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The Salt In My Blood

You were the beloved Jewel of the Realm, the youngest Targaryen born to Alyssa and Baelon. Though your nature resembled more a lamb rather than a dragon, you posed a threat at court, for a single word out of your mouth inspired a thousand actions from The King and The Rogue Prince. Thus, your match with the Lord of the Iron Islands.

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader x Dalton Greyjoy | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, targcest (sister!reader), reader has valyrian features (silver hair, violet eyes), power imbalance, graphic depictions of violence/assault/murder/death, canon divergence/inaccurate timelines, ye old misogyny, fuckedupedness of men, smut (dub con, loss of virginity, piv, biting, marking, breeding kink, corruption kink, baby trapping, cockwarming, cunnilingus), internet translated high valyrian, angst, social commentary, typos, etc.

A/N: !!mind the warnings!! This is really yucky because it is. all men do is hurt women. Also I did basic research for Dalton Greyjoy and just used him cuz I needed a character. idk what he's actually like and I'm 99% sure this timeline doesn't add up so, just roll w it ok? Ok. If my internet translated high valyrian sucks, well, it be like that. And surprise surprise i made another song for a fic because i should make use of my music degree while im jobless 💔 my heart goes out to @arabellasleopardcoat because her fic capital really poked my brain and got me fired up enough to write/create again, even if just for this fic. i love you.

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @sloanexx @azperja @happilyhertale

Father, father, shining star, save my brother from the war. Mother, mother, hold me close. I fear brother won't come home. So, I pray, night and day, I do my duty here. Find me, oh [a] husband, so fierce with not a fear. Father, father hears my prayer. Mother, mother dries my tears. All my strife ends tonight for my husband's here.

"But what if someone sees," you whisper.

Daemon clutches your hand tighter as you hurry down the hall. He looks over to you, your expression matches your shaky voice.

Perhaps, had the conditions been different, he'd be softened by your words. The ferocity of his protectiveness would have made him stop in his footsteps and clutch your cheek. Perhaps he would have promised to safeguard you.

But these conditions did not elicit such urges from him. No. It stoked the fires bacchanal in his gut. The stolen taste of your honeyed lips in the garden was not enough.

Daemon finally brings his darling sister into his bedroom, and there, he answers you, "who would dare spy on the king's heir, the prince of the realm?"

Your breath quickens at the sound of your brother locking the door.

The prince of the realm stalks over to you, a dragon gazing upon a meek lamb.

Again, you whisper, "what if someone finds out?"

Daemon could growl. He almost did as he grabs your waist and sinks his head into the crook of your tender neck. You don't even react when he does this, save for your gasp.

Oh, how like you, how docile and doe-like, never one to raise your voice, or fight back, especially not with him.

"Let them find out, sister," he claws your clothing, "then they will not steal you from me."

You are so pliant as he squeezes you, so soft as he roughs you back to his bed. You let him handle you like he did your dolls growing up. He treated them with less than a quarter of the gentleness you would,; they'd end up tattered and broken because of him by the end of your playing session, much to your heartbreak.

Though you cried about it, you never once held it against him, because each time, Daemon would wipe your tears and apologize. He liked breaking your dolls. He liked being your comfort.

He knew without a sliver of doubt you'd let him do the same to your body. You'd let him break you, then kiss the tears off your cheeks. You'd let him, for he was your star, and you were his doll.

Daemon presses you beneath him. He lays you down where he sleeps. He kisses you, the way he has sometimes imagined he would while touching himself, or while in the arms of another. His long, silver hair falls cascades down his shoulder, joining your long, silver hair that's spilled on his pillows.

For so long, he's denied himself of you, because you were too pure, too darling to be tainted.

You whimper as he pushes your skirts up, bunching them by your ribs.

But now, it's all different.

His mouth suckles his way to your neck.

"Daemon."

Now, it's not about denial. It's about what's right. It's about what you deserve.

"Daemon-" you whimper when he reaches into the waistband of your smallclothes, "-wait."

He breathes hotly against your jaw. His hands grab your knees and parts them for himseld

You push his shoulders back, catching his attention. He is displeased, and not even your glassy eyes could quell it. He warns you with an annoyed sound.

You gulp but mutter anyway, "this is wrong."

"Wrong?!" snaps he.

You tense at his anger, yet even then, you caress his cheek gently, "I am to be married to Lord Dalton Greyjoy."

"And you would have me believe you want him?" Daemon quips, "that you do not want me?"

You push yourself up on your elbows. Tears begin to spill down the corner of your eyes, "Daem-"

"Why do you think I am doing this?" He pushes himself against your core.

You whimper at the contact. He is hard.

He grabs your wrists and pins them to your sides, "I do this for your sake, little girl. To save you from your prison."

You gulp and blink rapidly, your silver lashes lace with tears.

The slightest semblance of remorse flashes on your brother's face.

With your head lifted, you watch as Daemon brings his hands to your ankles instead. He rids you of your shoes and chucks them over his shoulder.

Slowly, he strips you naked until you are left in nothing but the jewelry and the stockings he bought you one before.

You cover your breasts, and he lets you while he kneads at your slightly parted thighs.

His eyes are glued on your womanhood, on the curls that don't see the light of day and the flesh that's never been touched by a man.

Daemon clenches his jaw as his fingers inspect the heat there. The two digits find molten wetness flooding your entrance. You make a breathless sound and squeeze your thighs, trying, with pointless effort, to stop him. His eyes flick to your face, the look of embarrassment, of shock, of pleasure visible to him. He debates forcing your legs.

He licks his you-coated fingers and tuts instead, "open."

You look at him, your Daemon, with the faint line between his brows. You close your mouth and lick your lips. Your hands find their way back to your breasts.

The sight is maddening, especially with how the jewel of your necklace looks between the squished mount of flesh.

"Open," he commands with less patience.

Daemon watches his darling princess part her legs for him. His trousers strain more than it did already.

He watches you closely and motions with a finger, "those too."

You do not immediately comply. In fact, you look at Daemon with pleading eyes. He raises his brows at your bratty demeanor, and shakes his head, "are you disobeying me?"

You see the threat in his eyes.

"Kessa nyke mazverdagon ao rūnagon aōha dīnagon?" Shall I make you remember your place?

You shake your head and pipe softly, "daor." No.

Finally, you reveal your breasts to him.

He smirks, "good girl."

Your brother kneads your delicate flesh and grinds his clothed groin against your weeping cunt. The sound you emit makes the feel of the clothes on his skin unbearable.

His grabs your hands and places them on his waistband. He looks down at you as he rids himself of his top. By the time his burning chest is free, you've gotten half the wits to undo his breeches.

His eyes don't leave you as he takes off his shoes.

You timidly pull his pants down, sitting up slightly as you do. You make a soft sound when his manhood flings free. Daemon shoves you back and does the rest himself.

"Daemon. I don't think-"

Your voice is crushed by the feel of his cock sliding into you. A rush of heat ripples through your body. He leans down and kisses your shoulder as you whine.

"Enough," he pants. He uses all his restraint not to fuck you dumb then and there. He grabs your thighs, pressing them into your chest. He can feel your tension. If he fucks you now, he could leave you unable to walk straight. But as sweet as that sounds, he doesn't actually want to hurt you, not that way.

Daemon sinks down to your jugular and kisses you there before he brings his hungry mouth to your breast. He sucks and nips, imagining it being heavy with milk for his babe, the babe he'd put into your belly.

The thought makes his moan and rut his hips.

You make a strained sound and your hands to push his arms. You call his name again, soft and shaky.

Daemon tries to ignore you, his hand coming to your lonely breast on the other side, but the persistent call of his name makes his sigh.

He lightly grazes your nipple before he releases your flesh. He trails kisses up your skin until he lands on your face, your face, which was now wet with salt.

"You need to relax. Mmm?" he coos, kissing your lips, "skoro syt gaomagon ao limagon? Hm?" Why do you cry?

You adjust beneath him, repositioning your thighs, digging your fingers into his nape. You whimper, "lēkia."

Daemon's belly burns. Look at you, crying for your older brother.

"Kessa, ñuha hāedar?" Yes, my little sister?

"Iksan zūgagon," you mutter, tears streaming down your temples. Your nails scratch up his scalp. I am afraid.

Daemon, selfish as he is, does not like the fact that leaves your lips. His brows furrow. He rubs your thighs in an attempt to comfort you. He kisses the corner of your lips, "hen lēkia?" Of your older brother?

You shake your head quickly, rubbing your thumb on his jaw.

His brows furrow tighter. His hold on your thigh tightens, "hen bona Āegenka Āzma?" Of that Iron Born?

You stay still. You take a moment before mumbling, "Viserys said I should marry him for my own good-"

"Fuck that cunt Viserys," he spits angrily.

Your lips quiver.

The anger in Daemon's chest dissipates as you rub the deep line between his brows. He props himself up, sinking a hand by the side of your head. He looks down at you.

"You cannot protect me forever," you whisper, finally relaxing beneath him.

Daemon watches as you lick your lips.

You gulp, "I am a Targaryen princess. I have duties to the realm, to my family."

"Your duty is with me," he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest.

Your violet eyes sparkle as you examine his features. You tuck the long tresses that block his face behind his ear. Your belly ignites at the fierce beauty of your beloved brother.

"I burn for you," Daemon says, "I know that you burn for me."

"But Daemon-"

The gentle thrust of his hips stifle your words.

"Enough," Daemon repeats this time softer, head sinking back into the crook of your neck, "you have always belonged to me, and you know it."

You whimper and instinctively mold your body against him. Your legs tighten around his torso as his thrusts grow more and more confident.

Daemon kisses you, delighting in the gasp you give when he plays with your pearl. He muffling the sound of your mewls with his mouth.

"They insult us all by daring to mix dragon blood with fucking sea squid," he pants, "you were meant to carry my seed, be my bride."

You moan, feeling a foreign force in your belly.

"I will not let that sewer monster be the one to make you a woman," Daemon licks a stripe up your neck.

You tangle your fingers into the roots of his hair, "Daemon."

His nails scratch up your sides, "twas I that watched you blossom into womanhood, tis I that should be the one to take it."

Neither of you speak after he says this. You both simply whimper, wordlessly agreeing your bodies were made for each other.

The prince had not a single care in the world. He urges you to scream out to him with the flick of his pelvis. He didn't care if anyone could hear, neither did he care that anyone would see the viscious marks he was leaving all over your throat.

You were better than he had ever imagined, and he was determined to make you his. He was intent on emptying his balls in you, over and over again, until you could take no more, until you were too exhausted to leave, until your body had no other choice but to carry him a child.

And when he finally does spill into you, coming with a grunt and a soft, "you're mine," you, the virgin princess finally understand the fuss over sex, and reply to him with an, "I love you."

Daemon fucks you until his bed is soiled with a mix of your come. He fucks you until every minute movement from him makes you shiver and whine. He fucks you until your skin is marked with tender bites. He fucks you until you beg for respite, and then he keeps himself inside you after.

You were a worn little thing, and yet you managed to have the energy to still cling to him as you dozed off.

He kisses your temple and sleeps soundly, knowing he's done it; he's made you his. That was irrefutable. Only a madman would deny him of you now. He basks in the pleasure of your body, and in the knowledge his baby sister so wholeheartedly trusted in him to let him do this.

One can only imagine, then, the mortified horror you felt when you were given to Lord Greyjoy anyway.

This was not part of the plan. You were meant to meet Daemon. He told you you were going to speak to the king together, and yet here your eldest brother was, ushering you towards your captor-husband to be.

"My princess," Dalton says, reaching a hand to you.

You stare at his glimmering eyes, finding nothing but malice and lust behind them. You turn to your brother for help. You do not want to touch this man.

Viserys offers you none and looks away. It hurts when he does so, especially since he does so with such apparently scorn. He smiles at the man, "greet your lord. You will soon be wed to him, sister."

You muster enough artificial interest to smile and take the man's hand. Goosebumps form on your skin when he kisses the back of your hand.

He notices and chuckles, rubbing where he kissed, "such demureness. Do not be frightened of me, my dragon. I would not hurt such a pretty thing."

You clasp your hands together after he releases you.

"Not unless you ask," he adds, bursting into a laugh.

Neither you or Viserys return the amusement. In fact, the latter's face contorts at the distasteful joke. His nostrils flare, "you dare jest such uncouth things in front of your king?"

Dalton Greyjoy is unbothered, but stifles his laughter. He clears his throat and bows, "my apologies, my king. Tis the Ironborn in me. I cannot help my nature, much like you cannot help yours."

You feel light headed the entirety of this interaction. The room feels like it was closing in on you, and you kept glancing at the door, praying that your other brother free you from this torment.

He does not do so. He does not come. In fact, you do not see Daemon anywhere the entire day.

Dalton keeps you by his side, taking your arm in his as he makes you stroll him around the Red Keep. You do so, of course, no matter how strong the urge to run away and hide from him was. The entire time, Dalton recounts his stories of battle, his stories at sea, his stories of life. He's sincere enough, but you are not interested in the slightest.

"I think you'd enjoy the feel of sea salt against your skin, just as much you enjoy the whip of the clouds," he grins with genuine enthusiasm.

Any response you have is put out by his next words.

"I can introduce you to my salt-wives."

"Salt-wives?"

"Aye," he says proudly, "I'd say I have about twenty, but I cannot assure you its accuracy."

You are horrified. Finally, you have the gall to pull away, "what?"

Dalton chuckles, somehow amused, but his brows furrow, as if irritated, "we Ironborn keep salt wives in our ships, to give us comfort and warmth when the sea gets too rough. Is this princess so sheltered to not know this?"

You curdle when he reaches for your neck.

"You needn't be jealous. You'd be my one and only rock wife."

You scowl at his condescending tone, "I thought that was just a wives' tale."

He laughs. It is rich, amused, and foreboding. He shakes his head, "it's about as much of a wives' tale as your dragons are, princess."

Later that night, you weep at the king's feet, begging him not to marry you off to such a man.

Viserys does not hear it, and it is only then that Daemon finally appears.

When he does, it's as if the gods themselves breathed life into you. Quickly, you run into him and sob into his chest.

Daemon holds you tightly and glares at the king, "what have you done to her?"

Viserys scoffs. The dark room, illuminated only by the fireplace and a few lit candles, feels to him like it's darkened because of Daemon. He shifts where he sits, "I? I found her a husband."

Daemon's eye twitches, "you gave her to me! You said it just this morning."

You look up at Daemon, hopeful at the sound of his words.

"I said I would think about it once you report your patrol at the City Watch to me."

Daemon releases you to impose on his brother, "I kept your city clean from crimes and safe for the people."

"And where did you go after?" Viserys narrows his eyes.

You rub your arms as you watch your brothers argue.

Daemon does not respond.

Viserys turns to you, "tell your beloved sister where you went after your patrols."

Daemon does not move.

Your chest tightens at the silence, "... Daemon."

The said man opens his mouth, "I went to get a dri-"

"A whorehouse!" Viserys blurts, rising from his seat to glare at Daemon. He turns back to you, pushing past him, "I would know. I paid every whore in Fleabottom to seduce him."

Your heart leaps into your mouth, "w-what?"

Daemon is stunned.

"See now," Viserys is close enough to clutch your cheeks, "your beloved brother is a man like all the rest. No more is the dragon righteous than the kraken."

Your eyes begin to fog with tears. Your hands begin to tremble. Why was he doing this to you?

"Greyjoy is no less a dog than the rest of us. He at least, is honoring a tradition. Daemon honors only his cock."

You turn to Daemon, hoping to find this was not the case, but his expression says it all. Youlet a pained whimper, "you teach me so cruelly, brother."

"I teach you," he swipes your tears with his thumbs, "for your own good."

"You fucking--"

You scream in terror as Daemon lunges at Viserys. You reel back and watch as the two crash down to the floor, the younger of the two finding the upper hand. They roughly struggle against each other.

It only takes another scream from you, begging them to stop, for the kingsguards to burst into the room.

You can no longer stay screaming when Daemon grabs Viserys by the collar and slams him repeatedly against the ground, especially not when Viserys claws at Daemon's face to get him off. You dash forward just as the guards order the prince to stop.

You grab Daemon's arm, and out of instinct, he swats you back, hand hitting your nose with rage powered force.

You shoot back into a kingsguard, feeling your face throb in pain.

It takes Viserys screaming your name for Daemon to stop.

The impact of hitting the armored man makes your back twinge, but it does not hurt nearly as much as the back handed hit you received from your brother.

The kingsguard catches you and stands you upright. He quickly asks if you are alright, but doesn't wait for an answer because he then shoves Daemon back, putting himself between him and you when he tries to come near.

Daemon glares in offence.

"Throw him in the fucking dungeon," Viserys spits out as he is helped up by another guard.

Daemon fights back, but is no match against three guards.

He screams your name as he is dragged off.

You clutch your face as he tells you he didn't mean to hit you. You face throbs as he tells you he loves you, and only you.

For once, you doubt his words.

Viserys comes to your side, placing a gentle hand in your shoulder. You watch as he commands a servant to get something for your hit.

He clutches your cheek that was struck and sighs, "if you wed the Red Kraken, you will strengthen our hold on the Iron Lands. Dalton Greyjoy is a formidable warrior. I couldn't think of a more capable man to safekeep the Jewel of the Realm."

As he stroked your hair, you realized that Viserys was right. It didn't matter who it was, all men were the same. When your septa warned you of men's depravity, you believed your brothers to be the exception. Now, you knew exactly why you were called-

"Little lamb," Viserys coos, "I only want what is best for all of us."

You were too naive to believe in good things.

And so you marry Dalton Greyjoy the next day.

The haste with which the wedding is prepared is to prevent you from changing your mind, you figured. That, and to keep Daemon in prison for the least amount of time.

Part of you wanted to visit him, but part of you wanted him to suffer. In the end, you realized you were too weak to behold your brother as a prisoner.

Daemon screams and bangs at his bars, demanding he be released. But the prison guards have handled worse and throw cold water at him to shut him up.

He knew by the time he was free, he would be too late to stop your marriage, but still, he meticulously planned what he would do the moment he was.

That night, after the wedding festivities were over, Dalton takes you to your room and makes you his wife.

"It's been a while since I've had a virgin," Dalton says, caressing your cheek, "don't worry, I will be gentle."

You want to scream, you want tofight him back, but you remember you're not a virgin, and fear paralyzes you. You mumble, "m-my dragon riding."

Dalton pushes back bour silver hair and kisses your shoulder.

You can't help but think of Daemon in this moment, but it makes you feel sick, and so you will him out of your head. You mumble again, "my dragon riding may taken my womanhood."

Dalton pulls away and stares at you for a moment.

"I- I was told as a child, it happened to many Targaryen princesses."

He pulls his hands, which were on your hips, away then shoves you down on your bed. He smirks as he undoes his clothing, "then I can be rough with you, aye?"

You quiver at his gaze.

He laughs, shaking his head, "didn't I say I would not hurt you? Unless under your request?"

You push inch back as he crawls over. He grabs your ankle, then the other, causing you to panic. You instinctively kick him off, but instead of being deterred, he is excited.

"Sh, sh, sh," he hushes, "it will not be unpleasant, my dragon."

Your skin pricks with gooseflesh when he removes your shoes, your socks, and sneaks his hand up your skirt.

You whimper and turn away, finding you could no longer kick back when he seizes your knees.

"Please-"

"Shhh," he hushes, giving you the first solemn look he has this entire day he's been smug, "I've had much practice from my salt wives. You, my rock wife, will taste the fruits of my practice... as I taste you."

You gasp when he suddenly rips your underwear off.

" I swear to you, your body will enjoy it, even if your mind wants you to believe otherwise."

You muffle your mouth with your palm when you feel Dalton sink in between your thighs.

He was right.

The entire time he touches you, it feels like your skin was being scorched. Your heart was not in it, but your body twisted in pleasure. You hated that you longed for Daemon, even after the fact you were not enough for him; he was still the only one you still, and this moment proved it.

You were brought to tears at how pathetic it was. Tears streamed as you reached your peak, one of the many you receive from your... husband.

He handled you with carnal instinct, just as Daemon did, but unlike him, Dalton did not kiss your tears. In fact, he did not kiss your face once. It is you that initiates such a thing, amidst the throes of your lewd pleasure. He grabs your jaw when your lips connect, and quickly releases his load into you after.

Your peak is cut short because he pulls out just when you reach it.

You watch as he rolls over and goes to sleep without another word.

The next morning, the servants call you Princess Greyjoy and it haunts you.

"No need to look so sullen, wife," you hear over your shoulder.

If the cold from the early morning wasn't enough to make you shiver, the kiss on your shoulder was.

The ship rocks as you tear your gaze away from King's Landing, King's Landing that looked so tiny now from where you stood. A sea of tears laid between you and the home that will never be yours again. You turn to Dalton. He leans his elbows on the edge of the ship and looks up at you, "we can do many things to liven your mood."

You watch him as he rubs your hips. Your stomach curdles but you manage to offer a smile, "I... am flattered, but I do not want to distract the captain of this ship."

Dalton chuckles and straightens up, "trust me. The crew would appreciate it if you did."

You squeak when he yanks you into him.

"Right boys?!" he calls loudly, "shall I make a salt wife out of my rock wife?!"

The crew cheers and it makes your skin burn in mortification.

The next thing you know, you are thrown over his shoulder. He slaps your ass and takes you to his quarters. The crew laughs as he does.

You helplessly grunt when he drops you on his bed-- your shared bed. You silently peer up at him as he stares at you. You are releived he paces across the room, towards his table. He grabs something and chucks it at you. You flinch but manage to catch it.

He sits on the table as you inspect the pouch. You open it, finding herbs inside.

"I heard you've been drinking that," he says.

You look up at him.

"Haven't you?" he asks.

You smell it and wretch. It smells exactly like-

"Moon tea," Dalton says, making your blood run cold, "for the bastard in your belly.*

You are frozen in your spot. Your stomach drops when he stands and walks over. He grabs your chin. It is not harsh, but it strikes fear in you anyway.

"I asked you a question, wife."

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"HAVE YOU BEEN TAKING THE FUCKING TEA OR NOT?" he screams, grabbing your neck.

Your hands fly to his grip. Your fingers attempt to pry him away.

You wheeze when he squeezes you. Your flail your legs and try to kick him off. You can't. Just as your vision begins to go dark, he releases you. You fall onto the bed and frantically try to catch your breath. You cough and hear him smash things around the room.

As so you behold the man who said he would not hurt you unless you asked him, brutalize the furniture.

You think your chances are better in the sea rather than on this boat. You slowly maneuver towards the door while he is distracted. Just as you are about to sprint, he grabs you and throws you back down on his bed.

"You stupid slut!" he screams, "you think you can run?!

You try to scream for help, but the pain in your throat when you try to stops you. Not a second later, you scream anyway.

He slaps you across the face, promptly silencing you. The sting is ten times worse than what Daemon did.

"I was promised a Targaryen princess, not some whore of a dragon!" he screams, kicking the chair by his desk across the room. He laughs angrily, shaking his head, "dragon riding, my arse."

Your heart drops as he storms over, "who's the father of your bastard child?!"

Indistinguishable sounds leave your lips.

"ANSWER ME!" he demands, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you to your feet. Your head recoils at the sheer force of it. You take a moment to steady your head.

Your eyes search Dalton's enraged features, hoping to chance upon a sliver of compassion... in vain. The sound that leaves your mouth is response to the bruising squeeze of your arms. You cannot help but whimper as tears stream down your cheeks, "you're hurting me."

He is further angered by this. He gives you a powerful shake. Your head lashes back again and you scream.

"Give me a name!" erupts the lord.

You no longer have it in you to hold your tongue, and so you confess, "Daemon!"

Dalton releases you. He is repulsed, "your brother?" He scoffs, "you revolting, little worm," he slaps you across the face, making you lose your balance.

Before you crash into anything, he grabs you again and keeps you upright. You can feel your cheek and lips swell at his assault.

"And here they had me believing you were some meek lamb," he laughs dryly, brushing your hair back, "you're nothing but a whore, grown from perversion and abomination."

Your expression hardens. You glare at him and rebut, though your head was pounding, "and your sea rituals are more righteous than my family traditions?"

Without another word, Dalton shoves you back, propelling you into his desk. Your skull crashes against the edge with a horrendous thud.

You fall limp onto the floor. Dalton cares little if you were dead or unconscious. He walks out of the room right before he can witness the red staining your white hair.

Dalton is no fool. He knows better than to disfigure a Targaryen princess.

He walks towards the wheel of the ship and continues the course to what his crew believed to be a shortcut to home. In truth, he was bringing the ship to its doom, to face you with with a trail of the sea.

He would crash the ship into a chokehold of rocks, and if you survived, if he found your floating body, he would keep you, as you proved your resilience. But if you were swallowed into the depths, if he was unable to find you in the debris, he would praise the Drowned god for your riddance.

The same want with his crew.

Of course, there was a bit of this that felt like suicide, but he knew he was too vengeful to die, so he knew he had nothing to fear.

When the Greyjoy ship finally reached the rocky pass, Dalton was promptly warned of the danger by his lookout, who he obviously ignored.

He ordered to hoist the sails, and, blindly, the crew followed, even through apparent worry.

It didn't take very long after for the ship to crash into the cliffs.

The crew clamors. They scream and panic, turning to their captain that could not care less. He pretends to steer them to safety, but he actually slammed them further into their demise.

The deck begins to crumble. The mast snaps. The sails break off. Dalton calls to abandon ship.

The crew don't need any more convincing.

One by one, each man for their own, they try to escape with their life.

By the time Dalton jumps off the ship, the thing is half submerged in the water, crumbs of it on the side of a rock.

It was pure chaos.

Dalton swims far enough from the destruction, and knows the gods smiled upon him and his decision when he sees a large wooden slab he can climb on.

He does just that and looks out to his crew, helping the ones that manage to swim over, commanding the others calling for help to simply swim or drown.

He looks around, trying to make out a body of a woman, a blob of a dress, a head of silver hair in the aftermath.

"My wife," he screams, "has anyone seen my wife?!"

He wasn't concerned, of course. He just wanted to know his fate as a husband, but this did make for a good alibi.

His surviving men look and swim around for you. They find no trance.

Dalton presses his lips, "little dragon couldn't fly away."

They take refuge in a cliff. Lord Greyjoy tells his crew not to bitch and panic because they will surely be found by a passing ship soon enough.

He had planned this shipwreck after all.

By the time Dalton and his remaining men were saved, a flash of red circled in the setting sky, hovering over the massive rock that held the shipwreck that bore the sigil of Greyjoy.

Caraxes screeches as his rider commands him to get closer to the scene. The dragon hesitates but eventually lands on the cliff. Waves crash upon the area, causing the beast to bleat when he is wet.

Daemon is frantic as he gazes upon the destruction. He is distressed unlike he's ever been. His voice is distinctly desperate and hysterical. He screams out your name, even though it was nothing against the roar of the splashing waves.

He heaves heavily as he erratically decides to dismount and jump into the water.

As he wades, he tries to convince himself that what he was doing was for naught. Perhaps you were not here to begin with. But the gut feeling was overwhelming; it was sickening.

He tries to believe that bottom feeder, Greyjoy, saved you before his ship crumbled. He tries to convince himself that cunt's lust for you was enough reason to keep you alive.

But he remembers the servant he threatened with a knife whilst demanding to know which route your ship would take. He thinks of how he almost shit himself while confesssing to Daemon that Greyjoy planned to pass through a rocky region as a shortcut. But Daemon's flown over that area, and knew it was out of the way to the Iron Islands.

After squeezing out what's left from that servant, Daemon's face falls when he mentions that rusted octopus had an argument with a servant girl that came to serve the princess a cup of tea.

Daemon was no fool. Dalton was a butish barbarian. If he found out you were drinking Moon Tea, he would do his worst on you for blemishing his pride.

And so he swam. Daemon swam, dove down, and searched for your body until he had to stop because Caraxes was getting restless. He commanded him to calm down, but he could only do it so many times until he, himself, was the same.

He eventually gets back on Caraxes. Daemon can't bring himself to leave just yet however, and finds himself praying to whatever god out there to return his love back to him.

Caraxes circles the area one last time before heading off. For some reason, Daemon feels the urge to check underneath a large slab of shattered wood. He commands his mount to lift it, and the dragon screeches as he does what he can with his hind legs.

The sound that leaves the prince's mouth is what could be described as pure anguish.

A head of silver hair floats up and wafts in the water along with a tattered dress. Your body garnered a horrid tone of grey and you were missing your shoes.

Daemon cannot contain the tears that gush out of his eyes.

Caraxes carries your body in his claws all the way to the Keep.

The way in which he commands his ride to set your body down is frantic and incredibly detailed. Part of him realizes Caraxes probably recognized you, considering the way he laid on his belly and sniffed you as Daemon buckled to his knees and lamented over your stiff and frigid body.

He speaks to you in High Valyrian. His salty tears drip on your salt water drowned body. He promises he will never trick you, never argue with you, and never make you cry ever again if only you open your violet eyes.

He rocks back and forth with you in his arms, unsure which of you he was soothing by doing this.

He swears he will turn the sea red with blood and burn the whole Iron Islands to avenge you.

He is incredibly uncomfortable of the chill of your skin. He shakes his head, telling you dragons must not be kept cold. He kisses your face in an attempt to warm it up. He recounts a time where you accidentally spilled candle wax on him, burning his skin, and tells you that you still need to make up for your offence. He tells you he will forgive you if you simply hold him back.

Viserys had to account for three dragons by the time he found out what was happening, one was Daemon, whose grief morphed into murderous spite. He threatened to slay anyone who wanted to take you from him. Not again. Another was Caraxes, who refused to leave his heartbroken rider's side. The last was your dragon, who felt the loss of your connection, and went into a rabid state mourning.

It takes 5 people to secure your dragon in the pit, 5 people to subdue Caraxes, and 3 people to separate Daemon from your corpse.

The king takes a moment to clutch your hand. His face flinches. Where once your hand was so warm, no warmth now remained. He steps back and watches the maesters cover your body and take you away.

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runningfrom2am · 5 months

Text

leveling the playing field II

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows. also someone dies (but its not too graphic), mentions of blood and violence you guys get the vibes.

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a/n: embarrassed to say this is grabbing me by the cuff of my shirt and yanking me out of writer's block sorry to everyone who followed for drew's characters lmao. anyway idek if any of this is any good but as long as i'm writing something i'm pleased.

next part

Coriolanus clenched his jaw as he watched you eat from the plate of fruit your maid brought up after you called for tea, hoping that somehow you would just miss the sound of his stomach growling. He had said no, but you insisted because you were hungry. You don't even know what hungry feels like- he's already regretting letting you help him.

"So," You start, covering your mouth as you finish chewing so you could get down to strategy. If you were going to help, you had to go at this wisely. "What is your plan? Lay it out for me. I'll give you my thoughts."

"I talked to Tigris, she agreed that I need to get Lucy Gray to trust me." He tells you. "She said she would want someone here to care about her. That will have to be me."

"Okay." You nod, reaching for another slice of apple on the plate, trying to ignore the way his eyes track the fruit all the way from your plate to your lips. "So, I'm doing a more behind-the-scenes thing. I think that's better, for us and her. I don't want her to be overwhelmed."

"Yeah." Coryo agrees, staring at you. At this point, it's driving you crazy.

"Coryo." You state, pushing the dish across the coffee table in his direction. "Eat. Please."

"No, I couldn't." He tries to politely decline and you raise an eyebrow at him.

"I insist. It was made for two, I can't possibly stomach it all. It would be a shame for it to go to waste." You had laid your cards out just minutes earlier, making it clear you both knew more about each other's home lives than you cared to discuss, but that didn't mean you would torture him with it.

He hesitates before grabbing a slice and taking a few bites, looking past you and out the window. He wouldn't want it to go to waste like you said, after all.

"I won't tell anyone, you know." You say, your tone walking a line between joking and being serious. He'll interpret that in whatever way he chooses, and you're okay with that.

"I should be going, actually." He says, dropping the other half of the apple slice back onto the dish and standing up, smoothing the creases in his slacks.

You stand up as well, making your way to the door and ringing the bell that summons your maid. "I'll walk you out, just give me a second." You explain to him, and by the time you're done your sentence, she is there looking at you expectantly. "Take these leftovers and pack them up for my friend." You tell her, pointing to the mostly full plate. "And pack some of those pastries you made for his family as well, if you don't mind. Oh! And that bread, it will go bad soon if someone doesn't eat it." She just nods silently as you speak, walking past you to take the plate before leaving.

"Thank you." Coriolanus mutters through gritted teeth once your maid is out of earshot.

"Like I said," You smile. "I don't want it to go to waste."

The morning the tributes arrived, Coriolanus was late to class. He had never been late to class, not once, and you would know- because you hadn't either. Not that you were worried, but it was almost the only thing you could think about. It was odd, but he must have gone to greet Lucy Gray. That would be the only thing that made sense.

"Your little excursion is in violation of about five Academy rules, Mister Snow." Dean Highbottom says as the blonde boy walks in, uniform disheveled as he finds his seat across the room from you.

You make eye contact only briefly with him as the Dean goes on about how endangering the life of a student is against the rules, and your friend would be accumulating a demerit over the whole thing.

From what you can gather, he did go see Lucy Gray, which went farther than he intended when he ended up escorting her all the way into the monkey cage at the zoo. To you, that was comically appropriate. To Sejanus, it was a crime. Of course it was, his heart never left District Two. As much as you had your differences, Sejanus was a kind boy. You did like him, only after you got it through your mind that if you were to leave the Capitol, you would always be Capitol at heart. You're pulling on a loose string on the hem of your uniform sleeve, more, more, until you've almost undone the whole length of your wrist. When the thread breaks you want to hit something, for little to no reason, and you bite into your bottom lip.

You don't even know why you're so mad. You have a short fuse and you know that, maybe it's about Coryo. Maybe it's about your sleeve that's now slightly longer on one side.

You're drawn from your thoughts as Clemensia stands up from her seat next to Coryo, addressing Dr. Gaul who, as far as you know, had only been in the room for a minute or so. "Coriolanus and I do all our assignments together, I think it would be fitting for us to write up the proposal together too. I have some good ideas for things to be incorporated into the games along with betting." Your eyes roll so hard at this that it makes your head ache.

"I brought her a rose from Grandma'am's garden and she ate it. She needs food." Coryo tells you, walking alongside you down the hall.

"I'll get something together for her. Would you like to come with me to pick it up and then we can go to the zoo?" You ask, adjusting your shoulder bag as he holds the front door open for you.

"Okay. Are you sure you should come?"

"If you would like me to." You shrug, leading him in the direction of your parent's town car.

He thinks on it for a moment. Does he want you to meet Lucy Gray? You were technically also her mentor, even if you were taking a backseat. It struck him again, harder somehow, when he met her in person how similar she was to you. Besides the distinct accent, every word that came out of her mouth sounded as though it could have been written in a script by you. If you were district, that is. It was hard to wrap his mind around.

"I would." He finally answers, more so on impulse than resulting from his thought process.

You smile, linking your arm around his as you approach the vehicle.

"Then we can drop you at Clem's. if you'd like." You offer bitterly and he just gives a curt nod in response.

After getting your maid to pack some food for Lucy Gray with some extra for the two of you, assuming you would be gone for the evening, you got a ride to the zoo. The atmosphere was exciting, with people and children crowding the bars- this time including a few of your classmates. Sejanus, which you had expected, and Arachne- no doubt there to get attention.

"Lucy Gray!" Coryo called out, summoning the girl toward the two of you as you approached the bars marking the edge of the enclosure.

"Well hello, Coriolanus. You brought a friend, care to introduce us?" She smiles, looking between the two of you. Admittedly, you admire her poise, given the situation. Politeness in front of the cameras was a must- she's doing an exemplary job in humanizing herself.

"Lucy Gray, this is my friend Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, meet Lucy Gray." He nods between the two of you and you reach through the bars to shake her hand.

"Hello. Pleasure to meet you." You smile at her, which she returns.

"You as well." She nods, clearly impressed as she looks between you and Coryo. You had decided back at your home to not introduce yourself as another mentor, just as a friend, after gushing the reaction to the other tributes thinking Lucy Gray was getting special treatment this morning when her mentor was the only one to show up. "Coriolanus, is Miss Y/L/N here your sweetheart?"

His face flushes red as he shakes his head, refusing to look at you. You laugh, not noticing his change in undertone as you answer for him. "No, no. Just a friend." You explain, digging in your bag for her food, wanting to quickly change the subject. "We brought you this." You hold out the napkin for her, containing a sandwich, a couple of desserts, and some plums.

"Oh wow, thank you!" Lucy Gray smiles, accepting it gratefully. "Hey, Jessup! Come eat." She calls out to the other tribute from her district, who you remember was assigned to Lysistrata Vickers.

He comes over, but doesn't acknowledge either of you as Lucy Gray holds out one of the dessert bars to him. "I'm not hungry."

"It won't do you any good to starve now. You need your energy." Lucy Gray insists, practically shoving it into his hand.

"I hope you like blueberry." You cut in. "It's a blueberry biscuit with pistachio filling. Made fresh this morning- I promise it's good."

He doesn't say anything, taking it and retreating to the rock he was previously sitting on to eat.

"Will you be sharing everything with him?" Coryo asks her quietly as he walks away.

"Why? So I can keep my energy up enough to strangle him? I don't think that will matter much in a few days."

"You can't trust anyone once the games start, so why trust them now?" You reply quietly, scanning over the other tributes, eyes landing on Arachne taunting her tribute. Of course she would- her arrogance never fails to impress you.

"Your friend over there seems just lovely." Lucy Gray says sarcastically, eyes following yours as you watch your classmate.

"Not our friend." You and Coryo respond at the same time.

"She's poison with perfect teeth." He continues and you nod.

"One thing I learned in twelve is that hunger is a weapon." Lucy Gray says. You're not sure what she means, but you nod anyway.

"Here, let's sit." You suggest, changing the subject as you crouch down to lay out a cloth on the ground to place the food on.

As you're laying it out carefully between the bars for Lucy Gray, you can feel Coryo's eyes burning into the backs of your hands. Lucy Gray notices this too, handing him a cookie from the pile.

"No, I couldn't." His default response. "You need it more than me."

"You were staring. Here, we'll share." She insists and he takes it gratefully, breaking off a piece and placing it in his mouth.

"Here..." You mumble, digging through your bag again and pulling out the glass container designated for his dinner. You place it in his lap, not giving him the chance to turn it down. "Packed it just for you."

He takes it off his lap, tensely getting up. "I'll be back in a moment." He tells you both, red uniform disappearing behind the small crowd.

"You can see it too?" Lucy Gray asks you, nibbling on half of a sandwich.

You nod slightly, eyes still trying to track him to see where he went, then landing on him talking to Sejanus who's desperately trying to get his tribute, Marcus, to eat some of the food he brought.

"He's quite sensitive about it." You explain. "I appreciate you being kind to him. No one else knows... I think. Regardless, you are very important to him."

She nods a little bit, watching you watch your friend. "Are you just buttering me up?" She jokes and you shake your head, returning your attention to the girl across from you.

"No, I mean it. It's more than the prize for us." You state. "Him." You quickly correct yourself. "I just want to help however I can, if you need anything else just ask, but I'll bring food every day. Or I'll send it with Coryo."

"Coryo, huh?"

"Well, yes. We've been friends for years."

"I see." Lucy Gray nods, both of you watching him make his way back over. You lift up his container of food and hand it to him before he even has the chance to sit down.

"What about you, Lucy Gray? Any friends back home? Family?" You ask, looking away from him as he sits. You want him to eat, but you know he would loathe you for watching, so you direct all your attention to her.

"I'm an orphan, just like Coryo here." She nods to him and his brows furrow at the nickname coming from someone new. "It's just me and the Covey."

"Covey?" You ask.

"Yeah, they're my family and we perform together. It's how we make our change."

"Well, you are a very talented singer. Jaws were on the floor in the Capitol during your performance." You smile.

"I'm not one to go quietly, that's all."

"I'm not either." You agree. "I think we'll be fine friends."

Just at that moment, the three of you hear a scream that has you turning your heads as fast as lightning over to the source, catching the end of Arachne getting her throat slit by her tribute. You and Coriolanus are on your feet in seconds, running over to try and help her just as gunfire rings out, taking down her tribute for the crime of her murder.

You pull off your blazer, both you and Coryo using it to try and stop the bleeding, but you could tell it was no use. By the time you look up, the crowd of spectators was completely gone having rushed for the exits during the attack.

Just as you both realize it's no use, and that she's already dead, you're being pulled away by peacekeepers.

"Hey! Let me go right this second!" You shout, trying to pull away.

"You kids have to get out of here." One of them answers blankly.

"I have to get my stuff!" You complain, trying to wiggle out of their strong grip. "You want me to leave my knife over within reach too? Are you stupid?"

They stop, sighing as they let you go. "Thank you." You huff, readjusting your shirt before walking back over to where you were just sitting with Lucy Gray, quickly gathering your things but leaving food for her.

"Lucy Gray, are you alright?" You ask, seeing her lying on the ground a few feet away from the bars now, just getting up.

She just nods, the fear in her eyes starting to cease.

"You're not shot?" You follow up with, looking over her at the same time she does.

"No, I'm fine. You go." She replies, standing up again and dusting off her dress.

"Thank god. Those idiots are awful shots!" You bite, looking back at the peacekeepers over your shoulder, Coriolanus now nowhere to be seen.

You stand up and pull your bag across your body, walking past them toward the exit as they attempt to guide you in the right direction. "Don't touch me!" You hiss, smacking their hands away.

"Coryo!" You call out, running to catch up with him in the academy hall the next morning. He slows down, glancing over his shoulder and stopping to wait for you.

"Y/N." He states, looking at you expectantly.

"Shall we go see Lucy Gray today?" You ask, reaching up to tighten your ponytail that had come loose in your jog.

"No." He shakes his head, continuing to walk and you follow after him.

"What? Why not? She needs us to bring her food, and we have to-"

"I'll discuss the games with her at the planned meeting this afternoon. You won't be going back to the zoo."

"Excuse me?" You ask, grabbing his arm to stop him in his tracks. "I know I'm like, your assistant, or whatever, but you will not tell me what I can and cannot do."

"It's too dangerous. They are dangerous." Coriolanus argues. "I won't have you ending up like Arachne."

He had been up all night writing his proposal for Dr. Gaul. It was the only thing that could get his mind off the death of his classmate, and off of you. What if it had been you? He should have known it was dangerous, it was his fault. It was his idea that the mentors get closer to the tributes and someone was killed. Arachne's blood was on his hands, and he was just relieved that it wasn't yours staining his uniform instead.

"No. No, she died because she was stupid." You whisper, looking around. "She taunted her tribute and handed her a knife, at that point it's natural selection. I am not her. I am smarter."

He stares down at you, scanning over your features as you beg him to let you continue to help. "You need me, Coriolanus. Admit that much to yourself."

"I don't need you," He spits back. "But I like you much better alive. You are the one person in this school I can stand, I won't lose you over something so reckless." He pulls his arm from your grasp and walks off.

You look around, seeing your classmates staring and you roll your eyes. "Take a picture or something." You say to no one in particular, prompting people to avert their eyes.

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#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coryo snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas x reader #tbosas fic #lucy gray #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #hunger games #thg

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missmonsters2 · 1 year

Text

Your Touch is My Shelter

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: 6 months later, Natasha returns from the dead. It's a tightly kept secret as it's unknown how she returned, but everyone claws and fights about who will keep watch over her like savages. You're far down the list of people who should protect her, but you find yourself unable to leave her be.

Warnings/Tags: hurt/comfort. undisclosed trauma. physical and mental signs of trauma. angst. somber assisted bath time. sad hair braiding. emphasis on hurt AND comfort.

Note: This takes place after endgame :-) the dates might be inaccurate idk i did my best 🥲 ha-ha enjoy 👁️👁️

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Count: 5.2k

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

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You heard the news through Bruce.

Well, it was through Bruce telling Pepper, and you just happened to be at the coffee machine getting shitty coffee. The quality drastically dropped since Tony was gone, and you've been putting off telling Pepper she needed to literally buy anything else.

You didn't really know how long was the appropriate time for someone to grieve before you could ask if they could buy another brand of coffee.

Tony was gone.

A part of you thinks you keep putting off telling Pepper because then you'd have to face—really face—he was gone.

Steve was gone.

What did it matter, really, in the grand scheme of things? Coffee was just coffee, and it'd probably taste fine if you just put a shitload of sugar and creamer in it.

Vision was gone.

Honestly, you only really noticed because it was the same brand as whatever was stocked up at the Avengers Compound.

Natasha was gone.

But perhaps the coffee always tasted bad at the Compound and it had nothing to do with Tony being gone. Natasha used to bring coffee into the office most days for people, and Clint filled in the other days.

Maybe Tony Stark just liked shitty coffee, and you were only now just noticing it.

Natasha was back.

Your hand faltered at the coffee machine, spilling a little of it on your hand, and the burn stung immediately.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked as he noticed you inhale a sharp breath.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You smiled awkwardly at him before looking at Pepper. "Morgan's fine. She just has the flu and her fever's gone down. Make sure she gets plenty of rest and fluids. I'm going to set up a humidifier for her and help her settle into bed with a movie and wait for her to fall asleep before I head out."

Pepper let out a heavy breath, putting her hand over her chest in relief. "Oh, perfect. Thank you so much for coming suddenly. I just—Morgan doesn't really like going to the hospital, and suddenly she started throwing up and having a fever—"

"It's fine, Pepper," you waved off her ramblings after you wiped what you spilled on the counter. "You can always call me if you need me."

"Seriously, I think I might just employ you full-time as a live-in doctor if you say that," Pepper joked, and you laughed.

"I am already your live-in doctor, just for one of your research labs. instead."

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You don't think about Natasha—at least, you try not to.

You heard things here and there about it through Pepper. Apparently, she's being held in a government facility similar to The Raft, detained like some criminal they needed to study instead of the war hero who sacrificed everything to save the world.

It made you sick to your stomach.

But you hear that Clint, Bruce, and Nick Fury have been fighting to get custody of her, so you don't think about it. There were people who knew Natasha far better than you did and were way closer to her than you were.

She was in good hands.

So, you continue on with your daily routine to pass your monotonous days, unaware you're waiting for some kind of update.

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The next time you heard about Natasha Romanoff, it was Clint and Bruce cornering you at your lab.

"What?" You panicked, tensing up. "Why me?"

"You're the only person Natasha ever sought out to treat her," Clint answered, and you felt even more lost at the fact he knew. "Natasha allows medical professionals onsite to help her, but there were times she left to go see you. That has to mean something."

But, of course, he knew. He was Natasha's...best friend. And Clint was an incredibly nosy person, even if Natasha didn't tell him.

"I've only treated her a handful of times—literally only five times. I don't know her that well," you shook your head, trying to walk around them. "I didn't even know she had a sister until you told me."

"Please," Clint begged. "I'm fighting to get her out, and the doctors they have looking after her are shady and callous with her. I can only visit her with Nick's influence, but it's not enough to get her out of there."

"And what do you suppose I can do?"

"You're a renowned cellular biologist," Bruce cut in. "If they're holding her for research, we want someone on our side who will at least treat her like a human being. The faster we get answers, the faster we can get her out."

"Please," Clint begged again. "Natasha needs help. She's...different. And it's only going to get worse if she remains in there. She's not talking, and they won't let her go until they can find some answers."

It felt wrong.

You don't want to study Natasha Romanoff like an animal. Despite being a scientist with an inquisitive mind, you don't care about how she returned.

But it sounded like Natasha would be researched whether you liked it or not. And if that was the case, you do wonder how the other doctors may be treating her.

"Fine, we're going first thing in the morning," you gritted out, unable to block out the handful of memories of times you've treated her.

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June 2012

"Oo, that looks painful," you hissed in sympathy as a redhead with a busted lip and nasty gash on her temple entered the med bay.

There was a snort that sounded like a half-grunt. "It looks worse than it feels. I hope I'm not intruding, but Tony said I should see you to be treated."

"Natasha, right?" You asked slowly, gesturing to a seat for her to take as you grabbed some medical supplies.

"Yes," Natasha replied, equally slow with caution.

"Tony talks about you a lot," you tried to reassure her of whatever paranoia she might have. It probably didn't help that Natasha was still in her catsuit and probably would've preferred to be called by her alias.

"Well, don't believe everything he says," Natasha gives a light but somewhat tight smile.

"Oh, so you aren't a unique woman with high intellect, sneaky, and rightfully smug?" You teased, and it was flattering that you could make a superhero laugh.

You began treating Natasha's wound carefully.

"You're pretty good at this, doc," Natasha commented as you blew on her brow, even if it didn't sting. "You're pretty gentle. Must be why Tony says you're his personal doctor."

You chuckled. "I'm actually a cellular biologist. Tony is funding my research and pretty much my lifestyle. With the money he's paying me, he can come crying about his boo-boos anytime. Although, he doesn't really come to me for serious stuff. It's usually if he has something ridiculous like a papercut."

"But you can treat wounds and other medical things?"

"I was on my way to becoming a medical doctor before I decided to go into research instead."

"Huh," Natasha hummed, raising her brow at you. "Smart cookie."

"I'd like to think so," you finished cleaning Natasha's wound and putting a bandaid over it. "Feel free to come see me if you need any other basic medical aid. For a pretty redhead, it's free of charge."

"And if I come back blonde?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," you smiled, and Natasha smirked back at you.

"Smart and funny. Tony has it too good."

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April 2014

"This is the worst bandage job I've ever seen. Who did you go to see for this? A grocery clerk?"

Natasha grunted. "Hi, to you too, doc."

You looked at Natasha, noticing how different her hair is now. But it's been about two years since you have seen her. Despite your offer for her to come to you anytime she needed help, she never did. Or she rarely did, you supposed.

You could only deduce that Natasha was used to caring for her wounds on her own. That, or she didn't trust you.

"Alright, let's go to my office," you sighed.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Not really, kind of hit a brick wall."

"Oh, me too."

You looked over at Natasha, who had a straight face, but you noticed the bruise on her temple outside the obvious gun wound on her shoulder.

You pursed your lips. "Will you hate me if I laugh?"

"Not at all. On the contrary, I may like you less if you don't."

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June 2015

"You know, when I told you that you could come for me for basic medical aid, I feel like you didn't understand the meaning of basic."

"Is this too complicated for you?"

"No."

"Then am I unwelcomed?"

You pursed your lips at the redhead, who stared at you with a tiny upward quirk on her lip. "No," you sighed. "Just not sure why you'd want to see me for such serious wounds. There are other more experienced doctors."

You lift Natasha's shirt up, looking at the long gash on the side of her stomach. "We're gonna need to stitch this up. I've been doing research with Dr. Cho, and we have a new machine that can help with cell tissue generation. It would be faster than me manually stitching—"

"It's fine," Natasha declined. "I'd prefer if you manually did it."

You frown lightly at the fact but relent to the redhead's wishes. Another year passes, and Natasha's hair has changed again.

You worked silently on cleaning Natasha's wound, and she also declined the anesthetic. You focus on stitching up the wound with precision and care.

"I like to go to you for some things because your touch is gentle," Natasha said quietly, but it felt so loud in the silent room. "It makes me feel human when I can feel your touch."

You looked over at her face briefly, but Natasha wasn't looking at you. You don't take any deeper meaning into it. She's someone who's probably felt dehumanized most of her life. The machines that can heal her twice as fast would be fine for life-threatening injuries, but it probably all feels clinical.

You looked back down at the stitch. "Well, as long as you're a redhead, it's free of charge."

"Don't kid yourself, I would look perfect blonde."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

September 2016

"What are you doing here?" You hissed as you pulled Natasha in quickly, peering outside before shutting the door.

"Why? Am I unwelcomed now?" Natasha's tone sounded a little hurt, and you scan her body. She didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere that required immediate attention, but you did notice crusted blood at the edge of her nostrils.

"No, but you could get caught here," you shook your head at her. "They're looking for you and the rest of team cap everywhere."

Natasha shrugged. "I highly doubt Tony has your place under surveillance. We don't meet enough for anyone to consider looking for me through you."

You sighed, not sure what to feel about the statement. "I suppose. I don't work for Tony anymore, anyway."

Natasha's brows furrowed.

"Why?"

"I don't agree with what he's doing."

"So you're on Steve's side?"

"No, I think Steve was obstinate too. They're both stupid. Men are stupid."

Natasha laughed before wincing as she held her nose.

"What happened?" You brought her over to your couch before finding your first aid kit.

"I broke my nose," Natasha shrugged. "Can you believe breaking my nose saved millions of girls?"

"With you? Yes." You smirked as you tilted her head to look at the injury closer. "Lucky you. Looks like you don't need surgery. Do you always come here immediately after you save the world?"

"Yep."

"Couldn't even clean your nose before you did?"

"And deprive you of giving me care? I wouldn't dare."

You snorted, carefully cleaning the blood in and around her nose. It was silent again before Natasha spoke up.

"So, what happened with your research stuff now that Tony's not sponsoring your work?"

"Pepper is funding it, even though she knows I won't share anything with Stark Industries at the moment. She doesn't want me to sell my research or provide any data to other companies."

"Smart cookie."

"And a really hot blonde."

"This feels targeted. It's like you know I might dye my hair blonde soon."

"You're still a redhead; I have no idea what you mean. I like your hair, though. Braids look good on you."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

June 2018

Natasha showed up at your front step, holding her rib. There's a look of genuine relief at seeing you.

"You're still here," her voice sounds empty and hollow. "You're still here."

You pulled her inside gently. You're still in shock yourself. You were on a walk when people started disappearing left and right. The sheer panic on the streets was chaos as you were dialing Pepper frantically, almost crying when she picked up the phone. Then there were actual tears when you called other people in your life, and half of them didn't pick up...and they weren't going to.

"I'm here," you swallowed. "What happened to your rib?"

"I don't know." Natasha looked so lost. There was the look of failure and self-blame all over her face.

"Does it hurt?"

"I don't know."

You grasp her wrist, carefully moving her hand away from her rib before gently putting your fingertips against them. Your fingers trail up, down, and around.

Suddenly, Natasha broke into tears.

"Does it hurt?" You asked, panicked.

"You're still here," was all Natasha choked through her tears.

You didn't know what to do other than treat her wounds more gently than ever before while reassuring her you hadn't disappeared. You were one of the many people on this planet still here. And when she was better, she'd get the rest of them back.

It was a long and exhausting night, and Natasha fell asleep in your bed, and you made sure she was comfortable before leaving to sleep on the couch.

Natasha's hair has changed again.

"You look good blonde."

That was the last time you saw her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha's hair has changed again. She's gone back to being a redhead with blonde tips. Her hair was a mess, barely brushed, and looked knotted.

The room was big and had padded walls, a singular bed in one corner, and a toilet and sink in another. There were lights in parts of the cell but also areas of darkness. It looked like a fucking prison cell.

You were looking through an unbreakable glass window, the middle holding up a microphone you assumed was linked to the speaker in the room.

Natasha stood in the middle of the room under the light in a hospital gown falling off her shoulder. Her hands were covered in scars, and her lips were so chapped, you were sure they'd split even if Natasha breathed the wrong way.

Natasha was only a few feet away from you, but it felt like she was a million miles away.

They let you see her alone under the guise of privacy as you saw her.

You felt you weren't supposed to see this—see her like this.

A sense of dread filled you at the blank expression on Natasha's face at what she'd gone through—what she was still going through.

She was a hero, and this was how they were treating her? This was someone who had fought wars repeatedly for this stupid country and the rest of the world, and they had her locked up like a mental ward patient from the 1600s.

You thought the government had gotten better. There were reforms and peace after people came back from the snap. This wasn't how they were supposed to treat someone who'd given up their life to ensure everyone got theirs.

It shouldn't matter that she came back; she had still given it up in the first place for them.

Natasha didn't even seem to recognize you through the glass as you stepped closer to the microphone. She looked past you as if she could tell the exit was somewhere behind you.

"Natasha?" You said into the mic, and it bellowed into the room.

Nothing.

"Nat?"

Natasha's eyes were listless. She was a broken, empty shell that seemed more like an animated corpse than actually being alive.

You swallowed, trying one more time. "You're still a redhead. Looks like it's still free of charge."

Natasha's eyes flickered this time, her head tilts towards you as she blinked with focus. It was just a spark, but it was something, and relief spreads through you.

"Not completely." You could barely hear her voice, but it was coarse. Cold.

There should've been a joke about some kind of discount, but Natasha didn't make it. You were speechless.

You didn't know what to say. Don't worry, you're trapped in here, but I'm going to help with the research, and hopefully, we'll get you out soon?

It was like prolonging a death sentence. You were horrified.

"Just—wait for me," the words flew out of your mouth so fast but you meant them with every ounce of your being. "You're gonna go home with me today."

Natasha's eyes sparked at the words but just as quick as you saw it, they died out, falling back into listlessness. She turned, stepping into a darkened corner away from your view and prying eyes of the cameras as she said, "No, I'm not."

You realized she's probably spent weeks watching Clint, Bruce, and Fury try to get her out unsuccessfully.

The resignation made something lurch in your throat and eyes sting with desperation and rage.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"So, we can send you a contract—"

"You're going to release her to my custody," you cut off some government official. He was old, wearing some kind of toupee that was slicked back to hide his balding head.

He looked at you in disbelief, almost laughing like you were some stupid, naive young girl.

He looks at Clint and Bruce, who are also just looking at you in shock.

"As I've told your friends and Nick Fury, this is out of their hands. The Accords are still intact as of right now, therefore—"

"I don't care about the Accords. You will release her into my care. I'm more than qualified and I have the resources to find the inane answers you're looking for while rehabilitating Agent Romanoff," you cut him off again, able to tell that it was irking him.

"That won't be necessary as you can see we have the resources here," the government official raised his brow at you.

"Your resources can't compete with Stark's resources."

It was no secret that Tony had left a very sizable fortune to you in his will, outside of everything he gave to Pepper and Morgan. And it was also no secret how close you were with the surviving Starks.

"Doctor," the government official sighed, obviously making it sound like you were a nuisance. "If you're not here to join our research team, I suggest you go on your way and remember the NDA you signed."

You glared at him even more. "I'm not leaving without Agent Romanoff. You will hand her over to me, or you will regret it."

"And exactly how will I regret it?" The government official looked smug, and you smirked back at him.

"I'm still in talks with the government regarding my research, and I will pull out and sell that information outside of this country as I'm free to do so. I know Dr. Cho is in talks between the US and South Korea about her nano-technology. One word from me, and America can fall behind on those advancements as well." You pulled out your cell phone in a threatening manner. "Pepper and I will pull out all of our money from the very same banks and company investments that you're supporting and make you watch as they collapse one after another."

"You'd ruin our entire economy—our country by doing so!" The official was red in the face. "You'd put your entire country into chaos?" He sneered at you.

"I will if you don't give me Agent Romanoff!" You sneered back at him. "It's not like you won't eventually get your research and answers if she's in my custody. It works in both our favor."

The official is staring at you, glaring and seething.

"I imagine your colleagues and superiors will pin the blame on you if this entire economy and country goes into ruin because if I have to do that, I will say that it's the government's fault. The NDA said I can't specifically talk about Natasha and this place, which I won't. But I'm sure some journalist will discover the truth and plaster all over the news what you're doing to a war hero," your voice was so vindictive; you're not sure if you've ever been so cold before.

"So," your voice was flat, devoid of emotion now. "What will it be?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was agreed that Natasha would stay in a cabin that Pepper owned out in the countryside. You were to provide monthly updates on your research and rehabilitation progress. And while this was in headway, neither you nor Natasha was free to leave the country or this planet.

Clint initially wanted you and Natasha to stay with him and his family, but you declined. You pointed out that it would be hard for him and his family—his children, especially—to see Natasha like this.

Pepper had everything prepared while you gingerly collected Natasha.

"We're going home, Natasha," you said softly, shrugging off your jacket to wrap around her shoulders. But Natasha still didn't react, even if she let you take her hand and drag her out of the facility.

During the car ride, you mentally planned what you needed to do. Natasha needed to eat, take a bath, and rest.

"Have you eaten yet?" You asked the redhead, sitting stoically in the car, straight as a rod.

There was no answer. Natasha was peering out the windshield, her hands perfectly on both thighs. Clint looked worried as he looked at you.

"Natasha?" You gently placed her hand over hers. You could feel the bumps of the white scars over her hand. A part of you is too frightened to ask where she got these from.

Natasha looked down at your hand over hers before looking at you. Her eyes were so empty. Such a dull green like dying grass.

"Did you eat?"

Natasha nodded once before looking back outside the windshield.

You looked at Clint, trying to give him a reassuring smile, but deep down, you were afraid you had no idea what the fuck you were doing.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Pepper says you've been here before, but let me know if you need help finding anything," you brought her into the house where Natasha just stood, looking at nothing in particular.

"Um," you took a shaky breath. "How about a bath? I'm sure it'll be good to get the grime and stale air off of you."

Natasha didn't move on her own, so you began to lead her up the stairs to the bathroom.

It was a detached tub near the high window to get plenty of sunlight without anyone being able to peer in.

"I'll just get this started for you," you offered. Turning on the tap and pouring in a liquid that formed into bubbles. "Just make sure to check the temperature and adjust. Pepper says that sometimes that faucet can be a little finicky."

You turned to Natasha, who stood there, staring at the wall. She was unmoving, making no gesture if she was waiting for you to get out or to start undressing.

"Do you, um, need help?" You asked, but there was no answer.

Maybe it would wake her up a little once she was in the water.

"I'm—" you took a long breath in. "I'm gonna help you undress and get into the tub. If you get uncomfortable at any point, let me know and I can stop or do something else."

It wasn't like you've never seen a naked body before. You've seen plenty both in your sex life and field of work. You've even seen parts of Natasha's body when you've treated her. You just never thought you'd see Natasha fully naked.

You slid your jacket off her shoulders, letting out a puff of breath. You looked past her as you undid the string of her hospital gown. You looked up when you slid down her underwear before guiding her towards the tub. Your gentle guiding seemed to spark Natasha into mechanically climbing into it herself the rest of the way.

"Okay, cool. Um," you stuttered. "I'm sure you've been through a lot. Once you're done, we can get you into bed and if you're hungry later, I can make you something."

You were getting used to the lack of answers, but it didn't make your stomach drop any less. "Just let me know if you need anything."

You don't wait for a response this time, leaving without shutting the door fully. Down the hall, you leaned against the wall, swallowing harshly.

It feels like you brought a lifeless shell home. A part of you wonders if Natasha really did return or if this was just some lifeless doll.

You didn't want to think about it anymore, so you pushed yourself off the wall and into a bedroom with a suitcase and unzipped it open to grab some clothes.

When you were heading back, you heard the water still running and frowned.

"Natasha?" You called as you opened the door. The tub was overfilling, and you rushed to turn off the faucet, trying to not slip.

Natasha was sitting how you left her, staring ahead at the running water but not really looking at it.

You sighed, relieved that the bathroom floor was designed with wood and curved so that any water would naturally run towards a drain in the floor.

You go to check the temperature of the water and find that while it was initially fine when you turned it on, Natasha hadn't attempted to adjust it, and the finicky faucet ran nearly scalding water.

"Jesus, Natasha, you're going to hurt yourself," you yelped. You braced through it and stuck your hand in to drain the tub halfway.

You inwardly sighed, knowing you would have to help Natasha through the entire process. You began to refill the tub, monitoring the temperature and shut it off when it was filled adequately.

"I'm going to help wash you if that's okay," you muttered. "Just let me know if you prefer to do it yourself at any point."

You grabbed a nearby stool and sat on it before grabbing the loofa. You began with Natasha's shoulders and arms, trying to wash parts of her that were easy to access.

Natasha tensed as you washed her, so you tried to be more slow and careful.

"It's just me," you said softly, trying to reassure the redhead. "I've always taken care of you."

Natasha said nothing, but her shoulders relaxed slightly as you continued. There wasn't much dirt on her, but the stale air that was surrounding her began to fade away.

Her knees were propped up, folded to her chest, and you washed down her thighs and legs, trying to not think of anything too much as you did it. You tried not to think about the scars on her hands and feet.

Readjusting your stool, you went to sit behind her. You used a cup to wet Natasha's hair, trying to detangle some of it gently first. It was then you discovered a shaven spot in the back of her head, where there was a large scar. You realized that was where Natasha's head hit the ground when she—

You swallowed, trying to suppress the anger that they shaved her head to get a look at something so private.

You squeezed a considerable amount of shampoo in your hands and gently rubbed it into her scalp. Natasha tensed at first before your fingers massaging her scalp made her relax, her body leaning back against the tub and her head into your hands.

It was quiet as you did this. You shampooed her hair twice before slathering it up in conditioner and finally getting out the rest of the knots. You drained the tub, grabbing the shower head to rinse her down once more before you grabbed a towel and helped her out.

You helped put a bathrobe around her to help dry her as you didn't think you had the gall to fully dry every part of her by hand. Grabbing her clothes, you led her to her bedroom, setting her down on the bed.

Natasha sat silently as you towel-dried her hair with gentle hands. Her eyes fell closed as you began to blow dry it. Your soft fingers tousling her hair.

So delicate.

When it was dry, you set the blow dryer aside.

"Hm, your hair is pretty sensitive and might be for the next week. It might be better to braid it so it doesn't tangle and break when you're sleeping," you commented, mostly to yourself.

You took sections of her hair, delicately beginning to put her hair into a french braid.

"You've always had beautiful hair, red or blonde," you complimented Natasha as you finished. You moved to sit in front of her to check if you did okay from the front. There wasn't a response, but Natasha opened her eyes. They focused on you, looking at you as they traced over the features of your face. She was studying you apprehensively.

Natasha lifted a hand, slowly reaching up as her fingers brushed the side of your face. It felt bumpy from the scars, but it made the back of your throat burn.

"Am I really here?" Natasha mumbled as she then traced your cheek before your lips. "Am I really here with you?"

Your eyes were burning now. You couldn't even answer right away because you were afraid your lips would start trembling.

You lifted your hand, hesitating at first, before you held her hand against your face. "Yeah, you're really here."

The edges of Natasha's eyes began to brim with tears.

"When I jumped, I didn't die right away," Natasha whispered. "There was a feeling that something bad was going to happen. It didn't get me yet, but it was going to."

You couldn't help the tears that began to fall over the edge of your eyes when they overfilled.

"Something bad happened to me," Natasha's lip trembled. "It's still happening to me."

You gripped her hand tighter unintentionally, but it was like it grounded Natasha.

"I was scared," Natasha admitted. "I was scared that even if you came to me, it wouldn't go away."

Then, Natasha grabbed your hand and placed it against her cheek. It was still warm from the bath and blow dryer.

"But I can feel your touch," Natasha sighed like it was a relief. "It's gentle and I feel human. I'm scared I'm not really here."

"You are."

Your throat felt clogged with raw emotions, and you didn't know what to do with it. You've only seen Natasha a handful of times, and maybe it's because the more you do, the more emotionally charged you both feel.

"You're really here," you told Natasha, using your thumb to caress her cheek. You didn't know what else to say.

All you can do is offer her shelter under your touch.

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elaemae · 24 days

Text

The premium version of human is here to wreak house, mfs.

[Twst x Obeyme!AFAB!reader]

CHP. 1.1: The start of the Blood Rose Tyrant.

Thank you, my amazing readers, for all the likes, comments, and reblogs🥹 It makes so happy, like– almost nothing can top the joy of seeing y'all liked my work :)

Btw, If you have any questions about my tagging and/or literally anything you wanna ask me bout the fic, just reach out to me and I'll try my best to answer you.😊

CW: Cursing, Idk what else... There's also the pronoun schtick I've been yapping about since pr. 1. (i.e MC will get mistaken for a pretty guy a lot -Mc is AFAB referred to as they/them- because the NRC cast have come to expect only boys to be in the school. Excluding the paintings ofc.)

(My pic)

Fun fact: While all of your ornaments act as containers to very *nom*-able amounts of magic, such a thing can be dangerous as it may give away your location if you need to hide or run away from someone.

Therefore, all of them were cast with a special spell developed by Solomon that makes it so that people can't sense that magic unless they're really close to you physically.

(Not to mention, only exceptional mages can actually have the hope of picking up on that magic as your all jewelry were also cast with a heavy magical concealment blessing from both Micheal and Luke.)

• • •

'What the hell is this?'

You think as you fiddled with the fancy pouch in your hands.

You had opened the gift box to find the pouch containing some basic skincare products and just went; ( •_•)..?

Like– What the hell? Who does that?? Are they saying that you're ugly and needed to start taking care of your face?! Well excuse you, I'll have you know –whomever you are– that this face was approved by Asmodeus himself you rude lil' shi—

*Ehem*

So like any sane person is supposed to do in that situation, you checked if the products were cursed or charmed and then pocketed it to maybe sell it in the future for some cash. (Lovely gift but you were taught never to use/ingest things given to you by strangers.)

Leaving the infirmary, you venture into the botanical garden, hoping you'd find some edible plants that you and Yuu can nibble on until you can procure other food options and some all important moneh. (Ugh, if only that damn crow didn't escape and hide away from you, you would've extorted his cowardly-ass and bought some food instead of needing to resort to this bs.)

'Trying to find a stone in a long abandoned mine is simply a fools errand.'

You thought as you absent-mindedly skipped past a certain tall, dark, and handsome man with horns, unknowing of the look of pure curiosity pointed at your back as you continued your musings.

'But oh well, they wanted to try so they might as well be those fools.'

You're not gonna stop them if they wanna try to fix things even though you've mostly stabilized the situation. (Not that they know.)

Damn, you also need to go to the library later so that you can learn what changes you'd need to do in order to adapt and know the problems you'd likely experience in this world.

Knowing yourself and your history for being a magnet of chaos, It'd probably involve almost dying more times than you have fingers and unearthing some deeply-buried soul-crushing trauma in which the only thing you'll get in return are the friends you've made along the way.

Aside from that though, you'd need to gain yourself a foothold in this society.

Preferably, there would be a lot of rich and influential people in this school to suck up to, but if those aren't enough then maybe you can venture into industries where you can kiss-ass in peace.

As much as you'd love to be optimistic, Crowley is the almost literal embodiment of a dead-beat dad barely pays child-support and your own search for a way home may take years before coming to fruition.

Tsk. You can feel your stress levels transcending the mortal plane of existence again as you can already envision the figurative mountain-range you'd need to climb just to achieve stability in this place.

$°\•m°n.. p/€∆$3.. H€\₱ m£...

Times like these just make you wanna curl up onto the floor in a fetal position and let the earth consume you whole.

Oh! And you also need to obtain a stronger blackmail material against Crowley to make sure he won't try anything remotely against you.

'Hmm... But maybe...'

You think as you took a quick and discreet glance to a security camera that had been "coincidentally" pointed at you.

Well, not really a coincidence.

If the mf behind these creepy-ass cameras —that have been watching you since your arrival here, mind you—, can lend you a hand then that would be the optimal outcome. There are a lot of security cameras after all...

Though there's also a large possibility that the fucker wanted you dead because of either boredom, simple bloodlust, money, vengeance (for some reason), your organs or all of the above.

You sighed as you entered the botanical garden, telling yourself to just worry about that later and focus on finding food.

If you get in trouble for taking plants here, you'll just throw Crowley under the bus. (figuratively and literally if he decides to be a bitch about it.)

• • • •

Yuu, Grim, Ace, and Deuce stumbled out of the mirror, finally away from the creepy forest and back into the college.

They all flinched and turned their heads back when they heard a dramatic 'Tsktsktsk–' from behind them.

"Well well well~ Look who finally decided to show up at–"

*checks imaginary wrist watch*

"46 minutes past midnight.. Huh.. If you all got any curfew for your dorms then you're both toast. Can't believe y'all spent more than five hours looking for a single rock..."

You said, referring to the two first years who flinched under your words and judgemental eyes.

"You all look like shit by the way."

Yuu awkwardly scratched their head.

"Thanks?"

*Sigh...*

"You're welcome, bbg."

"Just hurry up and give that rock to the fuckin crow already so that you all can spare the world from having to witness anymore of your gross, sweaty, homeless-lookin selves."

Deuce shrunk even further behind Yuu. (funny because Yuu was at least half-a-head shorter.)

Ace meanwhile, has too much ego to not say anything back.

"We wouldn't be looking like this if you at least helped!" He snarked.

"Why should I?"

You Dwayne-the-rock-Johnson raised your eyebrow at him.

"I don't owe any of you a smidgen of literally anything so why should I help?"

It wasn't a question, but a statement. Because why should you help? They should be grateful you even talked Crowley out of expelling them immediately. Not that they know but still...

But of course, audacity is gonna audacity. Because, Ace really had the nerve to look offended by your words, as if you weren't saying something as truthful as the sky being blue, the grass being green, and your ass being a literal masterpiece from god.

"Don't even try to pass off the blame, Weasley-wannabe. I know it, you know it, your mom knows it, your dad if you have one, your entire bloodline and your non-existent cow knows it, there's literally no point."

Ace literally almost snarled at you like a damn dog, pft– That's what he gets from pissing you off by existing earlier.

"Oh shut up!"

He then looked like he was about to start a rant of how unfair his life was and how he totally didn't deserve any of this and blahblahblahblahblah–

You swear on Diavolo and Luci's fruity man-boobs, you'll hang this bitch upside down like a bat if you had to hear another complaint about things being unfair for him.

What about you? or Yuu? Isn't life more cruel and unfair to you two? Taking you both away from loved ones and shoving you into a world where you two need to fight for a temporary sanctuary as you both try to go home with no real proof you'll actually be able to make it back?

Isn't life more unfair to you? Right when you almost finally achieved the start of your happy ending.. You were taken away from the people that you fought tooth and nail to be with.. And now, they're all too far away for you to reach... again.

Deuce elbowed Ace, thankfully making the jab to the ribs painful for the annoying ginger.

You dramatically sighed again, turning to Yuu and Deuce.

"Remember kids, don't copy Ace's attitude okay? Lest you want to end up single and with no bitches for the rest of your life."

Ace's right eye twitched erratically, shouting at you to shut up and to stop messing with him.

• • • • •

Talking with the crow is an annoying affair as expected. At least now, Yuu is finally an official learner of the school. Even if they're just half-a-student with the loud talking cat. (That kinda reminds you of Mammon, now that you think of it. Also very funny because the cat's name is grim of all things..)

Oh, and you're a prefect now. You're definitely going to make that everyone's problem. Hehehehehe~

"So the abandoned dorm we were supposed to live in is fixed now? How? Hasn't it only been like– a day?"

You ominously beamed at the question, releasing a sinister little giggle that caused Ace, Deuce, and the now wide-awake Grim to subconsciously shiver while Yuu refrained from asking further questions and just wisely snickered instead.

Unseen by everyone, you sent a quick devious little smile to a wall where a certain electrical device was mounted, biting down a snort when you saw the security camera suddenly snap into another direction, as if it was a person embarrassed that they got caught by someone they were staring at.

You then had to hold back a cackle as you remembered how easily this newly made stalker friend of yours snitched on the headmaster, like– you literally didn't even do anything, the flustered boy just gave you the blackmail material that you needed. Well, maybe you did corner him a little bit by using his own electronics against him but you're pretty sure he enjoyed it for some reason if the way he literally blurted out 'mommy-' at you was anything to go by—

Haha, the benefits of having a hacker as a fren :3

• • • •

Kicking away the two idiots and telling them to go back to their dorms already, you dragged Yuu inside the now newly fixed dorm.

The two of you needed to talk about a few things and arrangements..

• • • •

Quickly opening the door in hopes that the fucker that was banging on it gets mash-dabbed face-first, you saw nothing but disappointment as the bastard — Ace — had actually moved away from the door in an impressive display of intuition and spidey-sense before you had even wretched the door open.

"What the fuck do you want, you ugly punyeta?"

It hasn't even been a few hours since this mf parted ways with you and Yuu, so what could be the problem now?

. .. . . . . ..

"No, you're sleeping on the couch."

"What?! But why?!! There are perfectly good rooms here!"

"All the other rooms besides the one we're using are still unfurnished. The beds in them are yet to be assembled and the floors are dusty because of the quick renovations." Yuu stated, rubbing the bridge of their nose.

"Ughhhhh! Just let me squeeze in, I promise I won't take up too much space!"

"Nice try but no."

"Tch, You're all so stingy and inhospitable.."

"Yuu, Do you hear that?" You said, theatrically cupping your ear with a hand.

"Yes, It seems that a forever virgin is talking." Yuu answered with a smirk.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, you oompa-loompa lookin ass— we unfortunately can't understand the language of people who can't pull."

"You guys are the worst."

"Thanks bbg." you and Yuu paused.

"Pft–"

"Oh dear~ It seems you're starting to take after me."

"Indeed it seems." Yuu replied, even subconsciously copying the fancy accent you used.

"Oh no, you're multiplying. :0"

"Haha, we're still dragging you to apologize to your Housewarden later."

"Aww shucks.."

← Pr.7 | Chapter List | Chp. 1.2 →

Thanks for reading this far, my amazing readers ＼⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠)⁠／

Pls don't forget to reblog and like, it really helps me so much <3

Taglist;

@f0uerleafedcl0ver @a-traveling-void-human @leviathans-tail-scales @nimko @solarixstar @sugarrush-blush @im-in-love-with-fairytales @irisxiel @meigalaxy @nightw-izhu @refridgeratorplus @moonieper @certified-twst-simp @immakittybear @iris-arcadia @caprinaesprout @mc-glare-is-king

Pls if I forgot to tag someone, pls tell me..

Tumblr is fuckin with me again.

Reminder; Just tell me if y'all wanna be added to the permanent taglist.

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skinside · 8 months

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okay so, a lot is being said about all the shitty changes on tumblr lately. i've avoided many of these changes by downgrading to older versions of the tumblr app on android. however, there's one drawback i've faced: if you go back too far, you lose polls, one of the only good new features. so i decided to experiment version-by-version to see when certain desirable or undesirable features were added to the apk. unfortunately there's no version with polls but without tumblr live. i've compiled the detailed results here, in order of most recent version number

NOTE: to get old versions of tumblr, use apkmirror.com, which is a trustworthy, reputable source for .apk files, android's package installers. to downgrade your app you need to uninstall it and install an older apk (not necessary for upgrading to a higher version). a list of available apks for tumblr can be found here

TUMBLR .APK VERSION TESTING RESULTS

29.1.0.109

first version with new media viewer. any version before this should be okay in that department. (thanks @weeeeps for finding this!)

27.8.0.109

first version of tumblr apk with polls

still has old style media viewer

still has prev tags aka ability to navigate up reblog chain

unfortunately has tumblr live

27.4.0.12

first version with tumblr live (yuck), any version on apkmirror before this shouldn't have tumblr live

27.0.0.01

last easily installable version without tumblr live

it has the Halloween skeleton icon though

26.8.0.01

last version without tumblr live with a normal icon

**25.9.0.00** —MY PREFERRED VERSION

no tumblr live, no polls, yes old media viewer

last version of app where the "open tumblr links in app" feature functions properly even if the tracker api2.branch.io is blocked by your content blocker

if you use a version later than this, to successfully open a tumblr link from anywhere else on your phone in the you app, you have to unblock api2.branch.io from the ad/content blocker you use, otherwise opening the link in the app will fail. this took me some trial and error to figure out the issue

note: if you don't have an ad/tracker blocker on your phone, I'd recommend Blokada 5 (not 6)

again, disappointingly there isn't a version with polls but without tumblr live. if you want to see a poll you'll either have to share a post containing a poll to a web browser, or just use 27.8.0.109 (or slightly newer) and deal with snoozing tumblr live and having the live button on the navbar, but at least you get the old media viewer and can go up reblog chains again

sometime after the most recent version i tested, the new media player was also added. if anyone wants to test for the last version with the old media player, i can add that to the list as well added :)

if you want a version of the tumblr app with polls that doesn't have live, someone would probably have to mod the apk. i don't know how to do that, but there's modded versions of many popular apps out there, so maybe someone can try and see if that's possible for tumblr. otherwise just keep complaining about the shittiness and maybe staff will go back on the bad changes, though i wouldn't hold my breath on that

oh and if you're on iOS idk what to tell you, you probably have to jailbreak it to downgrade an app

#tumblr #staff #tumblr live #tumblr app #changes #update #android #tech #downgrade #guide

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dorylinae-supremacy · 2 months

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Thinking about an AU where Techno, Wilbur and Tommy are all the harbingers of the actual entire apocalypse and Phil (just some insane guy) decides that those are in fact his kids and starts gaslighting the absolute shit out of them about it.

Rambles under cut!

I wanna try something where they're just more insidious and passive killers than anything else, theyre mostly just biding their time and watching as wherever they're lingering around gets sicker and just starts withering away.

They're a slow moving threat that just can't be stopped and for some reason (because Kristin thinks its funny) Phil just isnt affected by them.

Phil: Oh Techno's always been like that ever since he was a baby Techno: I have literally never met you a day in my life Tommy: Idk man... you have always been like that Wilbur: Oh my death he's actually getting to us

Its a mix of that combined with that "how did he know I was a gemini" meme

Phil: Wil! I brought you some salmon, I know how much you love it! Wilbur: How the fuck did you know I like salmon Phil: I'm your dad silly, of course I'd know :-)

I just think itd be super fun since Phil in this au is literally just some insane dude. He literally lies about their entire childhood but does it so consistently and so realistically that it throws them off guard.

I also have a few ideas where they start referring to Phil as their dad in the beginning as a sarcastic / mocking thing but accidentally just getting themselves even more adopted as they do it.

Phil: Wilbur put on a coat Wilbur: I don't need one! Techno: Go on, Wil. Listen to dad Wilbur: Ugh fine. Only because dad wants it, though

Stranger: Whos this? Tommy: Oh thats our dad. He kinda just tags along Stranger: Aww thats so sweet! You got his nose and everything Tommy: I- wh- no he's not actually our da- Phil: I know he did! Isn't he the cutest, spitting image isnt he? Tommy: You're not my dad! Stranger: Oh someones embarrassed! Phil: Yeah he's going through a rebellious phase right now

Just a mixture of things like that where it starts as calling him it but then accidentally actually giving him parental authority along with that.

I also wanna explore how Kristin and Phils relationship would be like. Maybe her as death being very bemused by this silly human that just decided she was his wife one day.

She literally visits him in dreams and stuff and he just acts as if they're married and have been for years. He complains about their 'rambunctious kids' and how he has to threaten them with her so that they behave sometimes. She finds it so silly and just cant help but play pretend.

Kristin: Hello, human Phil: My love! Its been so long since I've seen you Kristin: We've never met Phil: Oh don't say that! It hasnt been that long. I've just been far too occupied with our boys to visit too much Kristin: Our boys? I made them Phil: And they came out beautiful! I'm so glad Wil and Tech got your eyes. I was hoping they would.

I think that'd be a core part of this AU as well. Everyone is playing pretend but then it just fuzzies and it all becomes real for them. At first its a joke that Phil is her husband and their father but then they get lost in the fantasy and fun of it all and actually accept him as such.

Phil has no ulterior motives either, he's literally just a strange insane man that heard stories about neotrio and started thinking they were his kids one day. He genuinely believes his delusion and they end up accidentally making it a reality.

He just makes lucky guesses and plausible lies often enough that he's still shiny and new, he's still fun to play with and thats what ends up 'tricking' them all.

#dory writes #harbingers AU #dark sleepy bois inc #dark sbi

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livinginshambles · 8 months

Text

Preview: If I could take it all back | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: James' time to pine over you. After James rejected your feelings, and you promised to get over him during the summer break, he finds himself in the same position of unrequited love and wishes he could take his words back.

Notes: I suppose this could be read as a standalone without the short context of the first part :) No proofreading (yet), enjoy!

Also, am I supposed to tag you guys for previews? Because I'm not doing it, to avoid spamming you guys, but idk what you guys think works best.

__________________________

James plopped down on his bed in exhaustion after their first day back at Hogwarts and his mind wandered off to you.

What would your reaction be if he told you that he may fancy you. You probably wouldn’t take him seriously, he figured. And it’s not as if he actually fancied you, right? His mind was probably just confused because he, for the first time ever, wasn’t so preoccupied with Lily, and could instead acknowledge other girls too.

“Bloody hell, is it me, or was that ceremony more tedious than ever before?” Sirius complained after he too dropped down on his bed across the room.

“Just gets longer each year,” Remus groaned in dismay, stuffing his face in his pillow with a deep sigh.

“And that choir,” Peter chimed in. He didn’t even have to finish his sentence, the rest of the marauders dramatically joining in on complaining.

“And ignoring the toads, there was a bloke who kept making eyes at our Y/N,” Sirius huffed. James’ relaxed posture turned rigid, and he rolled over, so his eyes could snap towards Sirius. “What!? Who?”

“Calm down, Prongs,’ Remus was quick to shush him. “Sirius is exaggerating as usual.” A pillow was thrown his way. “Also, it wasn’t inappropriately making eyes at her or anything. He just smiled at her, that’s all.” Remus ducked the pillow.

“Yeah, and it was completely mutual, so it’s alright,” Peter decided to add his own observation of the incident in attempt to reassure James. His words seemed to have the opposite effect, although James tried to hide the way his heart plummeted. Mutual?

“True, she even blushed a little,” Remus seemed to recall. “You reckon she fancies him?” He wondered out loud and James huffed in annoyance. “That’s ridiculous, Y/N doesn’t fancy him,” he curtly replied. Peter shook his head. “But didn’t she say that she fancied someone last year?”

Remus’ eyes lingered on James, fully aware who she fancied, but opting to not throw that in the conversation.

“Well if she fancied anyone, it wouldn’t be that stupid git,” James stubbornly said. Sirius squinted his eyes at James before a shit eating grin appeared on his face. “Prongs…” he slowly began. “Do you fancy our Y/N?” Remus and Peter’s jaws fell slack, sitting up to stare at James.

James froze and his mouth opened and closed, trying to find the words to deny Sirius’ accusation. “No, I don’t,” he defended himself. “I just know Y/N and I’m telling you, that guy is not her type,” he scoffed.

“Well to be fair, we don’t actually know her type, she hasn’t dated anyone before and refused to tell us about her crush.” Sirius poked. “Well, I do,” James snapped. There was a long awkward silence while the marauders raised their eyebrows at his tone, and then James cleared his throat. “I just mean that I’ve known her longest, so obviously I know her type,” he tried to explain.

“Right.” Sirius slowly drew out. Remus and Peter nodded their heads but not at all looking convinced. James dropped back down on his bed and let his mind wander off to you again. Oh, who was he lying to, of course he fancied you.

“So, lovely Y/N, what’s your type in regard to guys,” Sirius curiously asked you. James shot him an angry look that you couldn’t see as you were huddled against him, your back to his chest so that you two could fit on the armchair together.

“What, like personality or looks?” You tilted your head in question.

“Uh, both?” Sirius asked.

You hummed in thought. “Well, kind of like Prongs, I guess,” you shamelessly admitted, and James almost choked on his own saliva. “Though, look-wise, you’re pretty easy on the eyes too, Pads.” You winked jokingly at Sirius, and he blew you a kiss while laughing out loud before getting back on the matter at hand. “So, James here is your type?” He almost disbelievingly repeated.

You shrugged. “Sure.”

James scanned Sirius’ face and could see the gears turning in his friend’s head. Merlin, he’d have to let Sirius know that he didn’t have to bother playing matchmaker, he’d destroyed any chances of you two ever becoming more by himself, two months ago.

His arms tightened around you unconsciously. It didn’t matter as long as he could keep you close like this. He’d take whatever you’d give him, he decided. He was happy enough with your friendship.

Full fic

#james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter angst #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders fic #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction

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carlandrea · 1 year

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Why Legolas Greenleaf was Chosen for the Fellowship of the Ring

First, Why Not Glorfindel, (with Glorfindel standing in for, in general, any ancient heroes who might be hanging around Rivendell)

This is a stealth mission. The first priority should not be Heroics, which, if anything goes well, should not be necessary. It would have been useful to have Glorfindel when they encountered, for example, the Balrog, but ideally, they would not have encountered a balrog

So then, if you're not expecting to use Heroics, than having someone that much more powerful than the rest of the party is actually a massive liability. If Legolas fell victim to the ring, then Aragorn and Boromir could take him out. If Glorfindel was sent on the mission and tried to take the ring, then everyone else is kind of just fucked. He's Glorfindel. It's the same reason none of the people Frodo offers the ring to takes it. (Gandalf is mildly a complication for this point but like Gandalf just really needs to be here. We need Gandalf.)

Could Gandalf fight Glorfindel? idk. I feel like a redditor just asking the question. it wouldn't be good for anyone if he did, that's for fucking sure

Why Legolas Specifically

He's good at stealth. He's a good scout. He's cheerful and not prone to despair. He's a good fit for this kind of mission

As a Mirkwood elf, he does not have the same vested personal interest in the Three surviving that a Rivendell or Lothlorien elf might have. He is not going on a specific quest to destroy his own home, which would be the kind of thing the Ring would love to latch on to.

Also, as a Silvan elf, his people mildly have a much better track record with the cursed shinies than like. the high elves. the wise. et fucking cetera (I am not open to corrections as to whether Legolas is a silvan elf <3)

But also—specifically—Legolas is someone who is very used to creeping dread and despair, and he's still Like That. He's still Legolas. He's still weird and cheerful and excited about trees. My first point is that he's not prone to despair, and I just want to stress that he has been under this kind of pressure—under the creeping shadow—for his entire life.

he's not tired in the way that so many elves are

Also—

I made another short post about this, and I got this response:

#personally I've always thought it's because #he's actually from one of the places right now #where Men Dwarves and Elves all talk to each other#whereas an elf from Rivendell or Loth Lorien may be very wise and learn'd in what you need to know to be considered learn'd #but have they spoken to someone who isn't of their kin in the last thousand years? #have they experience traveling paths unknown to them and finding their way? #can they hear an insult and try to reach through cultural differences? #would they be able to walk into a texmex restuarant for the first time and go 'oh it's spelled t-a-c-o gotcha CHOMP mmm' #(I suspect not)

(tags by @fairy-anon-godmother)

Which I really agree with!!

In Conclusion:

My boy was perfect for this quest :) He's cheerful, he's young, and he's exactly what the fellowship needs in their elf

#lotr #Legolas #lotr newsletter spoilers

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abigolemess · 9 months

Note

hey i hope you're doing well!! could i req a hobie smut where like. idk. maybe they're fucking and someone walks in on them?

I'm a slut for a quickie in a place your def not supposed to be fucking in :) also, still bad at writing Hobie's speech

Warnings/tags: hobie brown x fem!reader, reader is also a spiderperson, smut, quickie, p in v, cumming inside (no protection, we risky out here), exhibitionism, hobie and reader get caught, fem!reader, let me know if I missed any

Word count: 395 (short n sweet)

"Fuck! Hobie, please," you moaned before Hobie clasps his hand over your mouth. You clenched around him.

"Shit, babe. 'Hafta remember to be quiet. 'Feels good, yeah?"

For some reason, Hobie thought it would be fun to have a quickie in one of the supply closets at Spider Society. You can't blame him though. You were horny and feeling just as spontaneous as he was. Every now and then, you could hear spiderpeople walking past and the thrill of getting caught just fueled the both of you even more.

Hobie held you against the wall, your back facing him. Hobie's other hand reached around to your clit, playing with the sensitive nub. Your muffled moans vibrated against his mouth as he came close to your ear.

"You don't want to be quiet, do ya love? Want everyone to hear how good my cock feels sliding in 'n out of your pussy?" Hobie whispered. Your thighs clenched around his hand.

"Oh, love. Don't go shy on me now. Open those legs up for me pretty girl." You obeyed his command. "Good fucking girl. You-"

"What the fuck?! Hobie, you're disgusting, ugh," you heard Jessica's voice yell. "Get out of here!"

Hobie kept fucking you as he responded. "Nah, mate. I'm kinda busy here." He smirked. Jessica grabbed what she needed and slammed the door. You blushed at the interaction between the two of them.

"You liked that, huh. Getting caught? Your pussy's droolin' all over my cock, babe. You gonna cum?" Your moans of approval were muffled by Hobie's hand still, his other hand working with his cock to push you off the edge. Hobie increased his speed. "Cum on my cock, love." Once again, you obeyed his demand and convulsed around him, causing him to reach his peak as well. His cum coated your walls before he pulled out of you and began to get dressed again.

"C'mon, love. Let's get out of here 'fore Miguel finds us." He placed a kiss on your shoulder and began to help you put your spider suit back on. After you got dressed, Hobie slowly opened the door and checked for anyone walking by. You pushed past him and opened a portal using your watch. "Beat you to my apartment!" You say running into the portal.

"Little cheater, I like it," Hobie said before jumping in after you.

#abigolemess #smut #hobie brown smut #hobie brown #spiderman atsv #spiderverse

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chip-in-a-bag · 28 days

Text

What would have happened of hunith did talk about balinor to merlin growing up?

I don't know if someone has made this a fic, if so please comment or something. It doesn't even have to be merthur.

Would merlin grow to be hateful and want to seek revenge on the pendragons? And how will that go when he finds out he is destined to protect the son of the man who caused his father to leave them? Would it take longer to become friends with arthur? Would he get made Arthur's manservant, and not go?

Arthur is already curious of merlin, the man who sassed him even after he found out who he was, and basically tries to become merlin's friend. Like he doesn't know why he wants to become merlin's friend but he tries everything. Merlin is a stubborn person so he will put a mask of hating arthur but secretly wants to see how far arthur is willing to go to be his friend. All while he is saving Arthur's life... but like on accident. Like he stubbles on the bad guys plans and is like, well I'm already here.

I also would find it funny, even if it was out of character If uther sees his son trying to become merlin's friend and merlin is not having it. He's curious now and watches, "why doesn't gaius' nephew not want my son's friend?" "Gaius is my friend, gaius says his nephew is nice and has already become friends with morgana and her maid. Why not my son? Why does he look at me like that? He kinda looks at me like how morgana looks at me when she's mad at me... they look alike. Did I sleep with gaius' sister? No, I'm 100% sure of it. Why does he look familiar?"

So now uther asked arthur about his mission on becoming merlin's friend, and uses "he is gaius' nephew and his apprentice, he's going to be your physician if something where to happen to giaus. You must be friendly to the person who is handing your health.", as an excuse to know more about merlin.

At somepoint I feel like merlin learns that arthur is not his father and learns to tolerate him. But like if arthur brings up his father in any conversation, he just turns slightly treasonous. And when he has to be in the same room as uther he just ignores him and exclusively speaks to arthur. Uther gets slightly angry at this, and it has landed him a night in the dungeons a couple of times.

(Oh and like lancelot learns why merlin hates uther and also doesn't speak to uther. Idk what broken timeline im thinking of but i love this idea. The most friendly knight hating on one person.)

I don't where else this can go but if someone where to do something with this or something similar that would be cool. Tag me or something my ao3 is in my bio.

#merlin #merthur #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin emrys #merlin x arthur #prince arthur #bbc merthur #uther pendragon #bbc gaius #bbc morgana

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flowersbane · 8 months

Note

a scenario with a baker!reader gifting Joshua a little cake… which he happily eats (it’s carrot cake and he has no clue lol)

Idk but I wanted to share my silly little thought because I enjoyed your writing :’3

pls, this idea is so freaking cute!!! i'm so glad i finally got to write it, thank you so much for your request and patience, i hope you enjoy

(=´∀｀)人(´∀｀=)

The Trojan Cake

Joshua Rosfield x Reader

I might write another, shorter version of this where the reader bakes him a carrot cake without knowing about his carrot aversion, but, idk, let me know if anyone wants to see that. It would have to be a bit further in the future because I have some other things I'm working on that you can learn about here.

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Baker!Reader, Finally Getting Joshua To Eat Some Gosh Darn Vegetables, Fluff, Teasing, Unedited, Lots Of Appearances From Other Characters, Fun, Cutesy, Joshua Is Just A Big Golden Retriever

A new shipment of baking supplies was due to arrive today. You sway on your feet as you wait. Water laps at the wood beneath you, but you pay it no mind. Cursebreakers and laborers work on moving boxes off the ship and onto the Hideaway’s Pier.

“Carrots? Again?” Gav’s voice sounds from nearby. “And what are we supposed to do with all of these? We still haven’t gotten through the last shipment of them. There’s only so much carrot bisque a man can stomach. Soon enough, half the Hideaway’ll have orange hair and orange skin.”

Otto sighs. “Food’s food, Gav. We’ll find some use for them.”

Gav’s disgruntled expression doesn’t fade. “Unbelievable.”

Your attention is caught by someone calling your name. Mid waves you over from the ship’s deck. “You’ve got to come and see this! You’ll be grinning from ear to ear when you see how much stuff they’ve sent for you!”

You’re already grinning from ear to ear by the time you reach her side. Crates of flour, sugar, and yeast are tied down to the deck with sturdy rope. “And this is all for me?” you ask.

“You’re the one best suited for it,” Mid points out. “Now, I don’t mean to rush you but I’m pretty sure everyone at the Hideaway can already smell all the fresh baked sweets!”

“Oh, certainly,” Cole agrees as he and a handful of other Cursebreakers approach. “We’ll get these supplies to the Ale Hall,” he assures you.

“What are you going to make?” asks Mid.

You miss a beat before answering, “it’s a surprise.” In truth, you have no idea. You know the people of the Hideaway would be happy with anything you baked, but you didn’t want to fall into a boring routine. You wanted to try something new, even if you didn’t need to.

Mid only makes an excited sound from behind sealed lips. “The suspense is killing me!”

You laugh, but you know how she feels. The frustration of not knowing what you’ll bake weighs on you as well. “Well, best get to it.”

You descend from the boat and make your way back up to the main floor of the Hideaway. There are plenty of boxes that still need to be moved, so the lift is somewhat crowded. You wait for a path to be cleared before darting out.

“Have you tried chopping them up and hiding them in a stew?” Tarja’s voice catches your ear. She and Jote are crossing the Boarding Deck, clearly on their way to the Infirmary.

“If he sees them, he’ll claim he’s not hungry and refuse to eat,” Jote replies. “Not to mention, I can’t say I feel very comfortable trying to deceive His Grace.”

“They’re just carrots, Jote. I’m sure your decree says nothing against ensuring the Phoenix eats well.”

“If it were up to His Grace, I’m sure there would be.”

You continue your way into the main hall. It’s not uncommon to hear Tarja complaining about Joshua’s bad habits. You suppose this time it’s his aversion to vegetables. Especially carrots. Unfortunate, given that seems to be what the Hideaway has most of these days.

You’re halfway across the Main Deck when someone else calls your name, their voice sounding from your left. Speak of the devil. Joshua approaches with an easy skip to his step. The smile on his face tells you that he’s heard about your new arrival of supplies, but not that of the carrots’ reinforcements. Well, he might’ve and is simply choosing to ignore it. In fact, that is more likely to be the reality of things.

“I heard about the shipment of goods. Will you get to baking soon?”

If he were a dog, his tail would be wagging uncontrollably despite his cool disposition. You nod, your own smile creeping onto your face as an idea begins to form. “And you’ll be the first to get a taste.”

“Really? I will?”

You nod again. He’s always terribly eager to sample your new recipes.

He’ll have no idea. “Ah, my love, you’re brilliant.” He places a hand on either side of your head and plants a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“You should.” You certainly are.

As he disappears on to the Boarding Deck, you dart over to the bar.

“Psst. Cole.” You wave the cursebreaker over.

“What is it?”

“Could you acquire me a crate of those carrots that just arrived? I have plans for them. Oh, but don’t let Joshua know. Keep this between us.”

He gives you a curious look, but does as you ask without question. You ask another of the cursebreakers to keep Joshua distracted for the time being. Your plans would be ruined if he were to walk in midway through.

“What, exactly, are you planning?” someone asks from behind you.

Jill runs her finger over the wooden boxes on the counter. You can’t help the little, proud gleam in your eye. “I’m going to get Joshua to eat carrots and like them,” you declare.

“Oh?”

“A carrot cake! He won’t even know they’re there.”

“I’m not sure if eating carrots in a cake counts as Joshua getting a proper intake of vegetables,” she points out.

You shrug. “Gotta start somewhere.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Lots.”

You, Jill, and a handful of other helpers get to work immediately. With no time to waste, the work is made lighter with more hands to share in its labor. The only thing you can’t speed up is the time of actual baking.

“Do you truly believe this will work?” Jill asks.

“I do. Although, it would be a little funny if he could tell anyway. Like some sort of carrot-sniffing bloodhound. A carrot-hound.”

“Who’s a carrot-hound?” Clive stops at Jill’s side.

“Depending on the results of this experiment, Joshua.”

Clive gives you an almost pained look. “Please do not tell me you’re planning on experimenting on my brother.”

“I promise it won’t become a regular occurrence. Probably. Most likely.”

Clive only sighs and shakes his head.

The cakes finish baking and the air is filled with the scent of freshly baked sweets. You and your assistants–now including Clive–are just finishing spreading the frosting when Joshua arrives, eyes alight with excitement. He says your name with a boyish eagerness that makes your heart squeeze. He truly has no idea. “I hope no one has prevented you from keeping your promise to me.”

You do your best not to roll your eyes. He can still be so childish at times, despite himself. “No, of course not. In fact, you’re just on time. I was about to cut the first slice.”

He smiles. “Excellent.”

He doesn’t even seem to notice how everyone pauses to watch as he takes the first bite. He closes his eyes to savor it. You press your lips together to keep your mischief from showing. “This is delicious, my love, as always.” Your heart soars. You’ve done it. And he’s none the wiser.

You exchange a knowing glance with Jill and Clive. Jill looks mildly impressed while Clive simply seems to be marveling at his brother’s obliviousness. “Alright, everyone,” you announce, “you’re all free to dig in!”

Gav arrives about a half an hour after everyone has already begun eating. He and Otto approach, standing on the other side of Clive, who has taken a seat at the bar beside Joshua.

Gav takes note of the remaining cakes. “Ooo, carrot cake, one of Otto’s favorites.”

You, Clive, and Jill freeze, eyes darting to Joshua. You practically see the life drain from his face. He turns a betrayed expression on you, like a pup who’s found his medicine at the center of his treat. By now, he’s already finished two large slices and is halfway through his third. You can’t help, you begin your apologies but the laughter in your voice steals any sincerity from them.

He practically whines your name, saying, “how could you?”

“But you liked it, didn’t you? Before you knew what it was?”

You can practically see his invisible tail and ears drooping. You’ve never seen him look so unlike the Phoenix before. It only makes you giggle more.

“I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know how I’ll recover from this.”

“Alright, my love, no need to be so overdramatic.”

He pouts. He actually pouts. “You’ll have to find a way to make this up to me.”

“Up to you? I did all of this for you.”

“You did all of this for yourself. I hope you’ve had your fun.”

You lean over the counter, smug as one could be. “Oh, I have.”

“Mhm.” He leans forward and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can still taste the frosting. “You better have. Otherwise, I will have eaten this for nothing.”

“You would have, at the very least, learned that you can stomach carrots. Isn’t that something?”

He laughs. “No, absolutely not. Just promise you won’t do something like this again.”

“I promise,” you draw out the word, “that it won’t become a regular occurrence.”

He rolls his eyes, but a smile toys at the corners of his mouth. “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“Something really good, I imagine.”

His smile grows. “Must have been.”

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