#only if for a night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arcielee · 9 months

Text

Only if for a night.

Summary: You find comfort in your husband's brother. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 3750 Warnings: Just some smut. Smidgen of Targcest in the beginning, voyeurism, marital cheating, oral (f receiving, m implied), fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint. Author's Note: This was a request from my darling anon! This idea literally had me obsessed until I completed it, so please don't think this is the bar for my response time. 😂 Also, a big thank you to my kindred spirits who answered my v. important questions about Aegon's booty! (You know who you are and Ily 💜) Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune Update: This story has a pick your own ending. And you told me I should concentrate. [Aegon x you] But you came over me like some holy rite. [Aemond x you] Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9

You felt numb from the sight: seeing your husband on his knees and feasting between the plush thighs of the queen.

It formed a knot that choked you, but it did not stem from a lover’s jealousy–as you knew that you did not love Aemond and he, certainly, did not love you. You always knew your marriage was one of honor and duty, to solidify victory, a peace offering postwar.

You came from a house that was reputable and wealthy, bringing a sizable force to ensure that King Aegon II would remain on the Iron Throne. Your father boasted of marrying his only daughter into the Targaryen dynasty and you felt fortunate to be given a handsome husband, despite his scarred socket.

Prince Aemond already had a fierce reputation that preceded before you met; your ladies-in-waiting tittered over his disfigurement, his sense of bloodlust, and their hushed whispers of kinslayer that haunted him still despite that the kingly decree his actions were that of a true dragon. He was a renowned veteran of the war that was won, that instilled his brother as king without question, and in return he remained prominent on the council, serving still as the Protector of the Realm.

You were shy, intimidated even, when you first saw the severity that lined his features, the unabashed gaze with his sapphire stone that replaced the eye lost, but you decided he was handsome in a way that was uniquely his own. You also found Aemond was respectful and kind, that he was intelligent, he was considerate, and you sighed your relief, knowing all too often how ladies would be knitted to cruel lords.

For your bedding ceremony, the only glimpse of the dragon that thrummed beneath was how Aemond barked to dismiss the maesters, the Lord Hand, allowing you both privacy to complete the act. He seemed well aware of the discomfort a maiden could feel and treated you with the utmost courtesy, mindful of your sighs, your soft sounds to completion.

He was dutiful and he was diligent. It was not love at first sight, not like the stories told; there was no fluttering of butterfly wings throughout nor did your heart skip a beat at the sight of him, but you enjoyed his company, his consistency, and his consideration.

In all, it was a formidable match and you were certain the marriage would be a success.

Especially once you produced a silver haired royal babe.

Which is why you were freshly bathed and dressed in silk, just the quiet echoes of your slippered footfalls against the cobblestone that led towards your lord husband’s quarters. You thought yourself fortunate no white cloak was perched outside his door, and you pressed close to listen before you carefully turned the gilded handle of the door.

The room was cast in the amber glow from the hearth and tapers lit, and it was the lewd sounds that first caught your attention. You were rooted in the doorcase, your eyelashes fluttered at the view in front of you.

Aemond was bare from the waist up, the peaks of the silver scars peering through his silver hair, and he was kneeled before the velvet settee at the end of his bed. You watched the muscled definition of his backside, the golden glow of the fireplace highlighting his bareness, as well as the elegant arc of a calf that was draped casually over his shoulder.

Your eyes followed the milky curve of this limb to look over his shoulder and see the flushed features of Helaena. She was seated on the settee, her laces loosened which allowed the natural spill of her chest, with the peak of her areolas and the rose hues that stained the skin showing. Her skirts were rutted around her hips, the fabric spilling around, and her eyelashes fluttered with a silver glimmer, her head rolling back with a wave of her silver tresses. A smile curled on her kiss-swollen lips and there was a shudder of her pleasure that rippled viscerally over, her fingers curling against his scalp with the breathless whisper.

“Aemond.”

The humiliation was hot in your veins and burned your cheeks; you willed yourself to move, but your eyes were rapt to attention, watching the frantic rise and fall of Helaena’s chest, her nipples pebbled, and the spilled moans from her mouth.

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

You left as quietly as you entered; your steps were soft, quick to take you back, with one hand lifting the silk of your chemise and the other wiping the tears that began to spill.

We were not in love, you remind yourself, but it still pinched a nerve within your chest. He was still your husband and you were duty bound to bore him a child, a son if the Lord Hand could choose. The act itself was not unpleasant, but Aemond had never…

Your thoughts were interrupted with a singsong call of your name; you were quick to wipe your face before turning to see the king.

“Your grace,” you offered him a feeble curtsy and even weaker smile.

Aegon moved with a grace, a sway to his steps; his brow furrowed above his wide, lilac eyes, and there was a genuineness to his question. “Sweet sister, it is late, what has you out of bed?”

Before you had been sent to King’s Landing, your mother warned you of his behaviors; you were also told the tale of how the newly anointed Lord Commander and your lord husband had to drag Aegon from the streets of Flea Bottom and place him on the Iron Throne.

But this notoriety of his youth seemed to dissipate with the placement of the Conqueror’s crown he now wore proudly on his silver waves. It seemed to kindle the royal ichor in his veins, and he moved with an elegance as he pressed closer, peering at you with his continued concern.

“I… I was feeling unwell and thought that I would go for a walk,” you chose your words carefully, trying to mask the threat of emotion that brimmed beneath.

His brow quirked. “Alone?”

You swallowed. In this moment, you wished to slip away, to return to your rooms and drown in your sorrow, your failures as a wife in light of learning your new husband’s infidelities, your self-loathing for craving the passion Aemond displayed, wishing it to be shown towards you instead…

The silence hung thick, too long for his liking, and Aegon reached to take your hand, placing it into the crook of his arm. “It is late,” he repeated. “If you are unwell, allow me to escort you back to your quarters.”

You fell in step, peering at him. Aegon was handsome, as your supposed all Targaryen men seemed to be; your eyes admired his silver tresses that curled at his shoulders, that showed golden with the lights that lined the corridor, casting a gold ring that reflected in the lilac of his eyes that flitted over you; his lips were rosy, an upwards curl when he noticed your stare. “You seem so solemn tonight,” he tried again.

The proximity allowed you to smell the long day on him, mixing with the scents of lavender and tea tree oils, a regal musk that called to you to nestle your head against his chest and cry. “It is only that I am feeling unwell,” is what you said instead.

His eyes were wide and watchful, but he did not argue and instead allowed the silence to envelope as he walked with you. Before you could wish him goodnight, he pushed into your room, ordering your handmaidens to fetch something to eat, as well as red wine to help settle your stomach.

They jumped with his command, quick to listen, and soon enough you were sitting on the terrace that overlooked the coast of Blackwater Bay, holding a goblet that brimmed with a Dornish wine that stained your lips with each polite sip. Aegon sat across from you, a boyish grin as he dismissed your handmaidens for the night, before reaching to break the bread for you both.

The silence followed from the corridor, settling over in a way that was not at all uncomfortable; you peered again at Aegon, a choked cry in your throat as you watched him take care to slice the cheeses and the olives for the bread, before offering it to you.

It was a simple, sweet gesture and you chewed, forcing down the bite with the wine. Whereas conversation had to be dragged from your husband, you found his brother’s tongue would not idle; perhaps it loosened from the wine, but it was not a mindless filler in a way that words are used as though silence were a threat, but you found Aegon to be cheerful, witty, as he shared stories from his youth.

Aegon glowned from his narration, from the silver light that poured over; the night sky was empty with the clouds rolling over the black water, the air cool and salty. Your cheeks were rosy from your drink and your laughter, and when your cup emptied, he was quick to refill it.

He pressed for your turn and you shared about your life before coming to King’s Landing. Aegon was an attentive listener, with sighs punctuating; you looked to see that his cheeks were pink from the wine and the wind, a curl returning to his lips. “My brother is fortunate to have such a pretty and witty wife.”

Those words were the unknown catalyst broken; you did not sob your sorrow but instead there were large tears that rolled down your cheeks. You did not realize you were shaking until you felt his fingers, his touch warm, soft, wrapping gently around your wrist. You allowed him to pull you from your seat, towards him–now standing–and enveloping you into his arms for a moment before he sat back down, pulling you onto his lap.

Your mannerly upbringing roared in your ears, this was wrong, this was improper, to be pulled into an unchaperoned embrace of your husband’s brother–the fucking king of the Seven Realms. But instead you curled against his chest, that regal musk soothing, his warmth pleasant against the nip of the air. You indulged in his comfort–his palm rubbing slow circles along your spine, his other arm across your lap, his hand gripping into your thigh.

His touch grounded you, allowing you to compose yourself and share with him what you had found in Aemond’s quarters, making sure to elicit a detail that Aegon freely supplied.

“He was with Helaena, right?”

You looked at him. “You knew?” Your voice cracked, incredulous.

Aegon only hummed, continuing his soothing ministrations, his hand rubbing your backside. “I thought you did as well,” he admitted. “Our status within the Seven Realms… requires certain duties to be fulfilled. We are honorbound to these obligations, to ensure peace amongst the kingdoms. But it is just a role to be played for the public.”

You knew this in part already; you were always aware of the duty of your marriage, the child that you were expected to bring into the world. But still, the truth spoken brought a new wave of tears that he consoled. Your body burned with his touch, his finger curling and his thumb pressing into your chin to bring your watery eyes to his own. “Is it that you love him?” He asked with a curiosity that could not be helped, in light of your reaction.

You did not, and would never, certainly not after this night. The tears that spilled came from something deeper, something that licked your belly when your eyes lingered in Aemond’s room, and your voice quavered, hiccupping to explain this.

Aegon had an almost kingly glow in the moonlight, with its silver light reflecting in the stubble that spread across his square jaw, framing the mischievous grin that curled on his wine stained lips. “Is your husband,” he speaks of him like he is apart from Aemond, not knitted within the same womb, with the same dragon’s blood thrumming in his veins, “not fulfilling his marital duties?”

You stammered with your response. This was not what you meant, as Aemond was courteous to his completion, but it was never like what you spied tonight. You flushed remembering the shades of pink that plumed against Helaena’s porcelain skin, how her back arched with her cries, his name a fervent prayer spilling from kiss-swollen lips…

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

Aegon’s timbre brings you back out to the terrace, with his continued soft circles on the outside of your thigh. “You would know if he had,” he spoke so casually, almost flippant with the subject.

How would you know? And you regret your question, your naivety apparent with your words.

The same mischievous smirk returned to his lips, and as the moonglow spilled over him something glimmered, something knowing from how his brow quirked with your question. Aegon tilted his head up slightly, his lips now close to the soft divot beneath your ear, grazing your skin with his whisper, “I could show you.”

Your lips part in shock, your eyes wide to look him over and see the flush of color that stained his cheeks, the wine that stained his lips.

And you dared to kiss him.

Your lips are shy to touch, almost chaste with your action, but Aegon responds, quick, his fingers curling at the base of your neck and his other coming around your waist. His lips are full, soft, warm with the hint of the sweet wine to taste when his tongue runs your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue clever, careful, as he drew the very breath from your lungs.

The spill of silk showed your shoulder and you gasped softly when he broke away, his mouth ravenous to capture the skin now exposed, with a wake of love bites from his open mouth kisses, and a warmth began to bloom within you. You touched his chest with a gentle push to stand and he lets go, his lilac eyes wide and wanting; your hands trembled slightly as you reached to pull him to stand, boldly leading him within your chambers.

Aegon stopped you in the archway, and you turned to see the smile on his lips as he pressed against you, his thigh spreading your legs and his hands trailing your curves, settling and gripping onto your hip bones. His mouth captured yours once again, and your arms wrapped around his neck to bring him closer.

You almost whined when he stopped the kiss, his eyes glassy and their color swallowed by pools of black. “My brother is an idiot,” is all he said.

Before you could breathe a response, he pulled you into the room and back against his mouth, moving with the flutter of kisses along your jawline, nipping into the curve of your neck. His palms are still on the small of your waist, with guiding steps back towards the bed.

Clothes are removed with a passion, leaving a trail behind. “Lay back,” he coaxed, his hands warm against your bareness, careful to press until you laid against the mattress. Aegon followed after, climbing on top of you to meet with another kiss, with his sweet murmur, “Let me show you.”

It is a tickling sensation, the mixture of his stubble with the softness of his lips against the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest. Gooseflesh rippled over, your nipples peaking from the warmth of his touch; his palm cups one breast while his hot mouth latches to the other, teeth and tongue teasing.

You squirmed beneath him; his chuckle was low and warm against the valley between your breasts, from shifting his focus from one to the other. “So impatient,” and his hot kiss sends shivers down your spine, with an intensity that you know will mark you.

You shivered again with that thought.

This reaction encouraged a tensity shown to your nipples, his tongue swirled and another crest of pleasure rippled over, your hand moving to cover your mouth to muffle. Again, his fingers curled around your wrist, pulling your arm down to your side and pushing up to find your lips. “None of the that,” and his lips curled into an almost wicked smile, “your king wishes to hear you.”

Satisfied with the crimson that flooded your cheeks, Aegon moved towards your core with sporadic kisses trailing, a warm tickle of his exhale as he nestled between your thighs.

Your heart fluttered with the intimate kiss he placed, something that sparked a warmth that began to spread out towards the apex of your thighs and beyond. Your hips buck slightly from the sensation and you can feel him grin against your cunt.

“So eager,” he breathed, a warm thrill against your slick slit, his tongue flitting with a precision that had you panting. “Yes, just like that,” he praised, his fingers now pressing within your velvet walls and stretching as one curled within, then another.

His mouth, his touch was practiced, pulling something to blossom within the pit of your stomach, a fluttering sensation that built with the tandem of his fingers and his tongue.

You gasped, peering to see the top of his head, the spill of his silver waves as he moved, ravenous, determined. You writhed, a pitiful mewling sound, and his one hand moved to curl underneath your thigh, holding you in place with his continued sinful motion, your arousal spilling onto the bedsheets.

It was too much, and you whimpered, “A-Aegon,” as your hands balled to grip the linen.

“Just like that,” he purred against, his rhythm building still, a pressure threatening to burst within you. “Come for me, sweet girl.”

It engulfs you as though you had been dropped into Blackwater Bay, a rush that spilled with the come hither curl of his fingers, pressing his lips against the sensitive bundle of nerves above. You see the stars when your eyes flutter closed, the spill of tears that pearled in the corners of your eyes, your chest heaving to catch your breath and your thighs trembling.

His praise was low, husky. “You are so beautiful like this.”

You slowly propped yourself onto your elbows, flushed, and reached towards him, but he stopped your hand. “Next time,” Aegon promised with a cheeky grin.

You are flushed from his actions, from his words, your heart rate picking up again as Aegon climbed on top of you, nestling into the cradle of your hips. His expression was smug, his lips and chin slick, and you kissed him, hungry for him, curious of your own taste; you enjoyed the salty sweetness from the Dornish wine that mixed. His hand dipped between, lining himself with your entrance, and you sighed into his mouth.

Aegon has girth, a thickness to him that stretches your walls. You gasp, then another whine that spilled as he pushed to sheath fully within you; Aegon swallowed your cries with his kisses, his hips still to allow you to adjust to his size, checking before he began his slow rut against your hips.

You pant against his chest, your fingers digging into the twin divots on his lower back as he filled you with each thrust, a bruising pace that began to spark in front of your eyes. You cling to him with a desperation, still sensitive from your first release and flustered from the touch of his bare skin against your own.

There is the sudden emptiness when he pulled away, positioning himself on his knees, his palms wrapping around your ankles and pulling to place your feet against his chest; your hips cant up, allowing him to be swallowed by your warmth again, a guttural groan that reverberates through when you clenched.

This new angle sparked another cry, lights dancing across your eyes with his pace; he was grinning down at you, pausing to turn his head with a quick kiss to the arc of your foot, and you giggled.

His large hands moved to press onto the mattress, caging you, and he rolled his hips against your own; the wet squelch with your soft cry as he bruised within. You mewled his name when his pace quickened, pistoning his hips against.

There was the returned flutter of pleasure and Aegon lifted one hand. “Open,” and you obey, your tongue touching the pad of his thumb, swirling to coat it with your saliva. When he pulled back, a bit of spittle broke off onto your chin, and his hand dipped to press against the bloom above, his touch soft, searching.

Yours cries are unbridled at the touch of your pearl, and his satisfaction was apparent on his flushed features, his hips finding a new pace with his new ministrations. Your muscles tightened in response, your back arching against, and it comes, a tidal wave, an intensity that shudders throughout, rattling your bones beneath.

Aegon continued through your peak, his thrusts growing sloppy to chase after his own release before melting against you, with a low groan into the junction of your neck that rumbled pleasantly through you.

You both lay there in an intimate tangle of bare limbs until your breathing evened. Aegon rolled onto his side and reached to touch your hip, his lilac eyes roaming over you, admiring you. “Beautiful,” he declared, then leaned closer for a gentle kiss.

You giggled again, pulling away to clean up. Aegon allowed it, but was adamant that you remained bare, pulling you back to bed after and curling up against, his face nuzzling into your neck; your skin rose in response.

“For duty, for honor,” he murmured, moving to pull you until your head rested on his chest; his soothing scent and musk of sex now clung to the linen. “A silver haired child all the same,” and he kissed your hairline with his confession. “The twins, Maegor, I am not even certain they are mine or not, but I love them nonetheless.”

“The blood of the dragon,” you whispered, tilting your head back and allowing him to kiss you once again.

You felt a new satisfaction, a new understanding of your role within the Targaryen dynasty. The thought warmed you, I love them nonetheless, as you nestled against his chest, allowing the rise and fall to lull you to sleep.

arcie's masterlist

#hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon x you #aegon x reader #this was also inspired by the tag #aemond aemond aemond #only if for a night #update 9/27

911 notes · View notes

ourstaturestouchtheskies · 5 months

Text

florence + the machine lyrics x colors x textiles in art — yellow/gold

Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up) – Lungs // Portrait of Princess Maria Clementina Sobieska – William Mosman 👑 Only If For a Night – Ceremonials // Isabelle de Bourbon, Infanta of Parma – Jean-Marc Nattier 👑 Over the Love – Over the Love // Portrait of Archduchess Maria Maddalena of Austria – Frans Pourbus the Younger 👑 Over the Love – Over the Love // Portrait of Isabella Charlotte of Nassau-Dietz as Flora – Lancelot Volders 👑 King – Dance Fever // Portrait of Konstancja Krystyna Wielopolska – Pierre Mignard I 👑 Girls Against God – Dance Fever // Portrait of Barbara of Portugal, Queen of Spain – Jean Ranc 👑 Heaven Is Here – Dance Fever // Princess Louisa Maria Teresa Stuart – Alexis Simon Belle

239 notes · View notes

the-blind-assassin-12 · 8 months

Text

As Clear As Day

1200 words for 1200 followers #11

A/N: Hi friends! Welcome to the 12-A-Palooza! This event is my way of saying thank you for sticking with me. Your support and kindness toward me and my writing is out of this world and I’m grateful for every last one of you! This was actually the very first request that I got, and I have been sitting on it trying not to let it get too angsty... I might have dropped the ball on that one. Please don't hate me. The song chosen for this request is about a dream the singer had about her grandmother after her death, so I took that as inspiration for this piece. This is not connected to anything else I've written for Frankie and Reader and is meant to be read as stand alone.

Warnings: descriptions of a funeral, mention of death of a grandparent, fear, angst, language, nightmares

Requested by: Anonymous Song: Only If For A Night Character Choice: Frankie Morales - anon, I hope you can forgive me for this... but the song demanded it. Thank you for sending this in. <3

Summary: A terrible dream wakes you in the middle of the night and you're left to wonder if it was just that... or something darker.

Your dress is scratchy. It didn’t feel that way when you grabbed it off the rack at the store or when you tried it on in the fitting room. It’s been years since you bought it, though, and nearly as long since the last time you wore it, so maybe you’re misremembering. Maybe it’s always felt this way. Stiff. Like a canvas sack with a zipper along your spine.

Stepping up to the food table, you stare down at the array of casseroles and salads in mismatched dishes. You recognize Lori Miller’s yellow pyrex, and you’re pretty sure that’s Mariella Garcia’s blue one next to it. Some are still wrapped with foil or covered with lids. There’s too much to be eaten all at once so they’ll go into the freezer for the coming weeks. You’re not hungry and you can’t imagine many others are, either.

And that’s when it hits you - you’re not sure who this funeral is for. You haven’t even seen anyone yet. A pit opens in your stomach as your eyes fly around the room, searching for a face you know, heart pounding as you hope to find the one you love. But you don’t see Frankie anywhere.

In your peripheral you spot Benny. He’s talking to Pope, both of their expressions bleak, their eyes on the brink of vacancy before Santi notices you and starts to head in your direction. Faceless strangers populate the rest of the room - apart from Will, who you can see stepping out the back door with a beer in his hand.

Your heart slams against your ribs and your palms sweat and your goddamn dress is like sandpaper on your skin. And you still can’t find Frankie.

The walls start to spin as a wicked thought weasels its way into your brain. Maybe there’s a reason why you can’t find him. Maybe he’s -

“Hey. C’mere.”

Santiago reaches out and wraps you in a hug, his large hands pressing against the abrasive fabric covering your back. You hold onto him, unsure of yourself if you were to let go.

“Santi, where’s-”

The question never makes it past your lips. It’s replaced with a gasp as you bolt upright in the dark.

“Frankie!”

Chest heaving and cheeks wet, you reach for the lamp on your bedside. The walls of your bedroom come into view - deep forest green. Splotches of the paint still stain the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing in lieu of the black dress. It’s one of his and even though he’s been gone for a week, it smells like him. You clutch at it with shaking fingers, balling the worn material in your hands and letting it ground you.

It was a dream. Not real.

But that icy feeling doesn’t go away, even as your eyes land on the framed photo next to the lamp - the two of you at Murphy’s, Frankie’s arm around you. You had just stolen the hat right off his head to stick it on your own, leaving his curls in disarray and a laugh frozen on both of your faces. That was the first night Francisco Morales had told you that he loved you. It was the happiest you’d ever been.

Looking at it now, in the immediate aftermath of the dream, it does little to put you at ease. You’ve had a similar dream once before, long ago.

You were nine and had never been to a funeral before, but that hadn’t stopped your brain from conjuring up details like the color and texture of the stone marking your grandmother’s grave or the way the bright green grass in the cemetery looked against the brand new fabric of your dress. You’d had that dream three days before she died and had been too afraid to tell your parents. The night she passed away she’d come to you in another dream, her voice soft and warm, not weak or brittle anymore. “Everything will be alright, sweetpea,” she’d said. “Everything will be as it should be.”

You never had another dream like it. Until now. And you’d never told anyone about that dream. Except for Frankie.

You take a breath and sit back against the headboard. Bringing your hands up, you run them over your hair and grab the base of your neck, trying to steady yourself. You go over the details again.

Benny, Pope and Will were there. Tom and Frankie weren’t. You weren’t familiar enough with Tom’s ex-wife to know her casserole dishes but you noticed dishes belonging to Pope’s sister and Benny and Will’s mother. None of your own, though. And no one would expect a widow to bring food.

A sob bubbles up at that thought and you stare down at the diamond Frankie put on your finger before leaving for Columbia. Is widow the right term if you’re not even married yet?

You don’t fall back to sleep that night. The next two are just as restless. In the middle of the third night, your phone rings. A quick glimpse at the screen shows the call is coming from a restricted number. But it’s the time that gives you pause - the numbers read the same as they did when the nightmare had woken you up.

“H-hello?”

Your brain goes numb when you hear your name. In Pope’s voice.

“Santi?” Your breath comes in gasps. “Why… why are you calling me?”

He sighs heavily, swearing under his breath. “Fish is okay. Fuck, I’m sorry I probably scared the shit outta you.” His words are an instant balm and they let you take another breath. “Took one to the shoulder, he’s gettin’ it looked at right now. Asked me to call you, let you know he’s…”

He’s alive. He’s okay. He’s coming home to me.

“W- what about… everyone else?”

There’s a pause and when Pope speaks again his voice is strangled. “Tom.” He swallows and you feel a weight drop into your gut. “Tom didn’t make it.” He clears his throat. “Listen, I should go. Home soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You whisper the word and the call ends.

Another three days pass before Frankie is at your front door. There’s a shallow cut across the crest of his cheek, two steri-strips holding it shut, and his right arm is in a sling. His eyes are wide and you know he’s only seconds away from losing it as they lock with yours. You’re already there, tears flowing like rivers from your lashes to your lips.

He steps inside and you wind your arm around his middle. For a long time it’s silent, the two of you holding one another, your hair growing damp where he rests his face against it. When he finally speaks, his words shock you.

“I had a dream, the night I got shot.” He sighs shakily. “You came to me. Told me to come home.” His one good arm tightens around you. “Told me to fight to get back to you and-”

That’s when he breaks and you both sink to the floor. You stroke his curls, pressing your lips wherever they land. “Shh, it’s okay, Frankie.” There’s too much to talk about but only one thing that matters. “You’re home.”

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list, please feel free to let me know. You can also fill out the form on my Masterlist! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor @paracosmenthusiast@cannedsoupsucks @dihra-vesa @disgruntledspacedad @littlemisspascalwrites @alraedesigns @mishasminion360 @stevie75 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @amb11@harriedandharassed @woodlandmouth @thescarletfang @trickstersp8 @princessxkenobi @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @competentpotato @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharine @anoverwhelmingdin @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @spishsstuff @noisynightmarepoetry

#12 a palooza #1200 followers 1200 words #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier fic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x female reader #frankie morales x reader #santiago pope garcia #pedrostories #pedro pascal character #tw: funeral #tw: family death #frankie morales one shot #as clear as day #only if for a night

58 notes · View notes

sepherinaspoppies · 15 days

Text

Only If For A Night Part 3 Sneak Peek

"...another thing. If we are going to do this, there's something else I want." She informs the one eyed prince from across the dinner table.

Aemond arched a brow at his one and only, "So we are negotiating," he states in a matter of factly.

She ignores his comment, keeping her head up to not break eye contact with him. "I want an end to what is happening inside those tents. It's cruel. Savagery and inhumane. Just because this is a backwards time doesn't mean that this is okay."

Hot fire radiated through her and Aemond wasn't going to lie, he found it endearing and very enticing. She was the very image of him, a dragon. Even if she wasn't.

"Those women are traitors to the crown. I gave each of them a chance to bend the knee to the rightful heir, the King; but they refused just like their husbands, brothers, fathers, and uncles–"

"–So rape solves everything?!? Don't you realize how much of a brainless idiot you sound?" She argued back, incredulous of the ways of thinking Aemond resolved to. Thank the Gods he didn't rule for long.

Aemond was left flabbergasted. No one alive dared to speak to him in such bold way. Yet she did. "Hold on–"

"Queria ser tu madre para darte un golpazon en la cabeza por pendejo" She spat, wishing she had una chancla to hit Aemond 'El Pendejo' Targaryen with.

translation: I wish I was your mother so I could hit you on the head for being an idiot.

a shoe (but a slipper) basically.

Aemond 'the idiot' Targaryen

#sepherina’s writing updates #aemond targaryen #only if for a night

17 notes · View notes

ennislamore · 1 month

Text

Florence + The Machine - Only If For A Night x Hozier - First Light

#hozier #florence welch #florence and the machine #fatm #florence + the machine #first light #unreal unearth #only if for a night #ceremonials #lyrics

16 notes · View notes

thecabinsixwitch · 2 years

Text

florence + the machine album aesthetics: 2/?

CEREMONIALS (2011)

And the grass was so green against my new clothes / And I did cartwheels in your honour / Dancing on tiptoes / My own secret ceremonials / Before the service began / In the graveyard doing handstands

- “Only If For A Night”

251 notes · View notes

seraphinesaintclair · 25 days

Text

#only if for a night #florence + the machine #music #seraphine’s playlist #Spotify

13 notes · View notes

bigbluebeautifulthings · 1 year

Photo

Florence + the Machine - Ceremonials

lungs / ceremonials / how big, how blue, how beautiful / high as hope / dance fever

all artists

62 notes · View notes

feelthe-feel · 1 year

Text

Today I feel you missing from me.

I have this extremely deep void that I don't know how I'll ever fill.

I wish I could talk to you,

I have always, but today it has become unbearably heavier and light at the same time.

I wish we could greet eachother just like we always did.

I don't want anything new, I just wish for the old things and the silly talks

I still have so much to tell you. I want to tell you so many things, but the thing is you wouldn't listen. Only if you would, I would probably go on forever.

The truth? I miss you. Yes, I do.

Even if you somehow blame it all on me, I really will take it all. I don't mind how you've changed, people change for good, but I'm just extremely hurt that I am nowhere in your "change". Not even my shadow.

"People change and forget to tell each other."

I will still wish.

#life #truth #friends #real life #only if for a night #onlyifIcouldtellyou #i miss you #wanna talk?#we weren't ment to be this way #we were friends forever #IwishIcouldgobackintimenottochangeanythingjusttofeelthingstwice

5 notes · View notes

arcielee · 1 month

Text

Only If For A Night masterlist

Author's Note: Just organizing this accidental series. It mostly began as PWP, so please be mindful of the warnings. I may or may not continue this, but the idea is that you can choose who your Reader ends up with. Enjoy!

Only if for a night. You find comfort in your husband's brother.

-> Aegon Targaryen

And you told me I should concentrate.

-> Aemond Targaryen

But you came over me like some holy rite.

arcie's navigation

#only if for a night #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #aegon x reader #aegon x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #female!reader #arcie does some spring cleaning

89 notes · View notes

ourstaturestouchtheskies · 5 months

Text

florence + the machine lyrics x colors x textiles in art — green

Only If For a Night – Ceremonials // Portrait of Princess Zinaida Volkonskaya – Orest Kiprensky 🌿Over the Love – Over the Love // The Magdalene Reading – Rogier van der Weyden 🌿 Over the Love – Over the Love // The King’s Daughter – Eduard Veith 🌿 South London Forever – High as Hope // Portrait of a Young Woman – unknown artist 🌿 Mermaids – Dance Fever // Woman in an Iridescent Green Dress – Ferdinand Georg Waldmüller

#florence + the machine lyrics x colors x textiles in art #green #only if for a night #over the love #south london forever #mermaids #ceremonials #high as hope #mermaids florence #mermaids florence + the machine #florence + the machine #florence and the machine #fatm #art #art history #lyrics #lyric art

147 notes · View notes

legends-of-apex · 2 years

Text

‘Only If For A Night’ Ch.2 | Tangerine x Reader

{Click here for series masterlist}

rating: M for canon-typical violence, threat, injury detail and profanity

word count: 2,800

chapter summary: After you agree to go with them to their employer, Tangerine and Lemon bring you to your safe house to pick up your things before going on the road. Of course, things are never that easy in their line of work. The reader isn't referred to as being any specific gender. Enjoy <3

'Can I grab my things before we go?' You asked, catching Tangerine's eye in the rearview mirror. His gaze felt like it stung you with how bright it was, how blue.

Tangerine took a long inhale. His ringed fingers tapped the driver's wheel with slight impatience. He really hated jobs where their target was a variable. Corpses don't talk much. Lemon shared a look with him, one that made him sigh.

'Yeah, alright then. I suppose we have ten minutes to spare.'

A wave of the new car smell hit you from your place in the back seat. Yet their car definitely wasn't new but it had been valeted to appear as though it was. The car looked like it cost more to rent for a few days than a holiday home would. Tinted windows contrasted heavily with the sleek, dark silver exterior and the dashboard looked like it probably let the car drive itself if need be. All this and yet the air conditioning was broken on a day so muggy that your throat burned.

As you fumbled with the seat belt you caught sight of an array of different license plates stashed beneath the passenger seat, the pile splayed out like a fan. There were some whose layouts you didn't even recognise. Different colours, different years all ready to be changed at a moment's notice.

The place you'd been staying was only a few streets away but Tangerine circled the block three times before pulling in. For a moment you thought he was being overcautious but there was no such thing in this situation. You were grateful that he was taking your safety, his job, seriously.

'Stay here until I give the all-clear.' He ordered.

You looked on through the tinted window as he got out of the car, straightened his suit jacket and buttoned it as he walked towards your building. The sun glinted off a gun strapped to his side before he tamed his jacket from the wind.

You suddenly became acutely aware that you were trusting these men, two assassins named after citrus fruits, with your life.

'Do you like Thomas and Friends?' Lemon asked from the passenger seat, snapping you out of your thoughts.

'Sorry?' You thought you'd misheard him.

'Do you like Thomas The Tank Engine? From the show Thomas and Friends.' He clarified.

'The kids show?'

'Yeah, it's a lot more than that actually-' His phone pinged loudly, interrupting him. The sender's name was simply an emoji of what looked like an orange. 'Tangerine says the coast is clear.'

Tangerine was confused. Why did flat number 8 come before number 6 in your building? He glanced between the doors, each as old and poorly painted as each other. Then he realised that the brass number '9' that hung, half-bolted to the door, was upside down so it looked like a '6'. He moved it back into place with his finger, only for it to swing back down again like a pendulum.

He stood waiting at the door of your safe house if you could really even call it that. The flat's front door barely locked and the walls were paper thin. Even the floorboards sounded as if they were just one heavy step away from caving in. But it was quiet, unsuspecting.

You spared Tangerine a glance as you fished out your keys and unlocked the rickety door. He wasn't leaning against the wall, probably too afraid of getting dirt on his suit. You felt his gaze on you, bright and burning still. He was studying you, trying to figure you out. His eyes on you felt like fire licking at your flesh. It stung your nerves in an almost pleasant way. But you hated that it seemed like he was analysing you, dissecting you with his icy gaze.

Lemon shouted to say your flat was clear before you fully registered that he'd even gone inside.

Tangerine nodded his head for you to go in ahead of him so you did, hearing him close the door behind you with a loud squeak of the lock and the distinct sound of the flat number scraping against the crudely painted wood. The landlady wasn't kidding when she told you every inch of metal on that decaying door needed oiled.

After just one step inside, the unsettlingly loud floorboards greeted you as a spring morning would a returning songbird.

'Just grab what you need, yeah?' Tangerine instructed, clearly anxious to get on the road.

You didn't bother telling him that you wouldn't need long to gather your things. Being on the run meant you couldn't really take anything other than the bare essentials with you. You missed your everyday comforts and non-essentials that you hadn't had time nor space to stuff in your duffle bag that night.

Tangerine positioned himself at your bedroom door and watched Lemon wandering around your flat. A hand stuffed in his trouser pocket flashed the smooth silk lining of his jacket and the waistcoat beneath. His dark blue waistcoat was tailored specifically for him, it seemed. The pinstriped fabric hugged his every curve and edge. Everything about him looked expensive, not naturally but definitely by design.

You threw your duffle bag on the bed and began stuffing your things inside. Floorboards creaked loudly with your every step. It surprised you that those floorboards even supported a bed, even if it was small. You'd had to learn the hard way to wear shoes in the apartment if you didn't want a foot full of splinters.

'Any of that yours?' Tangerine asked. 'The blood.'

It took you a moment to realise what exactly he was referring to. The concern on his face took you by surprise as did the gentleness in his eyes as he looked to you for an answer.

'No.' You replied and he nodded, shifting his weight to the other foot before turning his attention back to Lemon.

The clothes you'd worn to work the night it happened dangled, blood strained, from a drying screen by the yellowing window. Despite you scrubbing them for hours the blood never did seem to leave the fabric. So now your garments hung like bunting cut from the most brutal cloth until you figured out what to do with them.

To an untrained eye, it could have been wine spilt from some jolly night that soaked them but Tangerine knew better. He'd had blood or wine, sometimes both, sunk into the fibres of his clothes on more occasions than he ever hoped to count. Wine was a great deal more difficult than blood, he found.

You heard Lemon coming before you saw him, his movements easy to track with the creaking boards beneath his feet. 'Bet you'll be glad to get outta this place then, eh?' He asked.

'You haven't told me where you're taking me yet. It could be some guy's dungeon for all I know.'

The pair of assassins looked so out of place in your shitty little hideout. They looked too expensive, too vibrant against the backdrop of greying walls and peeling paint. They reminded you of full-colour comic book characters bursting with paint that were dropped into some old black and white film. Two mediums too contrasting to mesh.

You'd just zipped your bag closed when you heard a familiar squeak from the hallway. The floorboards creaked as if a pair of heavy feet just stepped inside. You froze.

Surely, you hadn't been found already.

The look of fear on your face alerted Tangerine to the sound. Lemon pulled his gun as Tangerine sent a flash of metal twirling from his trouser pocket. They shared a look and Tangerine nodded his head towards you before stalking out of the room.

Whatever silent conversation they had, they each knew exactly what they needed to do.

They acted quickly. Lemon stepped towards you, motioning for you to keep low with an outstretched palm aimed towards the floor. He looked over your bedroom window for a potential escape route in case any gun that went off wasn't Tangerine's.

A gun never went off but you did hear a smack, a thud. Then silence.

'Tang, you alright?' Lemon called out, his gun pointed at your bedroom doorway.

'I'm alright.' Came his reply, his breath clearly ragged. 'Can't say the same for this poor bastard.'

You cautiously followed Lemon into the hallway to see Tangerine standing over a body, his chest heaving. The pair shared a look. Again, a silent conversation you could only imagine amounted to Tangerine confirming he was alright despite the blood splattered across his collar like red blossoms floating in a clear pond.

'Is he dead?'

'As a doornail.' Tangerine confirmed, the intruder's body lay crumpled like a puppet with severed strings at his feet.

He wiped his knuckles clean with a handkerchief, blood speckling the white fabric. Covering his knuckles sat a golden knuckleduster, alongside his set of golden rings. You watched for a moment, mesmerised, as he unloaded the man's discarded pistol and checked the magazine before tucking the gun into his waistband.

You didn't have time to feel relieved that the threat was dealt with as they ushered you out with your packed bag. But as you reached the front door, you turned around and walked right back in.

'What the hell are you doing?' Tangerine asked as you approached the body. 'We need to go. Now.'

You ignored him and turned the man's body over. Still warm. His head lolled at an odd angle, his neck broken. His dark eyes bulged strangely, the irises reminded you of dark buttons sunk into a pool of melted wax. It was easy enough to tell what had happened. Tangerine hit the man across the cheek with a heavy blow and then snapped his neck before he could retaliate.

'You robbing his corpse? That's cold, man.' Lemon's voice bounced off the empty walls as you patted the man down.

'I'm looking for ID! If someone's come to kill me I at least want to know who.'

It could have been a lot of people. You knew there was a hefty price on your head amongst Hollow Eyes' rivals. But this was the first time anyone came so close to killing you and despite the fear, the adrenaline, coursing through your veins you wanted to know more about this man.

The fact that he'd just died trying to kill you dawned on you. Tangerine had snapped his neck without so much as a second thought and Lemon was ready to put a bullet in the next person that walked through your door. That frightened you but was a strange comfort at the same time. These men you'd met a mere hour ago just took the life of someone else in order to keep you alive. It was a testament to their commitment to their job if nothing else.

Tangerine stood over your shoulder, peering down at the man. 'There. He's a Blackjack, looks like.' He pointed to a tattoo at the bottom of the man's neck.

He recognised the tattoo as one he'd seen on men who frequented the same information hubs as he and his brother. It was a strange symbol; The clubs and hearts pips commonly found on playing cards except their colours were inverted. To an untrained eye, it just looked like a very obvious mistake but to those familiar with it knew that it marked someone to be wary of. Every member of the Blackjacks had a pair of pips on their necks with inverted colours. Tangerine couldn't help but think the tattoo looked as idiotic on this guy as it had the other Blackjacks he'd had the displeasure of meeting.

'So he's not working for Hollow Eye?' Lemon asked, visibly confused.

Tangerine drew his brows together. 'Did you even read the files I sent you? Actually, don't answer that.' He didn't want them to look unprofessional around you, even if you weren't the one who hired them. 'No, Hollow Eye himself hasn't sent anyone to kill our friend here yet that we know of and let's hope it fucking stays that way.'

The man didn't have any ID on him so you gave up your search and joined the two men who now stood in your doorway, clearly ready to leave. You were quiet as you descended the stairs but Lemon and Tangerine chatted amongst themselves like they were discussing a football match.

'Blackjack's are the guys who take the whole 'eye for an eye' thing very seriously, aren't they?' Lemon asked but Tangerine just shrugged. 'Well, you might want to find out cause' you did just kill one of them and they usually travel in pairs.' Lemon turned to you. 'You didn't piss off the Blackjacks and all, did you?'

'Lemon-' Tangerine warned.

You hadn't been paying attention to them. The image of the man dead on your floor fogged your mind even as you stepped out into the open air. If the Twins hadn't been there then you would have come home later to that man waiting for you. It would have been you laying dead on those creaky floorboards, not him. The thought chilled you to the very bone. First Lemon and Tangerine found you and now the Blackjack? Three people in one day. How had you slipped up so badly?

'That man knew where I was staying...How did you even find me?' Was all you could really manage to say. Your entire safety net shattered and it felt like your life was being ripped out from beneath your feet again. That makes two times in as many weeks.

You just so happened to catch Tangerine's eye as you looked to them both for an answer. He saw then on your face the desperation, the defeat and the guilt. You looked like you thought you'd slipped up, maybe even that you deserved this, and he had to resist every nerve in his body screaming at him to comfort you and tell you that wasn't true.

'Word travels fast among people like us. It would've taken one informant who saw you walking home one day. That's it.' Lemon piped up, sensing that you were anxious. But whilst he sensed your worry, he also couldn't help but try and sate his curiosity. 'What did you even do to make someone want you dead anyways?'

'Lemon, pack it in!' Tangerine shut him down instantly.

'What? I'm just curious!'

'It was in the fuckin' brief that I sent you two days ago.' Tangerine hesitated to answer your question like he wasn't sure if he should be telling you this but after a mere second's forethought, he caved. 'Your friend, our employer, knew you liked that coffee shop. He just didn't know when you'd visit. All we had to do was wait.'

He could tell you either didn't believe him or didn't want to.

'Listen, I know you're scared and you have no reason to trust us or really anyone right now but I give you my word that we will do everything we can to keep you safe, yeah? It's what we're being paid for.'

He held his hand out, offering to take your duffle bag and stuff it in the trunk of their car. You'd barely registered that you'd crossed the cracked concrete car park until he popped the trunk. Your mind felt hazy and dreamlike.

'Exactly. If you don't trust us. Trust that we do our jobs and it's our job to look after you.' Lemon reaffirmed but his words fell on deaf ears.

Instead, you looked up at Tangerine, at the way he looked at you like he desperately wanted to gain your trust, for you to believe that he could keep you safe. He needed that more for him than anything else. He needed to know he could do something other than killing, even if he had to snap a few necks along the way.

He felt for you, unable to imagine how powerless you must feel right now with your world crumbling beneath your feet, letting you fall into the mud. He'd been wading through the mud for a while, Lemon too. The very least he could do was offer you a hand.

So you gave him your bag and he took it with a smile, like you did him a favour.

Across the other side of the car park, a man dozing in the driver's seat of a car with suspiciously darkened windows just so happened to wake up. He looked on as you, Lemon and Tangerine made towards their car. He hadn't even been awake to see you go inside the building in the first place. Although you'd changed your hair from the photo he'd been given, that was definitely you walking out of your apartment building unharmed.

You were supposed to just be some civilian. You weren't even supposed to be in your apartment right now, hence why he'd fallen asleep as his partner went inside to set up shop and wait for you.

They'd barely treated the order for your death as a job, more like a holiday with some first-degree murder sprinkled in.

Yet there you were alive and well and that meant his partner was dead.

Tagging: @icy-spicy @simpingforclaudette @cockete @padfoot-1959 @revenstaz @family-video @multifandomfanfic @robertdowneyhiddlesbatch @ashyyslashy @ifilwtmfc (please feel free to let me know if you’d like to be added to the Tangerine tag list <3)

#tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #tangerine #aaron taylor johnson #fic #only if for a night #series #mywriting #mine #k.exe #reader insert

589 notes · View notes

the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 year

Text

And the grass was so green against my new clothes

And I did cartwheels in your honor

Dancing on tiptoes

My own secret ceremonials

#only if for a night #florence + the machine #ceremonials #& I heard your voice as clear as day #🖤🖤🖤#Spotify

14 notes · View notes

teaganmyrick · 2 years

Text

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @timetide @teaganmyrick

SUMMARY: Teagan and Bobbi spend time together and are interrupted.

CONTAINS: N/A

The evening had been lovely. Filled with delicious food, fun conversation, and delightful company. Not to mention the beautiful day that had bled well into the night. Teagan wasn’t one to take night walks too often. Rather, she’d take night drives to go for night swims, and those usually led to her sleeping in the lake. But tonight was different. Tonight, she had Bobbi’s company to stave off any anxiety that dared try to enter her mind. It wasn’t that she didn’t think she could handle herself, she definitely could. Teagan just didn’t like to be bothered with it. She’d done enough protecting others and herself for so long, and she wanted to step away from that during the night at the very least.

“The stars look beautiful tonight,” Teagan looked up with a bright smile, appreciating the twinkling lights in the sky. She watched them nearly every night, always feeling somehow connected to her mother as she did. Like she was staring back at her too. Maybe it wasn’t true, but it didn’t have to be. It was just about feeling that bit of hope. “What do you think?” Carefully, she hooked her arm with Bobbi’s and nudged her to a stop with a sweet chuckle. It was the perfect spot. Without lampposts or other artificial light to impose on the beauty. “Do you look at the stars often?”

The night seemed to last forever, and Bobbi could not complain. The last time she had Teagan all too herself felt like centuries ago. For someone who had lived for so long, perhaps even longer, time was inconsequential, an illusion no longer heeded. But all that time she had spent away from the nix, those hours, those days, were hard to ignore. It was as if she had been missing a part of herself. To be fair, Teagan was the relative few that knew of what Bobbi truly was, perhaps even the only one who knows what her true form looked like. For someone who outlives everyone she had ever and will ever love, exposing herself, her vulnerabilities and insecurities, would be an unnecessary act, a waste of time. But Teagan was different. She felt different. She felt like the anchor to her boat.

“Hm,” came the only reply Bobbi could muster through that smile, her eyes fixated on Teagan as she relished the peaceful respite from anything remotely connected to the sea and her crew. The stars had always been there for the huxian, and although she started out relying on them for a lot of things, over the decades, the centuries, she had grown less dependent on them and more on the newer technologies mankind had shared with the rest of the world. At least with those, she could pardon them but not at all. “I used to,” she heaved a sigh as she felt Teagan’s skin on hers. “But not anymore. Can’t really focus on them tonight, not while someone more beautiful stands by me.”

“Oh hush,” Teagan scoffed playfully, leaning into the flirtations Bobbi always adopted so easily. From the beginning, it was the huxian who always challenged her nerves when it came to her attraction to women. She made it difficult to ignore, and looking back, Teagan was more than glad that she did. Had she been able to, she wouldn’t have further questioned herself enough to begin her journey toward acceptance. “You’re one to talk,” She mused, nudging Bobbi with her elbow. “And I do appreciate the compliment. Now that I’m fully healed and my waters are prospering, I feel so elated and free.” The last time the two were able to spend time alone was when they revealed each other’s true forms. A memory Teagan would cherish and keep in her heart forever. Because while she was proud of her appearance, she knew Bobbi had reservations on her beauty due to her lack of tails. She couldn’t be more wrong though. Teagan found her extraordinary. Absolutely breathtaking. Every part of her. She just hoped that Bobbi’s pride would reach her huxian self again one day. Until then, she’d be proud for her.

“You are right about beauty being distracting, though.” The bounce in Teagan’s step picked up, and she used the momentum to pull Bobbi with her in a quick spin. Behaving such a way was liberating, like she was making up for all the times she had let affections from Bobbi fall short. She knew she wasn’t able to give herself fully away to anyone, not yet, but she could give enough to sate both her and other’s desires. She did so with Marina and Patricia; two very dear friends. If Bobbi still wanted, Teagan would oblige in that connection. “You look lovely in the moonlight,” She breathed softly, leaning in and planting a kiss to Bobbi’s cheek just as a branch snapped only meters away. Out in the open, the nix didn’t pay it any mind. The two were safe, especially around each other.

Teagan was the kind of warmth that Bobbi had forgotten she ever wanted, needed. All the time they spent together, the moments they shared alone, the huxian kept close to heart, as if they were fragile embers that could set cities ablaze. She was caught surprised when Teagan took the initiative with the spin, though maybe she shouldn’t have. The nix was, after all, the one who helped her show her true self once again after so many centuries of hiding. As if her smile wasn’t already wide enough at the compliment, the kiss made it grow even more.

Yet there was something else that occupied Bobbi’s mind, a concern that she could not just sweep under the rug, forget so easily. Teagan had died, and she wasn’t around to protect her or do anything to bring her back. She did come back, and Bobbi was grateful for this second chance, but she wasn’t the type to just let something go, especially if it deserved her rage. Savoring the touch of Teagan’s lips for as long as she could keep those back, she reached for her hands, held them in their own, and caressed each with a thumb, her eyes lingering on them for a while before seeking Teagan’s. “Healed and free… For how long?”

Bobbi missed the breaking branch from the distance entirely, her only recent regret captivating, demanding, all her attention. “Shouldn’t we talk about what happened to you? Make sure it would never happen again? I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you again, Teagan, if I lose you for the…final time.” The huxian had lost so many things before, and every time, she had made sure that however she lost them, the price would be paid in full. Whoever killed Teagan, whoever dared touch her again, the price would not be so cheap.

The mood shifted completely the moment Teagan locked eyes with Bobbi. Worry and fear was so prevalent on her face that the nix’s hands twitched. She didn’t want to think of the fear of death, for it was a part of life that she accepted as a child. Not even experiencing it herself could dissuade her mother’s lessons, but something in Bobbi’s expression made Teagan falter. Emotions she had bottled up began to rattle and attempt to break free, making the hair on the back of her neck bristle. “For as long as Fate allows.”

Cupping Bobbi’s cheek, her face softened. “Bobbi, I’m here now. That’s all that matters. We can’t stop Fate’s will. If it’s my time to go, it’s time. I can’t…” Teagan paused, finding it difficult to swallow as fear bellowed in her stomach, constricting it uncomfortably. It felt so hard to breathe. She didn’t want to think about it, acknowledge the fear and get wrapped up in it like it was a boa. “Please, can we just enjoy what we have now? This beautiful night, the beautiful experiences we can have, all of it.” She rambled hastily, needing to get her point across before she spiraled at the memories of her death. “Please.” Pressure built in her chest, recalling the unrelenting and bitter sense of nothing. It was paralyzing, and she didn’t want to stand still anymore. She couldn’t.

Before Teagan let herself be stunned, she pulled Bobbi’s face to her own. She sank into the huxian, relishing the feeling of pure sense. She was no longer a petrified ghost of death or her own making. “See? We can do this. As much as we want. Isn’t this better than fearing or thinking of death?”

For as long as Fate allows. Bobbi didn’t like that answer. Her face made it obvious. She wasn’t disgusted by it, not even offended. She was just simply disappointed. But not at Teagan. Never at Teagan. She didn’t think Teagan could ever disappoint her. Instead, all that negativity was directed mostly at Fate: the concept, the belief, and perhaps even the very personification of whoever was pulling their strings.

Bobbi had been in Teagan’s shoes before, having put her trust and, well, faith in Fate, only to be gravely disappointed. Maybe Teagan would be luckier. Gods know she wanted to believe that. But Teagan had just died and only come back from the dead. Fate wasn’t exactly taking good care of her. “I don’t know, Teagan,” she felt her throat constrict from memories of her past, the many times Fate had abandoned her and her crew, stranded them all here and stripped them of their ship. “I want to, but I just don’t know… I hate not knowing.”

But then she kissed her, and although Bobbi was very much surprised by what had happened, what was happening, she surrendered to it, savoring the warmth that they were able to share between themselves. It wasn’t a bad way to shut her up, that’s for sure. When their lips parted, Bobbi could do nothing else but giggle like a giddy schoolgirl. Even though she had never had that experience. This one, though, was the best one so far.

“All right, all right… You got me, but I gotta say, that was cheating,” she chuckled, brushing stray strands of hair from her face and tucking them all behind her hair. “You really know how to win an argument, but I can’t complain since I also won.” Bobbi took a moment to look the nix in her eye, at awe of her beauty. She could spend the rest of her lives like that, just frozen in time, with just the two of them. “You’re the best thing about this life, Teagan.” You’re my sweetest downfall.

The way Bobbi submitted to the kiss wasn’t unexpected. In fact, Teagan was counting on it to provide the distraction it caused. Relief found her quickly, but it froze her skin just as fast to realize the very real feelings Bobbi had building in the chambers of her heart. She stiffened, knowing full well she may have just led the huxian on in her effort to keep the topic of death and numbness away. Everyone she had been was either lax about sex or firm about keeping things only physical. Bobbi was the first to look at Teagan that way. Save for maybe Patricia, but that was different, the nix thought. No feelings were there. They just made each other feel good about themselves. And really, she knew she wasn’t the best thing about life. If she were, she would be able to reciprocate whatever Bobbi felt. But she was scared. Too terrified to let herself take that leap with anyone. “Bobbi, I’m not—Truthfully, I’m pretty dastardly.” She muttered, looking into the woman’s eyes and cupping her cheek. “I can’t give you what you may want. The way you look at me—You deserve someone who can. I’m just—nrgh!”

Teagan was kicking herself as she slowly fell to the ground because she had heard the twig snap. She had. And she did nothing to stop whatever was coming. Based on the iron bolt in her shoulder though, it was a warden. “R-run.” She commanded, hands shaking on Bobbi’s chest, pushing her friend away quickly in time for the next bolt to zip past both of them. “Bobbi, run!” With a final push, Teagan released her claws and faced the direction the bolts came from as her hand wrapped around the one in her shoulder. She could smell the burning skin in the air, accompanied by blood as it seeped from her wound when she got the bolt out. Footsteps grew closer, and she unholstered her knife and released her claws to deflect. Hoping against hope that Bobbi would listen as the warden made her way toward her.

“Dastardly?” Bobbi searched Teagan’s eyes for answers to questions she wasn’t even sure what at that very moment. Deep within her heart of hearts, she knew the lingering uncertainty of what they were to each other would someday break free of its brittle cage in the backburner of her mind, the abyss of her emotions, but she had been praying that day would not come any time soon. Was that day today? Bobbi herself had avoided asking too many questions about the feelings she had for Teagan, preferring instead to ignore her doubts and concerns and relish the good things, savor their moments together, rare as they may be. “Hey… Hey, hey, hey! It’s… You are what I want… But it’s all right. We can take it slow. We can always—TEAGAN!”

Everything happened so fast. Like a blur before the blade of a traitor’s sword pierces through the skin between your shoulder blades. Bobbi has seen this before. No, Baozhai has. In all those years before, decades, a lover caught between her and the wrathful weapon of a prey turned predator, the casualty of misdeeds committed across the open seas. She mouthed Teagan’s name for a second time, maybe a third, as she froze in place, watching her writhe in pain, plead for her to run. Bobbi—no, Baozhai—ran all those years ago, centuries even. She will not run again.

With the storm’s fury in her eyes, the huxian turned towards their uninvited guest, scowling with all the rage she could muster. “You picked the wrong time to interrupt us, asshole,” Bobbi instinctively went for the sword around her waist, forgetting she had not carried the same for over a decade now, perhaps even longer. A gun had replaced it, smaller, quicker to use, but never really fired, her fists and feet doing most of the work it was meant to do. It was just practical that way. Unfortunately, Bobbi wasn’t packing anything. Not right now. It was a date. Why would I carry weapons?

Out of options, Bobbi let out a primal roar to let go some of that rage, and what was left, she channeled into a flying kick as she rushed forward, aiming to take the man out with a single move. Perhaps unprepared, or more likely unexpectant of the attack straight out of an action movie from worlds away, the warden was too slow to guard against it and found himself knocked out. Bobbi instinctively went towards Teagan—”Teagan! You all right?”—and turned her back to their enemy. Big mistake.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell was that?” The warden slowly rose back up to their feet, wiping the blood off their nose. Bobbi’s eyes grew in horror when she turned her head around, mouthing a question to Teagan as she gritted her own teeth: “Hunter?” Meanwhile, their adversary just let out a laugh, their confidence oozing. “Wow! That was…something. I know that one,” they pointed at Teagan before squinting at her. “What are you?”

The warden had no right to address either of them, their voice having no weight in a world they sought to destroy. A beautiful one they could never understand. Anger crept down Teagan’s spine, strengthening her and providing adequate motivation to fight through the pain as the warden asked Bobbi what she was. She knew they only cared to know so they could spout about the victory they were so sure they had. “Don’t you fucking touch her, you filthy shite!” Tackling them before they could get an answer, Teagan knocked the crossbow from their grasp and pinned them down to look into their eyes. Teach them a lesson on how to treat their prey, the people they were so keen on killing without knowing a single detail about them besides their nature.

“Get off!” They kicked into Teagan’s stomach, but she didn’t budge despite having the wind knocked out of her. Her claws and knife dug into their arms, the blood burning her skin, but the adrenaline was a wall between her and the pain. They continued to kick and she didn’t budge for a few more breaths. Eventually though, Teagan’s vision became spotted, the formations growing in number and strength. The tides shifted, and she toppled to the side as she gasped, caving into her need for air. Looking which way and that, her eyes softened, landing on Bobbi, who still hadn’t run. Why would she? She was just as stubborn as the nix. Especially when it came to a fight. Physical or verbal, or even mental, Bobbi was a formidable opponent because of that hard head. Neither of them would run, so the only thing left to do was finish the fucker who ruined a perfectly good evening.

As Teagan managed her way back to her feet, the warden did the same after rolling like a drowning fish on land. She liked the sight, the way irony wrapped around them in a way she couldn’t verbalize. “Take this,” She offered her knife to Bobbi, forming her claws on her now free hand. “It can still be a fun date, eh?” At that, a hand landed on her injured shoulder, but she managed a smile. The fun was about to really begin.

Bobbi was a little surprised when Teagan showed aggression she had never seen from her before. Then again, the huxian had never tried to infuriate the nix, and she couldn’t blame her either. Hunters were a bane to them, the more superior inhabitants of this plane. They were nothing more than mere mortals with nothing else to do, nothing better to live for, but kill and maim and torture their betters, just because they were jealous of the folks that could be extraordinary things, were more blessed and gifted than their mundane species. Teagan was on the right, and Bobbi would support her all the way through.

“Teagan!” Bobbi went to Teagan as soon as she could, trying to figure out what was wrong. What wasn’t? She tried to offer her as much assistance as she could, looking for the closest source of water, only to fail. The nix was choking, but she wasn’t out. Bobbi did her best to help her up without touching her. Just in case she accidentally made things worse. Bobbi wasn’t a doctor or a nurse, but she had the sense not to grab someone in pain without first knowing the source of that pain, and as everything was happening so fast, chaos swirling around them, she dared not risk her loved one’s safety. “Are you all right? Take it easy.”

But then she was offered a knife, and Bobbi did not hesitate to take it, her eyes memorizing the hilt and the blade, its grip and its sharpness as she held the weapon in her hands. She was used to holding bigger, wielding far more impressive and heavier blades, but this hunter, whoever they were, they did not deserve a memorable death. Taking a single step with the foot farthest from Teagan, she used it to ground her weight while she spun downwards, closer to the ground, bending her knees as she shifted her weight to the other foot. As she descended with a swirl, she stabbed their prey with the knife given to her, burying it deep into the back of his closest leg. As they screamed in pain, Bobbi grinned, reminiscing about how that very move has saved her life countless of times. Well, Baozhai’s life, anyway.

A wide grin formed on the nix’s face as Bobbi took the knife and performed a move so fluidly and perfectly. The hunter’s exclamations of pain only widened Teagan’s smile and if she could have done so in that moment, she would’ve kissed her friend again. But those kinds of pleasures would have to be left alone, waiting until they were safe. “Nicely done!” She zipped past Bobbi, not wanting to give the hunter a moment of reprieve. Doing so would grant them the opportunity to retaliate, and she would have none of that. Though she supposed she didn’t have to worry about them even fighting back at that point.

Teagan watched as they attempted to crawl away, sending her into a wicked chuckle. Grabbing the scruff of their shirt, she pulled them up and dug her claws into their throat, whispering softly into their ear. Like she was their lover, and she was uttering sweet nothings. When in reality, she was giving them one last retort. “Hwyl fawr gythraul.” Her claws plunged even further, and with one fell swoop, she ripped out their throat to end their misery. Good riddance.

“Are you okay?” Teagan remained facing the hunter, but she wanted to check in with Bobbi and see what she wanted to do next. She’d need to get out of sight soon. What with all the blood covering her body. It wouldn’t be too long before the adrenaline wore off and the blood burned, or until someone came by to check on the cluster of violent sounds that emanated from the scene. Panting, she turned and requested her knife back with a hand, and wiped her face, which only smeared the blood more. “I’ll need to head to my waters to heal, but you’re welcome to join me. I can patch you up there too. Did they hurt you?” She asked earnestly, brows wrinkled together as she checked her friend. Bobbi looked okay, but Teagan knew she could have easily missed something in her daze.

For a moment that felt like eternity, Bobbi just stood there, watching Teagan dispense of their predator turned prey. She was panting, her heart rate up, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Was it because of the fight? Because Bobbi had been in worse scuffles with worst odds. This was not one of those fights. Or was it because she was seeing Teagan in a new light? Was she not meant to defend herself? By any means necessary? Was the nix supposed to just stand there, lie there, and take all that pain like a damsel in distress? Bobbi shook her head, chasing those thoughts away. No, in Baozhai’s time that may have been the way of the world, but as people change, so too do their ways… Often for the better. This…is so much better. She grinned as she approached the nix, answering her questions with a passionate kiss, pulling her close gently by her nape and a free hand, savoring their first victory together, her heart beating the fastest she could remember in recent times.

When she pulled away, she retained that playful smirk, eyes on Teagan’s, even as she surrendered her knife without hesitation. “You are amazing,” the words escaped her lips effortlessly, lubricated by growing admiration for the powerful woman in front of her. If they had the time, and if she was brave enough, Bobbi would initiated something else, something to fuel the passion some more, but this was neither the time and place. Maybe her waters. “Yeah, we should skeedaddle. I could join you. That sounds like fun.” Nevermind the bruises and the bleeding. Bobbi had suffered worse. She would only have suffered equal to all that if Teagan was taken away from her right then and there, but as the dust settled and all that remained was the deluded hunter’s corpse, suffering wasn’t the name of this game. She was gladdened by that thought as she held Teagan’s hand, running her thumb on it, as she waited for her lead. She would follow the nix to the ends of the Earth.

#wickedswriting #words in the water #writings #only if for a night #bobbi and teagan

7 notes · View notes