#and that was a good time but i felt like lightning didn't quite... bring out the best in hope

[wifeofnatasharomanoff]

Strawberries & Hail

Series Masterlist

WARNINGS: pregnant!reader, fluff, they make out for like a minute, flirty nat and reader ofc

WORDS: 1,161

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

A/N: flashback for Say Yes To Me when reader was pregnant with Alex

checking in on my loves, have you been getting any rest? please take care of yourselves, ilysm <3

It was a bit late out as you were waiting for Natasha to come back home with the snacks you ever so kindly requested her to get you. After all, she had to listen since you were her wife and you were carrying her child. Plus the pregnancy cravings finally got to you, as you were a just few months pregnant with your son. Everything was so happy the day you told Natasha that you were expecting, she bought a new house away from the city and away from anything that could harm you or the baby. It was an average, cozy little home in the middle of a field.

Yelena and your in-laws would visit from time to time, Melina would usually bring an unnecessary amount of baby clothes, and Alexei would get a bunch of toy cars, while Natasha's younger sister would raid the fridge and pantry. Although it would get lonely at times, it was rather beautiful at night, sometimes you and Natasha would go outside just to look at the shimmering stars. Her head in your lap and your hands running through her gorgeous red hair.

“Detka I'm home!” the ruffling sounds of grocery bags and the front door closing, pull you out of your thoughts. “Natasha! What took you so long?” you walked over to her and placed a little kiss on her cheek. “I'm sorry I took long, the first place was out of strawberries.” you smile at her, “It's okay! Do you need help bringing the bags in the kitchen darling?” she shook her head, grabbing a hold of all the groceries with her strength.

You smirk, placing a hand on her bicep. “Oh, what would I have ever done if my wife didn't have such delicious muscles?” she chuckled, dropping down the plastic bags on the kitchen counter. “How did you think you got pregnant in the first place?” you gasp, lightly smacking her arm. “Nat!” she winks over at you, “Just the truth moya lyubov.” you definitely didn't deny it, that's for sure.

“Did you bring the cheese?” she nods, “Yeah, not quite sure what you'd do with that but–” you took out the cheese and ate it with a piece of chocolate. “Oh uh– never mind then.” you innocently look over at her, “What? The baby thinks it's good. Try it.” she shakes her head, “No thanks, I bought it for you babe.” you shrugged. “More for me and the baby, I guess.”

“Where did you put the strawberries?” she took them out of the fridge and handed the box to you. “Wash them before you eat it. Ever since I saw that strawberry bug video that Laura sent me I've been worried. I don't want you eating unwashed fruit and getting you or the baby sick or hurt in any way.” you put a few in a bowl, “Okay daddy.” you said before washing the berries at the sink. She walked over to you and rested her chin on your shoulder as you were cleaning the strawberries off. “Hey.” you smiled when you felt a soft pair of lips on your neck. “Hi Natty.” her light kisses traveled down to your collarbone. “..do you want a strawberry too?”

She shook her head, letting go of you. “Is it gonna rain today?” you ask her, glancing over at the window. The sky was dark, but cloudy. In some moments there seemed to be lightning in the sky and the trees in the distance were moving back and forth due to the wind. “hm.. I'm not quite sure baby, you want me to check?” you think about her question for a few seconds. “No, it's fine!” you sat down next to her on the couch, plopping a strawberry in your mouth.

“Isn't Nathan so adorable?” you ‘aww’ at the phone screen, and show your wife the picture that Laura just sent you. “Fat.” you send her a questioning look before laughing. “But I like fat babies. I hope our little boy is chubby.” you say, while resting your head on the redhead's shoulder.

Loud booming noises erupt from the sky, you just assume it's thunder and don't question about it. “How many kids would you ever want krasivaya?” you pondered the question for a bit, “I.. would wanna try for a girl at least.” she smiles, holding you close to her. “Did you know that you're hot pregnant?” she asked. “Yep. Moment ruined.” she chuckled, softly pressing a kiss to your plump lips. “Is the moment back?” she murmured against your mouth. You smiled, “Maybe..” you mumbled, burying your hands in her hair to deepen the kiss.

She picked you up on her lap. “I'm not hurting you am I?” you press up against her, “mm.. just shut up and kiss me Romanoff.” as this was going on, the thunder got louder by the second. She brings a hand to your waist, slipping her tongue into your mouth. “mmh– Natty what's that noise?” you pull away from her and look up at the ceiling. “Is it coming from the roof?” she asks, keeping her hand on your thigh. You get up from her lap and quickly make your way over to the front door, and open it. “woah.. Tasha come over here.”

She walks up to the door, wrapping her arm over your shoulder. “It's hailed in New York, but never here..” you sigh into her hold, “It's raining too. ha! I was right.” she presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, you were right baby.” you lean your head against her chest, watching the small pieces of ice fall from the sky and onto the ground.

“Can I eat one?” she furrowed her brows and looked down at you. “No.” you pout, “Why nottt?” she sighed. “Detka, it's ice dropping from the air and falling onto the ground, no.” a cold breeze passes by, making you shiver. “I wanna eat sky iceee. I'm pregnant with your baby, listen to me.” you whined, complaining about the fact that she didn't want you eating dirty ice while you were pregnant.

“It's cold. I'm going back inside.” you get out of her arms and walk back inside the house. “Babe!” she follows after you and walks inside your bedroom. “Moya lyubov, if I get you the ice from outside, then wash it. Would you be happy?” the corners of your lips curl up into a smile. “Please?” she chuckled, pulling you into her strong hold once again.

“I love you so much detka.” you pull away from her and peck her lips briefly. “hmm.. that's impossible because I love you more.” she shook her head, “Nope. No, we are not starting this again. I'll go get you your ‘sky ice’.” you giggled. “I love you Natty!” you call out to her as she walks out of the room.

Sometimes she wished things could go back to normal, but that can't happen. Can it?

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha marvel

[bi-bard]

Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe Relationships with the Murder Husbands [Pt. 3 - Midnights Edition] - Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter Preference [NBC's Hannibal]

Title: Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe Relationships with the Murder Husbands [Pt. 3 - Midnights Edition]

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Word Count: 3,394 words

Warning(s): cheating, imprisonment, burnout

Author's Note: I've redone this four times. (However, High Infidelity was in all four versions)

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Will Graham:

High Infidelity

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th? Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

--Third Person--

It all kept going through Will's mind in flashes. Like lightning strikes. Just as blinding.

He could still feel the touches and kisses. He could hear every word and sound. He never knew how vivid his memories could be until he was truly haunted by them.

He wondered if (Y/n) was in the same state.

Lying in their bed at home, watching the movie of their night together. He wondered how they felt when they thought about it. Did they experience the same mix of guilt and longing that he did? Or maybe they were still angry at him.

(Y/n) and Will had a history that went back even further than his history with Hannibal.

The two of them had become everything to each other. (Y/n) had been with Will through everything. They stayed by his side when he got arrested, when he got locked away in his head, and everything in between. In his mind, they became a beacon. A sign of safety that may never be matched again.

Everyone else could see that too.

They saw the way that the pair of them looked at each other. It was easy to see how Will seemed to relax just a bit. How (Y/n)'s entire face just softened when they saw him.

Which is why it was more than shocking when Will left (Y/n) behind after Hannibal was arrested. He left town suddenly, leaving (Y/n) in the Wolf Trap house with a few dogs. No one knew why.

(Y/n) refused to go into detail about it. Instead, they would shake their head and say that it was for the best.

And then, Will came back.

After three years, the pair were meeting again in Jack Crawford's office.

Will kissed (Y/n) first. Back at the old house in Wolf Trap.

(Y/n) saw the wedding band on his finger. They just couldn't bring themself to care about it.

The rest of that night was contained to the blur of images. They ran through Will's head like images on a projector.

He wasn't sure how long he had spent lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling before he reached for the phone.

His body was moving faster than his mind was.

"Hey," Molly's voice almost caught him off-guard. "How you doing out there?"

"As well as expected," Will replied quietly.

"I see," she mumbled. "But you're doing some good, right?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I hope so."

He didn't see it, but he could assume her eyebrows furrowed. "What's going on, Will?"

He closed his eyes. Every word, every thought was stuck in his throat. He couldn't think of something to say. He knew what he needed to say. What needed to be explained. He just couldn't.

In a way, Molly already knew.

She knew all too well about (Y/n) and their importance. Will still held onto the gifts they gave him. His hesitance to tell stories about them was sign enough to Molly that the wounds were all too fresh for him to discuss.

She couldn't find a way to be upset with them before then.

She only knew of the kind person that tried to keep the man she loved safe. She couldn't punish someone for being in love. She could only punish the actions that a person acted on. And even then, she found herself terrifyingly understanding.

"Did..." she didn't want to ask, but she knew that she needed the answer. "Did something happen with (Y/n)?"

Will's breath got stuck just as the words had mere moments before. "Yes."

Her eyes closed. "Did you sleep with them?"

"Yes."

She bit her lip and looked down. She was truly angrier with Will than she was with (Y/n).

She could've screamed at him. She had every right to do so. Will was expecting her to. Almost hoping that she would. Granted, he wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was just in the hopes of knowing where he stood after it all.

But she didn't.

Molly stayed silent for a while, letting all of it sink in and settle under the surface of her skin.

"I'm sorry."

Will's words were a whisper. A desperate, overwhelmed, scared whisper.

He heard a sigh before Molly spoke, "I know."

It was just as quiet but sounded emotionless.

There wasn't another word spoken before the line went dead.

Will closed his eyes.

Nothing left to do now but deal with the feelings he still held for (Y/n).

Anti-Hero

I should not be left to my own devices They come with prices and vices I end up in crisis

If you had told me years ago that I would be visiting the man I loved in prison, then I would have scoffed at you.

If you had told me that I would find myself being constantly "confronted" (harassed) by the same "journalist" every day for God knows how long, then I would've questioned what the hell I had done to warrant such attention.

But here I was. Doing both.

Visiting Will was both the best and worst time of my week.

The best because I got to see the man I loved. The worst because it was in a hospital for the criminally insane.

I found myself sitting on a chair across from Will. He was in a cage. Locked away like a damn zoo animal.

I wanted nothing more than to walk closer. Just to touch his hand or press a kiss to his knuckles. But I couldn't do that because of the guard watching over us.

"I heard that you've been seeing a lot of Freddie Lounds," he said.

I nodded. "She got our address from somewhere. Don't know who would've known our address and willingly given it to her."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"It is," he corrected. "I'm the one being accused of murder, yet you're the one getting harassed. It's my fault that this is happening to you."

I shook my head.

"You're getting harassed and insulted. You have to come here just to see me. It's not fair to you. I have managed to drag you through hell without ever meaning to."

"I don't think so," I shrugged. He sighed. "You wanna know who I blame?"

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"I blame whoever decided to set you up in the first place," I said. "As far as the harassment, that's Freddie's fault. Not yours. You can't control how disrespectful some people can be."

He didn't respond.

"I love you, Will," I continued. "I love you so much that I sometimes can't even comprehend it. I am not going anywhere. I am staying right here with you. Through every moment of it. Got it?"

He slowly nodded.

I relaxed into my seat a bit.

"I love you too," he added after a moment.

I grinned. "I know."

I saw the start of a grin forming on his lips.

It brought me a sense of hope.

One way or another, we were both going to get through this.

Mastermind

What if I told you none of it was accidental And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me I laid the groundwork and then just like clockwork The dominoes cascaded in a line What if I told you I'm a mastermind?

There was something about watching Will do his work that was absolutely fascinating.

He could look at a single room and tell you what happened within the last twenty-four hours. I found all of it incredibly impressive. Granted, it also made me feel guilty watching his mind go to a place that he clearly didn't want it to.

We had been in the lecture hall that he taught in. He was looking over crime scene photos and mentioned that I could stay if I wanted to.

"What do you think," he asked, looking at me.

Oh. That. That's why he told me that I could stay.

I looked over the photos.

Will was standing right next to me. So close that I could've sworn that I felt his breath hitting me.

I frowned at the images. It's not like I actually knew what I was talking about.

"I... I don't know," I muttered. "I can't make sense of any of it."

"Well, that's because this killer is working very hard to make us see a message when there very well may not be one."

"Oh," I mumbled, not looking away from the images. I wanted to see what he did.

"Are you alright?"

I looked over to see his eyebrows furrowed. He genuinely thought that I was able to do half of what his mind could do. He was diving into the darkest corners of a person's mind and coming back with a jewel.

I was frantically flailing my limbs in the hopes of not drowning and revealing that I couldn't swim.

I nodded.

"Are you sure," he pushed. I offered another nod. "You are not as good at hiding your emotions as you think you are."

"Don't be an asshole," I muttered.

He chuckled, shaking his head a bit. "Don't lie to me."

I took a deep breath, scanning his face for a moment.

"I have been for a while," I confessed.

"Excuse me," he raised an eyebrow at me.

"I... don't understand an ounce of the stuff you've been telling me about," I explained. "I've been doing a lot of reading and listening to your lectures when I can. I don't actually know a lot about any of this."

Will's arms crossed over his chest. "Why?"

"It sounds really stupid," I replied. "I liked you."

He didn't respond.

"I... I liked you, so I thought that the best way to get your attention was to try to relate to you with some of this stuff," I continued. "Not that I'm trying to trivialize what you do. I understand that what you do causes you pain and I want nothing more than to be able to help with that.

"And I'm sorry for lying to you. I just... I wanted to get to know you. Properly. I thought you were intriguing and clever and sarcastic as all hell and handsome. I was just trying to get you to let me in. Let me spend some time with you."

I barely noticed Will's gaze shifting as I spoke.

"And, not to brag, but it did work," I motioned around me. "I'd... I'd like to think that my company isn't a complete annoyance if you let me sit and listen to your theories and deductions. If it hadn't had some benefit, then I wouldn't have done it."

I stopped myself at long last. It was like the pause button on the remote was stuck. I just hadn't been able to stop talking until I had gotten all of that out.

"Will," I said. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not... I'm not upset," he explained. "A little shocked, maybe, but not upset."

"Oh," I muttered. "That's good."

He nodded.

I watched him step even closer to me. My heart rate spiked up. My palms were becoming sweaty. I was certain that my pupil had devoured most of my iris as I looked at him. His eyes seemed to focus on every other part of me.

His nervousness wasn't clear until he moved.

He was hesitant. Like he was ready to back away at any time. Whenever I showed an ounce of discomfort. I stayed where I was, letting him decide what happened next.

His lips found mine carefully. I had never kissed someone that treated me so much like glass.

I kissed him back just as gently.

His hands slowly moved to cup the sides of my face. Kissing him back seemed to unlock something. His hesitance fell away. He kissed me more passionately. I grinned into the kiss.

I leaned back a few moments later, feeling like if I didn't stop kissing him, then I never would.

Will tried to follow my lips, making me laugh quietly as I pushed him back by his chest.

I think it's safe to say that my plan had been a success.

Hannibal Lecter:

Labyrinth

It only feels this raw right now Lost in the labyrinth of my mind Break up, break free, break through, break down You would break your back to make me break a smile

Hannibal's house was overwhelming.

It almost felt like a museum of sorts. Like if I touched anything, an alarm would sound, and I would be escorted off of the premises.

The dinners he crafted were no different. He treated every plate like a canvas. It felt like a crime to cut into any of it.

I was always so grateful for the invitations that he offered me.

It was a privilege to get to sit across from him and have such casual conversation.

I always assumed that I was the only one who had something to be grateful for. He always seemed so in control of what was going on. He guided the conversation. The dinners were in his domain. He seemed to know every detail of the night long before he decided that I would be the one he was sharing it with.

One night, Hannibal showed me that I may have been wrong.

"I must say," he started, "I have often found it difficult to form genuine connections with people. But with you, it feels like I have no choice other than to allow one to form."

I chuckled. "I hope that's a good thing. I wouldn't want you to feel like I'm twisting your arm."

"Not at all," he explained. "'It is simply difficult for me to find space to hide from you. It feels more natural to let you see every part of me."

I grinned. "I hope you know that the feeling is mutual."

He smiled back at me.

"May I ask what inspired that confession," I asked as I reached for the glass of wine in front of me.

There was a pause as he watched me take a sip before returning the glass to the place it belonged.

"I found myself thinking about it in between appointments today," he finally replied. "I have yet to find myself looking forward to dinner with others in the same way I look forward to dinner with you."

"I'm flattered. I thought I was alone in terms of anticipation."

His grin seemed amused. "Perhaps our next dinner should be under different circumstances."

I hummed. "Well, Hannibal, it sounds like you're suggesting a date."

"And if I were?"

He looked away from me as he asked. For just a moment, he seemed nervous. Like some part of him thought that I would be able to say no to him.

"I would be happy to accept," I said.

He looked at me again. "Well then, I'll be sure to make something truly special for the occasion."

I bit the inside of my cheek nervously.

And just like that, everything had changed.

Paris

I want to brainwash you into loving me forever I want to transport you to somewhere the culture's clever Confess my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters

I had no better word to describe that night than fairytale.

Hannibal and I were in the midst of building our new lives. This meant a new home, new names, whole careers to rebuild. Everything was different. The only constant was each other.

Part of Hannibal's path to gaining respect from the people he needed to respect him was going to fancy events.

As he led me into a grand hall full of people in fancy suits and dresses, all conversing and drinking and dancing, I found myself overwhelmed.

I stood off to the side, deciding to entertain the view from the large windows along the wall.

Hannibal walked over to me, touching my back in an act of comfort. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "It's all just... more than I'm used to."

"I see," he replied. "Would you like to leave?"

"No, no," I said. "It's okay. I just need to adjust."

Hannibal reached over and grabbed my hand. I watched as he pulled it up to his lips, pressing a kiss on the knuckles.

"This all feels too good to be real," I mumbled as he did. He tilted his head at me, lowering my hand again. "The grand party and the fancy people. Being in a place like this. Being here with you. It all feels like some romantic movie."

"But you're happy," he asked.

I moved my free hand to cup the side of his face. "Yes. You have always made me very happy. You are the reason this all feels like such a dream."

His grin grew before he turned his head to place a kiss on my palm.

As we stood by the window, in this space between the beautiful city and the grand party, I decided that there was absolutely no place I would rather be other than right by his side.

Sweet Nothing

Industry disrupters and soul deconstructors And smooth-talking hucksters Out glad-handing each other And the voices that implore "You should be doing more" To you I can admit That I'm just too soft for all of it

I never ignored Hannibal when he greeted me.

Every time I came home, he would be tucked away in the kitchen. I would hear him call "Welcome home" and I would reply with some kind of greeting before saying that I was going to change before dinner.

He must've known that something was wrong from the moment that I didn't reply to his greeting.

I simply went upstairs silently and changed my clothes.

I came back down to the kitchen a little while later.

I wonder how exhausted I looked to him. I would like to think that I hid it well from everyone else, but with him, I never could. I never felt like I needed to. He had this air of comfort and safety to him. One that pulled down my walls before I could fight it.

I sat in the armchair in the corner in silence. I watched him work.

"Would you like to discuss what happened today," he asked, looking at me.

I shook my head, eyes still fixed on his cooking.

I heard him sigh and place the knife down. "(Y/n)..."

I finally let my eyes meet his.

"You can talk to me about whatever is bothering you," he explained. "Hiding your thoughts and true feelings in a relationship can lead to a very unhealthy pattern of behavior. One that I don't wish to see you partake in."

I didn't speak up for a moment.

"Darling, talk to me, please. I would like to know what is wrong so I can think of some way to fix it."

I felt the tears building up in my eyes. I looked down at my hands again.

"It's been a long day," I forced a chuckle, hoping to make it seem like I simply overreacting.

I heard the water run as he cleaned off his hands. He was still drying them as he made his way to me. I looked up at the sound of his footsteps. He knelt in front of me. His hands touched mine.

"I am just so tired," I said, feeling a few tears fall. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he insisted.

He leaned forward to press a kiss to my forehead.

"Burnout, while unpleasant, is becoming very common," he continued. "I will help you through it. I promise."

I nodded.

"I hope you know that there are no circumstances in which you would need to keep this from me."

I nodded again. "I know."

He leaned in and kissed my lips gently. Just enough to put my mind in a state of calmness. Enough to allow my eyes to close and my shoulders to relax.

"I love you," I mumbled as he pulled away.

"I love you too," he explained. "More than I believe words could describe."

I smiled a bit at him.

How lucky I was to have someone that made me feel as safe as he did.

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Author's Note: That gif of Will was a choice and it was a choice that I made very carefully.

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[bluegekk0]

I wonder, in all this years were Grimm was wandering between the mortals, did he never met another God or God-Like being he could possibly fell in love with? Or did it just never clicked with them?

Yeah he had trouble connecting with them. He was definitely in the minority when it came to gods who felt disconnected from their Godhood the way he was. Not to mention, he was quite widely known as the exiled god, so many of them didn't want anything to do with him - whatever happened between him and his sister was none of their business, and most of them assumed he had to have done something to deserve being banished.

There were some who didn't completely cross him out on that basis. Some of them he even had brief casual relationships with - WL was one of them, years before she married FPK they hooked up once or twice, but they couldn't stand each other's personalities so it never went further than that. She was too self-absorbed, he was too chaotic and rebellious, so they naturally clashed. It was clear that, aside from physical attraction, there was nothing between them that could make it work.

And the same was true for his interactions with other gods who didn't chase him away. He just couldn't connect to them, most of them had physical forms but they didn't share his fondness for the mortals and their way of life. They wanted to be surrounded by worshippers, they wanted to be in positions of power. And Grimm? He just wanted to enjoy life. Even his Troupe, bound to his Nightmare King self, were more like a crew or even a family to him, he didn't see himself as their god, someone to be worshipped. All he wanted was to bring them together, to help them find a new life in exchange for their help with the ritual, and above all, he wanted their company.

It's why his first love was a mortal, and why afterwards it was difficult for him to open himself to love again, he realized his options were limited. But then FPK showed up in his life, a lightning in a bottle, an immortal being who wasn't a true god. Just like Grimm, he was disconnected from the Gods' Plane and their matters, and cared very deeply for the mortals he swore to protect. He had the immortality of a god, but the soul of a regular bug. It's no surprise their first meeting filled Grimm with a new hope. After all, there was someone out there he could connect with, someone who could be his soulmate.

Is it possible that he would eventually find someone other than FPK? Perhaps, if he kept searching, there would be someone. But what's more likely is that he would give up looking for love, especially if his attempts only led to heartbreaks. I mean, FPK's disappearance left in him in a terrible spot and he couldn't get over it for all those 35 years. And it would only get worse with time.

I like this aspect of him, this over-dependence on FPK. You'd expect that to only be true from FPK's side of things, with how much his mental well-being depends on Grimm's presence, but it actually goes both ways. They couldn't live without one another, and both have good reasons to be this way. It's the kind of relationship that would be seen as unhealthy in real life, but is very engaging to think about in fiction. And there's a lot of angst potential too, which just spices things up.

#ask stuff #feral pk au #save #grimm

[jedi-lothwolf]

AI-less Whumptober Day 10: Mouth Stitched Shut (Alt Prompt 21)

Fandom: The Dragon Prince

Summary: Finnergrin gets tired of Callum trying to use magic to kill him, so he takes it into his own hands.

  "Fulminis!" Callum shouted. He aimed the attack at Finnergrin. A strong hand grabbed his wrist and the lightning shot up towards the sky. Then the world went dark.

    When Callum woke up he looked around. He was back under the deck of the Sea Legs. "Great" he mumbled.

    Finnergrin removed his feet from his desk and started to walk over to him. "That was quite the show you put on." He pulled something out of his pocket. It was a small box with a gold trim. "As much as I would like to see that again, I think this will be for the better."

    Callum fought against his chains as Finnergrin opened the box. Whatever was in it was clearly not a good thing. He was surprised when he pulled out a needle.

    "What's that for?" Callum almost wanted to laugh but he knew he'd regret it if he did.

    "This is a needle. In this box I have stitches. If you can't talk, you're no threat." Yep, not funny.

    Callum tried to fight back. He pulled against his chains until his wrists burned. A crew member was instructed to come down to hold the mage in place.

    Finnergrin kneeled on Callum's legs. He loomed over him. He took the needle and the crew member snapped his head into place. "please don't do this! I'll give you the spell!" Callum shook.

    "The time for that has passed my boy. You reap what you sow." The boy tried to raise his legs. He tried to pull his body forward. When he ran out of options he tried to use magic.

    Before he got the chance to open his mouth, Finnergrin had already grabbed his bottom lip and was about to make the first stitch.

    The silver needle met with Callum's pail skin. It glided through his flesh. His eyes water both out of fear and pain.

    He never stopped fighting. As the needle went through his skin, he kept trying to escape. Tears fell from his eyes but they never softened. Hate and anger and a hit of fear was the only story they told. He tried to open his mouth but Finnergrin moved his other hand to hold his jaw.

    The stitches glided though his skin. They silenced him. Callum didn't like being silenced. It hurt sure but that would be temporary. This, this could be permanent. He had no intent of letting it be.

    When Finnergrin finished the last stitch he chuckled. "I admire your determination. He grabbed a rag from his desk and dipped it in some water.

    The mage noticed the taste of blood for the time. The only thing he could do was swallow it. Callum started to wonder what was next. He couldn't eat, he couldn't drink. At least not yet. He wouldn't let this be what took him down. He still needed to take down Aaravos, bring Rayla's parents back, and see Ezren grow up.

     Finnergrin put the rage on Callum's face and held it there for a moment. He took it away and looked at the crewmate. "Take him to see his friends."

    The crewmate unchained him from the poll and took him above deck. Callum stood angerly. His shoulders never dropped. His eyes were still filled with anger. Being angry felt easier than being scared.

    "Callum!" Ezren screamed.

    "What did you do to him?!" Rayla yelled, trying to go to him.

    "Are you okay?" Soren asked, trying to remain calm.

    Callum nodded. When he tried to say he was fine, he felt the stitches tug. "What's happen'?" Velads asked. 

    "Callum's mouth has been sawn shut" Soren told him.

    "Well, that's a problem."

    "No, it thought it was fine!" Rayla scowled.

    Callum tried to stop them. Ezren saw and calmed them down. Mostly.

    "It's going to be okay." Soren looked at the others. "He's going to be okay."

    No one knew what to do. Finnergrin came back from below deck and smiled. "Like my hand work?"

    "Why you little-" Rayla started before looking over at Ezren and chuckling nervously.

    Callum tried to walk over to his family. He couldn't reach them. It was starting to get dark. If they didn't find a way out Aaravos would be released and everything they love would be thrown into chaos. But what could they do? They had to think fast. Time never seemed to be on their side.

Part 2: _____

#mouth stitched shut #whump #the dragon prince #tdp finnegrin #callum #sorry buddy #dragon prince #callum whump #the dragon prince whump #ai less whumptober

[talesofsonicasura]

His Past

This is my entry for an event on a Discord server. If you want any info about the server in question then go check out @niouffi 's blog here on Tumblr. The Sun Wukong here can be whatever iteration you'll feel makes sense. Anyway please enjoy!

There was always something mystical about rain. It appears during a time of sorrow, to bring life to a dead wasteland, bring warning in the thunderous form and bring omens whether it be good or bad. Rain never came without a partner in some shape or form.

Upon a sacred temple, a place where various immortals learn and share their invaluable knowledge, rain decided to pay a monumental visit. To these wise ancient beings the sudden change in weather got everyone on high alert as the ocean nearby grew furious with once peaceful waves now a threat to ill prepared ships. An unnatural storm from how quick it appeared without warning.

Yet, there was one soul who watched this turbulence of nature with pure curiosity. A young woman with hair as blue as lapis held in two wild ponytails and a lower leg made of pure metal bearing resemblance to a bear. Clothing that told all who saw her one simple thing: she doesn't belong. A sentiment that the lady, Velanova Perse, could agree with no hostility.

It didn't help that she's mortal, thus making any chance to take sanctuary in this temple highly unlikely. Her metal leg would only bring unwanted questions just like her appearance so Sora took shelter in a small cavern forged into the cliffside by countless erosion. At that moment, she sat on the beach not too far from the temple watching the furious sea and the harsh rain in wonder.

A tarp made out of sewn together cloth kept her protected from the elements but also the sudden flashes of lightning. "Quite a fierce storm…just the way I like them." Her voice held a vibrant bounce to its soft honey sweet tone and airy pitch. A smile pressed firmly on Velanova's lips upon another flashing lightning bolt.

It quickly left her as a harsh beam of light struck the temple stairs. There was no sound nor any destruction. Something is coming. Whatever it may be, the young woman could feel a strange pull on her heart. Almost if someone or something is beckoning her. For a moment, Velanova carefully followed the call as she approached the temple.

She didn't get too close, just enough so the cyanette could peek around the corner and properly see the stairs. The woman shielded her eyes when another beam of light struck the beginning of the staircase. In a single moment, Velanova felt her heart tremble as a figure became visible within the dying pillar.

A monkey, specifically the demon/yaoguai kind, chocolate brown fur paired with a wild mane of hair from what she could make out. A powerful regal aura emitting from his still breathing form, the presence of a king. Velanova didn't stay long as she heard the shouts of 'Shifu', no doubt the students that live in the temple. She quickly ran before anyone could notice her eavesdropping form. The woman will probably not see the monkey again.

However the monkey who appeared in the light didn't leave upon awakening. He decided to stay at the temple for unknown reasons as Velanova would often catch glimpses of him. Whether she is foraging for food or watching the sea, the cyanette saw the monkey's figure. A foolish mistake on her part…

What Velanova didn't know was that the temple's newest occupant had seen her as well. The monkey wasn't just any yaoguai, he is the Handsome Monkey King, Sun Wukong. He had been flying to his home, Mount Huaguo, only for a strange unnatural storm to sweep him up. A force so potent that not only did it knock him off his Somersault Cloud but also unconscious.

Sun Wukong would think he was lucky to land at the seaside temple but it didn't feel like that. Upon returning to the conscious world, the Monkey King felt a powerful tug on his heart. A calling of some nature as it led him to the courtyard. And then he saw it… A woman with hair bearing a unique shade of lapis lazuli.

She was quick to disappear before he could follow her. Yet, this didn't stop Sun Wukong from spotting this peculiar lady again. The monkey would catch glimpses of her just long enough to draw a picture. Every sighting would add another detail to this mysterious cyanette. He had asked questions about someone living outside the temple to both its master and students. Every single one was completely clueless on the strange lady.

At this point, Sun Wukong had everything but the lower half of her legs fully drawn out. From the strange white shirt paired alongside a peculiar tealish green open hanfu, tealish green trousers, to even the strange accessories on her clothes. His favorite part had been the mysterious woman's eyes.

Greener than emerald yet held a shade to that of an apple. It didn't take much longer for the Monkey King to come to a decision. He must seek out this peculiar woman and unfold the mystery behind her.

Sun Wukong's quest had quickly become clear to Velanova. And the Perse woman wanted nothing to do with the monkey. It first began when she was hunting a wild boar. A sane person would steer clear of such an animal while unarmed but Velanova wasn't normal.

The woman held a unique power of her, to bring things to life using her mind. One such item being a special deck of cards that was always on the woman's person. Each card depicts fierce monsters to powerful spells and even dangerous traps. Velanova's deck shared one unique element to the cards it held, toys.

Childhood playthings that are cherished deeply but slowly grow hateful at the concept of being forgotten. Since it was only a simple boar, one monster would suffice for now. This creature is a giant teddy bear barely a foot taller than her with pink fluffy fur, white angel wings and a red handkerchief around his neck.

Her beloved Fluffal Bear that the cyanette affectionately calls 'Beary'. A childhood friend who at the moment helps her hunt for food. Velanova currently sat on the toy bear's back as he chased after the fleeing boar. At first the large beast stubbornly fought back but only earned deep gashes to the side for its trouble.

Beary however was unaffected from the boar's tusk enforced charges. It realized that fighting the toy is completely useless and went to flee. Velanova wasn't going to let her food stock for the month run away though.

She grabbed a large tree branch from a nearby tree and steady her arm. Once Beary got close enough, the woman then tossed the stick like a javelin. It soars through the air before crashing down on her intended target: the boar's hind legs. The large animal tripped on its feet from the sudden hit and gave Beary the chance for the final strike.

"Attack with Teddybear Pummel!" Massive plush paws came down on the boar's head as the toy bear had struck from above with a neatly timed hammer drop technique. The animal immediately grew silent because Beary's strength was enough to form a crater upon impact. Velanova happily leapt off her companion so she could tie it to a makeshift sled for transport.

From there, they would carry it back to their cavern home and have it prepped for preserves such as jerky. An idea put on hold when Beary had come to a halt halfway through their route. The bear's nose twitching made it clear to Velanova that someone was following them.

A correct assumption upon a voice coming from the trees. "Wings of white on the back of a bear whose more toy than pure flesh. Quite a fitting companion to a lady equally as peculiar." There sitting on the branch above is the monkey yaoguai from before. Tail moving in a curious motion as yellow slitted eyes look down on her frame.

"How long have you been watching me Mr. Monkey?" He chuckled mischievously at the little nickname given. "As long as those pretty greens were looking at me! Guess the looks of the Handsome Monkey King charmed thy lady." Velanova instantly paled upon recognizing that this isn't your normal yaoguai.

The woman read about him once; his feats, his sins, and his entire story. Sun Wukong had been watching her as she had been watching him… Absence of the circlet on his head alongside the simple tatter monk garments gave Velanova enough warning to RUN.

The Monkey King was thrown off upon Beary bolting away in seconds. He could ponder why they ran later because his interest at the moment is running away! Sun Wukong somersaults off the tree with his noble cloud forming underneath his feet as he begins his pursuit.

Velanova took a peek behind her to see the stone monkey catching up to them. It didn't matter if Beary dropped the boar or not. Sun Wukong would still catch the two. Only chance she had was a more magical one.

Velanova quickly reached for her deck to grab a card. The one she hopes could keep the two of them outta Sun Wukong's reach. A single swift movement as the cyanette looks at the card she drew. Monkey King was now close to reach out and grab the woman's shoulder.

Close to see the small smirk cross her lips. And close enough to being greeted by a magenta violet card before his face. "Emergency Evacuation Device!" Just three mere words to make the Handsome Monkey King vanish from being touched by the light of the card.

In three words, Sun Wukong would soon find himself back on Mount Huagao. To his people being brutally attacked and tortured by an invading demon lord. Far away from the strange woman who had escaped his grasp. The Monkey King could only ponder about such peculiar magic as he taught his people to defend themselves.

He wants to go back, to find her again but Sun Wukong needed his children to be in good fighting condition first. Taking a single year at best for every monkey on Mount Huagao to become a fully adept fighter with four generals to lead them properly in battle. A year to map out just where that sea temple is. And a year to plan on how to catch this mysterious sorceress.

Sun Wukong will find her then take her back to his mountain. So many wonders shouldn't be lost to the passage of time. Mysteries to share not just between him but his various children living in their paradise of fruits and flowers. It was time to catch this peculiar lady.

Over a year had passed after Velanova sent the Monkey King away. She ended up having to stay low for a few weeks as Sun Wukong hadn't been sent back to the temple by her Trap Card. He must've gone to Mount Huagao for the temple dwellers had gone on a wide search to find their missing guest.

A few times her cavern would've been spotted if she didn't distract the hunting party away. Currently it is around the start of winter at the moment. Terrible weather for Velanova as the mechanism in her metal leg would often freeze itself stiff from the cold.

It was important to gather materials for fire and makeshift clothing or blankets to stay warm before snowfall. She's currently collecting firewood, her prosthetic wrapped tightly in wolfskin in an effort to keep it warm. Velanova had a pack filled with sticks on her back.

Clinking behind the cyanette is another monster but this wasn't as adorable as her large pink teddy bear. A mangled toy wolf twice her size whose eyes were dead bulging blue plastic with a glowing pink pair inside the darkness of the lazily stitched fang filled mouth, small scissors in it's cotton torn legs and a large pair of gold bladed scissors in between the split midriff held the torn body together as the beast pulls a sled full of wood similar to a sled dog.

"We got a good haul today, Wolfie. Another one just like this and we'll be set until January." The large Frightfur Wolf barked happily at the praise given as its torn tail wagged excitedly behind. It however grew stiff and began to growl in a defensive manner. Velanova knew this type of behavior meant one thing. Sun Wukong was coming.

She had gone towards her toy companion only to be met with a gale of harsh wind halfway there. The woman felt the missing weight of her jacket but most importantly her deck. Velanova could barely blink as she watched an uprooted tree smack down on Wolfie. The toy is now trapped under the weight of the tree and can only whimper when two familiar furry arms wrap around his master's waist.

Her green eyes met the bright amused gold of the Monkey King as he held the cyanette firmly in his arms. Monk clothing now replaced by beautiful golden silk robes with silver peach tree depicting embroidery, a crimson cape fluttering behind and velvet red hanfu around his midriff. "Passage of time appears to not wash over thy lady. A beast made from the butchered remains of a children's toy is quite a sight. I do apologize for having to pin your noble companion and swipe your magic cards."

Sun Wukong's mouth fell shut when the wolfskin around Velanova's leg came loose. His eyes now see the pink metal of where her leg should be. "What…What is this? Thy mortal puzzle… where is the flesh of your leg? Is it coated in this metal bear foot?" Sun Wukong saw bitterness and sorrow bloom in the woman's eyes. A small gleam of water on those green orbs but no risk of tears.

"I lost it a long time ago. This prosthetic is needed if I want to walk properly again. The cold will freeze it and should that happen…" Velanova's words registered quick for the stone monkey took the beautiful red hanfu and wraps her metal leg with it. He didn't stop there for his cape quickly wrapped around her form. The silk threads were so warm to the touch.

"To think one could face the hardships of nature's cruelty for so long while incomplete. Enduring like a grand tree against the relentless disasters wrought by time. Such a remarkable puzzle you are thy lady." Velanova felt her face reddened upon the Monkey King's words.

She watches Sun Wukong's tail split the tree trapping her precious Wolfie to splinters in a mere flick. His eyes never left her visage at all even when the Frightfur Wolf could now attack him. Yet Velanova kept the toy wolf still and calm.

"Let me take you back to my mountain of flowers and fruits. Unravel the mysteries behind your iron strong will down to your mortal body. Just give the name that you kept from the Handsome Monkey King so all of us can depart." The woman immediately stared at the stone monkey in shock.

"Time has no meaning to old Sun with distance barely existent. This monkey's patience can last three summers before thy puzzle no longer stays adamant on this patch of land. I wish for this departure to be in mutual agreement rather than through force." Sun Wukong isn't the type to lie about it either.

He could easily snatch Velanova without a single word of diplomacy whenever he wanted. At this moment, the woman didn't know what to say. Her mind buzzed for some kind of answer to the Monkey King's request. Even her dear Wolfie grew still in anticipation for his dear partner's command.

What happened to be a few minutes felt like decades to the cyanette. Velanova then decided to let the strange sensation in her heart to choose. The constant pull that plagued the woman throughout the entire year soon made sense at last. An answer she had ignorantly overlooked for so long.

"Velanova Perse." Those amber slits widened in a flicker of emotions. "My name is Velanova Perse of Heartland City." A large merry smile full of sharp teeth engulfed the Monkey King's face. In mere seconds the large mangled wolf shifts into a violet light that bounces into the woman's open hand. A violet framed card that held Wolfie's visage now between her fingers before being placed back into the deck.

"Velanova Perse of Heartland City… Such a fitting name for a wonderful puzzle of a lady. Show your temporary dwellings so thy belongings can be retrieved. A guest to my mountain shouldn't come without their precious trinkets and keepsakes." His tail slither around her waist with no resistance. Velanova presented the Handsome Monkey King with a sincere smile.

"I will be happy to oblige."

This is my first time writing Sun Wukong's dialogue like this. It's an attempt at doing OG Sun Wukong's speech pattern from Journey To The West. Velanova Perse is actually an older OC who I revamped earlier last year. Her first appearance being in a Devil May Cry/Yu-Gi-Oh crossover.

Basically she's a psychic that uses her trusty Frightfur Deck both in and out of duels. I might actually make this a fic than just a one shot. Until next time folks, I'll see you back on the journey west. Here's Velanova alongside her dear Beary.

#sun wukong #fanfic #tales of sonicasura #sonicasura #oc #jttw #journey to the west #canon x oc #velanova perse #sun wukong x oc #monkey king reborn #hero is back #nezha reborn #stephen chow journey to the west #yu gi oh duel monsters #yu gi oh #discord event #adventures from china monkey king #adventures from china #jttw 1996 #jttw 96 #lego monkie kid

[never-surrender]

As promised to Astarion.

Fireball, lightning bolts, thunderwave—each spell Gale cast was executed with ease and expert aim, timing his incantations perfectly. In moments like these, he felt like the powerful archmage he once was. The battle was nearing a close, and with remarkable luck, neither he nor Astarion received anything more than a graze.

In a way, it almost felt too easy. When the last of the cultists fell, Gale spun on his heels to glance up at Astarion on the ledge above with a victorious grin. They made a good fighting pair, it seemed. Perhaps it was their bond that helped, at least from Gale's perspective. The care he held for Astarion forced him to fight harder, to protect the man he loved—a word he dared not whisper to the other yet.

But with his back turned from the battleground, the smile faltered as the sound of metal meeting flesh rang through his ears. His breath was forced out of his lungs as his heartbeat stuttered. He felt no pain, just numbness, as his eyes fell down to see the tip of an arrow protruding from his chest. One cultist remained long enough to fire a final arrow at the wizard. Gale had made a mistake—a potentially fatal one.

"Oh…" His voice carried a hint of surprise as he absentmindedly poked the tip of the arrowhead before the weight of his injury finally registered in his mind, and his knees buckled beneath him.

Perched on high, Astarion was a commendable sniper, his accuracy nearly second to none as each cultist fell to either his arrow or to Gale's magic. They made quite the pair, if he did say so himself, and quite frankly between the two of them these damn cultists didn't stand a chance in hell. Not that they had to be cultists for Astarion to murder them... but it certainly made it easier to do so.

With the last of them felled, or so he thought, Astarion drops down with ease from the perch he had commandeered, a grin on his features as he meets Gale's eye... though a motion catches his gaze. Shifting, Astarion's eyes widen before he's drawing his bow, teeth bared in a savage expression as he fires his weapon...

Too late.

The last cultist died just as Gale is impaled.

"Gale..!" his name is filled with alarm, cursing as he looks desperately at the arrow that protruded from Gale's form. "What do I-" he doesn't have a chance to ask, before he instinctively goes to catch Gale's falling form. He's no strong man... but adrenaline does wonders in the moment. "Hang on, Gale..." he urges the wizard, moving to wrap his hand around the arrow...

And yanks it out.

He wasn't one too knowledgeable on human medical practices after all. Lowering them both to the ground, Astarion cradles Gale's head on his lap as he reaches around to his pack, producing a large healing potion. Lifting Gale's head with his free hand, he places the opening of the bottle against Gale's lips. "Drink," he urges, his tone bearing no room for argument... the least he could do is get Gale stable enough to bring back to Shadowheart to heal.

#galefcrce #( Astarion + Gale )

[casspurrjoybellbittner]

Wreckless - Light Street Apartments

*Warning Adult Content*

By the time Emmett Locke punched in the gate code to the apartment complex on Light Street, which Finnegan Walker had kindly provided, he felt a bit like he'd driven onto movie set. He'd lived in Baltimore his whole life, apart from a several years spent mostly overseas but he'd never been in this section of town and was pretty sure nothing this nice had existed in Baltimore even five years ago. He found Finnegan's assigned spot, passed by a swanky fitness room that he would have loved to use and pushed the elevator button for the fourth floor. He couldn't help but smooth down the front of his shirt and run his fingers through his hair before walking down the hallway towards apartment 4B.

"Oh hi. You made good time. One second," Finnegan said, by way of greeting, when he opened the door.

Before Emmett could answer, he held one finger up and was talking into the headset he was wearing. Emmett stood awkwardly at the door, not sure if he was supposed to go in or not. On one hand, he had been nice enough to fix Finnegan's car and drive the whole way over here but on the other hand, a man's home was his castle and he wasn't about to go barging in when the two of them had gotten off on the wrong foot. With his luck, Finnegan would call the cops although he had no doubt that this building had its own security.

Instead of just looking busy, Emmett actually tried to accomplish something and pulled up the bus routes to find out which he'd need to catch. He didn't like the look of the sky out of the floor to ceiling windows and was hoping to get onto the bus before it started pouring. Or maybe, just maybe, he'd get lucky and Andy would return his call.

"Sorry," Finnegan cooed, motioning Emmett inside.

"Work. Thank you so much for bringing my car here."

Emmett held out the keys towards him and he took them gladly, wondering for just a second if he should go down and make sure the car was actually fixed before assuming this mess was over with.

"You probably have a ride waiting. I didn't mean keep you."

"Buses come and go, no worries."

And it was true, Emmett wasn't worried about rain, he was much more worried about the state of Finnegan's face.

"Did you put some ice on that?"

"No and no frozen peas either but it's fine."

As if God himself was striking down the lie that had fallen easily from Finnegan's lips, lightning flashed so brightly that the entire room lit up. Getting wet didn't bother him but lightning, on the other hand, was a huge worry for Emmett. He turned his head away from the windows and braced himself for the thunder that would soon follow.

"Are you okay?" Finnegan inquired.

"Wait, did you say a bus? You can't go out in this."

Emmett stuck his hands in his pockets and took a slow, deep breath before opening his eyes.

"I'm fine."

Finnegan wasn't sure why they were both lying but he only had a second to think about it because what came out of his mouth next was a much bigger conundrum.

"I'm going to cook dinner if you want to stay and wait out the storm. Or I could drive you back, I think."

The idea of driving hadn't appealed to him an hour ago and it certainly didn't sound like a good idea now that it was pouring rain.

"Let's eat. It's the least I can do after you fixed my car."

Emmett couldn't quite figure out what had sparked the change in attitude but maybe Finnegan was just a much nicer guy when he was wearing jeans that fit him like a second skin and a long-sleeved tee that had a huge M on it. He felt like he should recognize the symbol but didn't. Granted, accidents rarely brought out the best in people and maybe he had judged him too quickly. He just didn't seem like the kind of person Emmett would ever, ever hang around with. Finnegan was already rooting around in the fridge and he felt like he had to say something.

"So, this is a nice place."

"I rented it mostly for the kitchen. It's amazingly difficult to find a really nice kitchen in Baltimore."

"It's difficult to find a really nice anything in Baltimore," Emmett scoffed.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

He'd been fairly sure before but now there was no doubt.

"No, Michigan."

Ah, Emmett realized that the M on his shirt was definitely the Michigan Wolverines logo.

"Are you allergic to anything?" Finnegan asked, turning towards him.

"No."

"Vegetarian? Vegan? Kosher? Halal? Picky?" he asked, counting them off as he raised each finger of his left hand before turning back to his cutting board.

Emmett wondered if Finnegan was always this thorough but he couldn't help but be amused.

"I'll eat whatever you put in front of me, Finnegan."

He turned, paring knife in hand and a mocking grin spread across his face when he saw Emmett's reaction.

"I was just going to say that you've seen the inside of my car and now you know where I live, so I guess you can call me Finn."

And why was that, he wondered. He'd spent the last four months pushing people away and now all of a sudden he had decided to open up his home to a stranger who had caused him so much distress? Either he was lonelier than he realized or really needed to get laid, he thought, chuckling to himself.

Alas... Mr. buff here had at best a 50/50 chance of playing for his team. It was a shame, really, he decided and then surprised himself at thinking that way at all. Emmett was definitely not his type and even if he was, Finnegan knew he was in no shape to be wooing anyone tonight. He looked like a drunk hooker had rubbed her purse on his face, for fuck's sake. When Finnegan pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, Emmett couldn't help but gasp.

"You've got ink."

Nothing could have surprised him more. It wasn't a little bit either, both of his forearms were completely covered.

"Oh, yeah. Almost have both sleeves done. A bit of work left to do on my right shoulder."

"How does that...? How do you...?" Emmett mumbled, stumbling over his thoughts.

"You're such a prep."

"I guess that's a step up from punk but you know, Emmett, you shouldn't judge a book by its' cover. I mean, if I had judged you like that, I never would have let you into my house. I'm surprised someone who looks like you do... is so close-minded."

He had a point but Emmett wasn't quite finished.

"So what's with the monkey suit?"

"It's called a job, Emmett."

It was hard enough getting the respect he deserved even when he was dressed to the nines, there was no way he could get away with wearing business casual, not at his age.

"Sorry, no, you're right. I guess I just had this image in my head of you getting out of that roadster with the shirt and tie and handing me a fancy business card and you're right, I shouldn't have assumed."

He had no idea what Finnegan had sizzling on the top of the stove but it smelled divine.

"That smells really good. Do I still get to eat or should I go?"

Finnegan deglazed the pan with half a bottle of white wine and sighed, turning around.

"I'm sorry. I had a very long week and a rather rough day and that probably came out harsher than it should've. We don't know each other, no worries."

"But maybe we should," Emmett voiced before his brain could stop him.

Finnegan smiled, adjusted his estimate to 80/20 and reconsidered his earlier thoughts about Emmett, quickly deciding that types were boring.

"Maybe you're right."

[gazrgaley]

A Day at the Park (chapter 18)

A few days had gone by since Milo had changed her. She found herself distracted, looking at herself in the mirror. She still couldn't believe it; the marks and blemishes left behind by diseases and worse had vanished. She was flawless, pristine. The only scar that remained was that of the punctures he had left on her neck, and those were a source of pride.

She turned back to the envelope before her on the writing desk. It was time again for her to send the usual bank notes to her husband overseas. Her mind was not on her husband, though, but on the other man in her life. She found herself smiling when she thought of him.

A thought came to her as she wrote out the envelope. He couldn't hurt her anymore. His men wouldn't stand a chance. It would be months before he could know for sure what had happened, and months longer before he could even try to do anything about it. She had no reason to send him the money. What would happen if she just... didn't?

But before she could change her mind, she had already addressed and sealed the envelope. She was still under his thumb. Her cheeks reddened in anger.

As she sat upon her stool, contemplating murder, she felt a slight breeze pass by like a whisper in her ear. She didn't think much of it until that breeze began to speak. "Good evening, Isabel," Milo said.

She turned to see him bent just inches from her ear. She jumped back, almost falling from her seat. He smiled, as he always did. She wanted to look angry, but it didn't quite reach her smiling eyes.

Milo glanced at the envelope upon the table. Without invitation he picked it up to examine it. "I thought you would no longer be sending these to him," he said quietly. "What can he do if you don't?"

"I know!" she snapped. She jerked the envelope out of his hand, blushing and fuming. "I... I just... " There was no justification. She could protect herself and her girls from any trouble he might bring. She hated him. She wanted nothing to do with him. Whatever she told herself, she knew that she'd made her choice so that she could stand up for herself, so she wouldn't have to be scared all the time. She glared at the envelope. "I've failed you, haven't I?"

Milo shook his head and lifted her chin. "No," he assured her. "There is a lot you will have to do before you'll understand just how strong you truly are." She nodded, but he cut her off with a cold glare. "Don't ever speak to me that way again. We are equals, Isabel. You cannot fail me. You can only fail yourself."

Isabel's jaw dropped. "I know how strong I am," she hissed. "Nothing can touch me!"

He only grew colder. "Is that so?" he purred.

"Yes," she said certainly, "and I will not have you speak to me as though—"

He touched her arm. Wind rushed by, turning the walls to a blur of colour. In a blink they were in the street, surrounded by tall, extravagant buildings. It was a wealthier part of town than her own. In fact, she...

Her fingers snared Milo's arm. She stared up at the building before her. "Take me home," she whispered ."I want to go home."

She knew exactly where she was. The building before her, locked away behind a dark stone wall and a wrought-iron gate, presenting white marble columns kept clean of the soot in the air, sparkling with brass fixtures on every door and window... She had avoided this place for the past twenty years. This was the place they called home, the lodge of the Brass Lions Club.

"Why?" Milo said, so quietly even she could barely hear it, but the words struck her like lightning. "I thought you said nothing could touch you."

She pulled on his arm, but he didn't budge. "I need to go!" she hissed. "Please!"

"If that's what you want."

As quickly as they'd arrived, they were back in Isabel's rooms. She leaned over the writing desk, panting.

Milo spoke from where he stood at the doorway, and she tried not to jump at the sound of his voice. "You'll never be free until they're dead," he said firmly.

She glared at him. "It's a good thing I am immortal, then," she replied. "They will be dead soon enough."

Milo only stared. It wouldn't be that easy; she knew it to be true. Even after they died they would live on in her head, where she couldn't escape them. They would torment her for the rest of her life, which was looking to be a very, very long time.

"You could always do something about it," he suggested. There was a darkness in his eyes that made her mouth run dry. "You could dispose of them. I will, of course, accompany you for moral support, but it should be you who does the honors."

The thought had never crossed her mind. She knew that killing would be a part of her life. She had to feed. The hunger was distant, but it was growing every day. It was only a matter of time before she lost her composure. She would maintain her control, even if in the smallest ways.

Them, though... She wasn't afraid of a club of old men; she was afraid of the idea, of what they were. They wouldn't surprise her again. She had the strength to see them again on her own terms. Happiness bloomed in her heart. Part of her wondered what their blood would taste like.

She'd made up her mind. She'd set the date. She'd thought it all through, plotted, fantasized. In spite of it all, though, when the day came, Isabel found herself riddled with anxiety. She stormed through the brothel, putting everything and everyone in its place with words sharp enough to cut and a glare sharper still. A few of her girls sat quietly, watching, wanting to ask what was wrong. None dared to speak.

She knew better, but she felt that they might rush into her home and business at any moment. They surely must have learned of her plans. Somehow they would have gotten the upper hand.

By the time Milo arrived, she had fixed her hair half a dozen times and had gone to and from her vanity desk too often to count. He greeted her without a word, obviously eager for the night's events. Despite his offer, Isabel insisted on taking it slow, walking to their destination at her own pace. Her stomach was in knots. She wanted it to be over, but she was in no hurry to get there.

The pair stopped at the street corner. Just down the street stood the stone wall, stained black with soot. "Tonight is your night, Isabel," Milo whispered in her ear. "I will follow your lead."

She didn't acknowledge him. Her hands shook. Her eyes darted from one side of the street to the other. A woman disappeared around the corner. A man passed by a window in the building opposite the lodge. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and jumped.

Her gloved hand brushed the wall as she glided up and over it. She couldn't breathe. They had practiced, but to leap higher than she was tall, to strip away the security these men surely felt in their den just as they had stripped away her own... Even when she touched down upon the grass on the other side, she felt lighter than the air.

She could already hear them speaking through an open window. It was the night of their monthly meeting. They would all be there, the men who had hurt her. It didn't matter, she realized as she sprinted across the lawns and pressed her back against the wall of the lodge. She'd left her fear behind on the other side of the wall.

Isabel slipped in through the window without a sound. The heads of beasts dotted the walls, from boars to bears to wolves in fierce repose, and their skins covered the floors. The men had their backs to her. They sat in plush armchairs facing the fireplace and spoke freely and without a care of conquest and opportunity, of business and of pleasure. Isabel didn't hear a word. Her eyes were on the man in the chair closest to the fire.

He had aged. They all had. His hair had gone white and receded to a thinning horseshoe. His cane was topped with the sculpted bust of a lion and his evening dress was of shining velvet the color of cabernet. His eyes were the same. Cold. Confident. Proud.

Slowly she rounded the chairs, taking in the sight of them. There were many new faces but, to her horror and her delight, all five of the men who had met her that day were there. Some of them leapt to their feet, protesting the presence of a woman in the room. Most only watched.

Conversation died as she took her place before the mantle, and the fire died with it. Milo had closed the window behind him and was silently making his way to the door, watching her with great interest. She breathed slowly through her nose and grinned, baring her new double-pointed canines. "Hello, boys," she said. The fire roared to life behind her, casting her shadow across the staring, furious faces. "Do you remember me?"

She could see it in their faces. Not a single one recognized her, not even the five she knew. "Explain yourself, woman!" barked one of the new lads.

Her heart broke. Her entire life was defined by that day, but to them she had merely been the game of the moment. It only made her hate them more. "That won't do," she said in a voice like ice. "I'll have to remind you." She reached behind her. Her fingers closed around the handle of the brass fireplace poker.

The man with the lion's-head cane chuckled low in his throat. The sound sent a chill down her back. "And what are you going to do, whore?" he said. His voice was lower, rougher, but as strong as ever. He stood and approached, the cane thumping against hardwood and bearskin. "Have you come back for more, then?"

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She tightened her grip on the poker.

The tip of his cane traced up her thigh. "You remember her, don't you, boys?" he said. His fingers slipped around her wrist and he pulled her off-balance, grabbing her in his embrace from behind. "Maybe you'd recognize her if her scars were showing."

She had lost control of her body. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. She was shaking so badly that she felt she might fall apart. She could feel his hand running up her thigh, slowly lifting her skirts.

He leaned in close to her ear. "There are a few more of us this time, pet. Let's just see if you last the night."

She bit her lip. Her sharp teeth punctured her skin. The pain brought with it a reminder that Isabel wasn't the girl she had been all those years ago. It wasn't just what Milo had done to her. She had always been strong enough to strike fear into the hearts of men who stepped out of line with her girls. Many already assumed that she was responsible for deaths uncounted. She was no one's pet.

Isabel closed her eyes and picked her heart up from the floor, where it had lain bloodied and beaten for so long. She glanced past the suits and armchairs to Milo. He only watched, curiously, encouragingly. She bared her teeth in a smile, spun in the man's grip, and pushed against his chest with all her newfound strength.

The man's breath escaped him with a grunt as he hit the tiles before the fireplace. He stared up at her in shock. Isabel ran the tip of the poker across his jawline. "You know, I suddenly understand why you did what you did to me all those years ago," Isabel mused. "This is quite invigorating."

"Do something!" the man on the floor howled. His hand scrabbled for his cane, just out of reach. "There are more of you than there is of her!" A flurry of motion brought the other men to their feet.

Isabel leaned down upon their leader. She parted her lips. Her teeth gleamed in the firelight. Before anyone could react, she bit down upon his neck and, with a jerk of her head that tossed her impeccable hair into disarray, she ripped out his throat.

Blood spurted across the room, soaking into the rugs. The men cried out and froze in horror as they watched Isabel rip their leader's head free from his shoulders. She let it dangle by the hair from her fingers as she stood and turned to face the rest of the room, tapping the poker against the ground like a cane of her own. The dread in their eyes was a heady sight. Her skin tingled with excitement. Finally, after two decades locked away in her own mind, Isabel knew freedom. She plunged the head down upon the poker and presented it to the crowd. "Who else needs a reminder?" she cried.

The room devolved into chaos.

She threw the head into the fireplace and lunged toward the first to move. The others shrieked in desperation, attacking her with their impotent fists in a futile gesture or dashing toward the door, where Milo was more than happy to greet them in the shadows he had wrought.

It took only minutes for the room to grow silent once more, littered with flesh and saturated with blood. "I'm quite impressed," Milo said as he met her in the middle of the room, carefully stepping around the bodies. "You did well, Isabel. They can hurt you no longer."

She stood in silence, staring at her hands, painted red to the elbows. She had killed so many people. She had murdered them in cold blood. Her heart was racing, pounding. She pressed her hands to her chest and swallowed the taste of their blood from her tongue.

"That's normal," Milo said. "We don't produce our own blood the way a human does. When we feed, the blood is fed into our veins. The more you consume, the faster your heart will beat."

She looked around the room, at the blood soaking her dress. "This is going to take a long time to clean up," she said, still in shock.

"Nonsense," he said with a smile. "We have people to deal with this sort of thing." He placed a small blue stone upon the ground. "They will take care of everything."

"Who?"

Milo shrugged. "I don't truly know how it works, or what the appropriate words for it might be. When someone leaves the stone behind, they come. I have never seen them—they won't come when the living are watching—but by the time they are finished, there will be no trace of blood or of the bodies it belonged to."

She nodded as if she understood. "But if you can just have someone clean up messes like this, why didn't you do that in the alley the other night? Why drag me out to the forest to feed the wolves?"

"I needed to know how you would take it," he said. There was the faintest hint of an apology in his tone. "If I simply made the problem go away, I would have taken away the impact of what you had done." He took Isabel's hand and squeezed it gently. "We need to feed if we are to live, but that doesn't make it any easier, especially for someone as young as you. It can become easier in time to detach yourself from them, but for now..." He glanced around at the bodies. "I'm sorry, but I wanted to see how you would handle it. I was testing you."

"Did I pass?" The words came out before she thought them through.

His smile returned, wider than she had ever seen it. "I turned you, didn't I?"

"Oh." She wondered for a moment if she should have been angry. The blood was still racing through her veins. Her head spun. She felt as though her heart had burst free of her chest and was fluttering into Milo's arms. His lips were so warm against hers.

She pushed him to the floor and tugged at his waistband, threatening to tear them in two. His hands traveled up her body, stroking her sides, and he began to lift her dress. She snared his hands in her own. "No," she said firmly, and she planted them on her hips. His grip tightened as she put her palms against his chest and began to move on top of him.

She examined herself in their mirror, fixing her hair once more and wiping at the blood on her chin in futility. Milo watched her from where he lay with his hands behind his head. "I wasn't planning for that to happen," he said.

"Well, obviously," she scoffed. "That was all me." She graced him with a smile and turned back to the mirror. "Don't expect it to happen again anytime soon."

"So I can expect it to happen again in the future?" he replied. "I'll wait." He let his eyes wander to the ceiling. "You know, Isabel, I have lived a long time. I have seen many gods, prophets, holy men. Not once did I believe a word they wrote or spoke." He studied her silhouette, clad in blue and red. "But if someone were to tell me that you were a goddess, I wouldn't for a moment hesitate to believe them."

Her cheeks reddened and she laughed in surprise. She wanted to kiss him, to stay in his arms. She wanted to tell him how much he meant to her. "Is that so?" she said as she reached down and offered him her arm. "You're more gullible than I'd thought."

The two left the scene, and in a matter of minutes, the bodies and blood did too. Apart from a pair of chairs tipped onto their sides and the displaced fireplace poker, there was no sign that any violence had taken place in the room that night.

They walked down the street arm in arm, careful to avoid other pedestrians who wouldn't take kindly to the sight of a couple covered in blood. Isabel leaned into Milo's shoulder. Suddenly she felt him tense against her, and when she looked up, his eyes were wide and distant. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"I don't know," he murmured. Milo looked down at her, and she could see the concern in his eyes. She felt the now-familiar rush of wind that led them to his flat. "I'm sorry, Isabel," he said, hurriedly unlocking the door and jerking it open, "but I need to go."

"Where?" She tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but he was moving too fast. "Can I help?"

"Stay here. Please."

She made as if to protest, but he looked at her with such sadness in his eyes that she held her tongue. She only nodded.

He closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in her bloodied dress.

Isabel stood there at the threshold for a long time. Finally, she made her way to the sofa and sat, hands in her lap. Her life had changed so fast, in so many ways. Perhaps a moment of silence was just what she needed to process the last week.

Throughout her entire life, she had never felt so lonely.

#warm blooded vampires series #vampyr #watpadd #original story #gaz042 #vampire writing

[paint-tastes-ok]

honestly now that i’m thinking about it. When i started shipping noehopu i really looked at all the characters in the series then said “the twinks please”

#they interact ONCE #but my stupid brain didnt care #before this i shipped hoperai #and that was a good time but i felt like lightning didn't quite... bring out the best in hope #sooo i moved on to the two characters who don't relate to each other almost at all :D #im like that one tweet #'must a ship have “canon backing”? is it not enough to simply smack your favorite characters together like barbie dolls' #paint thots

[aetherarf]

Headcanons about Xiao kitty? Like when you first adopt him or find him?

Ngl I have no ideas for this AU but

Lets just say he's a rlly smart cat for now and worry about the rest later.

Honestly? Traditional 'rainy day' story. He looked like a wet rat pulled from a sewer, and just... Pitifully dragged himself forward, seconds from just collapsing and accepting his fate. (Dramatic, he knows he'll be okay, he's just so upset and feels so dirty... He hates it.)

He sits next to a trash bin, just barely obscured by the rain, and just sits there, shivering and curling up on himself, sneezing over and over. If he could, he'd probably be crying. It at least looked like he was crying, with how wet he was and teary his eyes were...

(After all, when a cat cries, it's usually a sign of illness rather than actual sadness)

And a shadow falls over him, lightning strikes and makes the silhouette obvious. The rain is no longer still dotting him, and he looks up...

You.

He didn't think much, in fact, he was about to run, but he was scooped up too quickly, an umbrella keeping him from getting any wetter, and his muddy, filthy, soaked coat got your own clothes wet, too.

He struggled, hissing and spitting for a few seconds, and trying to worm his way out of your arms... He realized you were just hushing him, gently, "I promise, I won't hurt you... I just want to bring you somewhere warm."

Warm.

He hadn't been warm in a long time.

And so, begrudgingly, he behaved, watching where you were going, spotting escape paths if you suddenly started being aggressive. If you got a little to comfortable and tried being too cuddly, he smacked your hand for good measure.

He didn't trust you yet.

Brought into a building, and the umbrella set down (he spat in irritation as the water splashed onto him) and he was brought from room to room... Until he was set down on a rug, a rug over stone tiles. It was... Warm. Yes, warm. He'd tolerate this, and crouched down, watching as you fussed around with a big... Stone... Bowl?

In his warmth filled daze, so exhausted from the days and days of storms, he didn't hear the splashing of water.

And eventually, you picked him up, and he glared with anger.

He did not expect to be unceremoniously plopped straight into a body of water. Trying to scramble out, he was held firmly in place-

With your free hand, you scrubbed at his fur...

Oh.

Humans needed water to clean themselves and others, right. You were cleaning him of filth and grime.

As you poured some cold ooze onto him, he thought about this... And decided to tolerate it. He'd rather not taste whatever disgusting murk covered him. But he was sure to hiss a few times, so you knew he didn't like this.

The water slowly drained away, so it only just reached his belly, then his legs, then his paws, the only a fine wetness remained on the bottom, and you let go- he nearly escaped before you picked him up with a warm, soft cloth, scrubbing at his fur.

Drying him.

Humans did have some good things about them, he decided.

Again, he made sure to spit and hiss- he didn't like being fondled like a ragdoll! Eventually, you took him out of the cloth, he was still damp, but it would not be too long until he would dry by air alone.

"Good kitty," you praised, petting his head, and he almost bit your hand, but...

Oh.

He realized it felt quite nice, and when you pulled you hand away, he felt incredibly betrayed by that, reaching up and grabbing your hand, nuzzling against your palm, demanding the affection you just gave him.

With a coo, you pick him up, and begin petting him again, before setting him on a large mat of softness, and silky soft cloth... And, you laid down on the bed with him, fussing with some of the cloth, even as it shook him up a bit.

"C'mere," you said, patting the bed next to you.

...

He stared for a moment. He understood, but there was something else bothering him.

You...

...

Well, he hated saying this, but you took care of him. Saved him was far too generous, he would be fine on his own, but...

... would he be happy? As a pet?

He decided, this night, he would accept it.

(And the next night, he decided to stay too, since it kept raining. The third, the sun came, but it was far too wet. The fourth, it was dry, and he basked by the window. He ought to get a bit more food before he left.

The fifth, he forgot to give himself a reason not to leave, especially when you were so warm and nice to snuggle, and could scratch that one spot on the back of his neck just perfectly.)

#genshin impact #xiao #xiao x reader #cat!xiao #cat xiao #bark rambles #anon talk #anonymous

[enchantestuff]

cursed crown (1) - pierre gasly

in which sneaking into Pierres kingdom only means one thing

warnings: smut, royalty au so there's that, language maybe?

please please please let me know what you all think

“Are you alright?” you heard Pierre quietly call from the window above you. You had just arrived at his castle and were currently trying to climb up to the kitchen window, admittedly with no help from the prince himself.

“A little bit of help would be nice, Your Highness” you scoffed. Pierre laughed at the title you gave him but obliged nevertheless, leaning out of the window and stretching his arm downwards, waving it in front of your face teasingly. You rolled your eyes as you grabbed hold of it, “I thought I was supposed to be the mean one out of the two of us” you muttered when you finally climbed through the window and planted your feet firmly on the ground. You brushed some dirt away from your coat before finally meeting his beautiful blue eyes.

“Perhaps you're rubbing off on me, my lady,” Pierre grinned. He grabbed hold of your hand and quickly led the two of you out of the grand kitchen, carefully glancing across corridors and hiding behind walls as maids and a variety of guests walked through his pristine palace. You thought you would have been used to sneaking around his home by now, you had been doing it for months after all, but the trek from the kitchen to his bedroom was never an easy one. Even though Pierre had repeatedly confessed to you that this certain day of each month was the quietest, there still seemed to be countless people roaming the halls.

“I do quite hope you haven't acquired only my bad traits, Pierre,” you whispered, quickly glancing behind you as you ran up the stairs and into his bedroom. This was the riskiest part of your journey. The stairs that led up to his bedroom were open for anyone and everyone to see, whether it be from the inside balcony above or from the spacious hall below.

Pierre laughed at your comment, quickly shutting his bedroom door behind him and twisting his body around to face you. He placed his hands on your hips as he led you further into his bedroom. “Are you insinuating that you have any desirable qualities, my love?” he joked, his beloved silly grin quickly making its way onto his face causing your own smile to erupt on your own. These moments with Pierre were the only times you could truly be yourself and they didn't come around too often.

“Well of course, your highness” you smiled, snaking your hands up his arms to rest on his biceps. Pierre jokingly cocked an eyebrow at you, his hands trailing lower down your body, unable to keep them still for a second.

“And why is that?” he pondered, frowning slightly as you pulled away from him to take off your coat and climb onto his freshly made bed, getting comfortable in the silk sheets before peeking at him through your lashes.

“Because you crawl into bed with me every month” you teased. Your eyes trailed across his bedside table, smiling at the familiarity of it. Since the beginning of your late night rendezvous the contents of the table had never changed. There always lay a map of Othain, a journal which he had forbidden you to read and his beloved crown, the one that always lay atop of his head except during these moments with you and of course, when he was sleeping.

You carefully picked the crown up from where it lay and placed it onto your own head. It was much lighter than your own, less jewels scattered around it. It was a breath of fresh air. You didn't feel suffocated wearing it. Didn't feel weighed down by what it symbolized. “Now as your queen, i command you to come over here, for i have been deprived of your touch for far too long”

Pierre chuckled at your words, his steps towards his bed were deliberately slow. He knew how to tease you and from the glare you sent his way, he knew it was working. He crawled onto his bed, positioning himself on top of you and adjusting his crown on your head. “Well then, your majesty, I suspect that I am obliged to prove myself to you?” he jokingly questioned.

“Those are quite possibly the smartest words to leave your lips, my love” you commented. Unable to contain yourself any further, you pulled him towards you, finally connecting your lips after weeks apart from one another. Pierre didn't hesitate to kiss you back, but the short lasting kiss was not what you expected and a frown appeared on your face the minute he pulled away. “As much as I love your teasing, Pierre, I would really prefer it if you didn’t indulge in those habits right now.”

He smirked evilly as he trailed one of his hands down your thigh. “Is her majesty upset with my actions?” he pondered, his smirk not once leaving his face as he crawled further down the bed. Kisses were scattered across your thigh and the silent frustrated sigh that left your lips was a good enough answer for Pierre.

“Her majesty thinks she should get what she wants,” you selfishly spoke. You pulled lightly on Pierre's hair, a desperate attempt to get you closer to him again, to remove his lips from your thigh and place them on your own instead. Was that really too much to ask for?

“Well, I personally think she needs to stop being a brat and shut up for once in her life.” Your lips parted to scold him for his language but instead of rude comments, moans of pure delight seemed to leave your lips as Pierre attached his mouth to your core. He knew how to shut you up and for once in your life, you weren't complaining.

You tugged on his hair, pulling him closer into you as your head fell back in pleasure. Pierres crown slipped to fall beside you on the pillow but you paid it no mind as you felt pleasure pass through you like lightning bolts. “Oh Pierre,” you moaned as he lapped at your core similar to a man deprived of a meal. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Pierres fingers dug into your thighs as he moved to suck on your clit. “Shit,” you cursed as you felt the familiar knot begin to build in your stomach. After spending so much time with you and your body, Pierre believed he knew you inside out, which as a result meant he knew exactly when you were going to cum. He felt oh so evil as he brought you to your peak, only to pull away from you at the last second. The frown on your face was enough to make him feel slightly guilty. Only slightly.

“I am going to declare war on you, Pierre Gasly, '' you seethed, completely unsatisfied and now purely annoyed. You hadn’t trekked all the way to his kingdom in the middle of the night just for him to bring you towards the most amazing pleasure imaginable and leave you high and dry at the last moment.

“I'm afraid you don't have the power to do that yet, love” he grinned. He didn't give you any time to come up with a witty reply as he placed a chaste kiss to your lips before undressing himself in front of you.

“Is this your form of apologizing?” because well, it was working, there's just something about a handsome prince undressing before your very eyes that got you going.

“I was planning on making you cum over and over again, love” he spoke, stretching his arm out beside your head in order to place his crown back on your head. You looked so powerful with it on. You always looked powerful, but his own crown laying in your hair brought freshness to you that he didn't know was possible. It made his chest lighten and butterflies erupt in his stomach. It made him feel five again. “But if this is enough im happy to stop here and continue another time.”

You scoffed at him. Keeping one hand on the crown, you trailed your hand down your body, gripping onto your breast, maintaining eye contact with him as you did so, before moving further down your body. You ran your fingers up and down your folds, spreading the wetness gathered there before inserting one inside. “If you cant pleasure me, i guess i'll have to do it myself,” you muttered, knowing deep down that there was nothing Pierre hated more than you pleasuring yourself in front of him. It felt like a betrayal. Like he wasn’t enough.

Your plan succeeded spectacularly, as they always did, and in no time he was positioned on top of you, his tip teasingly brushing against your entrance. He dragged your hand away from your core and held it above your head. His grip was almost death-like and you found yourself relishing in the pain it brought.

“Don't doubt me for a second, love” Pierre grunted in your ear as he tapped his cock against your clit. You bit your lip at the sensation but allowed him to continue with his scolding. You knew there was nothing but love behind his words and so, to no surprise, you got more excited with each word that fell from his lips. “I think you know first hand the kind of pleasure I can bring you.” You gasped at the feeling of him filling you up. After nearly two weeks of not seeing each other, the sensation of him inside you was better than you had remembered. You transferred his crown onto his own head, an indication that whatever power you had over him was now practically non-existent. You were truly at his mercy.

“I'm sure you haven't forgotten the many times i've made you scream, love. I can do it again if your memory has begun to fail you.”

Pierre was always one to live up to his word. His sharp deliberate thrusts made your eyes roll back and several moans escaped your lips. You haven't been with any other man except Pierre and you would never need to. He knew your body more than you did and the delight that he brought you was extraordinary.

The squeezing of your wrist made your eyes snap open. His beautiful eyes were already watching you withering underneath him. A look of pure adoration plastered on his face as his hips continued to move at a rapid pace. “Shit, Pierre”

Pierre shook his head at you, a lopsided grin replacing his usual smirk as he leaned down to kiss your chest. “That's not what i want to hear, love.”

He was playing your own game against you, but you were too full of gratification to care. “P- please, your highness.” A blush crept up your cheeks at the seriousness of your own voice. You were no longer mocking him with his title but moaning it in pure delight.

Pierre cocked his head at you, “Please what, love? Use your words.” Tingles made its way onto your skin from kisses he scattered over your neck, goosebumps trailing in their wake. You didn't even process your words until they were out in the open.

“Fuck me like your life depends on it.”

And he did. His thrusts became unbelievably precise, his free hand roamed your body, circling and squeezing all the right places while his other intertwined with yours. You knew there would be marks left from where he had held on too hard, but you didn't see it as a mark of pain rather than an indication of what had gone on between you two.  A reminder for the next long two weeks ahead of you.

The clenching of your walls for the second time that night indicated to Pierre you were close. “Hold on, love” he ushered. Something that was incredibly hard to do when he was pounding into you like an animal and circling your clit like he was under a spell.

“I - i can't,” you sobbed. You wanted so bad to release the knot in your stomach, to catch the orgasm you had been chasing all night.

“I said hold it.” He was in control, that much was clear, but you could only hold on for so long until your body couldn’t take it anymore.

“P - pierre, fuck!”

“That's it, love,” Pierre groaned in your ear, “Hold on for just another moment, such a good girl for me.” Your eyes rolled back and your gripped onto his hand for dear life. “Don't know what id do without you.” Your heart skipped a beat and tears began welling in your eyes. “Look so pretty right now, taking me like the queen you'll soon be.” Your breath increased and a whimper left your lips.

“You can let go now, love.”

Nights with Pierre were often sleepless. You had plenty of time to sleep when you were alone in your bedroom. Two nights each month you spent facing the beautiful prince, talking about utter nonsense until your cheeks hurt from smiling too hard and your eyes drooped from being awake for too long.

“Im being sent somewhere tomorrow,” you whispered into the darkness, playing with his hands as you dared to break the silence around you. You could feel him tense up next to you, obviously assuming the worst and imagining an attack his own kingdom. His own people. “Not you, “ you reassured, your heart fluttering when he immediately relaxed beside you, “Some rebels gathering together behind the mountains, I’ll have to leave early in the morning.”

It hurt you to cut your already short time with Pierre even shorter, but duty called and once your father demands your presence on a mission, you had no choice than show up.

“I hate the fact you have to go out on these stupid battles,” Pierre confided. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you all night, wanting to imprint the image of your face in his mind until the next time he saw you again.

“Well, unlike you, I have to prove myself to everyone.” It was the harsh reality of your world, one that you were reminded of at each public event you attended. You were a woman and for that reason, deemed unworthy of ruling.

“You wouldn’t have to prove yourself to anyone if you ran away with me,” he reminded. Without fail, every time you met up with Pierre, he brought up the idea of running far away to another kingdom, one where the two of you could live like commoners and not have to worry about the state of a kingdom nor dooming battles. It was a daydream that both frightened and enticed you in the best ways possible.

“You really think you can survive without all this luxury?” you pondered, your hands immediately running up and down the silk sheets on top of you as your eyes floated across the numerous jewels and paintings scattered around his room.

“With you next to me?” he asked. His hand came to rest on your jaw, moving your face closer to his own as he spoke his true desires out loud, “Of course.”

#pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula one #au #royalty au #x reader

[yeongwvnhi]

ᴸᵒᵛᵉ ᴬᵍᵃⁱⁿ

Pairing - Baekhyun x fem reader -> exes to lovers | Genre - Angst, fluff | warnings - none | taglist - @twancingyunhoe @trashlord-007 @tiddy-boys | synopsis - when Baekhyun and you broke things off a year ago, it felt alright, but you came to the painful realization that nobody could ever replace him or love you like he did | word count - 2.1k | thanks to @tiddy-boys for beta-reading ♡

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It's days like these, rain hitting the window in harsh taps and angry wind blowing, when the nostalgia hits the hardest. After all, you were always one to dwell on the past. It's just what you do. 

Every day felt the same after the two of you broke things off. You don't even remember why exactly you even ended it in the first place. The pain still sits deep, coming to haunt you when you least expect it. 

Rainy days like those just trigger the nostalgia, the memories and bygone feelings. 

It's 12pm when you check your phone, yet you're still laying in bed. The lack of motivation due to this sudden wave of sadness is something you're not experiencing for the first time. 

And it's killing you slowly. These feelings are eating you up from the inside out. 

Without even realizing, tears are running down your cheeks in even, salty streams. 

"Why am I even crying…" You mumble and lift your arm to cover your face, trying to make it stop. "God, I'm so pathetic" 

You try to manage to stop your tears, wrist harshly rubbing your eyes. After a minute or so, you succeed in stopping them. 

instead pick up your phone, unlocking it and opening Instagram. 

One peek won't hurt, right…? 

His name at the top of your searches seems to be mocking you as you hover your finger above it. Should you really do it? What if he found someone new and his profile is filled with couple pictures? Or what if he feels nothing and is glad to be alone? What if, what if, what if…

"Fuck it" you hiss and tap on his username, his profile popping up after a brief second of loading the page. 

He… hasn't posted anything for a few months, his last post being from October last year. 

Oh for fucks sake… is this a good sign or not? It could mean he's been seeing someone new, but it could also mean he's just been living his life like usual. 

So many possibilities, yet no resolution seems to be in sight. 

"This is so annoying, oh my gooood" You groan and smack your head into your pillow, laying sprawled out like a star with an annoyed pout on your face. 

"It's been a god damn year," You grumble, "why do I still feel like this?" 

The sound of your fist hitting the mattress of your bed is dull, not the way you wanted it to sound. "I hate this, UGHH" The frustration in your voice is for sure loud and clear, accentuated well by the 'ugh'. 

This whole situation is stressing you out. "I need a shower.." You mumble, absent-minded, as you fling the covers back and swing your legs over the edge of your bed. 

—

Despite the gloomy weather, you decided to take a walk outside. The rain still hasn't let up, droplets of it occasionally hitting your face. 

"Why is it so cold today? It's already spring…" You mumble quietly to yourself, eyes strictly trained on the path in front of your feet and head held low. 

You're so lost in your thoughts, you don't see the person headed your way. 

And apparently, the person doesn't seem to notice you as well. So your shoulders collide and you stumble, umbrella falling out of your hand and fast quick steps to regain your balance. 

"I'm so sorry! Are you al-" The man rushes to apologize, but his words get stuck in his throat as he takes in who he just, quite literally, stumbled into. 

Rain has hit you mercilessly, soaking you from head to toe within seconds as you stand there, paralyzed. "Baek…Baekhyun?" 

His eyes are wide and mouth slightly open in shock as he doesn't know what to say or do. 

He hasn't seen or talked to you in at least nine or ten months for sure. What is he even supposed to say? "Yeah… it's- it's surely been a while" he dumbly answers. "Ah! Your umbrella!" Baekhyun rushes to pick it up and hold it over your figure. 

But the damage is already done. 

You're shivering, dripping with water but still you've a tiny smile on your lips at the sight of him. 

You delicately take hold of the handle, fingers gently enclosing around the man's hand. 

He doesn't move to let go, just standing there and staring into your eyes. "I-" 

You cut him off by mistake with a sneeze, the cold creeping in deep. It feels like your bones might freeze, grasp around both Baekhyun's hand and the handle of your umbrella tightening, muscles contracting to desperately stay warm. "S-Sorry for interrupting you" You say, teeth clattering and eyes averting. 

"No no don't worry about it!" He insists, "but we should get you home, your hand is cold as ice, Y/N" 

"Ah… you're right" You nod and he flashes you a warm smile. 

"Do you still live in the same apartment or did you move?" Baekhyun asks, back to being concerned about your wellbeing now. 

"I- I still live in the same place" You reply, your free hand holding onto your jacket for warmth, but in vain. 

"That's too far away, my place is way closer" He objects and gently pulls you along, "come on, let's get you freshened up before you really get sick" 

You only manage an awkward nod and let him lead you along, a surprisingly pleasant silence engulfing you two. 

—

Baekhyun unlocks the door to his apartment and firstly puts both of your umbrellas away, taking off his wet shoes in the process and you follow along. 

"Come on, I'll show you the bathroom" He says and you tag after him. 

He opens the door, turns on the light and quickly pulls out two towels for you. "You can just use my shampoo, I don't have anything suitable here for you, sor-" 

"Thank you" you break his rambling. "You wouldn't need to do this, so thank you" 

Baekhyun smiles softly, although his eyes tell a different story. "I'll bring you some clothes in a bit, okay?" 

"Mhm" you nod and give him a curt bow before he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. 

You waste no time in stepping out of your soaked clothes and into the shower. 

You set the water to a nice warm temperature and rinse off the cold first, feeling relieved. 

Then there's a knock. "Hey Y/N, I'm putting some clothes on top of the washing machine for you now" he announces before opening the door, doing as he said and then leaving just as quickly as he came. 

"Still the considerate guy he always was…" You mumble with a sad smile, old memories coming back to haunt your mind with sweet images of the two of you. Him always knocking before he'd enter a room you would be in to announce himself. 

You loved that about him, he was always mindful of others and you're happy to see it hasn't changed at all. 

—

You finished quickly and put on the clothes he gave you. Some boxers and a way too big on you, black shirt. You dried your hair as best as you could with the towel he gave you and made sure you don't look like a lion by patting down your hair a bit. 

"Baekhyun?" You timidly call out after opening the door a bit. 

"Yeah?" He replies and you hear his footsteps approach. "What is it?" 

"Uhm- Where to put my wet clothes?" You ask. 

"Oh- Hold on, I'll put them in the washing machine" He says with big eyes and opens the machine for you to put them in. "I'll dry them after they're washed so you can change back, alright?" 

You nod quickly and thank him quietly. He opens the machine and you put your clothes inside, him doing the rest. 

"So, uh-" 

"Do you want some water?" He quickly asks, ears flaring red as he avoids your eyes. 

"Sure" you squeak back and follow him into the kitchen. He gets a glass out of a cupboard and fills it with water before handing it to you. 

You nip at the liquid as Baekhyun leans against the countertop adjacent to you, eyes taking in your figure. 

He missed seeing you in his clothes, you always looked so good in them. He just missed you in general. 

The reason why the two of you broke up a year ago? 

Baekhyun remembers it all too well. 

It was a work related thing actually. The two of you worked in different shifts and barely saw each other, yet alone had time for any couple stuff. 

Free days? Spent alone or arguing about never seeing each other. 

And at one point you had said to just break up. In that moment Baekhyun felt like he was hit by lightning, body stiff and eyes wide. He couldn't believe what he heard. Baekhyun felt anxiety cursing through his veins as his brain processed your words.

You had told him that you wouldn't hate him, but that your situation at that time just didn't allow any dating. The two of you never had hard feelings about the outcome, but it was hard to suddenly go back to being alone. 

And now you're here, in his apartment, wearing his clothes and smelling just like him. He can't believe this is happening. 

"Uhm, so" You speak up after setting the glass down on the other counter behind you. Your hands come up to grab the surface besides your waist and you avoid the man's eyes. 

"Yes?" Baekhyun can't help the hopeful hint in his voice as he urges you to continue your thoughts. 

"How has life been for you?" 

A chuckle escaped his lips at your question, shoulders jumping up and down in the process before he answered. "It's been rather boring but nice, if you get what I mean? I found a different job and work from home now" 

You nod quietly, "I've also found a new job and my shifts are less hectic" 

"Have you… found someone new?" 

You halt at his inquiry, gears in your mind temporarily stopping and he seems to take the lacking answer the wrong way. A frown pulls at his normally friendly and soft expression, making him look grumpy and bothered. "I see" 

"No, no! I- I haven't found anyone!" You quickly say, "I just… I couldn't move on" 

His expression changes to a sad smile, although he's kind of glad you're still somehow his. "Me neither" 

You scoff lightly, a cheeky smirk suddenly on your face. "No wonder, nobody could put up with your annoying ass anyway" 

"Hey!" He exclaims in shock. 

"I'm joking, I'm joking!" You insist, holding your stomach and laughing. "You're bearable most of the time" 

"That doesn't make it any better!" Baekhyun whines and you laugh out loud, hand flying up to cover your mouth. 

"Still the cocky little girl you've always been" He fires back and you snort. 

"Like you're one to talk" You roll your eyes at him and he exhales through his nose. 

His hands grab you by the collar of his shirt you're wearing and unexpectedly pull you into him. You squeal, hands shooting up to brace against his broad chest and you look up to be met by his cocky smile. "You never knew when to stop, no change at all there" he playfully nags. 

"Shut up" You weakly fight back. 

Baekhyun chuckles and you feel the rumble drumming against the palms of your hands. "How come you haven't moved on?" 

You lower your head, hands fumbling with his shirt. "Well… I came to the conclusion that just nobody could replace you. Nobody could love me like you did…" You mumble against his chest and Baekhyun feels a smile creeping up on his face. 

"I felt the same" He whispers back and his arms move to pull you into him more by your waist. 

After hearing that, you look back up at him with big eyes. "Really?" 

He nods and flashes you a bright smile. "Even though we fought a lot and barely had time for each other, I never stopped loving you" 

"Shut up" You almost whimper and move your hands to pull him closer by the back of his neck, lips meeting in the middle. 

Baekhyun's eyes almost fell out of their sockets before he came to his senses. 

One of his hands found its place on the back of your head as he moved his lips against yours with fervor. He greedily breathes you in, not wanting this to end as moves his mouth against yours. 

You shiver when his tongue meets yours and that's when you draw the line… for now. 

He chases after you for a second and you chuckle, dazed eyes meeting yours. "Slow down tiger" you say and peck the corner of his mouth. 

"Okay, okay" He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, "will you let me love you again?" 

"You bet" 

#yuki writes #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #prism.nw #lsn.works #supermwritersnet #wkcnet #theBBHday #exo fluff #exo angst #exo imagines #exo scenarios #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun imagines #baekhyun scenarios #yeongwvnhi.txt

[visd3stele]

The beauty and his beast - wolfstar fic

summary: two different nights, years passed, some things changes, but some never do

TW: nightmares, PTSD, trauma, non depictive child abuse, themes of suicidal thoughts

A/N: I loved writing this, but I am so nervous about it. What do you think?

requests ; masterlist

fanart credit picture down below: @lunopal

Ragged voices licked his ears. Three different ones overlapped in a cacophony of hissed whispers and dooming laughs. From where he stood in the middle of his cell, Sirius could see a silhouette standing in the open door. Open, because there was no way he could escape. Three Dementors floated in a circle around him, so fast he could barely tell them apart. Black smoke, a burning smell and shadows whirled under low hoods, bringing him to his knees.

The man in the door curled his lips in a terrible grin. The Dementors were his and with each mind they broke, with each soul they ate, the wizard gained a sense of pride and morbid joy.

Sirius knew it. He knew the man, back in his school years - how far they seemed now! But Sirius also knew he was delusional. The Dementors bow to no one. They have no law, no caretaker, no master. Only their purpose.

Continuing to swirl around his frail body, sinked in to a third of what it used to be, bony edges poking out through dirty thin layers of clothing, the Dementors closed in on Sirius. Flashes of memories flew before the Animagus' eyes. James' empty ones, still open in a silent plea for his sacrifice to be enough to save his family, his brown hair dipped in his own blood, body angled in an unnatural position with his hand stretched forward above his head as if reaching for his best friend. Lily's tears, yet to dry and evaporates, stained her too pale face, the red of her hair sprayed around too lively; no blood pools formed around her lifeless body, laid on its belly as it fell onward, as if leaping away from her son, so the baby won't have to see it. And finally Harry, his godson, crying in his crib, a brown-red crust shaped like a lightning forming on his forehead; his green, small eyes, swollen, puffy and trimmed with red followed his godfather as the man turned his back on him and ran outside.

Sirius cursed loudly, beginning to shackle the chains trapping him in place in case he tried to escape the daily visit of the Prison Warrant and his guards. But the now twenty five years old has stopped trying to run a long time ago. What good would it be? There was nothing - no one - waiting from him out in the world. No, Sirius trashing around the cold, dirty dais, snapping the metal biting in his wrists, bruising his effervescent skin and almost cracking his bones as well was his attempt to run from his own mind. If he could just wipe the haunting memories away with a shook of his head, a twist of his back or punching and kicking the thick walls.

Fragments of thoughts he wasn't sure belonged to him invaded his mind. "Your fault. Traitor. Another Black." And, worst of all, one pained howl, a desperate scream in the night. Sirius wasn't sure if he heard it, or the dark creatures around toyed with him, but Remus' wild, feral yell of pure hurt reverberated inside the bars of his mind. The young wizard shut his eyes closed tightly, hoping to brush away the sound, the voices. Failing to do so, he released a scream of his own, only a hint of Padfoot, the big, black dog, his alter ego, printed in it.

The thirty four years old man yanked up. The bed sheets were soaked in his sweat, the blanket throwed on the floor. Sirius passed a shacking hand over his face, feeling the hot air leaving his mouth in short breaths, than big inhales with no exhale, the burning of tears on his warm red cheeks and the running nose. His lips felt sewed together all of a sudden, as chill after chill entered his body, cooling off his face too quickly.

It was just a nightmare, he knew. He escaped Azkaban, has been a free man from over a week already. But Sirius Black couldn't let the twelve years in prison go. The things he saw there, what the Dementors showed him day after day, carved their way in his brain, refusing to leave. Yes, he may have been wrong: his family and living friend welcomed him back. Harry was warming up to hid godfather, Nymphadora Tonks was eager to know her uncle, Andromeda even reached out, sending letter after letter and Remus - well, Remus hugged him tight and apologized for believing that filthy rat's lies. The werewolf spent his days, from first ray of sunshine until the last drop of sunlight. But the nights he went home. The nights when ghosts came to play, wounds teared open and pain leaked like blood from Sirius' heart, Remus was gone.

He tried to remember a time they didn't share a bed - before Azkaban, of course. Not in a sexual way, though it came to that in the late years of Hogwarts too. But simply for the comfort they each found in the other. It started in the second year, Sirius recalled.

Four twelve years old boys in a room seemed like a receipt for disaster. In a way, it was. After finding out their friend's secret, James, Sirius and Peter decided to sneak in the herbology cabinet, get Mandrake leaves and become Animagus. Seeing as they got away with it, the four created their enchanted map and become the Marauders, messers Prongs, Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail, waltzing their merry way through Hogwarts.

Not everything was merry and joyful, though. And despite their reputation, the wizards could be grave and serious when need be. Like one night, when Sirius woke them all up with his cries. The grey eyed boy stood on top of his bed covers, knees drawn to his chest, hands tangled in his shoulder length hair. He leaned back and forth, trembling. Front teeth bit in his lower lip to prevent him from making more noises as silent tears rolled down his face.

The other three boys thought Sirius saw a mean spirit, the haunted glassy look in his eyes only proving their theory further. But no danger threatened in the shadows of their room. No monster lurked in the darkness.

James was the first to get up and surf his way to the pure blood. Remus followed closely behind while Peter watched everything from the safety of his bed. Sirius' episode truly spooked him.

"Padfoot, mate, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. 'm sorry. Go back to sleep."

James and Remus changed worried looks at the sourness of Sirius' voice. Their friend would usually be the epitome of confidence, yet now he seemed to desperately try to shrink and disappear. But it was late and they were tired, so the boys decided with a swift nod that they'd pick up the subject in the morning and climbed back under their covers.

Remus jolted awake. Two out of his three best friends were sound asleep. Sirius still stared at the wall in front of him, breathing jerky. Due to his fine, superior hearing, the werewolf discerned the Black boy's muffled whimpers, sounds that kept him from sleeping.

"Sirius, why are you so afraid?" Remus whispered.

" 'm not afraid, Moony. Sleep."

"Can't. Werewolf remember? I hear you trying to not cry. You can cry, you know."

"I know." Sirius said in a tone that clearly showed he doesn't. With a sigh, Remus threw away his blanket, slipped his feet in his shoes and trailed his legs over the dorm's brick daises until he reached his friend's bed. The brown haired boy signed Sirius to scoop over, which he did, to both wizards surprise.

Later, when talking about that night, Padfoot admitted he was too tired, too shocked and too lost in his mind to think and only acted on auto pilot.

Remus brought the blankets to cover them both, still seated as they were. "Do you need a hug?" Sirius hesitated before answering, but eventually he nodded twice, a quick movement as if the boy was ashamed to admit it and wanted to pass unnoticed.

But Remus smiled softly and wrapped his hands around him. Sirius clinged onto his friend. The warmth of the gesture, the cozy closeness of a settled, stable body, a person that cared deeply about him and only him as a being, set the restrained tears free. Remus held Sirius until his body stilled and he could feel no more tears soaking his pajamas.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sirius swallowed, but the words demanded to be spoken. "Yes."

"Alright. I'm gonna ask you questions and you can answer with yes or no. It's your choice if you want to elaborate. Sounds good?"

"Yes." Sirius said and for a moment his usual, ironic self showed up.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"Yes."

"About your family?"

With a shudder, the grey eyed boy forced out another "yes."

"Your brother?"

"No."

"Your parents, then. Did they - did they do something to you?"

"Yes." Remus' arms tighten around him and he clunged harder to his friend as well. In the safety of the Gryffindor dorm, shared with his most trusted peers, comforted by the scarred boy he became an Animagus for, Sirius stumbled over his thoughts. The dream weighted heavy on his mind, but he didn't know how to let free of those horrible images that haunted him. Not images, memories. Sirius feared that if he said anything they'll become real. Not that they weren't, but they happened in the past. Talking about them, invoking them, would feel like living through them again.

And yet, part of him wanted to talk. He needed someone to know. Sirius couldn't be sure why. Maybe to hear that it was nothing, that it was ok and he shouldn't be such a weak ship. Or maybe to hear it was normal and he wasn't alone. That is how parents love and his didn't hate him after all. Or just to show someone how broken he were, hoping to be picked un and patched.

So, speaking slowly, but evenly, Sirius retailed his nightmare to Remus. In his sleep, the twelve years old boy was hanging some muggle posters in his room: bands, promo for concerts, normal things a boy his age would own. He smiled broadly, music turned on quite loud, muggle music, when his parents bursts in. Walburga and Orion both yell, but Sirius can’t understand what they’re saying. It’s pretty clear they are very upset with him, though. And the reason couldn’t be more obvious. 

“Sirius Orion Black!” his mother shrieked. “Ungrateful, worthless child! You are a stain on the family’s name.”

“You should be ashamed of you. As much as I am for being your father. Well, say something. Look how upset you made your mother!”

“Sorry,” he’d try to say, but his voice would break, too small to be heard by the angry adults. Which only worsened their state. Sirius watched frozen in terror as Walburga took her wand. Only his head seemed to be able to move, and he was shacking it vigorously, wiping his cheeks with it. The young wizard tasted tears on his tongue as he repeated the same words over and over again “no, please, ‘m sorry!” It did nothing to help. 

Remus stayed in his bed that night.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The moon shone mockingly on the window. Last night has been a full moon and Prongs, Padfoot and Wormtail failed to properly contain Moony. It happened quite a lot in their first days as Animagus. As normal, they got better over the years, the four boys falling in rhythm like an oiled machine. By the time they reached excellency, though, mistakes happened. James, Peter and Sirius thought less of it, but Remus took it badly. 

As he laid in the dark, blanket drawn to cover his head as he hugged his knees on the side, the young werewolf tried to remember what happened last night. What if he killed someone? What if he will next time the boys won’t be able to restrain him? Is it worth living like this, a danger to himself and the ones around? What if he hurts his friends? 

“I can hear your mind working from over here y’know?”

Remus straighten up in shock. “Padfoot?”

“Well, it’s not the Fat Lady. What’s on your mind?”

Remus shrugged, but Sirius wouldn’t stop pestering him until he poured his deepest fears and doubts. 

“You won’t”

“How do you know this?”

“You won’t, Moony,” Sirius said more firmly this time.

“Alright.” Remus clearly didn’t believe him and his worries still troubled him as he turned to lay back down. He heard footsteps, then felt the mattress shifting as another body climbed over his bed covers. “I know because I am Sirius Black and you are my friend.” Less than an hour later, both boys were sound asleep.

Sirius slept in his bed that night.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

It became a tradition. At first, they'd wait until one of them woke frozen in pain and panic, then they'd stay together and talk silently until they could sleep again. Later, Sirius and Remus would wait until James and Peter were out to decide who's bed to sleep in, knowing one of them - or both - ought to need the comfort.

The man kept trembling. His sobs caught in hiccups, leaving him out of breath. He did it. He left Harry for revenge. He practically made the choice for James and Lily, selecting Peter as secret keeper. His brother died and instead of mourning him, Sirius rejoiced bitterly in his cell - until he found out how he betrayed the Dark Lord.

He was just another Black. An evil presence in the world, despite his efforts. Gryffindor or Slytherin, it mattered not when his genes crafted him. Sirius tried so hard to be good, brave, loyal and the only thing he managed was to disappoint everyone. He was a nuisance and a burden and the a stain on the world. It'd be better if his sorry, useless existence would be wiped off the surface of the Earth.

Such thoughts clouded Sirius' mind when a light knock pulled him out of his head. "May I come in, Padfoot?"

The man almost broke at the nickname. Only one single person now would know to call him that. The weight of the realization hit him and another wave of tears carried the air from his lungs.

Receiving no answer, Remus kicked the door open, worry written all over him. The werewolf was panting and sweating from running, eyes wide close to terror. "Padfoot!" Seeing his oldest friend's state, he rushed to his side and hesitated only a moment before drawing him in for a hug.

"Nightmare?"

"Yes."

"Azkaban?"

"Yes."

"Dementors?"

"Yes. They-" Sirius gulped, shame tightening up in his throat. He was a thirty four man, for Godric's sake! And yet he cries like a baby. But the path he and Remus trailed off to, simple questions, any type of answer, so familiar and soothing he couldn't stop. "They tortured me. Showing me their - James and Lily's - death over and over. I left Harry, Moony. I stepped inside the house, saw that beautiful, brave child, suffering and I took off after bloody Pettigrew!" Before Remus could say a thing, Sirius continued, teeth so barred that words barely spitted out. "I heard you screaming too. I don't think that was real, but it sounded so broken, Moony. Twelve years, over twenty four full moons alone. 'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

Remus inhaled sharply, pulling Sirius even closer to him. He rubbed circles on his back, leaning to whisper in his ear "It was not, Padfoot. I should have trusted you more, star. If anything, it's my fault for spending so much time alone. So much, in fact, that it seems I neglected you, our agreement."

“It was my fault.” Sirius insisted.

“No,” and not letting him time to argue, Remus added “I know so, Sirius, because I am Remus Lupin and you are my... friend.”

Sirius pulled away only to find a reluctant smile playing on Remus' face. His body reacted before his mind could process its moving. He moved on the right side of the bed, still avoiding the other wizard's eyes. "Why are you here, Remus?"

"I couldn't sleep either. Thought to check on you as well. And good thing I did. You looked..." The professor didn't know how to finish that sentenced. Hollow. Empty. Dead. Scaringly close to death, in fact.

"Merlin! Thank you, Moony. You don't look bad yourself."

Remus chuckled. "Are you feeling any better?"

"No. You?"

"No."

Both men laughed. A bitter sweet sound passing through silence, taking with it any sign of discomfort that existed.

"I'm glad you came."

"Me too."

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #wolfstar imagine #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #the marauders era #the marauders #marauders era #marauders #hp marauders #imagines #young sirius imagine #young sirius black #young remus imagine #young remus lupin #post azkaban #angst scenarios #angsty #hp angst #marauders angst #wolfstar angst #sirius black #remus lupin #lgbtq+ writing #one shot #remus lupin one shot #sirius black one shot #my writing #non canon ships #gay ships

[moonshine-dan]

Quick Bite (p.1)

Osamu x GN! Reader, 2.5 K

Warnings: Odaxelagnia (biting kink), explicit sexual situations, swearing

Kinks: Biting, dry humping/thigh riding, coming untouched, handjobs, praise

Synopsis: 100% Smut. You tell Osamu you have a certain kink. He explores it with you.

The way I'm such a whore for this man now 😔 @crocyoota i blame you for making me a full time Osamu simp. Also thanks for beta-ing exactly one line of this lmao

Osamu's mouth closed over the pulse point at the base of your neck. Softly, he mouthed the skin there, warm lips feathering over your taut muscles stretched in anticipation of his next move.

He had you in his lap, palms smoothing circles along the outside of your hips and sweeping up to clutch your ass. Long fingers pressed softly into you, pressing tiny patterns into your flesh. He mouthed your neck tenderly, traveling languidly up your throat, dragging his soft lips along your jugular before arriving just below your jaw. Another soft kiss there, just a touch more intent than before. You shivered, hands roaming his chest and winding into his hair.

He was teasing you, intentionally or not. Your early morning makeout session before you both had to work usually involved more tongue than this, but you had recently told him about how sensitive your neck was and how you wanted him to try marking you sometime. Of course he was going to take his time and work you out, to memorize what made you moan the most so he could do it better next time. He never half-assed anything, but fuck if you didn't want him to go faster.

Osamu is oblivious to your desires. He continues to graze his lips down the opposite side of your neck, starting again as he reaches your collarbone. He was pressing just a touch harder now, contact a little rougher as he mouthed your throat. You shift slightly, your pulse jumping as he finally introduced his tongue. He lapped at your clavicle, licking his way back up yet again to meet your jaw. ah. You can't help but sigh and tug at his roots as the muscle traces a path below your ear, the spit cooling and making your skin impossibly more sensitive.

He stays there, pressing light kisses to the tender skin and tracing shapes with his tongue. You're tingling, already a little lightheaded from all the light touches. He brands another shape to your skin. A triangle? He's made that shape a few times, but now he's adding…. No. He's drawing a tiny Onigiri on you with his tongue, the pattern unmistakable. You drop your hands from his hair and start to say something, but Osamu was waiting for you to figure it out- he was ready, cutting you off by mouthing the same spot and sucking.

And oh, how you had been wanting this.

A pleasant buzz is building in the base of your skull. When Osamu sucks down, lips working into your neck, it builds a little more, fuzzes the edge of your vision and radiates down to your fingers. You flick them idly, remembering belatedly that you had a perfectly hot boyfriend to be groping. Sliding under his arms, you reach his back and massage the muscles there with your fingertips. His skin is golden under yours, hot and receptive to your touch. 'Samu grunts in appreciation at the attention, the vibrations adding to the suction he's applying to your neck. ghh.

He continues, mouth open and tongue flicking as he slides over your throat to catch up on the other side of your neck.

You push into his lap further unconsciously. Heavy hands on your hips stabilize you, one leaving to snake up your spine and grab at the hair at the back of your head. He grips sturdily and eases your head to the side for easier access to your neck. The buzzing in your skull gets louder still.

You're rocking slightly now, thighs flexing as you ache for something more. The hand on your waist grips tighter, trying to still you as Osamu worked his lips over a spot he had bullied before, suctioning up and scraping his teeth over the heated skin. "Hahh… Osamu..." You groan into your shoulder, his mouth pressing into the skin he had just abused, pulling it right back into his mouth with an obscenely wet sound.

The necking has all your blood rushing straight south, emptying your brain of any thoughts besides rutting into him. Everything he does, the way his tongue teased your sensitive skin, to the bruising pressure of his lips that brought the wet heat of his mouth to you: all of it drives you out of control.

He released his lips with a wet pop! and sighs lightly, the cool breath flowing over the heat from your overworked neck causing you to jerk into his lap further. You feel the rumble of his chest before his deep baritone reaches your ears-

“Quit squirmin’.”

He finishes his command by leaning in and biting down on the bruising skin he had just pulled away from.

The moan shocks one of you more than the other. The bite has the opposite effect Osamu wanted, sending you rocking further into his lap. Your hips cant up, mouth slack and eyes half-lidded, pulse throbbing where his teeth had made light intentions in your skin. You know what? Fuck it. You had time before work, and Osamu clearly underestimated how into this you’d be. You grind down onto him again, angling for his half-erect cock.

"Please, Osamu," you pant out, practically begging, "do that again."

You can feel his dick twitch in interest at your words. His grip on your ass becomes bruising as his fingers knead into you intently. He leads your head up to meet his, observing the way your face flushed darker, pupils blown so wide you could barely see the iris.

"You're really into this, huh."

He was nosing into your neck, breath ghosting over the fresh bite and driving you crazy. Yes. Was your request not enough? You hoped he wouldn't make you actually beg. The hand on your ass squeezes, making you squeak. It quickly changes to a moan as he bites again at the thin skin below your ear.

"I'm kinda startin' to see the appeal m'self…"

He shifts minutely. From below, you feel his erection, solid. Throbbing. Fuck, finally. You grind into his length and finally hear him groan. The sound makes you push down harder, eager to hear what other sounds you could pull from your boyfriend.

You snap your hands to his waist, bracing yourself as you fling a leg over his thigh to push your own into his cock. Osamu's grinding into you eagerly now, groaning, friction mutually given between you both. His hands find your sides and he splays his fingers, rubbing lines up the planes of your ribcage. Every tense of muscle creates a delicious pressure that's building in your core alongside the buzz in your skull.

He slides his hands over your chest, cupping you with both hands and squeezing before joining with his mouth, kissing your sternum. He brings one of your arms to his mouth, kissing the underside of your wrist tenderly. His teeth press in lightly as he swipes his tongue over the tendons. Your pulse thrums, electric.

The tension in the air changes subtly, stilling you for a moment. Osamu peers up at you with a discerning gaze. You met his eyes, mildly concerned at the sudden shift in mood. What was he looking for?

"You're so sweet, darlin'. So sweet to me. Think I'm gonna call you melonpan from now on."

His eyes are teasing. Your ears are burning. This asshole did not just call you fucking melonpan.

He catches your eyes and wrinkles his brow, cheeky grin splitting his face as he took your expression in. He just wanted to see you blush. fucker, you think, cheeks flaming. It worked.

His eyes sharpen with a predatory look.

"I wasn't a hundred percent honest, babe. I'm sorry. It's actually because I wanna sink my teeth into you."

True to his words, he bites into your neck, targeting the hickey that was developing.

Oh. Oh. Maybe the nickname was ok, actually.

Your breath and your thoughts quickly leave you. It's impossible to talk, to even think, mind too focused on the sensation of Osamu sucking the bruising bite on your neck.

This is what you had wanted, but you hadn't expected it to feel quite this… debilitating. The pleasure crossed with the pain in a way you could only describe as delicious, your nerves alright with conflicting signals. Your brain, quite literally, did not know how to process it. The result was the ever-encompassing buzz that was spreading from your skull to the rest of your body.

Ghhh, is what you manage to verbalize.

Osamu hasn't stopped, teeth finding old marks to push into, sucking and rolling the skin and muscle of your neck to the point of bruising. He brands new ones where he hasn't, leaving a patchwork pattern of hickies like a collar for anyone to see.

His tongue swipes along your heated skin, the wet heat soothing where he had previously teased. He grinds into your shaking leg, precome smoothing the friction as he ruts into your thigh. You're shaking, and he knows you're close, even without his hands or his cock. To see you coming undone with nothing but his mouth and his thigh? christ. Osamu's head isn't as big as his brother's, but it's almost enough to make him cum right there.

He's eager to see what pushes you over the edge.

"You're doing so good, baby, fuck," Osamu says into your neck, sucking loudly at the skin. "So fucking sweet, baby….. skin's so fucking sweet….." he bites down, hard, at the base of your neck and feels how your body freezes, every muscle tightening, tremulous. He chews, rolling the muscle under the skin as you cry out his name.

"hah, god, Osamu….!"

Your vision blurs, whitening around the edge. Your body is locking and you suck in a deep breath involuntarily. Is this a stroke? Are you dying? You've never felt this kind of brain failure during sex before. Oh my god, oh my god, fuck…!

Your release hits like lightning straight to your core. Your abdominals tightened, the buzzing in your skull intensifying and pulsing as it races through you. You arch backwards, tensing, eyes rolled back and grinding against his thigh. You shake as the sensation passes through you like an electric current, your body locking up in tension and pleasure simultaneously. Holy shit. Coming has never felt quite like this before, numbing you just as much as it brought you to ecstasy. You can't hear anything but the blood rushing in your ears as your muscles throb, your whole body tightening and relaxing, leaving your muscles burning deliciously as the buzzing finally begins to fade.

Your forehead thunks against his shoulder as you go boneless in his arms. Distantly, you think your legs are shaking.

Holy shit.

He didn't even touch you.

You need a minute to catch your breath.

Before you can though, Osamu is pushing you backwards. You hit the covers with a muffled thwump and he’s above you before you can blink, leaning into your space on his left arm as the other reaches down to stroke his cock.

"Y’can’t just give me a show like that, baby, what'd I do to deserve it?"

He drops his head to your chest and licks along your clavicle before drifting lower and sucking a hickey onto your chest. His right hand speeds up, pumping faster as he marks your chest again and again. His mouth finds a nipple and rolls it with his mouth, scraping it roughly with his teeth and sucking hard, making you jerk up from the bed slightly. It's almost too much, creeping up fast on overstimulation, but you focus. You still haven't gotten your mind one hundred percent back online from your previous climax, but you manage to reach down to cup his balls and tug gently.

Osamu's head lolls to the side and he groans. This close, you can see the sweat beading at his temples. Squeezing lightly and rolling your palm, you tug again, tapping your fingers lightly across the back. His hips snap forward fervently, your touch finally pushing him over the edge. "Comin'...!"

His words cut off into a low groan as he comes undone above you, hips stuttering, fucking into his fist. Osamu angles his cock down at you as he climaxes, hot ropes of his cum painting your stomach white. You dimly think that he's now marked you two entirely different ways.

A hand at your cheek makes you look back up. Osamu's looking at you with an emotion in his eyes that defies description. He leans down to catch your lips in a chaste kiss, thumb swiping up to catch the tear handing onto your cheek. Huh. You hadn't even realized you'd been crying. The hand retracts, and Osamu pulls away and drops to the bed.

He has enough of a mind not to flop down into the mess he just made, instead falling to your side with a sigh, eyes shut and thoroughly blissed out. He squirms until hes slotted next to you, one arm thrown across your chest. His breath puffs into your hair and tickles your ear. Your eyes slip shut as well.

...

You're content to lay there for hours, but the cooling jizz on your abdomen eventually incentivises you to get up. You untangle yourself from Osamu and push to the edge of the bed. Looking for all the world like a newborn deer, you wobble on unsteady legs to the bathroom in search of a warm washcloth.

Osamu's peace is short lived, eyes flying open at your shout:

"Fucks sake, Osamu! We have to open in an hour! How am I gonna work front of house looking like this?" You emerge from the bathroom, now clean of cum but covered in bruises of varying darkness from the neck down.

He blinks owlishly before shuttering his eyes and smirking.

"You literally asked me to do that, baby. Said 'please' an' everything."

You have no response. He's completely right, and that only makes you angrier. You toss the washcloth at his dick and tell him to get cleaned up.

…

You both make it to Onigiri Miya with minimal issues after that. Unfortunately for you, the summer heat prevented you from wearing anything that could come close to covering up the hickies above your collar. And when more socially oblivious customers would ask what happened to you, your response was to point a finger at an unusually smug-looking Osamu.

"Ask him."

Fortunately for everyone, none of them felt the need to actually ask him.

You were gonna get his ass back so bad.

#osamu smut #osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #osamu x y/n #osamu miya x y/n #osamu miya x you #osamu x you #osamu x gn reader #gn reader #x gn reader #osamu miya #🍙 #Dan wrote this! #no this isnt based off a real experience what are you talking about 😳 #please act human. #hq x reader #hq smut #hq imagines #hq x you #hq x y/n #osamu.thing #biting kink cw

[berlinini]

Hello Clem,

Top ten AFHF documentary moments, go.

Thank you for this question, Sea! I've watched the whole thing on Saturday, and finally got the time to watch it again today (on a TV screen!). I loved reading people's thoughts on the show and the documentary, but I did avoid other people's responses to your question so I wouldn't be influenced hehe!

I see your question is about the documentary but I'm gonna go with thoughts on the whole AFH streaming event.

Let's start with some ~visuals~

1. THIS!!!

Louis Tomlinson being the most beautiful, adorable, cute, unreal human being. Louis being a ball of sunshine, happiness, serotonin. For me this gif it represents Louis and the whole festival <3.

for... other reasons... this is a close second and this one is third

The little things

2. Louis tearing up during OTB (ok it's unclear if that's just the light reflecting in his eyes, but...)

3. The note change in Copyx3. I loved hearing Copy live, I thought it was great.

4. Louis kicking down the wall! Just because... look at this idiot <3 Your Honor, I'm in love with him.

5. His :> smile

6. The 7 cover!!! I had never heard Louis sing this song and I LOVED it I am now obsessed. It's so good! The atmosphere live is incredible, the fact that he followed it with Fearless gave such a rock momentum. Also, when 7 starts, Louis walks from the B stage to the main stage; the contrast between his figure and the red lightning behind him...ART! Of course, I LOVED the Beautiful War cover as well.

The BIG things

I know you said "Top 10 moments" but the rest of what I loved encompasses several elements so it's getting quite long under the cut sorry not sorry you guys know me by now right

7. The editing

I think Charlie did an amazing job!!! From the beginning, with that iconic fan; the fact that the footage of the concert is almost half Louis and half the crowd, the focus on poc fans; what is shown about the 2020 Livestream (the target being put on, the stage technicians, Charlie); the focus on Change during the festival rehearsal; the aerial shots of the crowd (so impressive!); the torches during Two of Us; the flags during OTB... The audio is also incredible, how the songs sound so clear and as pointed out, how they mixed the sound down when fans sang History (*blows a kiss to the sound mixing person*)

8. What Louis said

I loved the documentary for what Louis revealed: his thoughts on the shows in Barcelona and Madrid, seeing his heartbreaking reaction to COVID, what he said about creativity during the lockdown, etc. He was being honest and vulnerable, as aways.

There were direct quotes from Louis that I cherish, for he's expressing things that we know to be true (and more complex), but in a diplomatic manner:

"You know coming from a situation like One Direction it was never gonna be a walk in the park becoming a solo artist. I’ve had shit to deal with."

"Too many times in my career have I had to pick myself up and go ‘right let’s go again’. But I the last two years I’ve just felt like I’m finally gaining some momentum, and right now in my head I feel the best I’ve ever felt"

But the good stuff as well:

“Every single time I get up on a stage, you guys make me feel fucking invincible!”

And of course:

“Just the togetherness. That’s what makes me feel like I can take on the world. Because with that lot behind me, who’s gonna fucking stop us?”

I also loved his emphasis on bringing live music back, him saying "as a fan of music myself", saying how important it was for him to have a free gig, and for the festival to be the first post-covid live experience for most people. I think it showed his love of music, his vision, his values.

9. What Louis didn't say but communicated anyways

Like I said yesterday, I think Louis' choice of including Matt Vines and the things his said about his manager are very telling - if you look beyond the words, and in the editorial choices, there's an underlying message. About how his teams is not working for sure, but also, very subtly, how he's the driving force behind the whole thing.

Same thing for his family: there is an emphasis on his grandparents and it shows such a good side of him, it's so sweet. The fact that the rest didn't make it - that's telling. Same for including footage of Charlie, Oli and Luke, I think it shows that they are a constant presence, a quiet support in Louis' life. He doesn't have to put them on the spot for us to understand that they are important for him. The same goes for having so much footage with Helene, it's obvious how much she means to him. He says that quite clearly of course, but showing her being with him every step of the way, including just before he walks on stage, goes to show how she is one of the most important person around him.

10. What Louis showed the most: his vulnerability

It's obvious Louis worked so hard creating the festival from the ground up, yet we didn't see much that (the planing, the logistics, the details, etc). He chose to keep the magic for us and focus on his enthusiasm to put on the gig and his hard vocal and mental work.

We know that Louis is proud to be honest and vulnerable in his lyrics - he "wears his heart on his sleeve". One of my favourite thing about the AFH documentary and the bts footage is that Louis took this further - it's him being 100% honest about his vision, his values, his feelings in his own words, in his own demeanor - from stress cleaning to talking on the phone like a teenager to kicking down the wall from adrenaline. He's showing himself without artifice. And one of the thing that comes across and which is so truly rare in this day and age is his vulnerability. You have Louis, who comes from the biggest boyband, who outsold his tour, who had the biggest livestream in 2020, who has an incredible fanbase, showing his doubts, his fear, his anxiety. Saying he needs to work harder, that he's frustrated with his rehearsal performance, saying he's not ready, that he would rather run away. Who does that? Not a lot of celebrities... It is so real and authentic. It's so refreshing. And it's him.

Just after the festival performance, I wrote about the confidence that Louis had on stage and said he had obviously been working on it; I had no idea that one week later we would get so much footage of Louis struggling with his confidence two days before the event. He chose to show this part of him. The fact that he feels so comfortable sharing this means so much - to us as fans, but also about him as a person.

And then you see him walk on stage, getting more relaxed, happy, smiling, saying "Crystal Palace, sing!" and then singing "Cause we made it"... I'm tearing up!!!

I am so proud of him, of his work ethics and vision, his talent, his perseverance, his optimism, his love for his fans. I was already proud before AFHF, but with this Louis really showed there is no one else like him and he deserves the world.

#answered ask #tumblr user ssoc #sorry for the essay #louis tomlinson #i love him so much #if anything please read point number 10 it's the most important hehe #the away from home festival #afhf 2021 #afhf streaming event 2021 #top 10 afhf #tumblr user berlinini

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Unexpected Places (Pt. 07 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 1.9 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

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{Vikings Masterlist}

×

Honesty

“(Y/N), wake up.” A faint, weak murmur fills your ears. You're still under water though, floating away. “C'mon, wake up.” A sudden motion makes you bounce, a movement too abrupt to someone who's drowning. That's when you acknowledge the air filling your lungs. Not too much, but enough to bring some relief. You can't be under water. People can't breathe under water. “You won't die, hear me? Not from the cold.”

Ubbe. What's Ubbe doing here? Closing your eyes tightly, you feel like you're climbing back to the surface, back into consciousness, forcing your eyes to open. The first thing you notice is the cold, piercing, attached to your bones. Then, you realize you're being carried. “What...” You mumble, clenching your shaking hands into fists.

“There you are.” Ubbe happily says, walking fast. “We're almost there.”

“Almost where?” The lightning suddenly changes, and everything gets a little darker.

“What happened?”

“She was at the lake. The ice cracked and she fell.” Ubbe says.

“Get a warm bath to her room now!” You recognize Aslaug's voice. “Bring her close to the fire.”

The moment you're put down and feel a source of warmth, you push yourself closer, but arms hold you back. “Not that close.”

“Shit.” You curse, hands hovering above the fire. It comes back suddenly. The woods, the lake, and the ice cracking under your feet, swallowing you. How you got out, however, you have no idea, but you figure it was Ubbe. “Damn it.” You're shaking like a leaf, wishing you could sit inside the fire.

“(Y/N).” Someone calls, and when you look at your side you see Ivar and Hvitserk, both looking worried. Ivar moves faster though, dropping to the floor next to you.

“Are you alright?” He asks, hands cupping your face.

“I'm cold.” You mumble, laughing at how stupid it sounds. “I'm freezing.” Giggling, you feel as Ivar pulls you close, your body collapsing on his chest. It makes you blush, if that's even possible given how the cold has penetrated your bones. Shaking against him, you place your forehead on his neck, welcoming the warmth emanating from his skin. “Sorry, I'm soaking wet.”

“Don't worry.” He says, a hand caressing your hair. You don't know exactly what's going on, but Ivar is like a second fire right now, and you have no intention of letting go of him.

“Here,” Hvitserk mutters, and you feel a piece of fabric being laid around your shoulders.

“Alright.” Ivar fixes the blanket, rubbing your back. “You'll be fine.”

“Let's leave them,” Aslaug says in a low voice, and you notice Hvitserk and Ubbe walking away. “I'll send someone to call you when the bath it's ready.” Her voice fades away as she speaks, and then there's nothing but the low noises of the fire.

Slowly, you feel yourself warming up, the shakings finally surrendering as you sink more and more into Ivar. You don't want to think about what this means, so you barely move, not wanting whatever this is to end just yet. You almost died today. Drowned, frozen, whatever. But you did think that was the end of it. And life has so much to offer, you'd hate to lose all of its endless possibilities. Death will come one day, but first, you want to live.

“What happened?” Ivar asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“I didn't know I was at that lake, I just... I wasn't really paying attention then I heard a cracking noise.” Taking a deep breath, you remove some hair attached to your face. “Then it broke right under me and the water was so damn cold.”

“(Y/N),” Aslaug calls, and, hesitantly, you move away from Ivar, sitting up straight. “Come take your bath. You need to warm up.”

“Alright.” Nodding, you glance at Ivar before pushing yourself up.

The bath is a blessing, and you couldn't be more thankful. The warm water cleans the ice that fixated itself on your bones, and you relax in the tub. Aslaug, of course, wants to know exactly why you ended up on the frozen lake, and you have no choice but to tell her what you heard. But you beg her not to speak to Bjorn about it. You can deal with your own problems, and you don't want to make their already delicate relationship worse.

After you're clean and warmed up, she allows you to leave the bath and get dressed. You're eager to leave this episode behind and never again you'll set foot on frozen water. As you leave your room with Aslaug, her maids left to drag the tub away, you meet Hvitserk coming from the opposite direction.

“Ice lady.” He says, smiling.

“I'll leave you two to talk and go find my husband,” Aslaug mutters, and you sigh to know she will be speaking to him about Bjorn.

“How about not calling me that?” You tell Hvitserk, crossing your arms. “I almost died.”

“But you didn't.”

“Hvitserk just...” Complaining it quite useless. He'll probably only make it worse. “Fine then, call me what you like.”

“It looks like I won this battle then.” Raising an eyebrow, he gives the girls passing by a glance. “What was that, by the way?”

“What was what?” Running a hand through your hair, you still have a threat of hope he might be talking about anything else.

“Really? Do you expect me to ignore you and Ivar hugging like that?”

“I don't know what that was.” Shrugging your shoulders, you sigh. “But I'm willing to find out. It's better than think too much and end up with wrong conclusions.”

“Ivar is in his room, in case you want to know,” Hvitserk says in a low voice, walking closer and giving you a glance that always makes you want to punch his jaw. “And he was very worried about you.” And he walks away, leaving you there like an idiot.

“You're putting some effort into ruining this friendship, aren't you?” Rolling your eyes, you turn on your heels and start making the way to Ivar's room, walking fast and eventually leaving Hvitserk behind.

You were feeling brave until you're at Ivar's door. Then you wonder if this is a good idea. Some things are better left alone, and Ivar is a complicated person. But still, you can't bring yourself to walk away, so you knock three times, not sure if you want him to answer. But you hear footsteps, and seconds after the door is pushed open. It still takes you by surprise how tall he is, and those blue eyes still send shivers down your spine.

“I left my necklace here.” You mutter, feeling a little stupid. “Earrings, bracelets...”

Silently, Ivar moves aside, giving you space to walk in, so that's what you do. “They're where you left them.” He mutters, but gestures at the table he has set near the fire. Following his gesture, you sit down, hands hovering over the fire. “Ubbe said he saw you wandering through the woods.” He starts, settling down on the chair across the fire. “He called, but you didn't listen.”

“Yeah, I was just... Trying to run from my own thoughts, I think.”

“What happened?” The question is the same as earlier, but it means something entirely different. This isn't about the ice cracking, it's about what led you into that situation. Raising your eyes from the flames, you find Ivar's intense stare as he leans forward, the fire illuminating his features.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to tell him. “I heard Bjorn and your father talking and when I caught my name I decided to know what was that about and... Bjorn said something about a prophecy that says he'll marry a princess and guess what? He thinks I'm the princess.” A humorless laugh escapes your lips.

“Bjorn wants to marry you?” He states, cupping his hands together, anger taking over this expression.

“I don't care what Bjorn wants, only about what I want and I surely don't want him.” It sounds mean, like you despise the man. “I won't be told what to do, not here, not anywhere else, I'm done with being just a piece on somebody else's game.”

A smile creeps through Ivar's lips, and the anger slowly fades. “That's good to know.”

“And... Ragnar said he kept me alive because he promised my father.” Looking down at your hands, you decide to share this with him as well. “That if I didn't get used to Kattegat he'd just send me anywhere. He wasn't thinking about any prophecy.”

“So you're not into Bjorn?” Ivar asks, and you stand up, rolling your eyes.

“I wouldn't have fallen into a frozen lake if I was.” Running a hand through your hair, you tell yourself not to keep bringing that up. The talking or the lake incident. Both things are better if forgotten. “I thought it made things obvious.”

“I've been seen women falling for Bjorn since I can remember.” Ivar says, resting the clutch on his lap. “Some had him, some were left with a broken heart. The older he gets, more women chase after him. Can you blame me for thinking you would be one of those?”

Turning to look at him with both hands on your hips, you chose to be honest. As honest as you can, because there are things you don't understand, things you can't put into words. “In the boat, sailing here, for a moment I thought Bjorn was... I don't know, he was being nice to me. But it didn't take long for things to... Change.” The moment you saw Ivar for the very first time, something went off... Or on, inside you. You don't know what, but suddenly Bjorn was already on second plan. But you're not bold enough to tell him that. “Then he knocked me down with a shield, made my mare bolt up a slope, and now the lake... It wasn't directly his fault but I didn't like him talking about me like I'm just a thing that he thinks belongs to him just because someone else said so.” You get angrier with every word, as the memory of everything he said comes back. Moving to the table, you grab a cup and pour some drink for yourself, taking long sips. “I'll belong to whoever I chose, and only if he wants to belong to me as well.” You only realize what you said when you can't take it back anymore. Taking a deep breath, you drink what's left before putting the cup down. “Sorry, I needed to give vent to my anger.”

“That's alright.” Ivar stands up, slowly making his way over you. “It's good to know you won't bow down. You're more Viking than some people I know.”

“More Viking? Please, I can't even hold a sword properly.” You're about to move away when Ivar's hand comes to your waist, holding you as he did on the day you almost fainted because of the head injury. It clouds your mind immediately, and when you turn back at him, your faces are only a few inches away.

“You can still learn if you want and if you don't...” His hand moves away, coming to caress your cheek instead. His fingertips are cold, but they leave a trail of fire on your skin. “I'll still admire your bravery, Christian princess.”

The way he says it makes you smile. For the first time, it doesn't come out as an insult, or in a sarcastic way. Could Ivar accept you, despite the differences between your worlds? Right now, it feels like he can.

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