#and he called her love amongst the snowflakes

[aeyumicore]

Love and Deepspace Boys Azure's Echo Day (Valentine's Day) Headcanons

♡ pairing: zayne x reader, xavier x reader, rafayel x reader

♡ genre: pure fluff!

♡ word count: 800ish

♡ content warning: none, just pure tooth rotting fluff!

♡ a/n: just some headcanons on how each of the boys act on v-day/azure's echo day! do they ask you to be their valentine? how do they ask? and what kind of bouquet do they get you. credit to my friend @/myusuchaa on twit for designing the cute ass flower cards below and coming up with the content as well. she is the most unhinged raf lover, go follow her!

ALSO the xavier smut is still dropping later tonight. but wanted to self indulge a bit and share with yall <3 HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY LOVES.

🌨️ Zayne

Does he ask you to be his Valentine?

Yes, he will ask you one week before the day, on the dot. Zayne might be blunt and sometimes abrasive, but he’s generous in affection for those he cares about, especially you, and incredibly perceptive. How do you think he climbed the medical ladder so fast? Also he won’t admit this, but he’s definitely taken mental notes on all the cheesy romance movies you’ve forced him to watch, so he’s learned a lot.

How does he ask?

Zayne is a simple romantic. But while his plan is simple, he pours over every little detail, no matter how minute. He’s had an appointment with his favorite florist for a month, and spends an hour hand picking each flower in the bouquet he’s planned for you. He will do his best to take the night off, though it isn’t unlikely he gets called in for emergency surgeries, to cook you dinner by candlelight even designing a whole ass menu for just the two of you. And only after you’ve finished dessert does he ask you if you’d do him the honor of being his Valentine. 

What bouquet does he get you?

A custom bouquet of a few select blue tweedia flowers and cape jasmines. Simple and elegant, like him. It’s reminiscent of iridescent snowflakes amongst a flurry of pure white snow. He sprinkles a few of his own never melting snowflakes on top, but not touching the flowers as cape jasmines cannot tolerate cold or icy temperatures, and it’s truly picturesque. He’s created his very own beautiful snowstorm for you, capturing his essence like a snow globe.

💫 Xavier

Does he ask you to be his Valentine?

He doesn’t at first, not until Tara or Jeremiah ask him if he has, three days before Valentine’s Day. And once he realizes he’s supposed to, he's a panicked mess. But he will scrap his entire day of hunting and miscellaneous errands to formulate and execute a plan. He knows you deserve the absolute best and he’s kicking himself for potentially blowing this. Best believe he will never forget to ask you ever again. 

How does he ask?

He goes missing all day on the 13th to find your favorite flowers and pastries from a bakery you two discovered on a past mission. It’s a whole day affair because he literally goes several towns over to get your pastries, and they always sell out within hours so he needs to go there the morning of. And then he arrives at your apartment door in a tailored white suit, his only one. With the most bashful grin and peachy pink face, he will ask you, his little star, to be his very first and last Valentine.

What bouquet does he get you?

You once told Xavier he reminded you of a Forget-me-not, and he remembers it to this very day. After all, the forget-me-not is known as a “star flower,” and you consider Xavier to be your very own shooting star, and he considers you his. So Xavier finds you a bouquet of blue forget-me-nots with a sprinkle of feverfew chamomile flowers amidst the sea of blue. It’s reminiscent of the glowing stars littered across the milky way, a view which you’d enjoyed with Xavier countless times. 

🎨 Rafayel

Does he ask you to be his Valentine?

Yes. He asks a million times, starting on February 1st. And if you say no, a single time, expect chaos. Whining and screaming. Feet kicking. All the dramatics. Mumbling about how you don’t love him anymore. Even if you take it back and say yes he will still be a little baby about it. While he asks you many different times, his most “serious” ask would be the weekend before Valentine’s day.

How does he ask?

Even though you’ve said yes countless times, he plans the most extravagant date, which isn’t out of the blue since he’s often spoiling you with his wealth and affection. After a day on a little yacht on the sea, admiring the glimmering sun against the ocean current, he will literally get down on one knee to ask you to be his Valentine. We all know Rafayel is all for theatrics, but more than that he loves to tease you and render you speechless, so he does this especially to mess with you. He'll be on one knee: "Will you make me the happiest man alive......................and be my Valentine?" Truly insufferable, but we love him.

What bouquet does he get you?

Rafayel loves flame lilies; there’s always vases of them in his home. They’ve made several appearances in his paintings, and on more than one occasion has he randomly gifted you a bouquet of them. And with how much time you spend with him, and how much they remind you of him, they’ve become dear to your own heart. Eternal memories and final goodbyes, it’s the perfect symbol of everlasting, neverending, and tragic love. He pairs these with some baby’s breath to create a picture of innocence, purity, and new beginnings against the backdrop of fiery red passion. The bouquet encapsulates Rafayel himself.

© aeyumicore 2024. please do not steal ♡

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #zayne #xavier #rafayel #zayne imagines #xavier imagines #rafayel imagines #zayne fluff #xavier fluff #rafayel fluff #zayne headcanons #xavier headcanons #rafayel headcanons #love and deepspace fluff #lads fluff #l&ds x reader #lads x you #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #valentines day headcanons #azures echo day

[apothe-roses]

Dance of the Sugarplum Prince

Nutcracker!Aemond x Clara!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: violence, character death, smut, tiddy sucking, oral (f-receiving), uncle-niece incest, unprotected sex, piv sex, breeding kink, possessive Aemond, obsessed Aemond

A/N: I may not be the first nor the last to do a nutcracker au, but I’m doin it anyways! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. All rights go to HBO and George RR Martin

The snow falls heavy and thick outside the window. You watch the snowflakes dance to the ground while your family makes a ruckus behind you. The adults Gossip amongst themselves while your brothers laugh and joke amongst themselves. You love your family, but you’ve grown tired of your overbearing aunties trying to set you up with “nice boys” they know.

You notice a figure making their way towards the front door, making your own way towards it to greet them. Right after the doorbell rings, you open the door, smiling at the woman on the other side.

“Aunt Alys,” you smile and embrace the older woman.

“Forgive me for my tardiness, but it’s nearly impossible to make one’s way through that,” she replies, indicating to the storm outside. Other family members come to greet Alys, so you move to the side and let them. She pulls a large case out from under her coat. She reveals several beautifully made dolls, winding them up and letting them dance across the carpet. Your family is in awe. While they’re distracted, Alys approaches you.

“I have a special gift for you,” Alys says. She opens her bag, gingerly pulling out a final doll. He was a beautiful man with long silver hair and black armor accentuated with gold.

“This,” you aunt explains, “is no ordinary knight. He is a prince of a faraway land.”

“Oh Alys, she’s too old for dolls!” your mother calls from across the room.

“Oh, but he’s so beautiful!” you rebut. “Couldn’t I just put on on my shelf and admire him?”

“You can put these dirty dishes in the kitchen,” your mother tells you. You sigh, setting your doll on the windowsill. Alys follows you into the kitchen.

“Perhaps you should’ve brought me a real prince. That would’ve made mother happy,” you laugh. Alys simply smiles at that.

Suddenly, a loud crash sounds from the sitting room, followed by your mother shouting “Luke!” You rush into the room. Your doll is lying on the floor at your brother’s feet.

“It was an accident!” Luke explains. “I only wanted to get a closer look!”

You rush over, picking your doll up off the ground. One of his eyes is broken. Luke apologizes profusely while you carefully extract the broken pieces. Alys approaches.

“I couldn’t find a spare eye, but this should fit,” she says, handing you a small sapphire. You slip it into his empty socket; it fits perfectly. She provides a small strip of black fabric that you use as a makeshift eyepatch.

“Thank you, Alys,” you say, giving the older woman a hug. You don’t notice the worried look she gives your doll.

BONG

BONG

BONG

Was it midnight already? You must have nodded off at some point. You look down at your prince, admiring his handsome face. Perhaps it’s the dim light, but it looks as though his mouth twitches.

You’re about to go to bed when something moves at the edge of your vision. A small man walks out from under your Christmas tree! For a moment, you think it’s your prince. However, this man has two eyes and looks older. He wears a crown that looks like it’s made of wood. He’s looking around, clearly searching for something. You stay as still as possible, hoping he doesn’t notice you. Theres a possibility you’re still dreaming, but you’re not willing to take that risk.

“Looking for someone, Daemon?” a voice calls out. Both your heads snap to the corner where it came from. Your mouth falls open. It’s your prince! But he’s alive! He approaches the man, sword drawn.

“Aemond,” Daemon greets. “It appears you’ve suffered a horrible accident. Shame. I was hoping for a fair fight.”

“And you’ll get one,” Aemond snaps. At that moment, more figures storm into view. You recognize them as your brothers’ toy soldiers.

“Alright. Two can play at that game,” Daemon raises a hand, and several mice scurry out from nowhere. You clap a hand over your mouth, trying not to scream. Daemon and Aemond draw their swords, circling one another. Daemon strikes first, but Aemond is quick to block. The mice and toys launch at each other. You’re enthralled. Though bloodless, the battle is intense.

Suddenly, Daemon strikes Aemond’s blind side. He’s sent flying to the floor, his sword clattering away. Daemon smiles viciously, standing over his nephew. He raises his sword to strike the killing blow and—

WHAM!

A giant slipper knocks him off his feet. Aemond glances at you, noting you are now missing a slipper. He grins, then springs into action. He draws a dagger, races to his uncle, and plunges the blade into his neck. Daemon never had time to regain his senses before he bleeds out, choking and clasping at his throat. The battle stops. The now leaderless mice scurry off, and the toy soldiers return to where your brothers left them originally. Aemond walks over to you. As he does, he grows until he’s the height of a normal man. You stare up at him, lips parted. He’s tall, and even more handsome as a man.

“You saved me,” he states, kneeling at your side.

“I-it was nothing,” you stammer, blushing. “I didn’t want him to…kill you.”

Aemond’s lips curl into a smirk. “Such a sweet thing you are,” he muses. He reaches out, winding a lock on your hair around his finger. “It’s not every day a man can say he was saved by someone so beautiful or kind.”

Your blush deepens. “You’re too kind,” you whisper.

“You must come back to the castle with me. My family will want to meet the girl who helped defeat my wicked uncle and his wretched mouse army,” he stands, extending a hand to you. You look around the empty sitting room, wondering what to do.

“It’s only for tonight. I promise to have you back by morning,” he assures you. You bite your lip, not noticing the way his gaze darkens. Then, you smile and take his hand. When you stand, you notice how much taller he is. you look down shyly, but he tucks a finger under your chin and tilts your face up to his. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. But then he says, “let’s be off then,” and leads you to the Christmas tree. With each step, you shrink until you can easily walk under the branches.

You spot a castle in the distance. A beautiful red fortress perched on the edge of a cliff, overlooking a sprawling city. The faint ringing of bells can be heard.

“It seems word of our victory has spread,” Aemond observes. “I imagine the celebration is well underway.

“Oh, but I’m not dressed!” you realize.

“Look down, little one,” Aemond replies. You do, and you gasp. Your simple nightgown had been replaced with a beautiful white dress, tied by a large red ribbon. The skirt floats in light layers down to your calves. Your feet are covered by red slippers with ribbons wrapped around your legs.

“How…?” you start to ask, the question dying on your lips when you look up and see Aemond had changed as well. He’s wearing a black and red jacket adorned with golden epaulettes, and also matching breeches and shiny black boots. His hair is loose, and the swath of ribbon covering his eye is replaced with a proper eyepatch.

“Come,” he requests, extending his hand. “We don’t want to miss out on the festivities.”

The walk to the castle is filled with merriment as the small folk throw flowers over your heads and dance and cheer. Inside the castle is even more merry as ball is in full swing. You spy the king and queen at the end of the hall, their matching silver hair catching the light.

Aemond leads you to the middle of the dance floor and leads you in a waltz. The night passes in a series of twirls and lifts, until a hush falls over the crowd.

The king leads his queen off the dais into the center of the crowd. Everyone pushes back, forming a wide berth around them as they lead a solitary waltz. You feel a large hand on the small of your back.

“Come with me,” Aemond whispers. His breath tickles your ear.

He leads you out of the room. The two of you race down the halls. You haven’t felt this exhilarated since you were a child chasing your brothers outdoors.

You’re lead into a bedroom that you presume is his. You don’t have time to take in the decor, as he grabs your face and kisses you hungrily. You kiss him back, hands tangling in his soft hair.

He deftly undoes the bow on your back. He tries to untie the laces, but he gets impatient and just tears your dress open. You gasp as your dress falls from your body.

Aemond scoops you up and lays you on the bed. He looks over you like a lion about to devour his kill.

“Have you ever been with a man before little one?”

“N-no,” you stutter, causing him to chuckle.

“Well,” he starts, “allow me to show you.”

He tears the rest of your underthings off, leaving you bare before him. Without breaking eye contact, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. Your head rolls back as he sucks on the sensitive flesh, kneading your other side.

“So beautiful,” he gasps, switching to the other tit.

“So perfect.” He trails kisses down your torso. He fingers swipe through your folds. He brings them to his lips and sucks them clean; his eyes roll back and he groans.

“I knew you’d taste sweet,” he purrs. He lowers his head to your mound and drags his tongue through your folds. You gasp and instinctually shy away, but he pins you with this hands on your hips. You can only moan as he relentlessly devours your cunt.

“M-my prince…”

“Aemond. Call me Aemond,” he breathes, sending a shiver through you. You feel your peak approaching, closer and closer. It’s just about to wash over you when he pulls away. You whine at the loss of stimulation.

“The first time I make you come, it will be on my cock,” Aemond states, once again leaning over you. He sheds his clothing with ease. He’s truly one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. His cock is long and thick, and already leaking. He strokes himself as he gets into position.

“What if it doesn’t fit?” You ask innocently.

“It will fit.” He replies. “I’ll make it fit.”

He angles his cock and enters you with one sure thrust. You gasp loudly, clinging to his shoulders.

“Gods you’re tight,” he whispers. He begins to rock in and out of you, setting a steady pace.

“So wet, and I’ve barely touched you. Such a needy little thing. Absolutely begging to be fucked.”

You babble incoherently in response. Aemond chuckles and starts playing with your pearl.

“Already cockdumb are we?”

He pinches your pearl.

“I could keep you here you know. Fuck you—breed you— day and night, until your belly swells with my child. You’d like that wouldn’t you? My perfect little princess. My broodmare. Mine.”

You’re a little frightened by his declaration, but you’re to overwhelmed by pleasure to do anything about it. You can only lay there as you climax, the pleasure melting your bones and heating your blood.

“That’s my girl. That’s my good girl,” he groans, and you feel his cock pulse followed by a sense of warmth. He keeps his cock plugged inside until he starts to soften, then he pulls out. You feel a mixture of your fluid and his seed leak out. He hold your legs open, admiring the sight. Then, he lays down, pulling you into his arms.

“You’ll want for nothing. I’ll make sure of it,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hair.

You lay against his chest, and it isn’t long before sleep claims you.

“Sweetheart, wake up!” you hear your mother call. You reluctantly open your eyes. You’re in your own bed, in your own room.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but we have some surprise guests waiting downstairs,” she pulls open the curtains, and you wince at the sudden brightness.

“Get dressed quickly! I need to get back downstairs!” she rushes out of your room, closing the door behind you.

At first, you don’t move. There was a heaviness in your chest. It had all been a dream. Of course it had been a dream. Mice soldiers, living dolls, and princes could only be the product of dreams. This is the real world, and there are guests waiting for you.

As you get dressed, you realize your prince doll is nowhere to be found. You must have left him downstairs.

Voices could be heard in the sitting room as you make your way downstairs. Unfamiliar voices. You round the corner and freeze. Sitting around the room are three very familiar faces.

“Darling, these are my half-siblings.” She leads you to the Sugarplum King. “This is Aegon,” then to the Queen, who smiles sweetly at you, “Helaena,” then finally to the most familiar of them all, “and this is Aemond.”

He takes your hand in his, planting a kiss on your knuckles. You stare up at him with wide eyes. He’s wearing an eyepatch. Over the same eye your brother broke. Was he hiding a sapphire under there?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you breathe.

“Please, the pleasure is all mine, niece,” he purrs, looking at you in a way an uncle should never look at a niece.

“What happened to your eye?” Luke asked abruptly. Jace whacks him on the shoulder, admonishing him.

“Ow!”

“It’s alright. It was an accident long ago,” Aemond replies.

“Oh, let’s not dwell on unhappy memories,” your mother says, turning to Helaena. “How is Alicent? It’s been too long since I’ve heard from her.”

The conversation carries on, but you’ve stopped paying attention. You’re not looking at him, but you feel his gaze on you. Just as intense as it had been when he made love to you in your dream.

A dream.

It had only been a dream.

Right?

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

A Hell's Kitchen Christmas [Hallmark Trope]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Hallmark Special tv movie trope 1. Busy career woman in big city reluctantly returns to hometown for problem™. Handsome man in town who she initially clashes with wins her over and they fall in love. She stays in hometown. It is also Christmas. "You return to Hell's Kitchen to help your estranged dad in a legal battle over his hardware store. You’re a hot-shot Miami lawyer after all, how hard could it be? Except the charming, handsome local lawyer named Matt Murdock your dad hired to help him keeps getting in your way. And yes, it is Christmas. Because this is a Hallmark Movie."

Warnings: No use of Y/N. No pronouns are used for reader, so any gender applies! Catholic/Religious mass mentioned/attended by reader, reader’s mom is dead, Christmas, Fluff on top of fluff.

WC: 1500

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

The footsteps of parishioners thumped softly against the carpeted aisle of Clinton Church, nearly drowned out by the blaring of the organ as it played them out while they all exited. Christmas Eve Midnight Mass had just ended. Typically always over-crowded with those Sister Maggie called “Christers” (those who only attend church on Christmas and Easter), the many people walked past where Matt sat in a pew towards the back, chatting about what excitement tomorrow brought them (technically today, as it was nearly 1AM on Christmas Morning).

Matt remained in his seat, listening to the crowd depart, until there was just one other person in the chapel with him.

He noticed you as soon as he sat down before the service. Despite the many unfamiliar heartbeats in the crowd tonight, he picked yours out right away. Your citrus-scented perfume confirmed your presence when its pleasant smell reached him. 

You were alone, which Matt found odd. Not joined by your father for the holiday celebrations as he expected you to be.

He heard you finally stand from your spot and walk up to the altar just as the last of the crowd left. The lighter trembled in between your fingers as you picked up a tea light and lit it, placing it amongst the many flaming symbols of other people's prayers.

“Shit God, I know I don’t pray a lot… or at all really.”

Matt listened as you spoke, chuckling to himself. You clearly hadn’t noticed him there.

“Look, it’s just my dad… the hardware store has been his whole life since mom died and please, you just can’t take that away from him. I know me leaving didn’t help, I know. I’m still living with that guilt, believe me.” you continued to pray, sniffling and wiping away a tear from your eye

“But this pro-bono guy he’s got. I don’t think it’s gonna be enough. I guess what I’m asking is please just let him open his heart enough for me to help. Or at least for this Murdock schmuck to get it together enough and actually save my dad’s store. You know, like a nice Christmas miracle? Um… thanks God.”

You crossed yourself and bowed to the altar, turning to leave.

Matt could tell you spotted him from the gasp that left your mouth and the way your heart skipped a beat.

“Matt. Hey. Um… Merry Christmas.” you said, still trying not to cry as you walked over to him

“Hey. Merry Christmas to you too. Where’s your dad?”

“Oh, he had a long day today. You know him, he never stops working. I told him to stay home and rest. Can I walk you home?”

“Oh you don’t have to…”

“Come on Matt, it’s late and it’s Christmas. It’s only a few blocks anyway. Let me walk you home.”

Matt nodded and took your arm as you led him out of the church and into the cold New York night. The snowflakes danced around as the two of you walked, arm in arm. Crunching footsteps made a path through the white-covered sidewalk and left evidence of the route to Matt’s apartment you took. 

“Did you not bring a warmer coat? I can hear you shivering.” Matt exclaimed

“I didn’t. I never come home for Christmas, but with everything going on with my dad, I booked the trip so last minute and a winter coat isn’t exactly something I need in Miami.” you replied, tugging at the sleeves of your thin jacket

“May I?” Matt offered, releasing your arm for a moment to shrug off his wool pea coat.

Gloved hands ghosted your neck as he situated the garment around your shoulders. It was snuggly and warm and reminded you of Matt in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

“Thank you Matt. Not just for the coat, but for everything. You’re really helping my dad out.” you said, letting him take your arm once more and resuming your journey

“Oh yeah? You sure I’m not just some schmuck he hired?”

“Shit. You heard that? I didn’t mean it.” you shook your head and Matt just chuckled

“You really are a good lawyer.” you continued “Everything you’ve proposed we try and all the research you’ve done… I know I’ve been really hard on you since I got here and I’m sorry. I’m a big deal at my firm in Miami and I’ve worked really hard to get to where I am. And my dad is about to get evicted and he doesn’t even call his own kid to help? I know I’m in corporate finance law and I’m not licensed in New York but still… He didn’t tell me this was happening for months and he hired you and I was hurt.”

“So why’d you come back to New York then? If you think I’m a good enough lawyer to help your dad out that is?” Matt asked

“I didn’t think that at first. Didn’t think a small pro-bono firm could take on the big developer trying to tear down the whole block. But now that I’ve been working with you on this, well I was wrong. And maybe I came back too because I missed him and I missed home.”

“Yeah?”

The streets of Hell’s Kitchen were practically empty at this hour, families all tucked away in their homes waiting for the excitement of Christmas morning. It was tranquil, seeing the city that never sleeps so quiet and calm. The electric buzz that New York always seems to have was still there, but dimmed. 

“After my mom died, we just grew apart. He threw himself into work and I threw myself into school and my career. I think he was bitter that I moved away, that I didn’t want to take over the store from him.”

“Well you shouldn’t feel bad about going on your own path.” Matt reassured

“Yeah but it was the way I did it. But now that I’ve been back, god it’s like we used to be. Close you know?”

“Yeah I was really close with my dad too. And I’d give anything to have him back. To have what you and your dad have.”

“Shit you’re right. I guess that really puts it in perspective.” you replied

The purple and gold light of the video billboard on Matt’s block reflected off the snowflakes like a disco ball. A festive touch considering what day it was. You stopped your journey just outside his front door, facing him to observe the way he licked his lips as he formulated his next thought.

“I think he just wants what’s best for you.” 

“I know that. It’s a shame it took me this long to figure out what’s actually best for me.” you replied

“Oh yeah? You figured that out just in the 10 days you’ve been home? Wow counselor, research and evidence gathering stage usually takes longer.”

“Very funny Murdock. Yeah actually, I have.” you replied

 “And what did you figure out?”

“Matt, the work that you do, seeing it in action and how it’s helped my dad, it really inspired me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I think I want to shift my legal specialty. Find a firm to work for that takes on clients like yours and actually helps people. And Matt, I don’t know that I would have discovered that if it weren’t for you.”

A wide smile spread across Matt’s face as he lowered and shook his head.

“Well, I might know of just the firm that could use a lawyer as smart as you. You’d have to stay in Hell’s Kitchen though, or at the very least New York…”

“Matt, are you offering me a job?” you asked

“Well I mean you’d have to pass the bar in New York first, but yeah, actually I am.”

“What are you doing tomorrow– or today I guess technically?” you asked

“For Christmas? I don’t really have plans. I used to go to dinner at Foggy’s family, but his parents became snowbirds a few years ago, so now all the Nelsons travel to Florida for the holidays. Why?”

“My dad is cooking a fabulous meal and we’d love to have you join us. To thank you for all you’ve done. For both of us.”

“I don’t want to impose on your first Christmas in years with your dad.” Matt replied

“Oh c’mon Matt, you have to come! You’re practically family at this point; you’re saving my dad’s business, you’re repairing our relationship, you’re offering me a job.”

“Okay, okay. I will come.” he conceded

“Great! We can tell my dad I’m moving back to New York. Together.”

“Does that mean you’re saying yes? To my offer?”

“Yes Matt, I am saying yes. To working for you. And staying in New York.”

Reaching out with a trembling hand in the cold night air, you ran your thumb along his jaw. Matt let out a chuckle as you reveled in the way his stubble felt against your freezing fingers. A sigh escaped you into his plush, soft lips when he finally kissed you, warming you instantly from the chill.

“Merry Christmas, Matt.”

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.”

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #charlie cox #nmcu #trope de sept #hallmark #christmas fic #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x male reader #matt murdock x gn!reader #daredevil imagine #fluff #nmcu fic #mcu fic #daredevil fic #matt murdock x you #marvel daredevil

[nateezfics]

WIP [ HONGJOONG ]

title — the frozen king

genre — fantasy, royalty au, king!hongjoong, romance

current word count — 0 / still in brainstorming stage

warnings — none as of yet; will potentially contain some smut

this is a fic idea i’ve had rolling around in the back of my mind since october of last year; i’d made this post about it, and haven’t really worked on it since. it’s been in the brainstorming stage for almost a year now. below i’ll list some bullet points of what i’ve brainstormed thus far; and keep in mind, i still only have a vague idea of how i want the plot to unfold, so any of this could be subject to change.

• essentially, hongjoong is a powerful king who rules a kingdom within a vast land of ice and snow, named auroria.

• he harbors an intimidating power of ice, which allows him to create or wield ice at will, hence his nickname “the frozen king”. he has had this power since birth due to coming from a lineage of fae who used to rule the land; making him not completely human, but not completely fae.

• due to his power, his blood is cold, making him cool to the touch. he is also immune to the frigid weather of auroria. he has stark white hair, dark eyes, and rich skin that has a slight cool undertone. his eyes turn bright blue when yielding a substantial amount of his power.

• his powers and his unusual appearance intimidate his people and foreigners alike, but he combats this with a gentle and kind personality. he leads his kingdom with care, and over time has earned the trust and respect of his people. he is highly favored amongst the village children, whom he lets wander the castle grounds to play. he likes to build snowmen with the children and collect snowflakes, which just makes them love him even more. they’re enraptured by his icy power.

• he does have a dark past, though. terrified of the manifestation of his fae genetics, hongjoong’s parents — the king and queen — banished him when he was a young boy to perish in the icy terrain that lied between auroria and the neighboring kingdom, called the frigid plains. the king and queen lied to the kingdom, saying some tragic illness had taken the young prince.

• hongjoong’s natural immunity to the cold helped him to stay alive longer than he expected, but he hungered and thirst, which almost lead to his demise. he was rescued by a fae, who lived hidden within the frigid plains. he helped hongjoong survive and grow and conquer his power.

• his parents never produced another heir to replace him, and the king and queen perish during a terrible blizzard that plagues the kingdom of auroria. hongoong, much older, comes to restore his place on the throne, and after his parents death, does just that and quells the icy storm and saves his kingdom. there aurorians and foreigners who believe hongjoong caused the blizzard that ultimately took his parents’ lives, and those rumors cast a shadow on hongjoong’s rein, causing fear to still linger despite his kindness.

and this where i’m unsure of how to continue…

• reader is a princess of a struggling kingdom, who has been tasked with marrying the frozen king of auroria in hopes of saving her kingdom. she is scared to do so, as she’s always heard the stories of his power and fae heritage; the story of his parents’ death and his rise to the throne, while not proven, has spread amongst all the lands and caused people to despise and fear hongjoong.

• auroria is the last resort for reader’s kingdom to obtain a substantial ally. reader does what is asked.

i’m thinking of writing this out as a typical arranged marriage au where they fall in love in the end, but i’m considering changing the reader’s background entirely. idk. this is very much a work in progress. i hope you like the idea so far, and can maybe look forward to it being posted in the future!!

#ateez fanfiction #hongjoong fanfiction #ateez smut #hongjoong smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #ateez fanfiction wip #hongjoong fanfiction wip

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Jon X (Chapter 49)

"All praise R'hllor, the Lord of Light," the wedding guests answered in ragged chorus before a gust of ice-cold wind blew their words away. Jon Snow raised the hood of his cloak.

Wrong religion, I'm going to need a second ceremony.

+.+.+

The snowfall was light today, a thin scattering of flakes dancing in the air, but the wind was blowing from the east along the Wall, cold as the breath of the ice dragon in the tales Old Nan used to tell. 

Jon keeps referencing fictitious ice dragons. He's the only character who does this.

Probably because he's Ashara Dayne's son.

It felt like walking down the gullet of an ice dragon. - Jon VIII, ASOS

x

The wind was gusting, cold as the breath of the ice dragon in the tales Old Nan had told when Jon was a boy. - Jon VIII, ADWD

x

The road beneath the Wall was as dark and cold as the belly of an ice dragon and as twisty as a serpent. - Jon VIII, ADWD

+.+.+

Alys Karstark leaned close to Jon. "Snow during a wedding means a cold marriage. My lady mother always said so."

He glanced at Queen Selyse. There must have been a blizzard the day she and Stannis wed. 

The first few pages are purposely written in a way where it seems as if Alys Karstark (girl not in grey) and Jon Snow are getting married.

Do you get the sense a certain character was supposed to appear near this chapter?

+.+.+

A strained smile was frozen into place on her thin lips, but her eyes brimmed with reverence. She hates the cold but loves the flames. He had only to look at her to see that. A word from Melisandre, and she would walk into the fire willingly, embrace it like a lover.

Do people not understand he's being critical of her?

Of course Daenerys is next. Daenerys VIII ->

She heard the screams of frightened horses, and the voices of the Dothraki raised in shouts of fear and terror, and Ser Jorah calling her name and cursing. No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don't you see? Don't you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children. - Daenerys X, AGOT

+.+.+

Though only a few men of the Night's Watch had gathered about the ditchfire, more looked down from rooftops and windows and the steps of the great switchback stair. Jon took careful note of who was there and who was not. Some men had the duty; many just off watch were fast asleep. But others had chosen to absent themselves to show their disapproval. Othell Yarwyck and Bowen Marsh were amongst the missing. Septon Chayle had emerged briefly from the sept, fingering the seven-sided crystal on the thong about his neck, only to retreat inside again once the prayers began.

And here I thought Septon Chayle was killed by ironborn in A Clash of Kings.

This is one of those times Jon is completely in the wrong. They have every right to disapprove of this. The Lord Commander should not be playing politics and making marriages.

+.+.+

Alys Karstark slipped her arm through Jon's. "How much longer, Lord Snow? If I'm to be buried beneath this snow, I'd like to die a woman wed."

"Soon, my lady," Jon assured her. "Soon."

Eager Alys.

Eager Sansa?

+.+.+

Jon turned to Alys Karstark. "My lady. Are you ready?"

"Yes. Oh, yes."

"You're not scared?"

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me." The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled.

"Winter's lady." Jon squeezed her hand.

Are you ready to laugh?

That's considered Queen Arya / Jonrya foreshadowing. Hahaha.

Similar to Ygritte, we have Jon making a superficial comparison between Arya and Alys, but Alys is OBVIOUSLY A STAND-IN FOR THE OTHER SISTER.

But I don't necessarily want to give away my hand. So, what do I do when I plant the seed? Well, I plant the seed, but I try to do a little literary sleight of hand, and while I'm planting the seed, my other hand is up there waving and is distracting you with some flashy bit of wordplay or something that's going on in the foreground, while the seed is being planted in the background. So hopefully the seed is there, the foreshadowing is there, but maybe you won't notice it, because it's surrounded by so many other things. - George R. R. Martin

+.+.+

The Magnar of Thenn stood waiting by the fire, clad as if for battle, in fur and leather and bronze scales, a bronze sword at his hip. His receding hair made him look older than his years, but as he turned to watch his bride approach, Jon could see the boy in him. His eyes were big as walnuts, though whether it was the fire, the priestess, or the woman that had put the fear in him Jon could not say. Alys was more right than she knew.

This is shit writing. The last time we saw Sigorn he was threatening to kill everyone. Maybe spend a small paragraph telling us how we got to this point, George.

"Fight for you?" This voice was thickly accented. Sigorn, the young Magnar of Thenn, spoke the Common Tongue haltingly at best. "Not fight for you. Kill you better. Kill all you." - Jon X, ADWD

+.+.+

"Who brings this woman to be wed?" asked Melisandre.

"I do," said Jon. "Now comes Alys of House Karstark, a woman grown and flowered, of noble blood and birth." He gave her hand one last squeeze and stepped back to join the others.

"Who comes forth to claim this woman?" asked Melisandre.

"Me." Sigorn slapped his chest. "Magnar of Thenn."

"Sigorn," asked Melisandre, "will you share your fire with Alys, and warm her when the night is dark and full of terrors?"

"I swear me." The Magnar's promise was a white cloud in the air. Snow dappled his shoulders. His ears were red. "By the red god's flames, I warm her all her days."

This is cute.

+.+.+

"Alys, do you swear to share your fire with Sigorn, and warm him when the night is dark and full of terrors?"

"Till his blood is boiling." Her maiden's cloak was the black wool of the Night's Watch. The Karstark sunburst sewn on its back was made of the same white fur that lined it.

Girl not in grey is still not wearing grey.

+.+.+

"Two went into the flames." A gust of wind lifted the red woman's scarlet skirts till she pressed them down again. "One emerges." Her coppery hair danced about her head. "What fire joins, none may put asunder."

"What fire joins, none may put asunder," came the echo, from queen's men and Thenns and even a few of the black brothers.

Except for kings and uncles, thought Jon Snow.

Don't you hate it when queens kings and aunts uncles do that?

Daenerys VIII ->

+.+.+

Like so much else, heraldry ended at the Wall. The Thenns had no family arms as was customary amongst the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms, so Jon told the stewards to improvise. He thought they had done well. The bride's cloak Sigorn fastened about Lady Alys's shoulders showed a bronze disk on a field of white wool, surrounded by flames made with wisps of crimson silk. The echo of the Karstark sunburst was there for those who cared to look, but differenced to make the arms appropriate for House Thenn.

I'm a bit confused, if Harrion dies will House Thenn rule Karhold? Will this be their new sigil? Alys is marrying into his house, not the other way around.

This won't be the last marriage we see between the free folk and northern houses. There's too many unmarried women, and too many wildlings to settle.

 "A wolf for every widow," Mushroom japed, "he will warm her bed in winter, and gnaw her bones come spring." Yet hundreds of marriages were made at the so-called Widow Fairs held at Raventree, Riverrun, Stoney Sept, the Twins, and Fairmarket. Those northmen who did not wish to marry instead swore their swords to lords both great and small as guards and men-at-arms. [...] The resettled northmen not only strengthened the riverlords who welcomed them, particularly House Tully and House Blackwood, but also helped revive and spread the worship of the old gods south of the Neck. - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

"Hobb's mulled some wine with cinnamon and cloves. That'll warm us some."

"What's cloves?" asked Owen the Oaf.

"What will you name the babe?" she asked. "Cinnamon if she's a girl? Cloves if he's a boy?" - Alayne I, TWOW

Do you get the sense a certain character was supposed to appear near this chapter?

+.+.+

"Will my lord be feasting with us?" Mully asked Jon Snow.

"Shortly." Sigorn might take it as a slight if he did not appear. And this marriage is mine own work, after all. "I have other matters to attend to first, however."

How can that be? Only kings make marriages.

Marriages and inheritance are matters for the king, my lady. - Jon IX, ADWD

+.+.+

His boots crunched through piles of old snow. It was growing ever more time-consuming to shovel out the paths from one building to another; more and more, the men were resorting to the underground passages they called wormways.

We know how the secret underground tunnels of King's Landing will become relevant, but we haven't figured out the wormways yet.

+.+.+

"I could feel our lord's fiery gaze upon us. Oh, you cannot know how many times I have begged Stannis to let us be wed again, a true joining of body and spirit blessed by the Lord of Light. I know that I could give His Grace more children if we were bound in fire."

To give him more children you would first need to get him into your bed. Even at the Wall, it was common knowledge that Stannis Baratheon had shunned his wife for years. One could only imagine how His Grace had responded to the notion of a second wedding in the midst of his war.

Kill me the day I start fangirling over a man who hates all women and doesn't have sex with his wife.

+.+.+

The royal ducklings fell in behind them as they made their way across the yard, marching to the music of the bells on the fool's hat. "Under the sea the mermen feast on starfish soup, and all the serving men are crabs," Patchface proclaimed as they went. "I know, I know, oh, oh, oh."

You.

The merman feasting has to be Wyman Manderly.

The only crab that makes any sense to me is Godric Borrell, Lord of Sweetsister, who we met in the first Davos chapter.

"A pity. Gella's not. Homely women make the best wives. There's three kinds of crabs in there. Red crabs and spider crabs and conquerors. I won't eat spider crab, except in sister's stew. Makes me feel half a cannibal." His lordship gestured at the banner hanging above the cold black hearth. A spider crab was embroidered there, white on a grey-green field. - Davos I, ADWD

That leaves starfish soup. The general consensus is that this is a clever nod to House Bolton.

I'm not sure, but I don't have a better answer.

+.+.+

Melisandre's face darkened. "That creature is dangerous. Many a time I have glimpsed him in my flames. Sometimes there are skulls about him, and his lips are red with blood."

A wonder you haven't had the poor man burned. All it would take was a word in the queen's ear, and Patchface would feed her fires. 

Do people not understand he's being critical of her? Daenerys VIII ->

All it would take was a word in the queen's ear, and Patchface would feed her fires. 

What if the word is Shireen?

Maybe Patchface, instrument of the Drowned God, will kill Melisandre.

Kidding, kidding.

+.+.+

"You see fools in your fire, but no hint of Stannis?"

"When I search for him all I see is snow."

Is this regular snow, Jon Snow, or Ramsay Snow? It's not Jon "Azor Ahai" Snow evidence, I'll tell you that much.

When I was reading comments for this chapter it was amusing to see how many people were able to work out that 'snow' is often used to symbolize Jon Snow.

Yet they have such difficulty making that connection when it's drifting snowflakes making out with Sansa.

+.+.+

"He is not dead. Stannis is the Lord's chosen, destined to lead the fight against the dark. I have seen it in the flames, read of it in ancient prophecy. When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. Dragonstone is the place of smoke and salt."

Jon had heard all this before. "Stannis Baratheon was the Lord of Dragonstone, but he was not born there. He was born at Storm's End, like his brothers."

Great point, Jon. Does anyone know if another character was born at Dragonstone?

+.+.+

"And what of Mance? Is he lost as well? What do your fires show?"

"The same, I fear. Only snow."

Is this regular snow, Jon Snow, or Ramsay Snow?

+.+.+

"I am seeing skulls. And you. I see your face every time I look into the flames. The danger that I warned you of grows very close now."

"Daggers in the dark. I know. You will forgive my doubts, my lady. A grey girl on a dying horse, fleeing from a marriage, that was what you said."

You're pissing everyone off, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to be a little cautious, vision or no vision.

+.+.+

"I was not wrong."

"You were not right. Alys is not Arya."

"The vision was a true one. It was my reading that was false. I am as mortal as you, Jon Snow. All mortals err."

Gosh, it seems everywhere you look someone is misinterpreting a vision!

"Benerro has sent forth the word from Volantis. Her coming is the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy. From smoke and salt was she born to make the world anew. She is Azor Ahai returned … and her triumph over darkness will bring a summer that will never end … death itself will bend its knee, and all those who die fighting in her cause shall be reborn …" - Tyrion VI, ADWD

Anyway, can Melisandre please ask herself why this girl not in grey wasn't wearing grey, and didn't travel near a lake?

+.+.+

"Even lord commanders." Mance Rayder and his spearwives had not returned, and Jon could not help but wonder whether the red woman had lied of a purpose. Is she playing her own game?

Yes.

+.+.+

"You would do well to keep your wolf beside you, my lord."

"Ghost is seldom far." 

Ghost would have followed as well, but as the wolf came padding after them, Jon grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and wrestled him back inside. Borroq might be amongst those gathering at the Shieldhall. The last thing he needed just now was his wolf savaging the skinchanger's boar. - Jon XIII, ADWD

+.+.+

"Your niece is wed."

Cregan Karstark's lips skinned back from his teeth. "Alys was promised to me." Though past fifty, he had been a strong man when he went into the cell. The cold had robbed him of that strength and left him stiff and weak. "My lord father—"

"Your father is a castellan, not a lord. And a castellan has no right to make marriage pacts."

"My father, Arnolf, is Lord of Karhold."

"A son comes before an uncle by all the laws I know."

Oh dear, someone is going to be upset when they learn that.

Daenerys VIII ->

+.+.+

Cregan pushed himself to his feet and kicked aside the furs clinging to his ankles. "Harrion is dead."

Or will be soon. "A daughter comes before an uncle too. If her brother is dead, Karhold belongs to Lady Alys. And she has given her hand in marriage to Sigorn, Magnar of Thenn."

She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. - Sansa II, ASOS

x

Jon said, "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa." - Jon IV, ADWD

+.+.+

"I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. You would deliver a highborn maid to the bed of some stinking savage. Did you sample her yourself first?" He laughed. "If you mean to kill me, do it and be damned for a kinslayer. Stark and Karstark are one blood."

"My name is Snow."

I am not the trusting fool you take me for … nor am I half wildling, no matter what you believe. - Jon XI, ADWD

Unless this is Game of Thrones, in which case he is.

+.+.+

"Sigorn leads two hundred Thenns," Jon pointed out, "and Lady Alys believes Karhold will open its gates to her. Two of your men have already sworn her their service and confirmed all she had to say concerning the plans your father made with Ramsay Snow. You have close kin at Karhold, I am told. A word from you could save their lives. Yield the castle. Lady Alys will pardon the women who betrayed her and allow the men to take the black."

He called him Ramsay Snow. Lol

Add two hundred Thenns to Team Stark.

+.+.+

I should make his head a wedding gift for Lady Alys and her Magnar, Jon thought, but dare not take the risk. 

Aww, what a gesture.

Sansa stared hard at his ugly face, remembering how he had thrown down her father for Ser Ilyn to behead, wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head. - Sansa VI, AGOT

x

Jaime thought back on the head he'd given to Pia. He could almost hear his little brother chuckle. Whatever became of giving women flowers? - Jaime IV, AFFC

+.+.+

Behead this fool, and they will claim I am killing northmen to give their lands to wildlings. Release him, and he will do his best to rip apart all I've done with Lady Alys and the Magnar. Jon wondered what his father would do, how his uncle might deal with this. But Eddard Stark was dead, Benjen Stark lost in the frozen wilds beyond the Wall. You know nothing, Jon Snow.

Sometimes you really don't know anything.

Wonder about the uncle, forget the father.

+.+.+

Old Flint and The Norrey had been given places of high honor just below the dais. Both men had been too old to march with Stannis; they had sent their sons and grandsons in their stead. But they had been quick enough to descend on Castle Black for the wedding. 

He's making friends with the mountain clans!

Let them liveeeeeee.

+.+.+

Each had brought a wet nurse to the Wall as well. The Norrey woman was forty, with the biggest breasts Jon Snow had ever seen. The Flint girl was fourteen and flat-chested as a boy, though she did not lack for milk. 

A fourteen-year-old wetnurse?

+.+.+

That old rogue Ulmer of the Kingswood proved as adept at dancing as he was at archery, no doubt regaling his partners with his tales of the Kingswood Brotherhood, when he rode with Simon Toyne and Big Belly Ben and helped Wenda the White Fawn burn her mark in the buttocks of her highborn captives. 

Why is this here?

+.+.+

"Do you dance often, here at Castle Black?"

"Every time we have a wedding, my lady."

"You could dance with me, you know. It would be only courteous. You danced with me anon."

"Anon?" teased Jon.

"When we were children." She tore off a bit of bread and threw it at him. "As you know well."

Aww, did you dance together when you were children?

What would she do when the music began to play? It was a vexing question, to which her heart and head gave different answers. Sansa loved to dance, but Alayne . . . - Alayne II, AFFC

Every jonsa already knows this, but I will say it again:

Anon means soon; shortly. And yes, you absolutely should be side-eyeing this exchange.

+.+.+

"My lady should dance with her husband."

When the musicians began to play, she timidly laid her hand on Tyrion's and said, "My lord, should we lead the dance?"

His mouth twisted. "I think we have already given them sufficent amusement for one day, don't you?"

"As you say, my lord." She pulled her hand back.

Joffrey and Margaery led in their place. How can a monster dance so beautifully? Sansa wondered. She had often daydreamed of how she would dance at her wedding, with every eye upon her and her handsome lord. In her dreams they had all been smiling. Not even my husband is smiling.

[...]

"Lady Sansa." Ser Garlan Tyrell stood beside the dais. "Would you honor me? If your lord consents?"

The Imp's mismatched eyes narrowed. "My lady can dance with whomever she pleases." - Sansa III, ASOS

+.+.+

"My lady should dance with her husband."

I'm not done!

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. "Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?"

She considered for a moment. "No. I don't think so."

[...]

He grinned. "I will hold you to that promise, my lady. Until that day, may I wear your favor in the tourney?"

"You may not. It is promised to...another." She was not sure who as yet, but she knew she would find someone. - Alayne I, TWOW

I bet she will. I bet they'll both find their proper dance partners.

Do you get the sense a certain character was supposed to appear near this chapter?

+.+.+

"Different," she said, "but more like us."

"Aye, my lady. The Thenns have lords and laws." They know how to kneel. "They mine tin and copper for bronze, forge their own arms and armor instead of stealing it. A proud folk, and brave. Mance Rayder had to best the old Magnar thrice before Styr would accept him as King-Beyond-the-Wall."

Kneel to whom?

+.+.+

"And now they are here, on our side of the Wall. Driven from their mountain fastness and into my bedchamber." She smiled a wry smile. "It is my own fault. My lord father told me I must charm your brother Robb, but I was only six and didn't know how."

Aye, but now you're almost six-and-ten, and we must pray you will know how to charm your new husband. 

Bringing Harry here was the first step in our plan, but now we need to keep him, and only you can do that. He has a weakness for a pretty face, and whose face is prettier than yours? Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him." - Alayne I, TWOW

Do you get the sense a certain character was supposed to appear near this chapter?

+.+.+

"My lady, how do things stand at Karhold with your food stores?"

"Not well." Alys sighed. "My father took so many of our men south with him that only the women and young boys were left to bring the harvest in. Them, and the men too old or crippled to go off to war. Crops withered in the fields or were pounded into the mud by autumn rains. And now the snows are come. This winter will be hard. Few of the old people will survive it, and many children will perish as well."

No pressure Sansa, but there's no food.

We could, thought Jon, if we had the gold, and someone willing to sell us food. Both of those were lacking. Our best hope may be the Eyrie. The Vale of Arryn was famously fertile and had gone untouched during the fighting. - Jon IV, ADWD

x

"Post guardsmen on the docks. If need be, seize the ships. How does not matter, so long as no food leaves the Vale." - Alayne I, TWOW

+.+.+

It was a tale that any northmen knew well. "My father's grandmother was a Flint of the mountains, on his mother's side," Jon told her. "The First Flints, they call themselves. They say the other Flints are the blood of younger sons, who had to leave the mountains to find food and land and wives. It has always been a harsh life up there. When the snows fall and food grows scarce, their young must travel to the winter town or take service at one castle or the other. The old men gather up what strength remains in them and announce that they are going hunting. Some are found come spring. More are never seen again."

Ned Stark's grandmother was Arya Flint.

Arya married Rodrik Stark, The Wandering Wolf.

+.+.+

"When your stores begin to dwindle, my lady, remember us. Send your old men to the Wall, let them say our words. Here at least they will not die alone in the snow, with only memories to warm them. Send us boys as well, if you have boys to spare."

+.+.+

"As you say." She touched his hand. "Karhold remembers."

This is why the House Royce words are so obviously a reference to House Stark.

There's no way the House Royce words are a coincidence.

+.+.+

The letter had been written by Maester Harmune; Cotter Pyke could neither read nor write. But the words were Pyke's, set down as he had spoken them, blunt and to the point.

Calm seas today. Eleven ships set sail for Hardhome on the morning tide. Three Braavosi, four Lyseni, four of ours. Two of the Lyseni barely seaworthy. We may drown more wildlings than we save. Your command. Twenty ravens aboard, and Maester Harmune. Will send reports. I command from Talon, Tattersalt second on Blackbird, Ser Glendon holds Eastwatch.

Four Lyseni ships?

The three Braavosi ships would bring the fleet at Eastwatch up to eleven, including the Ibbenese whaler that Cotter Pyke had commandeered on Jon's order, a trading galley out of Pentos similarly impressed, and three battered Lysene warships, remnants of Salladhor Saan's former fleet driven back north by the autumn storms. All three of Saan's ships had been in dire need of refitting, but by now the work should be complete. - Jon IX, ADWD

That was one chapter ago. You notice the older George gets the more this is happening?

+.+.+

"No, my lady. This news was long awaited." Though the last part troubles me. Glendon Hewett was a seasoned man and a strong one, a sensible choice to command in Cotter Pyke's absence. But he was also as much a friend as Alliser Thorne could boast, and a crony of sorts with Janos Slynt, however briefly. Jon could still recall how Hewett had dragged him from his bed, and the feel of his boot slamming into his ribs. Not the man I would have chosen. He rolled the parchment up and slipped it into his belt.

Not sure what will come of this, if anything.

+.+.+

The fish course was next, but as the pike was being boned Lady Alys dragged the Magnar up onto the floor. 

They consummated the marriage!

+.+.+

Axell Florent smiled. "The king might say the same if he were here. Yet some provision must be made for His Grace's leal knights, surely? They have followed him so far and at such cost. And we must needs bind these wildlings to king and realm. This marriage is a good first step, but I know that it would please the queen to see the wildling princess wed as well."

Jon sighed. He was weary of explaining that Val was no true princess. No matter how often he told them, they never seemed to hear. 

Wait for it. It's building.

+.+.+

Jon had heard enough. "Ser Axell, if you are truly the Queen's Hand, I pity Her Grace."

Florent's face grew flushed with anger. "So it is true. You mean to keep her for yourself, I see it now. The bastard wants his father's seat."

The bastard refused his father's seat. If the bastard had wanted Val, all he had to do was ask for her. "You must excuse me, ser," he said. "I need a breath of fresh air." It stinks in here. His head turned. "That was a horn."

I know Stannis told him to keep his mouth shut, but I don't know why he doesn't say the quiet part out loud.

Every time Jon reminds us he rejected Cool Girl Val, I laugh.

+.+.+

"Two blasts," said Mully.

Black brothers, northmen, free folk, Thenns, queen's men, all of them fell quiet, listening. Five heartbeats passed. Ten. Twenty. Then Owen the Oaf tittered, and Jon Snow could breathe again. "Two blasts," he announced. "Wildlings." Val.

Tormund Giantsbane had come at last.

He's more excited to see Tormund. Lol

Final thoughts:

A snowflake danced upon the air. Then another. Dance with me, Jon Snow, he thought. You'll dance with me anon.

Soon!

❤️❤️❤️

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #jon x

[randomingoftherandomness]

A/N: I call this one "3 people fall a bit in love with Yuanzhi Didi and his Gege who gets jealous”

—

i. Yun Weishan

Objectively, she knows when something is beautiful. She’d been trained to be heartless and cold, but Wufeng could never quite smother out her ability to find beauty even in the most unlikeliest of moments.

Just like now, as she is sitting in Gong Yuanzhi’s laboratory sipping tea, placidly commenting on the poisons that the young man has developed.

He’s still got his edges, of that Yun Weishan has no doubts, and the likelihood of him ever fully trusting her is about as much as a snowflake’s chance in the heat of summer. She thinks it is a good survival instinct so she isn’t doing much by way of assuaging his paranoia, even if her husband has decided that sending over the strangest new herbs and plants from far and wide to his younger cousin is the best way to foster a relationship with him

“How about this one?”

She eyes the powder. “A quick death?”

“Slow.”

“Naturally.”

Gong Yuanzhi smiles. Pleased and small, and for a moment, Yun Weishan feels her breath catch in her chest at the way the watery sunlight catches on his cheek as he carefully exchanges the small dish with one that has a clear unguent.

"And this?"

Yun Weishan clears her throat and gathers her wits to study his offering. She blinks and Gong Yuanzhi cocks his head to the side as if curious.

She lowers her eyes. Best not to be caught looking at him too long.

ii. Elder Yue

Despite himself, his thirst for knowledge ultimately trumps whatever propriety or austerity he needs to keep as one of the three Elders of the family. At the heart of it, he will always be that Young Master who snuck out of the back hill to catch a glimpse of the Chuyun Chonglian grown by a prodigy in the family.

The same prodigy who is handing over a box of that same bloom.

"For you to study." Gong Yuanzhi respectfully says. This brat has always had an edge of impudence when talking to anyone who isn't his Shangjue gege. Why the sudden change of tone?

He thanks him, waving for an attendant to bring it away for storage. "Is there something you'd like in return? A gift needs to be reciprocated after all."

Gong Yuanzhi smiles. A genuine and honest one that floors Elder Yue for a beat before he surreptitiously steadies himself with a hand to the railing. Feeling heat suffuse his cheeks, he has to look away.

"I'd like to see your laboratory," Gong Yuanzhi says.

"My laboratory? It's no different than yours, I believe."

Gong Yuanzhi shakes his head, still smiling. Elder Yue thinks his own face must resemble the red of a New Year's couplet.

"I'm sure it's different." He insists. Pausing, before squirming a little. Looking a little bashful, he grows serious. "Our skills are complementary. Every poison has an antidote. Every illness has a cure. We are amongst the greatest minds in our generation. I'm sure if we put our minds together, we can come up with the solution to what the world needs."

Elder Yue purses his lips. "That... I did not expect that reasoning out of you."

Gong Yuanzhi relaxes his shoulders. "Too idealistic?"

"I would have never pegged you for it." Elder Yue counters with a soft grin. Turning, he beckons. "Come on. Follow me."

iii. Gong Ziyu

It's his first Mid-Autumn festival since ascending to the position of Sword Wielder. There's a sense of anticipation as the sound of his family fills the hall, all intermingling and chatting as they enjoy their meal.

Ah Yun is next to him, smiling as she pours him a cup of wine. Close by, he can see Jin Fan being secretly fed mooncakes by Zishang jie. Elder Xue and Elder Yue have their heads bowed, deep in conversation, while Xue Tongzi is silently drinking on his own.

The room feels full yet empty of faces that should be here. The thought sits heavy in his chest. There's still much to rebuild, much to heal and restore, but that will be a job for when the sun rises. Tonight, Ziyu is content to exist in the warmth of his family.

Then, his eyes travel to where Shangjue gege is seated with Yuanzhi didi.

There's a sense of quiet grace about them. Though they're not apart from the merriment, there's a feeling of separation. As if they exist in a world of their own and are happy to be so. Watching them a little longer, he sees the almost unspoken understanding between them; a careful chopstick serving of Yuanzhi didi's favourite dish, a pouring of wine into Shangjue gege's cup before he even asks for it. A little dance between them with steps that only they know.

Yuanzhi didi says something that has Shangjue gege smiling and that in turn has didi beaming. Happiness radiates as he leans into Shangjue. Distantly, in some part of him that still remembers the romantic notions of a youth he has left behind, he thinks that in a different life, Shangjue and Yuanzhi would make a good looking couple.

In the candlelight, Yuanzhi glows when Shangjue gege tilts his head to whisper something into his ear. His face goes slack with surprise and Yuanzhi turns to face Ziyu.

Their eyes meet across the hall. Yuanzhi is the first to smile, toasting him with his wine cup. Ziyu returns the smile and toasts him back.

+ Gong Shangjue

Gong Shangjue is not a jealous person, thank you very much.

No. He prides himself as reasonable. Logical and calm. Always thinking with his head over his heart, never being led by his emotions and always able to think things through before he acts on them.

He doesn't covet. He doesn't crave.

But when it comes to Yuanzhi didi's smiles?

Shangjue wants to hoard every single one of them for himself. Every time Didi smiles, he wants to sit and paint the exact arc that his lips takes and how it makes his eyes light up in a way that has him mesmerised. Shangjue wants to write odes and poetry, wax lyrically about how his world comes alive when Yuanzhi is by his side.

He wants to hunt down anyone Yuanzhi has shared his smiles with; wants to climb to the highest point of the mountain and shout to the world that this was his man and his alone, and no one can have him.

Heavens above, he knows he is insufferable when it comes to his little brother and he doesn’t care. The world will just have to deal with how much he loves and adores Yuanzhi.

And don’t get him started on how he calls him “Gege”.

Some days he just wants to lock Yuanzhi up next to him so that he is never out of sight. It’s ridiculous.

But then he remembers that he is the only one who gets to come home to Yuanzhi’s hugs, how Yuanzhi will always be there waiting to greet him at the end of a long journey away from the valley. Shangjue will forever be the only one to know how Yuanzhi looks tucked up against him in sleep, how he tastes when kissed in the middle of the day, how he feels when being made love to.

Shangjue reminds himself that Yuanzhi knows his blood as well as he knows his. It’s enough.

Thus, in conclusion, Gong Shangjue is absolutely not a jealous man, no. He’s just one who knows the gem that he has by his side.

#my journey to you #my journey to you fic #gong shangjue x gong yuanzhi #gab writes stuff #HNGGH this one got away from me

[maximumcupcakemusic]

The guardians of the Pharaoh.

I don't own Yugioh or it's characters.

Chapter 1

Many have lived their lives with the obvious delusion that life is a spectacular and mesmerising thing to wonder through. Brought into this world as a small, fragile, yet beautiful infant who has a warm hearted, loving and beyond beautiful mother. Whose eyes are bejewelled with a light that scare away any evil in your precious little heart. And don't forget her humble smile, her lips curved into a perfect crescent moon that gives passage to softly spoken words such as 'I love you' in a voice that's calm and subtle, like the gentle breeze of an Autumn morning. And beside her is a father. A powerful yet meek man whose firm yet welcoming grip brought you up over the many years, a man who guided you over the unpredictable, treacherous and hard road of life. Always there to catch you when you stumble and break down. His unforgettable words, spoken in a humble tone but still coated in love...if only that were true for me...

 

I had the misfortune of being brought into the cruel, withering and cold piece of hell screaming, alone and afraid. The woman, who sadly carried me in her doomed body for 9 long months, was released from her mortal existence mere moments before I was pulled out of the warm, protective womb where I was created, into the hell that is called the world. The man, who was supposedly married to the now empty and lifeless woman, a man whom I was supposed to call father, a coward who left behind a small, vulnerable baby girl...he left her lying in the incubator...alone...nameless...unwanted...afraid...a nothing with no one to hold her as her terrified and glass shattering broken screams and cries echoed throughout the chilling white halls of the hospital that stood short amongst the square giants that formed the brightly lit city. Its crowded streets and busy roads, the load hooting of taxi's, the busy and singled minded people shouting their lungs out, dulled out the heart broken cries of the abandoned and neglected little girl...the broken cries of a confused and trembling little me...

 

...learning at only an hour old...

 

...what loneliness and brokenness really was...

 

The doctors said I was born a tiny baby, small enough to fit into a handbag like those barking rats the celebrities prance around with. I was born with skin whiter than the first snowflake of winter and smoother than a porcelain doll. Dark wavy curls covered my scalp, each gentle curl facing a different direction like a bunch of waddling penguins. Born with a small mouth, it was hard to believe that something so tiny could produce such an ear bursting sound. And the eyes...the kind, small and skinny nurse who had taken care of me, said she had never seen such eyes before...a deep blue shade that could have been mistaken for sapphires. These two orbs of beauty that held such innocence and purity...also held so much hurt and agony at such a tender age...already knowing that the world was a cruel place...that the spiked claws of darkness and despair would always try to snuff out the light of happiness and goodness...dragging away everything you have...until you are completely alone...like me...

 

I was left at an orphanage a week after I was born and given the name Lillian. The place was cold like everything else on this retched planet. The walls were covered in scarlet red wallpaper that was already peeling from years of clinging to the hollow wooden walls. The floors were puzzled over by brown and grey tiles, several being missing or cracked or shattered. The ceiling had more mold and stains on it than an ancient tree in the rain forest. The smell was terrible due to the other orphans never cleaning properly and the smell of rotten eggs and urine was always around us. We were stuffed into any room that had even a crumb of space, sleeping on rotten old mattresses that were donated who knows when, some not even fitting on the rusted metal bed frames that cradled them...but that's not even the worst part...

 

The worst part was the other kids I had to stay with. I don't think some of them had a single good bone in their bodies. The oldest kid was always the one in charge. And that was Markiato. He was 13, never was considered for adoption, not once because of what a jerk he was to everyone. He had filthy blond hair that I don't think was ever washed. He carried around an old baseball bat that he used to install fear in everyone. He was tanned or should I rather say he was sun burned with dark brown eyes that dug out your soul and filled you with terror whenever he glared at you. Not to mention he was basically a giant, tallest kid in the orphanage and leader of the "B.O.B", that stood for "Bad Orphan Boys". Creative, I know. They were a group of boys that followed him around like he was a fricking king. They did whatever he said and beat up anyone they didn't like. I guess they must have really hated me, because ever since I got there, I had been their punching bag. And you would have thought that the caretakers of the orphanage would have done something about this. Maybe they could have stopped the older kids from beating the crap out of us but no. Whenever someone went to go complain about getting hurt or their stuff being taken away, the care takers would just shove them away and told them to go play or that it was just part of growing up. Yeah, it’s part of growing up to have someone hit you in the stomach with a bat and then beat you as you fall to the ground...

 

...the only time we were somewhat safe was when they sent us to school...

 

...but even that place had its list of problems and horrors...

 

...if it wasn't the kids at the orphanage beating us up...

 

...it would be the kids at school...

 

But there was a time when my life at that hell hole was actually good. I was 9 years old when I first really experienced happiness. The day was like any other day, winter was coming to an end, the snow had started to melt some time ago and the weather was still extremely cold. The paper thin blankets that had more holes than Swiss cheese and smelled worse than a public bathroom at a train station was the only source of warmth we got.

I was sitting on the bench by the window between two bare and leafless bushes, starring down at the dead and dusty ground, hugging my faded lavender sweater tightly to keep warm. It's not that I ever minded the cold, but it helped me feel less lonely somehow. The sound of the creaking gate that stood at the front of the orphanage was heard and the other kids rushed towards it. This could only mean one of two things...new arrivals had come or someone was coming to adopt. It wasn't odd that we got new kids arriving a few times a week; it was the fact that there were so little of us leaving this horrible place. I guessed nobody really wanted kids these days. Sighing, I got up from my seat and headed to the gate with the others to see what was going on. I had already given up hope of getting adopted. Too many times had families come looking for a child and they would just look me over. Maybe there was something wrong with me...I really was unwanted...even around the orphanage everyone called me "Lonely Lilly"...cause nobody wanted to come near me and I was always seen sitting by myself...

 

As I reached the gate, the other kids had started heading back to the playground already, clearly disappointed. I guess that meant that no one was here to adopt. I saw the two boys that had arrived. The tall one had brown chestnut hair and sweet blue eyes. He wore a yellow button-up shirt with a blue pullover, plain black jeans and a pair of white sneakers. The smaller boy that stood beside him had raven black long messy hair and soft grey eyes. He wore a green button-up shirt, grey shorts and a pair of purple trainers with knee high socks. They didn't talk to anyone as one of the caretakers led them into the building to show them around and assign them a room. I headed back to the lonely little bench by the window, thinking of the two boys that had arrived. They were most likely brothers considering they both arrived at together and looked, well a little alike I guess. Were they abandoned like me or did their parents pass away? Or did their parents do something bad and now they have to stay here? Why did I even care? Not like it really mattered to me what the story was with each kid that came and went from this place. Most of the time, the others left me alone and that was just fine with me. I didn't need anyone and didn't want anyone...I was fine with being alone...because that's all I would ever be.

 

A few hours passed and I was still sitting in my usually place when Markiato and his gang of mindless idiots came to pester me. Markiato stood in front of the others, holding that stupid bat under his right arm as he sneered down at me, making me shudder.

 

"Well, well...if it isn't little lonely Lilly."

 

He said with a chuckle, I hugged myself defensively, not wanting to aggravate him in case he tried to smash my skull in with his wooded beating stick.

 

"What do you want Markiato?"

 

I stuttered as I stared down at the ground, not wanting to make eye contact with the mammoth in front of me.

 

"Just wanted to spend a little time with my favourite little loser..."

 

He kept grinning as he reached out to lift my chin, making me look right into those horrible eyes. I quickly hit his hand away and got up keeping my gaze away from the rest of the boys.

 

"Just go away Markiato..."

 

I spoke softly as I turned to quickly leave but found myself surrounded by the rest of his menacing gang. Looking around as fear started to build inside me as I could find no way out of the circle of boys surrounding me. Each one having a nasty smile on their unwashed faces. Markiato slowly approached me again, grabbing hold of my jersey collar and pulled me towards him. The smell of onion rings and fish leaked from his mouth as he smirked at me, his yellow teeth fitting precisely in the frame of his lips. Instantly I began to feel sick.

 

"Now why would I go away? We're just having some fun right? Besides you seemed so lonely sitting here all by yourself."

 

Snickering as he spoke, I tried to pull free from his iron grip but it was no use. He saw me struggle and the impending fear that was growing within me as I began to tremble. Shoving me hard onto the cold hard ground and dirtying my jersey in the process. My eyes filled with tears of pain and fear as I lifted myself up with my arms, shaking as I stared at the ground watching the shadows of the boys around me. Twirling the bat in his hand, I could see him looking around at the other boys...

 

"You know fellas...maybe we should put her out of her misery? Send her back to where she came from..."

 

He slowly circled me, still twirling the bat mockingly before reaching down, his empty crusty hand grabbing my hair and pulling me up. Letting out a cry of pain, I grabbed his wrist, trying to ease the sudden burst of pain on my scalp.

 

"Pl-please st-stop!"

 

I yelled at him before he threw me to the ground again, landing face first in the dirt and scrapping my cheek. I weakly tried to hold myself up again, my hair falling over my face as a tear ran down my cheek, listening to the other kids laughing and mock me...I wanted to die right there and then...I just couldn't take it anymore...I wanted it all to stop...I wanted it all to just...go...away...

 

Just as Markiato raised the bat over his head to strike me, I knew nobody would come help me...nobody cared about me...I closed my eyes...waiting for the pain to come...when...

 

..."Leave her alone!"...

 

I heard someone calling from a distance followed by the sound of someone running towards us. Slowly I opened my eyes, glancing up ever so slightly at who was coming. And I was astounded to see that the boy who had arrived a few hours ago, sprinting towards me with his brother not far behind him. Markiato and the other boys turned towards him as he stopped just a few feet in front of the circle of boys. The blond beast started chuckling,

 

"Well, well, what do we have here? Prince charming coming to save his pathetic excuse of a princess?"

 

The boys began to laugh as I just looked back down at the ground.

 

"I said leave her alone. Go back to playing king of the idiots you freak."

 

The yellow shirted boy said as he took another step forward, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The others went silent, their expressions becoming shocked. What was he doing? Did he want to get himself killed? Markiato tightened the grip on his bat.

 

"What did you just call me runt?" he growled through his teeth.

 

The kid didn't even flinch or look scared of the towering bully in front of him.

 

"I called you a big fat freak..."

 

…and with that said, he slammed his fist into Markiato's stomach, causing the taller boy to fall over like an old oak tree being cut down. And dropping the baseball bat that he held in the process. The boys standing around me looked at the kid slightly frighten as he had just taken down their so called mighty leader. Quickly they ran away like a flock of pigeons flying away after being chase by a small child, leaving behind their fallen comrade.

 

The boy slowly approached me; I kept my gaze down, not really knowing what to do...

 

..."Hey are you ok?"...

 

...I looked up to see him kneeling in front of me, with his hand stretched out to me, offering to help me up. Still scared, I took his hand, not really knowing why I trusted this kid. He got up helping me up as I muttered softly, "I-I'm fine..." He noticed the scrape on my cheek, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped away the dirt surrounding the wound. I whimpered softly, pulling back slightly at the contact of the fabric on my raw skin.

 

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not going to hurt you."

 

He said in a soft spoken voice as he smiled at me. He reached out a second time and this time I didn't pull away, letting him clean my cheek...

 

"Th-thank you...for saving me...even though you didn't have to..." I spoke shyly as I kept my gaze away from his.

 

"It's ok. I just don't like seeing people pick on those weaker than themselves."

 

He said with a smile. Blushing at the comment, I looked up, glaring at him slightly, "Are you saying I'm weak?"

 

He chuckled and kept smiling that stupid smile,

 

"No. I'm just saying I don't like seeing people getting bullied. Especially if it's a cute girl."

 

I could have sworn I saw him blush too, making me giggle for a bit before going silent again, realizing his hand was still on my cheek. He must have noticed this too as he quickly retracted his hand away from my face. It felt weird...to have someone care about you...it felt good...almost enough to make me smile...

 

..."So what's your name?" he asked...

 

...not many of the other kids in the orphanage really knew my name...besides those who picked on me...

 

..."Um...I'm L-Lillian..." I answered shyly...

 

"Lillian? That's a pretty name."

 

The small boy that stood behind his brother answered with a sweet smile,

 

"I'm Mokuba and this is my big brother Seto. Hey wanna be friends with us? My big brother can keep you safe from the kids who bully you..."

 

...friends...

 

...nobody had ever wanted to be friends with me...let alone wants be around me...

 

Before I could even answer him, Mokuba grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the red and yellow swing set, Seto following close behind us. We spent the afternoon playing together and many days after that. We became close, Seto taught me how to play chess, while Mokuba taught me how to be a kid. I was never kid actually. I mostly spent my days lost in thought instead of playing. I had friends for the first time in my petty little life and for the first time I could actually truly smile and laugh. They had welcomed me into their lives without a second thought and they accepted me for who I was and they cared about me, and soon I came to care about them just the same.

 

For the first time in a very long time I felt something warm with in my heart...I felt...happy in some way...I felt like maybe...just maybe there was hope for me. That maybe I wasn't meant to be alone forever. Mokuba and Seto had given me something much more than just their friendship...they had given me hope, hope that I had long since been forgotten. Hope that my life would become better; a hope that someday I would get adopted and would find a family that loved me and that would take care of me.

#yugioh #yugi mutou #yami yugi #seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #ocs #fantasy

[roguelioness]

Ok, I know it’s probably spoilery but I’d love to know a little of Alystimeric reunion.

Also DA Uprooted please?

Thank you for the ask viking! ♥

Post ShB, Alyzen - worn of body and mind and spirit - goes to Ishgard, straight to the Borel mansion, and essentially flings herself into Aymeric's arms because she needs to be held.

Aymeric sees the depth of her pain and contacts Estinien, who immediately returns, and the two of them help her reconcile with the many new scars she's obtained.

(snippet below the cut)

It is below freezing when she lands in Ishgard’s aetheryte plaza, fat snowflakes falling with a decided urgency from a pitch-colored sky. Every lantern is alight, their warm glow highlighting the way to the Pillars and the Brume, but there are very few people around who require their services. The handful who wander about ignore her entirely. With a patch over her scarred eye, and the hood of her coat pulled up, she blends in, her hunched up form unremarkable in the cold evening. 

Trudging through the muddy sludge of ice and dirt, she soon finds herself on the doorstep of Borel manor. Her coat is wet, her pants have a hole in them, and she’s forgotten her gloves; she’s not the type of person to be wandering around an area like the Pillars. Alyzen knows she must look a frightful mess, but she needs, needs to see him - needs to touch him and hold him, needs to be held. 

Selfish, perhaps, and yet she cannot bring herself to leave.

Her hand trembles violently, though not from the cold, as she lifts it to knock on the elegant door.

-----

Uprooted is a retelling of the dalish origin in DAO, except instead of leaving with Duncan, Mahariel flees into the wilds to search for Tamlen.

(snippet)

The pyre burns and burns and burns, long, lashing tongues of flame leaping up towards the sky. Smoke drifts upwards towards the Fade, thick and dull and grey in a way Tamlen is not. The clan is gathered around; several people are weeping, their loud and broken sobs grating on her ears. Ilearys hates them, abhors each and every one of the mourners, pours loathing towards the loudest of the group. She will never forgive them for this, she knows, can never forget how they let Tamlen go. How could they trust the word of a shemlen over one of their own? She knows Tamlen better than any of them - better, perhaps, than even his own mother who birthed him. He is the sun and she is his shadow; that is always how it has been, that is how it must be - if Tamlen does not exist neither does she. And if she’s alive, then so is he.

How do they not understand that?

Fenarel stands talls and stiff next to her, a silent statue of grief. He does not touch her, and for that she’s grateful; she thinks she’ll crumble if he does. On her right, Merrill watches the fire, tears slowly sliding down her tattooed cheeks.

Ilearys does not cry. She does not weep, she does not wail, her face and her mind and her body are all devoid of emotion. She is blissfully numb. She knows the clan is looking at her and whispering amongst themselves; they throw around words like shock and strain and trauma, but she pointedly ignores it all. As far as she’s concerned, this is a funeral to mourn her departure from the clan and nothing more. All it serves is to buy her time. She will not leave with this so-called Warden; she will take what is hers and slip into the night, she will find Tamlen, and then, if the Creators will it, she will find a way to cure them both.

#wip roundup #wip ask meme #ffxiv #dragon age #alystimeric #uprooted

[inhumanheresy]

When Tartaglia returns from Liyue, there is pain written in the creases on his face, hidden behind smile lines and the lingering crease in his brow. Yana does not know what happened there, her informants seemingly arriving back after Tartaglia has, but when she sees him, she stands and watches as he approaches, her head tilting back just a touch until he is close, his height incomparably tall even with her heels.

Whatever chill resides in her gaze softens only slightly for him, her youngest Harbinger, her weapon of war. His fire, his passion, his thirst for battle and bloodshed has made him invaluable to her. His power may not yet reside alongside the higher of the Harbingers, but there is no denying that he is deadly - and the Tsaritsa delights in what he can do. What his prowess will do in this war for peace.

"Tartaglia," she says as she reaches one hand up to gently touch his cheek, pressing one fingertip along a faint line beside the corner of his mouth. It is where his smile glows brightest - where his smile makes others underestimate him. "What happened?"

Tartaglia, Eleventh of Her Majesty’s Harbingers, soaks in the honor of Her touch as Her Majesty’s frigid fingertips caress a line of hoarfrost along his cheek, the delicate ice melting against his skin bare moments after Her fingers bless him with this mark of Her affection.

There are those that say the Tsaritsa has no love left for Her people, but he scoffs at the very notion. Even if Her heart is solid as that of a glacier, She still bestows touches like this, shows Her people that they are not forgotten, even if the love She embodies is now dedicated to the sorrow of love lost and the fury of love betrayed.

His breath, a touch more hydro-laden than the average human, crystallizes in the space between his mouth and Her wrist, the oppressive cryo aura of the archon ensuring that it is not even a moment after his exhale that water freezes and he feels snowflakes dissolve against his lips.

Each one hits like a spark of Jueyun chili pepper. What does it say about him that that is the first association he makes now?

But whatever proclivities he may have picked up during his latest deployment aside, he revels in the icy touch of Her Majesty and knows intrinsically, once again, that this is a Goddess worth following.

“My Tsaritsa, your plan has been executed, and Morax’s Gnosis handed over to La Signora and then, I trust, to Your own hands.”

The plume of rage that he feels should be of no surprise to Her Majesty; a recognition for one of Her other Harbingers despite his greater part in the play, the crackling anger at Morax’s complete disregard — these are emotions of love: for Her, for himself, for one he’d grown attached to despite his better judgement — and he knows that She feels them as he sinks to one knee before Her, slow and steady that Her hand may follow as She pleases, his face still lifted to Hers for She is, beyond doubt, his Tsaritsa, his Liege Lady, the Goddess that he will follow unto the gates of Celestia where he personally will take the honor of rending them asunder for Her.

“I trust that I have performed admirably in the role that you assigned me upon Liyue’s stage.” He blinks a slow blink, if it can even be called that in the way his eyelashes linger against his cheeks as he leans ever-so-slightly into the ice-cold of her fingertips, looking now up at Her from his place as Her weapon. “But I admit… after a year spent in subterfuge amongst their people, there is a small part of me that remains in Liyue despite the anchor of my heart sunk in the motherland.”

#|| a polar star in darkest depths ; ajax #svnsworn #|| svnsworn ; tsaritsa #|| t ; upon your return #//look. look. there is going to be So Much platonic/religious love and adoration and devotion here #I hope you're ready for a lot of symbolism and Fervent Dedication #no matter what ships may or will happen at any point in time #Tartaglia is one of the most loyal of her Harbingers and She can certainly tell the difference between the love he holds for others #versus the love he holds for Her #familial/romantic/platonic/etc

[believingispowerfulmagic]

The Christmas Waltz

Summary:  Regina Mills wanted to share the perfect dance at her Christmas wedding and so booked lessons with Robin Locksley. When her wedding plans fall through, will she find happiness and solace in the dance studio...and her rather attractive dance teacher? And will she prove to be exactly who Robin needs in his life as well? OQ AU

Chapter 1: Do You Hear a Waltz? 

FFN | AO3 | Wattpad

Excerpt: 

The music started soft and slow, an instrumental of a Christmas song. Fake snow drifted down toward the stage as the man clad in a red suit took the hand of a beautiful woman dressed in a red gown. He placed his hand on her waist while she rested hers on his shoulder. Their free hands were clasped as they started to glide across the stage, the music growing louder as they danced amongst the snowflakes.

As the music soared, the man twirled the woman as they crossed the stage. Her skirts billowed around her before they parted, back-to-back. They turned and faced each other again, grabbing hands while bringing their other arms down in graceful arcs. He pulled her back toward him before moving backwards, dragging her behind him as she bent one leg and kept the other straight.

It was breathtaking. And it would certainly give everyone at their wedding something to talk about until next Christmas, something her mother no doubt would love while Regina would get a chance to dance again.

She missed dancing.

"Regina?"

Closing her laptop, Regina looked up to find her assistant Tink standing in the door to her office. The petite blonde entered and handed her some paperwork. "This came over the fax for you regarding the McHatter account. And you have your lunch meeting in fifteen minutes."

Regina caught sight of the time and her heart skipped a bit. "Thank you for the reminder. I'll be back later and then we can tackle the McHatter account."

"Sounds good," Tink said. "So what is this meeting about?"

"Sidney and I are hopefully going to pick out a cake for our wedding today," she said, standing and grabbing her coat. "Wish us luck."

Tink crossed her fingers on both hands before asking: "Can you bring me a slice, please?"

Regina laughed as she picked up her bag. "Absolutely. You definitely deserve it. I don't know what I would do with you."

"Oh, I'm sure you would manage," Tink replied. She then smiled. "But I appreciate the compliment."

"It's well deserved," Regina assured her. She then took a deep breath. "I'll be back."

Tink wished her luck again before Regina headed down the hallway to the elevator. As she pressed the call button, she pulled out of her phone and sent a quick text to Sidney to make sure he was on his way as well. The elevator dinged as her phone buzzed and she stepped onto the elevator as she read Sidney's message assuring her he had just left the office. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad there were no unforeseen complications.

She stepped into the lobby and crossed to the door, ready to pick out her wedding cake. They only had three weeks left and everything needed to be perfect for their Christmas wedding. After all, it was the start of hers and Sidney's new life together. They certainly wanted to get off on the right foot.

Nothing could go wrong.

#once upon a time #outlaw queen #oq au #oq ff #christmas #the christmas waltz

[keepers-of-lost-light]

An excerpt from A Queen’s Lament

Sometime in the year 200

Memory is fickle.

As much as Guinevere knew she had memories of before she and her sister were placed in Tir Dan, she would never be able to recall them. 

Instead the first memory she would recall was standing in a frozen garden at the heart of The Winter Court. Eyes turned to the misty cavern ceiling that shimmered with stars dancing amongst the moonlight. The red berries of the hawthorn trees were stark against the fallen snow, and the water ran warm from the streams into the pond despite the chill. 

Guinevere curled her toes in the snow. The frosted grass poked through, tickling against her soles. Her breath left in clouds of smoke like a fire offering. She had her arms raised to the sky allowing snowflakes to kiss her skin. 

“Do you like it?” 

The quiet voice of Messorem chimed from the peristyle that led deeper into The Winter Court. 

Her friend. Her mentor. Her creator.

Guinevere slowly turned. She caught as many snowflakes as she could before bringing her attention to the midnight tiefling standing in the entryway. 

“I love it,” Guinevere said. 

Messorem was quiet on cat like legs as he stepped foward. His fluffy white hair curled around his sweeping horns as his lion-like tail flicked back and forth behind him. His white feathered wings began to settle as if he had just landed from a long flight. His starlight eyes glowed along with the dusting of freckles across his cheeks and shoulders. 

“I have visitors for you, Guin un bach,” Messorem announced. 

Guinevere cocked her head, and only then did she notice Messorem holding the hands of two individuals almost as young as she was. 

Two changelings, like herself, a boy and a girl, peeked out from behind Messorem’s legs. They both had snowy white hair similar to her own except theirs was much shorter. Dressed in simple sweaters and pants. The boy was the first to step out, his gray eyes meeting Guinevere’s before he took a small bow. 

His hand never left Messorem’s, not yet. 

Guinevere greeted him with a small curtsy, her chiffon dress glittering with snow that remained unmelted. Her gaze drifted over to the girl, who still hugged Messorem’s arm like a lifeline. Her soft violet eyes met Guinevere’s before she hid her face. 

“Guin,” Messorem started as he stepped into the snow with the changelings. “I want you to meet Tanwyn and Xina. They are going to assist you in establishing your court.” 

Messorem gently guided both of the young changelings forward. The girl went from clinging to him to grabbing at Tanwyn, who accepted his fate with a sigh. Guinevere stepped forward to meet them. 

“But before you start worrying about all that,” Messorem continued. “I want you all to enjoy this place for it is yours to call home.”

Guinevere nodded, focus still on the other two changelings in front of her. She leaned in to get Xina’s attention as Tanwyn poked at his sister to look up. Xina peeked out. Saw Guinevere leaning closer to them, and hid her face in Tanwyn’s shoulder again. 

“Xina,” Tanwyn whispered. “You’re being rude.” 

“She is just shy,” Guinevere answered. “It is quite alright.” 

Guinevere held out her hands to both of them. 

“Would you like to see the rest of the court with me?” 

Carefully, Tanwyn considered her. He nodded and took one of her hands. Xina looked up then, examining Guinevere’s other offered hand. She cautiously released her grip on Tanwyn and placed a trusting hand in Guinevere’s own.

Guinevere ran.

A gasp escaped Tanwyn and Xina yelped as they were yanked into a cackling sprint out of the garden. Guinevere’s laughter echoed through the hallowed halls as she raced down the corridors. It was almost contagious as Tanwyn chuckled quietly, and Xina could not help the smile threatening to crack through a mask of nerves. 

The thrill of the chase continued into their curiosities as they barged into every room they could find in this palace of ice. Antechambers. Dining halls. Drawing rooms. And rooms upon rooms of bed chambers for guests. 

Eventually they found the courtroom. 

Guinevere pushed against the doors, out of breath and struggling against the weight. She flipped to push with her back, looking to the other two. 

“A little help?” She chortled. 

They both nodded with an exhaled laugh. Xina pushed with her hands as Tanwyn pressed a shoulder into the doors. It cracked open, and the trio tumbled inside. Guinevere rolled over onto her elbows, pupils blown wide. 

An outstanding glacial cavern welcomed them with a dais opposite the doors and columns separating the peristyle from the main floor. Snow lilies and snow bells decorated the columns as frost touched wisteria hung down from the ceiling. 

The trio stood, brushing themselves off as they stepped further inside. Their distorted reflections shimmered along the walls as they crossed to the dias. Climbing the short stairs, they stared into three sets of glowing eyes reflecting in shadowy figures. 

Steely gray. Soft violet. Sky blue.

“This is it,” Tanwyn exhaled as he turned to face the room. “This is ours?”

“I like it,” Xina whispered. Guinevere’s attention jerked to the other girl at her first words all evening. “It feels like home already.” 

Xina gave Guinevere a smile as their hands found each other. They turned back to the room, joining Tanwyn to look over it. Guinevere took a deep breath.

“This is ours,” she reassured. “This is our home.” (An excerpt from the novella, A Queen's Lament, written circa. 2022)

#writing #writer #my writing #publishing #a queen's lament #keepers of lost light #dnd #dungeons and dragons #excerpt #excerpts #storytelling #storyteller #dnd inspiration #dungeons and dragons inspiration #fantasy #fantasy fiction #novella #original characters

[kikun]

@snowtombedstar asked ; ❛   revelation .   show  my  muse  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . // it’s not so much angst as it is, “do you think I’m fucking stupid? do you really think I’d believe that?” 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 

❝ So, you've seen through my ruse. Congratulations. Would you like a present? ❞ His line of sight meanders over the barely, legible piece of paper she holds in delicate hands. It outlines much of his wrongdoings that he'd denied from earlier, say, a few hours ago. Still, this doesn't dampen his mood or cause much trouble. It is not like her thoughts held any substance over this matter.

His eyes flick to a falling snowflake, landing amongst the fluff of snow beneath the two. Being intercepted by another person in Dragonspine had hardly been a possibility on his mind, but it seems Teyvat just loved to spring surprises on him. So much for his so-called private visit.

Plucking the strip of thin material, he crumples it until it might blend in with the snow-infested environment. ❝ It doesn't matter anymore. I've turned over a new leaf. You should embrace that fact instead. ❞ With a splayed palm, he dumps the paper heap into the canvas of white, letting the wind be its guide as it traverses over snowy plains.

❝ Besides, why does what I've done matter to you ? ❞

#snowtombedstar #( a ripple disrupts tranquillity ;; asks ) #he said snark or nothing #thank you for asking!

[searchingwardrobes]

CS Fic Rec Monday

and he called her love amongst the snowflakes by @shireness-says​ 

Summary: Being a princess is no guarantee of a perfect Christmas. Spending the next two days snowed in with her brother's hot bodyguard just might be, though.

This may be a Christmas fic, but this mutual pining + snowed in + modern day royalty fic is a treat anytime of year!

#cs fic rec monday #csfrm #and he called her love amongst the snowflakes #shireness-says #one of my fave writers

[mhysa-leesi]

𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝑅𝒾𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝐻𝑜𝑜𝒹

Pairing: Dark Alpha!Bucky Barnes 𝒳 (femme) Omega!Reader 🐺. 

Summary: “To keep your small village protected from would-be attackers, presented Omegas must be sacrificed to the mysterious Alpha in the woods.” 

Word Count: 3,514

TW‼: Non-Con, Dub-Con, Smut, Hunting/Stalking, A/B/O Themes, Forced Bonding, Loss of Virginity, Strong Language, and Mentions of Blood and Human Sacrifice. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼ 

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption--you and only you are. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION. 

A cold wind blew in from the north, making the trees rustle like living things. It was growing colder with every passing day as winter began its arrival. Yule had transformed the fiery hues of autumn twilight to sparkled, frosted mornings and bitter winds. You went to the window. A fine glimmer of glossy frost formed intricate swirls on the glass, as sparkling snow softened the outside world into one flurry. 

You looked on as the pale, cold light of winter moonrise illuminated your village as the townsfolk worked under the stars to prepare for the Winter Solstice. You couldn’t help but frown as you watched them place green garland on the fringes of rooftops, and light candles that led into the dark forest, in the shape of carved wolves. This time last winter, you were home with your family; sitting fireside as you and your younger siblings drank sweetened milk and almond honeyed toast. Life had been colorful, full of vibrant greens, warm reds, and soft dusky blues. Now, it was nothing but a black and white night of frost that crawled along the dark outline of barren trees and twig branches. Snowflakes swirled down gently in the ghostly moonlight, and iced shadows crept along the December ground. 

“(Y/N)?” a small voice called out from behind. 

You turned as Gervaise came to stand next to you, peering out at the snowfall that drifted against the window. Gervaise had been your closest friend since childhood, she had been a plump girl in her youth, but now she was the most beautiful woman in your village. She had long legs that complemented her slender figure, golden hair that shone under sunlight, and azure eyes as blue and clear as the sky itself. 

She shivered against the winter-cold that seeped into your bones as she neared the frosted windowpane, “Aren’t you cold?” she asked. 

You scoffed, “Warmer than I would be out there.” 

Truth be told, you were burning from the inside out. A sheen sweat had started to form between your breasts and all of your folds and creases. Gervaise scooted closer and you unthinkingly flinched away, her heat was rolling off of her in waves and the strong scent of her made you lightheaded as tangs of jasmine, rose, and orange blossom overwhelmed your senses. 

You moved away as you looked into the room you were being kept in. Women close in age all slept soundly with soft snores, their heated scents interlacing with one another to form a jumbled mess of musk, amber, bergamot, and warm sugar. It was a synchronous heat amongst the presented Omegas in preparations for the village’s annual sacrificial solstice to the White Wolf. 

Gervaise nudged your shoulder teasingly, “It won’t be so bad tomorrow, (Y/N),” she tried. 

You rolled your eyes, “We’re being sacrificed, Gervaise! How can it not be so bad?”

Her small smile fell as the weighted truth of your words settled on her shoulders, “I’m sorry… I was just trying to make light of it all.” 

“I know,” you sighed, “You can’t make light of this, there’s too much darkness.” 

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

You awoke hours later to the soft murmurs of falling tears as mothers dressed their daughters in traditional white hoods. White, the color of purity, innocence. You scoffed--the virgin’s color. Your own mother came to your bedside, a hood in hand and an expectant look in her eyes. You rubbed your cold feet together and reluctantly dressed. 

“It’s not as bad as it seems, my love,” she spoke as she combed your hair. 

You looked at the other Omegas in the room, most of whom you’ve grown up with. Idony, Meliora, and Sabine. You teared. You and your siblings used to play with Sabine as children. Idony taught you to weave dolls out of straw and vines. And you and Meliora would harvest wild strawberries together in early summer after long hours at the lake. The thought of never seeing either of them after today was heart-wrenching. 

Your mother placed the hood over your head and tucked away stray hairs behind your ears as she took one last, tearful, look at you. She placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and took your hands in hers, pressing a small vial against your palms. 

“Put this on once you’re away from the others,” she whispered against your hair, “It’ll hide your scent for a short time, then make your way across the stream, you’ll be safe there until the ceremony is over.” 

Before you could ask more, the village mayor entered and ordered you and the other Omegas out into the square. The ceremony had officially begun. 

Gervaise squeezed your hand as the mayor lit the great Yule log, the candles sculpted as white wolves. You looked around; Idony was pale in the face, Meliora shed silent tears as she held her hands in prayer, and Sabine’s chest rose and fell in shallow, frightened breaths. You held the vial tight in your hand as you stood stoic; though your pounding heart told another story. 

The bells of the church began to toll as midnight quickly approached. The first toll the mayor led you all down the candlelit path that led into the mouth of the forest, the second toll you and the other Omegas were left alone as the full moon shone down on you from above, the third toll was followed by an echoed howl and the beats of your feet as you all ran through the thicket. 

You ran and ran until it was only you, the full moon, and the trees. You stopped to rest against a frosted tree, your lungs burned with biting ice as you panted; your breaths coming out as vapored clouds that wisped around your head. You quickly took the vial and rubbed the liquid over your scent glands. The synthetic scent of cracked pepper, spiced ginger, decayed pear, and rotting leaves all toiled together to mask your natural, sweet and warm odor. You took a moment to calm your beating heart and collect your thoughts before bolting through the treeline. You needed to find Gervaise before the perfume wore off. 

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

Bucky watched from the shadows as he tracked a pretty, golden-haired Omega. Her scent wasn’t unpleasant, but it didn’t ignite a fire deep within his groin, either. He followed the floral scent trail of this next best woman as she wandered aimlessly through the dense grove of pine. The woman’s face was rosy and tear-stained as the cold bit her cheeks and nose. It was pathetic, really. How she sniffled and hiccupped as she held herself against the winter winds or when she tripped and slipped over iced snowdrifts. Bucky was about to make his move when a sweet scent, carried on an icy breeze, caught his attention. The blood in his veins burst into flames as a deep desire awoke in him. Primal lust took over as he abandoned his former prey to hunt for the next. He bounded through the woods, ducking under long branches, and leaping across overgrown oak roots. It was the wildness of it that sent Bucky into a feral frenzy, in all of his years protecting this paltry village, he’d never scented anything as sweet and enthralling as this. Spun sugar, vanilla bean, patchouli, and white pumpkin with caramel glaze. His teeth ached as he took in the sweetness of your scent. 

When Bucky finally found you, you were breathless and flushed with heat. Your hand on your stomach as a wave of tightness in your belly coiled and coiled. He scented the air, then. Groaning as he caught wind of your musky-sweet tang. The front of his buckskin breeches tightened uncomfortably as his rut took hold of his body. He wanted you, so he’d have you. 

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

You whimpered as your cramps inflamed your insides. You were on fire, despite the bitter winter cold. You shed your wolf pelt that hung over your shoulders and loosened the front laces of your bodice, as you slumped against the nearest tree and focused on slowing your racing heart. The faster you calmed down, the faster you’d be able to find Gervaise and get across that damned stream to safety. 

Just as your heart began to slow, a heady scent brought on iced winds set it back into panicked motion. An amber woody fragrance, with nutmeg, vanilla, and sandalwood ensnared your forebrain. You were frozen, scared like a hunted doe as you took in the masculine scent that seemed to scream “Alpha”. 

Bucky watched as you looked around, trying to pinpoint his hiding spot. His heart skipped a beat in excitement as you took off into the thicket, leaving your pelt behind on the snowy ground. He chased you, then. Too focused on the hunt to worry about cornering you, too focused on you. He’d chase you down until you fainted from exhaustion if he had to. 

You were faster than he expected, more agile and hellbent on escaping him than you had appeared to be. He felt an odd sense of pride as he watched you nimbly dodge and duck under and over every branch and uprooted oak that came into your way. But Bucky had the advantage, this was his territory, not yours. He knew his hunting grounds, not you. So when you came to a skidded stop at a broken bridge, he wasn’t the least bit surprised. But what did surprise him was the little snarl that left you before you broke away from him once more. 

You ran and ran until your feet were numb with cold and your lungs frosted over with every breath you took. He was close, too close, and you were forced to abandon the plan on crossing the stream to safety. Gods--you didn’t even know where you were anymore. You could be going in circles and you’d be none the wiser, everything looked the same in this untouched part of the wood. You berated yourself for straying from the path, now you were lost, alone, and being hunted. You began to cry as you thought of your fate, you didn’t want to be sacrificed, you just wanted to go home back to your family. Back to your life. 

You were ready to give up, your feet were tired, legs weakened, and your chest burned from the cold. You fell to your knees and looked up to the full moon, exhaustion taking over your thoughts. You were desperate and didn’t have the energy to be surprised at yourself when you began to pray to the moon above. 

“Gods above… Please, please, let me live and I’ll devote myself to you. My heart, mind, soul, and body, please,” you prayed. 

Just as you were about to laugh at yourself for your foolishness, a flickering candlelight in the nearby distance caught your eye. You mindlessly followed the light that pierced through the dense darkness of night, like a moth to a flame. As you got closer, you saw the lantern-light belonged to a small cottage fringed with winterberries and garland. You were uplifted as you believed the gods had answered your prayer. Without a second thought, your feet began to move on their own through the snow as you raced toward the home. You knocked once, then twice, then thrice. When there was no answer, you apologized to whatever being had heard you pray, before turning the brass doorknob and welcoming yourself inside. 

The warmth of a crackling fire embraced you posthaste as you closed the door behind you. You made your way to the fireplace, rubbing your hands over the flame as you warmed yourself. The house was eerily silent as you looked around. You saw the carved candles from your village on the mantelpiece, vases of starry blue, pale pink, and white glory of the snow, and bright yellow winter jasmine were placed on the tabletops, and garland with holly flowers was wrapped around the railing of a small staircase that led upstairs. You made your way up the stairs as curiosity led you on. You called out for the owner of the home once again as you reached the top, but to no avail; the house was empty. 

You crept along the creaking floorboards into a small room, illuminated by a single lantern with frosted glass windows. You explored the room. There was a bed, with an oak headboard, and thick, grey, and brown wolf and bear pelts. You sat down on the edge of the bed with a soft bounce as you rested your tired feet. Ahead of you was a wooden chest with intricate images of Yule logs, goats, and boars. Something deep within your gut urges you to go to it, to open it, and look upon its secrets; but the feeling made you uneasy, it made you afraid of what you'd find. 

But you knew better than to ignore your gut, so you went to it, opened it, and looked upon its secrets. You nearly screamed as you pulled forth white hood, after white hood, after white hood. Your hands shook as you emptied the chest, white hoods covered the ground like the snow outside. There were more hoods than you could count, most of them much older than you. You sobbed as you slammed the chest shut, too focused on the white hoods before you to notice the slithering notes of amber, nutmeg, vanilla, and sandalwood that now threatened to constrict, and swallow you whole. 

Your body sensed him before your mind did, your hairs stood on end, and your core tightened with primal, animalistic want. You only recognized his imposing presence after it was too late. Your throat dried as you slowly turned around to face the Alpha from the woods. He stood in the doorway, shirtless and steaming, as his heat fought against the cold of winter. To say he was big, would be an understatement. He was wordless as he strode toward you with an urgency driven by desire. You shuffled away, sobbing as he quickly crawled atop of you, trapping you beneath him. You fought against him, slapping and scratching his chest and face as he buried his face in your neck. Deeply inhaling your sickly sweet scent. 

“I wonder if you taste as sweet as you smell, ‘Mega,” he said as he nipped the lobe of your ear. 

Your heart dropped as he ripped at your bodice like an animal, tossing the ruined fabric aside as he bared your breasts to the air. The Alpha brushed his lips against your neck, your jaw, and mouth as he tasted you. You had never been kissed before, the feeling of it all was foreign as you felt his tongue explore your mouth. You squirmed as he palmed your breast, his thumb flicking and pinching over your sensitive nipple. Bucky let out a low snarl of disapproval as you tried to wriggle away from him, and when you ignored his warning, he bit down on your nipple. You yelped and beat against his back, clawing and punching as you flailed and thrashed. In your struggle you managed to slip out from underneath his body. Then, it was a desperate fight of him dragging you by your ankles, and you kicking wildly and blindly. With luck you landed a strong kick to his face that bloodied his nose. You ran, then. Practically flying down the flight of stairs as you made a beeline for the front door--to your freedom. You felt the cold snow on your toes as one foot met the icy ground, but the other foot was caught. 

You fell on your face as Bucky dragged you back into his house. Blood stained his face and a dangerous fire was reflected in his blue eyes. He took you by your neck and forced you down onto the staircase, entrapping you under his weight. Your legs kicked out as he forced himself between your thighs, he snarled again, keeping a tight grip on the back of your neck. He ripped away the remaining pieces of your clothes, ridding you of the white garments, of your innocence, your purity.

He lifted your hips and placed a strong hand on your back, forcing you into an arch. You yipped as you felt a wet warmth lick up your sex. You tried to curl away, but his grip on you was strong and firm. A heat bloomed within your gut as Bucky dipped his tongue between your wet folds, fucking you with his hot tongue. Your brain hazed over as he stroked and rubbed your sweet spot of concentrated pleasure with his thumb. He was devouring you, and you felt your resolve melt away with every delicious flick and swipe of his tongue. You moaned and allowed yourself to arch into his mouth, desperately seeking more pleasure. You ground your cunt on his face and moaned at the feeling of him tightly gripping your hips as he gave you what you wanted--needed. 

You clawed at the stairs beneath you as your voice grew shrill, the coil in your belly was beginning to unravel with every lick. Bucky felt you stiffen as he brought you to the edge of your pleasure, he sank his tongue deep inside you until he finally felt you shudder hard against him. You cried out as you came on his tongue, pure white fire ignited in your veins, consuming your thoughts, and burning away any fight you had left. The aftershocks of your pleasure left you shaking and wanting. 

Without warning, Bucky buried his thick length in you with one hard stroke; mercilessly tearing through your untouched barrier. For a moment there was only a burning pain as he forced himself deeper. He pulled out a few inches, and then slammed back into you. Again and again. The Alpha above you howled with pleasure as he rutted into you hard and fast. You looked over your shoulder and moaned as you watched his narrow hips thrust against you. His eyes met yours and he bared his teeth as he indulged in his animalistic pleasure. With your mouth agape you felt another spark of pleasure ignite within you, you cried out for him, then, begging him to stoke the fire that threatened to burn, to consume you. 

Your scents bled together, creating the beginning knot of your bond; his sandalwood and vanilla notes, duetting your patchouli and caramel glaze in perfect harmony. You whined as he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and clenching. He flipped you onto your back, spreading your weak legs wide as he entered you once more. He reached places that had you blaspheming as you chanted his title like a prayer. 

Alpha, Alpha, Alpha… 

He added fuel to your evergrowing fire as he reached down to your bundle of nerves, rubbing firm circles as he fucked into your wet cunt. He kissed you again, your lips following his lead as he claimed your mouth with his tongue. You moaned as you tasted yourself on him. His lips trailed down your jaw, peppering wet kisses down your body until he reached the scent gland on your neck. He scented you, then. A low growl left his chest as the base of his cock swelled, your pussy constricting in turn. Your howling moans clashed in dissonance as he pushed you over the edge into white-hot pleasure. Bucky thrusted into you, harder, faster, as his pleasure grew and grew until it finally exploded. As his warmth flooded you another sensation sent your senses into hyperdrive--his teeth sinking into your neck. Your arms and legs instinctively wrapped around him as he bonded you, marking you as his. 

You murmured incoherently as your bodies locked together, you were so full of him that you could focus on nothing, but the feel of him locked inside you. Your head lolled to the side as your exhaustion set in, your bones felt heavy as sleep lulled you. You were vaguely aware of the man atop of you, too drunk on mated pleasure to fully acknowledge how his eyes began to once again devour your body. 

He kissed your wound, breathing you in as he did, “What’s your name, Omega?”

“(Y/N),” you rasped. 

“Bucky,” 

As you sobered, the weight of your situation became clearer. All of those white hoods, all of those Omegas that never returned home… Your breathing picked up as panic sparked like lightning in your veins. You shoved on Bucky’s chest as you started to wiggle out from him, tugging on his knot. He snarled and snapped at you and you flinched as unshed tears glossed your eyes. 

“Don’t hurt me, please,” you whimpered, “Please, I–I don’t want to die.” 

“I’m not going to kill you, I’m going to keep you,” 

Keep you? You trembled, “What about all of the other Omegas? What happened to them?” 

He cupped your face and traced the bridge of your nose, then the cupid’s bow of your lips, “Them I killed,” he whispered with a ghost of a smile. 

#dark bucky x you #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky smut #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky barnes #dark!fic #dark!mcu #dark!marvel #alpha!bucky #alpha!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader

[ijustwant2write]

His Protector-Fred Weasley x Reader

(GIF credit to @winter-and-zombies​)

Masterlist

Prompts Lists

Summary: At the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred is saved by (Y/N), a close friend of the twins. Both have always had feelings for the other, and in true cliche fashion, neither have admitted this. Years after the battle (where things are somewhat back to normal), the twins have remained friends with her, but it’s only at a Weasley family party does (Y/N) finally say something.

Characters: Fred Weasley x Reader, George Weasley x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mentions of death, PTSD, injuries, blood, lots of fluff

(A/N: This is quite long! And also the first time I’ve written for Harry Potter, blame it on my FYP on Tik Tok)

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There were no dry eyes from anyone gathered in the Great Hall. It was full of students, resting from the battle and treating injuries, or mourning over friends who didn't make it. Some were huddled together as they sobbed, others keeping to themselves as they tried to stop the horrifying images keep playing in their minds.

The Weasley’s were gathered around Fred, who was laid out on a makeshift stretcher, tears streaming down their faces as they waited for some sign of him waking up. He had dried blood on his face and partly in his hair. When he was first carried in, their immediate thoughts had been he was dead, because he seemed so lifeless. They were extremely grateful when they realised he was breathing, and he had a heartbeat.

Molly stroked back her son’s hair, trying to calm herself down as to not alarm her children. Never in her life did she think they would have to go through something like this, especially at such a young age. These were her babies, and she was going to protect them with her life like any mother would. George sat beside Fred opposite his mum, praying that his brother's eyes would soon open. Although it had been confirmed that he would be alright, albeit with a few injuries, seeing him lying there made it feel like he wasn’t with them anymore. Suddenly, Fred began to stir, scrunching up his eyes and moaning as he felt the pain throbbing through his body.

“How you feeling Freddie?” George quickly asked as the family got closer.

Fred mumbled something, but no one could understand. 

“What was that Fred?” Molly quietly said.

“(Y/N)...”

“Who? Who are you talking about?” Molly was sure she had heard the name before, perhaps when the boys were still at school. 

“(Y/N), where is she?” Fred moaned.

“I don’t know Freddie.” George replied.“I haven’t seen her since you were brought in.”

“Is..is sh-sh-she a-alive?” Fred was still weak, struggling to speak.

“Fred, please, just rest for now.” Molly begged, not wanting to see him in pain any longer.

“Sh-she’s d-dead?”

As the family struggled to keep Fred still and stop him from panicking, Ginny backed away, knowing the only way Fred would settle was if she found (Y/N). When Fred was carried in, (Y/N) had also been brought him right behind him, but they were separated. She was taken off towards her friends, and in the heat of the moment, Ginny hadn’t questioned if she was alright, making her feel awful.

Although (Y/N) had been close to the twins, she hadn’t been as mischievous as them, not wanting multiple detentions or to get in any trouble as much as they did. It was a surprising friendship between them, especially when (Y/N) was so nice to Ginny, despite the age difference; she was always surprised that the boys never invited her round to their home during the holidays. Because she saw how Fred would sneak glances at the girl, always rolling her eyes at how obvious he was being with his feelings, yet neither one did anything about it. 

Ginny ignored the calls from her dad when she set off in the hall to find (Y/N), bombarding her peers with questions, desperate to find her as quickly as possible. Luckily amongst everyone, she spotted (Y/N)’s friends huddled on the floor, holding onto the unconscious girl’s hands. Ginny startled them as she rushed over.

“Is she...” Ginny started.

“She’s alive. But she’s weak.” one of her friends sniffled.

“We need to move (Y/N).” Ginny demanded.

“What?” 

“She needs to be beside Fred.”

“Why?”

“She just does! Come on, help me move her. Please!”

The girls glanced between each other, and they knew Ginny wouldn’t be requesting such a thing for no reason. They struggled to navigate her body on the stretcher through the people, Ginny going ahead and commanding that they move out of the way. All eyes were on (Y/N), wondering why they were moving her. Ginny gently ushered George and her father out of the way, the men helping lay (Y/N) down on the floor. Fred also watched, slowly turning his head to look at her, expecting to see her beautiful eyes staring back. But when he saw they were shut, he panicked. He shakily reached out for her hand, struggling to find it as they were crossed over on her stomach. George took on her hands, placing it in Fred’s, smiling at the size difference.

Molly and Arthur looked at each other, wondering why this girl was so special to Fred and also why they hadn’t been told much about her.

“This is (Y/N). She saved Fred’s life.” Ginny explained to her parents."She's alive Fred."

Fred didn't reply, still staring at her and grasping onto her hand. His mind flashed back to seeing her save him, hearing how angry and upset she was as she shouted out her spell, somehow defending him from his death and saving herself. He had blacked out before he could see if she was safe. Although he heard Ginny, it didn't make him feel any better. He just wanted to see her eyes open. That was it.

"(Y/N)." he tried to raise his voice, but his throat was so hoarse that it came out as a whisper. He tried shaking her hand slightly, and again, he was too weak to even do that.

George held (Y/N)'s other hand, trying to help his brother wake up their friend. He too wanted her to wake up, and not just for his brother's sake. Her eyes fluttered open, then quickly shut again. Instinctively she was going to rub her eyes until she realised her hands were preoccupied.

"What's happening?" she breathed out, looking around at the Weasley family.

"You're safe dear." Molly reassured her.

"You're alive." Fred smiled, relief flooding through him.

(Y/N) only realised it was Fred talking beside her, breathlessly laughing as her head lulled to the side. There he was, alive just as she was.

"Fred? Oh my...Y-you're here."

"All thanks to you." George smiled, squeezing her hand.

"I'm so..." she gulped before continuing."I'm so happy you're both safe."

"Please don't do that again." Fred begged.

"Do what?"

"Put yourself in danger to save me."

"Don't be stupid Freddie. You can thank me later."

"Let me guess...lots and lots of chocolates."

"Exactly."

                                         *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) yawned as she packed up her things from work, tired after another long week. She passed co-workers, waving goodbye and smiling as she left the building. As she put on her hat, she looked up at the sky, smiling at the sight of snow falling. It was turning dark, and seeing the snowflakes illuminated by the street lights made the street she walked down everyday look beautiful. (Y/N) took her first few steps towards her route home, suddenly stopping for an unknown reason. Something was pulling her in the other direction, she wanted to take a different path today.

Following her instincts, she walked in the opposite direction, hypnotised by the weather around her. Once she reached the end of the street, she looked up at the sign post, and the only part of it not covered in snow was the one that said 'Diagon Alley'. She hadn't been down there for so long, she hadn't seen two certain men for so long.

Why was she headed there? And of all the times to go, why now? She hadn't seen the twins for months, not because she didn't want to, but because she was so busy, as were they. Continuing her walk, she thought back to how often they would spend time together, especially after what happened to Hogwarts. She needed solidarity, she needed to be reminded that Fred was still there, that she didn't dream saving him, it had to be real. (Y/N) would regularly visit them, or vice versa, trying to act like everything was normal and that they weren't effected by anything that had happened.

The shops were closed, she could see the owners locking up, beginning to tidy everything away. Lights were dim, signs now said 'closed' and she was one of the few people left in the street after a busy day of shopping. As (Y/N) approached 'Weasleys Wizard Wheezes', she grew nervous, wondering if this really was a good idea. She hadn't seen them for all this time and now she was suddenly turning up on their shop doorstep? Was it rude? Was she being stupid in thinking that they would be totally fine seeing her after a working day?

Mustering up as much courage as she could, (Y/N) forced herself to the front door, seeing that no last minute customers were left. She tried opening the door, luckily it was open, and let herself in.

"Sorry, we're closed!" a voice shouted out.

"Even for me?" she cheekily called back, giggling when a confused George poked his head around a pile of boxes.

He grinned, practically running towards (Y/N) with his arms open wide."Where have you been little miss?"

"I'm sorry, I know this is a random visit but...I don't know, I just thought of coming to see you and Freddie."

"You're welcome here any time of any day. You know that."

They pulled apart, still smiling."Thanks, I just feel bad that I've not made much effort."

"Hey, we're all busy now. Don't worry about it. I'll go get Fred, he's going to love this!"

George was ecstatic as he dashed off to find his brother. All of them were to blame for not catching up more often than they used to, and he had seen how it effected Fred. They had all been each others support system after the battle, but it was clear that Fred and (Y/N) hugged a little tighter than they used to, looked into each others eyes longer, and smiled as much as possible when together. George had always wanted to set them up (he would have preferred involving pranks somehow) and that old itch was back. These two were hopeless with their feelings for one another, he just had to give them a little push in the right direction...into each others arms.

"Freddie!" George exclaimed, laughing when his brother almost dropped a box out of fright.

"What?" Fred sighed as he recovered, placing the box on the floor. He just wanted to get the stock out for the next morning and go home.

"Come see who has paid us a visit."

George said no more, going back to the shop floor, leaving Fred rolling his eyes as he followed. He rolled up his shirt sleeves as they slid down his arms, not paying much attention to his surroundings. So when he looked up and he saw her, his mouth dropped open, shocked to see (Y/N) standing there.

"Would you just get over here and hug me?" (Y/N) joked, though not as boldly as she used to.

Fred just laughed as he did what she said, reaching down to wrap his long arms around her. She had miss how he held her, how tightly he clung onto her, as if it were their last hug ever. George just stood there, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for them to finish.

"What are you doing here?" Fred asked.

"Just wanted to see you both." (Y/N) simply stated.

"Well I'm glad you did."

"How about we go for some drinks? It is the end of the week after all." George suggested.

(Y/N) nodded."Yeah, I'm up for that."

"Well then, let's get packed up Freddie."

(Y/N) offered to help, but the twins refused. They came in and out of the stock room, being as quick as they could. (Y/N) took the opportunity to walk around, see what items they were selling. There were some new products, but most were older classics. She reminisced over all the times the boys used pranks such as the ones in the shop, and how they could sometimes get a lighter punishment, just because everyone loved them. She took part in a few schemes here and there, but only the harmless ones, the ones that would only land her in detention if they got caught.

She came to a stand that held numerous love potions. She smiled as she remembered making Amortentia in her lessons. That had been an awkward class. No one wanted to be picked on and asked what theirs smelt like, not in front of their peers. (Y/N) knew who's hers smelt like as soon as the lid of the bottle popped off.

"No luck in the love department then?" George smirked as he put on his coat.

"Hm?" (Y/N) hadn't been paying attention, thinking back on old times.

"Still not found 'the one'?"

"Oh, no, I don't have time for any of that."

"Well, hopefully Mr Right just stumbles into your life." George was growing more excited by the second.

"Yeah, hopefully."

"Right, ready to go?" Fred appeared.

"Yes-Oh!" George startled them."Freddie, I just had a great idea."

"Oh here we go." (Y/N) joked.

"(Y/N) should come home with us, to the Burrow, for mum's party!"

"A party? Why is your mum throwing a party?"

"Dad got a little bonus at work, mum thinks it's something to celebrate. And it's an excuse for her to get the whole family back together."

"That is an amazing idea actually." Fred beamed.

"I can't impose on something like that. Especially since it's a family thing."

"Nonsense." the twins said in unison.

"Are you sure? I mean, I haven't seen your family for so long."

"Mum would love it." Fred reassured her.

"OK then!" (Y/N) grinned."I've always loved a Weasley party."

"That's settled then," George opened the door,"we'll discuss the details over those drinks that are waiting for us."

                                       *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Smoothing down her dress once again, (Y/N) checked her tights for any holes or ladders. She had planned her outfit a week before the party, changing her mind countless times before she finally decided on what she wanted to wear. All morning, her heart had been racing, stomach twisting into knots as nerves got the better of her. Why was she so nervous? She had met the Weasley’s many times, she even stayed the Burrow!

There was a knock at the door, meaning the boys were here to pick her up. Sighing, she checked herself one last time in the mirror before going to answer the door. As she opened it, she noticed it was only Fred standing there, no sign of George.

"Hi, where's George?" she asked as she let Fred inside the flat. She took a note of the smart-casual shirt he was wearing; thank god, she was dressed correctly.

"He's waiting downstairs. Said he can't be arsed to walk up all those stairs. Even though there is a lift..."

"Since when did he become so lazy?" (Y/N) giggled, grabbing her handbag and keys. Turning back around, she saw Fred staring at her.

"(Y/N), you look..." Fred was speechless, which was rare for him. He always had a witty remark, a joke or a flirty comment at the ready, but when he was around (Y/N), those words seemed to get stuck in his throat,"...beautiful."

(Y/N) smiled, ducking her head to hide her blush."Th-thanks Freddie. You look very handsome too."

There were so many more words that he wanted to use to compliment her. He wanted to slap himself for using such a basic word. (Y/N) was gorgeous, she was dazzling, he could believe such a smart, independant and caring woman was in his life. Why did he have to stutter or forget how to speak when he was around her? The real words he wanted to say were on the tip of his tongue, but they would never leave there.

Awkwardly laughing, they left the flat, meeting George outside. George noticed their pink cheeks but didn't mention it, knowing they had embarrassed themselves enough in front of each other.

The journey was full of banter and inside jokes, making it seem like they were students again at Hogwarts. (Y/N)'s nerves about seeing the Weasley’s again had disappeared, but new ones emerged. And they were all because of Fred. (Y/N) wasn't stupid, she had always had feelings for him. But after the battle, she hadn't snatched him up, something held her back, and she just couldn't bring herself to even talk to Fred about it, like any other normal adult would.

The Burrow was just ahead, now the nerves were taken over by excitement. Fred and George reminded (well, warned) (Y/N) how excited their mum was going to be, but she didn't mind. It would be great to receive such an inviting reception. She walked between the twins up to the house, letting them go in first, hesitating slightly as she took in how many people were there; they weren't joking when they said everyone would be there.

"Mum, look who else we brought." Fred struggled to say as he was smothered with kisses across his face.

Molly finally let him go, her smile turning into a shocked expression before letting out a scream, making everyone jump. She didn't waste time bringing (Y/N) into a bone crushing hug. (Y/N) would have laughed if she could breathe, but didn't complain.

"Oh, it's so good to see you dear! It's been too long since you've been back here." Molly held (Y/N)'s cheeks in her hands, looking at how the young girl she knew had turned into a beautiful woman.

“I couldn’t say no when Fred and George invited me.” (Y/N) said through squished lips. 

“Alright mum, give her some air.” George gently chuckled.

“Oh, this is so nice.” Molly beamed, glancing between (Y/N) and Fred, who was already looking at her. 

It took a good ten minutes for the twins and (Y/N) to greet everyone. She always forgot how many Weasley’s there were, some she had not seen for years. Homemade food was laid out on the table (far more than what was needed), everyone nibbling at anything they fancied as they spoke over drinks. There was a toast held for Arthur, who humbly thanked everyone, bashful over Molly’s speech; and she didn’t leave out mentioning how lovely it was that the family was extending, referring to (Y/N). She had blushed too much recently, avoiding eye contact with Fred as everyone stared at the pair who were stood together.

The day was moving on too quickly, it was becoming dark outside, and she didn’t want the night to end. The family had split into groups, still having much to talk about. (Y/N) decided to refill her drink, parting from the others to head to the kitchen. Just as she found another bottle to open, someone appeared beside her. Craning her neck upwards, she flinched back as Fred held out her coat to her, along with her hat, scarves and gloves.

“We’re not leaving are we?” (Y/N) frowned, not wanting to leave.

“Just popping out.” Fred smiled.

After getting wrapped up, (Y/N) followed Fred outside. Once again, it was lightly snowing, starting to stick to the ground which was already frosty, the sound of grass crunching underneath their shoes. She nonchalantly looped her arm through his, snuggling into him (if he asked, she would blame it on the cold), her heart fluttering when Fred instead wrapped his arm around her shoulders, meaning they could be closer. They didn’t stray too far from the house, Fred casting Lumos to light the way. There was a crumbling stone wall which Fred confidently hopped onto. (Y/N) waited for some part of it to collapse, and when it didn't, she joined him, having to jump higher to reach the top. He laughed, forgetting how much advantage his height have him almost everyday.

"We've never sat here before." (Y/N) commented.

"Honestly, I didn't even know it was here."

"So we were just wandering around?" (Y/N) smiled.

"Yeah." Fred confessed.

“How come you wanted to get out of the house?”

“Uh...I wanted to, well, I thought we could talk.”

“About?” she dragged out the word.

“When I saw you again, after all this time, I realised what an idiot I’ve been.”

“What do you mean?”

“Obviously we’re busy, we’ve both got jobs and it’s always harder to meet up. But I regret that so much. After...what happened at Hogwarts, you were my rock, I always felt normal around you, as if nothing had happened. We were able to carry on with our lives like we had planned. When I didn’t see you, I would lie awake all night with that image of you beside me in the hall. It would never go away.”

“Why have you never told me any of this?” 

“I’ve been too scared to reveal anything. I didn’t want to bring anything up, because who would want to be with someone who is still stuck in the past?”

“I would. Fred, you’re not alone in this. I’ve always felt the same. I visited you all those times because my mind would make me think that I never saved you. And if I hadn’t....I don’t know how I would have gone on. Because if I didn’t have you in my life-”

“Don’t finish that sentence, please. We’ve been through so much that we shouldn’t have. But we’re here now, together again.”

Fred held her hand, slowly interlocking their fingers. They both looked down, butterflies erupting in their stomach. The pair glanced at each other, quickly looking away when they realised how close their faces were.

“Why are we acting like kids at school again?” (Y/N) laughed.

“You’re asking the guy who owns and runs a joke shop with his brother, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped being a kid.”

“We did, once.”

“(Y/N), we don’t have to think about that anymore. It’s in the past.”

“Freddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember the last time we were in a situation like this? When you actually had the courage to ask me to the Yule ball?”

“And we went as friends?”

She nodded.“Yep. You know, I was a little disappointed when you added that part.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was sort of hoping you would ask me out as well. Then when you said that, and I just gave up trying. You never noticed me flirting anyway.”

“I never asked you because I never knew. And you also had guys after you so I didn’t think I had a chance.”

“Are you joking? Fred, no one else was wanting to date me.”

“Now you’re the one who is joking.”

“Well...”

“Well?”

“Let’s not make this more awkward than it already is.”

“Oh it’s awkward now?”

“Fred!” (Y/N) exclaimed but couldn’t help laughing along with him.

“No, no, I’m enjoying this.”

“Fred Weasley, after all this time being idiots and wasting time not being together...”

“What? Did you change your mind-”

(Y/N) didn’t know how to say it, instead closing the already small gap them and kissing him. Fred was shocked by how forward she was, but wasted no time kissing back. Her hands cupped his cheeks as Fred’s hands wound themselves around her waist. This had been long overdue. As they pulled away, breathless from the passionate kiss, Fred started to chuckle.

“What is it?” (Y/N) asked.

“Mum is gonna scream when she finds out about this.”

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter one shot #harry potter x reader #hogwarts #george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley one shot #george weasley x reader

[y0itsbri]

Milk(ovich) & Cookies

Summary: A Gallagher family vacation AU with baker!Mickey

Prompt: a canon divergent first meeting of Ian and Mickey, where Mickey is the one pursuing Ian (basically gimme ALL the flirty Mickey you can muster)

For @abundanceofnots for the Gallavich Gift Exchange 2021 (@gallavichthings) 🎁

A thousand 'thank you's to my love @grumpymickmilk for the wonderful banner and all the support 💗

Words: 3.3k

"Gallaghers, line up! Everyone have their hats, coats, gloves, scarves, boots?"

The Gallagher kids stood in line in front of Fiona, frantically fumbling with each of their outfits to make sure they were appropriately bundled for the snow. Debbie held Liam's small hand while Fiona secured his hat's velcro strap under his chin. Carl kept trying to take off running towards the lodge, but Ian held a firm grip on his shoulder.

Fiona stepped back a couple paces, hands on her waist. "Alright, kids. Meet back at the room for dinner. You better come back in one piece or I will break you myself." She knelt down in front of Carl, taking his face in her hands, "And no creating weapons of mass destruction this winter vacation, got it?"

"No promises." Lip mumbled.

"Sounds good, Fi." Ian smiled, squeezing a half-promising smile out of Carl too.

"Great. Call me or Jimmy-Steve if you need anyone, but try not to need anything." She lifted Liam off the floor and settled him on her hip.

-

Debbie and Carl fucked off to god knows where to terrorize the locals. Lip was already well on his way to being plastered in the all-expenses-included lodge bar, whining to some chick about being in the off stage of his on-again-off-again relationship with Karen Jackson.

Ian, sober as ever, decided to make the most of his trip and take a stroll down Main Street. Rainbow Christmas lights were wrapped around the trunks of each tree, wreaths and metal snowflakes hung from streetlights, and each store took on their own festive identity.

He made note of an antique shop and a gift shop he wanted to visit before they left, but his heart (and stomach) was drawn to a bakery. 'Sweet Cheeks' was lit up in some retro font, an image of a chipmunk with full cheeks seemingly the mascot of the small business. Ian smiled.

Scents of cinnamon and ginger and other spices that Ian's nose wasn't able to distinguish swirled together in a delicious coziness. The warm lights from the store flooded out onto the pavement, daring him to escape the cold. He caved.

Inside the bakery, some indie music played over the speakers, a comfortable volume amongst the chatter and laughter coming from nearby tables.

"Can I help you?" A voice called from behind the counter, more amused than annoyed, as the seemingly permanent grumpy face would otherwise indicate. The guy raised an eyebrow at Ian, who was standing in the entrance like an oaf. Fuck, he was being embarrassing.

"Uh, yeah. Something smelled good when I was walking by. I want whatever that was."

As soon as it left his mouth, Ian knew that it wasn't the right thing to say.

"I mean, uh," he skimmed the menu as quickly as he could but it may have well been in a different language for all he knew. French maybe? Debbie had an 'all-things-Paris' phase a few years back, but he didn't know enough to get by.

"Cookies are on the house, man." The guy sniffed, cheeks pink from the warm lighting of the café.

Ian sighed in relief. "Yeah, that sounds great."

Ian threw a couple dollars in the tip jar and then headed out. It wasn't until he was a few stores down that he actually took a bite into the gingerbread cookie.

And fuck.

He was pretty sure it was the best damn cookie he's ever had.

-

Ian was no glutton, but he couldn't get that cookie out of his head all night. Before he went to bed, he googled 'Sweet Cheeks - Chicago' and hoped they posted their menu online.

They didn't.

-

"One iced coffee please." Ian leaned against the counter, already throwing a couple bucks into the tip jar as the same guy as before rang up his order. He was wearing a name tag upside. He tilted his head a bit to read it.

Mickey.

"You're back soon." Mickey smiled. It was a beautiful smile if Ian had ever seen one. Slightly crooked and his eyes crinkling with it, as if he was genuinely happy to see Ian.

"Couldn't stop thinking about that gingerbread cookie if we're being honest. Do you guys put crack in it or something?"

A couple patrons turned their head in shock, but Mickey laughed outright. Ian didn't think it was that funny, but he smiled anyways.

"Nah, man. Not this time."

This had Ian wondering -- Did they put crack in cookies? Was it like the same ballfield as pot in brownies? He bet Mickey would know more about it.

"What's your name, Red?"

"Uh, Ian."

"Sick, thanks, man. Coffee will be out soon."

A few moments later, Mickey had Ian's coffee out, complete with a cookie in a paper bag.

"It ain't a gingerbread, but I figured you'd still think this is cute as fuck."

Ian couldn't imagine calling a cookie cute, but when he saw what Mickey was referring to, yeah, it was cute as fuck. A sugar cookie with a penguin drawn onto it with that fancy icing.

"Thanks, Mickey." Ian shoved the cookie into his mouth in one bite as he nodded and headed towards the door.

"See ya, Red."

Ian couldn't help but wonder if Mickey's customer service was as amicable to everyone else or if he was just special. He didn't dare bring it up to Lip when he was in proper 'will-embarrass-little-brother-in-public' mode. Ian didn't need some baker thinking he was an arrogant piece of shit, even if he could be. But he still didn't need Mickey to know that. Or worse, get offended at the idea.

Yeah, it was better to stay quiet and enjoy his sweet treats.

-

Ian walked into Sweet Cheeks the next morning expecting Mickey behind the counter again, but was greeted with a dark-haired woman instead. Ian smiled when they locked eyes, but she immediately ducked into the back.

Weird.

By the time Ian made it to the counter, Mickey seemed to be arguing with the girl, but when he caught sight of Ian, his grumpy eyebrows softened and the tips of his ears almost seemed to flush.

"Uh, hey Mickey."

"Hi Ian."

The shop was pretty much empty this early in the morning. Ian had made sure to sneak out of the lodge before any of his siblings woke up. There was some drama going down and he did not want any part of that to ruin his good vibe streak.

"I'm starving. What's good to eat?"

"What? You not liking my cookies anymore?" Mickey teased. He knew damn well Ian was whipped to those sweet, sweet mounds of sugar.

Ian rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. I don't think a cookie shaped like a penguin is gonna sustain me throughout the day."

"What about a polar bear?"

Ian raised an eyebrow and Mickey cocked his head to the latest cookie display. Sure enough, bears with earmuffs lined the glass.

"Cute." Ian said, and he meant it.

"I'll get you some real food too, man, don't worry."

This had to be the least professional transaction that has ever occurred, but Ian trusted Mickey's judgement at this point, the man clearly a confectionary god. He turned to start up the little stove.

"How long're ya here for?"

"Chicago? I've lived here forever. But like we're just visiting this part because my sister's boyfriend's family is apparently rich as fuck and she has some dirt on him so we're here for free for winter break."

Mickey continued staring, the corner of his lips quipping up. Ian was rambling. The classic Gallagher-overshare.

"We're here until the end of December."

"Good to know."

"Why's that?" Ian played along.

"Like seeing your face around here." Mickey shrugged as if it wasn't the nicest thing anyone has said to Ian in... awhile. God, that's sad.

"Ditto." Ian smiled.

-

Family dinners were always chaotic, but somehow, the Gallaghers managed to up the ante when they were anywhere but home. Voices overlapped until Fiona had enough. One at a time, they were to share one thing they were thankful for. A special Gallagher rendition of a late Thanksgiving, since they don't really celebrate the real thing anymore.

"I'm thankful for you guys and my new laptop." Debbie grinned.

"I'm thankful for Debbie's laptop so I can look up-- ouch! What the fuck?!"

"Carl!"

When it came to Ian's turn, he only had one thought, which admittedly had been swarming his head ever since he stepped foot into the place to begin with.

"I'm thankful for the free cookies at Sweet Cheeks down on Main."

He expected everyone to nod and move on, so he was very much not prepared for the looks of confusion from about half his party.

"Uhhhh, am I missing something?" He finally wondered aloud.

Fiona spoke up. "That the Milkovich's bakery?"

Ian shrugged. Mickey seemed vaguely eastern European so he didn't deny the possibility.

"They never have free samples. Never have, never will. Not even Liam's cute pouty face did the trick."

Weird. Oh. Oh.

Ian's head was buzzing a million miles a minute. He didn't hear Lip's speech about how all women were manipulative monsters or the following argument that ensued.

-

Ian had a plan. He stormed into Sweet Cheeks, cash in hand.

"How much do I owe you?"

Mickey was startled out of a conversation with that same girl Ian had seen before. "Huh?"

"For the cookies?"

"Really, Red? Thought we went over this. On the house?"

"Yeah, but then why just me?"

Mickey's eyes softened a bit. "Wanted you to have 'em. I like the way your face lights up. Like giving a dog a bone or some shit."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Did you want to order something or did you just come here to shove money down my pants?"

Ian wasn't thinking about shoving his money there, but now that Mickey mentioned it, he couldn't imagine anything else.

"'Ey, eyes up here." Mickey smirked. Ian gulped.

"Coffee."

"Okay, great. What's your favorite candy, Ian?"

"Reece's?"

"Sweet."

Ian pondered that a bit. He settled on, "Yeah."

-

Carl was involved in some scam gone wrong. The Gallaghers got that shit under control, they always do, but it did result in Ian being late to the bakery. Like... a lot late. The front door was locked.

"Shit."

Ian slid against the glass door until his ass hit the pavement. He liked the feeling of being a regular somewhere. Especially somewhere where he felt like he actually had a friend.

Despite the cool lodge they got to stay in, Ian felt gross about the whole situation that led them here with Jimmy-Steve's dad. And staying in the man's lodge felt even ickier. Seeing Mickey at least reminded him that there was sweetness under all of this.

But tonight he let himself get a little tipsy, and in Ian Gallagher world, tipsy meant plastered. It was a thin line to balance that he still hadn't perfected. Probably never would.

"You freezin' your ass off?"

Mickey.

Ian felt his ass. Yeah, pretty cold.

"C'mon, let's get you inside."

Ian tried to lift himself up, but somehow ended up sliding even further down the door.

Ian heard a "fuck" coming from Mickey's direction and then small but sturdy hands lifting him to his feet and leaning him against Mickey's shorter frame to keep him upright.

He hadn't remembered getting this drunk.

Mickey unlocked the front door and ordered Ian to sit in one of the corner chairs while he flicked on a couple lamps and hooked up his phone to the surround speakers, a chill song playing, making Ian feel like he was floating.

Mickey sat across from Ian. "Wanna talk about it?"

Ian was coherent enough to be embarrassed about his current state, but he didn't know what else to do.

"Not tonight."

Mickey placed a palm on Ian's thigh, and gave it a comforting squeeze once, twice. He sighed.

"Wanna help me with this new recipe? Some chump I know likes Reece's peanut butter cups and I gotta make some cookies for tomorrow."

It took a moment to process.

"I'm the chump?"

Mickey looked at him with too much fondness in his eyes. "Yeah, man. Sure are. Legs up."

"Huh?" Ian mumbled, but complied.

Mickey pushed his rolling chair to the back of the bakery and through the doors to the main kitchen.

"Woah."

Mickey smirked. "What's the matter, chump? Never seen a kitchen before?"

Ian had seen a kitchen before. But something about this being The Kitchen that created the delicious cookies he consumed everyday, The Kitchen where Mickey apparently was in charge and in his element, thinking about what Ian of all people would enjoy. It was enough to make his heart beat out of his chest.

Mickey shoved a glass of water in his hand. "Drink this and look pretty."

Ian nodded lazily.

They chatted about mindless drama, high school horror stories, their favorite types of mac and cheese, the dog that Carl once brought home, the chronicles of Lip Gallagher and Karen Jackson.

Somewhere in the night, Ian's eyes began to linger on the way that Mickey's long-sleeve shirt clung to his waist and arms, the smudge of flour along the side of Mickey's nose and eyebrow where he had mindlessly scratched them. He was kinda really pretty.

"Staring pretty hard over there, bud. Don't wanna pull a muscle."

Ian shrugged. He was way past being embarrassed now. "Like what I see."

Mickey's cheeks grew pinker at that. "Is that so?"

"Mhm. Have for a while." Ian couldn't even blame the alcohol even if he wanted to at this point. He'd been sobering up nicely, his feelings only intensifying under the kitchen lights.

"Here," Mickey walked over, footsteps heavy against the floor. "Try this." Ian lost track of the batch number, but he couldn't wait to try. He opened his mouth for Mickey to feed him.

"Gross." Mickey grumbled.

But sure enough, Mickey placed a piece of cookie on his tongue, his thumb accidentally brushing Ian's bottom lip.

Ian chewed slowly, not breaking eye contact with Mickey the whole time.

-

Ian laid in bed that night... morning? whatever, thinking about Mickey. Mickey's kind eyes, Mickey's wit, Mickey's hands.

-

Ian smiled the whole way to the bakery, a grin playing on his face the whole time Mickey got his order ready.

Ian pulled out a cookie from the paper bag and shoved it whole in his mouth.

Huh. The ones they made last night didn't have icing. Shit, maybe he should have looked at it. Judging by the horrified expression on Mickey's face, yeah, he definitely should have looked at it.

"Was there icing on that one?" Ian asked dumbly.

Mickey paused, steadying his breath, "... Yeah."

Ian pawed around the rest of his bag. No more icing.

"Why don't the others have icing?"

Fuck.

"I was trying to be cute, but I forgot that you eat like a fucking stray dog."

Ian pouted.

"Stray dogs can be cute, man, I'm not denying that. But you just scarfed down my beautiful creation without a second thought. Nah, you don't deserve to know what it said."

"Oh c'mon Mickey," Ian whined. He had the puppy face down. He knew he did. It would only take Mickey a few seconds to cave.

He didn't.

-

"Lip, there's something seriously wrong with this guy!"

Lip took a drag on the cigarette they were sharing outside of the lodge. "Remind me again why you like him?"

Ian kicked Lip's shin. "It's serious, dude. The puppy eyes didn't work!"

Lip gasped in mock-horror. "Oh no! Someone alert the authorities! Maybe Ian Gallagher isn't as cute as he thought he was!"

"Oh, fuck you too, asshole." Ian made grabby fingers for the cigarette and Lip complied.

Ian leaned his head against the wall.

"Down bad, huh?"

"You could say that again."

"Have you like, I dunno, made a move yet?"

Ian considered. "What if he doesn't feel that way about me?"

Lip took the cigarette back and brought it to his lips. "Then we drink, brother."

-

Ian had gotten closer with the other baker at Sweet Cheeks over the last few weeks. He'd learned that her name was Mandy and that she was Mickey's little sister. If he couldn't guess it from the way that they looked nearly identical, then he could by the banter between them that could only be acceptable between siblings.

One afternoon, Ian was on babysitting duty, so he brought Liam and Debbie into Sweet Cheeks, planning to order them both a slice of pie. Mickey wasn't working, so Ian knew not to expect free cookies. Instead, Mandy greeted them at the counter, a beaming smile across her face.

"Hi Ian and friends!"

Debbie's eyes widened in awe. Unbeknownst to Ian, his little sister was having her queer awakening all thanks to the magnificent Mandy Milkovich.

"Hey Mandy! I have a favor."

Ian ushered his siblings to his favorite booth in the corner while he conspired with Mandy.

-

It was almost closing time at the bakery, which meant that Mickey would be in soon to prep the next day's batch of special cookies.

But Ian had a surprise of his own.

"'ey Gallagher, what're you doing here?" Mickey smirked, pleased with the way that he apparently had Ian wrapped around his fingers.

"Got something for ya."

Mickey frowned. "It ain't Christmas yet, right? Because I don't do that shit."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Nope, something better." Ian immediately regretted his choice in words, hoping he wasn't about to make a giant fool out of himself. He didn't know what he would do if he could never show his face in Sweet Cheeks again for the rest of his vacation. The cookies had a goddamn grip on him. And Mickey, too, of course. He was a close second.

Ian dragged Mickey through the bakery back to the kitchen, ignoring Mandy's knowing gaze and the blood that rushed to his cheeks and neck in response. Focus, Gallagher.

"I, uh, made you something."

Mickey's eyebrow did the cute quirk thing that Ian had grown to love and appreciate over the last few weeks.

"You did, huh?" Mickey sneakily peeked around behind Ian's shoulder, trying to see what all the fuss was about.

"Mhm." Ian's nerves were building. "Here." He handed Mickey a piece of paper and stepped aside to reveal two basic chocolate chip cookies with icing messily scribbling out 'yes' on one and 'no' on the other.

Mickey unfolded the paper, a smile growing on his face. He stood in front of the cookies, staring back at Ian like the goddamn tease he knew he was before picking up the cookie that said 'yes' and taking a bite.

His face scrunched up adorably but he managed to swallow.

Ian snuck up into his space. "For real?"

"Yes, Ian, of course I fuckin' like you."

"Oh."

"Oh." Mickey teased back. He placed a hand on Ian's hip. "Ya know, if anyone else was messing around in my kitchen behind my back, they'd be a smear on the pavement by now."

Ian could admire Mickey's ability to really paint a picture with words.

"Why do I get a pass?"

Mickey took a step closer, breath warm against Ian's neck before he felt soft lips pressing into his skin along with a stuttered breath coming from his throat.

"Does that answer your question, chump?"

Ian smiled, "Message a little unclear. Might wanna try again?"

"Mmm, dork." Mickey smiled into the kiss.

-

Bonus headcanon!

Once they're dating, Ian will post pictures of Mickey's sweet treats on his Instagram stories with dumbass captions like "Mmm the cookies aren't the only things I'm tasting tonight," and then Mickey makes him delete that shit and repost with a more acceptable comment. He's a businessman, Ian, put some respect on the name 😤🙄

-

Note: The name 'Sweet Cheeks' was an ode to how Mickey looks like a chipmunk when he drinks mixed with Fiona's nickname for Ian (sweet face) <3

Oh! Also important to note! The cookie that Ian ate without reading had Mickey's phone number on it written in icing </3 Poor boy was trying to make a move himself and it just did. not. land. sdhfkdsfsfsj Mandy gave him a hard time over that one.

#shameless #gallavich #gallavich gift exchange #gallavich gift exchange 2021 #GGE2021 #ian x mickey #my posts #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #mandy milkovich #lip gallagher #carl gallagher #fiona gallagher #liam gallagher #debbie gallagher #holidays #food