#war and treating wounded soldiers? fine nothing

[ghouljams]

So you might’ve said something previously and I just missed it but I was reading the tags on your post about soap and Goose and goose had an accident? And Soap drove her to the hospital??? Have you said something before and I just missed it it’s 5am here I feel like I’m going insane trying to figure this out-

Goose's accident happens at the end of Soap's first summer with them and is part of Goose's story that I haven't talked about yet because, well, there's no good way to bring it up... but it colors a lot of how Price treats her on the farm as well as how close she and Soap are. Nothing brings people together like some solid medical need. We are also going to do some serious suspension of disbelief as I write moderately improbably situations and injuries, everyone be nice.

You never really bought the whole slow motion play in movies when characters get hurt. You've seen people get hurt, seriously hurt, and it always happens fast. It's quick and messy, and you've never needed a slow motion edit to know that it must have hurt like a bitch.

You get it now. That your brain must have been trying to find the right angle to record the trauma, that it must have been searching for some way out of this. Once you actually were hit everything sped back up, the pain sped back up. You try to lay still and stare up at the clouds, you're supposed to stay still until someone comes to patch you up. You're cold.

Soap drops to his knees next to you. You think that cloud looks a lot like a butterfly. He presses down hard on your stomach and the ringing in your ears grows louder until it pops and you feel the full burning extent of the pain. It's excruciating. Every nerve in your body lit up on high alert to make sure you know you've been nearly gutted.

People are yelling, Soap is yelling. You've never heard him yell before. His face is twisted into something unreadable as he looks at you. The world seem very fuzzy and watery, or maybe you're crying? Are you crying? You can't feel anything past the electric shock of ripping pain from the wound.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," He's telling you, "I have to keep pressure on-" and you don't really have the brain power to parse the Scotts that he's speaking past that.

Your stomach, aside from feeling like its been thrust into a salted fire, is wet. That must be the blood. And there's something hard on your chest, something that's speaking in a calm tone.

You try to focus on your breathing, but that only brings fresh shocks of pain through you. It feels like every twitch makes you want to flinch away from your own body. You've never felt a pain so all-consuming before. So bad you can't even draw a breath to scream from it.

The flashing lights of the ambulance sure got here quick. Or, no, have you been down that long? Someone shines a light in your eyes like they're some sort of doctor. Soap is talking to them with short military precision. You've never ridden in an ambulance before, you'd almost be excited if you could think of anything but the pain. Actually, you can think of something else.

You think the Lucas' have to be the only morons in the state that don't have their bull's horns tipped.

#Soap keeps it together just long enough to throw up in the ambulance #war and treating wounded soldiers? fine nothing #treating his wounded sister? traumatizing the worst thing he's ever had to do #Price never forgives himself for being deployed when this happened #doesn't let Goose help out on anyone else's farm again #doesn't let her in the pasture alone #puts up a fight when she wants to compete in the rodeo #Soap literally stripping the shirt off his back to apply pressure #GOD They all love you so much Goose #Duck is working at the hospital and gets called to the ER it's the worst day of her life #Goose gets a cool scar out of the whole experience #oc: Goose #johnny soap mactavish #cowboy!141

[killmongerskeeper]

Crashing Waves // Chapter 1 // Namor

Pairing: Namor X POC Reader

Warning: SPOILERS If you haven't seen Black Panther 2 / Violence

A/N: Time to roll out the Namor fics! Because that man had me in a chokehold!

Chapter 2

You were fuming. Stuck on this stupid military site in the middle of the fucking ocean with two people pole who have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Taking a student's science fair project is one thing, but actually stumbling across vibranium in the middle of the ocean. Yeah that's not good. You have to keep it out of the wrong hands. You promised Shuri. Even if you had to use your powers to do so. 

T'Challa calls it being gifted. You call it being cursed. Being able to manipulate things telepathically. Force fields, mind control and shit. Nothing too extreme like Wanda Maximoff. More of a simplified version. Only difference is you can see through other people's eyes. 

Shuri always wanted to see you do it in person. Wakanda has done so much for you. Saved your life when Killmonger took over, treated your stab wound from battle, and offered their home to you. I made new friends and found a family. You owe them your life. Queen Ramonda, Shuri, T'Challa. The least you could do was help protect what was theirs

"We should leave it alone! You and everyone else heard what the queen of Wakanda said. We can't just go around stealing their resources!" You shouted as the general stood with his arms crossed. 

"Vibranium could be what this nation needs to prevent war. And it's right here at the bottom of the ocean." The other agent spoke and you snapped your head in her direction.

"Taking the vibranium will start a war! Are you guys that dense?" You shouted and then she stood holding her hands out to calm you down.

"Professor. Y/N. Please we are too close to pull back now. The vibranium is right there." She tried to reason with you but you knew the consequences behind this. Especially after hearing the queen's threat. You knew better than to take it lightly. 

"And what if the Wakandans show up. If they decide to take more of a lethal approach? That is a war you won't win." You told her as the general walked closer to the two of you.

"Professor, we brought you out here to help us find and secure the vibranium given your abilities. What we didnt bring you here for was to give us a pep talk. Now if you won't help us, you can go back to that classroom at that university."

It's true they came to you because of your experience with Wakanda and the folklore you grew up on. With you knowing the history of Wakanda and vibranium, you were a perfect pick. You didn't however expect them to actually find it. 

"My pep talk just might save your ass, general. I'm not talking for my health. You wanted me here because I've been there, I know them. Now I'm trying to help you BECAUSE I've been there. This will not end well for you." You sneered in defiance and he scoffed. 

"Fine. We won't need you up here. Take her to her room, and keep her there." You raised an eyebrow as a soldier grabbed your arm, dragging you out the room. 

"Ross will hear about this!" 

After a couple minutes descending the stairs you were now locked in your room with the soldier standing guard at the door. 

"Fucking asshole!" You shouted as you slid your back down the wall to sit on the floor while you held up your hand. The green hue danced around your brown fingers as you stared into the small void it created. You smiled at the memory you had stored away from when you revealed this to Shuri and T'Challa for the first time. How they asked you to stay in Wakanda with them. As much as you wanted to stay, you had to decline because you couldn't leave your younger brother behind. But now your brother is in college and T'Challa is gone. You should've been there. With them. To console them as they did you when your mother died.

"They're making a mistake! War with Wakanda isn't a good thing!" You shouted at the guard and he waved you off. They could be coming for me, you know? I could've contacted them about the vibranium you guys found down there!" You lied through your teeth and grinned when that caught his attention. He turned to you with a horrified stare and you shrugged. 

"They are my friends, you know." You started as you stood on your feet walking towards the door. He went to speak before a couple of gunshots rang out and we both froze. 

"Did you really contact the Wakandans?" He asked with fear laced in his voice. 

"Um no. I was bullshitting you actually. Are we under attack?" You questioned and he readied his weapon before taking a deep breath. 

"Stay here." He said and you shrugged. 

"Not like I have a choice. Wait, don't leave me down here!" You screamed after him as he went to investigate what was going on. You quickly locked the door and shot out a small green sphere into his back as he disappeared up the stairs where you couldn't see him anymore. Closing your eyes your vision was replaced with the soldier's as he slowly approached the top. The general was now a dead man as he hung from the wall by a spear. He looked up into the sky in time to see the chopper get thrown into the ocean.

The soldier's breathing became irregular as he began to panic so you decided to speak to him. "Relax, just hurry up and radio for help." He jumped a bit, startled by the voice in his head and he sighed. 

"I forgot you could do that." He mumbled as he went for the general's radio. "Mayday. We're under attack at the vibranium site. Send a strike team now."

"Copy that. Do you recognize the assailants?" Another voice asked and he looked around. "Wakandans."

"No. These aren't Wakandans." You said and the soldier frowned. 

"Then who-" Without warning your vision came back to you causing you to fall over. The soldier is dead. You sat up to catch your breath as you stared at the door.

"Who the fuck-" you started before the sound of the steps reached your ears. You quickly stood with your arm stretched out aiming at the door ready for whoever it may be. The knob turned once before complete silence engulfed the room. You held my stance as some curls fell in your face. Whatever it is, you're ready for it.

#black panther imagines #black panther reader insert #black panther #black panther 2 #wakanda forever #namor x reader #namor x you #namor #namor imagine #crashing waves fic

[yandere-arts]

Yandere COD Ghost HCs Act 2

A/N: I literally hate writing fight scenes, LMAO. Sorry this took SO LONG but school’s been kicking my ass :/ Had some time to spare, though, so here you go 🙂

TAG LIST: @simligul , @greenkiki

Part 1 of my Yandere Ghost HCs series :)))

—

TW: yandere behavior, staring, stalking, ghost himself is enough to be a tw, misogynistic behavior (fem reader), war, guns, lots of blood, violence, hospitals, cursing at reader, self doubt and maybe some anxiety if you squint

—

ACT TWO in which Ghost discovers that he cares more for you than he initially thought, and that no injury, no pain, nothing will keep you away from him. —

-Gravel crunched under your boots as you and Soap made your way towards the main warehouse. Nerves were high and you tried your best to focus on Price’s voice as he navigated you through the aisles and rooms once inside. There were bags everywhere and a chemical stench rotted off the walls, yet the two of you kept moving. 

-All was well until you heard gunshots down the hall and a blend of Russian and English cursing. Ghost had found the man you were looking for, but he had been found as well. 

-Immediately, you and Soap sprinted towards the noise, firing when you saw the tall bodyguards. 

-Ghost’s gun and knife were on the ground — they had disarmed him. 

-Soap was screaming at Price though his mic, and Price was screaming back at him to stay in position. Not to move, not to flinch, even, to just take it as it was. You heard Price's hesitation as he spoke. You knew things had to be bad if he was concerned.

-So you acted. You didn’t know why — maybe out of some stupid need to protect your teammates. You took the bodyguards out while Soap dragged Ghost up to a sitting position. He was growling something at you as you stayed behind to cover for them, bullets whizzing past you and you responding with equal fervor. 

-Suddenly, Price was screaming over the radio, telling everyone to get out — to abort — and soon there wasn’t a sound in the facility as TF 141 left, wounded and nearly one man down, yet with the intel. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-Once back at the base, the commotion started up again as the wounded were treated soldiers decompressed from their respective missions. -But TF141 was filled with anxiety as they waited for the results of Ghost’s condition. Soap was insisting that Ghost would ultimately walk away from this experience with nothing but a few scars, but you didn’t think so. This guy… he was supposed to be unbreakable. Untouchable. Everything you’d heard about him you’d thought to be undeniably true. And yet, YOU had to drag his ass out of there with Soap. All you wanted to know was what went wrong.

-After a few hours, Ghost was well enough to have visitors. TF141 flooded in, all nervous smiles and waves. Ghost’s right arm, upper right thigh, and head were bandaged and blood was already seeping through each wrapping. It became quiet again once they actually saw him in his disheveled state. This was not who Ghost was.

-“You all right there, mate? You look a little pale,” Soap said, attempting a weak joke to lighten the mood. Ghost’s pale skull mask was still on, now clean of any blood and gore that once decorated it. He grunted slightly in response to the joke, but his eyes weren’t on Johnny.

-They burned into the yours, something like fury rolling around in them. He wasn’t… mad at you for saving him, was he? He shouldn't be, you were simply doing your job! And yet if looks could kill, you'd be in a coffin already...

-The men around you shifted uncomfortably as Price began lightly scolding Ghost for his incompetence. Ghost only broke eye contact with you when Price yelled at him. It felt as though an enormous weight had suddenly been lifted from your shoulders.

-Price eventually ushered everyone out of the room for a little one-on-one chat with Ghost, most likely to make sure that everything was fine with the normally deadly man. Turning to leave, you heard Ghost's rough voice call out to you by name, ordering you to stay. Oh God, this was not going to end well.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-"I don't think you understand how a fucking team works (Codename)," he remarked, intensely staring at you from beneath the plastic barrier.

-You scoffed, "Ghost, I think I perfectly understand what a team does. Soap and I saved your ass when you needed us that's how--"

-"No, sweetheart, you don't understand. I don't give a shit about who saves who. Your job was to stay in your FUCKING POSITION until one of your superiors -- me -- told you otherwise!" he roared. Though lying in bed beneath you, you felt the room getting smaller. His presence was enough to suffocate you now, and his yelling made your throat dry and tight. Nevertheless, you argued, knowing you were right.

-"With all due respect, I am a part of this team and my job is to protect my teammates. If Soap needs help, I'm there already. Gaz? I'm right by his side. But if YOU need help, it's suddenly a crime to assist someone? You could have died! The mission would have gone to shit and every--"

-"SHUT YOUR MOUTH (Codename)! SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH NOW. You listen to your captain and your superiors from now on, as you should have. Price told you to remain in position and yet you had to move your ass and do something fucking heroic! I will have you cut from this team if you do not control yourself and follow the rules, (Codename), mark my fucking words. You do not get to make the rules. You do not get to disobey my commands. You do not get to play the hero because actions have fucking consequences, and you’re not apparently smart enough to understand that.”

-He stared ferociously at you, but slowly he became blurred. You couldn’t — wouldn’t — cry in front of him. That would only make things worse. You tried to be practical. You tried, but your superior yelling at you, the toxicity of the environment, the stress of the transfer, the fact that you weren’t fucking good enough despite everything you’d done — it was too much.

-“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to do my job,” and then you walked, slowly enough to make sure he knew you were’t upset (though he read you like an open book), but fast enough to escape him.

-His yelling echoed through the room even after you left, and was the only sound left echoing after you shut the doors.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-It was ridiculous how desperately the team tried to act normal following Ghost’s injury. For nearly a month, you went about training other recruits, helping to move equipment, working out, and doing everything to pretend that TF141 was whole even without Ghost.

-What a lie… even Graves had made comments about things were starting to go downhill. But everything that goes down must come up, right?

-Apparently. A month after the accident, you finally decided to talk to Ghost again. You were still upset over his words and actions, but he was right in a way (though it hurt you to admit it.) You had acted foolishly, but you’d do it again. Better to do that than see another person die.

-And you still felt guilty over getting the last word on him. Poor guy was bleeding out… maybe you should have been more sympathetic? Maybe you could make things right.

-So here you were, dressed in normal clothing, standing at the foot of his bed where you had fought with him merely 31 days ago.

-He just stared at you, dark eyes painting his hauntingly attractive mask (you never thought to consider how pretty his eyes were…), waiting for you to make the first move.

-“…Ghost…,” you began. You hadn’t used his codename in a month, only Lieutenant. “I… want to apologize for my actions. I was irrational and I could have gotten myself hurt too…. I’m sorry.”

-You watched him carefully, wanting to see just a flicker of emotion behind the mask. God, you wanted to tear it off his face and just SEE him.

-Ghost closed his eyes for a moment before shifting his weight forward and sitting up. “(Codename), I understand why you did what you did. I just need you to understand that it was not the right moment to do it. I’m sure you already know how fucked war is and how fucked soldiers are. I’m replaceable. I shouldn’t jeopardize the safety of the mission. We got the intel, but this can not happen again.”

-You nodded and your eyes met with an understanding forming between the two of you. Slowly, you pulled up a chair next to his bed and you began to speak about what had been going on as of late with the team.

-Of course, you mentioned Soap’s terrible jokes, Gaz’s midnight escapade that got him grounded for a week, and the one time you almost set the entire barracks kitchen on fire. Though you couldn’t see his face, you were sure he was smiling at your gestures and the little voices you made to mimic your teammates.

-He couldn’t lie… it was endearing. And he appreciated that you apologized, though he felt it was deserved. Truth be told, he didn’t know why HE apologized to you.

-Normally, it’d be radio silence from him. But… he liked you. He LIKED you. And he wanted you safe and on good terms.

-By dinner, you had to leave, bidding him farewell, and leaving the chair empty. He stared at it for a while after you left, thinking over your conversation and your past interactions. The way you’d fearlessly defended him, despite barely knowing him. You’d opened up to him, you’d protected him, and you CARED for him. Your recent actions were proof enough.

-For the first time in years, Simon Riley’s heart was truly warmed by the thought of someone caring for him. This wasn’t like something between him and Soap or him and Price. This was… different.

-Simon Riley thought for a long time, long after the lights had been turned off and the infirmary had gone quiet. He thought, he wondered, and he realized… he may be replaceable, but you, darling, weren’t.

-With that thought in his mind, Simon was calmed into sleep. Slowly, he drifted off into dreams where you were by his side again, witty, hopeful, and irreplaceable.

#yandere ghost #yandere cod #yandere call of duty #yandere simon riley #yandere ghost x reader

[darkphoenix5037]

Hitta

Welp here is another one. This will be OT7(focus on Namjoon coz he is my bias, but bonds will be formed with others too) with A/B/O dynamics, Vikings influences, with badass but slightly low-esteem oc, stray kids as her platonic family, battle, blood, revenge, game of thrones-esque plot, death and lots of sex.

It will be multi chaptered.

Please share your thoughts and let me know what you think.

P.S. The title means 'to find' in old norse.

SUMMARY- You never really thought that your destiny would take you so far away from home.

CHAPTER 1|CHAPTER-2

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

It rains the day you lay eyes on your intended.

In the blood-stained field in front of the castle that you call your home stands him, Kim Namjoon, the biggest warlord the world had ever witnessed. His army consisted of thousands even millions, those savages, as the south would like to call them, were more powerful and disciplined than any army you had ever seen. Their troops were roguish in looks, yes, but their skill in battle was no joke.

Kim Namjoon’s skill in battle was no joke. He fought bare-chested with an axe and a sword; you had heard that he could cut down men with a single sweep of his sword. He was a true demon in battle, as most raiders were, but his skills put the best warriors in your homeland’s army to shame. His great heathen army slaughtered your king’s army by thousands every day, other than leaving hundreds of men injured.

You would know as the chief healer, stitching wounds, cauterizing them, applying salve to burns, cuts were fine. Holding the hands of dying soldiers as they hallucinated their mothers, lovers, wives and sisters was not, not even for someone like you who was used to blood, battle and death.

But you pushed on, for the king, for the country, for the people, you worked day and night you pushed on.

These days the workload had been increased as the king had no taken to treat the prisoners of war as well. The injured and the dying of the heathen army were brought to the camps to get medical assistance if possible and the injured ones were returned to their camps and the dead were returned to the opposing army with respect.

You were not thankful for the workload but what could you do, the king commands and the rest follow.

You were not thankful for the workload but you applauded your king’s nobility nonetheless. Your brother, Christopher Bang was nothing if not noble and kind and humble. Maybe that was why his army were ready to die and kill for him. Maybe it was because he thought of all as equal, be it the duke or the beggar’s son, Alpha, Omega or Beta everyone was equal in the eyes of your Alpha brother.

Maybe that was why you, an Omega, were working in an army camp filled with betas and alphas at all times of the night and day. Maybe that’s why you as an omega, could kill and maim as well as any alpha.

He was strong, your brother, but too kind, too truthful and too righteous for the world that he was in, younger than you but still on the throne for the gods gave him a cock and the second gender of an alpha and you a cunt and the curse of being an omega.

You weren’t brother and sister by blood, you were the orphan the previous king found on a hunting trip, half feral, in the jungle, at the age of seven.  You were brought to the castle, Christopher took one look at your small, slight frame, for he was a giant to you even at the age of five, and decided that you would be his noona. You took his hand and resolved to protect him forever. Nothing much was needed after that.

He deserved better though, you thought. Better than this wretched war and that godforsaken alpha Kim Namjoon who is intent on busting down the doors of your home.

Your name being called out draws you out of your mental reverie.

“Princess, the king calls for you at the front.” Ser Seo Changbin of your brother’s personal guard says.

You finish stitching the heathen soldier’s wound and apply salve and bandage before patting him roughly on the shoulder and getting up.

“What is it?”

“The king calls for you. He did not tell me the reason, your grace.”

You gesture ser Changbin to head the way as you follow him to the wall where your royal brother awaits you. He turns towards you as you come near.

“Leave us.” He commands.

“Is everything alright, my king?”

“Call me Chris, sister, how many do I have to repeat that?” he says.

“When we are alone, my king.”

He sighs, but motions to the battlefield, a far away look in his eyes as he looks down upon the ruin the battle has caused on the once green fields.

“We are not going to be able to defend ourselves for much longer if this goes on, sister, Kim Namjoon gets closer to defeating us every day. We cannot keep going for much longer.” He says. He sounds tired, too tired for someone his age.

“Why don’t you sit on the war council with me sister, we could use your skills?”

“You know why, you might not mind your omega sister, one of common blood at that running around with a sword in her hand, but others do. Alphas do, I would rather die than let anyone of them insult you again after what happened. You know better.” You spoke.

He sighed heavily.

You look at your younger brother, he looks as though the weight of the world sits on his shoulders. It does in some way, you think, this kingdom, as large as it is, it is your world.

His world.

He fights for it today, for its very existence.

Of course, the weight of this responsibility weighs him down. He is fighting, not only for his kingdom, but his world, his home.

“Is it time that we seek a truce with them?” You ask.

“We have no leverage; he knows he can defeat us. He needn’t sue for peace to ask for anything, he can take it, all of it.”

The sun has gone down, you see the enemy camp at a distance, its torches shine bright.

“Then we can only hope to reach stalemate, Chan-ah” You call him by the name your mother called him when she was alive and try to calm him down with your scent.

“I hope so”

He suddenly seizes you by the shoulders and says, “Stay near the battle field tomorrow, sister, I feel that tomorrow might be the day- “he stops, his hands trembling slightly.

“I need you by my side noona, I need you there, the troops need their lioness. I need you, We need you. It could be tomorrow that that godforsaken man would break down the doors of the castle. I don’t care about what happened five years ago on that wretched battlefield. I care about now, about today.”

You looked in the distance. Towards the enemy camp and remembered the amount of injured and dead on your hands, the heavy losses and the weeping mothers, fathers, daughters, sons and wives. You had to be there, if not for your sake then for the sake of your country.

“I will be there Chan-ah. Noona will watch over you. Ask my personal 300 to report.”

He takes you in his arms after that, keeping you in his embrace and you let your forehead rest on his broad chest. He holds you tight enough and breaths your scent in, as if you are the only thing keeping him grounded.

Nothing is said after that, as both of you silently carry the fear of tomorrow in your hearts.

…………………………….

The next day clouds gather in the sky as you don your armour.

You hadn’t stepped in the battle field not since the last war, not after what happened five years ago.

Blood.

All that you could see was blood, it stained everything in sight.

Your hand, your face, your armour, the field around you.

There was a strange ringing in your ears, you moved forward regardless, your axe cutting down everyone and everything that stood in front of you.

A voice called.

You knew that voice.

It was coming nearer.

The person was in front of you.

You swung the axe, but people were suddenly holding you back, you could not move.

The voice was closer, louder, shouting.

“Noona”

You gasped as if you had just broken the surface of the water in the lake and looked around.

You saw worried and slightly horrified looks. You saw your brother looking at you, scared and unsure.

In your daze, in your state of berserk, you had tried to kill your brother.

You hadn’t stepped in war since. You were afraid to lose control, afraid that you would kill your own men in that state.

Being a berserker was not easy, the warrior lost themselves in that state, all that mattered was killing, not injury, not pain, not fatigue, just death. You had been stabbed in the arm and calf that day but you had not stopped your killing spree regardless. The title of lioness bestowed upon you that day and your fame as a berserker had spread far and wide.

Stories were told about the omega berserker who had lost herself and battle and killed half a million people in a single day, who had won the war in a single day. No one had dared to attack your homeland after that, until now.

So, for the sake of the king, your brother, and your people you don the armour you had abandoned.

You sighed and headed to your horse, and followed your brother to the battlefield.

………………………………..

#bts #kim namjoon #vikings #namjoon x reader #alpha bts #a/b/o dynamics #badass reader #smut #angst #skz #brother bangchan #love #romance #fluff #bts x you #tw obsessive behavior #obsessive #yancore

[14846]

Chapter 5: Cage

Reiner had gotten used to the damp, brick interior of his new domicile. The flex of his hand told him he'd been here for long enough to see his knife wound start to scar over (his most recent wound was unreadable as it was still covered with gauze). He would think over this human ability over and over again, but for the sake of this story, perhaps it's not necessary to peel the audience over the reason again.

A guard had told him the first night he arrived in his prison cell, after he had been long treated for his wound, the stakes of his commitments to jail. It was unlawful behavior, for taking part in physical harm and further eliciting bodily anguish onto another person. There was supposedly discussion if they'd count him as an accomplice to what they worded as the riot. It had currently been growing so out of hand, that now officials were disseminating warnings of evacuation for citizens in the relative area. Reiner did not know to what extent.

It would be neglectful to not mention how the hazel-eyed man's first thoughts bolted to his friends. Most importantly, and unashamedly if he should mention, Janette. He had known his comrades enough to be in confidence that they were most likely handled correctly. And in a general synopsis as he slowly discovered, his military friends were not in trouble. They were guided away in mature fashion, and it so happened to be that it was the security guard's first duty assignment attempting to guide Reiner to safety. A horrible luck of the draw, and by all means necessary, Reiner mulled over it quite a bit.

At first he was angry about the whole thing. The conspiracy of having him judged as an accomplice to what was now being featured as an act of potential terrorism. The fact that his friends were safe, but not him. The lack of contact he had to the outside. How he wanted to shake some hurt to the poor security guard who failed him. Where was that poor excuse of a security guard, anyway? He had heard nothing from the fool, and he assumed it was because of the insurmountable guilt of failing his first mission. He wouldn't be able to look Reiner in the eyes. Reiner only knew half of the story. 

He had to draw out his thoughts, and slowly the resentment of the situation faded as the days longed into weeks, and from there he lost track of time. His poor girl must've thought he'd abandoned her. He was woefully pitiful through his escapades of missing her. He'd turn and curl in his given bed, hug himself and bare his fingers into his arms out of shame. If there was the phrase of crying, shitting, and puking, Reiner would've used it. He was sure he lost her. For some reason these were the first ruminating thoughts. He became so selfish that all worry of even where she was, or if she was okay had been deserted. No. It was hope. He had so much faith in the idea of her being completely fine, that he took no more worry. He just became piss poor thinking he could not be okay with her. That fairytale in his mind was the only thing keeping him clear in conscience.

It wasn't until about the third week that he accepted in religious faith that he'd escape. Nobody was coming for him. He had no visitors, and he found no home in the jail within the island of Paradis. It was a sorry excuse to not be a Prisoner of War by this point. Civil disputes were a heavy matter. His conclusion for the idea of escape lulled from his intonation of being a scout. A heavy realization that he accepted. He started to mental note habits of the area around him. When guards would switch, which fellow inmates had special privileges, and much more of the same realm. 

His cell neighbor, Elias, would entertain some information during the little freetime inmates would share in the courtyard. The bastard was brilliant, but short, unappealing, and covered by a thick layer of glasses over his eyes. Might I say that perhaps that isn't as unappealing after all. Elias came aware quickly of the soldier's need to escape. He wasn't sure if he could trust this once stranger, but after some time it meant no difference to him. Any level of betrayal would mean no difference to him. It was either escaping, or not.

—

“I think Emanuel has a connection, Reiner.” The short, brown-haired man said one day in the courtyard.  “What kind of connection?” “The kind to buy freedom.” The two argued about why Elias would not join him in an escape. Truth be told, Elias claimed he was too old for that debauchery. Ironically, the blonde wondered if his physical age matched Elias’ after assuming the power of his titan for so long.  “Would Emanuel be able to divvy up a share of freedom to an idiot like me?” The conversation was short-ended after that. Maybe the question seemed too rhetorical, but for whatever reason Reiner dropped It. The two robotically found their worn clutch of grass by the chained fence that enclosed them from the outside, and got to playing cards. 

Elias was the only kind person in the prison, the soldier assumed. He didn't know what the older man saw in him, but there was something fatherly in his behavior. Reiner never knew that his familial sore spot could potentially be so easily seen. He could never figure out why, when they'd eat or be outside playing cards, that the man would slip him some cash to get by. At first, Reiner’s heart sank as he assumed the old man wanted a sexual favor in exchange for the cash, but it was when Elias expounded he wanted nothing in return for it, did Reiner just slightly believe him.

He still rejected the money, at first. It wasn't until he got scammed by a senior inmate and didn't have any money to pay in resolution did he find himself at utter ends. He had nothing. No paper, no pencils, no extra privilege. Not until Elias insisted. Reiner was still convinced in the back of his mind that the other wanted to shag in the public showers, but the need from Mr. Glasses never came. Reiner hid his money in his shoes, pillow, and just about anything that he had ownership over. They never questioned it, and Elias never wanted any thanks. The whole thing made absolutely no sense to the blonde.

“You need to get that hair on your face shaved. You're starting to look like a scoundrel.” A card tossed in the center pile. Reiner didn't even remember what the game was called. “And your head,” he added. Reiner joined a card in the center and eyed Elias in amusement.

“I don't know. I think the ladies like it.” What ladies, where? There were none to be seen in this facility. Janette surely wouldn't, would she? She wouldn't want him now. She must've found someone else after he assumed he broke her heart. Elias interrupted his thoughts.

“For someone known to have helped save the world, you surely don't get any visitors.” The confirmation of his thoughts stung, but the other made no look of discernment as another card was tossed into the middle pile. There were so many questions unanswered. Nobody had come to see him. He had gotten zero letters or any kind of message to reveal the state of his friends. He assumed the worst. Had they given up on him? He tried. He thought he did the right thing. He wanted to prove to them- that's how he even ended up in this prison. The thoughts were not worth his time. Survival was key here.

The whistles blew, and it was time to be a dog again, rotting and leashed.

#anime #anime and manga #aot #aot reiner #aot x reader #attack on titan #manga #reiner x oc #reiner x reader #aot fluff #reiner fluff #slow burn #fanfic #fandom #shingeki no kyojin #eventual smut

[softguarnere]

Hey, Dove. Wanted to say that the somft Bill fic is awesome and I 100% melted while I was reading it, thank you very much! (also it's so nice reading about writer's fave, I can feel feels)

I'd like to make one more request if you're not too tired of me sending them hehe. So, here's this trope:

And I would eat up anything with that. Could be headcanons, but an one-shot is good as well. Again, pairing is dealer's choice <3

Don't You Feel My Heart Go?

Shifty Powers x reader

A/N: Ainslynn my dear, I always smile when I see your requests in my inbox :) As someone who struggles to come up with prompts and good starting places for fics, I appreciate every one 😘 And I'm glad that you liked the last fic! I'm back on my there's not a lot of Shifty content and I'm determined to remedy that agenda, so I hope you enjoy this one, and thank you for another wonderful request. (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: blood, injury, mentions of war

In hindsight, deciding to have a race in the unknown Austrian terrain probably wasn’t a great idea. Especially not after the afternoon rain shower a few hours before, which has kept the landscape shiny under a thin layer of water.

“You think this is enough to get me sent home?” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Shifty doesn’t laugh. Bright eyes hide beneath furrowed brows as he glances up from your scraped leg.

He sighs and leans back on his heals. “I don’t understand, (Y/N). You manage to go the whole war without gettin’ hurt, and then right as it’s about to end, you find a way to break your streak.”

“Hey, I haven’t gone the whole war. I accidentally burnt myself with your lighter back in Holland, remember?”

“Yeah. But that wasn’t too bad. You weren’t gonna get sent home over it.”

It’s not just a scraped leg, you have to remind yourself every time you even think about putting pressure on it. You had experienced plenty of those in childhood during rough play outside to know the difference. No, this is worse, no matter how much you would rather not admit it. Your shoe had sunk into a moist patch on the road, causing you to lose balance and skid a little down the path. Nothing that you hadn’t done while running up Currahee during Basic. But there’s a long cut tracing down the side of your calf that stings whenever you so much as look at it.

“Where’s Tab? He should have been able to find a medic by now.” Shifty looks around with a frown. You’ve seen him upset before – who have you not seen get upset about one thing or another throughout the war? – but this is different. He usually looks pensive, deep in thought, when something bothers him. Now it’s as if a cloud has fallen over his sunshine face.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“But you’re not. Look at your leg!”

You would prefer to not look at your leg, actually. To see your friends and fellow soldiers suffer injuries and wounds in combat is one thing, but to see yourself bleed? It’s one of the only things in the war that has made your stomach turn.

“I don’t know what to do.” Fear creeps into your voice, mingled with the stinging pain that you’ve been trying to ignore. The change in your tone softens Shifty’s expression. He glances again between your leg and the direction that Tab headed when he left to go get help.

“I’m no medic, but maybe we should try to stop the bleeding?” He stands, and before you can figure out what he’s doing, he takes off his t-shirt and rips the hem to create a thin strip. Using the larger section of the fabric, he carefully begins to wipe away any dirt or blood from the cut, apologizing any time that you hiss in pain. Then he takes the smaller section of fabric and tries to bandage the wound with it.

He talks the entire time – half assuring you that you’re doing fine and will be okay, and half scolding you for agreeing to Talbert’s race and injuring yourself – but you only catch bits and pieces of what he’s saying. You’re more focused on the way he gently treats the cut, the way his fingers on your leg cause a warm and funny feeling to run through you. Sunlight shines on his light hair and casts shadows across his face in a way that highlights his fine features. And, most noticeably, he's shirtless, which, for all your closeness with him during the past few years, you’ve never experienced before.

In the past, there have been a few times that Shifty has said something, smiled a certain way, or generally just existed, where something about him has caused your heart to speed up. But there was a war going on, so you had always pushed those feelings about your friend aside. Now though, with the war in Europe over . . . You can’t look away from the man in front of you.

“ – everyone wants to get home somehow, but I’d be so sad to see you go . . .” He looks up then and meets your eyes. Your heart pounds when you realize that he’s caught you staring at him, and you pray that he can’t hear it.

“(Y/N)?”

“Is that why you’re upset?” You ask as the meaning behind his words finally hits you. “You don’t want me to go home?”

Pink tinges his cheeks like the first notes of dawn on a spring morning. “I would miss you.”

“I would miss you, too.” It’s not a particularly hot day, just pleasantly warm, but for some reason you feel like you’re boiling under his gaze. Your words are true – you would miss Shifty, but the more that you think about it, the more that you realize that you wouldn’t miss parting with him the way that you have with other friends. No, when you think about heading home, something heavy – longing – tugs on your heart strings. Could that be what Shifty is feeling too?

Only one way to find out, you suppose.

“Shifty – “ Has your throat always been this dry? You take a breath before you continue, “ – I don’t want to miss you.”

He lifts an eyebrow at your word choice. “I don’t want to miss you either.” He ties off the end of his makeshift bandage and sits back. “Listen, I know that this isn’t the best time to say this . . .”

“Yes?”

“But with the war, I suppose there will never be any proper time.” He glances up at you with something new on his face. Strong, sharpshooter Shifty looks almost nervous, which you can’t remember ever seeing him do before. “I like you, romantically. I could just never find the right way to tell you that.”

Every emotion that you’ve been pushing aside for the past few years seems to slam into you with full force. Your racing heart trips over them. “I feel the same way about you.”

His face lights up, his smile chasing away the anxiety from a moment before. In your relief, you have to laugh, only to wince at a sudden stabbing pain in your leg. Once it passes, you try to flash him a reassuring smile.

“If it took me sliding down a hill for us to admit that to each other, then limping around for a few days will be worth it.”

“Well, you’re lucky that I’m strong enough to carry you around,” Shifty says, nodding towards the piece of t-shirt wrapped around your leg. “because I don’t think the medics are going to let me be your personal doctor.”

The way that his face lights up with his sweet smile at his own joke sends a new rush of emotions over you, but this time you don’t try to push them away. You feel yourself smile in a way that matches his own – it feels good.

Yes, you tell yourself, despite your hurt leg, worth it.

#it took me entirely too long to figure out where I was going with this one #oops #shifty powers x reader #shifty powers #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #my writing #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #tumblr friends

[ronearoundblindly]

When You Wake, Love, I'll Be There

[forgot I never posted this sambucky hurt/comfort from last summer]

Summary: Bucky has a nightmare and wakes up with Sam ready to help. WC 940

He can almost taste the copper tinge in the air breezing over the ever-soothing Sam.

“Bucky, look at me. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

Bucky’s arms won’t move fast enough, like he is slogging through mud in the trenches. The pulse of blood racing down Sam’s side strengthens just as Bucky tucks his hand behind his love’s neck to feel the rhythm weaken there. He wants to treat the wound.

He wants to tell Sam that he’s right, as usual, and that he will be fine. He wants to smile and watch Sam smile back, knowing the crinkling of his own eyes is Sam’s favorite feature of his. The instant the corners of his lip twitch in the attempt, however, the sting of tears Bucky’s shedding pinches his face into a knowing grimace.

Sam’s eyes aren’t looking at him anymore. His pupils are too wide in the sunlight. He’s not blinking. The blood isn’t flowing anymore. Bucky screams as if the jolt of his name in his deaf ears will wake Sam, props him up into his chest as if to press air back into his lungs, kisses his lips as if he’s not growing colder by the instant and—

He hears the thunk of the window hitting the frame before he recognizes the feel of sheets beneath him. Bucky’s arms are empty, only the weight of thin, summer fabric draped over them. He’s scrambling to orient himself in the dark.

Sam knows the smell of fresh air lets Bucky know he isn’t in a cell—if that’s what this one was about—and that returning to the bed to tuck Bucky against his chest let’s him know he isn’t strapped to a chair—if that’s what happened this time—and that telling Bucky what day it is let’s him know those bad times are long past—if that’s where he’s been.

But none of that seems to help this time, and suddenly Bucky is clawing up Sam’s arms, wrenching his head from Sam’s chest, and staring at him like he’s a ghost, flesh and metal hand on either side of Sam’s face. Sam understands without words, even though Bucky’s never had this nightmare before.

Sam cups Bucky’s taut jaw, tilting his head to press into Bucky’s grip. “I’m ok, Buck. I’m right here.”

He’s panting, faintly sweating, his palm clammy on Sam’s cheek, but he gulps back a whine and nods while Sam continues, firm, deep voice rolling over him. “You’re ok. We’re both alright, right here. Nothing happened to me. See?” Sam gently grips Bucky’s wrists and peels the hands away.

A gust of wind knocks a branch against the windowpane, and Bucky instinctively dives over Sam to take the bullet instead. Now, Sam understands a little better, hates that he knew this one would come, yet is surprised it’s taken so long. He takes a breath in, placing a solid hand on Bucky’s bare back.

“Soldier, the fight is over. We survived. We both survived.”

Bucky isn’t blocking over Sam anymore. Instead, he’s curling into his lap like a scared kitten, letting Sam sweep damp hair out of his face, gripping above Sam’s knee like an anchor as he sinks to the ocean floor.

Bucky feels the fresh air, but he could smell the blood before. He can hear Sam’s words, but he’d made assurances moments before. Bucky knows the war is over, but there’s always another one...

Sam tries again, swirling circles into the back of Bucky’s neck, mussing his thick hair. “Do you remember the day we came home?” 

Bucky opens his mouth as if to speak but nothing but a shaky breath emerges. Sam knows he has to bring him back. 

“The day we stepped off the plane at Lehigh? Crowd behind a fence, posters high in the air, everyone screaming—“ Sam made a muted roar-of-the-crowd noise for effect “—and I was super stoic and cool and waving while you were your usual brooding mess. Totally killed my Cap vibe—“ Bucky’s hand grips above Sam’s knee again like a warning “—dude, you did. Absolutely killed all the awesome I brought to the place.” Sam gets a little quieter, leaning over close to Bucky peeking up from his spot tangled in Sam’s legs, “but what did I whisper to cheer you up?”

Bucky pries himself up slowly, replacing himself into Sam’s original position, Bucky’s head against Sam’s smooth chest, heartbeat strong in his ear. They sink back down to lie on the bed. 

“‘ You are one intense mother fucker ,’” Bucky mumbles through a tight throat, “‘ and I love you .’”

Sam kisses Bucky on the crown of his head, nodding as he nuzzles in. He can feel Bucky faintly smile, his cheekbone pressing into Sam’s skin. Even without seeing the man’s face, Sam sees the gentle creasing at the corner of Bucky’s eyes. He dreams about it sometimes and thinks he’ll try to make Bucky smile for the whole day tomorrow, hundreds of smiles, each making his favorite little crinkles deepen in pleasure.

Bucky clears his throat before boldly stating, “so that makes you a dumb mother fucker then?”

Sam is stunned for a split-second, laughing before he’s even decided it’s funny, and shimmies himself down to level with Bucky against the pillows. “That’s how you wanna play this, huh?”

The intense glint in Bucky’s eye answers Sam more than any words could. Sam’s pulling Bucky into his arms in an instant, Bucky’s soft lips are capturing his, and he’s mumbling that last of his threat right into Buck’s mouth. “We’ll see who’s--”

But the thought evaporates like the lingering dark as dawn hits the window.

This was originally a drabble dedicated to a friend reaching a personal milestone last year, and it's still near and dear to me. Hope you liked it. Thank you for reading!

#fanfic #fluff and feels #captain america fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #sambucky #sam wilson fanfiction #sam x bucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #hurt/comfort #nightmare #ptsd #tfatws #winterfalcon

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Happily ever afters pt5

You sat in the dining room waiting for Bruno and his guest to arrive. You combed your fingers through your hair for you had nothing to do. You felt I'll as your mind wondered. You wondered where Risotto was. Perhaps he'd gotten some more help for that wound of his.

Your head shot up as the door opened revealing Bruno and a blonde man in a royal blue suit.

"Ah I'm surprised to see you here early (Y/n), I'd thought measurements for the dress would have taken longer" Bruno exclaimed.

"So this is the lucky lady you've been talking about all day?" The stranger asked. You did feel the heat in your cheeks hearing that Bruno had been talking about you.

"Only positively of course" he continued when he noticed you were flustered.

"This is Giorno Giovanna, one of the illegitimate children of the Joestar family. He's been a good friend and ally of mine for quite a few years now" Bruno introduced his friend to you with a smile.

"And Giorno this is my wonderful wife to be, (Y/n) (l/n) the Princess of Lenar" Bruno continued

"I was hoping that over dinner we could all talk about Diavolo's former kingdom? thought it'd only be right for you to have a say in the discussion" Giorno asked as he walked towards the table and took a seat on the opposite side as you before Bruno sat beside you.

A few servants walked in, one poured wine in each of your glasses while the other two placed the entree in front of you. On the small laid a small amount of courgette linguine with a lemon slice and sprig of mint to garnish. You took one of the smaller forks and a spoon before twirling the pasta between them to wrap around your fork before taking your first bite. The flavor of the lemon and mint were the first your pallet could pick up, followed by the subtle taste of the courgette and pasta. You then took a sip of the white wine that had been poured into your glass, it had a strong almost herbal taste that paired well with the simple flavors of the dish.

Bruno began to talk to Giorno about his previous battle against Diavolo’s army which Giorno had commanded. You felt rather bored as you ate the pasta in front of you, you perked up a little when you heard the mention of medics.

“I remember when my brother and I had to treat the soldiers of Carnon” you mentioned causing both of them to turn their attention to you.

“I didn’t know Lenar was also involved in the war” Giorno replied, though he was very well composed you could tell he was surprised.

“Not majorly, my parents only sent out medics to assist. If we had been vocal against Diavolo he’d have easily overpowered us” you explained.

“But why did you go? A princess shouldn’t ever dirty their hands’ Bruno asked.

“Because Lenar is a kingdom not as wealthy as here and at the time I was already volunteering as a nurse. My family always believed that as royals we should put the wellbeing of the ill and unfortunate before ourselves, for what is a king or queen who does not care for their people?” you replied before taking a small sip from your wine glass.

“Your family sound like they were amazing people, I’m sure they’d have been happy for you” Giorno said. Bruno seemed a bit embarrassed by what Giorno said. He could see your expression change to a more solemn one.

“Giorno I Don’t think-” Bruno spoke but you interjected.

“No it was fine, I know they would have been… honestly thinking that is what has helped me keep going since they passed” you said before eating the last of the linguine. You already felt so full from just that small serving yet you were expected to eat more, the past couple of nights Bruno had been trying to get you to eat larger servings telling you that it was not healthy to eat such tiny portions but you could barely work up an appetite since you’d escaped from Diavolo.

Soon one of the servants came and took your plates. Bruno took his last sip before turning to Giorno.

“I have something I need to run by you urgently before I ask any of the neighboring kingdoms”

“Of course, what would that be?” Giorno asked.

“The huntsman of the east escaped from the dungeon under Diavolo’s castle, I’m planning on having a large bounty placed for him. His crimes have gone unpunished for far too long” Bruno replied. The mention of Risotto nearly made you jump out of your seat. You wanted to speak up but the words refused to leave your throat.

“You intend to have him executed? With all due respect, I don’t think that would be an easy task…” Giorno asked.

“Yes I do intend to” Bruno replied. You stood up from your chair without realizing and you spoke with little thought.

“No he shouldn’t be executed!” you nearly yelled, catching both of the men off guard. Bruno gritted his teeth as he heard you oppose him.

“Why?” Giorno asked, curious as to your reason.

“I don’t think killing someone is just in any circumstance, If he spared my life I believe he could be rehabilitated” you explained, Giorno simply nodded. He was baffled as to why Bruno was trying to have the huntsman killed, usually he had the same stance you did. So why was it different in this case?

“Even Diavolo?” Bruno spat in an abrasive tone.

“Bruno?! How could you-” you exclaimed as his venomous tone stabbed into you.

“Well Risotto Nero was hired by him to kill you, are you ignorant to that?” he continued.

“How dare you bring him into this! You know how much I suffered because of him?!” you yelled as you felt tears form in your eyes. You pushed the chair back and exited the room and fled to your bedroom.

Bruno sighed as he held his head in his hand.

“Bruno, is something the matter? I’ve never seen you act like this” Giorno asked. He needed to know what had gotten into Bruno.

“I’m just stressed, I’m getting married and soon I’ll be controlling three different kingdoms… I’m sure you can understand that” Bruno explained with a huff.

“Yes I do but how you spoke to her was unwarranted, you knew that Diavolo had traumatized her yet you still brought that up and for what? To make a petty argument?”

“You know I didn’t mean it, it just slipped out”

🪞🪞🪞

After dinner giorno left the dining room to see Abbacchio standing in the halls.

“Abbacchio, I need to speak with you privately” Giorno spoke in a serious tone. The knight sneered but followed the blonde to one of the guest rooms.

“What is so important that you had to speak with me? Surely his highness would rather listen to you?” He asked in an annoyed tone.

“It is Bruno who I need to ask you about, He’s been acting strange. Perhaps you have an Idea as to why?”

Abbacchio stared at Giorno with a piercing gaze as his arms were folded, he remained silent.

“Please I really need to know, we can’t help him if we don’t know why” Giorno asked once more and Abbacchio sighed.

“It has something to do with his fiancee, he spoke about her so much after Diavolo’s soiree. I suspected she may have done something to him… but after I talked with her this afternoon it seems unlikely. She told me that she was hesitant on the marriage”

“And I can’t just shake how uncomfortable I felt when he demanded that her corpse was to be held in the castle” he continued. Giorno’s eyes widened in shock.

“What do you mean by her corpse?” he asked, confused from what the knight had confessed.

“Bruno had brought her in a glass coffin claiming she had been murdered by Diavolo, everyone had prepared her for a burial but He insisted that she remain in the castle, Turns out Diavolo had cursed her and Bruno had broken the spell. That’s what he says but I can’t fathom how Diavolo could do that, surely if he had wouldn’t he have already used it”

Giorno was shocked by what Abbacchio told him.

"Bruno never told me about that, all he told me was that he saved her from Diavolo" he replied finding it strange that Bruno would leave out such crucial details.

"Abbacchio, I know you do not have the highest thoughts of me but could I ask you to keep a close eye on Bruno? I don't know what is going on right now but if we work together we'll figure out what's going on" Giorno asked.

"I will… However if anything happens I'll be at Bruno's side, so don't you dare think of using this pact as a means to your own goal" he disdainfully agreed, he never could trust the blonde general with one hundred percent.

"I promise you that I have no other motives, I'm just as worried for Bruno as you are"

#yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere x reader #fairytale au #yandere bruno #yandere risotto

[cindera-etharians]

"Don't talk to me about loss, I've lost more than you ever could. Do you know what it's like to have your heart broken so many times? Course not, you're a professional not allowed to love or care.

I was a damn fine soldier once, a vanguard of King Lires army. I've fought from the pearl coast to the mandeers forest and my men were some of the finest fighters. I lead them into some of the worst battles and came out unscathed, but...Cindera, that battle would be my last. We were ordered like many times before, "go in first and slaughter them". So we did, the clashing of steel and the whistling of arrows all around us. Back to back cutting down the bastards. Men cried like babes, bleeding out, the ground was saturated with so much blood it made us slip.

We were supposed to hold out until the calvary flanked them, but it didn't happen. We were surrounded and getting cut down like wheat, those still dying clutched at my legs begging me for help, I could feel myself being dragged down.....I had to do it, I had to kill them....my own men... what else could I do?

What few of us remained barely fought our way out back to our line, wounded and covered in so much blood it thickened on our armour. They sing about the glory of battle, aye there is but they don't tell you...they don't tell you that it haunts your dreams. You know what we got when we made it back? Not a medal or praise but fucking chastised! for retreating, my service my loss just to be thrown down like a bloody rotten apple.

The drinks flowed that night and into the morning, we made a choice. Keep fighting this damned war, or desert and head to our loved ones. We tore off our insignias and left in the night, some went south, the rest came with me westward, I offered them rest once we'd make it to my home.

You ever felt an overwhelming joy to see your loved ones? That the risk of death because you abandoned your oath didn't cross your mind, because all you can think is thier smile, thier warmth when you embrace them.

I never got to experience that... instead I arrived at an empty house with a note on the table, turns out she'd been getting pricked by some skeevy rat for quite some time. She had a enough my going away for months at a time fighting senseless battles so she ran away with the dog. My daughter's gone as well...my children, she took everything yet I gave her and the kids all the spoils from my victories to keep them out of being poor. To make sure they wouldn't go hungry, she lost love for me.... I'd have hung myself if my men didn't stop me. I thought that she'd calm my nightmares....I never thought she'd be apart of 'em.

What'd you expect from a man who has nothing left but skills in fighting? Course we'd gone rogue and took whatever the fuck we liked. Recruited those who were left to die by our so called King, touring the country side we called it, ambushing merchants and the like, sometimes units on patrol. You ever see those poor saps in the streets of Bedliehm? Loyal soldiers once proud, now broken and begging in the streets like lowborn rats. That's how they're treated, I'd be damned if I let my men end up like them, lower than a common rat, that's why we do it. You think it's right for men who gave everything, then to tossed aside like they were fucking nothing, lose everything that was keeping them alive inside, to end up lower than human? A shell of a man. Tell me, how's that fair.

Now, you've come here hunting me down like a rabbid hound. How much was it for my head, 300, 400 gold? Ha! I was worth nothing at Cindera, my love meant nothing to my wife but as soon as I made my own.....MY OWN DAMN GLORY! They fucking care now don't they?! Care enough to send you after me,.....what does it matter now.

You've cut down my friends, my men. Scorched whatever I had left, what's it fucking matter now. So, are you going to cut me down or find some rope and a tree with a strong limb, what are you going to do now Huntsman? How will my story end."

#writing #world building #character #medival #mediaeval #battle #monologue #wrote #write #story #storytelling #war #vanguard #warfare #soldier #bandit

[successionmanga]

Chapter 29

At Lord Ruebelli's territory named Seon, he receives news from a "comrade" who tells him that Lord Taine has joined up with the Lagens and that considering that he's already been interrogated, he should be more careful around Lord Lagen. And it's the fifth letter he's got. His nephew tells him not to be bothered by these rumors, reminding him he went to school with Lord Altol. Lord Rebelli says he has to go back to the castle...

Back at the sacred land, Belca looks over the wounded Eco, ruefully noting he couldn't do anything. Then he hears a voice that sounds like Hector from outside and rushes out to the doorway...only to be met by Hector's former attendant, Yan Yashuka Koal. In these lands, he's known as Tenko. Acting according to Prince Hector's final wish, he did not attend his funeral and instead went directly to the Hokulea to protect them. He thought the whole situation was fishy but he couldn't disobey his orders. Thankfully, things have been going good since Lord Taine is the only acting officer for defense and his power cannot reach the sacred lands. Belca thanks him, for honoring his brother and protecting the Hokulea. Tenko notes that Belca sure has changed since he last saw him and that he's sorry for what happened in the spire, having already entrusted that territory to a trustworthy person. He himself came here to protect the High Priestess. He also apologizes for what happened to Eco but Belca stops him, saying that it happened because he wasn't stronger. Tenko tries to assure him that there was nothing he could do but Belca says he still has a bunch of questions for him so he needs to talk to him for a while. Tenko agrees.

Once upon a time, when the heavenly spire was built, there was said to be five High Priestesses but it's just Master Renju (The Gatekeeper) and Master Subaru (The Shaman). Master Subaru serves as the eyes and ears of Master Renju, still being in training but possessing immense power as well as the ability to sing. The latter point is important because there are no history books recording the history of the Hokulea. Their history is kept through oral tradition in the form of singing and folk songs. If that's the case, should there be a song about the incidents regarding Reitz the First? Wondering that out loud is how Tenko finds out he read "that book" (hidden in that porn). Turns out singing the song of history is a difficult task, so difficult that Renjou's body is too weak to sing it and Tenko has never heard it before. When Eco recovers, both priestesses might sing it for both him and Belca. Tenko asks if he can listen to it with them. Belca says it's fine...then he hears shouting from the underground prison.

Shingetsu is seriously about to fuck up Izayoi, saying he betrayed them for the people of the Stone Capitol. Izayoi says that there are people like Prince Hector, Prince Belca and even Prince Orcelito promised that a law would be passed to keep the Hokulea from being hunted. He believes that they can fully put their differences behind them one day. That's why he can't work with Shingetsu because she only thinks about fighting. War begets more war...everyone's just gonna end up being killed just like Taihaku and his group. Shingetsu says that she might not be right but what he did was stupid, Belca rushing down to stop her before Renjou beats him to it. Izayoi begs Belca to tell Shingetsu that Prince Orcelito has already agreed to help the Hokulea and Belca...doesn't? He just recognizes him.

Renjou, walking off with Shingetsu, says Izayoi isn't alone in his feelings; everyone's tired of this. Of course, there are still those who want to go to war. Renjou then mentions that they were saved by a virus, causing Belca to ask Tenko what became of the soldiers. Tenko says they fear it's The Plague.

Going to visit them as they're being treated (the Hokulea are more resistant to The Plague than the Azelprade people), Tenko explains The Plague is the result of the squirrel mouse contracting the disease and spreading it to humans. The climb through the mountains probably lowered the guards' strength to combat the disease. Belca asks if they're going to die. Tenko says he doesn't know.

Meanwhile, Orcelito is lying in bed, angsting. He thinks he's no different than the elders now, having strayed from his path. Kiliko comes in with tea and tells him not to feel bad about Kamino, given it's forbidden to wander around during The Plague. Orcelito says he keeps acting really familiar with him considering he killed his brother and Kiliko basically responds, "Old news.". Orcelito says he was just feeling nostalgic so Kiliko moves in on him, saying it's time for a little chat...

So on the roads on the West Raka Street, Lord Ruebelli arrives at a VIP hotel. He wants the special room but it's already been taken by a guest. He demands to know who...and of course, it's Lord Lagen. Lord Ruebelli goes in to confront him and asks if it's because of The Plague that everyone in his territories have left to go to the kingdom. Lagen coldly excuses himself and Ruebelli notes that he always acts like he's so much better than him...he goes to his room, drinks and burns it down with him inside it. Meanwhile, Kiliko tells Orcelito his family's secret close enough that the private guards don't hear...

So Belca tells Eco about the priestesses' situation and he then says he has no choice to press forward, using everything from others to his own body as chess pieces to achieve his goals. Belca says he chooses to believe him.

The two go to see the siblings and it's time for the performance. They'll be using the flow of music a.k.a. the words passed down from different generations and weaving them into the music, making the lyrics sing of prophecy and time. The chapter ends with everyone waiting...

#+c: sword and cornett #plus si #manga #review #i bet they sing hamilton

[theseventhoffrostfall]

How do you deal with banking and wealth in your settings? Do you have modern banking systems, whether in fantasy or interplanetary sci fi stuff? How is the distribution of "net worth" allocated? Do your rich have Wearable Wealth, magical diamond encrusted armor, swords made from rare elements, luxurious fabrics etc? Is it like the Medicis and Borgias (and 1980s drug cartels in miami) where the corrupt build buildings to launder money and also show their benevolence? In your societies how does one show off their status?

Well in my fantasy setting, it's nothing crazy. Gold, silver and copper currency, along with commodities ranging from oil and spices or fine fabrics to 'base' materials and goods.

I already discussed last how the clans in my second sci-fi setting handle wealth, in that 'wearable' tokens like rings use quantum entanglement to act as keys to vaults of valuable resources, with possession of the token by necessity denoting ownership.

In my primary sci-fi setting (and among the lowborn humans and similarly-advanced aliens in the secondary) it's more complex. Nation-states still have currency and exchanges (when in contact with each other) but out in wilder areas or when leaving a less-connected world or system, a ship's captain would need to "cash in" his currency and do a little speculation based on where he's going. Valuable components that are harder to fabricate, raw materials, even foodstuffs and medicine might be practical media of wealth when bridging between economies that don't recognize each others' currencies.

in my fantasy setting, since you mentioned magical items, while yes magical trinkets and such are valuable, wealthy people might use the more innocuous ones as status symbols and wealthy private soldiers (or "adventurers", much as I loathe the term) tend to invest in the weapons, on the whole magical weaponry is treated more as a strategic asset. While there are private owners and noble family heirlooms, rulers and states try to consolidate as many magical weapons and items as they can and deploy them strategically. The customs of war likewise acknowledge battlefield salvage as legitimate, and captured magical weapons may be ransomed back to the state, especially as part of peace treaties, and magical weapons and devices are not-infrequently used as a key component of military aid to an ally. This can even include famous artifacts like the swords forged in Heaven and sent down to earth. One would think that the Duke of That Which Kills would object to seeing The Father of Wounds that he personally forged being bartered back and forth and traded around between designated unit champions rather than being wielded by some destined hero, but as established, Crucian is kind of a psychopath. He's satisfied as long as the sword is killing people.

Among the Clans, despite having a strong cultural affinity for combat knives and bayonets, they're so divorced from any historical roots in any culture that had a tradition of fencing that they barely know what swords are. At one point, the War-Prince meets a "wizard" in his "tower" (an alien scientist, doing research aboard a private space station crewed by his own clones) and the wizard shows him a super-cool sword he made, enwreathed in an energy field that disrupts shields and with a monomolecular matter-disrupting edge that can sheer through the toughest armor. The War-Prince says that it is indeed very cool, and asks how one uses one of these things. The wizard replies that he doesn't know either. Eventually he buys the sword for the equivalent of fifty bucks because maybe the King will want to wave it around dramatically during meetings or something

#worldbuilding

[struggling-with-time]

Could I ask for c!Wilbur being a gn reader's father figure? Can be either a one shot or headcanons, whichever you prefer. ^_^

Paring: c!Wilbur Soot x Gender Neutral!reader

Summary: Your life as raised by Wilbur Soot.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, betrayal, hurt.

Words: 1.7k

A/N: I'm not sorry for this, however, I am sorry for if you wanted something different, then you are welcome to request again and I will write another dadbur fic. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Request here.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Wilbur Soot

He finds you lurking around the outer skirts of the newly established country of L’Manberg. The country that has yet to declare full independence.

“Hey there, what are you doing around these parts?”

From that day on he took you, the bewildered child from nowhere, under his wing. Letting you into the drug van.

You grow up with Fundy being your older sibling. Wilbur in the first years being there for the two of you.

He teaches you how to play the guitar.

And while you don’t become the best player at it, you can play a couple of camp songs.

Then the independence declaration comes.

And everything changes.

Nice nights with Wilbur, Fundy and Tommy turn into war planning sessions you aren’t allowed into.

You are the youngest citizen of L’Manberg, leading to everyone trying to keep your innocence

Especially Wilbur after he drags Fundy in as a child soldier in his war.

But you are there, right on the battlefield amongst everyone, and you are there afterwards as you help patch up the hurt.

Eret is the one who teaches you how to treat a wound after Wilbur gets an arrow in his shoulder after a tough battle.

Leading to you keeping to Eret whenever Wilbur is planning. And Fundy seems to be running off with Tubbo and Tommy.

On the day of the betrayal, Eret and Wilbur make you stay back in the van, Eret hoping to shield you from what’s gonna go down. And Wilbur hoping to keep you away from the battle on the horizon.

You are there to patch up the wounds from everyone as they respawn.

Wilbur is now more determined to keep you sheltered.

However, this made you more determined to stand on the battlefield fighting for your country.

You are there in the middle of the explosions when they go off. Losing your first life. Fighting for freedom. Fighting for your pseudo father.

Wilbur holds you for hours afterwards.

As you cry into his shoulder.

Wilbur makes you stay back when Tommy is meant to dual Dream, leading to you being the first to see him when he respawns.

Ah, two of the four children traumatised by a war they didn’t ask for.

You are there when the declaration of independence gets signed.

Getting credited as the 2nd little champion.

And everything is good for a while.

Wilbur helps you through your nightmares whenever you wake up thinking there is TNT blowing you up. Or you remember the day everyone respawned. Or remember how hurt and wounded everyone was doing the battles.

You watch as your father drowns himself in government work to not process what happened himself.

You try your best to help him out, but there is only so much you can do.

Then the election gets called, and you are there supporting him, while also helping your big brother Fundy with his campaign.

Wilbur didn’t take lightly to both of his children running a campaign against him. But he lived with it and respected it.

Then Schlatt won.

And you watched as your father and Tommy was chased out of the city.

Fundy holding you back as you break down crying over the sight.

Fundy keeps you from joining Pogtopia, stating it is no place for a child, despite him working as a spy for them and Tommy living there.

So you stay put in the now Manberg.

You are there to pick up the pieces of your older brother falls apart after your father calls him a traitor and states he’s no son of his.

So you venture out through the big forest. Barely stumbling into Pogtopia as nightfall has come.

And you get to see with your own eyes as the man you regards as your father yells at Tommy, Wilbur looks deranged and nothing like the man who raised you.

He never spots you that day, but Tommy does as you head back out again. Through the night filled with horrors beyond your imagination, and you barely make it back to Manberg in one piece.

You aren’t there the day Schlatt gets murdered, having retreated into isolation after having your worldview shattered. A child of war, now a child of trauma.

But you are there, right in the centre cheering on Tubbo as he’s granted the title of L’Manbergs president.

Your own fathers’ actions taking your second life too. You die in the explosion.

From that day on your anxiety worsen, loud noises bringing you to your knees in panic attacks. It had been bad after the war, but now it was unbearably bad.

Fundy started talking with Eret about potential adoption, but he only ends up adopting you, stating Fundy is too old.

And that’s how you deal with your father’s death. Living with the traitor of his country.

And you keep living. Denouncing him as your father, returning to your title of the bewildered child of nowhere.

You keep living in spite. In spite of the man who took two of your lives and made you grow up in a war you never wanted to fight in. And there, while looking over the railing of L’Manberg, is where you spot him.

Ghostbur

You watch as a tinted floating version of your former father wanders around the mostly rebuild crater.

“…Dad?”

“Y/N! My child!”

You can’t believe your own eyes, it’s actually him, it’s actually the man who found you wandering the skirts of the nation you now reside nearby.

And you turn your back to him.

You walk home, to your place in the castle, outside the nation that has caused you so much hurt.

Fundy is the one to make you talk to Ghostbur the second time, telling you about what seems to be going on.

“Would you like some blue Y/n? You’re crying.”

You refuse, wiping your tears away because he doesn’t deserve that from you. He doesn’t deserve the tears he caused himself.

You never call him dad again after the day you spot him. Because your dad died a traitor of the country he made. Leaving you at 14 to deal with the damages he had done.

But now you are 16, with Eret in your back, and your big brother Fundy helping you in any way or form he can. This includes, even more, sheltering, keeping you as far away from the Tubbo administration as he can.

Because you are all children of war, and they never seem to make the right decisions.

His heart breaks every time you remind him that he isn’t your father anymore and that you aren’t his child.

You don’t ever really hang around Ghostbur.

The few times you do, he tells you of stories of you growing up, teaching you guitar, finding you walking around the walls of the country. And he introduces you to your Grandpa Philza. A calm and relatively collected man.

A murder.

Whom took your father away from you all to early.

You like Friend, the blue sheep is a nice distraction to have nearby whenever your deceased father tries to be near you.

You appreciate the effort he makes, wishing he would have made the same efforts when Schlatt helps you within the walls of Manberg.

So when Tommy gets exiled and Ghostbur goes along with him, you aren’t surprised.

It’s always Tommy. And you are alright with that. Both you and Fundy knew from the start, it was always Tommy over the two of you. And you’ve had years to come to terms with that.

You keep yourself neutral in the affairs of the SMP.

Although you do visit Tommy twice, trying to get Fundy with you, but your older brother has a small distaste for the exiled ex-vice president, although he claims to have nothings against the blonde.

You keep out of the city as Tommy gets imprisoned, but you are there to greet him when he gains his freedom. Ghostbur beside you. Offering Tommy blue, and empty promises it of everything being okay now.

So when Tommy tells you he’s gonna smuggle himself into the prison with the help of the ghost, you are there handing him the potions.

When he returns only baring Friend on her leash, you break down. You lost your father once more.

Revivebur

You get an eerily sense of déjà vu over seeing him, standing over the now L’Manberg doomsday crater.

And you speak the word you had sworn to never say to him again.

“Dad?”

And he looks back, taking in the sight of you, Tommy, Tubbo & Ranboo together.

And he smiles.

And you leave.

You don’t end up talking to him again until Tommy seeks you out asking for you to talk to him, and for Fundy to do the same. You don’t know why, but you do it.

So you and Fundy meet him.

“Ah! My children!”

Fundy frowns, and you for the first time stand up to him.

“I am not your child. I am not yours!”

“What?”

“You haven’t been around for a really long time, a lot of things have changed, and so have I.”

You are seething, and for once Fundy doesn’t hold you back, or shelters you. He stands beside you.

“We had to raise ourselves! We had to keep on living after you decided to go blow your precious nation.”

“But you turned out fine! You are all grown up now, and you still have two lives each.”

Fundy pulls you into him, realising Wilbur doesn’t know.

“Y/n is on their last life. You took their second one too. You blew them up yourself. We are done here we are leaving.”

Wilbur calls out to you and Fundy, but neither of you turn around. He might have taken you in, but in the end, the two of you only ever had each other.

Children of war, never get to be children after all.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #c!wilbur x reader #c!wilbur soot x reader #dadbur #fundy #fundy x reader #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot fanfic #ghostbur #revivebur #ghostbur headcanon #wilbur headcanon #revivebur x reader #gender neutral!reader #delias own writing

[clairecrive]

can u make a nikolai x reader based on the song mr perfectly fine by taylor swift?

Mr Perfectly fine

A/n: Ahh, thank to you friend, I've been jamming to this song every day lmao Hope I've done it justice x Also, I've left out some parts of the lyrics to make it better fit the story.

(if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist here)

for my other masterlists, you can find them on my navigation page

Word count: more than 7K (ikik it took a life of his own, what can I say)

Warnings: bit of fluff, angst (like a lot), character's death, spoiler if you haven't read Siege and Storm

Tagging: @jupiterandbutterflies (Thank you so much for your comment! I saw it and it made my day✨)

(I don't remember where I took this from so if you know pls lmk)

Most people knew of Nikolai Lanstov. He was a prince, the second born and the most charming. Most people knew him thanks to the countless rumours that went around at court: supposedly he was not of royal blood. "Sobachka" was what they called him.

No matter how though, everyone knew of the last Lanstov prince. But very little knew him.

Meeting him wasn't difficult. Since he had been of age, Nikolai had always been out of the Grand Palace and among people. He’d also volunteered to enlist in the first army, refusing any kind of special treatment and fought beside his brothers in arms in the infantry. That was part of the reason why everyone outside the court loved him so much.

Being Grisha meant that fighting in the Second Army was mandatory. Not that you minded. There was nothing you wanted more for your people than to finally be free. Also, that Shadow Fold needed to go and as the Darkling has always said, all efforts are necessary.

That’s how you met Nikolai the first time. Generally, the First and the Second Army were stationed in different parts of the campsite. Numerous quarrels between oprichniki and Grisha had rendered the separation necessary. However, you never liked crowds much and living in the Little Palace meant that you were always surrounded by people. So, every chance you had to draw away and be by yourself for a while, you took it. Also, being a Healer meant that you’d spent more time in your assigned tent taking care of soldiers than among them.

Word had gone around that everyone in need could come to you. Usually, you had been instructed by the Darkling that your powers were reserved for Grisha. However, what good was it to have the ability to cure people and only take care of a selected few that very rarely got seriously injured? Meanwhile, soldiers of the First Army often suffered from severe injuries, fatal gunshots or knife wounds. You could help them and possibly save their lives so why shouldn’t you?

That was why Nikolai found you one night. Sure at that point it was just another nameless soldier to you. He had never been in your tent before so you had never seen his face before. The boy whose arm he had draped on his shoulders though, was a usual visitor of yours.

“Oh, Petyr, what happened this time?” gesturing to his blond friend to lay him down on the table, you started gathering everything you needed. Not that you needed much but you had found out that Petyr was absolutely incapable of bearing having his bones or injuries in general repaired without having some kind of pain reliever before.

After a few tries, you came up with a herbal composition that dulled the pain but didn’t make him unconscious. Using kvas would mean that Petyr would be knocked out for a couple of hours. That would put him in trouble with his superiors.

“He’s a fool, that’s what happened.” The explanation came from his friend after he put him down gently. Despite his words, you could hear in his tone worry and guilt?

“If saving your life makes me a fool then go ahead and call me one,” Petyr huffed in pain.

“Who knew you were so brave, uh?” After quickly shredding the herbs you needed, you poured hot water on it and brought the cup to Petyr’s lips while helping him keep his head up.

“He’s the bravest of us all,”

“If I knew it took a bullet wound to make you hand out compliments so easily, I would have done it sooner.” Scoffed Petyr after sending you a thankful look.

“See? What did I tell you? A fool,” his friend said dramatically and you smiled amused at their playful banter.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with, shall we?” You said out loud to warn both Petyr and his friend. Letting them know what was about to happen was best, your experience taught you. Both for the person on the table that could brace themselves for what was about to happen and for the person with him that was filled with worry and cautiousness. Oprichniki didn’t trust Grisha that much.

After assessing the damage, you let out a relieved sigh as the bullet had gotten through and it had not hit any major artery. It had already got infected though, so you knew it would be a painful one to treat.

“So, did you receive any letters lately, Pety?” You ask, suggestively wiggling your eyebrows while your hands cover the wound. You had your eyes closed to better focus but you were sure that he had rolled his eyes.

“Only from my mum.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t write her back,” you said, opening your eye just in time to send him a glare.

“Ugh, not this again, y/n, please. Have mercy on me, I’m bleeding all over the table.” Petyr moaned making his friend snicker.

“You’re not bleeding all over the table and if you didn’t notice, I’m already taking care of you, am I not? That doesn’t excuse you for being an idiot, though.”

“Are you two in cahoots or something? It’s not fair. Wounded man over here.”

“Oh shut up.” Both you and his blond friend said at the same time. Petyr moaned once again and you sent a little amused smile to the blondie.

“Should I leave you with a cool battle scar? Maybe acting like a war hero will give you the balls to write to her.” You harmlessly threatened him but your hands were already reconnecting the tissue of his skin without letting it scar.

“I’ve told you, y/n. She deserves better than what I can give her. I am, who knows if I even make it home? I’d be only stringing her along.” Now Petyr was dead serious. It was true, you had talked about this often since he was a regular you got to know him better and he had soon told you about his sweet Katia.

While his friend chanted “fool” like a mantra in the background, you took his bloodied hand in yours, his wound fully healed.

“Petyr, how do you think she’s gonna react when she learns that there hasn’t been any delay to her letters but you’re just ignoring her? Besides, you should let her make this decision too. Who knows, she’ll surprise you.” Squeezing his hand you turned to let your words settle and to put away your utensils. You knew you had given him so much food for thought so you didn’t address the subject anymore. His friend helped him off the table and that’s when you noticed that he was injured too. He had a pretty nasty cut on his lower lip and there was already a bruise forming on his temple.

“Petyr, you can sit on my chair while I take care of your friend. You should be fine but for at least a while don’t stress your body.”

Mentally making a list of the things you need to tend to this kind of wound and where you kept them, you started collecting before heading back to them.

Petyr had sat down but his friend was still standing.

“You don’t have to lie down if you don’t want to, but unless you don’t want me to go take a ladder or something, it would be best if you sat on the table.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you mixed the healing paste. Sometimes, men didn’t like to put themselves in a vulnerable position with someone they didn’t know and had learned to fear. He wasn’t that badly hurt and it would only take a couple of seconds to fix but not every oprichniki was comfortable with being healed by Grisha power. So the paste would do your job for you. It would take longer, sure and it would also sting a lot more but at least he’d be healed at last.

After looking at you for a little while, the blond man did as you instructed, giving you a dazzling smile in return when you settled between his legs to fix his cut.

“The name is Nikolai or handsome if you prefer.” It was not the first time a wounded soldier tried to flirt with you. IT didn’t bother you, you found them amusing more than anything and you knew it was the allure of someone taking care of them speaking more than any real interest.

“Let’s hope you won’t be around here much for me to learn your name.”

“I’ll have to find another way to make myself unforgettable then.” He winked at you before hopping off the table.

You didn’t address his words, only gave them the paste you had prepared. It would prevent any wound from being infected and would be able to cure small cuts and bruises if applied for a couple of days. With that, you sent them both on their way. Petyr waving you goodbye while Nikolai sent you another wink.

And so this was how it all started.

Mr. "Perfect face"

Mr. "Here to stay"

Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

Everything was right

Despite your fellow Grisha, military life could be a bit alienating. Which sounded like a paradox, sure, but everyone had their own way of processing trauma and emotions and of course there were plenty of those during the war. If the best way to come to terms with everything that happened was to distance yourself from others and try to find the solution in solitude, it could get to the point where you’d feel alone in a room full of people.

To get a little respite, you’d usually go on a long walk or resort to stargaze. Sometimes, depending on where you were posted, it wasn’t safe to leave the campsite. So, that’s how Nikolai found you one night. Even he had to take a breather once in a while. Being a different version of yourself based on who you’re interlocutor was must be exhausting. Of course, you didn’t know this. You knew nothing about Nikolai at that point if not that he was Petyr’s friend and a socialite, according to other soldiers.

He seemed to be at the centre of gossip no matter what group of people you found yourself with and there also seemed to be a consensus about him. Everyone liked him. Even if it was rare for some Grisha to appreciate oprichniki, you knew they somewhat respected him because if they didn’t praise him out loud, they didn’t speak ill of him either.

“Not a fan of crowds, are you?” he announced his presence before sitting down beside you.

“I love them, I really do. It’s just that sometimes it gets too much.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.”

“You do? Everyone seems to think you’re a socialite.”

“It’s what I want them to think but alas, I enjoy being more complex and multifaceted than that.” He lightly bumped your shoulder with his, eyes aflame with mischief.

“I bet.” you simply smirked. Despite how everyone seemed to think they knew him, you got the peculiar vibe from him, like there was a lot more to him than what he let everyone see.

“No one seems to know much about you.”

“Maybe you’ve talked to the wrong people.”

“Well, then I guess it’s better if I got straight to the source, don’t you think?”

“That will surely be a better start. Not sure you’ll find what you’re looking for though.”

“We’ll see.”

That night had been the first of many. It had become a sort of an unspoken arrangement between the two of you. While it didn’t last long, you sensed that you got to know him better than everyone. There was something about late nights meetings under the stars that prompted deep and meaningful conversations. It wasn’t hard to form a solid bond with him after a few nights.

The conversations weren’t always personal in the conventional sense. You’d often stray and talk about the most bizarre things. Like why something had the name it had or how cool it’d be if it was possible to pass through surfaces, which led to imagine all the uncomfortable situations one could find themselves in if they were to simply go into a room through its wall.

Nikolai was witty, overly confident and ambitious and he knew a lot of things. You always wondered how he had learned them since he was so young and been in the army for a couple of years already. But Nikolai was never too forward on certain topics, his family and childhood being some of those. You understood, those were sore subjects for you too. So you never insisted. It was much more interesting to listen to him rumble about impossible future projects of his, like a flying ship.

"When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable." He’d say whenever you’d point it out to him. Somehow, despite the absolute absurdity of them, the sheer confidence that he seemed to constantly exude, made you consider the possibility of his success.

You got the distinct feeling that there was nothing this man couldn’t do.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart"

Mr. "Leaves me all alone," I fall apart

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

But, alas, as all things do, these encounters of yours also got to an end. You knew it would happen, you were both soldiers so your lives were both heavily characterised by uncertainty after all. However, you were not prepared for it to end so abruptly though. And without an apparent reason. Because Nikolai’s unit hadn’t been posted elsewhere and he hadn’t been fatally wounded. You would have heard of it were that the case. But it wasn’t.

You thought that he had come to cherish your nightly encounters too. Some of those had been full of his promises. How he’d love for you to be around when he’d eventually find the time to work on his ideas. How you had been a nice surprise, a most interesting person among so many dull idiots you were surrounded by every day. How he’d come to value your opinions and presence in his life and that he was going to find a way to make sure that that would never change. Promises that turned to be empty.

You had never allowed yourself to fully believe him. It wasn’t the first time that a boy had made the same kind of promises but Nikolai looked sincere. Honest enough to be believable. But, of course, you had been wrong.

You didn’t realise just how much you had come to rely on him until he was gone. You tried to keep your mind off him and luckily the perfect distraction came your way. The Darkling had scheduled an attack on the enemy’s army and had posted you to be on the field to take care of everyone promptly. You had never been more grateful to the man, even after he had given her a home and a purpose.

Ever since your first encounter with Nikolai, you had thought it had been a blessing. However, you had soon changed your mind and now considered a curse more than anything. Why? Because as soon as you got to the field you couldn’t help but scour the troops for a familiar mop of blond hair. Many looked like him and being this far you couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t one of them but you certainly despised the leap your heart made every time though. That was a distraction you couldn’t afford. Besides, it wasn’t smart to let your heart get involved in times of war.

The battle began, Inferni and Squallers were working together to impair the enemy’s visual so they couldn’t shoot or use their cannons while the First Army marched after them to swap in as soon as the air cleared to catch the enemy by surprise. While your role wasn’t active per se, you were a Corporalki after all, and even if you had been specifically trained as Healer, you had also got one of your friends to teach you the basics of an Heartrender’s work. You weren’t a powerful one but you could hold your ground in a fight. Especially since they weren’t expecting you. And you were still far from any real threat.

The battle dragged on and soon there were wounded soldiers that needed your attention. You hated this kind of work, it was messy and dirty and had to be quick because spending too much time on one soldier could mean dooming another to death. You were accustomed to it by now and soon found a rhythm focusing on ensuring everyone’s survival and not bothering with the aesthetic side of healing. That could be taken care of later if they wanted to.

As soon as your eyes fell onto a crouched figure you sprinted towards them. It was dirty and you didn’t recognize them but you got the feeling it was a life or death situation. Oh, how you wanted to be wrong.

The person crouching turned out to be Nikolai and he wasn’t alone. He was kneeling beside someone, Petyr.

“Where are you hurt?” you hurriedly asked as you tried to assess the damage. His uniform was dirty and full of blood but you couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Trying to answer you, Petyr opened his mouth only to let out the most gruesome gurgling sound as his respiratory tract was flooded by blood.

“He got shot in the gut.” Nikolai offered.

“Is the bullet still inside?” Opening his uniform jacket you tore a piece from his shirt to use it to put pressure on the wound.

“It’s too late,” Nikolai uttered.

“No.” You strongly refused as you removed the cloth and focused on the wound. His heart was straightening and he had already lost a lot of blood. If the bullet was still inside that it was going to be a problem, if it wasn’t then you still had a fighting chance.

“I removed it earlier.” So that was why he had lost so much blood. Nodding your head to show that you had heard him, you set out to stop the internal bleeding. Slowing his heartbeat so that it was pumping less blood and thus eased your endeavour. You were still in the middle of the field and while you were keeping up with the warfare but in the back of your mind, you registered the sounds of screaming and of gunshots getting closer. A bullet hit you in the shoulder propelling you forward over Petyr’s body. Grisha’s kefta were bulletproof so you weren’t worried for your incolumity but for the harsh movement you had made.

Leaning back, you heard Nikolai calling for you but your eyes were trained on Petyr. You tried to listen for his heartbeat but could only hear two instead of three. Nikolai, who had never left your side, immediately understood what had happened by the fall of your shoulders and the tensing of your hands.

He kept calling for you but the only thing you could focus on was that you had let your friend down. Now there will be one more family crying for a loss, another girl mourning a lost loved one. And it was all your fault. It was because of you that Petyr wouldn’t live to see another day, to write another letter or to fight another battle. It was on you.

The details of what happened next were a bit blurred. Someway you must have found your way back to the campsite. Whether you did on your own after tending to everyone else, you didn’t know. Your memories picked up after you woke up in your tent. Someone was calling your name, saying that the Darkling wanted to see you.

Mechanically you raised and made your way to the Darkling’s tent but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts were plagued by Petyr’s face, by that godforsaken sound he made when he tried to speak. The realisation that he was gone hit you like a wall of brick that would have made you stumble if you weren't’ sat in front of the Darkling’s desk. Whether he was speaking and stopped after seeing the forlorn look in your eyes or he hadn’t been speaking at all, you didn’t realize. You did hear him say that you were going to be posted somewhere. Under different circumstances you have said something, anything to not let him send you away. Your mind immediately went to Nikolai. You’d be leaving him behind along with the campsite.

However, you now realised that you had already lost him. Losing Petyr had been the last thing that had completely severed your bond. There was no turning back now and part of you was grateful.

Hello Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breaking mine?

I've been Miss "Misery" since your goodbye

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

You couldn’t know, of course, but Nikolai had left not long after you did. Albeit for a different reason. He had finally earned the Major rank and as such, he took a step back from military life deciding that his skill would be better suited for a life on the sea. Assuring Ravka the supply she needed but in ways that weren’t exactly suitable for a prince but worked just fine for a privateer. And thus Sturmhond came to life.

As for you, you kept doing your job at your new post but were relieved when a letter came from the Darkling instructing that you were needed at the Little Palace. Part of you had relegated Nikolai to that part of your mind where the unmentionable was, however, a traitor thought whispered that maybe there was a chance that you could see him at the royal grounds. Sure, the possibilities were close to zero but it was still possible, right?

No.

You already were ashamed of the fact that you’re still suffering because of him. And yes, you missed him but you weren’t going to indulge the pathetic hope of seeing him again.

He doesn’t want to see you. If he did, he would have already found you. Or write you a letter if he couldn’t, but he didn’t.

You were right. You knew you were, nonetheless, the thought only brought you a bittersweet feeling.

You found the Little Palace just how you’d left it and yet it seemed changed in a way. The insane amount of work you found there waiting for you helped you drown the feeling that it was you that had changed.

Months passed this way, sometimes the Darkling would post you with him or outside the Little Palace. All in all, you’ve kept busy. When news of the little prince leaving the Palace reached you, you let it wash over you. It wasn’t like it mattered much, whether he was a few feet away or in another nation, Nikolai wasn’t part of your life either way.

When the whole expansion of the Fold happened, you were stationed at the Little Palace. Chaos and terror ensued as soon as the news reached the capital making most of the Grisha flee. Most of them went looking for the Darkling while others simply ran away and hid. You were amongst the first group.

Soon, your life was radically changed. The shift in the Darkling was palpable and it didn’t have anything to do with the scars on his face. You had tried your best to heal them and Genya to tailor them away but somehow, they could not be removed. It was an unsettling thing to realize that they didn’t take away his beauty. One could even say that they enhanced his attractiveness.

He was certainly more powerful. None of you knew what had happened in the Fold that day, just that the Sun Summoner had fled and that there were no survivors apart from him. However, as your journey in pursuit of Alina dragged on, you were soon witnesses of his newfound power.

The nichevo’ya, he called them.

He had always been immensely powerful. One of a kind. But this- this was different. And as dread settled among your group as you watched them in action, realisation sat heavily on your shoulders.

He soon found a trail and traced Alina in Novyi Zem and set out to reach the island by hiring Sturmhond’s crew. He was a famous pirate after all and despite his unreliability, the Darkling was sure that as long as he got his money, he wouldn't be a problem.

In the round trip, you didn’t see much of the captain anyway. Some members of his crew were amiable enough, particularly the Yul-Baatar twins. You had even asked Tamar to spar with you from time to time. Your lessons with Botnik were a distant memory and you knew that mastering combat training skills could increase your chance at survival.

When Alina and Mal were held captive though, that’s when Sturmhond made an appearance. He looked younger than you’d thought and there was something oddly familiar in the way he held himself. Still, you didn't talk with him much. Your job was to take care of Alina and so you spent most of your time in her room.

It wasn’t until the Darkling asked Mal to track Rusalye and consequently spent more time with Alina that you had a chance to talk with him. It was during one of your night shifts when he approached you, the Darkling had wanted some of his to always be patrolling the ship.

“What could possibly make a little thing like you be amidst this wretched company?”

“It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.”

“The thrill of adventure?”

“There’s plenty of it everywhere you go if you’re Grisha, even if you just go on a stroll.”

“Is that why you follow him?”

“I owe everything to him.”

“I’m sure you realize your role in this.”

“Of course I do. I’m not some naive girl who has a crush on her general.”

“Ah, so who, pray tell, do you have a crush on then, beautiful lady?”

“You’re certainly noisy for a pirate.”

“Privateer,” he corrected you, “there’s not much to do around here is it?”

“Not if you have everyone taking care of it, no.”

“Amuse me.”

“It isn’t wise to let the heart get involved in times of war.” That was all you were willing to share. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, the twinkle in his eyes was oddly familiar but he was a stranger. A dangerous one.

“Those sound like words spoken from experience.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I’d say it’s no fun to only think about war. Life is so much more.”

“Believe me, if I could, it’d be the last thing on my mind. But, alas, l don’t have the privilege to do so.”

You had already lost too much time speaking with him. If someone were to see you or tell the Darkling you’d be in trouble. And you had made it your goal to never put yourself on the path of the Darkling’s anger. So you excused yourself and went back to your rounds.

If only you had stayed and talked to him more maybe you would have understood what was about to happen. Maybe you would have had an enkindling of Sturmhond’s plans. Instead, you were taken by surprise, just like everyone in your group, when Rusalye was spot and a shot was fired. You had found yourself in the uncomfortable position of having to fight against people you had grown to like.

“I don’t want to hurt you, y/n,” Tamar warned you as you stood face to face on the sinking ship dock. Her trusted axes in her hands while your hands were raised ready to attack.

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Then you don’t have to. Come with us.” Her proposition made you gasp.

“That would be treason,” you whispered hoping that the Darkling wasn’t around to hear you. A shiver ran through you as you thought of the punishment he’d give you for even thinking about leaving his side.

“Then you leave me no choice.” She said lowering her arms. Was that guilt you heard in her voice?

Before you could voice your question though, she shouted for her brother and not even a second later, you felt your body grow still. Your eyebrows faltered as you felt your heartbeat slow down.

They were Grisha.

They must have seen you realise because you heard Tamar apologize before everything went black.

Mr. "Never told me why"

He goes about his day

Forgets he ever even heard my name

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

You didn’t stay out for long though. As soon as Sturmhond’s crew had left the Darkling’s ship and had safely made it onto the Volkvolny, the privateer had asked for you to be awakened.

There wasn’t enough light for you to realize you were on another ship, what alerted you of your new situation were your hands. They had bound them behind your back. Immediately you started to struggle, hoping to wiggle out of the restraints. To no avail though. Huffing out in frustration, you settled for looking around you and see if there was something you could use. That’s when you noticed him.

“Release me- this instant, or else-”

“Or what? You’re a Healer. Not exactly a violent job, is it?” Sturmhond interrupted you, a smirk on his face since he had the upper hand.

“I don’t need my powers to kick you in the ass, do I?” He laughed but didn’t look remotely threatened. Rather amused, actually.

“Please, you have to let me go. He’ll kill me if-” Panic started to build as you realized that there was no way you could successfully escape.

“He won’t touch you.” A solemn glow took over his eyes. “He won’t ever hurt you again, you have my word.” He promised, looking subtly at your left shoulder. You winced as you realized that he must have seen your scars. The ones left by the Darkling’s niche’voya.

“How can I know if you’re trustworthy? You don’t exactly have a good score, you know?”

“You’re going to find out soon enough. Don’t worry.”

Of course, he didn’t bother offering further explanations. He’d left it at that. You weren’t a captive per se but he left your hands bound, only freeing them when you needed to eat or relieve yourself.

Fruitless were your efforts in making you tell more. He often ate with you and would check in at least twice a day but that was it.

It wasn’t until after you had landed after that forsaken vehicle of his had gotten you through the Fold that you understood. His coming out as Nikolai Lanstov, prince and second in line for the Ravkan throne, had shaken you all to your core. However, you doubted that it had sent a pang to the others’ hearts as it did with yours.

Nikolai Lantsov. The man you had been dreaming about, the one that had left you behind without any sort of explanations, the one you missed so dearly, had been by your side all this time.

You weren’t sure how you felt. It made sense now why his eyes looked familiar and his posture. You then connected that the vehicle you had used in the Fold had been one of the many projects he used to geek about with you. It tasted a lot like betrayal. Not because he had lied to you about his name but because he had tried to get close to you again and had managed to somehow break that growing bond again.

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her

So dignified in your well-pressed suit

So strategized, all the eyes on you

Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"

So far above me in every sense

So far above feeling anything

Even if his secret had been outed thus causing some shift in the dynamics between Nikolai and the two new members of his crew - you suspected Mal was closer to punching him every second that passed- not much had changed for you.

On the outside, you pretty much looked like a prisoner. Albeit a very clean one. You rode with them, hands still bound, scowl ever-present on your face.

Nikolai had not come to see you ever since that night after the Fold. And now it had been almost a week since you had started your journey back to the capital. Whether this was all part of his plan to make you look the part of the captive even more or he was just gutless, you didn't know. It was working either way though.

You liked to think that his reason was simply that he didn't care. He had far too much on his plate right now as it was. Going back to court after years of absence while also making claims to the throne and trying to sway the Sun Summoner your way. It was no easy feat. But hadn't he always liked to say that impossible often meant improbable? A lot of things had changed since that night but even so, you'd still pose your bet on him that he'd be able to achieve anything he set his mind to.

It wasn't exactly that thinking this way brought you actual comfort. Of course, not. But it was better than foolishly hoping for him to still care about you the way you did for him. After all, he had sent plenty of signals that pointed in the other direction.

But then why did he kidnap you? Why take you with him? You weren't that close to the Darkling to be of any use to Nikolai in that way. And, as a matter of fact, no one had come to interrogate you regarding his plans or whereabouts. Then why?

You still couldn't figure it out.

Some days your anger shifted more to frustration and you were ounces away from asking for him yourself. Almost as if he had heard you though, he gave you the final push.

It was the usual day, Nikolai and Alina were riding in the carriage, stopping in every village we passed to meet with the locals. However, this time, before climbing back into the carriage, they kissed.

You were too far to figure out who started it and the details. The gist of it was enough though.

You most certainly were a fool. Still thinking about a guy who didn't give two shits about you, who had kidnapped you putting you in a dangerous situation and you were still wondering whether he felt something for you or not? Pathetic.

You had to do something about your situation and quickly too. Officially, you were a traitor. You had fled and joined the Darkling, that wouldn't make you look good in front of the king. He was a lousy bastard anyway and will probably sentence you to death to set an example. You hadn't survived so much shit to end up at the end of a rope.

So, even though you had initially thought against it since you were so close to home, you decided to escape. You were already headed towards certain death so what was the worst that could happen?

Your hands were left unbound when you were in your tent. One less problem to solve. Closing your eyes, you focused on listening for any nearby heartbeats. You heard two, those of the guards posted outside your tent. Maybe you could find an excuse to call them inside, put them to sleep and then slip away.

That was not exactly what your powers were for but you were desperate. You had to at least try.

And so you did. You called them in and immediately set out to slow their heartbeats. You had almost succeeded in putting them under when someone else slipped in. The last person you wanted to see.

"Am I that bad of a host?"

You didn't meet his ruse though, you knew it would make you lose focus.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you to release my soldiers." As soon as he said it though, they fell unconscious at last. Your chest was heaving by now, using so much power in such a different way was costing you. But you couldn't back down now. It was one on one and you were Grisha and a woman scorned. He stood no chance.

"Move out of my way, your highness."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"You can or I can make you. Your choice." The venom in your voice was unmistakable and it took him by surprise. He gave you a curious look tilting his head to the side like he was seeing you for the first time over again.

"I didn't realize ruthlessness was one of your personality traits."

"You know nothing about me," you seethed. The tip of your fingers flexed, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and you were already weary.

"It may have been a while y/n, but I like to think I know a good deal about you."

"And I would like to completely erase this last year but you don't hear me yap about how shitty it has been, do you?"

"You never did like opening up much."

"I'm well past the point of sentimentalism, Nikolai. It is coming far too late anyway. And whatever my feelings for you may be, I won't let you put my life on the line." Your posture straightened, stance ready for battle.

His eyes flashed, jaw clenched. His hands closed in fists and he almost looked hurt. But why would he?

"Is that what you think all of this is?" Nikolai always acted aloof. He was always composed and dignified. You had thought it was for his insane amount of self-confidence but now you understood it was for how he was raised. But you recognised the pout on his lips. It was the expression he’d always have whenever he tried to get something from getting to him. To prevent himself from showing emotions.

"You're holding me captive while you go around Ravka parading your latest conquest, flashing your return everywhere. I don't know why you're doing this but I don't care. I've stopped waiting around for you and I certainly won't let your father put me to death."

"You think I'd let him?"

"So you want to do this?" you threw your hands up in exasperation, "Fine. You really want to know what I think?"

"Be my guest."

"I think that the Nikolai I knew would have left out of the blue without so much as a letter. I think that the Nikolai I knew was ready to go to any length to achieve what he believed in. However, I thought that the Nikolai I knew cared about me and what we had but look at me now. So maybe, I know nothing at all."

"You certainly do seem to know a lot of things. But you’re not wrong."

"If this is the way you care about me," I gesture to my tent, "then I'm not sure I want this Nikolai to care for me."

“This,” he said, emulating your gesture, “is to keep you safe. This is my way to ensure that if the Darkling got news of your whereabouts, he’d be sure not to think you willingly left his side and betrayed him.”

“That’s because I didn’t!” You raised your voice in outrage. The nerve of this man.

“Spare me your indignation. I know you hate being at his beck and call, to do his dirty work and be constantly surrounded by warfare.”

“Do not presume to speak for me.” You snapped. You knew it was best to keep a cool head but his cockiness was getting on your nerves.

“Didn’t you? Hate it, I mean.”

“We’re at war, Nikolai. Being away or close to the Darkling won’t change that. At least with him, I was safe.”

“You can’t be that delusional to think that he was protecting you.” He scoffed at your words as if they were the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

“And you can’t be that delusional to think that bringing me back won’t result in your father killing me.” You fired back shifting on your feet. He winced as if you had physically hurt him.

“You have so little faith in me?” His voice was just above a whisper and you knew that your words had struck a chord.

“How can I have any, Nikolai?” your voice softened a bit. “One day you’re telling me how much you value my opinion, you promise me a future where I’d be the first to see your project come to life and then you left. You just left, Nikolai.” And when I was starting to make my peace with it that’s when you come back? Also, let’s not forget about my abduction and your flirting with Alina.”

“So yes, I don’t trust you.” You concluded, crossing your arms on your chest with finality. He just stared at you for the longest time. If someone would come in now, they’d think you were in the middle of a staring contest. Then he sighed and started talking.

“I had to go away. I had already pushed my parents’ limits when I said I wanted to be part of the infantry. So, one day I got a letter written by my father personally and I knew that my time was up. I had been Nikolai for too long, now I had to start being a Lantsov prince.” His eyes were on the ground now, shame making her way in his words.

“So that’s what I did,” he went as he started pacing,”I went to Kerch to study, just like my father wanted. I did what he asked, he couldn’t reproach me anything now. I could never stay too still though, a life of adventure was calling me and I could not ignore it. It was only then that I realized that I could do so much more than sitting in a class, to realistically help Ravka.”

“I couldn’t take you with me. You had such a larger role to play in the army and besides, there wasn’t much I could offer you. So yes, I left. I left thinking that I would find my way back to you eventually.” He had stopped by now, regret was swirling in his shining orbs as he looked at you.

“You could have told me.” You contestated, taken back by all the information he gave you. “I would have waited for you.” A whispered promise for something that would never be now.

“I was afraid, y/n. That’s not my best moment, I know and no number of apologies could ever make it right. But I was afraid of your answer. I knew I’d be asking for a lot and let’s be honest-” the desperation in his tone was evident now, he had unconsciously started to lean towards you but you knew what he was about to say.

“You weren’t sure if the future you were offering me would just end up with me being your mistress, am I right?” Your tone hardened but despite the insulting implication of what you said, you weren’t made at him.

“I’m a prince, y/n. We do not marry for love and this country cannot afford to disregard the advantages that a political union could bring.”

His honesty was as refreshing as it was unsettling. He was right. As soon as you had learned he was a prince, you realized just what kind of future you could have with him. But then he left and that problem did not exist anymore. Neither of you spoke, both of you were seizing the other. You had laid it all out, defences were down putting you both in a vulnerable position.

And someday maybe you'll miss me

“You should have talked to me, Nikolai. We could have figured it out together. If it came to being your mistress to stay with you, then that was my decision to make.” You said softly after a while. It pained for you to say this, you would have never thought that getting closure would hurt this much.

Tears streamed on both of your faces, in front of you had been laid what your future could have looked like. It was everything you had wanted, you could still do your job and have the man of your dreams. You were surprised to find that you wouldn’t mind sharing him with his supposed wife. You had been at court for enough time to know how most marriages went. If he assured you it was only a diplomatic affair but that his heart was yours, that would have been enough. Who knows, maybe she’ll get a lover too.

But now… now you didn’t know if you could ignore everything that happened. You did not trust him nor could you ignore how hurt you were by his lack of communication and thus of trust in you.

But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lanstov one shot #nikolai lanstov fic #nikolai lanstov x you #nikolai lanstov x y/n #shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lanstov angst #nikolai lanstov fluff #nikolai lanstov blurb

[acourtofsnakes]

A Helping Hand - Bucky Barnes x Reader (f)

(Gif: @sebastianruinedme​ )

Summary: After a stressful week, you try to wind down with some personal time but nothing quite hits that spot. And a certain Super Soldier may just be more than willing to help you. 

Warnings: 18+ Smut - Masturbation/toys, Oral (f receiving), fingering, neck play, arm/hand kink, dirty talk, a faint Dom theme if you squint, swearing – honestly, Bucky should just be a kink in himself.

Word count: 5k+ words full of hot playtime. 

A/N: This is just filth, to be honest. I was feeling a certain way after watching episode 3 of TFATWS and seeing that scene with Bucky cleaning his hand and… ideas happened, and this was born. There’s not really a plot… simply enjoy. 

Smut under the cut!!

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal​

Part 2

There was something to be said about the advancement of toys in recent years. 

There were hundreds of them. All different types. For all different things. 

Rabbits, waterproof vibrators, pulsating and pounding ones, ones that felt like oral, handsfree vibrators, remote control vibrators – the list went on. 

You had a lot. Tucked in a drawer of your dresser in a pretty box that just made you go all tingly in the knees every time you saw it. 

You were proud of your collection. 

And boy, did you love them. 

They never let you down, ever. 

But unfortunately, tonight was just not one of those nights. 

It has been a tough week. 

Not only had you taken a beating in training yesterday, but you were also late for an appointment across the city, which resulted in being yelled at by Fury. 

You really regretted decided to help him when he needed it. 

There wasn’t a lot going on lately, so you offered to help Fury when he needed it. 

Usually, you were on his food side. 

Yesterday, not so much. 

Everything seemed out to get you, and after the shit show of the week, you just wanted to treat yourself. So, you’d holed yourself up in your room on your floor of the compound, had a long, luxurious soak in the bath, and then decided to work out your anxiety and tension with one of your many, many friends. 

And for the first time in a while, they just weren’t hitting that spot. 

Literally. 

You groaned, throwing the third toy - this one a rabbit that was one of your most trusty companions - on the side of your bed. 

For the last forty minutes, you’d been dancing between three different toys and your fingers. 

You’d tried being on your belly, your side, and your back. You’d even tried a pillow. 

But nothing was the right pressure on your clit, no toy or finger felt deep enough inside, and you couldn’t hit that spot inside without getting a wicked cramp in your wrist that forced you to stop. 

You sat up, every nerve in your body wound to a knife edge, leaving you frustrated and tempted to throttle someone. 

Or get someone to throttle you. 

Preferably whilst pinning you to a wall... or a desk. 

Or anywhere really. 

You just needed something, anything to get out this frustration and give you the release you’d been desperately chasing all night. 

It wasn’t even a case of hovering on the edge - you couldn’t even get there. The fire and heat just stayed a kindling ember in your belly, and never reaching that explosive fire. 

After getting up and downing a measure of whiskey whilst watching the rain, you decided to try a last-ditch attempt with a different toy. 

This one was a curved vibrator, with a thicker rounder head for supposedly perfect pressure on your g-spot. 

Simple, straight forward. 

Surely, if none of the others had done it, this one finally would. 

After settling back on your bed, you took a little more care this time, even going as far to light a few candles to add an ambiance to the room rather than have it pitch black with the sounds of the rain. 

You worked yourself up this time, building it slowly, teasing yourself with brushes of your fingertips over your throat and breasts, setting your skin ablaze. 

You pushed yourself to the edge a little, and then worked over with your vibrator. 

Until ten minutes later, when you literally launched the vibrator across the room and it hit the wall with a resounding thud, that echoed your hiss of frustration.  “Fucking hell.”  

A shit week, a shit day, and you couldn’t even fuck yourself well enough to be able to wind down and get some sleep. 

There was a sudden knock and then Bucky’s voice echoed through your bedroom door. “Darlin’?” There was a slight hint of his Brooklyn accent peeping through at the end, stirring something within you. 

You startled, sitting bolt upright and your head snapped to the door, “Bucky?” You had the good sense to lock the door, but still. He was right there. 

His shadow moved beneath the door, and you realised he was leaning against it, “Is everything alright? I heard banging.” 

Well, no not really. I’ve been trying to get myself off for the last hour and nothing appears to be working and I’m sitting here naked whilst you’re the other side of my door calling me Darling in that ridiculously hot accent that shouldn’t even be that hot. But hey, apart from that, everything’s great. 

You slid off the bed, padding across the room after dropping your toys back in their drawer, glaring at it as you passed. You slipped a robe on before making your way across the fluffy rug to the door, “Yeah, I’m okay...” You unlocked the door, tugging it open. 

Bucky was leaning against the doorframe, all broad shoulders, long lines and soft smile. 

His searing blue eyes were instantly locked onto you, a smirk playing on those gorgeous lips.

He cocked his head, standing there with his arms crossed, and you noticed that for once, he wasn’t wearing any gloves. Just a simple long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans that hung sinfully close to his hips and... no boots. Just socks. 

Like he’d taken his shoes off before waking into your apartment. 

Ever the gentleman. 

His arm was bare, the soft light of the hall bouncing off of the black vibranium and sparking the gold. You’d always loved his arm. The sheer power of it, the way you’d seen it shatter a man’s ribs instantly and tear through a brick wall like it was made of glass. The same hand that tickled behind the ears of a stray kitten in Prospect Park and test the ripeness of plums at the market. 

You wanted that hand around your throat. 

Eyes the colour of the Arctic sea roamed over your body, from your slightly mussed up hair to the flush along your neck that disappeared in the dip of your dressing gown. “Mm... are you sure about that?” He tilted his coyly, a smirk playing on his lips and you had a feeling this expression had been one of the trademarks since the 40’s. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, more than aware that he was seeing far more than you wanted him to, “I’m fine.” You turned from the door, leaving it open for him to come in, “How comes you’re up on my floor, anyway?” You peered over your shoulder at him as you padded across the room to the drinks cart. 

Yes, there was a bar on your floor, but why couldn’t you have a cart in your room? Tony hadn’t even needed to ask when designing it. 

Bucky walked in, his footfalls silent like a cat, that training never quite leaving him, “I couldn’t sleep. No nightmares, just restless.” He added the last part quickly, in response to the concern that tightened your expression. 

It was nothing unusual, Bucky coming up here to your room.  

You often found each other after nightmares or rough days, seeking comfort and distraction from the darkness that lingered. 

Some days and nights, you went out, needing an outside diversion from the thoughts. 

Other times, you stayed in, watching films, talking, training or just... sitting quietly, knowing that the other persons presence was enough protection and reassurance. Words weren’t needed… just company.  

You handed him a drink, plopping down on the end of your bed and you watched him sink into the couch opposite, “Anything you wanna talk about?” 

Since everything with the War, Bucky was working on fitting back into a routine, into ‘normal’ life - or what could be considered normal for people like yourselves. 

He was undergoing his mandatory therapy sessions, and they seemed to be helping him. 

He was back in contact with Sam, and the pair even worked a few jobs together now and then, even if they did bicker like an old married couple - it provided great entertainment when you tagged along. 

He leant back on the couch, settling his left arm across the back. He always looked at home on your floor, relaxed, like his mind could shut off a little. “Nah, I’m okay... Thank you though.” He shot you an easy smile again, one that he probably hadn’t used in.... decades. “What about you? Why are you up so late?”

Mimicking his shrug, you kept your expression neutral, making sure your eyes didn’t drift to that certain drawer, “Rough week. I was reading to try and drift off.” 

“Mmmhm...” Bucky’s hummed response told you instantly that he did not believe you one bit. “What were you reading? Cosmopolitan’s best guide to toys?” That shit eating grin graced his face and he motioned gracefully with his left hand... to the corner of the room. 

The vibrator you’d launched was sitting on the floor, nestled in the rug, the soft mint green silicone practically a beacon. 

Okay. 

Okay…. So. There were two ways you could respond to this. 

Either play it off, deny it and change the subject. 

Or…

Turning back to him, you shrugged again, “Oh, I’ve read that back to front. And made a few additions myself.” You cocked your head, a faint flutter in your belly as you awaited his response. 

The barest flicker of surprise danced across his beautiful, rugged features before dissolving into something confident and smouldering. “Well, it looks to me like their guide isn’t true to review tonight. Something tells me you’re having a little bit of trouble.” His voice had begun to lower into a deeper, the natural roughness of his voice coming out. 

It stoked that fire within you, warming your blood and curling low in your belly. 

“And if I was? What would you suggest to help?” It was almost impossible to remain sitting still as the atmosphere folded and changed. There was one obvious route to your back and forth… and you wanted it. 

Wanted… him.

And if you were honest, you had for a long time now. There was just something about him that you’d always been drawn to, a simmering tension that settled whenever you were together. 

Bucky rose from the sofa in a fluid movement, walking toward you slowly, casually, but with the grace and prowl of a wolf eyeing up its next meal – you. 

And fuck, you wanted him to devour you. 

He slid his hands into his pockets, feet silent on your wooden floor, “Well… I would say that as wonderful as your toys may be… they’re just that. Toys. They can’t… feel what you like.” His eyes burned through you with each of his steps. “They don’t hear the noises you make when they hit the right spot. They don’t get to see the way your body reacts, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip because it feels overwhelmingly good.” 

He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, and that only added to the growing wetness between your thighs as his filthy, beautiful words. 

Bucky stopped in front of you, removing his left hand and touching his fingers to your chin to tilt it up to face him, “They can’t know the little things… the deeper angle, that extra finger or sweep of the tongue… they can’t make you so wet that it runs down your thighs and they can’t make you arch off the bed as you shatter into starlight…” He sighed softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “I’m afraid they just… can’t make you come the way a real person could.” He applied a little pressure to the underside of your chin, and you rose to your – unsteady -  feet instantly, putty in his hands.  

Holy fuck, Bucky Barnes had a mouth on him. 

Your teeth had indeed sunk into your lower lip, and your breathing had grown shallow. It was an effort to keep your thighs firmly locked together… Because you were just as wet as he had said. 

The dark flame in his eyes told you that he knew the reaction you were having to him. He brushed a cool thumb over your lip, then tugged it gently to free it from your teeth and at the same time, he leant his head down to your level, “They can’t make you come like I can, darlin’.” This close, his warm lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice reduced to a husky rasp that only further drew out that Brooklyn accent. 

The soft moan that left your lips was almost pitiful, but you didn’t care, “Shit.” 

You breathed the word, earning a deep chuckle in your ear before Bucky pulled back, only enough to see your face, “You want me to help you? Give you a helping hand?” His words were low and seductive, but he was looking between your eyes, making no more moves until he knew you wanted this. 

If you changed your mind, he would leave right now, and say no more about it. 

That very thought pained you. 

Something had always hovered between you both… and maybe now was the time to let it out. You shared a few kisses on nights out and he had featured heavily in your fantasies night after night, wishing your fingers were his, the toys were him….

You met his eyes, your own clear and sure and you kept that gaze as you parted your lips. Then swept your tongue along his thumb and tilted your head down just enough to take it between your lips. The vibranium was smooth, cold and it felt oddly delightful on your tongue. “Make me come, Bucky. Prove to me you’re better than the toys.” Your voice was low with need, a soft pleading note for him there as you gazed up through your eyelashes. 

The Arctic blue of his eyes deepened to near midnight, his pupils blowing out as he watched you talk around his thumb, your tongue sweeping over the metal and he almost purred, “Oh, baby, you won’t need toys when I’m done.” And then he was on you. 

He gently pulled his hand from your face, instead placing it lightly around your neck, the heavy metal settling on your collarbones and that alone drenched you. 

He looked between your eyes, checking one final time and then his mouth was lowering onto yours, his lips warm, plush and ever so inviting. Instantly, he licked a teasing line along your lips, which you would have parted for him without the request. 

Bucky’s tongue slipped past your lips, sweeping against yours in hot strokes as he explored every corner of your mouth. 

He tasted divine, and even more so when his thumb lightly tipped your chin back and he traced the tip of his tongue along the roof of your mouth, licking over the ridges and showing you exactly what that tongue could do. 

A groan left your lips, and you slid your hands up his arms to those shoulders, those gorgeous broad shoulders that all you wanted to do was dig your nails into them and use for support as you rode him. 

A deep curl of delight and joy was unfurling within the heat in your belly, because you needed this, needed more of him and his hands and his tongue and his words… and you were finally getting it

Hell, he had only just started kissing you and you already could have fallen apart just from that. 

“Why have we not been doing this all the time?” Was the only thought that your already fuzzy mind could come up with as he pulled away slowly from your lips, only to begin pressing hot, open kisses against your jaw that were all teeth and tongue. He seared a path to your neck, kissing all over until he found that particular spot that made you whimper and arch into his body. 

Bucky laughed low against your neck, the sound vibrating, “Oh, baby, you were struggling, weren’t you? I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already a mess…” He used his hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, before biting at your skin, sweeping his tongue over the hot and sucking a deep mark there. 

A slight whine rippled in your throat, fingers pulling as his shirt and your chest pushed against his, the firm heat of him making your nipples tighten, especially when he pushed into you. 

Bucky slipped a hand between your bodies, tugging at the cord of your dressing gown and it slipped from your shoulders, leaving you bare and open to him. 

He licked down your neck, his tongue smoothing over the shape of your collarbones and then down your sternum to your breasts. He butterfly kissed the soft flesh, then almost delicately sucked at your rleft nipple, lifting his vibranium hand to squeeze the other, “So beautiful…” He mumbled it half to himself, his dark mussed up curls soft against your skin. 

One of your hands trailed up the back of his neck, slightly tangling in the hair at the base of his head and you pushed your chest further into his mouth, “Tease.” The word was a soft gasp, your eyes closing in pleasure and your lips parting. 

He chuckled, pulling back to blow a cool breath on the wet skin, watching your nipple harden and then he moved to give the other the same treatment, “Oh, I’m a tease, am I? I can stop if you like.” He grinned around the delicate skin, just slightly grazing his teeth as he tugged your nipple and then he continued his trail of kisses down your body, slowly sinking to his knees. “I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop though, darlin’.” His right hand grasped your ankle, and then he ghosted warm fingertips up your leg, past your knee and then pausing at your inner thigh, at what he felt there, “No. No I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop at all.” 

The cocky bastard grinned once more against your stomach, before dipping his tongue inside your belly button.

“Bucky…” You couldn’t hide the whimper in your voice, nor the way your hips rocked forward in a plea. It was almost painful how much you needed him to touch you, needed to feel his lips and his tongue. 

“Shhh, baby, I know.” His hands slipped up your waist, as soothing as his gentle coo against your belly button and then he brushed his lips lower and lower… and then finally, he pressed a soft butterfly kiss to your pubic bone. 

A low groan tore from his throat, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he saw you, swollen and positively dripping for him, “Oh, darlin’, look at you…” 

The sheer desire and awe in his low voice caused heat to flush along your cheekbones. You weren’t shy by any means, but the almost primal admiration in his voice was something you’d never heard before, the pure want and desire to make you feel good and worship you. 

Bucky admired the sight before him for a single moment, before lifting his eyes to yours and then he dove in, immediately devouring you like he was starving. His deft tongue slipped through your slick folds with ease, and he moaned again at your taste, at your smell, everything. 

He pressed his tongue flat against you before sucking at your clit, with such an intensity that you almost choked. It was a simple movement, but it shot electricity through your body and made every single nerve stand on end. 

He let that coil of energy begin to build, and then he licked back down, his hands sliding down to palm at your ass cheeks before digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you in further so he could bury his nose against your clit and his tongue – fuck, his tongue pushed inside of you, hot and heavy. It just felt so, so good, his nose putting pressure on your bundle of nerves, his tongue pumping inside you. 

Your hands flew down to his hair, winding through it to keep him there, keep him doing that, to keep him fucking you with his tongue, “Buck-”. You weren’t sure what you were begging him for, only that you just needed to say his name, needed to do something. 

Your hips began to rock in time with his thrusts, and you became aware of it only when Bucky’s muffled moan reverberating through you. 

He liked it, no... he loved this, that you were grinding against his face as his tongue worked inside you, tasting parts of you no one else had ever gotten right before. 

“Fuck, Bucky, keep doing that – I’m-” You cut off with a high moan, your head tilting back as you rocked into him faster, chasing down that high that was so tantalisingly close. It hadn’t taken long, you were so worked up from your failed attempts that you were already there. 

Bucky’s began to lick and suck you with new fervour, his head moving in time with the jerks of his hips, feeling the way your walls were tightening around his tongue. His fingers dug harder into your ass, and you felt the silent command almost, Come. 

And you did. 

You cried his name out to the sky, every nerve in your body winding to near painful tautness before you shattered on his face, your first orgasm ripping through you. 

Bucky didn’t stop, working you through it and drawing it out further and further as he lapped up every single drop you gave him, moaning himself like it was the most tantalising thing he had ever tasted. 

He stopped only when your grip released on his hair, the sensitivity of your nerves almost painful, your legs shaking like crazy and he lifted his hand from between your thighs, his lips and chin glistening. He rose from his knees, nudging you back onto the bed and instantly crawling up your body, “You have no idea how good you taste.” 

You whimpered slightly, catching your breath as you watched him crawl up you, eyes burning like sapphire fire, his tongue licking slowly over his lips as he savoured you. Words were beyond you, desire still coursing through your veins and you were a little in awe at how quickly – and hard – he had brought you to your first orgasm. 

Bucky grinned devilishly, “That won’t be your last.” He lowered his mouth back to yours and as you tasted yourself on him, you grew instantly wet for him again. 

His body brushed into yours and you felt how painfully hard he was through his jeans, the sounds and taste of you getting to him of course. 

Your fingers had barely brushed against his restrained length when he shook his head, nipping at your lower lip, “Oh no, baby, this is all about you.” 

You ignored him, palming him through his jeans and he moaned lowly before his eyes flashed, his hand suddenly back on your throat and he moved his hips away so you couldn’t get to him. “I said no.” It was almost a snarl, “This is about you. Not me.” His hand tightened just slightly around your throat, making it that little bit harder to breathe and your eyes rolled back at how delicious it felt. 

It was a huge kink for you, the idea of someone – of Bucky - taking control, being in control of your body even it was just for a little while. You didn’t need to think or do anything. Only feel and be at the mercy of his touch. 

You relented, legs falling open for him and you tilted your head back, searching for his lips. 

Bucky granted you the kiss, a slow, languid kiss at first that was all simmering passion and tangling tongues, the taste on you still lingering on his lips. 

He palmed your breast again, tugging and squeezing the flesh until he scratched his nails lightly down your ribcage and belly. 

Yes, yes-

He wasted no time, no more playing and his fingers slipped lower, circling over your clit with a delicious pressure that had you instantly moaning into his mouth.

He toyed with your clit a little more, before gathering your wetness and then sinking two fingers inside you, pushing all the way into his knuckles, then drawing back out slowly. 

As he withdrew, you moaned long and slow into his mouth and he began a steady rhythm. Pushing and curling his fingers inside you a few steps, then circling and pulling at your clit, ever so subtly switching it up with each pass so you couldn’t predict what he would do.  

It felt amazing, but… there was something still missing. It still wasn’t quite enough to send you over that final edge… it wasn’t what you’d been fantasising about. 

No, it was his left hand. That dark, golden vibranium hand that was currently seated around your throat. 

The knowledge of what it could do, the sheer power in it that could easily crush your windpipe or shatter your jaw with a single flick of his wrist. 

That is what you needed. 

Those cool, powerful fingers inside you, working you over – that was the best toy. 

It was like he could read your mind somehow, or the way your body sung to his tune. He lifted his head, looking down at you with those searing blues and he cocked his head, a slow grin lighting his gorgeous face, “Oh… This-” he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching your walls and ever so slightly brushing up against that spot, “isn’t quite what you want, is it, darlin’?” 

Holy Christ, he was going to destroy you before you even got what you wanted.

You looked up at him, panting, hips rocking to the slower thrust of his fingers and you shook your head.

Bucky swore softly, panting himself and he squeezed your throat once before lifting his fingers, “You want these, don’t you?”

Instead of answering him, you ducked your head, taking his three fingers into your mouth and immediately gliding your tongue around them, up and down in slow, dirty strokes. 

The effect was instantaneous. Bucky’s hips jerked slightly against yours, his mouth parting as he watched you suck his vibranium fingers, hollowing your cheeks, eyes rolling back in your head like… like it was something else entirely. 

He groaned, swore again and then almost ripped his fingers from your mouth and from between your legs at the same time. 

Your entire body mourned the loss, feeling empty, clenching around nothing but mere seconds later, he plunged those three vibranium fingers inside of you, slick with your saliva and how unbelievably wet you were. 

It stung a little, but only added to the feeling as your hips rose off the bed, “Shit, shit-”

They felt… like the best toy you could ever imagine. Smooth, cold, and hard enough that you could feel every faint ridge of the joints as he slid them in and out. You reached out, grabbing his arm with one hand and the bed with the other, needing something to hold onto as instinct took over. Your hips rode upwards, back arching as you rocked his fingers in deeper, feeling them in your spine almost. It was better than you could have imagined. 

Bucky dropped his head to your chest, spreading his mouth over your breast and his other arm slid over your hips, pinning them to the bed so you were forced to take it. “You wanted this, baby… You take it.” He bit down on the soft flesh of your breast before smoothing his tongue over it again, working an alternative rhythm to his fingers and thumb again, so that your brain couldn’t keep up with which one to follow. It knew only the waves of fire singing through your veins.  

Time may have very well dissolved, because you could only feel pleasure, tinged almost with pain. 

The thick, hard stroking of fingers as they stretched and wrecked you. 

The circling, hard-soft-hard pressure of his thumb on your clit. 

The bite of his teeth on your breasts, neck and chest, followed by the wet press of his tongue. 

The way he couldn’t help his hips slightly rocking against your leg. 

This was almost like a fever dream, expect your brain couldn’t have come up with something this mind melting. Not even if you were really, really worked up. 

The noises in the room were absolutely sinful. The unrestrained cries and moans from your lips, Bucky’s groans and his filthy words, the wet pump of his fingers inside you – it was obscene, filthy and completely, painfully mind-blowing. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Bucky, please-” You had no idea what you were begging for, but every single nerve and muscle in your body was coiling tighter and tighter, your hips jerking against his arm as he pinned you down, forcing you to take this, to feel everything he was doing with no relenting. Tears were beginning to blur your eyes and the pleasure he unleashed upon you was almost painful. 

Bucky somehow moved his fingers harder, deeper, the ability of the tech in his arm allowing him to do so, “Let go, baby, come on, let it go for me..” He dropped his head, biting down on your neck and he pressed his fingers against that spot inside you, flicking your clit with his thumb and then it all just snapped. 

Waves and waves of hot fire flooded your body, dragging you up to the stars, further. It ripped the air from your lungs, made you half scream his name in a never-ending prayer. 

It just didn’t stop. 

Bucky kept moving inside you, drawing out every single second of your mind-shattering orgasm, letting go of your hips so you could grind them into his hand. “That’s it, baby… Look at you, so beautiful like that…” His praise spurred you on, making you feel almost like a goddess as you flooded his hand. 

He stopped only when you slumped back onto the bed, sucking in deep breaths as you tried to piece yourself back together. 

Better than toys indeed. 

~~

A little while later, you stirred from a light dose to see Bucky lounging on your couch again, cleaning the grooves and metal of his fingers with a soft cloth. 

The sight of him concentrating, taking such care and detail with the clean-up, the cleanup from the mess you had made, had you instantly wet again. “Bucky.” 

He looked up, hearing the low thrum to your voice and a smirk crossed his lips. 

You had a favour to repay for his helping hand, after all. 

#well #that happened #i am not sorry #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #arm kink

[mommymooze]

Can You See What is Growing Before Your Eyes?

seteth & Flayn, Reader & Flayn, Seteth X Reader

Sitting on the fishing dock as the sunset blazes across the skies, it is quiet and peaceful in the monastery. You can almost imagine there is not a war going on, that the Imperial army isn’t marching towards your location to attack you and your friends who have arrived for the Millennium festival. Your thoughts are peaceful as you observe the rose and orange colored skies reflected in the pond Your bobber floats motionless on the calm waters.

“Are the fish biting?” Flayn calls from the far side of the water.

Just as she speaks your bobber begins to twitch. You hold up a finger with one hand as you grasp your pole more firmly in the other. Watching, waiting, suddenly the red and white float goes under, you jerk the line, hooking the fish. It is a short battle, the bullhead gives up quickly.

“It’s about average.” You answer as you look over your basket. “I have 15 fish, so after a few more I will bring them to the kitchens.”

“How are you able to catch such an abundant amount? My brother and I would be here for half a day or more and still not catch that quantity.” Flayn chides, her hands on her hips.

“If I had any fishing secrets, I would not hesitate to share them with you and Seteth.” You smile.

“Perhaps I shall watch you and learn of your mysterious technique.” Flayn decides, sitting on an empty crate nearby.

Retrieving and rebaiting your hook, you toss it back into the water, causing ripples to spread across the pond. You sit, still as a statue. Out of the corner of your eye you watch Flayn switch the position of her legs, then look around, fix her hair, and otherwise appear bored. You have not moved, except to shoo a bug from getting close to your eye. Even that movement was performed slowly and silently.

The bobber twitches in the water, moves left, stops briefly and heads right. It becomes halfway submerged, only to pop back up again immediately. You do not move. It begins moving away from your position. Just as it submerges you yank the line and are fighting the hooked fish. The fish jumps, trying to get away, however you keep steady with your pull on the line, hauling it closer to the dock.

“A golden fish!” Flayn excitedly laughs.

Hauling your catch close to the dock, you grab the fish by its jaw, remove the hook and secure it in your bucket.

“That one will pay for the accompaniments to an excellent fish stew!” You announce, beginning to pack up your fishing equipment.

“I did not see anything special about your technique. You used a worm and I saw no special powder or magic cast upon it. Strange.” Flayne ponders.

“First, you must learn to be one with the water. If it is still, you must be still. If it moves, you can move. The fish will be disturbed by your wiggling, especially on the dock.” You share your wisdom with the lovely young lady.

“I will have to tell my brother of this discovery, and that we will be having a fine fish stew this evening. Thank you!”

Selling your fish in the market, you take the rest to the kitchens. The cooks are thrilled to be able to provide a hearty and protein filled meal to the masses, there will be enough to go around. More and more people are arriving at the monastery to assist with the war efforts.

After returning your belongings to your quarters you head to the Cathedral to give prayers of thanks. Thanks for the food today, for so many willing to help defend the church, for the return of so many students and for the return of Professor Byleth. Now that they are back, hopefully they can lead the church and Blue Lions to victory. Your mind falters at that, observing the wounded and broken man that Dimitri has become. You watch as the Professor approaches him, trying to speak to him, trying to get him to eat. The conversation is one sided. Dimitri says nothing. Your eyes go wide as he leaps at the Professor and throws them against a stone column, then returns to his place at the crumbled goddess statue.

Without thinking you run to Byleth’s side. You are well within Dimitri’s range, but your focus is Byleth. Their head is bleeding, and they are moaning. Quickly you heal the head wound. It is not deep, however there is a lot of blood. You struggle to drag them further from Dimitri to a safer part of the Cathedral.

“Professor, can you hear me? Please?” You whisper to them, your voice shaking. They’ve just returned from being gone for five years, it would be horrible to lose them again so soon.

The professor shakes their head. “I am okay. He caught me off guard.” They answer as you help them to their feet.

“Can I take you to the infirmary? Do you have pain elsewhere?” You anxiously ask as they lean on you slightly while you hold their arm, walking to the pews.

“I am alright.” They nod. “My head was hit. I may have a bruise or two, nothing that will not be fine by tomorrow.”

“If you are sure. There is no need to suffer with pain if we can help.” You smile.

Professor Byleth heads back to the bridge leaving the Cathedral, refusing your offer to accompany them. You remain, offering further prayers for Byleth’s health and healing for Dimitri.

You return to the infirmary, your home away from home. Manuela is no longer here, she sided with the Empire. Being thrust into the position of one of the main healers, you remain out of battle, dealing with the injured soldiers. Before the war you worked your shifts in the infirmary, Manuela handled the serious cases.

When the war started, everyone fled the monastery. You packed more books on healing and treatments than you did clothes. Seteth encouraged you to lead the healers for the Knights of Seiros. Every place you travel, you consult with other healers in the area, trying to increase your knowledge as well as theirs. You hope you are adequately filling the shoes he sets forth.

At the infirmary desk you pull out the file for Byleth and make a note regarding todays treatment. When the Knights of Seiros returned to the monastery, you were happy to find many of the medical notes still here. Thieves must not have a use for them. All potions, salves, bandages, and lotions were gone. You have been working with several other clerics building up your inventory.

A sudden knocking brings your attention to the door of the infirmary.

“Greetings. I see you have no patients today, I hope everything is well.“ Seteth bows.

You look up at the handsome man in the doorway. “Good afternoon, Seteth. Byleth was injured by Dimitri earlier. If you see them, make certain they are not hiding any injuries I was unable to find.”

Seteth nods, “I understand your concerns. There are many that take care and have themselves treated properly. Then there are others, I understand your concerns.” He smiles, “Flayn said you were fishing earlier.”

“Yes. I am not a hunter, however I do want to do my part to keep the food stores filled. An army marches on its stomach.” You answer as you file papers in the cabinet.

“Flayn advises you are considerably successful at fishing. Perhaps I can join you and observe your techniques.” Seteth smiles, it makes him even more handsome.

“I am no master fisherman. Flayn simply is not patient, she can’t hold still.” You laugh. “I have seen you fishing with Alois. You would be more successful if he was not there, he is rather boisterous.”

“True. I suppose I like to fish because it is relaxing. These are stressful times. I do hope you are taking care of yourself too.” Seteth answers, a bit of authority creeping back into his voice.

“Noted, sir.” You nod, then begin to unpack dressings and filling the cabinets.

“I am asking you to take care of yourself as a friend. We have worked together for these many years. I’ve seen you exhaust yourself taking care of the knights.”

“War is not conducive to sleep. I will sleep when the war is over.” You chuckle. “Besides, when I finally do leave to find rest, I notice there is still candlelight coming through the windows of your office. Perhaps you should lead by example, my friend.”

“Touche!” He chortles. “I will put in further effort.” Seteth nods, returning to his office.

You treat minor cuts and bruises the remainder of the afternoon. Flayn stops by and asks you to join her for dinner. After all, you were the one that provided the ingredients for this evening’s meal. You promise to meet her after restocking the supplies.

In the dining hall you take your bowl of fish soup and look for Flayn. She is sitting next to her brother and waving for you to join them. You take a seat opposite them. She is easily excited.

“I am so happy that you are able to join us.” Flayn smiles.

“It is important to keep your body healthy and nourished.” You nod and smile softly at Seteth. You are happy to see him in the dining hall. He has had too many meals in his office, overworking himself.

“Yes. An army runs on its stomach, and it is important for everyone to eat properly, especially those that support the army.” Seteth tells Flayn, encouraging her to eat.

“Does that mean I can have seconds, brother?” She asks, sucking in her cheeks a bit to appear more undernourished.

“Only after everyone else has had a portion.” He waves his spoon around the room at the other diners.

Flayn pouts.

Observing her sad face, you have an idea. “If you would like, we can fish tomorrow early in the morning and hopefully catch more for a fine fish dinner.” You pat her hand that is resting on the table.

Flayn’s face now wears a huge smile. “Really? I am excited! You can teach me more fishing techniques. Oh brother! Maybe you can join us?” Both of you look at him, a hopeful smile on your faces.

Seteth’s brow furrows. “I will have to check my schedule. I will see if I can make the time.”

The next morning you get up at dawn to head to the woods, digging up earthworms and grubs for bait. The ground is still moist from the rains and the worms are close to the surface. You have plenty for everyone, including Byleth, who you share bait with frequently. They buy bait from the merchants when they are out, and every coin is needed for the war.

The day is slightly windy, causing the water to dance on the pond. The sunlight sparkles on the surface as the sun rises higher in the sky. Flayn joins you. Instructing her on proper baiting of the hook you remind her to sit as still as possible. You sit far enough apart to softly talk, yet not interfere with each other’s quest for fish.

Flayn has been listening attentively, her basket of fish is proof of her improvement. She brings a fish to you that has swallowed the hook and you show her how to use a tool you’ve made that will help loosen it. Instructing how to slide her hand down the fish so she will not be pricked by the fins, then use the tool to release the hook. Suddenly a shadow is blocking the sunlight over your shoulder.

“Good morning, brother. We are having a marvelous time fishing!” Flayne giggles.

“I can see that. You both have a surprisingly large catch. Perhaps there are many secrets you can pass along to us.” He smiles at you. That is a very handsome look on his face.

“I would be happy to help.” You smile as Flayn puts her fish in her basket and baits her hook for the next catch. “I have a nice collection of worms today, help yourself.” You point to the can.

“Hmm.” Seteth frowns. “Would you mind giving me pointers on how to set the bait? My wife usually baited the hooks. I can manage with some things, but worms are tricky.”

“I understand. My father would set my bait when I was little. I was afraid of the wiggly bugs and worms. Though he is gone, I will pass along his techniques. It is a good way of remembering him.” You take a worm and quietly show him how to set the worm on the hook, leaving the end close to the barb of the hook to wiggle.

“I always make sure the barb is just through the end there, touching it but not piercing your finger. There. You’re ready to go.” You smile as you let loose the hook and it dangles and spins in the air.

“Appreciated.” Seteth smiles. The relaxed look on his face is a sight to behold.

You cast your line into the water and wait. Flayn is to your right trying very hard to be still. Seteth is to your left, taking a seat on a crate after casting his line in the water. Flayn’s bobber starts to wiggle. You hear her stifle a noise, trying to remain quiet. Suddenly her bobber goes under, she pulls her pole back.

“I have one. Oh, it feels heavy!” Flayn excitedly giggles as she works to haul the fish to land.

You lean to the edge of the pond, grabbing the fish as soon as she has it out of the water. “That certainly is a large fish. I think that fills your basket this morning!” You laugh.

She puts her fish away and gives you a huge hug. “You have taught me so well. I’m going to take these to the kitchen right away. I feel like a successful fisherwoman!” she grins.

“You are an excellent student. What an amazing haul!” You laugh, watching her struggle with her heavy container of fish.

Seteth now gasps as he hooks a fish. You grab the fish by the side of the mouth when he gets it to shore.

“Oh my, it’s swallowed your hook. That’s the fourth time today. They must be really hungry to gobble them down so quickly.” You mutter, heading to your tackle box to grab your tool to remove the hook.

“You can retrieve the hook? I usually have to cut the line and tie on a new one.” Seteth is happily surprised.

You call him closer as you follow the line into the fish’s mouth. You hand him the tool and instruct him as he uses it to free the hook. He stands much closer to you than he normally does. He smells like myrrh, cinnamon, and ginger.

“That was certainly educational today.” Seteth smiles. “Thank you for your instruction.”

“Any time.” You smile softly. “The company was very enjoyable.”

A week later Seteth invites you for tea in his office. Checking the calendar, you note that next week everyone will leave for battle, so he must want to review final plans. You arrive at his door at the exact appointed time, holding several folders of paperwork that he may find useful to allay his concerns.

Seteth invites you inside and gestures to the table by the windows that is set for tea.

His desk is piled high with folders, stacks of letters to be sealed, parchment and inkwells randomly scattered amongst his work. Mounds of opened letters fill the box on one corner of the desk while multiple completed replies occupy a box on the other side.

“Is that paperwork for me?” He appears to be surprised at the bundle in your hands.

“I thought you may want to discuss the inventories and preparations being made for our upcoming march.” You respond shyly. The last thing you want to do is provide more work for him.

Seteth takes the folders from you and places them on a nearby table. “Actually, I have the greatest trust in you and would only speak to you about it if you need my guidance. Please, take a seat and join me for tea.” He gestures to the table and chairs by the window.

Taking your seat, you pull the cloth napkin to your lap. You feel a bit nervous. He has only asked you to his office to discuss matters of the church or war. This is your first purely social visit.

Seteth pours the tea, handing you tongs to take a sweet treat from the basket.

“Apologies, I do not know your favorite tea. I hope you do not mind Four Spice Blend.” He smiles softly as he takes his seat, making certain his chair is at a proper gentlemanly distance from you.

“I drink Four Spice in the cooler weather, the flavor seems to warm me from within.” You return the smile. This must be the excitement the students feel when Professor Byleth invites them to tea.

“I am glad you enjoy it.” Seteth hums. “I have been having conversations with Felix lately about the importance of friends in our lives. I then realized that I have been negligent myself in not taking time to visit with my friends.”

“I am delighted to call you my friend, of course. We have worked together for these many years, but we have not made proper time to simply chat.”

“I am making an effort to correct that mistake, starting today.” Seteth nods and takes a sip of tea. “Do tell me about yourself, what books you like to read, what are your hobbies?”

You chat back and forth until the tea has grown exceedingly cold, exchanging tidbits of knowledge into who each of you are as a person. You speak of the books you’ve read recently and share impressions you have on your allies.

“This has been simply fascinating. A fantastic break from work. I feel very refreshed,” Seteth smiles. “I have learned quite a bit about you and your many talents.”

“I feel the same! I have learned so much about you as well. Thank you for inviting me to a very lovely tea.” You stand and reach for your paperwork.

“Perhaps we can make it a weekly occurrence, to make certain we have the time to check on each other,” He offers.

“Fantastic. I would enjoy it immensely.” You are beaming with happiness as you head out the door. Your heart skips a beat as you head down the hallway. You don’t mind that there are a few patients impatiently waiting inside the infirmary.

It is a few weeks before you can have another quiet tea together. Travel and battle do not allow for much time to socialize. Your hands are full setting up the infirmary tents, organizing the clerics, making certain the army has well stocked bandages and potions for the fighters.

Flayn is going to be on the field for the battle and you worry over her as she finishes attaching the last pieces of her armor. She comes to speak with you frequently, discussing a few adult matters that she is not confident with confiding in her brother.

“Watch out for arrows, if you are hurt, fly straight to the infirmary. Your brother would never forgive me if I cannot get you back into perfect health as soon as possible.” You kiss her on the forehead and send her off to her wyvern. You have become quite close friends and say a silent prayer for her safety. She reminds you of your younger siblings that you raised when your mother passed away.

Now you are standing at the edge of camp, watching what little you can see of the battle. Seteth and Flayn are flying close together on their wyverns, protecting each other. You send a quick prayer for their safety as you head back into the infirmary tent, injured fighters are already arriving.

Wrapping a bandage to a soldiers arm you’ve completed stitching and healing, you hear a wyvern’s roar outside the tent. Running to the front of the tent, Flayn is guiding her brother’s wyvern to the ground next to hers. Seteth is nearly unconscious as you hurry to lift him from the saddle. You have no idea where your strength comes from as you carry him into the infirmary and place him on an examination table. You’ve carried unconscious soldiers before, but Seteth is very solidly built.

Flayn dashes in behind you, filling you in on what happened. “He was hit by a lightning bolt. His wyvern was hit as well, but it dealt with the hit better than he did. I think it was because of the arrows he had taken prior that had weakened him.”

“Help me get his robes off.” You quickly instruct her.

She helps remove his robes and armor as you strip him to his undershirt and trousers. His pants are ruined by two arrows, you cut them off just above the arrow in his thigh and around the other in his calf. Neither of the projectiles are close to arteries, however the one in his thigh is very deep into the muscle. It seems to take forever to remove the arrowhead from leg. You had to cut tissue and pull his flesh out of the way. Finally, you work faith magic deep into the torn tissues, encouraging the flesh to bind back together.

Flayn works on his shoulder where the burns from the lightning strike entered his body. Luckily it traveled down his arm and exited close to his hand. You heal what you can of the burns for now, they will need further attention later.

Two strong soldiers help lift Seteth onto a stretcher, moving him to his tent. Gently you guide him on to his bed with Flayn’s assistance and she stays to watch over him. Before you leave, you examine her for any injuries, healing even the smaller cuts, knowing her brother would not be pleased to waken and see she was not treated.

Returning to the infirmary you triage the incoming soldiers. The new casualties begin to dwindle and those that are well enough leave for dinner. You make certain those that can eat do so. You then proceed to check on Seteth.

Standing at the entrance on the tent you announce yourself. Flayn beckons you to come in. Flayn is sitting in a chair, knitting a sock as she quietly sits by his side.

“I am so happy that you taught me how to knit. It is keeping my hands and mind busy so I do not hover over him so much. He has been sleeping peacefully since he was brought here.” Flayn updates you.

Leaning over the cot that Seteth is silently sleeping on, you check his vitals then his wounds to make certain he has not bled through the bandages. You’ve noticed his and Flayn’s heartrate are not the same as others. There are a few things you have seen over the years that sets them apart from the others. You keep these things to yourself, honoring their privacy.

Looking over at Flayn you smile reassuringly. “Would you like to go visit with your friends a bit? Promise me you will stay right in the middle of camp. No going off anywhere or your brother will have my head. I’m sure you want to check on them as well. When the sound the night bell, be back here very quickly. “

She gasps with excitement, “Yes! Thank you so much.” She hurriedly packs away her knitting and runs from the tent.

Remaining by Seteth’s side, you heal the electrical burns to his shoulder and hand. Exhausted, you doze lightly in the chair with a blanket over your legs and your hand resting on his chest. If he makes the slightest movement your eyes are wide open and you observe him for any discomfort.

Flayn returns a few hours later, tired and happy that she could visit with everyone. She kisses Seteth on the head and tells you good night just as he wakens.

Opening his eyes, his first sight is her. “Flayn!” He gasps. “You are alright.” His eyes close and he visibly relaxes for a moment.

“She is fine. A few minor scratches. Absolutely nothing compared to your injuries.” You pat your hand on his chest.

Seteth moves, attempting to sit up. He shifts his legs then grimaces with pain. With you pushing him back into his cot, he finally settles back into a prone position.

“You were hit by two arrows and then lightning. How you managed to keep perched on your wyvern is a miracle. Flayn brought you back. The battle is long over, you need to rest.” You answer his questions before he can ask them.

“I am happy to see you are recovering. Good night, brother.” Flayn calls as she heads out into the night air to her tent.

“Please tell me if you have any pain. I will help you sit up to have something to drink after I heal you further. I can get you anything you need, food, water, just name it.”

“I feel extremely fatigued, like every muscle in my body has been worked to exhaustion,” he quietly answers. “I only felt pain when I tried to move my leg. You have done a wonderful job, thank you.”

“You are a good patient. Let me change the bandages on your leg and then sit you up to have a drink. You should sleep and let the healing take full hold.” Taking your basket of fresh bandages and healing salves you move to the other side of his cot and begin unwrapping his wounds. Cleansing and applying further deep healing to his leg, you wrap it with fresh, clean dressings.

Taking a waterskin in hand, you help him sit up enough to drink nearly two cups of water. You take a handkerchief to dab his lips.

“There was a significant amount of blood loss. Drinking plenty of fluids will help you replenish them. I’ll make sure you eat a high amount of protein tomorrow for breakfast.”

“Thank you,” Seteth whispers as he lies back and closes his eyes. You pat his chest and he takes your hand in his. You are relieved that he is too tired to notice a slight blush on your cheeks.

Seteth awakens in the morning to the smell of bacon and eggs. You carefully help him to sit up.

“Flayn is in the infirmary tent, helping with those she can.” You begin. “They are tearing down camp and we will be headed back to the monastery soon. Do you need me to help you get a change of clothes? You will need new pants, I had to cut the others to get to your injuries. I can send someone to assist you if you prefer.”

“Let me see if I can stand, perhaps I can manage on my own.” Seteth slowly sits himself up and swings his legs off the cot. You reach outside the tent, then turn around and hand him a training lance.

“This should help you keep steady on your feet for now.“ You say while hovering over him as he takes a few cautious steps to the chair next to the table. Once he is seated you make certain he has fresh water to go with his food.

Back at the monastery you currently have four patients in the infirmary. Riding in the back of a wagon did not help their conditions much and it takes considerable time to heal and stabilize them until you feel that they are settled and without pain.

Flayn appears in front of your desk as you document the charts. “Are you finished with the patients?” She asks sweetly.

“For now. I will have someone monitoring them throughout the night and wake me if their conditions worsen.” You answer as you finish making an entry.

“Good!” Flayn takes you by the arm and pulls you down the hallway to Seteth’s office. Pulling you inside, you see the table set for three. The smell of the delicious dinner is heavenly, you’ve not eaten for many hours. Seteth is already seated at the table

“Please excuse me for not standing.” Seteth blushes slightly

You laugh. “I would be angry if you did. You’re keeping the leg propped up. Excellent.” You see that his color is good, he is healing well. You give a huge sigh of relief.

Flayn guides you to the seat next to him and she sits across from her brother. While the meal progresses, Flayn tells her point of view of the battle and how the Professor led them all to victory.

“This is quite a happy surprise. An excellent dinner and amazing company. I could not ask for more. Thank you both for having me.” You look greatly pleased.

“It is the least we could do to thank you for your excellent care,” Seteth assures. “You have been working nonstop since the battle. When you are finished, Flayn will escort you to your room and you will sleep. The healers here have been under your watchful eye and will take good care of the wounded. We need you to take time to care for yourself.”

“Yes. I will sleep and you should as well. I’m sending Flayn back to check on you. If she finds you working at the desk, I’ll run up here and bring a stick with me to chase you out.” You laugh.

Seteth chuckles. “I do not wish to incur your wrath. I promise to head straight for bed after dinner.”

“Should I change your bandages while I am here?” You ask.

“I did not invite you here to work. Flayn will aid me.” He nods to her.

Flayn suddenly interrupts. “I really should get the dishes back to the kitchens, you know how they can be. Perhaps it would be best that she escorts you to your room and check you this evening. This will probably take me a few trips.” Flayn says as she hurriedly stacks the plates, cups, and cutlery together and heads out the door.

“Do you have salves and bandages in your room? Should I pop by the infirmary for some?” You inquire.

“You had best get them. I know Flayn has some in her room, however I am not certain that I have any myself. I will meet you at the stairs, we can go up together.” He answers as he reaches for a cane to keep himself steady.

You observe Seteth as you follow him up the stairs, he is being especially careful and favoring his leg. He unlocks the door to his room on the third floor. You try not to let the curiosity get the best of you. Briefly glancing about, his quarters are pristine. Comfortable and heavy furniture come into view as he lights a candelabra.

“Would you prefer to change your bandages on the couch or your bed.” You ask.

“The bed I suppose,” he sighs as he leads you to his bedroom.

“Do you have a spare towel in the bathroom? I want to make certain nothing gets onto your bedclothes.”

“Of course, there is a basket by the door.” He gestures to the open door.

Retrieving a towel, you return to his side. Seteth is seated on his bed, his back propped by his pillows. His pants are removed from the wounded leg, the other covered by his blanket.

Raising his leg, you carefully place the towel underneath. You observe his grimace out of the corner of your eye.

“Which wound hurts more, the one in your calf or the one in your thigh?”

“The thigh. That one was quite deep,” Seteth answers, slightly gritting his teeth.

Unwrapping both injuries they appear to be healing well, the scarring is pink, not red at the edges, no signs of infection or bleeding. You slightly lift his lower leg, asking him to move his foot different directions. Turning your attention to the healing injury on his thigh you begin pouring faith magic into the muscles, knitting the torn tissue further together bit by bit. Massaging the muscles around the wound you flex his knee. The healing is progressing quite well.

Briefly you glance to his face, his eyes are closed, he appears relaxed. You are blushing again. His muscles are perfect, his thighs well-toned. Taking a deep breath, you pull your brain back into your professional mindset.

“Any other pain? Any lingering tingling from the lightning in your arm?” You softly ask. “You have walked on that leg too much today. Limping around on a cane will cause pain in your hand and arm as well as throwing off your gait and leading to lower back pain. I’ve done what I can today. I would like to treat your thigh injury one more time tomorrow.” You turn away to gather the soiled bandages and cool the steamy thoughts in your head.

“You are worrying too much. I will be fine.” Seteth answers. He sounds sleepy, which is relieving. You make certain he has a glass of water on his nightstand before you leave.

You make your way back downstairs. Flayn is taking the last of the dishes back to the kitchens. You wish her a good night and tell her to fetch you if you are needed. Once she is out of sight you head to the infirmary to check on the patients. The night cleric is relieved to see you, a soldier woke up and fell trying to get out of bed, undoing quite a bit of the work everyone had put into him. A few hours later you leave the heavily sedated patient, hoping they will retain the use of their arm.

The next day you find yourself being scolded by Flayn when she finds your bowl of oatmeal is still half full on your desk and it is already lunchtime. You are too busy working on the soldier’s reinjured shoulder to eat.

“Stop this at once!” Flayn stamps her foot for good measure. I am hereby relieving you of your duty and sentencing you to complete bedrest until tomorrow.

You turn around to argue with her, however two knights are gently taking you by the arms and leading you from the infirmary to your room. As you close your door behind you, you can hear Flayn giving them orders to stand guard and not let you leave until tomorrow morning.

Your head is pounding as you reach for a glass of water. Being told to take your own medicine is quite the bitter pill to swallow. It is reassuring that the soldier should be fine and rest is the best thing for you now.

The next day Flayn apologizes for her mutiny. Instead of being angry with her, you give her a huge hug and thank her for her bravery. You invite her to bake cookies together later, perhaps some ginger snaps, since her brother may like the flavor.

Meeting Flayn in the kitchens she confesses, “Everyone says I am a bad cook. Before the war I cooked a dish so bad only Dimitri and Raphael would eat it.” She pouts.

“It is not that you are bad at cooking. You simply do not understand the why and because of it all.” You explain as you gather and measure the ingredients for the cookies.

“Butter for example.” You begin, “We’re not using it in this recipe, but many times softened butter is an ingredient in cookies. You can’t use cold butter, it won’t mix well with the sugar. If you melt the butter, it will mix with the sugar, however the consistency will be wrong. If you melt the butter too long, it will brown the butter, giving it a completely different taste. Leaving the butter in a slightly warm place for about 30 minutes should soften the butter enough to mix with the sugar and make a fluffy creamy mixture, perfect for many baked goods.”

“So cooking requires the ingredients to be in the correct state as well as quantity.” Flayn nods in understanding.

“Exactly! And you cannot always substitute items in a recipe. If you want to use a plum instead of a peach, that will not cause problems. However, if you use baking soda instead of baking powder, that may make your cookies or cake refuse to rise.”

“But they both are for baking and making it rise.” Flayn frowns.

“Would you substitute mandrake root for arrow root in a potion?” You ask.

“Goodness no! One has healing properties, the other is a poison!” Flayn shudders.

“Both are roots, both are powdered and about the same color. Always use the correct ingredient.” You nod encouragingly. “It is like brewing potions. The right ingredients in the right quantity will make someone sleep peacefully. Too much and they will be in a coma.”

“I am beginning to understand your instruction. One cannot substitute ingredients willy-nilly. You must have knowledge as to how they work together to understand the effects of changing the composition of the baked item.” Flayn smiles widely.

“Once you get the basics, with experience you will be able to change things in the recipe. Let’s go by the recipe today and experiment another time. So did you measure one cup of sugar or one cup of salt here?” You place the bowl in front of her.

“Um. I am uncertain.” Flayn blushes.

“Taste it.” You push the bowl closer to her.

Flayn takes a pinch between her fingers and puts it on her tongue. “Ew! That would have been horrible!” she gasps as she heads to the larder to obtain a cup of sugar, abandoning the cup of salt on the counter.

Later in the afternoon you join Seteth in his office for Angelica tea. You surprise him with a box of the ginger cookies baked earlier.

“Ginger cookies! I have not had one in quite some time.” Seteth eagerly grasps a couple with the tongs, putting them on his plate.

“Flayn made them this morning.” You smile.

Seteth’s smile falls from his face as his eyebrows furrow slightly. He looks back to see that his door is indeed closed. “You do know what her cooking is like, don’t you?” He whispers.

You laugh. “Really Seteth, I was with her the entire time. We had a very productive cooking session. You may be surprised. Go on, take a bite.”

Seteth brings the cookie to his lips as if he has been requested to bite the head off a viper. He stares down at the cookie for a second and sniffs it. It does not smell as if it is burnt. It smells of ginger and sweetness, which is unusual for a cookie baked by Flayn.

Finally, he opens his mouth and takes a bite, silently praying that his teeth do not break off by doing this. Instead, his teeth sink into the slightly soft, slightly chewy, perfectly baked cookie. The ginger mixed with the molasses and other spices meld together in his mouth in the most delightful and rewarding flavors. His eyes open wide as his lips pull into the sweetest smile.

“You are absolutely certain that Flayn made these? They are delicious!” Seteth gasps.

You nod. You are so proud of her right now. You wish she could see the look on Seteth’s face right now. It’s precious.

“I must thank her later. You are a miracle worker.” He reaches forward and takes your hand in his.

Your face feels as if it is on fire as it heats up with a blush. Taking your teacup you try to hide behind it as you watch Seteth reach for another cookie.

The infirmary tent is outside of Fort Merceus. You can hear the battle raging on the fortress above the wall. You’ve just finished treating the wounds of an armored Knight, closing the lance wound to his shoulder. Suddenly things are quiet. You then hear a strange whistling noise followed by an explosion. Rocks rain down from the skies, causing the large tent to collapse around you. Pain overwhelms you as the world suddenly becomes dark.

You jolt into consciousness. Sitting upright you grab your head as it throbs fiercely between your hands. Your fingers feel wet, they are covered with blood.

“Brother! She is awake!” you hear Flayn’s voice next to you. Bleary eyed you look over to her, it is difficult to focus through the pain.

Seteth kneels at the side of the cot, wrapping his arms gently around you. “I thought that we might lose you.”

You manage to reach your right arm toward, your left arm refuses to cooperate. Taking a few deep breaths, you calm yourself. Your head pounds mercilessly.

“What happened?” Your voice trembling, remembering the last things you saw.

“The Fortress is gone. It is nothing but rubble. Pillars of light came from the skies and caused explosions everywhere. An entire wall crumbled and crushed part of the infirmary. The battle is over, for now.” Seteth’s voice exudes sadness.

You sob uncontrollably into his shoulder. The loss of life must have been great. Slowly the flow of tears subsides.

“Here, you must drink something.” Seteth offers a waterskin.

You drink your fill. Your eyes are more focused now and you notice you are in Seteth’s tent. You open your mouth to speak, his finger covers your lips.

“You need to rest.” Seteth softly says as he holds a potion bottle for you to drink. You smell the bitterness of the sedative. Nodding your head, you drink the contents. He then lays you back on his cot.

You awaken to the sounds of birds chirping and soldiers walking through the camp. This time you are not nearly in as much pain as you were previously. Sitting up, you assess your injuries. Based on the wrappings and pain your left shoulder has been broken. You have multiple contusions on your arms and legs. Feeling your head, your hair has been washed and there are a few spots where cuts are healed.

You watch the tent flap open and Flayn brings two plates of breakfast to set on the table.

“I am glad you are awake. My brother is in the war council meeting. Let me help you walk over here and get something to eat.” Flayn’s smile is soft and encouraging.

As you both eat, she updates you on the status of the camp. The battle was won, then the Fort was attacked. They did lose two clerics and several soldiers when the tent was hit by debris. They repaired the infirmary tent and treatment of the wounded is ongoing. The soldiers are reorganizing, preparing for the march to Enbarr.

“I feel bad for stealing your brother’s bed.” You frown. You are unaccustomed to inconveniencing others, especially your wonderful friends.

“He slept on the floor next to you to make certain you did not wake up and head back to the infirmary.” Flayn giggles.

“He knows me well.” You nod.

“He hovered over you like a mother hen. He was very worried.” Flayn looks at you, her eyes seem to bore into you. “Do you like him?”

“Well, yes, I do. We have been friends for many years.” You answer, deciding that the eggs on your plate are very interesting so you stare at them. They stare back.

“You would make a great couple.” She giggles.

You almost choke on the food you are chewing. Grabbing a drink of water, you take a few gasps of air. “What makes you think that?” Your face is bright red, you can’t look her in the eye.

“I am getting pretty good at noticing these things. When things are difficult, you tend to find someone that you can lean on and support you. Dimitri and Marianne, Felix and Sylvain, Mercedes and Dedue. It is only natural. You and my brother watch out for each other, keep the other from overworking, make sure they eat properly. I think it is inevitable.” She grins and looks quite satisfied with herself.

Your brain goes into overdrive. “I spend a lot of time with you as well. Knitting, cooking, fishing.”

“Yes. However, you do not act romantically toward me, your attitude is more…hmmm,” Flayn puts a finger to her chin. “Motherly.”

“It is true that I am that way toward you. My mother passed not long after giving birth to my youngest brother. Father relied on me to help raise my siblings as I was the oldest. I see so much of my siblings in you. Your naivety, looking at the world through innocent eyes. I feel very protective of you and understand your brother’s concern. I also recognize his attitude of overprotectiveness. You are all he has left.” You pat her hand.

“True. I thank you for your support. He needs to learn and understand that I am no longer a little girl.” Flayn pouts, slightly ruining her ‘I am an adult’ speech.

“Perhaps you should speak with him. Have a heart to heart conversation.” You feel relieved the conversation has shifted to her feelings about her restrictive sibling.

The remainder of your breakfast is quiet. Flayn returns the dishes to the cooks as you slowly make your way to the infirmary tent. Late in the evening you are lying and resting in an empty cot when you hear Seteth’s voice. You sit up as he approaches.

“There is no need to get up.” He apologizes. “I was simply checking on your wellbeing.”

Feeling brave, you reach up to take his hand. “Thank you for helping me. I have been pacing myself and taking frequent breaks. I am very grateful for everything you have done. I am sure you would like to enjoy your privacy and sleep more comfortably.”

Seteth squeezes your hand. “You are not a burden. My door is always open for you. Sleep well.” He smiles as he leaves.

You lie there, overthinking the short exchange. Are you special or simply a good friend? You want to curse Flayn for lighting aflame these thoughts in your head. You eventually drift off to sleep.

Several weeks later you march with the troops back to Garreg Mach. The war is over. Enbarr and the Emperor are defeated. Rhea is rescued and officially appoints Byleth as the new Archbishop. The Knights are busy taking out rogue bands of Imperial troops and bandits, returning to the monastery to be healed and rest up for the next battle.

Seteth is constantly overworking himself along with Byleth as they create the new doctrine for the church. They also communicate with Dimitri by letter, regarding plans for the continent. You find yourself constantly interrupting their meetings, forcing them to break for food or to take a walk to get fresh air.

“I thought we had just stopped for lunch. Is it time for dinner already?” Seteth looks up from the table filled with scattered parchment and books. Byleth doesn’t look up from his writing.

“Yes. Flayn and I have caught some fish and we are having it for dinner. No excuses.” You glare at them sternly. “Join us in the dining hall.” You do not say now, however it is implied and they stop their work quickly.

While eating, Seteth and Byleth attempt to continue their conversation regarding a particular section of doctrine.

“I order both of you to rest. Talk of something not business,” You plead. “I have heard that Dimitri will only work six days a week, taking one day for his mental wellbeing and health. I completely stand behind that mindset. True, there are always some issues that have to be dealt with, however the focus of the day off is to give yourself a break.”

Byleth looks at you as if you have two heads.

“Vessel of the goddess, yeah, yeah.” You frown at them. “You still need to eat, to sleep, and to rest. Keep this up and you’re headed straight for another five year nap. How much work are you going to finish then?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, looking at them smugly.

“She seems quite serious and peremptory. I don’t think we have much of a choice in this.” Seteth acquiesces. “Saucy little woman.” He whispers to his soup.

“What was that?” You snip.

“I said you make a fine spokeswoman.” He quickly shovels more fish into his mouth.

A week later they announce that Sunday shall be a day of rest except for what must absolutely be accomplished. The first week goes quite well. Byleth and Seteth spend much of the day resting in the afternoon sun as they fish in the pond.

They even admit to a renewed spirit as they return to their work the next day, having clearer minds and feeling rested. Things go well until the fourth week.

You are in the infirmary long enough to heal and bandage a burn on Annette’s arm when you cannot help but hear Seteth and Flayn’s very loud and angry voices emitting from his office. Quickly you dismiss Annette, telling her not to utter a single word.

As you approach Seteth’s door, Flayn runs out crying and fleeing to her room upstairs.

Seteth is sitting at his desk, his head in his hands.

“I do not know what has gotten into that child. She simply does not understand that I am trying to protect her.” He groans.

You knock on the door frame. Seteth waves you in and you close the door behind you.

“Apologies. I am sorry you were a witness to our outburst.” He sounds exasperated.

“She has grown to become quite the independent woman.” You disclose. “She has emotionally developed from a child into an adult since I met her all those years ago.”

Seteth groans. “The world is a dangerous place. I only want to keep her safe. Just a few years ago she was kidnapped right under my nose. I cannot let any harm befall her.”

“It hurts. It hurts to let them go. Watching them flee the safe and warm nest you have prepared.” You begin. “Your relationship is like a hand full of sand. Held loosely, with an open hand, the sand remains where it is. The minute you close your hand and squeeze it tightly to hold on, the sand trickles through your fingers. You can hold on to some of it, but most of it spills. A relationship should be like sand held loosely, with respect and freedom for the other person, it will remain intact. But hold too tightly, too possessively and the relationship slips away and is gone forever.”

“I cannot lose her.” The tears flow from his eyes.

You come around to his side of the desk and hold him to your chest. “There are two times when parenting is most difficult. When the baby first arrives and when the adult first leaves home.”

“You are not fully aware…” He chokes on his words.

“That you are her father? She has slipped too many times in her speech. I know you love her more than anything. You have raised her as your child, regardless. The thought of her leaving breaks your heart. I know.” You assure him. You had felt like you died a little every time one of your brothers and sisters left the nest.

“I want to take her and flee. Hide deep in the mountains where I can protect her.” He gasps through his tears.

“Have you asked her if that is what she wants? If you take her and run, she may escape, putting herself out alone in the wild and into even greater danger. If you let her remain, surround herself with friends who love and protect her, just as you have, could she be safe? If you part from her angry, will she ever come back? These are things you need to ask yourself.”

“If I did that, I would truly lose her.” He looks at you knowingly.

You nod and hold him as he shudders, his sobs filling the room. You pat his back and shoulders reassuringly. After a few minutes he takes a few cleansing breaths.

“My deepest apologies, I did not mean to bring you in to this.” Seteth obtains a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his tears.

“I am here to help you. To help Flayn too. Both of you can be quite stubborn when you want to be.” You rub circles on his back, continuing to bolster him.

“What should I do now. Where do we go from here?” Seteth looks completely overwhelmed.

“Start with a nice tea together, in a neutral territory. Perhaps on the star terrace? I will check with Byleth and see if that is acceptable. Let her know this is the first of several conversations you will have. It is like any negotiation, discuss the good and the bad. Let her know more details of what you are worrying about. If either of you begin to get upset, step away from the table and calm your mind.”

You pause to let him think for a moment. “Remind her that no matter what, you love her, wanting only the best for her. You want her to understand your concerns. You need to understand her concerns, her dreams, her priorities. Keep communicating. Talk and talk some more.” You hug him tightly then head for the door.

“I cannot thank you enough.” Seteth nods as you smile at him before leaving.

Standing guard at the foot of the stairs to the third floor you sip your tea for a bit then return to knitting. They have been up there talking over tea for over two hours. No doors slamming. No yelling. This is a good sign.

Seteth calls from the top of the stairs, asking you to join them.

Flayn is carrying the tea set into Rhea’s former bedroom. She places it on and end table, then rushes over to give you a hug.

“Thank you.” She quickly whispers before heading down the hall to her chambers.

You walk outside to stand next to Seteth at the balcony. The stars twinkle brightly in the cloudless sky. You look up to him as he stares into the heavens. The air is still and cool now that night has fallen. Patiently you wait for him to gather his thoughts.

“We had a productive conversation.” Seteth begins softly.

You hum in agreement, not wanting to interrupt.

“We spoke of many things. Some good, some bad. All of it necessary. You are correct, she has grown up before my eyes and I could not see it. She is a beautiful young woman.” He speaks slowly, each word tearing apart his heart.

You want to take him in your arms and reassure him, you can see the sadness in his eyes. His precious Flayn must be allowed to be free, and he feels like it is killing him. You settle with leaning against his shoulder with yours.

“She said she worries for me just as much as I for her. She fears that when she leaves, I will shut myself off from the world. I have told her many times that she is my world, that all I do, I do for her. She knows the sacrifices I have made for her sake. She is grateful. But she wants to do things on her own. How to fend for herself. I just—” his voice falters.

Seteth hangs his head low, gripping the balustrade tightly for support. “I am terrified.”

“Let her know you will always be there for her. That you are a place of safety for her, a refuge.” You rub his shoulder as you remain looking skyward.

“Of course, I will take her back, in a heartbeat. There is no doubt. I would bring her where I am without question.” He says with conviction. “The hardest part is to let her go in the first place.”

“She is still here, you have time to mend your hearts. You will always worry for her, she knows this. You have earned that right.” You softly pat his opposite shoulder your arm around his back..

“Thank you for being here.” Seteth turns and hugs you to his chest. You hug him back and stand with him in the cool air, sharing warmth with each other.

Flayn and Seteth have several teatime conversations, adult to adult. One day they decided to take a short holiday together, packing belongings on their wyverns and return several days later.

Seteth works twice as hard to make up for the lost time in his office. You spend time with Flayn as she tells you of her plans. Ignatz and Raphael are going to work as knights for Lorenz who has taken over Gloucester lands from his father. Lorenz is fully employing Ignatz to be ‘a knight that paints’. She will join them in a month’s time. She is in love with Ignatz, however does not want to jump into things too quickly. With her other friends there, she will see how the budding romance goes.

You giggle along with her about her exciting plans, what she wants to do for herself and things she will see. She is quite excited about visiting Derdriu. She’s always loved the ocean and the other coast is just north of the territory.

“What will you be doing now that things are settling down? Do you want to travel or start something new?” Flayn looks at you curiously.

“I’m still recovering from going through the war. I’ve always enjoyed working here. Because Byleth is staying here, friends will come to visit frequently. I am not much of a wanderer, so traveling is out. I don’t want to go north, the snow we have here is plenty.” You think for a moment. “Teaching sounds interesting if they decide to reopen the academy or a regular school. I would like to research some additional healing spells. There are many things to do. Deciding is the hard part.”

“You should think about finding someone special to settle down with.” Flayn smirks.

You nearly spit tea all over yourself. “I..um.” You cough into your napkin and gather your wits. “Unlike some people I know, I do not rush into things.”

“I have watched you pine over him for years.” She laughs.

Looking away from her you wiggle nervously in your chair. “I have no idea what you’re alluding to.”

“You both are so hopeless.” Flayn huffs.

A few days later, Flayn leaves a box outside your door labeled ‘Educational Materials’. You take them in your room then head to the infirmary for work. She has left a box there labeled ‘Medical Supplies’. You open the box and restock the shelves with the gauze and bandages. At the end of the day you return to your room deciding to open the box she has left for you. It is filled with romance novels. How strange. Educational? You think as you open one of the books to peruse through.

Flayn has finished packing her belongings. She distributed a few things around the monastery, leaving enough of her belongings in her room so that she will not have to pack anything when she comes to visit Seteth. The wagon from Gloucester territory has arrived and she watches them load her belongings onto the back. Flayn stands outside the carriage saying her goodbyes.

“Byleth, thank you for accepting me in your class. It began my journey to the independence that I celebrate today.” She gives him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“I must thank you for everything you have done for me. You have taught me how to cook, amazing fishing techniques and patience. Thank you for everything.” She takes your hands in hers as she gazes your face with a sincere smile. She kisses you on both cheeks, like the adult women of the court say goodbye.

Flayn jumps up and gives Seteth a tight hug. She buries her face in his chest so she cannot see his face.

“I will miss you most of all, brother. I promise to write. I will be safe, you’ll see.” She pauses so that he can kiss her on the forehead, then she turns and quickly enters into the carriage before anyone can see a tear fall from her eyes. The carriage pulls away and she waves out the window with her hand.

Byleth stares as the carriage leaves. “Do you think she will cry?”

“She is bawling her eyes out right now.” You manage to chuckle, trying to hold back your own tears. A sniffle still escapes.

Seteth has moved inside the building, most likely to hide his own tears. You stand next to Byleth, not sure what to do with yourself. Byleth eventually looks over to you.

“I’ll go to the wyvern rookery to make sure he doesn’t try to follow her. You should go talk to him.” Byleth announces as they head out.

Heading up the stairs to the second floor of the faculty building, the trip seems much longer than usual. You have no idea what to say to him. You pause outside his door, praying the goddess gives you the proper words.

“Seteth. May I come in?” Announcing your presence as you knock.

“This is not a good time for conversation.” He answers, not opening the door.

“We don’t have to speak.” You answer. “Please?”

The silence from the other side of the door is deafening. You wait, not moving.

“Enter.”

You enter, seeing him seated at his desk, looking toward the wall. You silently close the door. Approaching Seteth like you would a terrified animal, extending your hand toward him slowly and gently, you touch his shoulder.

He hangs his head and weeps into his chest. You place your head on his shoulder and arms around his back, letting him mourn his loss. His muscles are all tight as he pulls into himself, his body shakes with emotion.

When he has run out of tears, he pulls himself from your embrace. He tries to hide his face, swollen from crying. You reach for a pitcher and pour water onto a cloth, chill it with magic and place it on his forehead and eyes. You tilt his head back to rest it on the back of his chair. Moving behind him you massage his temples and apply healing magic to relieve the headache from crying.

He looks as if he is resting, or at least trying to relax after having tensed his entire body for so long.

“I am always here for you.” You say softly before leaving his office.

You arrange for dinner to be brought to his door. Disappointment crosses your face when you see the food is untouched hours later.

The next morning your rise early to fish, but the fish have no interest. You glance at the windows of Seteth’s office and there is no light. Heading to the infirmary you walk past it and stand outside of his office door. You knock, there is no answer. You attempt to open the door, it is locked.

While treating a cut on a soldier’s arm, Byleth enters the infirmary.

“Have you seen Seteth? He is late for our meeting this morning.” Byleth says, looking concerned.

“No. Perhaps you should check on him?” You offer. “I believe he skipped dinner last night and the cooks said he was not there for breakfast. He did not touch his food at dinner last night as well.”

Byleth frowns and heads for Seteth’s office door. You hear his knocking from inside the infirmary. Soon the hallway is quiet. A few minutes later you hear the tapping of Byleth’s boots walking down the hallway and going up to the third floor.

Putting away the bandages and salves, you jump when Byleth bursts into the infirmary.

“Come quick!” He orders.

Dashing up the stairs you head to Seteth’s room. Byleth is with him in the bedroom, having placed Seteth on his bed. He had found him lying on the floor of the front room.

You quickly assess Seteth’s condition. He has exhausted himself. His eyes are dark and sunken, black lines hang below his eyes. He has probably not been sleeping and certainly has not been eating. You knew he had not been sleeping well, he looked tired yesterday however, today is much worse.

“I can take over from here. Let the infirmary know I am indisposed for a day or so.” You announce as Byleth helps you pull a comfy chair from the parlor next to the bed. You also set a pitcher and two glasses on the nightstand.

“I’ll send dinner up.” Byleth says as he leaves the room.

You check Seteth frequently. He is sleeping soundly. You eat, leaving the dishes outside. He still has not moved. Grabbing a throw blanket, you curl up in the chair, settling in for the night. You leave your hand on top of his, you need to wake if he stirs.

The moonlight shining through the windows gives a bluish glow to the room, the sun has not yet risen, however it will in an hour or so. Seteth begins to stir. He yawns and instinctively reaches to cover his mouth. Just as he moves, you bolt upright in the chair and look at him. He notices you there, bolting upright as he realizes you are in his room.

“What are you doing here.” Seteth huffs.

“I am watching over my patient. Apparently, someone cannot be trusted to take care of themselves properly.” You fold your arms on your chest and give him a glare that could frighten a demonic beast.

Seteth attempts to hide his shame behind his hand, using it to cover his face. “My deepest apologies. My mind has not been in a good place. I have been overwhelmed with grief since before Flayn had even left. I know she is alive and well, but that does not lessen my concern for her.”

“I should write to her and tell her exactly what you have done to yourself as soon as she left.” You scold. “She put me in charge of you, no matter how many times I assured her that you are a grown man and capable of taking care of yourself. I have misjudged you. I am certain she will not be pleased to know she was right.”

You get up and hand him a glass of water. He takes a few sips, placing it on the nightstand. You hand it back to him again pointing to the center of the glass. He drinks half of the contents and looks at you. You nod and he puts the glass down. A few moments pass as you stare at each other.

“Are you hungry? I can run to get you something. Do you have any pain?” Your face softens.

“I will be fine. I think I will lie here and rest for a little while longer.” Seteth takes your hand in his. “You should get some rest as well. You don’t need to stay here and watch an old man sleep.”

“Apparently, I do.” You softly laugh, squeezing his hand and moving over to sit on the bed next to him. “You do not look like an old man. Sometimes you act like one, however when I saw you fighting during the war you were on the front lines along with those young men and you were running circles around them. I’ve seen you wield your lance, you are a force to be reckoned with.” You smile warmly at him.

“Oh? So you have been watching me?” He raises his eyebrows a bit.

“Yes. Watching you fight and fly on your wyvern is breathtaking.” You pause, “You are breathtaking.”

“I…I don’t know what to say. Thank you?” Seteth blushes.

Giving him a smile, you whisper, “We have much to discuss. But right now, we are both exhausted. Scoot over, I am not sleeping in that chair one more minute.”

“That is not proper. We shou-“ he gasps.

You lay next to him. “Shhh. Scoot. We are consenting adults who need sleep. I am fully clothed. You are under the covers, I am over them. No different than last night, except I will be comfortable and won’t wake with a pain in my neck.” You snuggle next to him, laying your head on his shoulder and arm across his waist. “Good night.”

Seteth lies there stiffly for a while. Then he heaves a sigh and lays his cheek on the top of your head, drifting off to slee

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fe16 #fe3h x reader #fire emblem #Seteth #Flayn #fe3h fanfic #feth #Seteth x reader

[earlgreydream]

war.

| 1940s!bucky x reader | angst |

warnings: mentions of blood, violence, war, etc... general angst 

Your feet smacked the pavement as you ran. Your muscles felt like they were burning in fire, but you kept going, terrified. Bombs crashed all around you, buildings crumbled, and the ground shook as if it were going to open up and swallow you. You almost wished it would. 

Gunshots popped and bullets whizzed past your ears. You made it to a rocky staircase, and you tried to run down when you tripped. You tumbled down the stone stairs, smacking against the ground, blood rising to the surface of your hands and knees. You swore, and before you could stand up again, the soldiers surrounded you. 

You screamed as your ankles were grabbed, and you were flipped onto your back. 

“Stop! it’s a woman!” A soldier called as your cloak was ripped from your body. You were hyperventilating, panic seizing you as you stared up at the American soldiers. The dagger sheathed in your belt was confiscated, and the men stared down at you. 

“Please!” you begged for mercy, your accent thickening in your desperation. 

“Sergeant Barnes?” The soldiers looked to their leader, the man who had yelled for them to stop attacking you. 

“We are not going to kill her!” He sounded angry.

“What if she’s a spy?”

“I’m not, I swear. My home was bombed, I was running in fear!” You cried, pleading with him for mercy. 

“We cannot leave her in the streets-”

“Of course not.” The Sergeant spoke to his soldier, wearing a uniform different than the others. You winced at a sharp pain in your side, and you looked down to see blood soaking through your dress. You began to feel lightheaded, but you were terrified to black out and be left at the mercy of the likely sex-deprived soldiers that were invading your country.

Your eyes grew heavy and you moaned in pain, gripping the wound on your side from hitting a rock in your fall down the stairs. 

“We need to get her to the medbay, come on!” 

The words echoed in your head as you were lifted by the leader, carried in his arms. You wanted to struggle and try to make a run for it, but you were far too weak and you had nowhere to go. 

“You’re safe, doll, I’m going to protect you.”

Your head dropped as you slipped into unconsciousness, limp in his arms.

Bucky stood over your unconscious body as the best medic treated your wounds. She wrapped your hands and stitched the gash on your side, and Bucky winced as he watched. 

“Will she be alright?” he asked the medic anxiously.

“Yes, she’ll be fine. I think she’s asleep from the shock.” The medic nodded, and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

She wrapped the wound on your side and left Bucky with some morphine to give you when you needed it, instructing him to monitor you. 

“Do you think she’s a spy, or a soldier?”

“No, there’s nothing that would suggest that. I think she really was just a victim-- collateral damage.” 

Bucky was alone with you, then. He sat beside his bed that you were currently sleeping on, in his private chambers, away from the men who wouldn’t be able to keep their hands to themselves with a pretty young girl unconscious. 

Your eyes opened slowly, and you looked around, disoriented. You tried to sit up, but weakly sank back against the pillows. You noticed him sitting beside you, and you looked down. You were now wearing loose pants, and an oversized t shirt-- an army green, from a soldier. 

“Did you-?!” You cried in horror. 

“No, no. The medic cleaned your wounds and changed you. She said you’re going to be fine!” Bucky assured you quickly, and you relaxed a bit. 

“Are you going to kill me? Or keep me as a prisoner of war?” You asked, turning your head to look at him. 

“No. You’re not a captive, or a war criminal.” He shook his head. He handed you a glass of water, and a piece of buttered bread and some blackberries. You accepted them with a quiet thanks, and he sat back, giving you space.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, and you gazed down at your lap.

“I’m James Buchanan Barnes.” 

You spent two weeks recovering in his quarters, while he slept on a cot, guarding you and making sure you slept and had plenty to eat and drink. He’d opened up to you in that time, telling you about growing up in Brooklyn, New York. He had been drafted into the war, not really wanting to go overseas and kill people, and hurt innocents in the process-- innocents like you. Bucky was consumed with guilt, and was growing fond of you. 

He wished that he could just leave, go back to America and take you with him.  He had learned that you weren’t any kind of enemy like others suspected. You were orphaned by the war, by your own people. Almost everyone you knew and loved had been lost in the bloodbath, and now you were alone, struggling for survival in what felt like an apocalypse. 

Bucky convinced you to get some fresh air, and go outside. You’d stayed hidden under his protection, feeling safer with him than you had in years, since the war started. 

“James...” 

“It will be fine.” 

You took a walk with him, holding his hand as you walked through the soft grass. You giggled as he picked a daisy, handing it to you with a smile. 

“Are you trying to impress me?” You asked, blushing as you looked into sweet grey eyes.

“Is it working?” He grinned boyishly at you, and you saw a glimpse of the real James, not the soldier. He leaned down and kissed you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. 

“I love you, Y/N” He smiled at the bright spot in the misery, the girl he began to wake up for. His gaze was filled with adoration as he looked at you, a rescue from the streets of a war-torn village.

“You’re not bringing that nazi bitch with us!” A soldier shouted, and Bucky was at his throat immediately. 

“Don’t ever speak about her that way!” Bucky yelled, pinning him to the wall by the throat, a gun pressed against his chest. 

“Stop!” You cried, trying to pull Bucky off, not wanting him to murder the soldier in front of you, and all his troops. 

“Sergeant Barnes, you cannot seriously think of bringing Y/N to the Danish border with us.” Steve, Bucky’s loyal friend asked, giving you a pathetic look.

“Shut up, of course she’s coming with us!” Bucky wrapped an arm around you, trying to calm your shaking.

“Sergeant, she’s a nazi.”

“She’s NOT!” Bucky fired off a shot, and you winced against him. The bullet sank into the wall, but you were sobbing with fear, memories of being shot at flooding your mind and taking over your ability to think. 

“Ever since she came, you’re not the leader you were. You’re not thinking clearly!” Steve argued with him as if you weren’t there. 

You already knew what everybody thought of you. There was no hiding it. To the Americans, you were just a nazi whore that Bucky kept around for sex, and nothing more. They didn’t know the way he kissed you, the way your eyes sparkled with joy at even the slightest bit of attention from him. When you had nightmares, Bucky read to you from one of his books, or sang a song softly from Ella Fitzgerald. 

There was no one else. Every day, every night, all Bucky could think about was you. Leaving the war, taking you back to America, and building a life with you. He thought of a brownstone in Brooklyn, buying you dresses and making a family with you. He wanted to spin you around and dance with you to records in your living room, and take you on dates to a drive-in-movie. He wanted you to be the last thing he saw at night and the first thing in the morning. He was in love with you. And you were in love with him.

But you couldn’t escape the slurs and hate of his colleagues, and dearest friends. You knew it would be nothing like what you would receive in Brooklyn, your accent and broken English giving you away. It would make Bucky an outcast too-- a former soldier who left the war for an enemy girl. He would be a disgrace. 

You knew you could receive asylum in Denmark, a country not plagued by the war like elsewhere. You’d be a refugee, but you could join their society safely, and build a real life there. You traveled with the soldiers, transported there safely. 

You laid in bed with Bucky, kissing him sweetly. He ran his fingers through your hair, your head on his chest. He talked about New York pizza, and you smiled, tracing shapes on his skin with your fingertips. His voice sounded so happy when he talked about a future with you, you felt like your heart was going to shatter. 

“I love you, James.” 

“I love you more than the stars, Y/N.”

You pretended to sleep, but fear and nausea kept you up all night. You didn’t stir as Bucky got up for an early meeting with an officer at the American Embassy in Denmark. 

As soon as he was gone, you were on your feet. You got dressed silently, slipping money and a knife into your clothes and pulling a coat on over it. Tears blinded you and made it more difficult, as well as struggling to be quiet in the dark so you didn’t catch the attention of Bucky’s soldiers. 

The sun had barely peaked above the horizon, the sky still mostly dark, and the world asleep. You broke into a run, escaping out the window in the back. You ran from the base, getting as far away as you could. Your heart shattered into a million tiny pieces, pain shooting through your chest. 

Nightfall, you made it to a home for female refugees, women left alone by the war. You were dirty and exhausted, and barely able to breathe. You had sobbed the entire day as you traveled, making it nearly to Århus. 

“Welcome. You’re safe now.” A danish woman said, embracing you as you were taken inside the safehouse. You broke down in her arms, screams of heartache ripping through your chest.

“Y/N! I’m home, doll!” Bucky called, opening the door. His brow furrowed in confusion upon finding an empty room. He went to the bathroom, checking to see if you were in the shower. He couldn’t find you, and he walked through the halls. 

“Has anyone seen Y/N?” He asked every soldier desperately, all of them shaking their heads. 

He went back to his room, finding a note written inside of the book cover on his bedside, left open. 

I love you. more than the stars. I hope you understand.

He screamed your name, dropping down to his knees, his head falling into his hands as he rocked back and forth. Steve ran in, dropping down and wrapping his arms around Bucky as he fell apart. Sobs wracked his body, his dreams falling apart, his lover slipping through his fingers. He had just gotten news that he could be honorably discharged in three months, to start a family with you. He came home to tell you that you just had to stick it out a little longer. The flowers he brought were discarded and littered amongst the floorboards. 

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