyes to the window, locking them with Soap and Price outside with mischief clearly on his mind. He had noticed them arrive when you had been tumbling into flashbacks, had given them a small shake of the head to indicate they should hold off coming in and let him handle it. They wound up getting quite a show with how loud you were. Price only rolled his eyes at how dumb he found your attempt to sow discord between them and lit a cigar, turning away. Soap grinned, clearly delighted with the ammunition they now had, fully intending to watch the end of this little show.

“Say it again luv, who do you belong to?”

Hearing you sob out his name while wearing Price’s clothes, while he had his eyes locked with Soap outside, that had him groaning and cumming messily into your hand. And then without much ceremony he pulled his fingers out of you and took his hand back, stepping away from you.

You were wildly confused at first, left panting on the stool with one of your hand sticky from his cum and your whole body a live wire, desperate to finish. The confusion turned to white hot anger when he smirked at you, clearly not intending on finishing what he started. You went to screech at him when you heard the door open, whipping your head around to watch Johnny swagger in. You caught a glimpse of cigar smoke, oh God Price was out there.

Without even acknowledging you Kyle held out his fingers and Johnny walked over to suck your arousal off of them with a delighted little groan. You could not fucking breathe watching it. And when Johnny turned to you and delicately put a hand to your throat, growled into your ear, you thought your heart might have stopped.

“Stupid wee bonnie thing, your naw going tae cum until ye get permission from every single one of us.”

Just like that the heat of him was gone with a little warning squeeze to your throat and him and Kyle were discussing what was for lunch. They laughed jovially about the state of Kyle, Price finally coming in and telling him to go clean up while him and Johnny sorted the rest of the cooking. They were so comfortable around one another. Oh, oh this plan was never going to work was it?

You sat, wet and miserable and angry, trying to figure out what the fuck you were going to do.

#mhairiwrites #fanfic #cod au #tf 141 x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x reader #ok so that CW #reader does consent to the smut but is not aware there is an audience #also like these people still kidnapped you so there's that #is this perhaps the dumbest reader I have ever written?#we'll blame it on the trauma

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jooberry · 1 year

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title : middle of the night

next part : part II

pairing : hyungwon x female reader

genre : smut, friends with benefits, idol!au

word count : 3,5k

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It’s raining heavily outside. Raindrops crash against the windows in loud cracks, thunder reverberates menacingly, and trees sway and vibrate along with the wind. You were supposed to spend the night catching up on some work stuff, but your attention keeps coming back to the strings of lights cutting through the sky, on the violent rumbling shaking the city. You usually find comfort in the melody of rain knocking on glass, but tonight it makes you restless. Thunder reminds you of Hyungwon now – you’ve first met on a thunderous night like this one, and the memory of this makes you crave his presence every time. You reminisce about how he had told you that you were too old to be afraid of thunderstorms but had still stayed up with you all night.

You’d lived through countless thunderstorms before meeting him, and you had a pretty solid routine to ease your mind on a night like this one; a good jazz record, noise-canceling headphones, your favorite cup of tea, and a cozy sweater had always seemed enough for you to get by until today. Today, you feel like something is missing. Hyungwon not being there to share his questionable music taste, to listen to you ramble on and on about your favorite books feels odd...almost sad. Him not being there to make you lose yourself in his touch feels so foreign.

It dawns on you that you could text Hyungwon, ask him to come and hold you through the night – he was there, you knew that because he had posted about this coffee place he loved earlier today – but something, the distant murmur of a feeling that you have yet to identify is making you think twice about doing that. Hyungwon was the one to reach out every time, and it felt better that way; you liked the idea of him thinking about you, missing you, and having to bend to your schedule. Disturbing this fragile balance would be an admission of missing his presence and you don’t feel yet ready to let him know that – even though, there is no way he doesn’t know that you cherish those moments with him.

Of course, Hyungwon knows. It’s so obvious. Everything from the way you’re always playing so hard to get, to the way you fold at the slightest of his touch screams that you’re enjoying those moments with him. There is no point in playing those games and putting up those facades when the truth always comes out when your bodies collide. You reach for your phone, but to your surprise, he has already beat you to the chase.

HW, 01:37

I know you’re afraid of thunderstorms I’m coming to save you

You can’t help a smile, the kind of those you always try so hard to hide in front of him – the distant murmur of unidentified emotions was progressively becoming louder in your mind recently. At first, there was nothing, just an unescapable attraction that you hadn’t tried to suppress, then it became a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach every time Hyungwon showed up at your door, and now it felt like a fire – a beautiful and comforting thing, but also something dangerous and impossible to control. You know better than to play with fire, yet here you are, expecting not to get burned.

You, 01:41

I’m waiting for you then

You get up, taking the headphones off your ears. You were listening to one of Hyungwon’s songs anyway – one of those where you couldn’t help but ask yourself what it was all about. Was it only a fragment of his twisted imagination? You? Someone else? You had thought about asking him about it, but there was simply no way to ask him this question without bringing up a bigger issue that you want nothing to do with. It would either mean overexaggerating your importance in his life and thus exposing some sort of delusion he would have no choice but to squash and thus breaking something in you – or exposing yourself to the revelation that you were just one of many girls who had found your way into Hyungwon’s bed, and thus breaking something in you; and who could tell if what was broken today could be recovered later?

Well, Hyungwon‘s songs were explicitly talking about love, and whatever was between you and him was not love, you knew that much. There was lust and desire, a whole lot of it, and possibly appreciation, some form of friendship, but love? That was ridiculous. As you set to fix your appearance before he arrives, you let your mind wander on a question that is making your heart beat a thousand times per second: what will you do if you’re not the only one? What could have led you to believe that you could have been the only one? You were obviously not the only one sensitive to Hyungwon‘s charm. If you were ready to compromise a job and shit ton of money over a night with him, what were others willing to sacrifice? The realization is terrifying, and by the time you’re done getting ready, all that you can feel is bewilderment. While you were originally wearing the sweater he had forgotten the last time Hyungwon was at your place, you ended up throwing it in the pile of dirty laundry.

You only have time to get the kettle going before your doorbell rings twice. Sighing, you make your way to the door to open it, and without surprise, it’s him. All the upheaval you were feeling towards him disappears when you see how drenched he is, and how he doesn't seem to mind as he smiles at you in an oddly cute way. You watch him take off his beanie, before ruffling his equally sodden hair. Hyungwon‘s jacket is dripping water on the floor, but he casually takes it off before shoving it into your clothes dryer.

“You didn’t have to come,” you say, as he bends down to take off his shoes. You can see his body shivering slightly from the cold, as he rubs his hands together to warm them.

“I was nearby” Hyungwon replies, following you into the living room area. “I only got caught in the rain when I got off the car, don’t worry” he smiles again, checking something on his phone, before putting it away on the coffee table. You always ask that of him every time he comes, and it’s funny that he’s been here enough times already to have picked up this habit.

“You were at the studio?” you ask, not able to shake off the fact that you want to know what Hyungwon‘s doing when he’s not working and he’s not with you.

“Yes” he replies, running his hand through his hair “I spent the day trying to finish that one song, but nothing came. I ran out of ideas”Hyungwon crashes on the couch next to you, grabbing a cushion before closing his eyes.

“Is that why you wanted to come?” you ask, scooting closer to him so you can play with his still-damp hair. He doesn’t reply, and for a moment, you think he has fallen asleep.

“No. I just wanted to see you”Hyungwon says, relaxing into your touch. You hum at his response, and it hits you then: you will never have any insight into his day-to-day life. You’re bound to take his word for it and believe whatever he tells you. For all you know, he could have spent the day with another woman, and you’d be none the wiser.

“Am I supposed to believe that?” you ask, massaging his shoulders. He chuckles, turning his head towards you.

“Why not?”Hyungwon asks, massaging your thigh.

“We both know that’s a lie” you whisper, straddling his lap. You’ve made a mistake by introducing this topic, and the only way to get him to forget about it is to give him what he really came for. You pull on his hair to make him tilt his head back and kiss him. Hyungwon kisses back immediately, grabbing you by the waist to press your body tighter against his.

You can feel the fire you were picturing in your mind earlier burn your skin, and your whole body ignites. It’s been countless days since the last time you’ve seen Hyungwon, and it’s not until he touched you again that you realize how much you had missed this. His cute and chill attitude was only a façade because in no time he has you on your knees and ordered you to suck him off. You’re happy to follow his orders, relieved that he chose to get rid of his frustration rather than entertain your silly little feelings. You make quick work of his jeans, which he kicks under the small stone table in front of your couch, and immediately back to your task. Your eyes meet as you take as much of him as you can in your mouth, but it’s not enough – Hyungwon grabs your hair and presses your head on his cock so deep you can feel him in your throat. You barely have time to adjust to his size and he starts rocking his hips against your mouth, you can barely breathe and your eyes feel with tears.

He lets you go as you moan, and he falls back groaning against the couch. You go back for him, and this time he doesn’t have to do anything; you’re chasing the feeling so hard he hits the back of your throat every time. Hyungwon grips your hair a little softer this time and orders you to look at him. Once again, you follow his order, looking at him through teary eyes full of adoration, while he completely devours you with his gaze. His desire is so deep, so dark, that you can’t help but fear for what he’s going to do to you this time – he always manages to do the craziest things to you, to bring you places you didn’t even know your body could go. But tonight, Hyungwon has no time to play. He’s annoyed and frustrated, and your body is the perfect outlet to vent all those emotions. He gets up and throws you where he used to sit on the couch, then drags your shorts along with your underwear down to your ankles. He doesn’t even bother taking them off your body and plunges right into you. You gasp at the intrusion, your vision blurred by the sudden rush of pleasure; the grip Hyungwon has on your neck is painful and breathing is a little hard but coupled with the way he’s already fucking you so hard, it feels so good.

You’re lost in his eyes, as your mind gets cloudier and cloudier, and the pleasure gets too much, too soon, and that apart from your hand over his, from your nails against his chest, there’s nothing you can do. Hyungwon starts asking you how good he feels, how deep you can feel him, how much of a good girl you are – and it drives him absolutely insane when you do this, when you try to speak but can only form high-pitched moans and incoherent cries. It drives him insane how deep your voice gets the harder he goes; he lives for this. Hyungwon feels you clenching around him, and starts to rub your clit with his thumb, fast-charging the orgasm that was building up in the pit of your stomach for a while. It only takes a few minutes for you to gush all over the couch and on his face with a loud scream; body shaking uncontrollably off the couch – he’s pushed out of you but immediately comes back to pin you down and starts eating you out.

You’re way too sensitive for this, but Hyungwon doesn’t care, his strength is enough to lock you in place as he gives your body way more than it can handle. Your head is buzzing, and you can’t focus on anything but the feeling of his mouth sucking on your clit like his life depends on it. The pleasure is consuming and overwhelming, and yet you keep craving more, you make sure that his head is pressed against your core as hard as possible, which prompts him to insert two of his fingers inside of you and to start pumping. It’s enough to push you over the edge once more. This time you’re gushing so hard you can feel some of it spill on your face, and even with his two strong hands pinning you down, you’re shaking off the couch. When you look down at Hyungwon, the lower half of his face is covered in your juices, as well as the tip of his hair.

“Please” you start begging, but you barely manage to open your mouth that he’s back between your legs, devouring you so hard you’re fighting for your life to push him off you. You’re screaming and pushing back against him so hard, but Hyungwon remains unmovable, and with the fatal dance of his tongue and fingers, you’re overwhelmed by pleasure yet again. He manages to grab your legs before they give up on you and put them on his shoulders, you’re begging again – voice weak and tears filling your eyes, but he whispers a quick “shh” and slowly slides inside of you.

The moan that escapes from his lips is so beautiful, so deep, you can’t help but bite into your hand to muffle your screams. You want to hear him, only him. His pace is fast and punishing, but you want to hear and see him, no matter how hard it is. Hyungwon bends down and kisses you for the first time tonight and you can taste all of yourself on his tongue, on every part of his mouth, and just the thought of it drives you absolutely insane. You push a strand of black hair away from his face, as your gaze is lost in his; half-lidded eyes too afraid to look away, to lose the beauty of his face when he looks at you like this – like he absolutely hates every single thing about you, like he wants to destroy you. You want to be destroyed, though, so you grab one of his hands and place it around your neck.

“Faster” you beg, which makes him smile wickedly. Hyungwon closes his hand around your throat and picks up his pace. Your mouth forms a perfect o, and keeping your eyes open becomes impossible. You can feel him so deep it feels like he’s all up in your guts; you can’t suppress your moans anymore, and neither do you want to. He must know how good he makes you feel. “Faster” you repeat, even though you already can’t handle his current pace.

“You’re such a fucking slut” Hyungwon spits with a wicked grin, pressing his palm harder against your windpipe. “Begging for more of my cock when you can’t even handle this much” you put your hand over his, mirroring the smile on his face. Hyungwon keeps going, pressing his forehead against yours.

He’s caught off guard when you close your other hand around his throat, before ordering through batted breaths “I said faster.”Hyungwon chuckles, pushing your legs further onto the leather, he reaches deeper inside of you and starts fucking you even harder than before. You scream, so hard it resonates through the entire living room, and probably through the entire apartment as well. Had the floor not been yours, neighbors would have probably been knocking on your door and calling the cops by now, trying to save you from whoever was trying to hurt you. They wouldn’t know this was exactly what you wanted, being brought to this place where pleasure and pain met to form one overwhelming sensation – something you couldn’t help but crave each time you were laying with him. Your breath was stuck in your throat, and your body was right on edge, ready to fall headfirst into the most crushing orgasm since that last time in his studio. Just then, Hyungwon reaches down and starts rubbing on your clit, giving you just what you needed to sink for good.

This time there’s a deafening silence, during which your body is limp, unable to move except for your nails digging hard into his hand and his neck. You feel out of time and space, unable to think or to stand on your own. Hyungwon picks you up and makes his way to your bedroom, where he drops you on the bed before sinking two of his fingers back inside of you. You moan at the burning sensation, before gushing all over the sheets only after a few thrusts. He plunges right back, and resumes his fast, deep, punishing pace from before; you’re nothing more than a ragdoll at this point, submitted to the extreme violence of his desire without being able to push back against it – not that you wanted to. You couldn’t look at anything other than him, and how he was so focused on making you cum over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore; until all that was left was pain.

When you start to shake uncontrollably again, Hyungwon flips you on your back and dives right back, fucking so deep and hard that your body is sinking into the mattress – he has to push you against the headboard because you keep running from him. It’s overwhelming, him inside of you, his groans mixing with your screams, his hands slapping your cheeks, his heart beating against your skin; too much at the same time. You have no idea of how long you were doing this at this point, but you just wanted to take what he was giving you. Hyungwon grips your hair, forcing your head back against his chest, before grabbing your neck with his other hand. By the way he was breathing, you could tell that his end was close and that he was giving you everything he had left. Your arms gave up on you though, and you fall back on the sheets, but instead of picking you up, he lays on top of you.

Hyungwon nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck, breathing hard against your skin before stopping after a few more thrusts. You feel him coming and grab his hand, as you feel his cock twitch inside of you. The moan he lets out is the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard from him, it sent shivers down your spine, and you moan as he slowly fills you up. You try to turn over to lay on your back, but Hyungwon pushes your arm and starts kissing your neck and your shoulder. You stayed like that for a while – you couldn’t tell how long, but you were slowly drifting in and out of sleep when he finally got up. You finally turned over just as he’s back in the bedroom, holding a glass of water and towel in each hand. He puts the glass on your bedside table before kneeling before you on the bed. It’s the first time Hyungwon is cleaning you up, and it feels oddly intimate yet incredibly awkward; you grab the glass when he exits the room again, hugging your knees against your chest.

To be fair, Hyungwon has never come inside of you like that before – even though the contraception topic had been dealt with early on in your relationship. But what really bothers you is why you grabbed his hand earlier? It had felt so wholesome, so warm that you could almost think that it was lovemaking and not fucking. He startles you out of your thoughts when he comes back and slips under the sheets next to you.

“You okay?” Hyungwon asks, bringing you against his chest. His heart was still beating relatively fast, but so is yours so you don’t think too much of it. You hum in response, awkwardly holding your empty glass as if you were afraid of moving. You stay like that for a while, listening in on each other’s breathing without a move. You thought you could just fall asleep like this and rest until he had to go in the early morning, but his voice broke the silence.

“I was being serious, you know. I really wanted to see you tonight” Hyungwon starts, putting his head on yours. “The thunderstorm reminded me of you”

“Forget about that, I was just joking around” you sigh, running the tip of your nails along his skin. “You don’t have to justify yourself” Hyungwon furrows his brows, puzzled at your reaction, but he lets you talk nonetheless. “This was never meant to be more than just sex, so let it be just that...let’s not complicate things”

Hyungwon purses his lips and pretends to ignore the complex mix of emotions clouding his mind at your words and plays along. You look up at him, and he fakes a faint smile; when you nuzzle your head back in his chest, he starts playing with your hair, nursing you to sleep. When your breathing finally slows down, he sneaks out of your bed and puts on his clothes before disappearing without a word.

#monsta x smut #monsta x x reader #middle of the night #jooberry #monsta x #monbebe #Kpop smut #kpop angst #hyungwon x reader #hyungwon smut #monsta x hyungwon #chae hyungwon #monsta x imagines #hyungwon imagine

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bidisasterevankinard · 3 months

Text

Fuck it friday

tagged by @tizniz @jesuisici33 @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @wikiangela thank you<333 I missed my crossover fic so I wrote a little today. he is Jake and Buck's dynamic I can't wait to explore more cause I already love it way to much

“Jake, I don’t know about it,” but before Buck can continue to think of the reason why he can’t come to San-Diego, Jake already speaks.

“Listen here, Buckley. We have tried to get together for the last four years after I was in LA for three days to congratulate you on ending your probation year. I literally now live in the city in 3 hours drive from LA. And you died six months ago before it happened,” Jake is silent for a second, but Buck hears how he takes deep breath to take himself back together. Hearing how his death affected even his friends out of LA make him bite his lip so as not to cry. Painful reminder he should keep trying harder on therapy, should try to get better to help his family heal too. “So I’m not asking. You are bringing your pretty ass to San-Diego. I might even help to heal your heart after the recent break up with what is her name?”

“Natalia. And there’s nothing to heal,” Buck for a second considers if he should tell Jake the whole truth about the break up or not, but really he needs a friend and there is no one better to talk about Eddie because Jake is Buck’s only friend. Not Eddie’s found family too. “I broke up with her because I understood I’m in love with…” Buck takes a deep breath getting ready to say it for the first time to someone who is not Dr. Copeland, but Jake does it first.

“Eddie.”

The way the name of his best friend so easily slips from Jake’s mouth leaves Buck speechless with just one question which he almost scream.

“H-HOW?!”

“You talk about the guy all the time. You raise his, no, not his, his and yours son together. You talk about him like he put the sun, moon and stars in the sky. It was so easy,”Buck hears how Jake rolls his beautiful green eyes and he hopes the man feels how he shows him finger. “Do not show me finger, sweetheart. You know I’m right. I’m more shocked no one called you on this definitely not little crush on your hot bestie before me. And they see you two together.”

“Like no one calls you on your homoerotic comments about Rooster? Or how now do you want dick measure with the man not in figurative but real meaning?” Buck smirks when he hears how Jake tries to say something to deny it, but fails.

“How?”

Grinning, Buck takes a deep breath and perfectly repeating Jack's intonation begins to quote.

“Oh, Buck, Rooster is so cocky I hate his guts. Oh, Buck, this man irritates me so much I want to send him on fire. Buck, I saved this asshole today and we shook hands and I think we are going to be friends soon. Sweetheart, you will not believe who asked me about beer in Hard Deck without the team. Fuck, Buck Rooster abs somehow better than mine and it’s… irritates me so much,” Buck laughs remembering how the last part was said more like I-want-to-fuck-him and not this-guy-is-hotter-than-me-and-I'm-jealous. Buck knows the difference too well. He was friends with it for a moment. “I always feel like you would jump his bones the next time you see the man.”

“Said you”

“Touche.”

tagging @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @exhuastedpigeon @eddiescowboy @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @evanbegins @rainbow-nerdss @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @transboybuckley @underwater-ninja-13 @puppyboybuckley @paranoidbean @anakinfallen @spaceprincessem @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @devirnis @fortheloveofbuddie @gaydiaz @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @hoodie-buck @jeeyuns @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @caroandcats @cowboybuckleys @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @buddierights @mandzuking17 @monsterrae1 @malewifediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @hippolotamus and anyone who wants

#I was so sad and lazy all day but finally made myself write #I hope it's good #hangster and buddie crossover wip #my wips #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #evan buck buckley #911 #911 abc

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saphirered · 5 months

Note

I saw your autumn/winter prompts

It’d be cool for you to do some fluff with Ashton for either cold nights or thunder and lightning

Love your stuff!!!

More prompt requests incoming! 😘

Miserable. This weather feels absolutely miserable. Ashton is uses to the rain and thunder but now it’s fucking cold. Freezing, frigid cold and fuck does it hurt. They can feel it in their bones, their entire body just hurts, more so than usual. The jungle is fine, perfect even. It’s like home. But they’re far from home. The heart in the jungle, lies far beyond sight and perhaps even mind. This fey bullshit is something else entirely and Ashton doesn’t quite like it. The weather seems to hate them especially. If there’s some asshole watching over them making this all happen, he’ll personally see to it that there’s a nice and comfy spot in the earth about six feet under. Fuck.

All of those emotions disappear though. A burst of light illuminates the skies and with it your face. You look up at the sky and admire the tendrils flash before the disappear as quickly as they came. You’re a beautiful sight- It is a beautiful sight. Fuck. You’re beautiful. They’re in deep. Once upon a time Ashton thought this was fun while it lasted. A little teasing and flirting never hurt anybody but the line had blurred a long time ago. Ashton caught feelings and it’s very few times they’re unsure about anything. Your lips move but your voice is drowned out by the sound of crashing thunder.

“Hah?!” Ashton leans in closer to hear as the ground shakes once more.

“I said we should find some shelter!” You all but shout pointing at the sky and take their hand. So much for venturing off on your own and having a little voyage ‘back in an hour’. You hope the others have the mind to find shelter too. You send them a message just in case as you pull the genasi along through the trees and rocks until you stumble upon a cave. You’re not taking any risks and the lightning is getting closer. From here you’d be safe with cover, and still able to witness nature in all it’s grandeur.

Letting himself be dragged along Ashton isn’t opposed to the shelter you’ve found because with his track record he wouldn’t put it behind any mischievous fey to set the gold in those cracks to attract the lightning. On the other side they too are a little curious to see what would happen… Maybe another time. Ashton curls and uncurls their fingers, rotates their wrists when you let go and take a look out at the oncoming clouds hiding the moonlight, or dusk-light should be more appropriate. You stay at the mouth of the cave to watch another rumble hit the earth in a cacophony and the lightning, quick as it passes makes this cave all the darker. Ashton can’t see shit and in an attempt to find a wall loses their footing. A crack, that’s luckily hidden by thunder saves most of the hit to his pride. But then fire glow appears in the palm of your hand.

“Why are you on the ground?” You hide a chuckle as you watch Ashton give up on, life, existence, everything laying on their back, legs bent at the knees and groan.

“I just wanted to be one with my element.” They speak as casually as they can but your brow furrows and you take a tentative step closer, and another and another. You kneel down and help Ashton sit up. Groans are not just a casual annoyance at this place, but something of discomfort. You caught on. Shit.

“I can give you two a moment if you’d prefer but I don’t think that’ll do you much good.”

“There’s room for one more. Plenty of the earth to go around.” Ashton jokes.

“I was hoping there’d be plenty of you but I can settle for the rocks beneath my feet.” You jest and Ashton scoffs though the attitude is quick to slip when your arm hand touches their back. Even through their jacket, the warmth offers such a relief. “You doing okay?” Again your brow furrows.

“Yeah. Yeah sure.” And so the comfort disappears. You pull back and just sit on your knees, hands gathered in your lap. Disapproval crosses your features.

“Sure.” You deadpan and grab onto Ashton’s wrist, uncurling the fingers gently and clasping his hand between yours. You bring it to your lips and blow warm air. It doesn’t take much to see the instant relief cross their features.

“Okay maybe I’m not entirely okay.” The look you give them is much akin to ‘ya think?’ and it hurts to admit to the way it makes Ashton feel inside. Then your features soften. You look out towards, the oncoming storm, to the lightning reaching out, and the wind rustling through the trees picking up.

“Sit with me.” You simply say. It’s not quite a question as much as it is an order and Ashton does feel like they have a choice. It’s just a very tempting one despite their disdain for authority and following orders. You shift from your knees until you’re comfortable, looking out over the horizon. Everything seems so much easier when he looks at you. Everything is. You make it so because any doubt falls away. Ashton knows they’re on the right path because you’re there and as long as you walk it with them they’ll keep walking with you.

Ashton shifts and sits next to you. He bumps your shoulder with his. You chuckle and bump back, though much likes the rock around, they don’t budge. The cold pain creeps up again and almost as if you know exactly what to do, you wrap an arm around their back, slipping your fingers under the jacket and lean your head on their shoulder. Just your sheer presence, and a little magic manages to numb the pain and that’s more than Ashton can say the majority of people they’ve had in their life have ever been able to do.

“You’re so fucking confusing.” Ashton speaks before they think.

“Wow, so much affection.” You scoff but pull closer.

“You are.” Ashton doubles down. “You’re a fucking disaster waiting to happen.”

“But I’m your disaster.” You poke a finger at his chest.

“Are you?” Again, speaking before thinking but that seems to be the right track. You take a deep sigh and Ashton’s heart stops, their breath stops. Time stops. There’s not but anticipation, both joy and dread loom overhead and they’re just stupid fucking feelings because end of the day you’re just you and you’re fucking amazing. That’s what you are. You’re fucking amazing.

“I don’t know. Am I?” The both of you look at another lightning bolt striking close by. Ashton gives it a moment, letting the trembles of the earth fade and the light too, not but the dim orb behind the two of you offering the littlest of light.

“Maybe you are. If you think you can handle it.” He looks down nudging your head from his shoulder.

“First off, rude-“

“You’re the one using my shoulder as pillow, find a rock or something.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Will you now?”

“Yeah. A nice and comfy one.” You’re unreadable. That’s dangerous. Next Ashton knows you’re on your knees at their side, back facing the exit of the cave, your warmth has disappeared from their back but settles on their shoulders. It takes everything to not lean into the touch. Not that they have to because you lean closer.

“This one seems plenty comfortable.” You close the gap, press your lips to Ashton’s. While you’ve shared your flirty kisses before they were just that. This kiss is different. This kiss is a lifetime unfolding however long it might last. This moment is as bright and beautiful as the flashes beyond the cover. You’re like a warm fire in the cold dead night and are simply a relief. You’re a certainty in their life when they have known so little. This might not be eternity but this is certain. You’re certain because you’re just fucking you and that’s all you’d ever need to be. Cover from a thunderstorm isn’t so bad out here.

#critical role x reader #bells hells x reader #ashton greymoore x reader #ashton x reader #bells hells #critical role #critical role fanfiction #ashton greymoore

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bradshawed · 11 months

Note

okay so i’m thinking angel eyes <3 … neighbour!peterparker? i am an absolute sucker for roommate and/or neighbour au’s! maybe the reader notices him sneaking back into his apartment through his window after saving the city or something… and he realises that the reader was watching and he’s like oooh shit 😳🏃‍♂️

join the party!

your mind omg, i absolutely fell in love with the plot! hope i did it justice and i’m so sorry for the late reply, love you loads and thank you so much for sending in this lovely ask!

When was the last time you looked up at the stars? Like really looked up at the stars and revelled at their beauty? Well for you, it was one week ago tonight when everything changed…

You couldn’t sleep. Or to be more accurate, you never really could sleep but tonight, you felt a little more restless than usual. You wanted to do something, and all that excess energy needed to go somewhere.

You tried dancing in your living room to one of your playlists until you heard a banging on your door telling you to turn it down. You’d attempted baking but quickly decided against that since you had no chocolate to put in the cookies (you’d eaten it all a couple days ago). And well since both of those had put a slight dampener on your mood, you took one look out of your window and bundled up in a duvet and a hoodie, venturing out onto the fire escape.

Sitting up on the creaky metallic structure, staring up at the sky, you nearly missed the red and blue figure flying through the air. You definitely didn’t, however, miss him climbing through your neighbour’s window. Or what felt like an hour long pause as you both looked at each other in shock before he fell into the room.

Do you call the police? Scream for help? What even was an appropriate response to Spiderman climbing into the apartment of the guy you’ve been crushing on since you’d moved in.

If Tangled had taught you anything, it had been that a frying pan could come more in handy than you’d expect. So, armed, you ventured back onto the fire escape and into your neighbour’s apartment.

Breaking and entering was definitely not on your bingo card for the year, neither was seeing Peter Parker half naked in his Spiderman suit but you definitely had no complaints on that one.

Screams filled the air as if it was a moment straight out of a comic book. And then his hand slapped on your mouth to prevent another noise complaint.

“When I let go, you have to promise me you won’t scream or run away. Okay?” You nodded the best you could, eyes still wide in shock in the darkness of his room.

“You’re Spiderman.” Peter/Spiderman held back an eye roll, gesturing to his half-off suit which caused your face to heat up..holy shit that boy had abs. Holy shit, he was half naked. You were in his room. Peter Parker is Spiderman.

Peter, sensing your panic, glanced up at you asking for your consent before guiding you to his bed. With your head dramatically in your hands, Peter took the opportunity to get changed before sitting down next to you.

Running a hand through his hair he began, “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out..at all but what you saw, it’s true.” He gently pried your fingers from your face, “I’m not going to hurt yo-”

“I know that. Well I um, you’re you, you couldn’t hurt anyone if you’d tried well I mean not the good guys and I promise I won’t tell anyone that my cute neighbour is Spiderman and- Oh my god, you weren’t meant to hear that. Not that I don’t think you’re cute but- I mean you are cute, I just- I really need to shut up and I’m so sorry for breaking and entering and nearly hitting you with a frying pan-”

At this Peter raised an eyebrow, his lips gently forming a smirk, “I think you’re pretty cute too.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “You know for attempting to hit me with a frying pan and staring at my abs.” You shoved Peter off the bed.

#drew replies!#drew’s dahlias #ily <3 #100 celebration ⭐️#pretty happy with how this one turned out #and i hope u like it ml!#peter parker #peter parker blurb #peter parker drabble #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you

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aanoia · 9 months

Text

arms

Sirius Black x reader

Song; arms by Christina Perri

Words; 2019

Warnings; Sirius :)

I may have went a little overboard with the wedding but oh well

Please send in some requests (for ppl who have already requested I'm working on them !!)

I never thought that you'd be the one to hold my heart

But you came around and you knocked me off the ground from the start

It was no secret to anyone in Hogwarts that Sirius Black hated Slytherins. He had vowed to himself to never interact with one if not in the circumstance of an argument or prank. He’d honestly say he hated Slytherins more than he loved his best friends, and he would never ever, ever change his mind that they were evil.

Imagine the boy's surprise when he looked up from his food and his eyes momentarily caught sight of the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Her hair fell perfectly around her face as her eyes shined. She had the most beautiful smile and the cutest nose that scrunched up as she laughed with her friends. Everything about the girl put him in a trance, that was until his world was shook as he saw the color of her tie. How could something so beautiful be associated with something so ugly?

You put your arms around me

And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go

You put your arms around me and I'm home

Sirius’ body instantly relaxed as a familiar pair of arms wrapped around his torso. Y/n softly kissed in between his shoulder blades and sighed as she relished in his warmth. He dropped the letter he had received from his parents and put his hands upon hers, squeezing gently.

“Hello there, Siri.” Y/n greeted, her voice muffled by Sirius’ jumper.

He laughed softly, “Hello, love. What’s up?”

Sirius felt her shoulders move up in a shrug, “Missed you, is all.” She mumbled and his heart warmed. The sorting hat had to have made a mistake because this girl was no Slytherin, she was an angel sent from the heavens.

How many times will you let me change my mind and turn around

“I’m sorry, Y/n/n. I just can’t do this.” Sirius said with tears in his eyes. He watched as the love of his life wiped her own tears off her cheeks and gave him a broken smile.

“Come back to me when you’re ready, yeah?”

Sirius shook his head, “It’s not like that this time. I’m not coming back.”

“You say that every time.”

I can't decide if I'll let you save my life or if I'll drown

Sirius clutched the chest of his jumped tightly, gritting his teeth in an attempt to keep his sobs silent. His heart felt as it was being choked as the lump in his throat grew. The cool air of the night brushed its fingers through Sirius’ hair and he looked to the sky with blurry eyes, resisting the urge to just scream until his lungs gave out.

Trapped in his own bubble, he missed the sound of footsteps walking up the stairs of the astronomy tower. He missed the door opening and the loud thud of an old, hardcover book hitting the ground. All he knew was the moment familiar arms wrapped around his shoulders he broke and he finally let the sobs leave his throat.

I hope that you see right through my walls

I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Y/n quietly asked her boyfriend as he silently watched his friends play chess by the fire.

He turned his head with a small smile, “Whatever do you mean, beautiful?”

Y/n sighed and grabbed his hand, “You play with your necklace when you’re stressed out. You’ve been fiddling with it all day, Siri.”

Sirius’ smile fell and his head dropped, “It just sucks.”

Y/n gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into her chest. “What sucks, my love?”

Sirius let out a dramatic sigh, “Everything. My parents. Sch- wait, how are you in here?” He asked abruptly, sitting up to look his girlfriend in the face.

She smirked, “I have my ways.”

I'll never let a love get so close

You put your arms around me and I'm home

“What’s so special about her, Pads? You’ve never let a girl do this to you.” James asked Sirius as they cleaned up after Quidditch practice.

Sirius smiled as he got a familiar glint in his eyes, “She’s my Lily, Prongs. She’s my everything.”

James laughed and shook his head, sighing to himself, “Never thought I’d see my best friend genuinely be in love with a girl. I’m happy for you, mate.”

The world is coming down on me and I can't find a reason to be loved

I never wanna leave you but I can't make you bleed if I'm alone

“Sirius, you need to stop!” Y/n yelled, the rain soaking her hair, she couldn’t tell what was raindrops and what was her own tears.

“No! No, I won’t! I’m done, this isn’t working!” He sobbed, stumbling back.

“Sirius, goddamnit, I love you! I fucking love you!”

He shook his head bitterly, “No, no you don’t. The two people who are supposed to love me unconditionally kicked me out for fucks sake! No one fucking loves me, Y/n! No one!”

“I do!” She reasoned. “I do. I love you and I get it. I get why you don’t think anyone can love you but I do, Siri. Please.”

You put your arms around me

And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go

Sirius fell to his knees, his body shaking, he could barely hear her over the rain and blood rushing to his head. She knelt in front of him and wrapped her arms around his body, holding on impossibly tight.

“I need you to, please, just let me love you. I need you to- Fuck, Sirius, I need you.” She begged and he threw his arms around her as well.

“Don’t let me go, please.” Sirius whispered in Y/n’s ear.

She nodded, “I won’t. Never.”

I hope that you see right through my walls

I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling

Y/n froze as she felt Sirius tense beside her and she looked up. Her face dropped as she saw his mother angrily storming towards them.

“Come on, we must go. I’d like to go back to the castle and cuddle for a while.” She said and pulled him out of the shop and into the busy streets.

“Sirius!” They heard faintly and the man flinched.

“No, it’s okay. Come on, let’s hurry. We can stop by the kitchens and the elves like me so they’ll probably make us something if we ask nicely, yeah?” Y/n asked gently, trying to distract him and they hurried up the path.

Sirius nodded with a small smile, “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

Sirius furrowed his brows, “Taking me away from my mom?”

Y/n laughed, “You’re mom? Where? Have you hit your head, Sirius?” She asked with a teasing smile.

I'll never let a love get so close

You put your arms around me and I'm home

“I’m so lucky to have you.” Sirius whispered late at night. The soft snores from James and the quiet breathing from the rest of the Marauders being the only sounds in the room.

“Yeah?” Y/n asked, smiling.

“Yeah.”

“I love you too, Sirius.”

I tried my best to never let you in to see the truth

And I've never opened up

I've never truly loved

“I’ve never, like- I’ve never-” Sirius groaned angrily, not being able to find the words.

Y/n crossed her arms, “Never what, Sirius?”

He sighed, “I’ve never done this before. And I really don’t want you to be frustrated with me because I’m trying but I don’t- I don’t know how.” He confessed and the girls face softened.

“Oh, Sirius.” She pulled him into a gentle hug. “I’m so sorry for getting angry. It’s okay that you don’t know what to do. Truthfully, I don’t either. But we’ll figure it out, okay? Together.”

Sirius nodded, finding comfort in her hugs, “Together.”

'Till you put your arms around me

And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go

“Are you sure you want to be with me?” Sirius asked randomly.

Y/n smiled at her boyfriend, “Never been more sure of anything in my life. Except for maybe Potter being a dimwit, but you know what I mean.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“I’ll put a bandaid on. Easy peasy.”

I hope that you see right through my walls

I hope that you catch me, 'cause I'm already falling

I'll never let a love get so close

“Marriage is a joyous occasion. It is connected in our thoughts with the charm of love, the warmth of home, and with all that is pleasant, as being one of the most important events of our lives. Its sacredness and unity is the most significant and binding covenant known in human relations. Sirius and Y/n, let me charge you both to remember that your future happiness is to be in mutual consideration, patience, kindness, confidence, and affection. It is the duty of each of you to find your greatest joy in the company of the other; to remember that your love pledged today must remain undivided for a lifetime.” The priest recited with a smile on his face.

Sirius smiled at his soon to be wife, a single tear slipping down his cheek. Y/n gently wiped it from his face and brought her hand back to her side with a wide smile, tears filling her own eyes.

“It is your duty, Sirius, to be to Y/n, a considerate, tender, faithful, and loving husband: to support, guide and cherish her in prosperity and trouble; to thoughtfully and carefully enlarge the place she holds in your life; to constantly show to her the tokens of your affection, to shelter her from danger, and to love her with an unchangeable love.” Sirius nodded, dedicated to fulfilling everything he just said.

“It is your duty, Y/n, to be to Sirius, a considerate, tender, faithful, and loving wife; to comfort, guide and cherish him in prosperity and trouble; to give to him the unfailing pieces of evidence of your affection; and to continue making the place he holds in your heart, broader and deeper; to support him, value him and work with him to make your marriage the very best that it can be.”

You put your arms around me and I'm home

“If you are ready to assume the obligations and duties before God, as I have defined them, you will unite your hands and pledge your love and your lives to each other.” Sirius grabbed onto Y/n’s hands, rubbing small and soothing circled onto her soft skin. The priest looked at Sirius, “Groom, repeat after me. I, Sirius, take you, Y/n, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

“I, Sirius, take you, Y/n, to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

“To have and to hold, from this day forward.”

“For better, for worse.”

“For richer, for poorer.”

“In sickness and in health.”

“To love and to cherish.”

“For as long as we may live.”

“This is my solemn vow.”

The priest smiled, “Very good. Now bride, please repeat after me.” The two went through the same speech, having to stop a few times as Y/n’s voice cracked. “Sirius, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Sirius nodded, “I do.”

“Y/n, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Of course, I do.”

The priest nodded, “Groom, you may kiss the bride.”

Sirius immediately brought their lips together as everyone cheered. Y/n wrapped her arms around Sirius’ neck, never feeling happiness quite like this.

You put your arms around me and I'm home

Taglist (if you'd like to be added comment :))

@loving-and-dreaming @1lellykins

#aanoia #romance #marauders era #remus lupin #the marauders #james & peter & remus & sirius #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius being sirius #harry potter #peter pettigrew #Spotify

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redemptioninterlude · 1 year

Note

Tag a quality blog, You’re it! Quality doesn’t means that you have a lot of followers, or a lot of messages. It means that you’re nice to other people, and you deserve to be happy. If you get this message, someone is telling you that they love you as you are, and they don’t care how many followers you have. Send this to 15 blogs who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing will happen. But it’s just good to let someone know that you love them. 💙

random love in the inbox ( always accepting ) + @wndrbcy

omg shayyyyy my sweet sweet baby! thank you so much, i mean i feel i’m trash™ but i will take this undeserved praise because you’re a darling and i adore you and i know you’d insist. i hope you know how much i absolutely adore and love you and - i’m gonna make sure i tag these other super deserving blogs down below because tumblr is a dick and caps you at 10 asks.

@ofchaotics - oh my god elllll my sweet baby, my honey, muva made it home. but i think the memories of ATL are gonna hang with us for a while, like, we did that, we did the 12 hours and barricade and beautiful moments staring up at that beautiful man and just in general you are the realest fucking bitch of all time and i fucking love you for that. like, a true ride or die, and i’m seriously so fucking happy we met out of that absolute disaster of a group chat, and i feel that out of everything, it was definitely worth all of it for us to come together as an absolute menace duo. thanks for always indulging my absolute worst and best self at once, and keeping me humble. love you bestie!

@sunxsin - kayyyy jfc where did you come from, the last 2 months have been like??? incredible??? who are you??? like literally it was sewww funny thinking back to when i was like wait are you the ling i have from tumblr like... and you being like NAH, then not expecting everything that came to follow like ; seriously? you’re a fucking whole ass gem and i’m so so glad we connected through the gv and you’ve just been absolutely fucking brilliant and charlie is so right you NEED YOUR PASSPORT ALREADY, like wtf vancity would be a whole fucking trip and just urghhhhh i adore you, you can’t leave, thanks.

@prettydead - oh phantom. how many years now? we’ve really fucking been THROUGH IT babes, and honestly i think you know by now that i would absolutely stab a bitch for you. people are insane, but you manage to come through all of it as sensitive and lovely as you’ve always been and i think it’s such a beautiful thing for you and just - darling. you’re a peach, like, seriously for real. next time i’m in new york you ARE coming from jersey and we ARE going for a fabulous lunch and we WILL hug out what 5 years worth of knowing each other ought to hug out to. you’re beautiful. i love you. that’s all.

@killjoysanonymous - oh em gee. lmao. like honestly i’m... like you know what i’m gonna say. losing each other and finding one another again was just such - like yes. i’m glad. even with all the weird shit that went around it, i’m glad because it allowed us to open up and talk about so much more without all that heaviness hanging over everything and like. watching you grow, thrive, and become this like, amazing person ( well, you’ve always been amazing, but you know what i mean ) has been just a fucking treat. you’ve seriously conquered mountains and are living your best life, and i’m just lucky to be your friend.

@chmerical - fio! fiolicious! jk or am i, anyways, like, fio you’re such a brilliant rper and i’m literally left in awe of you like all the time. watching you play such layered, glorious, and amazing muses has been my little secret delight these last few months, and i’m like, really glad we got this chance to meet because i’ve always secretly loved reading your writing from afar with other people. i always felt shy because i never knew enough about the series before to know how to get involved but now i’m like, all in, all strapped, all ready, you know? plus lol, you’re my cunt in arms against the stupidity of the world.

@wiredsmile - abi! jfc can you believe we first met through another phantom original years ago? like i think what i love is how so much of your optimism, charm, and positivity has remained, you’re just like, this whole force of a human being and it literally is so cool. i wish i had that sometimes because i swear you’re always like, the first to shake shit off and be like KAY WHATEVER LET’S GOOOO, and you’re amazing for that seriously. also i mean i love your muses? the softest, sweetest fluffs? like?? the dynamics we make always shake my fucking heart omfg.

@feralsmile - siren! ok another new buddy but like??? what a girl, seriously, you’ve been so fun and so game and so great to plot with to try a bunch of shit and i love that our spaghetti throwing has come out with such great little dynamics through everything and that you’re so excited and wanna do more with it and i just love love love how just your creativity works. not to mention the like, 5-10 videos i get a day of you reminding me that you’re thinking of me LMFAOOOO you’re such a trip girl, i can’t wait to have you around for an age and then some.

@bubblaegum - evieeee omg ok so you already know i was out here like. i know this bitch, i know her, i KNOWWWW i know her, that then everything from there but like? i love how time has given us so much like, we got the chance to find each other at different stages and see all these great moments and just it’s so lovely being around you again and like - who could have anticipated you loving on bonnie so much LMAO it serious is amazing and like. so are you. and i mean that! i hope you really feel it on the day to day too, because i appreciate you a ton, and you are worthy of so so so much.

@sylkshe - heathyn you are just insanely creative. i have no other way to put it because it’s just like TRUE you know like, you come out swinging, you’re never one to shy away from putting complex stories together for people typically shunned, and you’re just... you know, this stunning person from end to end inside. i feel really glad we got to meet because i am adoring your take on all the muses you’ve been playing, and just ani in general like what a sweet little fluff of a girl who deserves the world, just like you! wishing your move all the best luck the planet can spit up!

@petitsdieu - mel. i don’t know where to start. you might be like wait why am i here but seriously you’re such a fucking force to write with and like. you really inspire some of my best writing whenever we throw our girls together. hara is just such a beautiful and chaotic soul and you are too along with her, and i feel really fucking thankful that after all these years we still manage to put out something so incredibly delicate and lush that my eyes just fucking water over it. you’re amazing. the end.

@xamassed - ariel i don’t know how else to put it but i’m just consistently in awe of how much you do. you’re amazing at everyone you write, your consistency is incredible, and just the amount you can do with everything in the chaos of life around you is like. superhuman. i aspire to be like you with all that seriously, like your quality and amazingness knows no bounds and i feel really lucky that you noticed me despite my mid-ass blog so like, thank you for being willing to take a chance on meeeeee!

@dangaer - jupiter you’re like. seriously one in a million. you have flawless taste and most of the time i’m like why are you even writing with a scrub like me, but i appreciate the fuck out of the fact that we do and that you’re just amazingly talented and so good at exploring really crazy topics with your muses. yeah it’s not always like sweet and nice but you give such colour to villains and i love all the things we’ve come up with and you’re just.. urgh. i love getting replies from you, period.

@finalsurvivorgrp - i hope it’s not weird i threw you on this! i’m just like, seriously wanted to reiterate just how great of a writer i think you are, how your muses are incredible, and just how i always have like, quietly loved your blog from afar. i’m glad that i picked up that random starter despite being nervous about it, because your grasp on horror is just peak amazeballs and i’m just really lucky to have the chance to write with you.

@temporalobjects - what can i say? just. in the years you’re just always dedicated, amazing, and your muses are great. i’m always so happy when we start writing again, and i’m always in lust with your fucking art. you’re just a consistently cool human being and i love whenever i see you on the dash, it’s like an instant smile and a, damn, i hope they’re doing well kind of feeling. can’t wait to do more with you as always!

@wndrbcy - oh shay, my sweet little butterfly. of course you needed to get this back, and i wanted to make sure you were like damn am i really gonna get this, and the answer ofc is yet. it’s so funny that we’ve managed to connect over the years and carry on cool plots and seriously i fucking just love what we do and how we’re trying new things and how freaky it gets sometimes whenever you’re around because you’re just a lovely human. i know life is hard, but i hope us being friends maybe makes it a bit nicer because you definitely brighten my day. thank you for sending this, particularly on a day where i’ve felt like damn, i’m just nawt that great, and reminding me that i have a place here. love you, to the moon and back.

#ofchaotics #sunxsin #prettydead #killjoysanonymous #chmerical #wiredsmile #feralsmile #bubblaegum #sylkshe #petitsdieu #xamassed #dangaer #finalsurvivorgrp #temporalobjects #wndrbcy #❝ ooc ❞ ┆ mun answers ┆ if no one's putting numbers on the board !#❝ saved ❞ ┆ beautiful moments ┆ so put your fire up in the sky !

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lauraneedstochill · 10 months

Text

Love always wakes the dragon / Chapter 2

summary: Aemond thinks she’s a worthy opponent — a relentless fighter, a fearless dragon rider, her temper and stubbornness only matching his. But there’s a catch: she is Daemon’s daughter who wants nothing from her father and has her own reasons for coming to King’s Landing. One of them is meant to save the other. pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OFC words: ~ 8000 (I swear other chapters are shorter I just got carried away with the ass-kicking) warnings: enemies to lovers, slowburn, sword fighting and a bruised male’s ego author’s note: I’ve read a few fighting scenes and, as much as I enjoyed them, I always thought people go easy on Aemond. so I decided to make him sweat a little... also, I added an instrumental track that fits the fight scene perfectly, and I highly recommend you put it on! ⏪ part 1

2. The Wild Dragon

The dragonkeepers form a small crowd — as Daemon approaches, he sees the men standing still and gazing at the sky, the lack of movement making them look like statues. He hears a low buzzing of gasps and when he looks up, he finds himself in the same position, stunned and open-mouthed. The dragon is circling above the alcove, its wings stretched like a snow-white sail, and the rare, blinding beauty of it makes it hard to look away. The patch of bronze starts from beneath its neck, running down to the tail — the color mix brings back a certain memory of his, and Daemon finds himself lost in his thoughts for a moment.

Only when the dragon goes to the fourth round, the prince comes to his senses:

“Why isn’t it landing?”

One of the dragonkeepers turns to him and hesitantly points to the other corner of the gates, and Daemon only now notices a group of guards lined up with swords in their arms, looking far from being delighted. The prince groans in annoyance, his flash of anger diluted with a drop of guilt.

“Are you out of your mind?!” he yells. “Lower your weapons, you imbeciles!”

The guards retreat and the dragonkeepers back away, too, still keeping their eyes on the beast — in worry, in wonder. He circles once more and then finally flies down, and Daemon catches a glimpse of the rider — her clothes are dark, cloak withering on the wind. He feels his chest tightening with each gust, the long-forgotten feeling rousing in; he can’t remember the last time he’s been so profusely nervous.

The white dragon lands with a grace of a cat — moving paws in synch, it lowers the neck and folds the wings, its limber body huddling closer to the ground. There’s a sharpness to its features, half of his snout crisscrossed with scars, his scales coarse up close, pale and solid like ivory. The beast’s eyes focus on Daemon for a moment, its color strikingly bright, with a few specks of gold that sink in green when the dragon glares at the guards, with the damning force being the crux of his every move. A rumbling vibrates in the back of his throat but it doesn’t grow into a roar — it’s a warning on itself that the beast gives them before slowing its movement, condescending and merciful, much to everyone’s relief.

The rider jumps down, landing on both feet, and then puts the hood back so Daemon can take a closer look at her. Merely a second is enough to see — she’s an image of her mother, in every feature of her face and even in the way she moves, a rare fusion of gracious and fast-paced. Her hair is put into a braid, the color of it so rare he’s only seen it once before — it’s peaches mushed with snow, a vibrant bronze with a coating of milk. In the sunlight, it looks as bright as fire, but right through it cuts a thick strand that frames one side of her face with white, the shade of it matching Daemon’s head of hair. And when he meets her gaze, he notices that she has his eyes: the shape is a bit different, more round, but they are the same color and there’s a familiar, threatening heaviness in them. It’s only two pieces of the puzzle that she’s assembled of, but now that Daemon sees her, he has no doubts that she is, in fact, his daughter, and that feeling is almost flattering.

She doesn’t look flattered in the slightest.

When she eyes him briefly, she shows no emotion at all — uncaring, casually unimpressed. It becomes awkwardly silent, and Daemon realizes that he’s never been that good at making the first step. But maybe it’s time for him to try.

“There was no mention of the dragon in the letters,” his voice comes off a tad softer than usual, and he keeps his distance but his enthusiasm fuels him to shorten it.

“Well, surprise,” she deadpans and pats the dragon, her gloved hand gliding against the scales, a small bag clenched in the other one. “Seemed like you took more interest in discussing other matters. What is the proper way of greeting you? Should I curtsy?” she asks, looking at Daemon again, and he isn’t sure if she’s jesting, her tone matching the unreadable expression on her face. “I must apologize for my manners in advance, I’m afraid.”

Her straightforwardness brings a smile to his face.

“We can get the formalities out of the way,” the prince steps closer, standing only a couple of feet away from her. “I would like to welcome you to King’s Landing, lady — ”

“There is no need for that,” she speaks with a tone that leaves no room for discussion. “You know I am no lady, nor am I seeking any titles. You can call me Lia.”

“But that is not your name,” he says almost hesitantly, a line of confusion settling in between his brows. Daemon is suddenly questioning every piece of information he knows — or rather the lack thereof.

“That is a part of it,” her answer sounds well-rehearsed as she dispassionately tears syllables. “That’s how my mother called me, so I am quite used to it.”

Even with her name cut in half, she has more authority than the most decorated lords, Daemon thinks. It’s both inexplicable and intriguing, and he holds on to that thought — until it collides with another one, tardy and grim: when she talked about her mother, she used the past tense.

Memories get their claws into his heart as he’s reminded of Baela and Rhaena clinging to him, their muffled weeping and grief-stricken eyes. He knows that the pain of losing a mother leaves a mark that will never be erased — but kind words and a shoulder to cry on can at least help ease the suffering.

Daemon moves with the intention of opening his arms, his chest is a harbor of acceptance when he asks:

“How’s your mother been doing?” and he already suspects the answer will bring more death into his life.

Lia blinks once, twice, then says — plain and simple:

“She died.”

It sounds as mundane as discussing the weather, and Daemon is startled by the lack of sentiment. It was, indeed, uncharacteristically naive of him to expect her to rush into his arms. But her guard is up so high he feels like he’s facing an actual wall, and it makes him anxious — and that’s not what he is used to deal with when it comes to his own children.

But before Daemon can express his concern, he hears a disgruntled snarl — they both turn to see the white dragon coiled into a defensive stance, his eyes are the color of burning green leaves. A couple of dragonkeepers are approaching him falteringly, and Lia raises her voice at the beast:

“Olwen!”

His dilated pupils dart to her, and the snarling abates, but his wrath bolsters, and now he’s nothing less of a pure danger. Both his and her eyes are trained on the men, and as one of them comes closer, Lia catches a dull glint of metal in his hands.

“No chains are needed,” she instantly speaks up.

“It is a matter of precaution, we mean no harm —”

“I said,” Lia steps in front of the man, “my dragon will not be chained.”

Her tone immediately loses the light coating of friendliness — if there ever was any to begin with, — it gets remorseless and strident, and she allows no objections. The dragonkeeper looks at her helplessly then turns his gaze to Daemon, waiting for the instructions.

“They want to make sure he stays in the cave,” he clarifies peacefully.

“He doesn’t do well with chains,” Lia discloses, not moving from her spot. Daemon notes that all her responses are ill-defined which makes him wonder if she does it consciously or not. Whatever her reasoning is, it only leaves more questions than answers.

“Will he do well with other dragons?”

“Olwen will be on his best behavior,” her reply comes out too harsh, scathing, so she tones it down a bit. “Put him in any closed space, and he will sleep for days, he won’t care about anything else,” she gives an explanation almost charitably. But he accepts it.

Daemon casts an evaluating glance at the beast and then gestures for the dragonkeepers to stand back.

“I’ll lead the way,” he doesn’t need to turn around to know that she’s following him — her eyes land on his back like a punch.

They pass the gate, going through rows of columns carved into the stone surface and illuminated by the torches on the walls. Daemon strains to pick up any sound the dragon makes that can be alarming but he only hears the crunch of the beast’s footsteps and occasional sniffing. Looking over his shoulder, he is surprised to see that Olwen tags along, as obedient as a dog, not reacting to the unknown environment nor the distant roars of other dragons. Once they reach his cave, the beast merely gives it a look-over before settling down cozily in the darkest corner. Lia leaves the bag tucked under his wing and glances at Olwen with the faintest of a smile, but it disappears once she turns to her father.

They walk back in silence but unlike her dragon, Lia takes more interest in her surroundings — she examines weaves of caves and tunnels, looking around after every sharp turn. Daemon watches her out of the corner of his eye, vigilant and hopeful, as he keeps fighting the desire to please her, to be liked by her, this stranger that has his blood but acts like she wants none of it. He opens the carriage door for her, smothering his ego, but Lia hesitantly looks inside, and he guesses that she’d rather go on horseback. Yet she concedes, sensing his determination to bond. He thinks it’s a small step in the right direction.

Lia sits closer to the window, her interest seemingly flaring up even more. That or she doesn’t want to be near Daemon, and he brushes off the latter. He wants to offer his condolences but is afraid her wall of defense will turn into a mountain he won’t be able to climb so he chooses a safer option:

“How was your journey? Finding the Dragonpit didn’t pose a problem for you, it seems.”

“The maps you sent were very detailed, thank you,” Lia doesn’t turn to him, her eyes glued to the road as she keeps her focus on the landscape that soon gives way to the streets busy with fairs and taverns.

“Is King’s Landing always this crowded?”

“We are taking the main streets, with all the trading points and venues clustered here so these are usually filled with people,” Daemon eagerly explains but forgets to mention that he chose that road so she could get a better view of the city.

“Keeping an eye on things must be quite hard,” Lia debates.

“Hence why we have the City Watch,” Daemon grins, the feel of the golden cloak wrapped around his shoulders still fresh in his memory. “The Watch is enforcing the crown’s laws so our city is safe for all its people. I can show you around later on, should you wish for it.”

“If the city is safe, why would I need a guardian to take a walk?” when she looks at him, there’s a gleam of laughter in her eyes, and Daemon thinks that Rhaenyra would’ve liked her. He really hopes that she will.

“I am only offering my company,” he rebuts gaily.

“One would think the Prince Consort has better things to do,” the corner of her mouth curls slightly but the other one doesn’t follow, and the hint of a smile never grows into an actual one. Instead, her face is set on agitation when she suddenly says:

“I may help you pass the time,” with these words, her hand disappears under the cloak — and then Lia gives him a folded piece of parchment. “My mother wrote this for you.”

Daemon can feel that she doesn’t want to give it to him. It’s in the way her hand is gripping the letter, in the way she looks at it, her lips tight and jaw clenched. And yet she lets him take it.

“You know what it’s about?”

“I think I do,” her eyes linger on the letter. “And I would prefer if you kept it a secret,” Lia’s voice is quiet and sorrowful — and for a second she almost sounds hurt. But she averts her gaze and straightens her posture, and he can’t figure her out, once again.

“You didn’t read it?”

“The letter is sealed,” Lia looks at him with a weary judgment that’s normally expressed by men of his age towards someone like her and not vice versa. “If it wasn’t meant for me then I will not open it.”

“You could’ve burned it, you know. Keep whatever there is a secret,” he suggests, watching her reaction closely.

Lia keeps silent for a moment, and Daemon thinks he will rip the letter to shreds if only she asks, if it makes things better for her. She lightly shakes her head.

“It was my mother’s wish to give it to you, and I respect it,” Lia says firmly. “I can only hope that you will respect mine.”

“Sooner or later, everyone will find out,” he warns her, with a touch of bitterness in his voice.

“I am in no rush,” her reply is short and dry, and she turns to the window, signaling that the conversation is over.

Lia peers out, her eyes on the road again. Only now, in the broad daylight when he takes a closer look, Daemon realizes that it’s not the inquiring mind of a traveler that drives her — it looks more like she’s mentally mapping every location they pass. And he doesn’t know the destination she has in mind. The audience with the Queen goes better than Daemon hoped for — which means it’s not half as bad as it could’ve been.

Rhaenyra’s frustration due to the unannounced visit is quickly replaced by burning curiosity as she watches Lia come in. She sees the girl who doesn’t try to hide behind Daemon’s back, most of her body covered by a long cloak that still permits a straight and free stride while she boldly keeps eye contact with Rhaenyra. Lia only stops a few feet away from the throne — and she doesn’t curtsy. Instead, she politely takes a bow, not looking away for a second.

Someone else might’ve considered her behavior borderline insolent but the Queen impatiently stands up to walk closer to the girl, not offended but rather intrigued. Daemon wonders if Rhaenyra sees a younger version of herself in Lia — and his wife thinks of it, too. She is also more surprised by the lack of a title than by the name his daughter chose.

“Not a single person in my village had a title or a last name,” Lia points out, and she bears no shame. The look on her face also suggests she doesn’t expect the Queen to understand.

Rhaenyra proves her right when her gaze passes over the girl with the air of someone who knows better.

“It is fair to call you a lady, I believe, since you have dragon’s blood in your veins,” she announces as if the issue is settled already.

“As you wish, your grace,” Lia simply agrees — and it’s leniency as it is. But the Queen allows it.

She asks more questions than Daemon did, and the girl seems more affable with her replies yet somehow she gives all the same information, and not a word more. Still, he observes them with unconcealed satisfaction, pleased with the flow of their voices, with the calmness that sets in the hall, and he’s just a moment away from finding relief —

“How did your mother die?” Rhaenyra asks all of a sudden, and it makes Daemon flinch at his spot.

“Of an unfortunate injury she left untreated,” Lia begrudgingly answers, and he notices that the violet of her eyes goes a shade darker.

“Wasn’t your mother a healer?”

It’s not intended as a taunt, Rhaenyra just can’t resist wanting to know more, her eager attempts almost child-like, and Daemon instantly tenses up. They are both perplexed by the dry chuckle Lia lets out before saying:

“She cared too much about everyone else but too little about herself.”

There’s no hiding of vitriol seeping through her words but Lia doesn’t go into that topic further, her face showing nothing but a cold indifference again. Rhaenyra studies her reaction — luckily for Daemon, she does so not as the Queen but as someone who experienced the same loss once.

“I believe that hardships of life only shape your character,” she steps toward the girl, her voice pervaded with maternal-like care. “I presume that coming all that way to King’s Landing wasn’t easy but we are very glad that you did. It may take you some time to consider this place home — I assure you, the servants are ordered to satisfy your every whim”.

Rhaenyra means well, Daemons knows it, and yet for some reason, he wishes she phrased it better. Whatever Lia actually thinks of the Queen’s speech is left unsaid — his daughter only gives a polite half-smile in return:

“That is very generous of you, your grace. Frankly, I feel like I want to rest for a week, nothing else.”

“Do you really intend to?” Rhaenyra’s friendliness slightly falters. “We were planning on having a family gathering at dinner to formally introduce you to everyone.”

“Dare I ask you to postpone it just for a day? Surely it would be rude for me to fall asleep at the table,” Lia’s smile doesn’t reach the eyes, and a lull in their conversation makes Daemon uncomfortable.

“Well, I suppose just a day won’t make a difference. After such a long journey you do deserve to rest,” the Queen says after a pause. “I need my husband to return to his duties for now, meanwhile the maid will show you to your chambers,” she calls for a girl who’s been standing at the door, and the maid approaches them as quietly as a mouse.

Lia’s eyes flicker to Daemon, and he almost expects her to argue, but she says nothing aside from a hushed “thank you”, and then follows the maid out of the room. Rhaenyra watches them, tacit and pensive.

“I truly do not know what to think,” the Queen drawls when they leave. “But she is really quite something,” and her appraisal is followed by a chuckle.

Daemon nods, agreeing. Only he doesn’t find it amusing at all. Lia thinks the maid is just a couple of years younger than her but she doesn’t dare to clarify — even walking alongside the girl feels awkward and even more so wrong. Just yesterday Lia was picking up branches to make a fire in the woods, some dirt undoubtedly still left under her fingernails, and now, merely a day after, she is being led to her chambers by a maid. It feels as ridiculous as it is nauseating, and it only gets worse when she sees the room — the size of the house she’s grown in and with way more furniture than she’s ever seen put in one place.

Lia stands at the doorway, still and confounded, when the maid humbly says:

“If you are in need of anything, you can — ”

“No,” Lia cuts her off so sharply, it startles the girl.

Lia turns to her with an apologetic look:

“What is your name?”

“Annora,” she answers meekly, hiding her eyes to the floor.

“Annora, I can guarantee you I need nothing else. You are free to leave for the rest of the day,” Lia tries to sound both persuasive and kind — and not disgusted with her own pretense.

The girl gives her a confused look but seems too scared to object so she takes leave with no questions asked. Lia stays at the door and listens to her retreating footsteps, disregarding the pompously furnished room. After the sounds in the hall die down, she waits for another couple of minutes — and then slips out without looking back. Lia roams around and learns every exit and searches through every room she can open. She follows no rules except one — shall things go south, she must know how to get out, fast and without being seen. So she memorizes the turns, the pattern of corridors and stairs while trying to avoid encounters with people endlessly pacing through the castle. A few times she has to take a step back, hide in the shadows and in between columns while maids and guards and noble women with too many underskirts run by. Lia isn’t used to that — the amount of people, the fuss and the noise, but does her best to ignore it all, taking time to explore the huge building, with doors and corners and the awaiting unknown.

When she finally gets to the backyard, it feels like only a couple of hours have passed but Lia is surprised to see that the sun is beginning to set. The sky gradually darkens, dabbed with yellow and maroon, showing the approach of the evening. Only once she steps outside, she realizes how much she needed a breath of fresh air, how there’s a lack of it in the musty, sweltering castle. She is relieved to see that the yard is way less crowded, with only a few servants and a couple of knights at the gates. Her eyes skim over the open space when she hears the metal screeching — distinct and all too familiar to her: turning around, Lia predictably sees two men sparring, their swords being the source of the sound. Her attention is quickly drawn to one of them — lean, tall, and fending off his opponent with ease, his long silver hair flowing with each move. His hits seem as clear-cut as the features of his face — although she didn’t see him that well the first time, she recognizes him immediately. Aemond is the very embodiment of imperturbability, each stroke of his sword deliberate and sharp, and Ser Criston can’t let his guard down for one second. It’s a sequence he’s learned well enough over the years: there’s no rush in the prince’s attacks, there’s exhausting suspense. Aemond watches him, throws in a few teasing strikes, circling leisurely but maniacally tiring his opponent out. Only when you least expect it, he will deliver a series of blows, strong enough to knock an adult down, just enough to satisfy his ego.

And yet, Ser Criston senses that something is off. The prince is missing his usual fervor, his competitive energy, not pressing the fight but rather tolerating it, which Criston considers odd.

“Your focus seems to be elsewhere, my prince. I wonder what’s on your mind,” the knight inquires.

Aemond shoots him a cold glance and easily blocks his hit, then spins and abruptly strikes forward, his sword stopping at Criston’s neck.

“Wondering does you no good, Ser Criston,” Aemond remarks with a small grin, retreating.

“Fair enough,” he smiles in return. “I suggest we take a break.”

They had to start later than usual, and by now all the spectators dispersed and the yard has long been empty, quiet, softly illuminated by sunset. One of the guards goes to light the torches on the walls, and Aemond absentmindedly watches as the flames grow, taking a few gulps of water. Despite Ser Criston being right in his observations, training still had a calming effect on the prince, and the slight soreness of the muscles was somewhat enjoyable. It’s a way to escape reality for him, his mind concentrated on the momentum of movements, on the way his body adapts to the tempo and responds to the threat. He concludes he can go for another round, still invigorated, somewhat restive, always at the ready.

But when Aemond turns around, his eye is drawn to a cloaked figure, and all the clarity and concentration dissolve upon realizing who he’s looking at. He recognizes her immediately.

Christon follows Aemond’s gaze, spotting the girl, too, and then squints a little:

“Is that — ”

“I believe so,” the prince replies tersely.

They were on the way to the training yard when they saw Alicent leaving Helaena’s chambers, looking surprisingly grim. Caught in the moment, she had to reveal the cause of her sour mood — or maybe Alicent was actually looking for a reason to finally tell someone of it. She wore a grimace of annoyance that turned into resentment as she recounted what happened at the small council’s meeting. Her explanation left much to be desired but Criston listened attentively, seemingly intrigued. Both he and Alicent missed the stunned expression that was evident on Aemond’s face for barely a moment — somehow he instantly guessed who was the rider of the white dragon. And then regret mixed with agitation chained his heart.

It has long been known that his mother and Daemon have a bone to pick with each other, but Aemond is never hasty with his judgment. His uncle’s daughter is a girl he knows nothing about, so the prince tries to give her the benefit of the doubt instead of rushing to conclusions, or labeling, or worse. And yet Aemond keeps going back to that image of her — a splash of darkness roaming in the skies, audacious in her freedom, coming into their lives at the speed of a dragon she managed to claim even though she wasn’t supposed to have one in the first place. He even let himself wonder how their first meeting would go, thinking of an uncomfortable family gathering with forced smiles and awkward conversations.

But suddenly she’s here — her black cloak fluttering like an unknown flag, no sign of a smile on her face, no lack of confidence. And it’s also somewhat fitting that she’s defying the expectations already, his included.

She keeps her distance and pays them no mind as her eyes are set on the table with practice swords, their blades reflecting glimmers of orange and red that the sky is painted with. Criston notices Aemond’s wistful stare and clears his throat, then carefully approaches the girl.

“It’s not often I find ladies to take interest in swords,” he remarks politely.

“I couldn’t deny myself the pleasure of admiring the craftsmanship,” she answers, earning a pleased hum from the knight.

“Well, these two swords were cast only a week ago,” Criston enthusiastically comes closer.

Sensing it, she glances up at him, out of interest or as a precaution, and Aemond sees a white strand of hair sticking out, a rebellious sign of her Targaryen roots confirmed by the color of her eyes. He discreetly examines her, takes in every subtle detail he can notice as if her appearance can give him a clue for what’s underneath. But her face is a mask of reticence.

“This looks like Valyrian steel,” she infers, and Criston nods, pleasantly surprised by her guess.

“You have seen it before?”

“I have definitely heard of it,” she gives an oblique answer. “And it is truly beautiful up close. How long does it take to make one?” her voice suggests a keen interest, her demeanor so open and simple it’s only natural that Criston is driven to talk to her.

Aemond’s never been good at striking up conversations, avoiding them on the pretext of not liking any idle talk. And yet now his taciturnity weighs on him — and he doesn’t know if he’s troubled by the feeling of being excluded again or the blind urge to be the one she’s talking to.

Criston’s chattering comes with no reprehensibility, and she welcomes the nuanced explanation, listening attentively.

“You are quite passionate about the subject,” she concludes.

“It’s only fair for the knight to know more of the weapon he uses,” he explains, modest as ever. “Although, I believe we haven’t been properly introduced — I am Ser Criston Cole, the Master of swords. You’ve walked in on me and Prince Aemond training.”

She doesn’t react to the second part of his answer, not acknowledging Aemond’s presence, and he feels like a ghost, an unnoticed shadow, and the neglect unnerves him. Ser Criston is more worried about respecting social norms:

“And how should I address you?”

“Just Lia will do,” she bestows him with a smile so fleeting, he might’ve as well imagined it.

“Lady Lia, then,” he corrects, and her face is briefly shadowed by disdain.

“There’s no value in adding that,” Lia scrunches her nose.

Aemond comes up to them then, not waiting for any invitations and intending to be reckoned with, his brows draw together at her comment.

“Getting a title is something people usually pride upon rather than eschew,” he points out in a studiously courteous manner.

“Sounds like you care about it more than I do,” Lia barely spares him a glance, her head tilted as she follows the gilded pattern of the sword with her finger.

She doesn’t mean to mock him, her tone plain and stance relaxed, but the relative ease with which she brushes off his comment wounds all the same. Aemond is so used to people being intimidated by his mere presence that the lack of reaction does come off as an offense — or maybe he’s too eager to take it as one.

Ser Criston is oblivious to Aemond’s nerves slowly cracking, too absorbed in the conversation with Lia.

“To fully appreciate the craftsmanship, you should see it in action,” he carelessly continues. “Do you know how to handle a sword? I can show you.”

“It is really kind of you to offer but I’ve wielded a sword before,” her emotionless response implies she’s not affronted yet Criston notices a smile in the corner of her lips again. He wonders if it’s a sign of amiability or a contained jeer.

“I am sure you haven’t held — ”

“You can take one,” Aemond suddenly suggests, words escaping his mouth before he can think them over.

Ser Criston stops midsentence, darting an inquiring glance at him but the prince ignores it, his eye boring into Lia’s back.

“If you spar with me,” he adds — and sees that her finger stops at the edge of the blade, signaling that now he’s got her attention.

“You already have an opponent to entertain you,” Lia remarks, straightening her back.

“I am not looking for entertainment,” Aemond adamantly retorts.

He is looking for a fight, he wants to say — but when Lia finally glances at the prince, he catches an unspoken sign of understanding.

“If you win, the sword is yours,” Aemond continues, pressing for her to answer. His impatience simmers, risking to bring his temper to a boil.

There is no logical explanation for his persistence — Lia shows no interest and takes no offense, absolutely nothing suggests that she wants to fight, and she merely looked at him once since she came. Maybe that last part is the one he’s got a problem with.

Criston waits for the girl to refuse — and to do so sheepishly, in a ladylike manner. Instead, she fully turns to the prince.

“Seems like you’ve been training for quite some time, aren’t you tired?” Lia eyes him from head to toe. “I’d like us to have a fair bout,” she states impassively.

Aemond stifles a laugh, reeking of overconfidence, his reaction all too familiar to the knight but usually off-putting to the others — just this attitude alone led to more fights than Criston can count, even though the prince had no trouble winning all of them. The knight expects Lia to get annoyed, too, to lash back or quarrel — but she is a blank canvas void of any color.

“I won’t cut you, worry not. At least I will try my best,” Aemond’s reply is hardly a promise with his voice being so evidently teasing. Still, he has some decency to abide by the rules, so he asks in return: “Do you need a warm-up?”

She feels her legs humming from the number of stairs and turns she’s taken throughout the day, and the anticipation only gets the blood rushing, heating her body — but he knows nothing of it.

“I’ll pass,” she declines, and just for a moment, her gaze turns sneery, and Aemond guesses that she’s also not the one to back down. That bare glimmer of her character is enough to strike a chord in him.

Criston looks between them, finally grasping how the dynamic escalated, the air thick with tension as Aemond and Lia stare each other down without a hint of doubt on their faces.

“You are fortunate to spar with a very skilled swordsman,” the knight mentions delicately, hoping that his implication might cause Lia to reconsider.

“If you say so,” is her only reply — and there isn’t a shred of uncertainty.

Before going to pick a sword, Lia looks around. Aemond thinks she wants to make sure no one is watching them, and this time, he actually wishes there was a crowd to make a spectacle in front of. But as her eyes are roving through the yard, Criston guesses that she’s sizing up the space, memorizing every detail, — and it’s definitely not a sign of her lacking the experience. He has never trained a woman but someone clearly took their chance with Lia, and the knight gets curious to know if her training paid off.

She goes to the further end of the table where the shortswords are lined up, and Aemond silently sneers: he’s proficient in using longswords, maneuvering heavy blades with ease, and going for the lighter version will pose no challenge for him. Lia doesn’t think for too long, choosing the one with a smaller hilt, plated with silver and set with emeralds. She weights it, making sure it sits comfortably in her hand, and Criston notes that her thumb lays on the flat of the blade which gives her more ability to hold on to the sword. She twirls it a couple of times, her movements smooth and polished.

The knight turns to Aemond — and he is already looking at Lia.

“You do know how to hold it. Do you know how to use it?” the prince taunts.

“Do you?” she throws him an assessing gaze.

“We are about to find out,” Aemond’s lips twitch into a smirk. 🎵

Lia twists the blade backward, and it stops right behind her shoulder, barely an inch away. She holds it there as she approaches the prince, staying at a safe distance. The forged metal is tinted with the blooming sundown — it’s bright, sinister scarlet, and Criston gets a sinking feeling of worry, the idea of them sparring not so tempting anymore. But he hesitates for just a second too long — and then it’s too late to meddle.

Aemond strikes first, not harshly but rather testing — Lia swiftly moves out of his way, without even raising her sword, and his blade almost grazes her cloak, but the material slips away in the air, following its owner. The prince takes a step back, circling her as she stands, barely moving but not letting him out of sight, not shying away from him. His gaze hunts her like prey but she’s hawk-eyed, and she is yet to show her claws.

A surprised hum escapes Criston’s mouth, and he directs his focus to Lia. She’s got good awareness of space, her stepping is correct and aligned with her rare hits, her pacing akin to a measured cadence. Using the sword in one hand gives her a longer reach — but she hardly ever initiates attacks. Instead of stopping Aemond or trying to engage, Lia easily dodges, and that behavior only serves to embolden the prince’s fervor. It bothers Criston, and he furrows his brows, watching the girl closely, discerning how aloof and impassive she seems in comparison to Aemond — he’s smoldering, she’s stone-cold, and her movements are almost... lazy.

That’s when Criston realizes: she’s the one wearing the prince out, not the other way around.

It only takes Aemond a minute to draw the same conclusion, and he feels a flash of irritation in his chest. He might’ve underestimated Lia but he isn’t used to being toyed with, and even though her face is still without expression, now her style of fighting almost seems taunting. The prince usually took pride in his self-control yet he was slowly losing it — and he hates to lose, he never does.

Aemond quickly weighs his options, chancing a glance at the yard, and a distant object catches his attention. It’s a middle-sized barrel, but it’s enough to slow her movements, he thinks, and once she’s cornered the prince might consider mercy. He intensifies his hits, pressuring her to move further away, right into his trap, to his proclamation of victory. Aemond’s chest all but puffs, his hubris blossoming — but it turns out to be disastrously premature.

Lia looks over her shoulder — and then jumps over the barrel like it wasn’t ever there, barely an obstacle, or at least not for her. She gives him a look that makes him feel stupid — and Aemond is anything but. Even from a distance, Criston can feel the anger that sparkles in the prince, his shoulders tensing up and his grip on the sword tightening. He is scary when he’s angry — when he allows himself to be, when the build-up emotions emerge from the darkness of his stiff restrain — Aemond doesn’t hold back then, and he is scarily dangerous, dreadful, deadly.

But anger is only fuel and, shall you spill too much of it, the fire will be too hard to control — and the lack of control can be lethal when someone aims a blade at your heart. Yet it seems that what Aemond may lack, she’s got plenty of, and Criston finds himself wondering if that unemotional canvas of hers is actually a facade that covers something else.

They are separated by the barrel but Lia has no intention of hiding behind it — as she goes back around, she gets rid of another restriction, hastily tossing the cloak away, and Aemond finds himself involuntarily staring at her. Her clothes are also dark — the upper garment is long-sleeved and waisted, the material of her trousers dense and fitted tightly around her thighs. It differs from everything he’s seen on the ladies of the court, and she wears it like a second skin that stretches and covers every curve of her body. As Aemond’s eye lingers, he lets his guard down, almost missing the moment when she hits, fast and without warning — the prince blocks it at the very last second, their swords locking at foot level, and her blade stops right at his knee.

Aemond’s face expresses the utmost bewilderment. She didn’t cut him — but the intent was there.

The prince inhales sharply. He can forgive her still, he can dismiss her insolence and blame it on her lack of manners, on her luck, on any ludicrous reason that he may come up with in the next thirty seconds which he definitely needs to calm himself down. He is trying with his every breath, with his every muscle to regain control and resolve the situation peacefully.

But Lia isn’t looking for peace when she says — brazenly, her eyes fixed on him:

“Doesn’t seem like you live up to the praise you’ve been given.”

His temper explodes in a second. Aemond lunges at her, an annoyed grunt bubbling in his throat, and he strikes, merciless and quick, adrenalin roaring in his blood. She bends backward, his sword gliding just above her, and then she ducks under his arm and moves away. He barely has time to turn to her when she winds in from the other side, their swords clanging — and Criston regains his senses at the loud sound.

The knight feels his heart racing, the feeling of worry now bruising him as he can’t take his eyes off the two opponents.

Aemond’s blind spot is clearly on his left, and yet Lia never aims there, not taking advantage of his weakness, and Criston can’t help but respect her for that. However, she notes him having a dominant right hand, most of his blows targeted to cover the opposite side, leaving him open to attacks from the right. The moment she realizes where to strike, her blows become harsher and more vigorous, as her sword cuts through the air with a flick of her wrist. She’s got speed and agility, she’s unwavering, she’s a hunter too.

Aemond does not give in, furious and unflinching, and yet, even with the most ferocious attempts he misses her — merely by an inch — but misses nonetheless. Lia dodges every attack, each of her blocks calculated and her gaze alert, her desire not to yield only matching his. It’s refreshing, it keeps Aemond’s blood pumping, the anger-driven energy coursing through him. It also hurts his ego quite a bit.

There’s a bizarre harmony in the way they carry themselves, Criston notices, and their anger looks about the same — fiery and scalding. And it’s only a matter of time before anyone gets burned.

Aemond runs out of patience first.

Lia bats his sword aside once more and pulls back, falling into his blind spot, and Aemond needs to spin around to keep her in sight. But his mind is clouded with fury that pushes him to take the risk before he can think it through — instead of repeating the well-known movement, he takes a swing at her, his aim nothing but instinctive. He’s never followed blind instinct so literally — he’s also never done anything so horribly, dangerously stupid.

Criston’s heart plummets like a pebble through a hole as he watches Lia’s blade missing Aemond by a hair — and it truly is a miracle if he’s ever seen one. But then the prince’s sword lands right next to her shoulder, and they both instantly halt movement, their breathing heavy and eyes locked.

There is dead silence around them, the sun is long gone, the sounds vanished, all the guards witnessing are petrified.

It takes all of Aemond’s willpower not to press the blade further into the material of her clothes to cut it. He doesn’t want to hurt her, but he wants to leave a mark. A sign that he did win, a reminder of his victory just for her to keep.

“I shall teach you a lesson on how to keep your attitude in check when you’re talking to a prince,” his words are laced with frustration yet he smirks, bathing in the satisfaction that winning always brings him.

“Only when you learn to not get ahead of yourself,” she whispers — and with that, he suddenly feels a metal blade poking at his ribs. Taken aback, Aemond looks down and, surely, she’s holding a small dagger to his side with her free hand. His delight is as short-lived as ripples on a pond.

“Now, this is not fair,” he mutters, not looking so smug anymore.

“Fairness be damned when someone’s threatening my life,” she glances up at him, their faces so close they can feel each other’s breath. She smells of ashes and the crisp freshness of the forest, and her expression doesn’t change but her eyes darken, just like the sea does before the storm, which makes him feel uneasy.

And yet, Aemond refuses to lower his sword.

“Will you be as fierce without an arm?” he hisses.

“I can survive without one. But I’ll cut into your heart first,” her voice is terribly calm, and he knows she’s not bluffing.

“That is enough!” Criston is on the verge of yelling. “No one will cut anything!”

He tries to squeeze in between them but to no avail — Aemond doesn’t budge nor does Lia. Criston has never been the one in charge of the kids yet right now he wishes he had more experience with dealing with tantrums — because that’s exactly what it is, he thinks. Except the two participants have long outgrown the age appropriate for such behavior, and both are, unfortunately, armed.

He takes a deep breath and throws a hand in between them, more firmly this time.

“You know as well as I do that this has to end,” the knight gives them a stern look, keeping his voice low and impassive, “and with both of you intact.”

Lia’s eyes dart to Criston, and he takes it as a sign of her being the one he can reason with.

“I do not think using a dagger was acceptable but to be fair, we never established any rules. And you are a good fighter,” he puts emphasis specifically for Aemond, not letting the prince interrupt. “So I propose we agree on a draw, and you will still get your sword.”

She ponders for barely a minute before looking at Aemond again:

“I believe said agreement requires mutual consent.”

Criston maneuvers his palm next to Lia’s shoulder and puts his other hand close to where she’s holding the dagger. He glances anxiously at Aemond, and the prince scowls, irritated, not in the habit of backing down. He holds her gaze for a couple of seconds — and then they lower the weapons, the movement almost synchronized except Lia does so with grace while Aemond just does everyone a favor.

Crison gently stops the girl, his hand intercepting the one she’s holding the sword in.

“I will sharpen it myself and have it back in the morning,” he promises — and she gives it up with no objection.

Aemond seethes at her compliance he hasn’t been graced with, clinging to his sword while his pride whines in offense. He watches Lia putting the cloak back on, twirling the dagger in one hand, so unbothered and composed as if he left no impression on her while she all but carved her way into his head. While she has her back to him, he thoughtlessly makes a move in her direction, and Criston’s eyes widen, a word of warning rooting in his throat — but he doesn’t get a chance to voice it.

Lia stops and turns to Aemond in one swift motion, her gaze heavy and cold — and immediately on him again. For the second time she takes him by surprise, and the prince freezes at the spot. She looks directly at him and, without breaking eye contact, slowly shakes her head no. She doesn’t utter a single word but the coldness of her gaze speaks for itself. Her eyes are saying if you dare to pick the sword, I will kill you. I will bury my dagger in between your ribs, and my face will be the last thing you see.

She’s standing in front of him — a woman wrapped in the darkest shades of black, and she radiates the most alarming threat he’s ever seen. She gives him the same feeling he gets every time he touches the blade with his bare fingers, every time he flies with Vhagar up in the sky, rising above the clouds until his lungs start burning and the air is too cold to breathe in. It’s the feeling of imminent threat, of him balancing right at the edge of a foul. It’s challenging as much as it is fascinating. And Aemond likes a good challenge.

He takes his hand off of the hilt, his crooked grin a telltale sign of his refusal to wave a white flag just yet. Criston notices the movement and breathes out, looking puzzled but relieved. Not a single word is shared, and Lia doesn’t give them another glance before leaving, the prince and the knight gazing after her.

“I want to ask what just happened but I am not sure you will give me an honest answer,” Criston drawls.

Aemond keeps silent, his eye following Lia’s cloak, and the desire to go after her feels like an itch, like a pull he can’t explain.

“I don’t think it will be wise to tell my mother,” the prince says all of a sudden.

Confusion is evident on Criston’s face, brighter than the light of the torches it’s illumed with.

“She would’ve wanted to know of it,” Criston tiredly attempts to understand him. “I am your family’s sworn protector and it’s my responsibility to — ”

“I am asking you as a friend,” Aemond cuts in, his abrupt request leaving the knight stunned. The prince doesn’t move an inch nor does he look at Criston, his sharp profile not letting any emotions slip through. And yet, these words are the biggest sign of trust Aemond has ever shown the knight in years.

Criston bites down a smile:

“Understood, my prince.” Lia navigates through the corridors, taking directions from memory — she goes past her chambers, past the bed made for her, to the other end of the castle. She sneaks to the gates and lures the guards out by throwing a rock at the fence, trying not to laugh at the fact that it takes two grown men to go check for the source of the noise. The girl escapes into the darkness of the night, into the vibrant city that’s still awake, filled with noises and people scurrying about.

She blends into the crowd, feeling her pulse finally slowing down as she stems the fire within her, and it meekly fizzles. Rowdy alleys and dark corners seem more welcoming to her than the entirety of the Red Keep, and Lia is almost tempted to get lost and forget her way back — but she can’t allow herself to. So she only quickens her steps and pulls the hood lower, trying to race her own exhaustion that unavoidably catches up to her.

Halfway to the Dragonpit, Lia feels a gaze on her but the place is too crowded for someone to stand out — and it’s clearly an advantage not just for her. She peers into a bunch of unknown faces clumped up into a moving mass, a vociferous stream of voices. She sees a couple of drunk men staring, red-faced yet not threatening enough, same for a few beggars and street dancers that reach for her but can’t keep up. The only one who does stick out is a little girl barely eight or nine years of age winding after her — her face sly, her clothes too neat for her to live on the streets. Lia takes note of the kid but doesn’t let it show and only picks up the pace, her dagger hidden under the cloak saving her from the hassle of worrying.

The cavernous building atop the hill looks even bigger at night, grand and daunting, and the stern faces of the guards don’t soften the impression given but they let Lia in with no questions asked, most likely contrite about their hostile greeting earlier in the morning. She doesn’t gloat and only enters with a nod, slipping into the tunnels shrouded in stillness, her path accompanied by the rare crackling of the torches. When she walks into the cave, Olwen looks barely awake, blinking a few times in her direction, and Lia finally lets her body relax in the coolness of the twilight.

Weariness flows through her body like a stream of water, stripping her of the feigned composure and fake indifference. Her face falls and her fists open, and the build-up tension springs free with each inhale — deep, slow, blissful. As she’s standing there, in the dark cave only lit by the glow of her dragon’s eyes, she quietly reminds herself:

“Raven woods. Yellow and brown. Calls himself Knuckles.”

Olwen glances up at her and lets out a roar, low and choppy, and it sounds almost like a purr. The dragon moves his head closer to Lia, and she sits on the ground, gently touching the rough skin of his snout. She knows he can feel it — her anger sparkling at the surface, ready to ignite at any second. But he also feels the pain that’s been wailing deep inside, vile and heavy on her heart. She thinks it’s unfair to him — this connection that they share, the unexplainable bond, and she almost wants to apologize. She knows he won’t understand.

Lia leans back on the dragon, using her cloak as a blanket and letting the exhaustion wash over her. Her eyelids flutter shut and she whispers again:

“Raven woods. Yellow and brown. Goes by Knuckles. Raven woods. Yellow and brown...”

This reminder is not a lullaby but a never healing scar branded onto her skin, tearing her life in half, leaving nothing but ruins, bodies, death. But when Lia finally drifts off, she is greeted with no dreams, and it feels like a blessing, that oblivion of hers. Because most nights, when she closes her eyes, she sees a dark forest burning in flames, filled with endless screams. Back at the castle, the one-eyed prince lies wide awake, his restless mind not letting him sleep as he keeps replaying the events of the evening in his head. Aemond’s body has gotten tired but his nerves are strained, the image of Lia fresh in his memory — the way she looked at him, daring and unashamed, the way she moved — dexterous, fast, never giving up. A recalcitrant opponent, a resistant fighter, a bastard with a wild dragon.

Or maybe she’s a dragon herself.

He wonders if he can tame her.

• when she turns to him and shakes her head — that was inspired by the scene from “Hawkeye”. I think Yelena nailed that “I can kill you with my bare hands” look, and her character overall is very inspirational to me. • Olwen is supposed to be even whiter but I did my best:

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English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

tagging everyone who asked: @greenowlfactif, @iiamthehybrid, @melsunshine, @rosegardenpatsu

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aloneatpeace · 7 months

Text

Fall Of Empire

NEW BEGINNING '5'

Summary :𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓪 𝓯𝓾𝓷𝓷𝔂 𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓮𝓸𝓹𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 . 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷 . 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓭𝓮𝓷𝔂 𝓸𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼.

Disclaimer - this is pure fan fiction it's not real. I mean no disrespect to any of the members.The stroy is fictional it's doesn't have anything to do with the real life members of bts.

You, jimin and jungkook sit by the log needing a time from all the people and to let jungkook rest after eating almost everything that he seen as you three tried to find a quite place.

Jimin created a small fire to keep you all warm the night was clamming the loudness seems to be dying down people must be retreating to get a good night sleep, looking up the sky is clear the moon shine with clouds around stars blinking up like white pearls.

“So how is the life like in the castle?” jimin eyes find you as you asking him. He thought about telling the truth about the life at inside the walls. Your eyes filled with hope and curiosity.

He knows that you’re not the only one, there is other innocent women also eager to know and experience life outside their home, it cruel and devesting that once you enter the castle everything change.

Maybe he can tell you the truth and save at least one from the vile faith but Ameon had seen you, and now you denied Ameon won’t hesitate to use his power and he will be punished as well his friend as outsiders does not know what take place inside the castle.

He chuckles but it lacks humor eyes locked with yours “different as you can tell. It different for knights, maids you know. wake up early do your duty, serve the royal family, protect the royal family. Basically, everyone is servants or slaves for the royal family” as he said the venom in his voice starts to be dominant and Jungkook seems to pick up that he nudges jimin to tone it down

You frown “you seem to dislike living in the castle”

He hums the “dislike is word to put it mildly” he said absent mindedly seeing the deepened frown your face he sighs “it just my opinion. because I do not like to be ordered around, nothing serious”

Jungkook nod “yeah. Jimin here does not like to ordered but he has to, taking that he is a knight”

You nod in understanding wrapping your hands on yourself looking away and silence fall between you three.

Jungkook sees the that you’re lost in thought maybe you were having second thoughts he shoots a look at jimin who shrugs in response.

“Can I ask you something?” Jungkook, ask you making you glance at him “why are living at woods alone?” he asks when you nod at him jimin is also wanted to know the reason behind.

“Yeah, it is dangerous to leave alone in the woods you know. what if any wide animals attack you”

You let small smile play your lips “Who said I was alone”

Jungkook eyes widen comically large his hair framed his face “you were not alone?” he leans towards you making you lean back towards jimin. “Are you a witch? Do you have the dead to company you?”

You let out amused laugh making your whole-body shake, jimin place his hand on your side preventing you from falling sideway. Jimin smile down at you seeing your eyes shine with happiness totally different from how was your eyes moments ago. A grin take place on Jungkook face as he looks down at you smiling relaxed in his friend arms.

You push gently on Jungkook chest making him lean back “No” you look at him in disbelief as he pouts plum lips full on display with a playful devastated look on his face “should you not be refiled that I am not witch”

He shrugs “I think being a witch is more fun”

Jimin nod squeezing your sides making you look at him a smirk on his lips “and you would make a beautiful witch”

You lightly smack on his chest sitting straight making his hands fall of your waist shaking your heads at them “you two are something else”

“I will take that as compliment” jimin said cockily

Jungkook nod eagerly “I as well”

Taking a breath, you smile at them softly “I was not alone, I had my father”

Jungkook and jimin eyes held sympathy but you did not look at them as you said.

“What happened to him?” jimin ask softly

“He was a hunter He is the best man I know He taught me everything he knows as time goes, He was sick, old age weakened his body which is surprising because he was big man you know” you said with smile flexing your hands as if to impersonate him making them smile lightly “I remember coming to town with him and everyone was afraid of him because how big he was hoseok was sacred to which is funny because he is big softy. Two winters ago, he was gone so”

Jungkook observe you “you are not sad anymore” its was statement

You nod “no I’m not. I was but I learned this is life you can not hold on to your loved ones when the times comes you have let them go you will learn to live with the pain it will be always there but it will get better you just had to hold on to your hope. It is life you know. I was sacred to live without my father, but I knew I have to, besides I had hoseok and I also had my father right here” you point at your chest finally looking at them to see their eyes on you, watching you. “And now I have you both, haven’t?”

“yes” Jungkook and jimin said firmly and hastily they watch you smile at them making them mirror yours with a satisficed hum you start to stand up.

Jimin and Jungkook hastily stood on their feet stretching hands for you to hold on, taking their hands on your hands you stand up and wipe the dust off your dress “come on we have to look for hoseok and yoongi”

The three you search for the two men and found them knocked out inside the liquor store, yoongi curled up on top the table while hoseok on the floor clinging a bottle to his chest. You kneel beside him gently shaking on his shoulder to wake him at least he could sleep on his home rather than the cold floor.

Jungkook shook his head at them walking towards you “do not bother seems like they won’t be waking up any soon”

You look up at him “we can’t leave him alone and shouldn’t yoongi need a better place to sleep?’

“You will be surprised how he can anywhere as he pleases.” Jimin said as he takes the blanket he found around the shop and drape it on yoongi’s figure. “You worry about yourself. I will make sure hoseok reach his home” he nudges the said male with his foot.

Hoseok stair in his sleep purring a small mine under his breath clenching the bottle to his chest a looped grin on his face.

Jungkook nod “huh, you need to go home it I am sure the day had you exhausted you now”

“Oh, I know my way back” you said jungkook smile at you lightly.

“I know but its night let me take you home. It for my peace of mind” he adds when he sees you pinched eyebrows. He opens his palm for you take his hold taking his hand you let him pull you up standing up. You turn to jimin and sleeping yoongi and hoseok.

Jimin stare at you before walking up to you whispering your name “rest well and prepare yourself for your departure we will come to get you in the morning”

“Have good night. Jimin” you send him a smile

Jimin grins “it is Sir jimin”

“Huh. forgive me sir jimin” you give him a courtesy and beside you jungkook has a soft grin as he watches the exchange.

Jimin takes your hand and press a kiss while holding your gaze with a smirk on his face eyes having the mischievous glint in them.

Jungkook narrow his eyes at jimin sighing at the male “knocking it out. We are leaving” he tugs your other hand pulling away from jimin you finally depart with jungkook with a small to wave your new friend who now also eagerly wave around as if your miles away from him.

Jimin turns to hoseok who sleeping still clenching the bottle to his chest for a minute he is worried if he continues to squeezed the bottle it might break.

He sighs “this is not what I sighed up for” he making his way towards him grabbing hoseok by his collar. He pulls the male up and throwing over his shoulder and walk out the shop towards hoseok home.

As he walks with hoseok on his back he sees hoseok father on the front of the house possibly waiting for his son to reach home.

Hoseok’s father hastily stood up “is he alright? What happened?”

“There is nothing to worry about, he just drank too much” jimin said offering a smile to ease the father “if you tell me where to lay him…...it would be great” jimin adds shifting the weight of the male.

Hoseok’s father nod and hurriedly walk inside the and leads him to hoseok room, jimin place the male on his bed.

Jimin pop his neck few times letting his body relax.

“Thank you for helping him, sir. If you need a place to stay allow me and my family to help you” hoseok’s father said

Jimin shake his head “it is alright, my fellow knight is allowed blacked out at hoseok shop we are hoping you could let us stay for the night”

“Anything you want. Wait for moment” he said and walk towards a shelf and take out couple of blankest and pillow “here take this, it the least we can do to repay your kindness. It is going to be really freezing in the morning”

Jimin take the pillow and blanket with a final farewell he retreats to the shop as he does a figure catches his eyes halting in his steps, he sees Aemon standing Infront of the empty shed of one house a small lamp in his hands, he watches a young women stand in there nervously with smile on her face.

Aemon starts kiss the girl, but she whispers something almost like protest jimin starts to make his way when Ameon back away and close the door as he does jimin sees the woman’s pleased look on her face. Soon moan starts coming out the closed door making jimin twist in disgust, he clenches the pillow tightly and walk away.

You and jungkook walk into the wood the moonlight shine brighter that you decided that you both do not need lamb in his word why you need a lamb when you have a brave knight with you.

“So did you enjoy your time?” he asks as he walk beside you his hands on his sides freely ready to lend if you need to hold on.

“It was amazing and I really love this dress” you exclaim touching the dress, it is so soft and beautiful the color is so vibrant you like it so much that you might wear it very day but that would wear out the pretty dress.

A grin tug on his lips as he watches you touch the dress looking at this as if it is most beautiful thing “it is more beautiful when a pretty maiden like you wear it” he said out loud making you both you stop. Jungkook eyes widen when did he become bold?

“Thank you” you said politely eyes avoiding the handsome knight Infront of you “did you enjoy your time at the festival?”

Jungkook look down “yeah. It was fun we rarely get to be indulged in festival or any celebrations.” He pauses when he doesn’t feel your presence waling with him.

Turning he sees you look away towards the woods where tall bushes are, you look at him with a grin on your face “do you want to see something more fun something more beautiful?”

Jungkook give you suspicious glance walking towards you the moonlight shined down at the both you, his eyes behold yours that light up as you peer at him, your hair strands flowing in the soft winds blooming face with a dazzling smile on your lips.

A smile graces his delicate yet sharp face, you take his hands in yours and walk into the bush that come up till your knee. As you both walk the bushes move making the fireflies fly up, jungkook mouth agape as he taken the view, he watches you slowly run your hands on the bush and more fireflies come up he giggles when some comes besides him. He gleefully run towards you making the fireflies around him fly high. You laugh heartly watching him jump around touching the bushes making the fireflies move from his side towards you.

“Is it truly beautiful” you said making him turn towards you standing in the middle of the filed with fireflies, making you look surreal, almost like a forbidden fruit, so far away yet so close.

“exquisite”

Jungkook and you reach your home fairly quick as he insists that the cold was snipping his skin. The walk to home was silent but it was good you both doesn’t find need to fill it with unnecessary small conversation. Jungkook waited until he was sure you had closed your door and comfortably in your bed before he returned the town even though a part of him wanted to stay with you, guard you but he knows that you wouldn’t agree to that not that you are not capable of taking care of you but it was for sake of his peace of mind.

The man on the desk read the letter one more time, a dagger lies on the table beside a stack of books and documents scattered around. His large hands gripping the paper with a tight grip that it almost tore apart. He exhales his hair falling on his forehead, he run his hands through his luscious hair. Standing up the he walks towards the fire place and throw away the letter to the fire, the sound of the fire crackling seems to so loud filling the dark room.

He walks towards his window the wind sooth his bare skin, placing his hand on the window hand gripping the window with strong grip the moon light illuminates his room and his large frame, broad shoulders and dark hair. As his shoulder blades shifts as he stands straight, looking out into the darkness searching for the light.

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latibvles · 3 months

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SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic // to be in it with you.

i’ll find a million ways to say it before i say that i’m in—

masterlist | gallery | taglist

TAGLIST: @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs ,@monalisastwin , @mads-weasley , @eugene-emt-roe

SUMMARY: Reaching the Eagles’ Nest makes the day special in more ways than one.

WARNINGS: None!

Picturesque mountains, sun warming her skin, her eyes crinkle at the corners on a squint as she peers at it for a moment. She didn’t think she’d have much time for sightseeing in a war, but here she is — a working draft of a letter balanced precariously on her thigh as she writes out a thank you for the well wishes from her mother, men and women alike all idling on this road etched into the mountainside. Beside her, Jane is also leaned up against the jeep, gray eyes shut to soak in the rays warming them like stones on a riverbed.

“Your French still any good?” she asks, out of the blue cracking one eye open. That was one thing Daisy began to notice about Jane. When she was feeling chatty, she could never anticipate what the girl was going to say or ask. Daisy raises an eyebrow, looking at her sidelong and gives her a shrug.

“It’s alright, I guess. Why d’you ask?”

“Cause I can’t remember a lick of shit since Belgium but I wanna tell the French to haul ass and get rid of the roadblock.” At that, Daisy snorts at the mild irritation edging in Jane’s voice as she says it, folding up her paper and putting it in her pocket.

“What, don’t wanna beat the French to the nest?”

“I don’t give a damn who wins, I just want to get up there already.” Distantly, a sound of an explosion echoes down the road they’re all sat upon, and Daisy snorts. Last Daisy checked, they were getting quite… creative with how they intended to blow the roadblock sky high. Namely, combining explosives like a high-risk middle school science fair. Grenades, dynamite, bazookas, all which translated in Daisy’s mind as some idiot having too much fun and losing a couple fingers if they weren’t careful enough.

She’s hoping that the joy found in blowing things up might’ve died down a little bit with the war apparently coming so close to an end — but part of her knows that’s just her own foolish optimism.

But it is, admittedly, nice to know she still has some of it left after all this.

“Someone’s antsy,” Daisy can’t help but snicker, and Jane rolls her eyes.

“Ever the astute observations from my fearless leader.” She watches Jane shake out a cigarette and fish through her pocket for the lighter, lights it, and brings it to her own lips before letting smoke escape. Then she offers it to Daisy.

“Yeah well, that’s what they hired me for.”

“Your wise remarks?” Jane asks as Daisy takes it from her, bringing it to her own lips. They share a look as an engine roars and a jeep whizzes by them further up the road.

“My astute observations,” Daisy concurs, “Also, I think you might’ve gotten your wish after all, Gray.”

The town was dead quiet before they came in. An eerily empty place save for the rumble of engines, emblazoned in the red banners that make her entirely angry now. The moment their feet hit the ground, anything that gleams is fair game — for combat nurse and soldier alike, it seems.

Which is to say: Daisy’s bag is heavy with things that weren’t even hers, nor were they things that she necessarily picked up herself. She didn’t expect Rita to have such sticky fingers, but when the argument was that they’d need nice silverware for the apartment they’ve yet to get, she couldn’t exactly argue with that sound logic. And when Easy Company gets fired up to head further up the mountain — she allows herself a moment of childishness, sticking out her tongue to her friend who would be staying behind in town for the moment with the rest of Fox.

Okay, so maybe she got her pick of a couple candleholders in town, and maybe she was just a little bit eager to see if the stone mountain retreat had anything nicer than that. Which it should, because the damn thing had a gold plated elevator.

She’s greeted with lush couches and carpets, champagne in buckets of water that likely was ice, at one point, and the sound of popping bottles as everybody in the place helps themselves to the stash. Daisy wanders, curious as the men chip pieces off that big stone fireplace. She’s on one of the many balconies the retreat holds when Liebgott finds her first. He smacks one of those fireplace chunks unceremoniously into her hand. Then, he offers her the glass-green champagne bottle he’s carrying with him.

“It’s a special day, after all, don’t say I didn’t get you nothin’,” he hums with a knowing glint in his eye. She takes the bottle by the neck, glances up at him with slightly wider eyes and parted lips.

“You remembered?”

“What kinda dumb question is that?” He asks with a bit of a scoff. “‘Course I did, kid, now hurry up before I take the damn bottle back.” Daisy rolls her eyes and takes a swig, champagne bubbles popping on her tongue and going down smooth. It tastes expensive. She grins as she licks the excess from her lips and gives him the bottle back, and then he takes a swig from it himself before ruffling her hair. “Atta girl. Make any wishes?”

“I’d need candles for that.” He grins again and gives her a shrug.

“Sure we could work somethin’ out. Not like ol’ Adolf’s gonna need them. Y’know this place has a goddamn kitchen? Fully stocked.” He says, a sharp bite to the words. Daisy snorts, partially in disbelief.

“What, you're gonna make me a cake or something? I don’t know if I trust you around a stove while you’re drinking.” Joe laughs, a full sound accompanied by another ruffle of her hair. “Tell you what, you find me candles and I’ll make all the wishes in the world.” That seems to satisfy him, the grin not faltering as he looks up and past her. There’s a clearing of the throat, and Daisy turns around.

Ron stands in the doorway, straight-faced and looking between them, before his gaze focuses on Liebgott.

“I need to speak to Lieutenant Clarke, Liebgott,” he informs in that non-negotiable tone of his. As if they had important business to attend to among the pretty scenery and loungers arranged to overlook the woods below. Joe isn’t an idiot, so he nods, resigned.

“Yes, sir,” he responds with a salute, he walks back inside, disappearing into the building and Daisy watches as that stern look on Ron’s face practically melts away.

He’d been the first one up, with Malarkey and Alton. So it didn’t take a genius to know that wherever he’d stored his gear in this place — it would likely clink and clatter until it made its way to Vest at the post office to get all boxed up. He reaches up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, shorter strands that had fallen from its braid. Something about the mundaneness of the gesture makes her smile.

“One hell of a day,” Ron observes, giving her a knowing look.

“That’s a way to put it, yeah,” Daisy points out with a curious smile. He tilts her chin up with his knuckle until she’s looking at him completely.

“Make any wishes?”

“Didn’t you hear while you were creeping in the shadows? You can’t make a wish without candles.” She points out, and Ron rolls his eyes as he leans down to kiss her, her chin between his thumb and pointer. His lips taste like whiskey, and she can’t help but think back to the last time he drank — all weepy in her lap and dramatic in the morning. The grin that makes it onto her lips is enough to break their kiss. He gives her a half-hearted narrow-eyed look.

“I don’t creep.”

“Lurking then, it’s not a bad thing,” Daisy amends, and she can tell Ron is biting back what has to be a smile as he fishes around in his pocket.

“Fine. Lurking. Doesn’t matter, I got you something.”

“If it’s forks, I’m afraid Rita might have you beat there. I think the drawers might burst if we get any more.” Ron shakes his head immediately with a soft chuckle.

“Not forks, but good to know.”

What he produces from his pocket is much more delicate than the silverware or the candle holders or the hand mirrors.

It’s a sapphire pendant on a thin, silver chain. Delicate and pretty in a way that makes Daisy’s lips part on a gasp. She’d passed quite a bit of jewelry, but none of it were things she’d ever wear so she left it behind for someone else to take. It was all too chunky, too demanding of attention, too weighty in her hands. This was the opposite. Silver curls around that deep blue sapphire, holding it in place, but it was still the centerpiece in spite of the embellishments.

“Happy birthday, Dais,” he says simply. Daisy reaches up, fingers grazing the cold metal in awe. She then looks up at him, a million questions and statements all posed on her tongue.

“Can you put it on me?” is what she decides on, and to that he nods, and she turns around.

Fingers graze the back of her neck as his fingers work to fasten it. She doesn’t care about how he got it, where it came from — just that he’d picked it up not to mail home, but to give to her. And she shouldn’t expect anything less from him, but everything he does still manages to fill her with something that can only be described as pure wonder.

Ron is wonderful.

It’s not an epiphany of any sort, if anything, she feels like it’s the most obvious statement she could make. Of course he’s wonderful. Because Ron remembers things about people and makes a point to apply it. Ron knows everything about her, he listens to her. He could’ve given her any of the countless too-chunky rings and necklaces left abandoned in town or in this building. But he doesn’t. He finds the thing he knows she’ll wear and gives that to her instead.

So maybe, she’s just a little bit awestruck at how he could love a person like her in such a way. With such careful precision.

She turns around, throws her arms around his neck, and kisses him. His hands find her waist immediately, holding, squeezing as he returns her kiss with ease, remnants of champagne and whiskey mixing on their lips for a moment before they pull away — barely so, because her forehead presses against his and she makes a point to bump their noses.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Daisy breathes out without thinking. But she doesn’t pull away upon realizing what she’s said. She’d rather stare, and she’s glad she doesn’t look away, because he smiles. The rare one, where his eyes crinkle at the corners. Beautiful, breathtaking, rare but still Ron.

“Yeah? You love me?” Ron asks, his voice edging on a tease. It’s like watching years come off him in the span of seconds. He looks so boyish. She nods, cheeks flushing a bit at his tone, but his arms only wrap around her tighter.

“I do.”

He leans forward to kiss her again, briefer than before, but still firm against her.

“Then I love you too,” he mutters, then another kiss. “And when we go home,” kiss, “You know I’m marrying the hell outta you, right?”

Her heart skips a beat.

“Been thinking about that one for a while?” She asks, and Ron squeezes her hips, hazel eyes moving across her features as he examines her face.

“Figured to wait, that you’d want a ring that’s shiny and new and all yours.” And then he waits, leaving it open for her to contradict him — for her to object in any way she sees fit, but she doesn’t.

“You might have a point there.” She watches the way his smile returns.

“So is that a yes?”

Daisy reaches up to take his face in her hands, coarse stubble beneath her palms as she glides her thumbs over his cheekbones. Her turn to begin a sentence with a kiss.

“Ask me again in front of your mother with a ring that’s all mine, and then you’ll get an answer. Promise.”

Marriage. The thought had always been there — she’d wanted to get married, at some point, to somebody. As a teenager the idea scared her a bit — the thought that she could pick the wrong person clashing with the fantasy in her head of white wedding gowns and her father walking her down the aisle. It only worsened when she found out about the cheating. If she dared think about anything that wasn’t work, or the war, or James, it would tread into territory of her future spouse wrapped up in a secretary or something. Loving someone that wasn’t her.

Ron isn’t just somebody. And the thought of marrying him doesn’t scare her at all. It’s like a piece snapping into place, something sound and correct that she can envision clearly, even if the details are hazy.

One day in a not-so-distant future, he’s going to ask her to marry him. And she’s a hundred percent certain that she’s going to say yes.

The door opens and with that, the whooping and laughter from Harry and Nixon bounce off the walls, bottles of what she can assume is whiskey on ice in a bucket tucked into his arm. She catches Ginny behind the two of them with a small smile on her face, shoulders shaking in laughter.

“There he is! We aren’t interrupting something, are we?” Lew asks, more hypothetical than anything as Ron lets his hands fall to turn around. Ginny, on the other hand, eyes the new piece on Daisy’s neck and gives her a knowing look.

Lew doesn’t wait for an answer, he throws himself on the lounger with a catlike grin, and Harry reaches for one of the bottles.

Ron gives her a look as Harry pops off the cap, and all Daisy does is laugh.

#fic // sad beautiful tragic #ronald speirs x oc #ronald speirs x ofc #band of brothers oc #band of brothers fic #hbo war fic #hbo war oc #hbo war ofc #told yall it would be at the end of the month #which like totally snuck up on me #but HERE IT IS!!

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