#will I ever get tired to draw this young lad?

[pacifymebby]

Angels // Bonnie Gold

Fluff that gets carried away and becomes NSFW by the end / you look after Bonnie after a fight. Vaguely based on the song Angels by the XX

"Y'know little dove I don't think this is what Tommy had in mind when he told you to draw me a bath..." Smirked Bonnie where he stood in the middle of the cool stone floor, watching you through the gathering steam. The deep green tiles on the wall glistened with condensation, your shoulders glistened too, little beads of water scintillating under the low light of the candles you'd lit and placed carefully all around the room.

"If it's not then he very naive..." you replied, your smirk just as soft, as mischievous as his.

If Bonnie had been asked to describe you in that moment, he would have said angelic. In just your faded coral slip, silky and drifting as if caught in a gentle current just above your knees, you looked as though you'd drifted down to him from heaven itself. And Bonnie had taken enough blows to the head that afternoon to believe in those kinds of miracles.

It had been a long fight and in order to try and rake in the most money from takings Tommy had asked Bonnie to prolong the fight until the 10th round. He'd taken more hits than he was used to and you'd been a little shocked to see him up close in the dressing room. When he'd been declared champion in the ring you had of course been able to see the blood smeared over his face, but to see the damage up close had left you shaking. You were certain that your brothers already knew about you and Bonnie's secret affections anyway but if they hadn't, then the way you'd rushed to hold his face so delicately in your hands, the way you'd insisted on cleaning him up yourself - and the way you'd done so with the gentleness of a saint - had to have given you away.

It had to have been obvious how in love with him you were. So you were right in what you'd said to Bonnie.

If Tommy hadn't known exactly what you would do the moment you were left alone with the young fighter, then he was stupid. Simple as that.

Still, whether you were right or wrong that didn't stop Bonnie being a little nervous at the thought of what Tommy would do to him if he ever caught the two of you together.

As you stepped up to him to begin undoing the buttons of his thin linen undershirt which was still stained with blood from the big fight, he found himself grow a little shy. For a second when you looked up at him with your big doe eyes, the picture of innocence as your fingers stepped nimbly, button to button down his chest, he didn't know where to look.

He tried to clear his throat, eyes wandering to study the ceiling but only for a second, unable to resist you for even a moment.

"Somehow I don't think your big brother wants you helping a 'savage' undress dove..." he said cracking a crooked little grin, the whites of his teeth showing as his dimple etched into his cheek. He was laughing at the remark which had been thrown around by more than one man in Charlie's Yard when the Golds had first arrived in small health, but you knew that somewhere beneath his stubborn, self assured surface, Bonnie harboured some doubts about himself when it came to you, the Shelby 'fuckin' princess.

Still, you weren't one to let your lad linger on thoughts like that and so as you slipped one hand beneath the linen of his shirt and smoothed it gently over his bruised chest searching for his heartbeat, you stood on tip toes and cupped his cheek with your other.

"My big brother told me to look after you Mr Gold," you said, your voice a troublemaking whisper as your eyes glowed and locked with his, " so thats just what I'll do and if he don't like it..." you said pausing momentarily when your eyes flickered over his tired cheek bones, your irises reflected in his, caught out for a moment by his rugged brusiy beauty.

"What?" He chuckled, his hand resting on yours as you remained holding his cheek, studying him with the faint flicker of awe in your pupils, "if he don't like it what?"

You closed your eyes and rushed to press your lips firm and lingering against his, catching him by surprise so that he almost stumbled back, his hand catching your shoulder to steady you both as you kissed his lips once and then twice, hesitating as you pulled away only to come straight back for another.

For a second he was so stunned all he could do was stand there gazing back at you, shocked by you moment of smothering affection. But his smile lingered and as he looked at you he found it increasingly difficult to let you finish your sentence.

"If he don't like it," you smirked stroking Bonnie's cheek with your thumb, "well one day this 'savage' is gonna be king of the whole wide fuckin world ain't he... So Tommy'll just have to get used to it." You said with such cheeky defiance, such determined confidence that Bonnie couldn't help but laugh at you and shake his head, grinning as he let his shirt fall from his shoulders and land in a heap at his feet.

"Alright," he said, his voice low and thick with amusement, "you've convinced me little dove but..."

"What?" You asked quietly as he reached out to you, fingers grazing your delicate shoulder, knocking the strap of your dress down so that it fell and revealed your soft skin. Your neck soft with an ethereal sheen left by the steam which had caressed and settled over you like a warm breath. The little heart shaped meeting of your collar bones above your chest, the freckles which scattered your body in all the places the sun had once reached out to touch you.

He was mesmerized by you at the best of times but now... Now when he was so tired, when his body ached from the fight, every muscle craving a little tenderness, now when he'd been waiting to get you alone all day... Now he was utterly convinced that you were a gift sent from god just for him.

"But..." he teased, leaning down to kiss you, letting his lips graze yours as he spoke with that unforgivable smirk, "when he finds out and you wind up in all sorts of trouble," he chuckled, "this savage ain't gonna stick around to save you sweetheart..." he said rolling his eyes when you giggled and shrugged him off, shrugging out of your slip and letting it fall as you dismissed his threat carelessly.

"You don't mean that..." you smiled up at him sweetly, biting back the most angelic of grins when he raised his brow and asked you just what made you so sure of that.

"You're always here to save me..." you said, eyes locking with his, a brief flicker of sincerity that left a small but proud smile on his lips. Your hands resting on his bare chest, your eyes flickering over the damage left by his opponent, a frown etching only to disappear just as quickly when you looked up at him and met him with mischief in your voice, "even when I really deserve it..."

He chuckled and shook his head, caught your shoulder just as you turned to step away so that he could pull you back to him. Bow his head to leave a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"C'mon," you murmured, tilting your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as you let him trail his fingertips down your neck, the steam misting between you like a veil to be brushed aside too.

You stepped into the water first, your fingers grazing Bonnie's palm as he held his hand out to steady you. Tender with you even now when it was supposed to be the other way round.

But you knew your Bonnie in and out and you knew that this was the only way he'd let you take care of him. If you let him pretend it was you who needed to be treated tenderly that evening.

The water was hot and for a moment after stepping in you felt that good sting spread from your ankles to your thighs. Bonnie watched as you lowered yourself beneath the water, watched your naked form dip beneath the surface, concealed from him by the dancing candlelight on the surface. He watched the water lap at your chest as you lowered yourself beneath the hot water to your neck, watched as your skin blushed a tempting shade of pink... And when you opened your legs slowly, your eyes flickering to meet his, your hand closing around his and tugging him closer to the tub well... he wasn't about to try and resist you.

You watched as he used one foot to push down the leg of his trousers, bit back a grin when he had to kick his foot a little to send his boxers on their way, but your smile changed when he returned his focus to you. When his eyes locked with yours, warm and dark and flickering with a tender kind of lust. One which was growing more familiar the longer you spent in the fighters company.

"Hurry up," you said with a childish kind of smile, "you'll get cold..."

"Not likely," he chuckled making some passing comment about you Shelby's and your luxuries. He was often teasing you for the spoils your family enjoyed, the wealth which seemed to leak unignorably from every corner of your lives. How you never showed to one of his fights in anything less than your finery. He was always making little jokes about how people would start rumours you were out of his league, but you were more stubborn than anyone when it came to that... That Bonnie would be champion of the whole world one day, that if anything it was the other way around.

"Bon please..." you stuck your bottom lip out, pouting up at him in the hopes he might stop stalling, stop giving you those hungry eyes and just slip into the water with you. "I'm trying to be a good girl here and you won't let me..." you carried on feigning a sulk, gasping exasperated and splashing water at him when he raised his brow.

"you? Good?" He smirked grinning and flicking his fingers through the water to splash you back, enjoying the little shriek and the way you flinched and squirmed away.

You whined as you brushed soapy water from your eyes holding your hand out to catch his again. Relieved when this time he gave in and joined you. His sigh of relief harmonised with yours as he lowered himself into the tub and came to rest between your legs. He couldn't keep the little smile off his lips when you sat up and wrapped your arms around him pressing your chest against his back, guiding him down into your embrace as you nuzzled into his neck and scattered tender little kisses like freckles over his skin. You kissed his shoulder and let your lips linger, smiling softly to yourself as you held him, so precious, in your arms.

He was much broader than you but with your arms and your thighs locked around his body you held him just as securely as he could ever hold you. And with your cheek resting against his shoulder he felt so at home. The ache of the fight seemed to melt away from him beneath your delicate touch and as you trailed your hands up over his biceps and leant back into the tub you brought him down with you until the two of you were lying down neck deep in the water, held by the heat and the steam.

You dragged your teeth gently over his neck as you kissed him again, tickling him affectionately as he tilted his head back against your shoulder. You watched as he smiled, his eyes closed, a satisfied little hum leaving his lips as he chuckled at your persistent playful advances.

"You seem happier now," he teased referring to the apparent panic which had gripped you when you'd first seen him in the changing rooms.

For a second you'd been terrified, a dagger through your heart at the sight of your love in such a sorry looking state.

"Don't think I like watching you fight as much as everyone else does..." you admitted with a shy smile, glad he wasn't looking at you to see the way you blushed. You felt silly admitting it but it was true. From afar it was easy to watch him, when you couldn't see the damage being done. When you could see the state he was leaving the other lad in. When he was grinning bright eyed despite the blood in his mouth, one fist held in the air. Champion again.

But when you had his wounded jaw held in your palm. When you could feel the heat and the swelling left after the show, when you could see how tired he really was after the fuss had all died down. Well, it scared you a little.

"That's because you worry too much." He chuckled turning his head so that he was nuzzled into your neck, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw as your fingers idled in his damp curls. "Does that mean I'm gonna have to fare without my good luck charm next time?" He asked looking up at you through his long black lashes.

"No," you said, your soft smile mirroring his, "I'll be at every single one of your fights, wouldn't want those girls from the front row getting any ideas..."

"Oh really? Were there girls in the front row?" He grinned trying to tease you with his clearly-for-show-feigned disinterest.

"Oh give over," you giggled trailing off as you spider walked your fingers down over his shoulder, letting your hand rest flat over his chest where you could feel the beating of his heart. "Actually," you said with a softer more self aware smirk, "I just couldn't let anyone else patch you up after... I wanna be able see for myself that you're okay you know? An I don't trust anyone else to know..."

Bonnie looked down at your hand on his chest, grateful that the dim light and the steam concealed the true cause of his blushing cheeks. He watched your hand resting on his heart and relaxed into your embrace. With your legs wrapped around him he felt so secure, so cared for. And everything you'd just said to him, he'd been secretly hoping to hear.

"So let me get this straight," he said, his teasing smirk hard to hide or hold back, "you y/n Shelby, think you know better than a trained doctor?"

"When it comes to you, yeah..." you bit your lip, feeling a little more shy when he held your hand and took it from his chest. Held it up to his lips instead, brushing his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his lips to your palm and let it linger.

"You fuckin Shelby's," he muttered shaking his head disapprovingly, "you're all the fuckin same..."

"Oh well," you giggled letting your other hand trail down his chest beneath the water, letting your fingers graze his inner thigh temptingly, "if we're all the fuckin same maybe you'd like to swap me out for one of my brothers..." you said with a cheeky smile, your hand squeezing his thigh, trying to tease him.

"No dove," he grinned, his voice catching in his throat as he felt your fingers wandering below the water, felt your knuckles gentle caress lightly up his semi hard length. "I promise you I would not."

His voice was lower then, a little tight sounding as your fingers curled around his length and began to massage him gently.

He was quiet then, his breath and your breath, the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the tub, the only sounds as he relaxed under your touch.

As you moved your hand slowly beneath the water you left a scattering of lethargic open mouthed kisses over his shoulder and up along his neck, trailing slowly up to his jaw. He couldn't hold back the soft groan of pleasure which left him as you settled into a gentle rhythm, your thighs squeezing a little tighter around his waist.

As you worked at relaxing Bonnie you felt your own body growing more sensitive too. Your nipples hard, rubbing his back, a heat between your open legs that only the current of the water moving between you could satisfy. And really all that tickling current served to do was drive your longing.

"You really are a good girl aren't you little dove," he hummed as he pushed himself up a little so that he could reach to catch the corner of your mouth in a kiss.

And when you felt his lips brush yours you couldn't help but give in to him and let him take what he wanted from you. With one hand reached up behind you he held the back of your head and guided your lips down to meet his, opening your mouth with the flick of his tongue. You let him in, let his tongue brush over yours as he hummed in pleasure, the vibrations sending a little spark straight to your tummy. Sparking your own desire to a torturous level as you carried on pleasuring him beneath the water.

"Don't get used to it..." you tried to tease pulling away from his kiss only able to escape his pull for a moment before he cut you off and pulled you back in. His lips locked with yours hungrily as he slipped his tongue back into your mouth. His fingers tangled in your hair, his strength meaning he could force your head down closer to him with ease.

He kissed you harder, biting your lip and tugging to draw you in even closer, your moan melting with his when you tightened your gentle grip around his shaft to apply just enough pressure as your slipped your palm over his head and rolled your thumb over his tip.

You felt him grow even harder against your palm and bit back a satisfied little smile enjoying the knowledge that you were turning him on. Enjoying the thought that any minute now he'd lose the will to resist you and have you pulled up into his lap in seconds.

That was your favourite thing to do. Tease him until the switch flipped in his head and he simply picked you up, manouvered you however he want you, took you however he needed to.

He was so much stronger than you and the reminder of that fact in those moments of passion left you dizzied by your desire for him.

And this time it was just the same.

The needy grunt which escaped him as you teased his balls with your palm. The way he stiffened for a second, paused to think about it before he settled on his next move.

The way once he'd decided he moved so quickly, not caring for the mess of water he sent spilling over the sides of the tub when he swapped your places in the bath and pulled you up onto his lap.

Suddenly you were completely exposed. Suddenly it was you blushing, balanced perfectly before him, water rushing down your body, rivulets trickling over your breasts. Steam rising from your skin. The flicker of light from the wavering candles. The shadows which danced over you as you lowered yourself onto his cock with a soft sigh. You were heavensent. As he leant back in the tub, his hands caressed the curves of your body, watching you shiver and blush with his every delicate tough, he was certain of it. You were an angel sent down to earth just for him. He was the luckiest man alive.

"Fuck.." you breathed, a self conscious shake in your voice as you smiled and felt his cock stroke the sensitive spot inside you. Teasing you as he moved slowly and then not at all.

For a minute he was still, and his hands resting firmly on your hips held you still too.

You could feel yourself clenching and relaxing around his shaft, could feel the needy pulse beating in your clit, the wanting ache in your thighs. But bonnie was strong enough to hold you still and the small amount of pressure he applied was enough to render you helpless.

He let his eyes trail the length of your body slowly and smiled, you were gorgeous and he wanted to memorise every detail of the way you looked in that moment. Wanted to lock your image away in the back of his mind so that next time he was in that ring he could remind himself just what he'd be going home to if he won.

"Jesus Christ y/n I think you might be a fuckin angel you know..." he smirked, his soft chuckle as he spoke leaving a blush which glowed on your cheeks and your breast bone. With one hand still holding your hips he let his other trail back up over your belly and between your breasts. His smirk lingering as he watched you shiver beneath his touch. He could get cocky sometimes, when he watched how weak you were for him. How dependent on him you were in these moments when you found yourself at the mercy of his touch.

"With a mouth like that you'd better hope I'm not... I'll tell on you and you'll never get to..." but just as the word 'heaven' teetered on the tip of your tongue Bonnie pushed your hip down, grinding your crotch against his so that instead of teasing him all you could do was shiver and whimper instead.

"What was that little dove?" He asked, sitting up a little straighter so that he could look you in the eyes as he fucked you.

You were lost for words then, your eyes sparkling with amusement, a shy kind of knowing when you met his gaze and held it giving in and letting him manipulate your body. Moving your hips to the rhythm he set with a little smile on your lips.

His nose knocked against yours as he caught your lips with his mumbling the softest "I love you" as he ground your hips down even harder than the last time, sending a wave of pleasure through your core and a flutter of butterflies through your tummy. You couldn't help the smile which glowed on your face as he kissed you again. He kissed the corner of your mouth and then your cheek, trailed a freckling of kisses alone your jaw and neck only to change his mind a moment later and return to kiss you on your open, moaning mouth.

Your back arched with pleasure as you began to pick up the pace, his hands smoothing up your waist, holding you firmly as you moved up and down his shaft, digging a little deeper each time as you tried to chase your high.

He ran his hands up your back and held your shoulders, pulling you in flush against his chest. Your nipples rubbing against his chest as the two of you moved in harmony, your sighs of pleasure harmonising too.

You could tell you were making a mess, could hear the water splashing over the side of the tub and hitting the floor in little waves, but you didn't care about that anymore.

All you cared about was getting as close to one another as possible. And all you knew was you couldn't get close enough.

You were growing desperate, clutching at one another, forehead to forehead, your eyes closed as you kissed fiercely and took all of the adrenaline from the fight out on one another.

"You know I don't understand," you whispered, your voice shaking as you snatched in little breaths only to let them go moments later with sighs of pleasure, "how the rest of the world sees you every day and isn't... Isn't as..." you were growing weaker by the second but when you held Bonnie's cheek in your hand and looked down at him through the steam rising from the water, you were determined to get your words out and speak from your heart, "isn't as in love with you as I am..."

And as the words left your lips you watched Bonnie smile, his eyes still closed. His lips finding yours quickly for another kiss before he hushed you. His lips brushed over your ear lobe as he whispered to you.

"Shh little dove," and slipped his thumb into your mouth to quiet you as he pushed himself up deeper inside you and enjoyed the way you shivered in his hands. "I love you too angel but hush now Dove.."

Your eyes fluttered shut once more as you wrapped your lips around his thumb and sucked slowly, trying to relax so that you might hold on for a moment or two more.

But Bonnie didn't want you to hold on anymore, didn't want to watch you restrain yourself in anyway and so despite your best efforts to hold onto your high for a moment more, all it took was another teasing drag and thrust for you to come undone and collapse weak and shaking in his arms.

And hearing your little cry of pleasure as you crumbled was all it took to send him over the edge too so that as your body shook with your orgasm, you felt him grow inside you and release. A warmth filling you as he held you firmly down in his lap, squeezing your body so securely against his as you nuzzled into his shoulder and felt his lips on your neck. He nuzzled into you two, his chin on your shoulder as he dragged his lips over your skin and mumbled to you once again how much he loved you. How precious you really were to him.

You kept your eyes closed for a moment, your head bowed, your cheek against his as you listened to the sounds of your breath and his breath overlapping. The licking of the water against the tub slowing as everything in the room began to still with you.

You could feel his cock twitching inside you as he filled you up, your clit throbbing too as you ground hips at growing ever longer intervals.

You couldn't keep the smile from your lips, that giddy full of love feeling washing over you. The feeling only growing stronger when Bonnie looked up at you, held your cheek in his hand and guided you back to his mouth for a softer, even more tender kiss than all the others before it.

When he pulled away and leant back against the tub, his curly hair falling damp and lazy across his eyes, his smirk was lazy too. Lazy but smug. It left you eyeing him suspiciously as you asked what he was looking at you like that for.

For a second he was quiet, his mischievous little smirk twitching as he shrugged his shoulders and tried to play at innocence.

"Bonnie what?" You whined giggling though you were growing a little frustrated, a little desperate. He was making you blush again and the longer he left you in silence with that stupid smirk on his lips, the more desperately you needed to know. "Please Bonnie what?!"

"You wouldn't tell god on me..." he said, that smug smirk remaining and certain because he knew he was right. And you couldn't deny it either.

"No." You whispered sheepishly, looking down shyly as you bit back a smile. Didn't look away quick enough to miss the way Bonnie was gazing up at you still. As if he really did believe he was looking at an angel.

Taglist

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#bonnie gold smut #bonnie gold x reader #bonnie gold imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders x reader #Spotify

[saratogaroadwrites]

For King and Country (19/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount:  280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

=

Two weeks later, minds still reeling with all they had learned from Niall, the not-so-little group returned to the Camp in the Heartlands.

Or at least, what had been the Camp in the Heartlands. Evan had been able to hear the hammering and sawing of construction long before they had crested the hill that overlooked the camp, but as they finally drew near enough to see it, he stopped dead in his tracks and inhaled sharply.

“Look!” He pointed down, drawing everyone’s attention. When they had left for Goldpaw with Nella over a month ago, the camp had been a cluster of tents and fields. There had been plans for so much more, but barely enough supplies for a single room cottage. The Sky Pirates had promised Evan they would have something for him when he returned, but this was—this was so much more than he could have ever asked for!

Sky Pirates and Greenlings and Grimalkin all ran about in the camp below, the bright dots of color that were Auntie Martha’s creatures running in their wake. Every one was working hard at building or clearing land; a rudimentary boundary had been marked, wider than the camp had been, and at the back, surrounded by the winding river, was a large marked plot of land. It could only be for one thing.

A castle.

Evan beamed, running to the edge of the hill for a closer look. Walking up behind him, Batu nodded.

“I smells a smell on the wind,” He said, taking a deep breath of the clean air. “That o’ progress. Seems the mangy dogs got tired of twiddlin’ their thumbs!”

That and so much more! Evan looked from one side of the former camp to the other. The tents were still there, but now there were so many places marked for buildings, and wood pressed into the ground for roads when it rained and—there were so many people! He stared at them all.

“Where did all these people come from?!” Even if some of the Pirates had spread the word, there was no way they could account for all of these people! Roland stepped up beside him.

“I see Greenlings, Sky Pirates…there’s even more people from Ding Dong Dell,” He whistled low. “Guess it has been long enough for them to get here.”

“They must want to be citizens of our amazing new kingdom!” Tani said proudly.

“I’m sure they do,” Nella returned, though she sounded more concerned than anything. Evan turned to face her as she said, “But how did they know to come here?”

“Ye’ve me to thank for that, lassie,” Niall said, causing all eyes to fall on him. “After yer boy left me forest the first time, I put out some feelers, called on some old friends.” Niall smiled proudly. “I knew if I pulled ‘er in, she’d come runnin’ and bring ‘er ‘ole lot with ‘er.”

“Her?” Evan asked.

“There’s my lad!” A familiar voice cried out. Evan whirled around with a huge smile. Coming up the hill was Auntie Martha! He ran towards her, meeting her halfway. With an equally huge grin, she grabbed him up in a tight hug. “Oh, I knew you could do it! I saw the spark in you, I did!”

Confused, Evan blinked as she pulled away, hands resting on his shoulders. “Spark?” Tani had said something about that, and the Pirates had, too. What did they all mean?

“Aye, dear,” She said, gently tweaking the tip of one ear. “The spark of leadership. I knew you’d get this far, and when Niall sent word you were building a Kingdom, I had to come see and—oh!” Auntie Martha threw her hands up at the sight of Nella behind Evan, quickly crossing the short distance between them to grab Nella up in a hug as well. “Look at you! You’re all better now!”

Nella seemed as startled as Evan had ever seen her. It took her a moment to recover, at which point she slowly patted Auntie Martha’s back. “In no small part thanks to the herbs you gave us, Auntie Martha,” She said as the older woman pulled away. “I don’t think I would have made it to the healers without them.”

“Oh, pish-posh,” Auntie Martha said, cupping Nella’s face for just a second before she patted her cheeks. “All those did were make it easier to bear. It was your strength that got you where you needed to go, and don’t you forget it!”

Nella smiled. “I’ll try not to,” She said, “Though I’m certain you’ll all remind me anyway.”

“Count on it.” Martha said with one last pat. “Now, I’d best be getting back to rounding these lazy bums up--Oi!” She shouted at a group of Sky Pirates leaning on crates down below, making them jump clean out of their skin. “I see you lot slacking off! Back to work!”

And then she was gone back down the hill, shouting orders and getting the Sky Pirates back into working order. Batu whistled lowly. Roland slowly shook his head.

“She’s really something. I almost feel sorry for them.” He said in an impressed tone of voice. Niall laughed.

“Aye, that’s Martha for ye. She was the first to answer the call.” He turned to look at Evan. “She saw the same spark in ye that I do, son. Callin’ all these folk was the least I could do for ye helpin’ me to get me auld forest back.”

“Thank you so much, Niall,” He said as he made his way back to the group, sure his face would break if he smiled any wider. “This is more than I could have ever hoped for!”

It was true; while he knew that Nella would always have his back, the support of so many others…it made him feel like the whole of the world was standing behind him. Which was a silly thought since there were maybe a few dozen people down there and he hadn’t made a single proper ally yet, but it was still enough to warm his heart.

“Oh, think nothin’ of it.,” Niall said with an indulgent smile, “I ask only the teensy-weensiest of favors in return.”

“Of course!” Evan said. “What is it?”

“That ye make me yer Minister of Finance.”

Minister of Finance? Evan tilted his head. That was the head of the department that would handle incoming and outgoing funds, wasn’t it? They had no need for that station now, but perhaps after…well. He couldn’t see the harm in it.

“Consider it done, Niall—” Evan stopped himself and corrected, “Minister Niall.”

“Just don’t gamble this kingdom away, too,” Roland said with a tiny smirk. A laugh rippled through the little group, even Niall joining in with a raspy laugh of his own.

“Oh, don’t ye worry none. Me gamblin’ days are far behind me now.”

“Glad to hear it.” Roland said honestly. He looked from head to head. “But if we're going to be appointing ministers now, then...I suppose that makes Batu our Minister of Defense?”

Minister of Defense. Evan wracked his brain to try and remember what that position meant, but then--ah! Leader of the armies and keeping the people safe from outside threat! Yes, that fit Batu very well. Especially considering that most if not all of their fighting force was Sky Pirates, and fealty to him or not they still looked to Batu most of the time. Still Evan nodded his approval.

"Yes," He said with a smile, "That would be a very good fit, don't you agree, Minister Batu?"

Batu threw his head back and laughed. "No need to be all fancy with me, lad," He said, clearly ignoring Nella giving him an unimpressed look. "But if this Minister of Defense deal means I'm the one in charge of all the clobberin', I like the sound o' it a great deal indeed!"

Evan swallowed back a snicker, but Tani wasn't quite so polite. She laughed so hard her entire body shook! Roland rolled his eyes, but it was with a half smile that he turned to Evan, cupping his chin in one hand. “And I guess I could be…an adviser. I have a little experience running a country,” His smile turned rueful. “I’m sure I can help out here and there.”

Because being what amounted to a King in his world was a little experience. A sharp curl of amusement forced Evan to swallow back another laugh as he shook his head and cleared his throat. It was time to be serious.

“No.” Evan said firmly, “You shall be my Chief Consul. It’s become very clear to me that I have much left to learn, and I’m no politician, Roland. I shall need your help.”

All amusement faded from Roland’s face. Something dark passed through his eyes, a distance that was there and gone in the space between heartbeats. Evan would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching the man’s face so closely and his heart twisted. He’d meant the offer and refused to take the words back, but would Roland accept? He’d made his own offer to stay and help before, but with Nella healed he had no real reason to stay. Certainly no real reason to feel guilty about leaving them now. He’d be free to search for his own way home and had no reason to be tangled up with them any longer. Maybe Evan should have said as much, dismissed him to seek his way back.

But something in his heart just wasn’t ready to let Roland go yet, even if he didn’t quite know how to say that.

“That’s…that’s very kind of you, Evan,” Roland finally said in a soft voice, “I just…I’m not sure if I’ll be…”

Something was making him hesitate. Whatever he’d faced before he appeared in Ding Dong Dell, perhaps? Or something before that? They never had talked about what Roland had left behind. What sort of life had he lived? Did he have a family, a home? What had given him the experience he had? Evan wondered about the answers to those questions, but he knew that this wasn’t the time for doubts. He knew that much because Roland had already taught him that much. They had to press on.

“It’s the King’s job to appoint his ministers, correct?” He asked, and when Roland nodded he returned the gesture. “Then I hereby appoint you Chief Consul. I’m certain you’ll do a fine job.”

Roland turned to look at him then, holding his gaze for a long moment. Evan didn’t look away, firm in his belief that he was appointing the right man to the job, and slowly, Roland smiled. Evan was relieved to see that it chased away the lingering shadows in his eyes.

“Well, alright then. Chief Consul it is.” He pressed a hand to his heart and bowed at the waist, just enough to put him eye level with Evan. “By royal appointment.”

Evan beamed at him. Then, finally, he turned to the one person who had been with him since the very start of it all.

“And, Nella…” He paused, unsure. He knew she would help Roland without even being asked, but there had to be something he could do to repay her for all the years she had stood unflinchingly at his side. Even as he had the thought, he knew he didn’t really need to.

“Things between us can stay as they were, Evan,” Nella soothed with a soft smile. “Though, truly, you’ve little need of a governess any longer.”

“That’s true,” Roland said, “You’re acting like a leader now. It’s good to see.”

It was, wasn’t it? Evan smiled. “I finally feel like one,” He admitted, tail softly waving behind him. “I’m still not sure if I’m ready for the job, but…I have to try.” He looked over the rest of the group, all of his closest companions. Though all could have left whenever they’d wanted, they’d stood by him. He could never repay them for that. “Thank you all for being so patient with me. I’ll my best for your sakes…and for mine.”

“Flip, mun!” Lofty shouted, utterly breaking the moment. “I almost forgot! If we’re buildin’ a kingdom, we need a proper tidy name for the place, en’t it? To make things official, like.”

Evan nodded.“I’ve been thinking about that for a while now, actually. And I’ve decided to call our kingdom…” He took a deep breath and looked once more at his truest companions. With a smile, he spoke.

“Evermore.”

#nnk2 #ni no kuni 2 #nnk2 fic #!fic #fic: for king and country

[paper-allert]

A proud Jin Ling

#mdzs #jin ling #mdzsart #金凌 #魔道祖师 #will I ever get tired to draw this young lad? #who knows #heavily insiperd by Giovanni Boldini

[moon-beam95]

After Class, You're Mine.

Fandom: Fate: Winx Saga

Pairing: Saul Silva/Reader

Rating: Explicit

After the freshmen specialists began to disperse his eyes were drawn to a young woman with a sultry pout on her lips.

'Well my classes are finished, ' she trailed off, stepping closer peering up through her lashes at the headmaster, 'and I've never shied away from hard work.'

A groan slipped pasted his lips, before stepping back and rubbing a hand across his stubble.

Unwittingly his actions drew her gaze and she wet her lips, eyes clouding as she remembered exactly how it felt between her thighs the last time they met.

A huff of laughter saw her gaze up at him in faux innocence as he crossed his arms, making the muscles bulge ever so slightly and an eyebrow raised. He jerked his head silently telling her to follow. They walked in relative silence to his office. He pushed open the door, gesturing for her to enter and locked the door behind her.

Neither could say who moved first just that they were suddenly pressed against each other kissing fervently. He walked her backwards to his desk, silently thanking that he'd bothered to tidy it, lifting her up and setting her down.

'here's me thinking you'd forgotten about me'

He scoffed, arms caging her in, 'as if I could, the freshmen just need a lot more work than usual. Soft lads the lotta them.'

He leaned forwards capturing your lips, flicking his tongue at the seam demanding entrance. You made breathy moans as you lost yourself in his kiss. Slowly he pulled back, eyes staring intensely into yours.

'Don't think for one second you haven't plagued my mind Fairy. Alls I can think of is how much I want to kiss you'

He presses a brief kiss back on yours lips before ghosting his lips down your neck, pausing ever so often to pepper kisses on the exposed collarbone. Meanwhile his strong, calloused hands trail up your sides sending shivers down your spine.

'To touch you'

He lowers himself into his chair and presses a kiss to your ankle before steadily moving up nipping and sucking.

'To taste you. To claim you again, and again, and again til the only thought running through your head is of me.'

He nuzzles your thigh and you hiss as the stubble pricks your tender skin.

He runs his fingers over her underwear letting out an audible groan of appreciation at how wet she is before hooking his fingers round the sides and drawing down her legs to which he pocketed them for later.

He descends upon her like a starving man, he never could get enough of her. And she was right it had been too long since he could sate himself between her thighs. He missed it all, her taste, her scent, how she weaves her fingers into his hair urging him closer. How she begs and pleads for more, til she freezes, back arched her greedy hole trying to suck him deep as she all but rides his face.

He pulls back, face shining, filled with a mixture of pride and awe at both how she looks and the fact that it was he who made her so. Any other time he'd gladly let her reciprocate but damn if all he didn't want was to bury himself inside her. So he did.

He hurriedly fishes his cock out of his pants not bothering to undress, just grabs himself in one hand, braces himself on the table with the other and slides home, both letting out deep groans.

He wasn't going to last too long, he thought, as he buries his face in her neck, biting lightly at her pulse wanting to mark her for all to see. A whimper breaks him out of his thoughts.

'P.. Please, Saul, please.' she begs hands clutching at his back needing more, needing less, just plain needing.

He pauses his thrusting, smirking as she whimpers once more. 'Please, what?' silence reigns, just breathy moans as she attempts to find some friction. 'Come on baby girl, use your words.'

She huffs sulking, before abandoning all pretense and pleads, 'Please. Please fuck me.'

'There's a good girl'

He fucks into her harder, faster than before, reveling in the feeling of her heat surrounding him, the feel of her. They move in tandem, a dance of which they had done many times.

Somewhere along the line she had lost all coherent thought and seemed only to remember how to beg and moan.

He brings a hand to her face, pressing two fingers to her lips and telling her to suck. She parts her lips, tongue darting out to lap and the digits before curing around them drawing them into her hot cavern.

He moans, he knows exactly what that talented mouth can do.

'Fuck, ' he breaths, 'such a good girl.'

In response she sucks at his fingers more, aiming to get them as wet as possible. He pulls the back, leaving her pouting before snaking said hand between them to encircle her clit. He determinedly rubbed her clit, moving in rapid circles to bring her to the brink. He feels it before all else, her cunt trying to milk him dry, before she positively wails and falls, boneless onto his desk. He fucks into her, snarling as he clamps onto her neck, once, twice before spilling inside of her. He carrys on pumping into her wanting to fuck her full.

She smiles at him with glassy, unseeing eyes before reaching a hand out to stroke his face.

He pulls out slowly, watching as cum began to trickle out of her swollen cunt.

She sits up wobbly, and with a wry grin says 'When you said claim I didn't think you would be quite so literal.'

But he doesn't hear, instead he surveys his handiwork, from her swollen lips to her marked up necked, down to her hard nipples and her utterly wrecked cunt his cock twitches in interest. Clearly he wasn't tired.

She smirks lightly before pushing herself to stand up and then pushes him into his chair. This time is different, it's not a hurried ferocious thing but one of deep hard thrusts and slow grinding.

He let's out an ouf she straddles his lap.

She tenderly caresses his face, her magic instinctively reacts to her desires, and vines slowly reach out curling around his legs and up to his wrists binding him to his chair.

She steadies herself with a hand on his shoulder before raising herself up til just the tip is still inside her before sinking down. Head thrown back, moaning as she's filled, the position grants a deeper penetration. She grinds on his lap, taking what she needs, her movements are slow and steady, just wanting to feel him. Their climax builds just as slow but creeps upon them and they both shudder to a stop. She let's out a little giggle before pecking him on the lips. She opens her mouth to say-

-Ben bursts through the door, in his usual hurried manner, shouting about a burnt one only to freeze at the picture before him.

He stammers out an apology slapping a hand over his eyes.

Saul growls at the interruption, not embarrassed at all. You though, your flushed and quickly stand before scrambling for your clothes.

'Er, arnt you forgetting something' Saul draws.

You turn confused before you realise you've left him tied up. You squeak out an apology, while your eyes glow and the vines recede. He tuck himself in and heads to his weapons locker.

He straps two swords to his back, checks his knife holsters, telling Ben to 'relax, its hardly the worse position you've found us in.'

Ben groans in reply 'Please don't remind me,' as he peeks hesitantly through his finger before giving a sigh of relief.

Saul slides his final weapon into place before cupping your face and dropping a brief kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter close at the fleeting contact.

'Go,' you whisper. 'I'll help ready the med bay.'

'Be safe,' you shout after them both, a heavy feeling settling in your stomach as you watch them race out to the barrier edge.

#fate: the winx saga #winx smut #Winx club smut #saul silva #saul silva smut #Saul smut #Saul Silva/Reader #Saul Silva imagine #Saul Silva fanfic #Saul Silva fanfiction #Saul Silva drabble #rob james collier #Robert James collier smut #Robert James collier/reader #Robert James collier fanfic #Robert James collier drabble

[sopxhiea]

Rules

Alfie Solomons X Friends with Benefits!Reader

Summary: She’s known as a dancer in a high end club but he’s known her for not so long. She decides the rules, he goes along with them but sometimes, he’s the one making the rules.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

It’s late. 

Late enough to hear the dogs howling in the groggy streets of London as the black sky decorated the horizon. The room was quiet, only the sound of breathing filling the hollow walls of the apartment. The silence wasn’t unusual and it was more than welcomed. The owner wasn’t home, a familiar body was standing in the spacious entrance.

You weren’t home yet.

Feeling the soft material of the lacy undergarment residing around your upper thighs, you looked around to see who was still in the club. It was close to the weekend which meant that it was getting busier than usual. Men were mostly drunk or intoxicated by the movements of the ladies around. There was no one to entertain in the club anymore so you moved towards the interior rooms to get ready to leave.

The space was decorated with mirrors, make up clutter right in front of them as some of the girls packed the last of their garments to leave. The sun would approach soon, sunlight beaming through the groggy city but you hoped to make it home before then. Slowly gathering your stuff and stuffing them all in your bag, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

The club wasn’t the usual, much like you.

It was a place for rich lads, some aristocracy and the kind of men that had to be served in private rooms because of how high they were up in the pyramid scheme. Most of the work you did was talking, some dancing here and there and you were done. Nothing ever got physical since it wasn’t a brothel, but a place for fine entertainment.

The make-up was off, your natural skin color glowing under the countless bulbs that decorated the mirror. The club was mostly empty now, car sounds no longer audible. It was dead silent outside, the hour when the city would be asleep and you’d walk home on your own. It was a treat to say the least.

The cold weather attacked your skin a bit too quickly as you made your way down the street. Your flat wasn’t too far from the club, just perfect distance for a night walk. It was dangerous in the streets, especially for a lady like yourself but you had a gun hidden in your bag and a long needle that held your bun together and you knew your way around both of those tools.

The night seemed quiet as you walked, no sounds of chatter but a few drunken lads from a couple blocks away. You hugged your coat a little tighter and realized that you were less tired than usual.

-----

The inside of the house was quiet, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked through the corridor. Your dresses were on the floor, a couple mugs here and there sitting on the piles of books. He saw a nightgown and your knickers on the floor and decided that you had gone to the club a little later than usual. As far as he was concerned, everything was normal.

The sound of keys jiggling outside the door made him turn towards the entrance and before he knew it, you pushed the door open with a gun in your hand that was pointed at him. Your breathing was even and the gun in your hand didn’t shake in the slightest.

He greeted you with a smile.

You lowered the gun down in a swift motion when you realized who it was. He was wearing his usual smile, broad as he walked towards you with dense eyes. He was wearing the usual attire but his prayer shawl was missing and you realized it was past saturday.

There he was, the handsome stranger.

He wasn’t so much of a stranger really, not since he’d made you chant his name until the sun was down and you had to go to work. He knew the way your body responded, what you liked in the bedroom and just how to kiss you to make you beg. 

He didn’t know anything about your family, where you’d spent your childhood or the way you’d silently pray each time you saw a shadow. Alfie didn’t know what meals you cooked, how you liked your tea or anything past your occupation and name and where you lived. 

He didn’t need to. 

And he wasn’t allowed to.

“What the fuck happened to sayin’ ‘ello, pet?” he said with an amused face that you didn’t mirror. You were still a bit tired from work and he never came over afterhours.

Those were the rules.

He was allowed to come anytime before your work and never after you’d just arrived home. He would usually call before and let you know. He wasn’t allowed to buy you things or take you out, even though he’d stayed over a couple times before. You knew limited information and about him and he the same, and he wasn’t allowed to break any of the rules.

“Sorry. I’m just a little..” you spoke with a soft tone and he could hear the tiredness seeping from your limbs as he took a look at you.

You looked tired but beautiful nevertheless.

Your figure was a bit slumped, the kind of tiredness that came from working too hard and not because he was the one tiring you out. You weren’t wearing any make-up or fancy clothes, it was his favorite version of you. He didn’t like all the make-up you had to wear for the club or the fancy lingerie but he had no say in any of the things you did. You had made that painfully clear for him.

“Ya’ alright?” he asked while walking towards you, voice a little concerned at your state but you were a bit too tired to care.

And you wanted to hug him, really badly.

Alfie was very rough around the edges, far too rude at first sight for any lady but it would take a split second to realize that he wasn’t rude at all, that was just the way he was. He brushed shoulders with gangsters, people of the underworld who had to do dirty things to get food on their table. He had blood in his hands and for a man of his kind, he was a gentle one.

You immediately leaned a bit closer when his hand came into contact with your shoulder.

“Fine.” you nodded, little bits of your hair framing your face and Alfie leaned in even closer, standing right in front of you with his hand on your hip.

“Do you want anythi-” you started speaking in a softer voice than normal and Alfie felt himself melt a little but his eyes didn’t leave yours.

“Nah,’m fine, pet.” he said, in a low whisper. He was very gentle at that moment, almost like in a daze.

He had met you in a very unusual way.

You had crashed into him, face on his chest one day when you were out buying groceries. The flowers in your hand were crushed when you bumped into him and he had no time to apologize before you’d started screaming at him for being so careless. He’d listened you shout while thinking about how lovely you were and then asked you out for tea that very same day.

You had said yes and then somehow ended up on his bed. You’d left without saying goodbye but then bumped into him a couple weeks later. He had talked charmingly the whole time and then it happened again, again and then once more before you established some rules so that he didn’t think this was more than a stress relief situation.

“What are you-” you started talking again with his face closer to yours but he interrupted you soon, speaking softly against your irritated face.

“I had a fuckin’ job, right, jus’ around the fuckin’ corner so I figured..” he spoke but trailed off with a smile and you finished it for him.

“So you figured you’d have a quick fuck-” your smile was less evident as you looked at him while speaking.

“A visit, lass. A fuckin’ visit is what ‘m here for, innit.” he said, interrupting you once more and he saw your blood boil which only aroused him.

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” your voice was stern as you looked up at the man. He was twice your size yet you did all the ordering around.

He didn’t mind.

He had been with his share of women, mostly in brothels but he’d usually leave out that part. He loved women, that was a given but he had never grown fond of one before. You had seem like the polar opposite of him when you’d first met and all that did was to draw him even further. He didn’t like the warmth that spread through his chest when he saw you, it made him feel young and defenseless again.

“Sorry, pet.” he said, face even closer to yours now. You knew what he was here for but it didn’t fit the rules, you had no problem sending him home.

“You came here for what?” you spoke against his lips, not kissing him just yet but simply teasing. He was a sucker for that.

He smiled when your fingers caressed his cheek and your lips almost touched his. He wasn’t here for a fuck this time, he had simply dropped off. He had business around the corner with a butcher’s shop that was causing him some trouble and realized that you’d be home soon.

He also wanted to ask you a question but that would come later.

“To see ya’.” he said, simple as that while your lips ghosted over his. Your eyes were locked into his and he didn’t seem to be lying from the way his face relaxed.

“Hm.” you said, humming before you leaned closer to plan your lips on his.

The kiss was slow, not the usual teeth against teeth you had with him. His hands were on your waist while yours resided on his chest and cheek. He was savoring the moment since this was rare with you, very rare. You wanted some relief on most days and that’s when you’d see him, not when you wanted a hug or a small chat.

But you weren’t complaining in the slightest.

You broke the kiss, a bit hesitant at first while staring at his lips. He was searching for your eyes when you parted but you wouldn’t look with the fear of him catching something in there. You slowly walked away from him, taking your long coat off and throwing it on the sofa. The house was a mess but that was the usual. All you and Alfie did was fuck anyway so the only place he would be concerned with was the bed.

You sat down on the chair in the corner of the room and looked at him, standing near the entrance with his broad form. He was here for something, you could tell but he wasn’t so keen on giving it to you. It wasn’t like you were dying to know but Alfie was not someone who’d usually ask for anything, let alone anything from you.

All he would ask was a fuck and that was the arrangement.

“You’re gonna talk?” you said, watching as he made his way to the corner you were sitting on and sat on the sofa next to you.

He didn’t speak for a while. His hand tugged at his beard while he looked at you, lost in thought. He wasn’t really looking at you but through you, which was unusual considering he was one of the first people to ever see you for who you were. You didn’t like to think about it, he was good in bed and that’s all you were concerned with.

“Ya’ hear what’s goin’ on in these fuckin’ streets?” he asked, head motioning outside for a split second before he directed all his attention to you again.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you spoke, not a care in the world as he looked at you. “Seeing as I arrive home at this hour, no.” you said, eyes searching for his for a second before finding them.

He seemed uneasy.

“There is a fuckin’ war, yeah, a dangerous one, lass and it ain’t gonna look pretty for ya’ when they realize ya’ fuckin’ know me.” he said, measuring each and every word.

You didn’t know why he cared.

In your eyes, you were just a woman he fucked. There were no strings, no seeing each other romantically or any kind of involvement. You weren’t his, not by any means and he wasn’t yours. You’d speak to him if you saw him outside but there was no other involvement other than being with each other for stress relief. For all you knew, he was still making regular visits to the brothel.

But he wasn’t.

He had stopped right after he had first met you. He still had his needs but you were more than capable of taking care of him if he were to knock on your door. He knew the rules, was very well aware of the lines you’d drawn for him but he’d still protect you. Not because you were his fuckbuddy but because he genuinely cared about your wellbeing, even if that wasn’t allowed.

You smiled at him at first, almost felt like he was mocking you. Why did he care? You tilted your head to the side and spoke with an amused voice as he looked at you with concern in his eyes, not something you were used to seeing. He still listened as you spoke. “Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

He shook his head with an amused chuckle. You really had no idea. The Italians didn’t know of you yet but if they followed Alfie enough times, they could easily make out the equation. He looked at your still form for a moment and spoke, saying what he’d been wanting to say since he arrived and you saw the weight being lifted off his shoulders.

“I can fuckin’ protect ya’, pet, if ya’ come live near me, that is.” he said, word by word and he saw your face change.

It was absurd.

“No.” you said, not even taking a minute to think about it as you looked at him. Before he said anything else, you spoke up again with a shaking head. You were still seated, less angry than he’d expect you to be. “I can’t move away from work and I don’t even know how to find another apartment at this time.” you spoke, voicing all your concerns.

He was a gangster and knew the ropes better than you so you opted on trusting him. If it turned out to be a mistake, you would blame it all on him but you didn’t want to get killed because you’d been fucking some bloke. Except that he wasn’t some bloke and he had his own gang.

“I got that figured ou’, I did, yeah.” he spoke to you while leaning back on the sofa. You looked at him with a curious expression. He was amused at it for a second before speaking up again, hand tugging at his beard. “I got ya’ a fuckin’ place of yer own, near where I fuckin’ live, pet...” he said and watched your eyes burn.

Who did he think he was?

The rules were clear and your blood was boiling because this man was breaking every one of them. He wouldn’t care if you were dead, you had thought but the more he spoke, the more you changed your mind. He had already taken care of everything without even asking you and he heard you scoff while his words still filled your ear.

“I’ll have one of the lads to fuckin’ drive you..” he said, done with what he was saying and you snapped back immediately.

“You’ll have someone drive me in the evening and pick me up at 4 in the morning from a gentlemen’s club?” you spoke, eyes stern as they bore into his.

He just nodded.

You scoffed once more and got up, hand on your hip as you paced through the room. He just watched. He could see the questions forming as you looked at him every now and then as you paced. There was a look of panic in your eyes as you walked through the corridors and realized that he was probably right at having you move, you could easily be killed. Even if you weren’t seeing him, it was common for someone to be killed just because they were living in a dangerous area.

“Will they kill me?” you said, and spoke once more before he could answer. “If I don’t move, I mean..... Will I die?” you said, eyes wide with confusion and panic.

So he spoke up almost immediately, not liking your frantic eyes as he was used to seeing your calm features after a good fuck. “I won’t have that fuckin’ happen-”

“But If I refuse to move?” you said, waiting for him to properly answer the question with hand on your hip. He knew you were measuring all the possibilities.

“I ain’t gonna lie to ya’, pet, ‘s very possible, it ‘s.” he said while looking at you. He was still sitting in front of you.

He watched you nod.

This didn’t change anything in your eyes. It wouldn’t mean that you were dependent on him or that he would have any power over you. You’d just be protected and the chances of you getting killed because of him would decrease. You measured it all in your mind and realized that it was probably for the best.

“Fine.”

------

His movements were fast, feral almost as his skin came into contact with yours every other second. The bed creaked, not too loud while your panting filled the room. Hands holding onto him by the shoulders, you let out a shaky exhale when he adjusted the angle. His hair was messy as it fell on his forehead, moving each time he thrusted into you.

“Fuck.” you whispered against his lips when he started moving faster, hand on his back and neck while his remained on your waist.

He groaned against your neck with each movement, holding your legs up on his knees in the process. A thin layer of sweat was apparent on your skin even though it was freezing outside. You watched him lift his head, facial expression covered in bliss while the morning light hit his face.

It had been a week since you’d moved into the apartment and 4 of those days had been spent with you and him testing the new bed. You had gotten a new one for yourself and he’d joked about how you’d have to break into it so that it was comfortable and you had given him one look and there you were, four days later with your legs wrapped around him.

Your back arched off the bed the faster he became and he was soon becoming erratic, gasping for air and you felt your body slowly tense and give in. Your hands dug into his back as he moved, reaching his climax soon after. He stayed like that for a while while you regained your breath, feeling your body grow tired with each passing hour. You swallowed as he slid out of you and collapsed next to you on the bed.

The rules were still in place.

You stared at the ceiling while he stared at you while laying on his stomach next to you. Your hair was messy, the tie no longer holding it together and tangles here and there. He watched your heaving chest, breath a little lost as you locked your lips. 

And then you turned to him.

His eyes had already been on you but you hadn’t realized. He was staring, not gawking but looking with some sort of softness in his gaze. You didn’t smile as you inspected him and the way he was looking at you. You didn’t do the same to him, feeling yourself grow a bit too uneasy at the feeling of being watched.

And if you looked for too long, you were afraid you’d get lost.

Slowly lifting your body off of the mattress and sitting next to him, you came to realize that most of your lower body had gotten sore in between days of tidying and arranging the new flat and Alfie not wasting a second to get you alone so that he could spend the rest of the day tiring you out even further. 

He watched your hair fall across your back when you got up, messy from the events that had just taken place. You were not wearing anything so you grabbed your cardigan and wrapped it around your body when you got up. The whole time, he just watched as you moved around your new space.

It already felt like home.

He’d spent most of the days either helping you out or making sure that the lads didn’t damage any of the furniture or simply making you pant on the bed. It had been wonderful if he was honest, he wasn’t as angry and there was no feeling of uneasiness in his chest. He still saw dangerous man from day to day but knowing that you’d be home before you left for work, telling the lads how to put the sofa made him feel look forward to the time he’d get to see you.

He didn’t think much of it, or so he convinced himself that he didn’t.

“Alfie.” you said, you had been speaking to him but he was in his head so he hadn’t heard.

“Huh, what, luv?” he said, lifting himself off of the mattress and sitting on the soft material instead.

“You want tea?” you said, licking your lips while standing next to the door’s frame with nothing but a cardigan on. 

“Hm.” he said, nodding as he got up to put his pants on. He didn’t dress himself any further even though it was cold outside, he felt warm after laying on the bed with you.

He walked towards the kitchen to see you waiting for the water to boil. You looked at him when he appeared on the door and you gave him a gentle smile which he returned with a warmer heart. He walked next to you while you poured the water in the tea cups and his hand met your hip, squeezing gently.

This was not something you usually did.

In the last week, the lines had become blurred. It was hard to tell what he was to you. He had found you an apartment and had even picked you up in the morning when you were done. You had joked around with him during the ride and he’d even made jokes to make you smile, he had succeeded, too.

You shuddered a little when his lips met the space between your ear. He knew your body like the back of his hand, no matter how much you’d want to deny it. You kept your eyes on the water that was pouring out to the cups but his lips had your attention.

“Alfie, I’m gonna burn myself.” you said, in a breathy voice and he stopped with a smile. You didn’t even see his lips soften but you knew he was smiling.

After putting the tray on the table that resided in the middle of the living room, you sat on the soft chair you had brought from your previous place. He sat on the sofa on the opposite corner while waiting for the tea to cool down. He wanted to say something, it was hanging at the back of his mouth but he couldn’t get the words to come out.

And you so took it upon yourself to make him.

“If you wanna say something, just say it.” you said, almost a whisper but he had heard since the rooms were silent. You wore an annoyed expression that he often saw but it only amused him further.

He wanted to ask you if you’d work today and he already knew the answer.

He didn’t like it, the sticky feeling in his stomach each time you would go to work. He had no say in what you did, either for work or on the daily and he knew that but it only stirred him further. There was the fear of you getting hurt but he knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.

And then, there was the other issue that wouldn’t leave his mind.

Other men got to see you in fancy lingerie, things that didn’t cover you up all the way and it made him mad. He didn’t quite know why, just that he was annoyed with the whole thing. He wouldn’t say it but you’d see the relief on his face when you’d be back from work or when he’d come to pick you up. He had been fucking you a little more carefully lately, ever since you’d moved in closer to him. He was almost tender, painfully soft with you when you’d let him show you a good time. It wasn’t the animalistic, rough Alfie you were used to but there was complaint, only curiosity.

He didn’t speak, just hand tugging at his beard and you knew he’d wait until the day was over and you’d be back from work to see him still in the same position. “You’ve been in me, Alfie, I won’t get mad.” you spoke, almost sensing the reason for his hesitation and his eyes locked into yours when you were done speaking. 

He figured he’d trust your word.

“Yer goin’ to work?” he asked and saw your features change.

You knew why he was asking but that didn’t change anything.

You had a vague idea as to why he had been more gentle with you lately, why he kissed you deeper than usual and why he insisted on giving you hickeys even though you’d told him not to on numerous occasions. He was more touchy, almost always around with the excuse of ‘making sure you were settled in’. You were just a girl but you weren’t stupid.

And this wasn’t something you could allow.

Men got jealous, they got protective and thought they had some sort of power over you the moment you’d become ��� their girl’. You hated that anyway, being someone’s girl and knowing how dangerous Alfie’s line of business could be, you didn’t see sense in pursuing the possibility of anything happening with the man. You shook your head and he watched you lick your lips before you spoke.

“Yes, I am.” you said nonchalantly, as if you were trying to tell him that no matter how much he’d ask, you still wouldn’t want it. “You don’t need to pick me up.” you said, expressionless as he looked at your standing yet somehow small form. You hugged the cardigan tighter as he spoke, he watched you put some things into space. Things he’d knocked out of its place when he had been feverishly kissing you.

“I fuckin’ will, though.” he said, eyes stern as he looked at your face. You were a little taken aback but no evident sign of surprise.

“You don’t have to.” you said again, agitated with his need to make sure you were alright when all you needed him for was a quick fuck.

It didn’t work like this, not with you so you wouldn’t entertain the chance of being with him.

“I want to, lass, yeah, so I fuckin’ will.” he said one last time before getting up to walk towards you.

He would be jealous, you told yourself. He wouldn’t like the fact that other people were able to see you in such little clothing, you thought and he certainly wouldn’t appreciate the little dances you would give. Sure, he was a good fuck but he was also a cruel gangster and the balance seemed almost even.

Almost.

You walked away the moment his breath his your face and made your way to the bedroom to tidy up. There were clothes on the floor and books everywhere, you grabbed one and put it on the shelf and he was right behind you when you turned back.

“Alfie, move.” you said, not able to penetrate through his large form as he blocked your way.

“Tell me.” he said, finger under your chin as he lifted your face so you were looking at him.

“Tell you what?”

“Why?” his voice was a whisper as he looked at your small form, chin still between his fingers as his eyes bored into yours.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the question as he looked at your face, Why what? you thought. The question had so many ways of ending and yet, only one question popped into your mind.

Why were you still going to work? Why, when he was the one keeping your bed warm?

You didn’t answer, you didn’t know if there was an answer. It would not work, he would be a jealous man, jealous of the other ones that got to see you in work and it would get unbearable like it always would with any relationship you had. You didn’t say anything and walked away, he just watched.

He left soon after that, not a word or a forehead kiss like he’d usually give you. He wasn’t hurt or broken by anything, he was just waiting for you to make up your mind. The words had stirred something in you, he had seen that when you had looked at him. He just needed an answer now.

Laying on the bed as you watched the street lights dance on the ceiling, you realized you had the answer.

But it would put you in a lot of danger.

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

A/n: Hi!! This was something that had been in drafts for a while now so i wanted to post it at last. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know if you’d like another chapter!!

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons scenario #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons series #alfie solomons fluff #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x shelby!reader #peaky blinders #alfie solomons peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders scene #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fiction #tom hardy x reader

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

shelter me from winter’s bite

Everyone’s doing a hypothermia fic so I figured I may as well contribute. It’s one of my favorite tropes.

title taken from Brian Czyzyk’s poem “Hoarfrost” (he’s my favorite young queer poet and you should check him out).

tw: hypothermia, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending

---

“Do you always have to be so damnably loud?” Geralt growls, glaring at Jaskier from across the small room. 

“My apologies for existing,” the bard snaps back. He’d only been rearranging his pack, looking for something reasonably clean to sleep in while his clothes were laundered by the innkeeper’s lovely wife. “I’ll try to do so more quietly from now on, good sir.”

Geralt huffs out a breath in passive-aggressive annoyance and Jaskier bristles. 

“Oh well, then. C’mon witcher, I know you want to say it!”

“Say what?” Geralt asks. His voice is low and threatening. He’s ready to play the game and by god he’s going to win this time.  

“It’s practically your motto at this point,” the bard hisses through his teeth, angry and bitter and tired. Geralt sees victory. Sees some peace and quiet on the horizon. “Say it!”

Geralt does as he’s told, like any good witcher would: “Fuck off, bard.”

“There it is!” Jaskier laughs joylessly, throwing up his hands. He pulls on his doublet and boots and heads for the door. “If you want me gone so badly, Geralt, then I will go. I’ll get out of your lovely white hair and leave you to mope in peace.”

“Fucking finally,” the witcher snarls, turning away. He doesn’t see the genuine hurt in Jaskier’s blue eyes as the bard quietly closes the door rather than slamming it. He doesn’t hear the quiet sob that rips its way out of Jaskier’s throat as he stands very still, shocked and suddenly exhausted all the way to his bones. He doesn’t smell the salt of his bard’s tears as he slips silently down the hallway and out into the late autumn night. He doesn’t notice the snow starting to pile up on the windowsill ahead of season.

He’s too busy being a self-flagellating moron to notice any of that.

---

Geralt is woken in the middle of the night by a commotion downstairs. He can hear several loud, panicked heartbeats and one very quiet, very slow heartbeat beneath all of those; it’s achingly familiar but the half-asleep witcher can’t quite call its source to mind. Geralt listens as the innkeeper barks out a series of sharp orders: “Meredith, you get to the kitchen and make some strong black tea! Florence, fetch a pail of warm water and two or three towels from the laundry. Josiah you lazy lout, get into the attic and fetch some blankets! The poor lad has gone blue all over!”

The witcher peers into the hallway and catches the skinny stable hand, Josiah, racing for the attic staircase. “What’s going on?”

“A farmer from the next town over was on his way over to help a friend’s sow give calf and he found-” the lad pauses to suck in a great gulp of air and launches off again “-and he found that friend of yours lying in a snowbank, muttering nonsense and shivering like a leaf. The poor fool didn’t have a cloak on him or anything, just a doublet and walking boots! He’s near-dead!”

Geralt curses and makes for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he reaches the main floor. There are voices coming from the kitchen and he follows them as if in a dream, his feet moving without aid of his conscious mind. “Jaskier? Is it the bard, Jaskier?”

“Are you the great brute what kicked him out?” the innkeeper’s wife asks, crossing her arms over her ample chest and narrowing her eyes. Geralt falters. 

“No, he- he left on his own, in a huff.”

“Wonder who could have started the huff,” the woman rolls her eyes. This isn’t about his status as a witcher, Geralt knows; this eye roll was made by a woman who knows a lovers’ quarrel when she sees one. Except that this stupid little spat might have cost Jaskier his life.

“Where is he? May I see him, goodwife?”

The woman points to a table in the corner, which has been cleared of cooking implements and cushioned with a heavy bearskin. Jaskier lies atop the brown fur, his skin frighteningly pale, his lips and fingers tinted a slight blue. Geralt rushes to his side and takes one of the bard’s stiff hands in his own. He brushes a stray lock of brown hair from Jaskier’s forehead and nearly recoils in shock from the temperature of his skin. Even colder than his hands, which are already dangerously frigid. If Jaskier cannot play his lute-

Geralt doesn’t even allow himself to finish the thought. Instead he works on rubbing small, careful circles onto the back of the bard’s hands with his thumbs, warming the skin in tiny increments: “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

The bard remains unmoving, heartbeat fluttering weakly, lungs barely drawing breath; Geralt fights back an overwhelming sense of panic, trying to recall whatever training he’d received at Kaer Morhen concerning freezing humans. 

“Do you mind if I take him upstairs and tend to him myself?” the witcher asks.

“Can you take care of him?” the innkeeper’s wife replies. 

Geralt bows his head, shame licking like flames up and down his bent spine, and nods. “Yes, Ma’am. I have dry clothes for him in our room and I was trained extensively for emergency situations such as this, all witchers are.”

“Alright,” she narrows her eyes. “But he’d best be alive come morning.”

“I’ll happily turn myself over to the village elders to be dealt with accordingly should the bard come to any harm,” he vows. Her eyes widen minutely and he can read the surprise in her body language, but she remains relatively calm. 

“Any further harm, rather. Alright, then. I’ll have my husband and the girls bring those supplies up to your room for him. We’ll be glad to go back to sleep.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Geralt bows formally. She blushes despite her irritation with him and waves him away. 

“Take your bard and go, witcher, before I change my mind and spend all night caring for him myself out of motherly pity. Go.”

Geralt hefts Jaskier into his arms, heavy bearskin blanket and all, and hurries up the stairs to his room. He will not let Jaskier come to any further harm. Not by his hand. Not by his word. Never again. 

---

Back in their room, Geralt quickly undresses the shivering human, peeling away what few damp layers there are with growing disappointment. Jaskier hadn’t been prepared for a walk in the snow at all! Although, to be fair, it hadn’t seemed that cold earlier in the evening and the snow had been sudden and heavy. 

He wipes Jaskier down with a warm cloth and slips one of his own clean shirts over the bard’s head. He tries not to let his gaze linger on the way Jaskier’s shoulders don’t quite fill out the dark material. Or on the way his dark, wiry chest hair peeks out through the open laces at his throat. The witcher quickly shuffles him into clean smallclothes and wraps him in a thick wool blanket. 

They sit curled before the fire and Geralt holds Jaskier against his chest. He hums with his voice like gravel, grating out one note after the other in some attempt to soothe the bard’s aching body. Jaskier shivers and shakes violently in the witcher’s strong embrace, his eyes clenched shut with the cramps that wrack his frame as his muscles return to their normal temperature. Geralt feels like he’s holding a porcelain doll and keeps his grip deliberately loose, tight enough to comfort but not restrain.

“G-Geralt,” he groans. “Hold me, please.”

The witcher squeezes his arms more confidently around the bard’s middle, burying his face in Jaskier’s soft hair and breathing deeply. The warmth that usually emanates from his busy human body is gone and his chamomile-honey scent is buried beneath a layer of damp cold; it feels wrong. Terribly wrong. Geralt murmurs against his temple, begging the younger man’s forgiveness: “I’m so sorry, Jaskier. Gods, I’m so sorry. Will you ever be able to forgive me? I’m a fool, you know. I’m a fool witcher who never says anything important until it’s too late. I’m so incredibly sorry, my love.”

“This is a very good dream,” the bard sighs, smiling despite the pain. His eyes open, bleary and addled. “Like I was having in the woods, but better.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow and Jaskier seems to understand the unspoken question, even in his current sorry state.

“The real Geralt would never be so gentle with me, dear heart. You must be a dream, sent to me on my deathbed to ease my passage into the afterlife. There’s no other explanation for your sudden displays of tenderness.”

“It’s... It’s really me,” Geralt affirms. He runs his hand up and down the length of Jaskier’s spine, “I’m here, Jaskier. Can you ever forgive me for being so stupid?”

“I forgive you for being stupid ever other day, dear witcher. It is of no consequence to me.”

“It almost was,” Geralt frowns. “I nearly- I almost-” 

Jaskier’s arm raises weakly and his too-chilly hand presses to Geralt’s cheek. “I shouldn’t have stormed off like an idiot. I shouldn’t have kept picking the fight. We both fucked up, alright? What matters is our second chance. We got to have one, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

“Am I wearing your shirt?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Yours were all being laundered and this one was clean and it had been in my pack near the fire so it was already warm and-”

“Did you take care of me all night?”

“Hmm.” Geralt sighs after his hum and glances away for a moment. “What did you mean about... about the dream in the woods?”

“Oh. Well, when I was very cold and things were hazy and slow, I dreamed that you were there with me. Everything got very fuzzy and warm for a little bit, and when it was warm you were holding me like this and giving me little kisses. It was... nice. Even though I knew I was dying because you were being so soft, so considerate; saying things to me you’d never say out loud in real life.”

“I love you, Jaskier. I will try my best not to lose my temper needlessly,” the witcher swears. “You don’t deserve it.”

“Can we still cuddle like this?” Jaskier asks, leaning his weigth against Geralt’s firm chest. “It’s so nice to be held.”

“Of course. Anything you want. I’m not going to waste my second chance by treating you poorly. Not for another second, my beloved bard.”

“B-beloved?”

“Hmm.”

“Oh, well then I’m definitely still dreaming.”

Geralt lifts Jaskier into his arms and carries him over to the bed, which is piled high with their extra blankets. He tucks Jaskier into the nest against the wall and lays along the outside of the mattress. He presses his lips to the bard’s, reveling in Jaskier’s returning warmth, and smiles. “I’ll prove it’s not a dream. Every day.”

“Sounds nice,” Jaskier yawns, snuggling into the witcher’s arms and settling down to sleep. 

“It will be.”

#geraskier #hypothermia #getting together #bouncey's endless getting together fics #geraskier fic #geraskier fluff #whump with a happy ending #fluff with a happy ending #geralt #jaskier #jaskier whump #jaskier gets hypothermia #caring geralt #soft geralt #winter fics #geraskier winter fics

[angelofsmalldeathandthecodeine]

Disasters and Detentions

Request: “Hi! Can i please request A fred weasley x reader (I love my boy fred lol). With the angst prompt 16 and fluff prompt 12 and 9 please? Tyty i love your writing!”

(”Why do you care?”/”Oh my God! you’re in love with him”/”God, you’re so fucking cute”

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word count: 1.9k (I got excited or whateva)

A/N: These were suchhh cute prompts to work with, I really love writing the twins in a school enviroment it gives me good vibes :) ALSO this is so long but like I said before, the twins x fluff = a dream.

The Triwizard tournament was all anyone had been talking about recently, and while you could admit it was an exciting year for Hogwarts with the Yule Ball too, you couldn’t help but get tired of everyone’s eagerness – even those too young to participate.

You sat with your friend Hermione, completing work, and simultaneously watching as students in their sixth and seventh year entered their names into the goblet, each time admiring the flicker of the sapphire blue flame.

“Isn’t he dreamy” Hermione commented, gazing at Cedric Diggory who had just placed his name into the Goblet, receiving a warm welcoming from the inferno, indicating acceptance.

“I guess” you said, looking up towards harry noticing he had the exact same grin on his face as yourself. You both knew exactly what Hermione was trying to do and by the looks of Ron it had worked.

You understood why all the girls would swoon over the older, prince charming-like Cedric, but you had someone different in your thoughts…. much different.

Suddenly the room was filled with clapping and cheering as if Gryffindor had just won the Quidditch Cup.

“YESSS” you heard the raspy laughs of what could only be Fred and George, running into the hall with a test tube each. The way the light hit Fred’s copper hair as he ran towards the goblet had caught you in a trance. His Hazel eyes, his bright smile and pale complexion… it was all you could focus on.

Suddenly you were met with a hand being waved across your face which disrupted your line of sight and snapped you back into reality.

“What on earth has gotten into you” Hermione asked, with a puzzled expression on her face.

“uh, nothing just tired” you replied in an attempt to draw as little attention as possible to what was actually distracting you.

“Well lads, we’ve done it” George announced to the mass of applause “cooked it up just this morning”, as soon as you heard Fred’s voice you couldn’t help but swoon at the sound, gaining another weird look from Hermione.

“It’s not going to work” Hermione sung, in a rather condescending manner.

Before you knew it, you were inches away from Fred, who had accompanied his brother in lowering himself to yours and Hermione’s level.

“Oh yeah?” Fred asked, patronisingly back whilst leaning an arm on your shoulder. You weren’t sure what to do in that moment other than freeze and try not to make any eye contact. You could feel your palms get sweatier by the second and your breathing start to increase at a stupidly rapid rate.

“And why’s that Granger?” George then asked, with sole focus on beating Hermione in this sort of battle of ‘who’s right’.

Strangely you thought could feel Fred’s eyes, looking you up and down, which only caused your body to tense up even more than it was before.

You zoned out completely every word that Hermione spoke, only being able to pay attention to the arm that rested on your shoulder and the lips that were inches away from your face.

“Ah but that’s why it’s so brilliant” Fred said, this time you had gained some confidence to look slightly in his way to which you were then face to face with his mischievous grin.

“Because it’s so pathetically dim-witted” George over emphasised in Hermione’s scolding face, causing you to giggle like a schoolgirl.

God, how pathetically dim-witted of you.

Fred and George looked at each other before rising to their naturally giant-like height in high spirits of just winning an argument against Hermione Granger.

Whilst putting a thumb over the test tubes to shake them you couldn’t help but kind of worry about Fred. It was such a strange feeling, you knew how much of a prankster both him and his twin were, but the potion was dangerous, and not nearly as dangerous as if they managed to enter the tournament itself.

“I hope he’s alright” you accidentally mumbled under your breath, causing a slightly aggravated Hermione to snap back.

“What, Fred? Why do you care?” she replied, meeting your gaze focusing on Fred.

There was silence for what seemed like forever, you didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to make it obvious, “I don’t I just, uh, I made one of those potions myself at home, nasty things” you settled with.

Yet, you were forgetting who exactly you were talking to, they don’t call her the brightest witch for her age for no reason. Hermione looked at you, who then looked at Fred, who seemed to be looking in your direction and suddenly the light bulb inside her turned on.

“Oh my God! You’re in love with him!” Hermione gasped, giggling in the process.

“Shh Hermione!” you attempted to reduce the chances of anyone hearing the truth, especially that of Fred.

“Ready Fred?”

“Ready George”

“Bottoms up” the twins sang in unison which helped distract Hermione from the information that she had just heard. Fred and George proceeded to jump into the ring of fire that guarded the Goblet, letting out a very confident “Yesss” that got the crowd going once more.

Putting their names in the fire seemed to actually work, gaining a repeated and very smug “Yeahhh” from both the twins – yet there’s one thing you had learnt during your time at Hogwarts, and it was that Hermione was always right.

Instantaneously there was a flash of blue light and before you knew it both the twins were rolling around on the floor with white beards, rather resembling Dumbledore himself.

You couldn’t help but really belly laugh at their stupidity as the crowd chanted “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

“Detention! The both of you!” McGonagall’s voice went straight though you, yet you continued to laugh at the twins’ misfortune as she attempted to separate them.

“And I suppose you find this funny miss Y/L/N” McGonagall’s eye caught your line of sight, “then I shall see you in detention with these two buffoons”

You groaned at the thought, which seemed to only antagonise her further “Oh and since the three of you are in Gryffindor, 10 points from Gryffindor” she spoke in a high tone, which earned a groan from the majority of the room.

 \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Later that day you had found yourself in the detention hall with both Fred and George, alongside a few other misbehaving students. Don’t get me wrong, you had sat through your fair share of detentions, it was just that this year you had promised yourself that you would try and reduce the amount of time you had to spend with Professor Snape.

After what felt like an eternity, Snape put his head down to mark some work and you felt like you could finally breathe.

A paper bird landed onto your desk, bringing you back into the real world.

The note simply read:

‘I’m sorry for getting you into trouble’

You turned around discreetly to be met by Fred, who gave you a gentle smile, and in turn you were holding in quite possibly the biggest smile you have ever had before.

“God, you’re so fucking cute” you mumbled to yourself whilst reading the note, but before you knew it Fred’s message started to disappear, and the ink began to write the last words you spoke.

Of course, Fred had used magical ink. “oh no no no” you began to panic quietly, frantically trying to think of a spell that would erase the words on the note. Yet, your anxious mind only hindered your time and the note began to transform into a paper bird and fly behind you towards Fred’s seat.

You started to sink into yours, literally face palming at the thought of Fred reading those words. You were so embarrassed that right then and there you had sworn you just wouldn’t open your mouth for the rest of the year.

Since you hadn’t got another note back and you hadn’t turned around to check, you prayed that the paper bird had just got lost on the way back to him.

Once detention had finished you collected your books and rushed out of Snape’s classroom, faster than you ever had before.

“Oi! Y/N! where you off too?” Fred’s voice unexpectedly called after you, causing you to freeze in your tracks.

“Just uh, the common room” you replied without looking back to face him, maybe everything was alright after all, and maybe Fred really hadn’t seen your note.

“Great, I’ll walk you”, you heard Fred’s footsteps get closer and closer to you, before finally gaining the courage to face him in hopes of his cluelessness.

“Oh by the way, this is for you” Fred opened his two hands to reveal a paper bird, pecking at his palm, “couldn’t have gave it to you back then of course, Snape was watching me like a hawk” he laughed before allowing the bird to flutter into your hands.

Your heart sank at the thought of opening the note, with a sick feeling in your stomach.

‘Y/N,

I had no idea you felt that way, but in that case… You’re way cuter’

You giggled slightly, feeling a sense of relief yet still feeling extremely anxious. Fred Weasley thought you were cute. You couldn’t believe it.

Finally looking up from the note, you noticed Fred’s hazel eyes staring longingly into your own, and you couldn’t look away.

You watched as he lifted his hand to your cheek, pushing back the hair that draped slightly over your face. The brush of his fingers on your skin felt so soft and warm, yet your gaze remained. In that moment you felt no sickness, no heart sinking, and no anxiety… just butterflies in your stomach and a sense of serenity.

“Is this okay?” Fred asked, and with one nod from you he began to lean in closer, causing you to slowly press onto your tip toes to make his job a little easier. This time he lifted his right hand to cup your face completely.

Upon instinct you closed your eyes, feeling your face be lifted towards his. You could feel the warmth of Fred’s breath grow closer, placing your hands on his lower torso where they would naturally reach.

The moment was perfect, and without a second thought your lips met Fred’s in a soft exchange. The initial kiss allowed you to linger for a moment, digesting the feeling of not only his face against yours but his fingers entwined in your hair.

Your lips were left cold but sweet as you breathed into Fred, causing him to place a second kiss on your lips returning the warmth you had just felt. This time you felt the corners of Fred’s mouth curl into a smile which made you do the same.

Pulling away slightly and starting to land on the heels of your feet you began to open your eyes slightly, seeing Fred’s adorable smile with his eyes closed. He began to pull you up again ever so slightly, eyes still closed.

“Hang on, just one more” he seemed in a trance, and giggling you put your hands around his neck to which he lifted you gently. The third kiss was as good as the first and second, and with that you were placed onto the ground, spiritually and physically.

You and Fred giggled at each other when finally opening both your eyes to see each other again. You felt Fred’s hand snake down your arm to meet your own hand, locking his fingers between yours.

You looked down at the floor and bit your lip at the afterthought of the moment, gripping Fred’s hand tightly as he let out a heavy breath.

“I bloody love detention” Fred announced as you walked hand in hand towards the common room, giggling.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley fanfiction #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley oneshot #george weasley imagine #fred weasley imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter imagine #weasley twins #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins x reader

[bigskydreaming]

You think when Jason first went to Bruce’s him and Dick had an interaction that went like this,

Jason: you don’t know what it like

Dick: Bitch I’m sorry which one of us went to juvie

LOL I get the joke and all but see, I do wanna be clear:

(And this is just in general rather than aimed specifically at you or this ask, anon).

I spend a lot of time talking about being anti-Trauma Olympics and that extends both ways. I don't want Dick perceived as more traumatized or having had it harder than anyone else in his family, just that his own traumas and hardships aren't erased or invalidated in favor of propping up someone else. At most, I'll talk about something like the Forever Evil situation and how he was 'more' the victim there than they were, but that's because that's a specific situational thing where both he and other characters' feelings and hurt in regards to the exact same set of circumstances are being compared, and I'm like, well if you're GONNA do that, you kinda gotta look at who was most directly impacted by events versus had feelings about what HAPPENED to the first person in the first place, just....conveniently leapfrogging over that dude's actual feelings about those exact same things.

But ultimately, although I'll spite-LOL about this sorta joke in response to other fans Doing the Most in the other direction, like.....tbh, I wouldn't be any more in favor of this kinda interaction in fics or canon.

What I WOULD love to see is rather than the kids being pitted against each other in a kinda pseudo competition, see them use traumas and parallel situations as a basis for common ground and building stronger bonds. Like, how much more powerful would it be if what we got instead was Jason finding out about Dick's past experiences with juvie in order to make Dick someone he feels DOES get certain things. I mean, Dick never DID experience various things that Jason did living on the street or earlier living with Catherine and Willis....but like I've always posited that in the early years Dick had a primal fear of fucking up and being sent back to juvie by Bruce, Dick absolutely would be able to understand the fears of a kid who was caught committing an actual crime by Bruce in their first encounter and feared what might happen if Bruce ever decided he wasn't worth giving the benefit of the doubt and ultimately would never be more than a criminal.

Part of what bums me so much about the direction most fics and headcanons take towards Dick and Jason's earlier interactions, is there's a huge chasm in experience, perspective and privilege between Bruce and BOTH his two eldest. That chasm is not nearly as vast between Dick and Jason themselves. Where they diverge in prior experiences tends to have a lot to do with specific situations and circumstances rather than axis of privilege. (Especially when you consider - and god I'm tired of this - how often people default to being like 'well Dick at least had loving parents' when ahem, HOW OFTEN has Jason made clear that he has very affectionate memories of Catherine because she was at times a very loving and attentive mother, and that's WHY her addiction and death hit him so hard, not unlike how the murder of Dick's parents hit him so hard BECAUSE they were loving and nurturing? Like, how often do people throw characters' own stories and canon away JUST to make the case that they have it harder than another one? Can we stop this? Forever preferably?)

But point is, there are tons of areas where Bruce just fundamentally didn't relate to Dick and never was going to be able to, because Bruce was never in a position of being at the mercy of various institutions. Bruce never had to worry about being thrown out by his guardian, Alfred, who technically worked for his family even as he raised Bruce. He never had to deal with peers looking down on him because of who he WAS rather than giving him shit for specific circumstances or events. He never had to worry about his parents or past being demeaned as worthless, he never had to balance trying to retain a sense of self without being subsumed into Bruce AND the Waynes' larger than life shadows, history, and perception in the eyes of the public.

However all of these and more are areas where Dick and Jason absolutely overlap and this could be greatly of benefit to each other, if it was ALLOWED to be. For Dick, Jason's arrival can be an opportunity for him to finally have someone who gets various aspects of growing up with Bruce that will just fly over other peoples' heads as being a problem or them having issues with at all. For Jason, Dick can be an opportunity for him to have an easier time understanding Bruce when these gaps in perception and experience appear, or making himself understood by Bruce, by drawing upon and learning from Dick's own experience trying to navigate those very same gaps between Bruce and himself in years prior.

And even where Dick and Jason's experiences diverge, there's still plenty they could learn from each other that they STILL couldn't have in common with Bruce. Like yeah, Jason - even with a loving relationship with Catherine factored in - didn't ever have the benefit of Dick's history being part of a huge communal family in the circus, and around people who were open and generous with their affection and all that.....and frankly, Bruce never had this either, even factoring in his own relationship with HIS parents. But its something that Dick could definitely impart wisdom in, that would be helpful to Jason in learning to be part of a larger community of superheroes overall, and how to interact with a bigger family that wasn't limited just to himself and his guardian or guardians....as well as helpful after their family grew to include more siblings.

And Jason did have a ton of experiences and perspective born of living on the streets and being entirely self-sufficient from a young age, with wisdom he could share with Dick there, who was MORE likely to get the benefits of that than Bruce even, because Dick did have experience with a closer mindset to what Jason had had at the time, and even if Dick's own experiences running from juvie or in Robin Year One were far more finite than Jason's ever were, there's enough of a foundation there for them to build a common awareness of major events in each other's past and like....thus be able to talk about them, unpack them with each other and not have to worry about being judged by someone who just fundamentally might not get it or understand where they were coming from when they made certain choices based on those mindsets.

And then back again, part of why it bugs to so often hear Dick's years growing up in the mansion talked about as wholly a good thing when there's no separating them from the years he spent as Robin, is because Dick has knowledge and awareness of the streets and crime that's predicated entirely on his years as Robin, that's still broader than Jason's in the sense that Jason's knowledge is limited just to his personal, more contained experiences, whereas Dick as Robin interacted with all sorts of crime and criminals and victims. And who better than Dick to learn from in regards to what its like to even BE a teen vigilante, because for all Bruce's experience as Batman, he debuted as an adult, he'll never be able to relate specifically to the fears and finer points of taking on people who are older, bigger, more experienced than you, when you're that young and small. But again, all of that requires like, ACKNOWLEDGING that Dick went through some SHIT when he was younger, and that doesn't have to TAKE AWAY anything from Jason's own hardships, but it has all the capacity in the world to ADD things to Jason's toolbox for dealing with his hardships.

But yeah, ultimately, like....it annoys me to see Dick's own experiences so often glossed over or romanticized in order to act like he's so oblivious to what someone like Jason's life was like, but more than that, it just bums me because its a waste of so much potential material and just.....erases the opportunity for so many stories that could explore actual new, uncharted territory rather than just retread the same old beats about how oh Dick is just oblivious to what REAL hardship is like but Jason gets it, see.

That's gonna get a yawn from me, lads.

[cheri-translates]

SOS! My husband is wallowing in jealousy and can’t free himself! (a translated one-shot)

I translated this one-shot, “SOS! 老公沉迷吃醋无法自拔”, written by 谢谢我知道我很可爱z on Weibo (with permission) because it’s adorable :>

She intentionally used very basic Chinese with few descriptors, so I embellished it slightly for a fuller reading experience!

I’ll be keeping the original writer updated on comments left on this work because she’s the one who deserves all the credit 💕

[ present ]

“Gavin. Gavin?” You wave your hand in front of your husband’s face. “What’s wrong? You’ve been lost in thought ever since we returned from the amusement park.”

Gavin whips his head towards you, responding flatly. “Ahem, it’s nothing. I... I need to use the washroom.”

As though he’s fleeing from something, he rises from the bed and bolts straight to the bathroom. 

“That’s strange,” you muse with a frown. Turning towards the gigantic, ridiculously soft bunny resting near the headboard, you nuzzle into its arms and a contented sigh escapes from your parted lips. “Mm, whatever.”

There’s just something comforting about plush toys. 

--

[ earlier today ]

The pink bunny was a prize from the amusement park.

When you and Gavin walked past the shooting game booth earlier in the day, the plush had immediately seized your attention. However, you also noticed the group of young children who were looking eager to have a go at the booth.

While having a husband from the police force would make winning an easy feat, you felt that it was embarrassing to basically snatch a lollipop from a baby.

Out of sight, out of mind, you thought to yourself.

Tearing your eyes away from that adorable and tempting plush toy, you matched Gavin’s pace. Fortunately, the array of attractions which followed provided a much needed distraction.

Halfway through a simple lunch, Gavin left to get drinks. Or at least, that’s what he claimed.

More than ten minutes had gone by since he left, and you were starting to feel worried. Just as you decided to give him a call, he walked through the doors. 

With a pink stuffed bunny in his arms.

Your eyes sparkled. 

Paying no heed to the other diners, you lunged over to him, giving him a generous kiss. Gavin’s ears remained flushed for almost half the day. 

“Gavin, you...” your words came out a little clumsily due to excitement, pressing the huge bunny to your chest, burying your chin in its softness. Your eyes flitted from the bunny to Gavin. “You didn’t ‘bully’ the kids, did you?”

He patted your hair, and you heard his gentle laugh and clear voice from the top of your head. 

“I didn’t. Most of the kids are having lunch now, so the booth was pretty much empty. Also, there are other prizes available.”

“That’s good to hear.” You clutched the bunny with one arm, then pulled Gavin back to your seats contentedly. “How did you know that I wanted this bunny?”

“Ahem,” his face was once again coloured with a reddish hue. “You kept looking at it just now.”

“That’s not true, I only looked at it for three seconds at most...” you explained, but was cut off by his following sentence. 

“And this bunny looks like you. It’s very cute.”

You quickly lowered your head, feeling your cheeks turning warm. 

“L-let’s dig in. Are there any other attractions you want to try? It’s rare for the both of us to have time after a year of being married, so we definitely have to play to our heart’s content.”

“All right, whatever you say.”

--

You were in an incredibly good mood when the evening set in and the two of you were ready to return home. You suggested walking home, and Gavin agreed.

As usual, he carried the bags in one hand, and took yours in the other. He noticed that you were holding the rabbit in your arm. “Let me.”

“No need, no need,” you laughed and gently waved away Gavin’s outstretched hand. “How could a strapping young lad like you carry such a childish stuffed toy?” 

You loosened your grip on his hand. 

“Here, I’ll carry it with both hands, so I won’t be tired.”

The right hand you had let go of paused for a moment. Gavin’s brows furrowed imperceptibly, but his expression smoothened out in an instant.

“All right, let’s go home.”

--

After reaching home, you immediately rushed into the bedroom and placed the bunny on the headboard, utterly satisfied. 

Gavin frowned when he saw this, as though he couldn't quite understand something.

“Does it need to sleep?”

You grinned broadly and responded, “It’d be much more comfortable to hug it to sleep.”

“You need to hug it while sleeping?” He questioned. 

“Bingo~ You snapped your fingers, tossing Gavin a glance, wanting to see his reaction.

You didn't expect Gavin to sit at the side of the bed wordlessly, an unreadable expression on his face. You waved your hands in front of him, but he hurriedly escaped to the bathroom.

With the door closed behind him, he whispered under his breath, too softly for you to hear. “Am I not comfortable enough?”

--

[ present ]

Outside, you rub your chin and mutter to yourself.

“He isn’t angry, is he? Did I say something to make him angry?” 

You sigh. 

A man’s thoughts are truly difficult to decipher.

At this moment, a familiar ringtone resounds, notifying you of an incoming message.

It’s Minor.

[Message from Minor:] Sister-in-law! Sister-in-law! What happened between you and Bro Gavin?

Confused, you reply with a:

The next thing you receive from him is a voice clip. Grabbing your wireless earpieces from the bedside table, you press ‘play’. 

From the speed at which Minor is talking, you can immediately tell that he’s incredibly frantic. 

“Argh! You have no idea how aggrieved my Bro Gavin feels! He says you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder, so he had no choice but to send me a message asking what to do if his wife’s heart has taken off with someone else. Didn’t the two of you go to the amusement park today? How could such a thing happen? Even though this is a relationship between the two of you, I was once your great deskmate and now your employee at work. Sis-in-law, I’m not trying to be judgmental, but Bro Gavin is talented, handsome, and outstanding in so many areas. How could there be a young man in the amusement park who’s even more attractive and you can’t bear to part with?”

“No, Minor...” you reply with a voice clip, your eyes fluttering shut as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t meet any young man... And no, I didn’t give him the cold shoulder. I’ll talk to him properly, all right? In short, this is all just a misunderstanding, and we’re sorry to have made you worry.” 

After removing your earpieces, you recall the afternoon’s events and come to a conclusion:

Gavin. Is. Jealous.

And he’s jealous of a stuffed toy.

Didn’t you simply hug it in the afternoon? Didn’t you simply place it on the bed and plan to hug it at night? Does he not understand the heart of a woman? How could he get jealous over this? 

You find yourself laughing softly, recalling the forceful kiss he once gave you when you were on that blind date a few years ago.

He does look pretty cute when jealous. 

Suddenly, an idea flashes across your mind, and you know exactly how to coax him.

At this moment, Officer Gavin returns.

You instantly lean back against the bunny, pretending to be scrolling through your phone in a casual manner. “Hubby, did you have fun today?”

You seldom call him “Hubby”. 

Keeping a close eye on Gavin’s reactions, you notice that he falters in his steps once he hears the rare term of address.

“It was okay.”

“What do you mean ‘okay’? We had so much fun, and you even gave me this stuffed bunny. I’m really happy!” You place your phone to the side, looking straight at him with a grin.

Another pause.

Gavin lifts the covers and sits on the bed. “...you must be tired from today. Go to sleep.” Then, he lies down and no longer makes a sound.

Gavin’s looks really upset, you think, laughing internally. Could he be regretting winning the rabbit for me?

After laughing wildly in your heart a grand total of 800 times, you purse your lips and say, in a serious voice, “All right, let’s go to sleep.”

After switching off the lights, you settle under the covers with your back facing Gavin, squeezing the bunny to your chest.

Not too soon after, an arm slowly snakes across your waist from behind, and you can feel Gavin’s warm breaths on your ear. 

“Honey.”

He seldom calls you "Honey”.

“Mm? What’s wrong?” you ask, feeling your heart clenching in mild guilt.

“Did you sense that... I wasn’t in a good mood today?”

“Mm... I sensed it...” you slowly turn to face him. “But since you aren’t willing to tell me about it, I won’t probe.”

He coughs lightly. 

“Could you let go of that rabbit? You’ve already... hugged it for half the day.” After speaking, he even gives you a sincere, puppy-eyed look. 

No longer able to control yourself, you burst into a stream of laughter. 

“Officer Gavin,” you twist your body slightly to place the rabbit on the bedside table. Without any obstructions, you wrap your arm around his waist. “Can I understand this as you being jealous, and jealous of a stuffed toy?”

“Ahem... I’m not.” Even in the dark, you can see a visible redness crawling up a certain person’s face.

“Liar,” you immediately plant a kiss on his cheek, and lean closer to whisper into his ear. “Your face is red.”

Chaos ensues after that. 

Gavin presses you down, the bed sinking under the weight as he leans down to kiss you - your forehead, the tip of your nose, your chin, your exposed collarbone. 

He draws back, keeping his gaze on you.

“Then I’ll admit it.”

Another kiss. This time, on the lips.

You can’t tell how long this continues, but by the time you come to your senses, your lips are slightly swollen and his fingers are fumbling to unbutton your pyjamas.

“Hey,” you swat his hands away, splaying your right hand on his firm chest. “You said that I was tired.”

With breathy laughter, he grabs your wrists and clasps them on the bed. Leaning in close to your ear, he says in a hoarse voice:

“You said that I was a liar.”

--

[ a while later ]

“Actually, the bunny isn’t just for you.” Gavin muses quietly, playing with the ends of your hair as you lean on his chest.

“Hm?”

“At first, I was thinking that if you didn’t like it, we could give it to our child in the future.”

#mlqc #mlqc gavin

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.27

Beaten and Lost

03/24/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,109

Warnings: language, canon level violence, injuries, wounds, blood, smidge of angst

A/N: So...I should really edit this more but I’m tired and I’m sure you all want this more than you want my edits. lol I’m pretty satisfied with it. Hopefully y’all like it too. If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work! xoxo

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY STORIES. Reblogs are appreciated!

“No! Clint! Get to those citizens. I’ll handle James.”

“Oh, you’ll handle him? Much like you handled those bandits in Bosset?”

“I did handle them.” Nat argues, ducking as another flaming ball of tar goes soaring over their heads. “We got out of there, didn’t we?”

Shielded for the moment behind an overturned vendor’s stall, she and Clint find themselves catching their breath as chaos reigns around them.

Nat can see Peter flying across rooftops, shooting his web at Hydra soldier after Hydra soldier. Incapacitating them by grabbing them and knocking them out or suspending them from the streetlamps and balconies.

She can’t see, but she can hear the whoosh of wind as Sam flies overhead, aided by his specialized wing suit.

“Barely.” Clint nods. “It’s all over after today, you know that, right? Everyone in the kingdom…in all the kingdoms will know who you all are now.”

“It was bound to come out.” Nat shrugs. “It was Steve and Tony that wanted to keep things quiet, for their families’ sake.”

“I can relate.” Clint sighs.

“I’m sorry, Clint. I didn’t mean to drag you back into this.” Nat assesses her old friend, dirty blonde hair, handsome features only slightly aged and looking more exasperated than tired.

Time with his family has done him good.

“It was inevitable.” He nods. “Alright, on the count of three.”

Nat nods, reaching down to take hold of a long metal rod that has broken off from a carriage in place of her usual adamantium daggers.

“Is that really a good idea?” Clint asks, eyeing her sheathed daggers now out and visible with her lack of cloak.

“I love him, Clint.” Nat shakes her head. “I’m going to marry him. I won’t kill him.”

“You might have to.” Clint insists.

Nat only meets his gaze, defiance written all over her scratched up and dirty face.

“One…Two…Thr-” As Clint and Nat make to rise, the weight of their temporary shield falls out from behind them and they have to scramble up onto their knees as they watch the stall levitate up into the air.

“What the-?” Clint begins and they both watch as it rises higher and higher, a strange red energy lifting it into the air.

It swirls around the stall like smoke, vibrant in spots where it pulsates with power.

“Looks like we aren’t alone anymore.” Nat says, bringing Clint’s eyes to her.

He sees her watching the road in front of them and follows her gaze to a young girl, no more than twenty with her hands in the air, clearly directed towards the stall that had just been ripped away from them.

She’s wearing a form fitting red leather tunic and jacket over a pair of dark gray pants. Inexpensive clothing that looks as if it were once new, but now tattered and torn.

Nat at least wears a collection of torn up skirts woven together around her hips making it look as if she were wearing a skirt while leaving the front of her legs exposed so that she can reach her weapons.

This girl is wearing just the pants. No weapons, nothing but the strange red energy.

Her hair is also red, but duller than Natasha’s, and waist length. Left to do as it pleases, it floats around her body as the red magics that she is clearly manipulating dances about her.

With eyes like scarlet fire, she suddenly brings her hands down and both Nat and Clint scramble up just in time, diving out of the way as the stall crashes into the cobbled road and explodes into splinters.

As she approaches, they get to their feet only to feel the strange rush of air and force along their fronts and get knocked to the ground again.

“Do you see-?” Clint begins.

“No.” Nat replies.

They rise again, attempting to get to their feet only to feel the same rush of air and force against their back.

They’re shoved forward and fall onto their hands and knees, landing roughly so that the frozen stones beneath their hands draw a little blood.

Annoyed, Nat glares.

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“The girl is a witch. Could she be doing this?” Clint wonders.

“No, I don’t think so.” Nat sighs and makes to stand again only to get pushed hard in the stomach. It sends her soaring backwards into the air a few feet until she makes impact with something large and hard.

It catches her under the arms and the heat suddenly makes sense as she’s helped to her feet.

“It seems you’re having a bit of trouble, Lady Widow, shall I help?”

“Thor!” Nat gasps, grateful to be up on her feet, but she frowns at him all the same. “How many times must I tell you? It’s Black Widow.”

Thor smiles at her. “It seems you’ve found yourself a bit of a nuisance.”

“Indeed.” Nat nods.

“Hey, how about a little assistance, your Majesty?” Clint gestures at the girl whose stopped advancing at the sight of Thor.

“That girl is not your problem.” Thor says, pointing at the girl and watching her with a furrowed brow.

“Then what is it?” Natasha asks.

“It’s the boy.”

“Boy?” Clint pushes himself up onto his knees and looks around, confused. “What boy?”

Without warning Thor draws his arm back, calling into it his hammer which very nearly reaches him when the body of a man wearing head to toe silver appears with his hand around the handle midflight.

As it reaches Thor, dragging the boy along with it, Thor quickly grabs him and slams him into the ground only to place his hammer on his chest.

“This boy.” Thor smiles down at him.

Nat’s mouth is slightly agape as she stares down at Thor’s catch, Clint then rises and moves over to look down at the lad as he struggles and grunts against the weight of Mjolnir and attempts to push it off.

“Why couldn’t we see him?” Clint wonders.

“He was moving too quickly for your eyes to see.” Thor explains. “He didn’t know that he wouldn’t be able to lift my hammer.”

“Not so quick now, are you?” Clint taunts.

“I think Hawkeye and I can handle the girl.” Thor says, turning to Nat with a look of stern approval. “Barnes and Hydra are regrouping in the town square. You’d best head there and help the Spiderling, Pigeon, and Stark.”

“Spiderman and Falcon.” Nat corrects, but she’s already backing away from them. “Clint?”

“Go. I’ve got a God on my side.” He watches as Nat turns to run, then looks to the girl whose fingers are still dancing with red waves. “How are we going to handle this one?”

“You could never handle my sister.” Says the boy still struggling, glaring at both Thor and Clint. “The Scarlet Witch will warp you into your darkest nightmares. She will tear your mind apart piece by piece until you are nothing more than a sobbing, whimpering fool.”

“You promise?” Clint asks, then turns to give him a smug smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

She can hear it before it hits. She can feel the heat against her skin before she can even form the plea for Tony to stay his hand.

“James, please.” She begs, holding his arm back behind him with as much strength as she can muster.

Behind her the Falcon has lost a wing as is fighting hand to hand against a mob of Hydra foot soldiers.

Peter is with him, attempting to help as much as he can while also pulling the occasional bystander away from the fight.

Nat has been able to hold Bucky off for only a few minutes. Seven? Eight minutes? Maybe ten.

They feel like hours. Every punch avoided, ever kick expertly maneuvered feels like another thorn in Nat’s heart.

“Please, my love.” She whispers into his ear as he grunts and with a surge of strength pulls his arm from her hold behind his back.

He turns around and grabs her by the neck, squeezing with his flesh arm so tight that her eyes grow red as her hands hesitantly travel down to the blades along her thighs. As her fingers make contact with the cool metal, she realizes that she can’t do it. Nat can’t hurt him.

She mouths his name, a haggard whisper through the constriction of her throat, and brings her hands up to hold the one choking her to death.

Nat thinks she sees a shift in his eyes, a return of warmth, but if it was real it came and went too quickly for her to be sure it wasn’t just her oxygen deprived mind wishing he’d remember that he loves her. That he asked her to marry him.

She wishes that she could have a chance to tell him yes. That she’ll marry him. That even if she can’t give him the life he deserves, if he will have her, she will happily live out the rest of her days by his side.

He flips her, then slams her down against the cobble road. Nat gasps in as much air as she can as the darkness in her vision begins to clear. Her head is pounding, she can feel blood pooling along her scalp.

Wheezing, she forces her body to move, to shift. She wants to see him.

Bucky has turned and is moving towards Tony who has somehow found one of his gauntlets. At the center of his palm is the gleaming blue shine of his blaster. The magic and lightning that he seams to have weaved into his suit and tamed it to use at will.

He raises his glove, holds it up towards the approaching threat.

Nat pushes herself up and throws her and out towards Tony, almost mimicking his movement as the blue light grows brighter faster.

“Tony, n-!” She tries, but he fires, and it hits Bucky square in the chest.

He’s sent flying back into a heap on top of a pile of wooden crates.

Nat falls onto her side, staring at him in relief that he’s down, but she knows it isn’t over. She moves as quickly as she can to subdue him and manages to get onto her feet.

Racing to his side, she reaches for his arm, but he throws it up towards her and she’s sent flying back into one of the now broken lampposts.

She hits it hard and crumples with a pained groan around the base. Somehow, she manages to refocus, pulling herself back up onto her feet with the assistance of the broken post.

By the time she’s up, searching for Bucky, she finds him charging at Tony who has found the rest of his suit probably kept safe in his carriage. Hidden, like Steve’s shield had been. Like all of their tools.

Bucky races at full speed at Tony, not stopping as Tony sends shot after shot towards him. He dodges each blast of energy. He even grabs Tony’s wrists and points his hands up at the sky rending his shots useless.

Tony counters with a kick to his chest, sending Bucky skidding back only to readjust his footing and dive at his target.

Tony punches and kicks, avoiding Bucky’s metal arm as best he can while also trying to blast him with his hands.

It takes only a minute for Bucky to get Tony down on the ground. On his back, Tony is at a disadvantage.

Nat begins to race for them as Bucky brings his metal fingers down around the blinding circle at the center of Tony’s chest.

With his swollen cheek, cut lip, bloody nose, Bucky huffs with the strength he uses to pry his fingers in around the orb.

Nat can hear Tony’s own wounded grunt, one hand pulling at Bucky’s normal arm to pry it away from his neck and the other squeezing and tugging at the metal one around his power source.

“Don’t make me do this Barnes.” Tony gasps.

“Don’t!” Nat cries, still too far away.

The orb within Tony’s chest begins to glow brighter, more blinding, more chaotic in its pulsing energy.

“Tony, don’t!” Nat pleads, pushing her leg to run through her limp.

“I’m sorry.” Tony whispers, and the light in his chest explodes shooting up into the air with a twenty-foot beam.

Nat is thrown back by the force of the blast, but she recovers quickly, forcing herself to scramble up towards them.

Bucky lays motionless a few feet away from Tony’s gasping form his metal arm gone. Severed by Tony’s energy beam at the shoulder. Shards of sharp metal protrude from the wound.

“James!” Nat calls, falling to her knees at his side. “James, please.”

But he’s so still.

For one breathless minute, Nat watches the love of her life lay before her, not breathing.

But then his chest moves, and she’s saved the grief of mourning her one true love.

Turning to Tony, she finds him sitting up, one leg bent with his arm resting over it as he watches her and Bucky.

“Are you alright?” She asks him, ignoring the rage she feels towards him because she knows it was necessary.

“Alright?” Tony gets to his feet. Groaning and grunting as his body protests the movement. “I’m a king. I am…perfection. Urghhh…”

“Perfection my ass.” Nat mutters, turning her gaze back to Bucky.

“Is it my turn?” A shaking elderly voice suddenly speaks.

“By all means, old woman. Assist away.” Tony waves her over, walking with her as she exits one of the shops where she’d been hiding watching the entire fight.

Agatha stops beside Nat and gives her head a quick inspection.

“Get this bandaged up right away, unless you’d like to lay unconscious beside your lover.” She orders.

Nat frowns but tears a piece of fabric from her open skirt and begins to wrap the strip around the worst part of her wound. She doesn’t have time to do it justice.

Agatha drops down beside Bucky and begins to look him over. She opens his eyes and they look as normal as ever.

“Well?” Tony asks, impatient.

“He’s out. It also appears as if whatever spell he was under, it has been broken. His injuries are extensive. He will not wake.” She assures them. “Perhaps ever.”

“What?!” Nat demands, voice panicked.

“This wound.” She suddenly rips Bucky’s tunic open then unbuttons his shirt to show a massive amount of black bruising along the left side of his body. “This will not heal easy. We need to get him somewhere safe. The quicker the better.”

“Tony…” Nat begins, turning to him, but Tony is watching the crowd in the distance.

“We can’t just leave them. There are still too many Hydra soldiers running around the city.” He frowns, his mind also jumping to you and Steve.

Are the two of you alright?

“You won’t.” Thor says from above before he lands with a small earth-shaking boom beside them. “I will stay along with the Pigeon, the Spiderling, and the Hawk. The two of you should take Barnes and the other prisoners back to your castle.

“Someone also needs to begin the search for Steve and the little bird. From what Peter said, Steve was gravely wounded. And Y/N is pregnant. I need to know she’s safe.”

“Prisoners? What prisoners?” Tony wonders.

“Don’t worry.” Thor assures them. “They too will not wake before you reach the castle. Go, my friends. I will provide what assistance I can here.”

“Thor…” Nat begins, desperate to thank him.

“Natasha…” Thor cuts her off, turning a serious and suddenly terrified gaze on her. “Find her. Find Steve. Make sure they’re alright.”

Nat agrees, knowing that she too will not rest well until she knows that you’re home safe and that your little prince is hopefully, unharmed.

You’re exhausted, trudging through overgrown fronds and grass as you struggle to weave your way through densely packed sycamore trees.

The forest is old, the canopy all but obscures the night sky above.

In the darkness, you cling to Steve’s hand as he leads you through the trees. Every now and then the late winter wind blows and scatters the branches overhead to give you a stunning view of the clear sky. A jeweled sky dazzles you, then retreats behind the leaves once again.

Your arm is yanked forward, and you gasp tripping over your dress which you quickly yank up with your free hand to keep from falling.

Steve’s cloak, still around you to stave off the frigid air, nearly does you in with a second trip but you managed to find your balance.

“Steve…” You begin, a warning in your voice because he’s your guide. He can see better than you can apparently and you’re relying on him to keep you upright with your little prince at stake.

What you find is Steve slumped against a tree, still somehow standing, but clearly weak and unable to stand upright. He drops his shield where it falls with a muted clunk.

“Steve!” You gasp, releasing his hand which he was still holding onto tightly, and rush to his side.

Getting in close is the only way that you can see his face, so you get right up against him. His nose only a few inches away.

He has both eyes closed, one swollen and black, bruised so darkly you shudder to think what that might look like under proper light.

His lips are slightly blue and that gives you such fright. You throw the cloak off of your shoulders and quickly wrap it around him.

With a split bleeding lip, now crusted in the corners where he allowed the crimson to dribble and pool, he protests.

“No.” He says, still managing some volume and a stern tone despite the exhaustion he’s clearly feeling and the pain his body is fighting.

The longer he stands there pressed against the tree, the lower slides along the thick trunk.

“Keep it on. It’s c-cold.” He shudders and you frown at him.

“You need it more than I do.” You assert and clasp the cloak at around his neck then draw the rest closed to help him keep what little heat he has.

“But our baby.” He sighs, finally reaching the base of the tree where he sits with his legs bent but weakly splayed out as you make sure his cloak is secure.

“Our little one is warm and safe in my belly.” You give him a smile but begin to notice the way his shield arm is resting at an odd angle. “Steve, your arm…”

“It’s nothing.” He tries.

“Don’t lie to me Steven.” You frown.

“It’s dislocated.” He relents quickly not missing a beat, knowing the tone you’re using well from the night you found Sharon in his bed.

“Shit.” You bite your lip but move to position yourself beside him. “Steve, why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“We had to get away.” He shakes his head but meets your eyes. “I needed you safe.”

“I am safe. But what will I do if you pass out here, in the middle of the forest? You should have told me. We should have stopped when I asked hours ago.” Your worry is outweighing your anger, and he seems to see that because he smiles weakly.

“Is this really the time to rub it in how right you are all the time?” He teases.

“Steve…” You fuss.

“I’m alright, my flower. Truly.” He lies.

You growl and move around the base of the tree sticking close to the ground. You move all the way around it, circling until you come up on Steve’s other side.

“What are you doing?” He wonders, curious but also wary.

“Looking for something. Do you still have your dagger?” You reopen his cloak and begin to feel around his waist.

He shifts for you, shoving his hips out a little and arching his back which makes him grunt with pain.

“Center of my waist. On the back.” He instructs.

Quickly you reach for it and pull it out before you pull his cloak shut again then turn around and begin to crawl away from him.

A tug on your skirts stops you and with his dagger in hand you turn to look back at him.

“Where are you going?” He frets, brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go far.” You promise, reach back, and pull his hand away from your skirts.

You crawl around for maybe ten minutes, picking up every stone and pebble that your fingers blindly encounter. At one point you swear you feel a silky scaled body slither past your outstretched digits but you ignore it and swallow down the panic as you convince yourself that it was probably more afraid of you than you are of it.

At last, several trees away and just out of Steve’s sight, you find what you’re looking for. You reach around for the long thin branch that you’d felt earlier. With the knife, stone, and branch, you crawl back to Steve to find him sitting up, craning his neck for sight of you.

Upon it, he sits back and releases a long-held breath.

His legs are a little more relaxed, stretched out but still wide open in his fatigue. You settle between them, scooching as close as you can but turn back forward as you sit up as straight as you can.

“Can you undo my bodice?” You ask, with your collection of tools placed before you, you move your hair out of his waist.

“You can’t take off your clothes.” Steve says, not understanding what you’re trying to do.

“Steve…just do it. Open my dress and once you see my corset strings, open it and then rip the driest part of my underdress. As much of it as you can.

“Y/N…” Steve begins, defiant.

“Please.” You beg, but you make it clear it isn’t an option.

After a moment of hesitation, he huffs out a gust of air before he gets to work on your dress.

It takes him five minutes to undo it and your corset, then another three to find and rip as large a piece of your underthings as he can.

“Is that dry enough?” He checks, holding out for you a strip long enough to wrap your arm several times.

“That’s perfect, my love.” You gush, taking the strip to feel how damp it might be.

Your skirts would have been too wet, trudging through snow all night.

Steve does your dress up as best as he can or attempts to before you’re up on your feet moving away from him.

“Wait…” He complains but you don’t stop and instead begin to feel around the large trunks you pass.

“You can dress me again in just a moment.” You tell him, but he growls.

“You’re going to catch your death with your back open like that!” He fumes.

You ignore him in favor of your search and after only two minutes this time, you find what you’re looking for. A knothole almost just out of reach.

Licking your lips, you push yourself up onto your toes and with trembling fingers search the space within.

You shut your eyes and refuse to think about what animals you may be disturbing.

Luckily, you find none, and instead find what you’re looking for.

With your stick and fabric in hand you scoop out as much dead and dried foliage as you can into the fabric with your stick placed in the middle of it all. The knothole is abundant in material, so you take as much as you need before you wrap it up around one end of the stick.

You cut a few small holes into the fabric to give the twigs and leaves and dried grass some air before you move back towards where you can hear Steve groaning in pain.

As he hears you near, he makes sure to stop.

Because he needs it more than you do at the moment, you find your spot between his legs again and turn around for him.

Quickly he begins to do your dress up, fighting the pain of his dislocated shoulder.

He’s pushing himself too hard and you know that he will pay for it. You hate that!

By the time he laces up your bodice, the spark from his steel dagger on your flint rock strikes a spark and your torch comes to life, blazing bright in what was only a second again pitch dark.

It’s blinding and you blink against the light before you grab it and turn to look at your husband.

He’s impressed, his face full of it, but what a face it is all beaten, black and blue.

“Oh, Steve.” You cry, your heart breaking.

“I’m okay.” He promises, reaching up with his good hand to stroke your cheek.

“No, you’re not!” You smack his hand away and shove the end of your torch into the ground to free up your hands.

With his cloak already open from him dressing you, you reach for his shoulder and feel for the shift.

Giving him time to fight you on this is not an option so you quickly force him back against the tree.

“Stay still.” You order, and without waiting for him to acknowledge what you’re saying, you begin to pull his shoulder up in small smooth circles.

“No, Y/N, wait.” He groans.

“Shh.” You frown but continue to lift his arm up.

“Y/N…” He repeats, his voice fighting the agony.

“Shush!” You insist, then finally feel the shift as his arm pops back into place.

“AH!” Steve cries, his breathing hard and his eyes shut tight.

You guide his arm across his chest and push it towards him to make sure he knows to keep it there while you tear more fabric from the thick layers of your skirts.

With his arm in a sling, Steve seems a bit more relaxed.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Steve wonders as you get up and fix your dress before you reach over for the torch.

His eyes are glued to your face, full of admiration and adoration, bloody lips curled slightly in a smile.

“I grew up alone, remember? I had to take care of myself.” You move to his good arm and hook your own through them. “Come on, your Majesty. On your feet.”

He groans and grunts as you pull him back onto his feet and tired legs. While he gets used to the sensation again, you hand him the torch and lean him against the tree. Then you move to grab his shield and with a long spare piece of your skirts available, you tie the disc to your back where you know it will be safe.

“You look good in my insignia.” Steve flirts.

“Of course, I do. I’m your wife.”

Steve huffs a small laugh.

“Come on, King Flirt. Lean on me.”

He wraps his good arm around your shoulders and leans as much weight against you as he’s willing which gladly is enough that the two of you can get moving again. And with the torch now out to show you the forest, you gasp as you realize just where you are.

“What is it?” Steve asks, sensing your glee.

“I know where we are!” You smile. “Come on. If we make good time, we’ll get there before the sun rises.”

It takes two more hours of you pulling Steve forward, forcing him to move faster just as he’d first forced you away from danger. You’re starting to feel the bite of the cold, but you don’t dare take the cloak from him. Only now are his lips beginning to show a bit of color. His cheeks aren’t so pale. His eyes are a little brighter.

You’re at the top of a hill when you finally stop and you’re breathing hard as your eyes take in the sight you’d thought you’d lost forever.

If not forever, then at least for a long time.

Below you both, nestled into the hillside is the Village of Bright Rise. A dozen and a half thatched roofed buildings that were once the only home you thought you’d ever know.

The church is on one end of the square, old and crumbling but still made with materials far better than the village houses that look to be in the midst of repairs.

The mill to the farms is on the right, and the old manor home—long since abandoned by the lord that had settled Bright Rise way before your parents had been born—sits derelict and half destroyed about a mile away from the village.

Still, despite the poverty you see before you, there is beauty in the large trees and the flower fields that you can only remember from your memories now with winter having taken the blooms. The small pond is frozen, and the roads are blanketed with fresh snow from earlier in the night when the sky had filled with clouds before being whisked away by winter winds.

“Where are we?” Steve wonders, staring at the little village below.

“We’re in Bright Rise.” You declare. “This is Bright Rise, Steve. This is where I was born. This is where my parents died and where I grew up. Just outside of the village, just before you reach that abandoned manor, you see that main road?”

Steve follows where your gaze to the spot you mean and nods.

“I see it.”

“That’s where my life changed. That’s where I found Grandmother fallen over in the mud. Where I searched, elbow deep in a bog for her purse. That’s where Father found me. Took me. Changed me.

“That’s where my destiny to be your wife manifested. This…this was my home.” You turn to him, watch as his face changes and devours every inch of the small place he sees below him.

“Do you see that small cottage over by the farms? To the right of the mill? With its crumbling walls and overgrown vine?” You ask, watching him.

“I see it.” He says, “Is that-?”

“That was where I lived. We’ll be safe there for a bit.” You whisper, suddenly nervous about him seeing your home. “Will you stay?”

Steve hears the insecurity in your voice, the fear of what your old home might say about who you were. Who you are. Because even if you are no longer that same girl that was taken at the side of the road, she is still within you. She’s your core. The base of who you have become.

“Anywhere.” Steve says. “So long as I’m with you.”

#king!steve x reader #king!steve x reader fanfiction #medieval fantasy au #royalty au #marvel au #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #king!steve x you #steve x you #captain america x reader #avengers x reader #pseudo princess #pseudo princess pt27

[idk-maybe-i-did-it]

Scars: Year six, Chapter one

Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: Breif mentions of self harm, heavy swearing, self deprecation

Remus Lupin had been hammered ever since he set foot in the building, from escorting First years to classes and assiting teachers with their problmes to disiplining missbehaving students at all hours of the night and taking too many courses to count.

Godric Gryffindor, he just wanted to take a damn break.

The teachers were piling them with homework and the lectures were so extensive. Not to mention the fact that he hadn't been able to see her all week.

I'd been two weeks since he bumped into her father and yet he still couldn't get his words out of his head. Stupid mutt. To make matters worse the full moon was in two days and all he wanted to do was kiss her in the rain. But no, he had to sit at a stupid desk until he finished writing the rest of those essays, was done drawing an accurate picture of a Doxy, had finished writing down all of the poison antidotes from his Advanced Potions textbook (and the ingrediants required to make them). To top it off though, he'd had prefect duties earlier that evening and his head was absolutely pounding.

It was around three in the morning when Y/n came back into the common room and fell onto the couch nearest a fire. She kicked her boots off and loosened her tie before she even began to settle down. His love looked as if she'd just ran through a twister. Her hair was a tangled mess and her clothes were wrinkled and torn. He couldn't help but question where she'd been. He had to endure three classes without her and even more with her but he hadn't caught even a glimpse of her at all that week.

Remus missed her horribly and yearned to simply sit with her on that couch for a few moments before she went off for bed.

He almost started to cross the threshold to reach her when that little voice in the back of his head began to speak again. He almost told himself to shut the bloody hell up, but then he thought about how stupid that would be, telling yourself to shut the bloody hell up. So he turned around in his seat and tried to concentrait on what he was writing on the piece of parchment but found it rather hard to focus when N/n was exchanging her button-up shirt for one of his sweaters, he found it quite difficult when she began to brush through her hair with a comb and pulled it into a bun at the top of her head (he thought she looked to be wearing a hat with it that way) and started to yawn.

She hadn't noticed that he was even sitting in the common room until she looked over and saw him staring doe eyed at her. For moments they simply looked at each other. But then she was grabbing her satchel and her shoes and making her way towards his table.

Some part of Remus wanted to break down and cry and yell at her to go away when she plopped down in that chair besides him. But he found, yet again, that he prefered her company much more than he prefered the company he recieved in his head.

Her skirt was so wrinkled, Godric he wanted to steal his mothers iron and steam the thing until all of the wrinkles came out of it. It irritated far more than it should have. Wrinkles in clothing, he absolutely hated them, Remus's mother used to laugh when he would spend chunks of his day ironing clothing in the sitting room.

The young woman beside him had pulled out three glass vials filled with a redish liquid that he recognized to be wolfsbane. Remus knew he should've been paying more attention to his homework and the potion but he just couldn't stop looking at her, wouldn't stop.

" Y/n."

She turned to him then, stopped rummaging through her satchel and actually looked up at him with those beautiful e/c eyes.

Remus went to reach a hand out to grasp her chin but then stopped abruptly, his voice unnatrually quiet, " Can I just look at you for a moment."

She bobbed her head once and then his hands were on her face, caloused as they were.

He was holding her face in his hands again, her face felt cool to the touch, as if she'd been outside for a good while beforehand, and there were purple circles beneath her eyes. Anyone would say that there was no need to look at her for too long because she looked nearly the same as before, but to him, no, to him she looked bloody brilliant and as long as she was sitting next to him he wouldn't stop looking at her face. It felt like ages had gone by since he'd held her, since he'd even seen her, so for the chance to arrise before him just then, he didn't hesitate to hold her in his grasp, even if it would last only a moment. A moment was all he needed, a moment of salvation.

" I've missed you Remus."

Her eyes flicked up to his and she scorned them for something, anything to let her know how he felt, but she found nothing other than shadows pooling in his irises.

" I've missed you too bunny."

His voice was nothing other than a mere whisper but she loved the sound of it either way. He hadn't uttered a single word to her since those two weeks after the incident at James's house.

" Then why haven't you come back to me yet?"

He tried to retract his hands from her face but found that she was grasping his wrists to keep his hands attached to her jaw.

His eyes flicked up to hers and she held his gaze while he answered her question.

" Because I hurt you and I'm afraid I'll hurt you again if I come too close."

He shuddered, his shoulders shook and he hid his face.

" I know it's four in the morning but do you want to do this homework together."

Remus laughed lightly, a somehow light sound.

And he said, sure.

_______________________________________

Godric fucking Gryffindor, his head was spinning and he didn't even know if walking straight was still an option.

Remus didn't know why he stayed up that late knowing damn well had duties in the early morning hours but what he did know was that he really fudging regretted it.

He'd been ushering children to class and seperating unseperatable tongue-tied couples all morning and if it wasn't bad enough that he was really bleeding tired, it was as if the universe just had to give him a splitting headache too.

So splitting, in fact, that James had to 'escort' him to Madam Pumfrey to give him a potion to take that did the exact opposite of what it was supposed to do and so for the rest of the day he was excused to lay in bed.

There was absolutely nothing to do.

Remus's head was spinning but his thoughts were clear as day and he knew that he wanted company.

He ended up curling under his blankets in a sweater his sister had given him and tried to sleep.

------

Sirius Black face planted onto his bed and landed on a pile of homework instead of the soft pillows he'd hoped for.

It wasn't until after he'd gotten through with the first two pages of work that he noticed Remus napping.

Remus finally got that company he'd asked for, but it wasn't the company he'd wanted.

He simply went back to sleep, not knowing that Y/n would come by soon afterwards to give him the lunch that he'd missed earlier.

She gave it Sirius and turned around on her heel to leave when she felt a hand grasp her wrist.

" N/n I'm begging you, help me with this disastrous pile of work."

He was on his knees, an arm draped over his brow in a pretend faint.

In a swift motion he gathered her hands in his and began pouting.

She knew he was one of the smartest boys in school but they were all exhausted as shit, and she knew that if she didn't help him with the work he'd be more behind in all of his classes than she had been when she first started the year.

James had been helping her catch up her charms and re-learn some of the more important spells in his free time. He was like-what would you call it ?-a tutor. That was exactly what James was like now, her best friend and her tutor.

The boys were all so smart but they were all so bloody stupid.

Her and Sirius ended up fifteen minutes late for their next class, even though they'd been given more free time as sixth years, the group still found that all of the extra time they'd been given was spent mostly on homework and worrying about the Dark Lord and less on pranks and having fun.

Any amount of spare time they'd had in the previous school year was something for them all to cherish, of course they all were still pranking and going off to Hogsmeade for candy but they now had little time to enjoy doing such things.

They were always the brightest group of sorcerers  at Hogwarts, they just had to work three times as hard now.

While they were studying Sirius noticed Y/n hadn't been paying any attention to Remus and she  smiled more. She always tried to catch his eye, always had been trying to make sure he was okay and well rested but then in that moment, he rejoiced at the fact that she didn't glance his way, it was his way of knowing they were getting better; she didn't have to glance his way if she'd already talked to him, learned of how he was doing.

Whenever they rushed off to class after all their time studying, she kissed Remus's cheek and blew out the candles in the dormitory before she ran off with Sirius.

Sirius didn't let her know, but he saw Remus smile before he closed the door behind Y/n. It warmed his heart to know his lad was smiling again, if only for a moment. _____________

Remus steered clear of her for the rest of the week, only letting her within his sight after the full moon's destructive wave had been over with.

Well, he didn't really let her within his sight, he more or less woke up to her sitting on the edge of his hospital bed, lathering the countless wounds littering his body in the same goo he used ever other day to help the bruises heal over. He felt her fingers delicately brush over his scarred forearms and side and neck and he basked in the pain.

He heard Madam Pumphrey slide open the curtain to his bed to help Y/n wrap his wounds and to give her the medicines to give to him when he awoke.

It wasn't until after she'd left before Y/n spoke.

" You're awake." She said with a frown on her face.

He watched her wash her hands and he watched as she sat back on the edge of his bed.

She tapped the crown of his chest.

" You know, your chest rises with a different rhythm when you're awake."

Was it not Madam Pumfrey but her bandaging his wounds every full moon and other instances? Was it not the Madam but her who left Wolfsbane by the side of his bed the days before the full moon? Was it not himself but her who had been making him feel better every full moon?

When he had cried afterwards and found his favorite chocolates on his bedside in the middle of the night, when he knew the others would be asleep, was it her who had placed them there? None of the teachers would know his favorite bedside flowers were Periwinkle and Blue Delphiniums nor would any of them know they'd always calmed him down after the full moon. None of them would know of his favorite chocolates.

Oh Godric Gryffindor he was a bloody idiot to have thought that Madam Pumfrey had been patching him up for the past month.

Every stupid time he had came in and slept after opening one of his wounds, every night that he had spent with a sore ass in the bloody hospital wing and it was her who had been fixing him up.

What a fucking idiot.

______________

It's been like two months people, how's my writing holding up? Still trash or is it better?

Drop a Vote, Drink Some Water, Eat some food, take screen breaks and remember You Are Loved! 

^ - ^

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #remuslupinxreader #RemusLupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fanfiction #James Potter #Sirius Black #remus x reader #hogwarts #remus john lupin

[the-finch-address]

Tag: Word Find

Tagged by @sharraus! Thank you!!

tHO isn’t at the stage where I can find half of these words in a comprehensible state since most of it is Draft 1 gibberish. So instead I’m using the opportunity to write something new for each prompt; some being canon from the book and others just standing as an excuse to write the characters interacting. Bc of this the length got a bit......Out Of Hand. Sorry about that. Putting it all under the read more so I don’t bombard anyone’s dashboard

> Prompt: Work [Note; This occurs years before the plot begins]

Vestiel ran his fingers through the grass and picked at early yellow blooms. The harsh clang of metal against wood echoed around him, the sounds of the forest easily lost behind it.

“Can we go home soon?” he whined, “I’m so hungry I could eat a bear.” His bottom lip is brought between his teeth, and he waits. Clang. Clang. Clang. “Please?”

The axe stills. Andi turns, wiping the sweat from his brow while fitting Vestiel with a look. Magpies trill in the wake of his silence, the flutter of fallen leaves following the breeze. Andi straightens his back. “Silas won’t have finished dinner yet, lad, the sun’s still well up the sky.” He answers, looking annoyed, “We’ve plenty of light to finish this up first. Fill the baskets if you’re so restless.”

He reaches for the axe again. The disappointment must have shown on Vestiel’s face, though, since the tool remains lodged, and Andi continues to look distracted. He knew the boy was too young to understand how important this work was, how it kept them warm and fed. He couldn’t blame a child for prioritizing an empty stomach over harsh and thankless labor. Still, that morning’s storm had downed too many trees to not take advantage of. It had to be done.

“Tell you what,” Andi resigns himself, a weary smile lifting his eyes, “I’ll let you do a few strokes, but Vestiel-”

The boy is already up and on his feet, dandelions forgotten in the sunken spots of grass where his legs had crossed, “You mean it?” He brightens, “I can do it all by myself?”

“Listen to me,” Andi lifts a hand, demanding attention, while the other remains on the hilt, “you’ll start with the axe wedged in and bring them down together-” he offers a stern look, “--and I don’t want to hear any complaints. This is your first time, I don’t want you lopping off a toe or, North forbid, a whole foot. You need a feel for the tool before you do anything else.”

Vestiel acknowledges this with a hasty nod, the muttered agreement of “Yeah, yeah, sure” crossing his lips, hand already reaching for the axe.

Andi comes between him with a harsher expression than before, eyebrows raised expectantly. Vestiel lets out a sigh.

“The axe will start in the wood. Got it.” The impatience hasn’t fully left his tone, but it’s an improvement, and Andi appears content by it.

The wood is already a narrowed size when the axe is driven through its flesh. The blade settles halfway down the block and wedges itself firmly along the grain with little resistance, just on the edge of splitting. He brings it to Vestiel, who takes the closer end of the block with his left hand and the hilt with his right.

“Now, you’ll want to bring it down towards the back of the splitting block,” Andi starts, “Make sure you do so with both hands together, or you’ll only-”

Clang. Vestiel opens his eyes, already knowing that Andi is going to ring his neck for having closed them in the first place. All is forgotten at the sight of the severed wood, though, and he can’t help but be excited with the results. It isn’t perfect by any means, but it’s his, and he’s no less proud of it despite his brother's hand-holding. He looks to Andi in hopes of praise.

“Mother’s grief, Vestiel, have some patience!” Is the chastised response he receives instead. “You couldn’t have at least waited for me to finish?”

Vestiel makes a sour face. “I did it fine, didn’t I?” He retorts, “Isn’t that good enough?”

Andi raises a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose, a long and tired breath escaping him. After a minute of patience himself he’s able to give Vestiel the reaction he was looking for. A smile, small but proud. “It’s not bad for your first time,” he says, “but you’re going to need more practice, and patience, than that if you want to hack apart whole trees in a few years.”

He extends a hand to bring Vestiel near, pulling him snug against his side. “You did well.” Andi continues, “but, lad,” his voice lowers to a stern whisper, and

Vestiel pales, “If I ever see your eyes closed with an axe in hand again, you’ll sweep the whole corridor. Twice.”

He swallows harshly and answers only with a nod. The pride blooming in his chest doesn't falter.

> Prompt: Weather

The evening sky flashes white, casting shadows across paintings framed in gold and goblets of silver. Across the room, Caprice of the North hunches over a desk painted in candlelight. He draws a finger across the map in study of its various routes and borders, frowning. Behind him, thunder crashes down. He flinches. Pitiful.

Shaking away the thought, the young deliverer refocuses. His back arches further towards the desk until braided locks of gold spill over onto the wood. Especially now, as he squints in the darkness of his shadow, does he wish this dreaded storm had chosen another night. It brought a miserable chill to his bones despite the grizzly pelt draping heavily over his shoulders and brought an ache to his bones.

Lightning comes again, its brilliant light cutting into the room with the swiftness of a sword’s blow. Capri anticipates it this time. When thunder claps against his window he’s decisively ready for it, his knuckles gone white against clenching fists. He can’t stop their trembling no matter how tightly he’s squeezing.

A knock at the door sends him out of his skin.

Like a sharp wound, the anticipation drives him into a panic. Young flesh grasps aimlessly for a new frame to stretch into, finding nothing but mortal bones. By the time the door swings open he is straightened, remembering a human form, begging the drum within his heart to settle.

Silence greets him. A form approaches from the doorway and draws towards the light, illuminating their features quick enough that Caprice’s hand stills where it rested on the hilt of his sword.

“Dove?” He relaxes and lets himself breathe, forcing air into his lungs with more effort than is needed. “I thought you were with Eivind."

“He was needed elsewhere,” Dove signs. His hands portrayed a sense of disappointment where one couldn’t be seen in his expression, brown eyes seeming indifferent.

Caprice looks away shamefully, “You didn’t have to come,” he says.

“I wanted to.”

His gaze again lifts to meet the other with only a grunt, reluctant to answer in words for fear that his voice might betray him.

Light consumes the room with blinding force and concurrently Caprice’s hand reaches blindly for the edge of the desk to ground himself. It’s silly, he thinks, ruined pride staining his cheeks red. Internally he’s counting the seconds as they go by, steeling himself.

Dove reaches for him--

Capri recoils just as thunder cracks and booms overhead. The approach was too quick, well-meaning as it may have been. Dove understands the reaction. He reads Caprice as well as the noble reads his sign.

The thrashing of rain fills the aching silence and neither of them dares interrupt it. Seconds pass by without distraction until Dove again extends his hand forward. He moves slower than he has to under the young emperor’s weary gaze as though addressing a wounded animal.

When Caprice notices it’s not without backlash. His eyes turn hard, looking fussed. His nails dig into the wood beneath them until angry lines form on the underside of the desk and pain shoots up his fingers.

Dove’s palm settles over his hand, squeezing.

He flinches but can’t bring himself to shake the man away. The silence between them stretches on unbearably after, broken only by the rain. He releases the desk and turns his palm face up, intertwining their fingers wearily. “Thank you.” He whispers.

When the thunder comes this time, he doesn’t flinch.

Prompt: Help

Vestiel’s heartbeat thuds like thunder roaring inside his ears. He stares with too much intent at the earth beneath his worn shoes, doing his best to concentrate on the hole boring over the space near his toes.

Much to his dismay, Fannar-Haise appears to notice.

She carries herself past the snow huts and politely cuts through the crowd, stepping lightly around the fire and between celebrants, their songs alight with a different kind of flame.

Vestiel can’t hear them past his own thoughts. Get out, get out, get out. He forces some semblance of greeting out as she approaches but can’t manage to look her in the eyes. It’s hard most days, but especially now.

“Enjoying the party?” She asks, making no mention of the answer being pretty obvious. The smile on her lips is pitying, judgemental at worst, he just knows it. He can’t bear to lift his chin and see. If Andi were here he could explain himself easily but, as it was, he was going into this situation alone. Completely, utterly alone.

“Yeah,” he lies, “just tired from all the traveling.”

It’s a witless excuse and she knows it. Instead of pointing it out, though, she only offers a shake of her head. There’s a lot to say about communication and Fannar-Haise considers herself an expert on the subject. She watches him fumble about; the trouble in getting his tongue to do its job sticking out to her as sorely as the restless, rhythmic tap of his hand against his hip and the blatant avoidance of eye contact. It answered her question more than his words could, and that was okay.

“You’re overwhelmed,” she nods to herself this time, having seemingly come to a conclusion all on her own, “Let me help. You don’t have to answer with words, a nod will do just fine. Can you walk?”

Vestiel squints at the sole of his shoes, looking confused, then apprehensive, “I’m-”

Silence. No matter how hard he pries, not a single word comes loose from his tongue. The thoughts are there and plentiful, excuses and apologies, maybe something more, fastened tightly like honey coating his throat and hidden away between his ribcage, leaving him breathless and useless.

His chin tilts upward, lips parting, but he can’t manage it. Instead, he allows himself the nod she had been looking for.

“Good. That’s good. We’re going to go somewhere quiet and after that you can tell me what you want to do. Can I touch your hand?”

She patiently waits for the resulting, albeit cautious nod, and takes his hand within her own.

She guides him past the bustling scene like this. As they reach a distance where the noise has muffled he finds it in himself to speak again. It’s slow, at first, allowing his mind time to find the right words. “How did you know?”

Calmly she turns her gaze from the sky, not looking directly at him but rather just past where he stands. There isn’t a soul there when Vestiel follows her gaze over his shoulder, but he’d only half expected one. Andi had learned with time not to stare too long; something told him Haise was just as quick of a learner.

“Call it a hunch,” she hums, “I’ve experienced my fair share of things, Vestiel. This isn’t new or strange, it’s just you.” She pauses to face him, eyes still averted. He returns the favor and looks at her nose like it’s his only salvation, seconded only by the sight of his snow hut in the distance and the soft murmur becoming of the crowd ever fading behind them.

“Besides,” she continues, “these celebrations aren’t a requirement by any standard. They’re here to bring happiness. If something causes you to be unhappy you have no obligation to stay. If you need to step away, I will understand. We will always understand.”

Vestiel doesn’t know what to say when they reach the entrance. Despite her words, he can’t help but feel a wave of guilt wash over him for having both left the celebration early-- a celebration of his arrival, no less--and now, leaving their leader at the door.

She picks up on this, too.

“I’m going to head back to the others for a while longer. You can join us if you’re feeling up to it, or you can stay here and get some rest. Don’t overthink it, okay?”

Her warmth is everything to him, more grounding than a hole in his shoe could ever be. He wants her to know, wants to find the right words to explain how much her actions mean to him, but there isn’t an easy way to go about it without making a greater fool of himself. He answers with a weak smile and a simple, “Okay”, the best he can offer in way of thanks.

She matches his smile and bids him goodnight.

Prompt: Hope

The scent of leather tanning above flame clings to his nostrils. It fills him with a sense of despair unlike any other, weighing different from the miserable few weeks he’d spent mourning Andi, even. Putrid, a nauseating sort of agony like snakes writhing and tearing at his stomach. Burning. Burning. Burning.

The forest was ablaze. That was all he could possibly know, here in the dark. Shadows drove past him in a stampede of bodies carving through the night, survived only by a name and footprints worn into the poaching grounds.

He scares awake. Stars wink faintly above him, hidden behind the morning sun.

“Bad dream?”

Tupelo’s voice startles him a second time from where he lay, their trek up the hill all but forgotten until that point.

Vestiel slowly drags himself into a sitting position with a grunt of effort. Sweat collects at his jaw, cold against his cheeks. He licks his lips and tastes salt.

“A fire, just to the north of here-- tonight maybe--the forest, the people-”

Tupelo tends to the campfire, looking drained. It was suddenly apparent neither of them had slept well. “The forest?” they ask with a shake of their head, “Not to the north, yet.”

“Yet?”

Vestiel draws his shirt away and uses the

bottom corner to dry his face. Goosebumps still clinging to his arms, the memory remaining like a fresh wound.

“You don’t have to believe me,” he says, “I can’t explain it to you and if I do, you’ll just think I’ve gone strange. I’m only asking that you take me north of here.”

He reaches for the map tucked inside his rucksack, spilling a few more items in the process, “It shouldn’t be too far off from where we’re going already. I’ll show you.”

Tupelo is quick to rest their hand against his wrist with a sympathetic, albeit calm look on their face. “We’ll go.” They assure him, pointing to the north. “If it’s important.”

_________________________________

It quickly becomes evident that Tupelo is just as ill-equipped for this kind of travel as Vestiel. For as nimble as they are the hill obviously called for a different kind of strength. The original path would have taken them up and around, but this new direction was a straight shot to the north, uphill for the better half of it.

Tupelo watches Vestiel out of the corner of their eye, checking up on him every now and then as though waiting for Vestiel to change his mind, or hoping he’ll get around to it if they climb for long enough.

However, Vestiel remains steadfast in the endeavor, eyes locked on the horizon. He’s certain of what he saw, having learned to trust the dreams long ago, and he had no plans to stop now. The smell of burning flesh still lingered undeniably.

“We’re almost there.” Tupelo breaks the silence.

“Finally,” he gasps, “I don’t think my legs can go on for much longer.”

He can feel it already. The weight of the earth shifting beneath his feet, a familiar pressure that seeps into his bones, pungent smoldering inside his nostrils once more. “It’s right over here,” he drags himself the last few feet to the summit, “It’s-”

Dead. Every tree, every blade of grass, the entire opposite face of the hill lie dusty and black, an empty expanse of burnt trunks where the forest should have been.

Tupelo comes up beside him.

“What happened here?” Vestiel gasps in disbelief, “I was sure-- my dreams have never lied, not once before. Were we too late?”

“Your soul tells stories, not prophecies.” Tupelo answers, “Father told me you can hear them.”

“Them?”

“The spirits,” they gesture to the barren woods, “they speak because they know you will listen. Come.”

Vestiel follows their lead. Dry grass crunches underfoot as they descend the hill. Patches of green pop up here and there, but aren't constant and don’t compare to the full weight of the forest that should have been in its stead. It’s a sight he feels the need to grieve over as though his own soul were tied to the scorched land. The thought scares him.

Tupelo steps ahead and crouches to their knees, hands smoothing over a ring of stones that would have gone unseen had they not brought attention to it. Wordlessly, they pull the canteen from its strap and let the remainder of its water drip out.

Vestiel inches closer now. He kneels beside the other, “What is it?”

Tupelo sits back on their heels, palms opening to show a young sapling, green and healthy, standing tall, small as it may be. It rests in a forgotten graveyard.

“A tree?” Vestiel reaches for it and thumbs carefully along the juvenile bark. “What is one tree to an empty field?”

Tupelo cradles the sapling fondly. “Hope.”

_________________________________

I'm tagging @faenova @squid-scribe @zmlorenz @ashen-crest @henrike-does-writing-sometimes and @sharraus (can I tag the tagger? I'm doing it anyway)

Your words are Drenched, Gather, Cradle, and Howl

#finch writes #tHO #vestiel #andi #capri #tupelo #haise #dove #tag game

[vivilove-jonsa]

Spooky prompt: We're going to have to stay here tonight 🎃

Thank you for the prompt, honey!  This isn’t really spooky at all but it’s inspired by Katrina and Ichabod’s first meeting in Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow with a slight twist.  I hope you like it :)

**

“We’re going to have to stay here tonight.”

The announcement had been greeted with no surprise.  Even without tales of headless horsemen, witches or evil spirits in the forest, autumn in Northern New England carries its own hazards.  The weather can turn unexpectedly.  

The blizzard had kept anyone of sense from attempting the journey home and their host had gallantly offered refuge for his guests beyond the harvest feast.

“Stay as long as necessary,” Eddard Stark had told them.

Some had chosen not to stay. The Umbers had set off that first night regardless saying they did not fear a bit of snow or any ghost stories. Jon wonders how their coach and horses fared along the indifferent roads in such conditions and if they Umbers reached their hearth.  Or are they now headless victims of a malicious spirit?  More likely, they might be frozen corpses, their eyes unseeing and their spirits wandering through the woods railing at their own folly.

Most had stayed, like the Tarlys.  Samwell is his age, a likeable though bookish boy who often winds up the butt of jests which hardly seems fair since Sam’s twice as smart as most any man here.  Jon is glad to call him his good friend.  He is also secretly protective of him when it comes to settings such as this where Sam might not be shown due respect by some. His brother Dickon is here as well. Though he’s a few years younger than Sam, he does not need Jon’s protection.

There are some who Jon wishes hadn’t stayed as well, particularly Harrold Hardyng.  A puffed up jackanape who charms the ladies with his compliments and looks down his nose as Jon’s old waistcoat, the only one he possesses decent enough for the Starks’ house, while cruelly poking fun at Sam’s fondness for sweets when the ladies aren’t present.

Jon almost wishes he had attempted the journey back to his own modest homestead himself.  He knows Tormund won’t let his livestock starve or freeze but he feels his responsibilities as a newer landowner keenly and thinks he should be there, too.

But Mister Stark looks upon his former ward quite fondly and Jon could not refuse his entry to remain. “It’s four miles to home for you which may as well be ten leagues in these conditions.  Pray, stay a little longer, Jon.”

And why shouldn’t Jon wish to remain at Winterfell during a blizzard?  He spent most of his boyhood here after all.

Because of Mister Stark’s daughter Sansa, that’s why.  

From gawky and somewhat missish at thirteen, she has blossomed into a beauty, willowy, graceful and sweet at seventeen.  Jon had liked her well enough as a girl but they’d had little occasion to converse one on one. But now?  Oh, he’d enjoy sitting by her side at the hearth for hours upon end if he could.  

She’d been standing by her father’s side to greet their guests upon arrival when they’d met again for the first time in years. She’d shook hands with him, giving him a friendly smile and saying how much she’d missed him here.  Jon had been enchanted and his enchantment has only grown since then as one night of her company had stretched into several.  

Therefore, Jon cannot bear watching Harrold Hardyng’s obvious attempts to court her right under the nose of their elders.  What does Mister Stark think of Hardyng?  More importantly, what does Sansa think?  For her part, Sansa only smiles politely at his oafish gallantry like the gracious young lady she is but is there any attachment blooming?

Jon hopes not though he is likely a fool to hope.  He’s quite proud of his homestead but knows it wouldn’t have been unlikely for him without Mister Stark’s help and it is not a scratch on a grand house like Winterfell. If he thought an offer of marriage between him and Sansa might be accepted though…oh, he is a fool to hope.

On the seventh night of his unexpectedly extended visit, the young people are growing restless.  There is only so much gossip to share, only so many stories to tell.  Days and nights kept indoors with mixed company relaxes some of the usual decorum and makes them bolder.  

“A game!  Let’s play a game!” Sansa declares after supper while Tom Sevenstrings and his friends pluck out a tune.  

“The Pickety Witch!” someone suggests and several more agree.  

Sansa laughs as her friend Jeyne Poole covers her eyes with a length of fine silk.  What a sight she is in her pretty blue gown with her red hair shining brightly, curled and coiffed just so.  Her rosy lips and that bit of black silk upon her porcelain skin, she presents an image that Jon knows will revisit him in the night.  Honor will have him attempting to banish the thoughts it will spur.  Carnal desire will encourage him in them.

They twirl her around three times, the children, young ladies and gentlemen chuckling and edging about the limited allotted space for the game as their elders watch from nearby smiling with nostalgia for their own youths perhaps.

“The Pickety Witch, the Pickety Witch, who’s got a kiss for the Pickety Witch?” Sansa asks with her hands stretched out before her, eager to snare a victim and guess who it is she’s caught.  

All around the little area, she takes a step and then another, grasping at thin air.  She’s hemmed in by her would-be captures but the space is enough to leave her uncertain of anyone’s exact whereabouts.  

Beth Cassel screeches and scurries when Sansa nears her.  Samwell squeaks and dodges her at one point, making his brother Dickon laugh heartily and barely elude capture himself.  Little Rickon stomps on his brother Bran’s foot in his eagerness to escape his sister the Pickety Witch. She’s by far the prettiest Pickety Witch that ever was in Jon’s opinion.  

Jon grins as she nears him and stands his ground.  He hates to see her stuck in the middle indefinitely.  And he’ll gladly let her capture him especially if it means she might choose to give her victim a kiss (even if it means he’ll be the blind man next.)

But a sound from the left draws her attention before she gets close enough to touch him and she turns.

Jon scowls, seeing that Harry has knocked the fireplace poker from its place.  From his smug grin as Sansa moves towards him, Jon knows he did that on purpose.  

His heart clenches, waiting for her to reach him.  Like Jon, Harry isn’t moving.  

She’s nearly to him, no more than a foot away.  At any second, she’ll put her hands on his chest, his shoulders, touch his face and Jon will have to watch it all with a feigned smile as the sickening feeling in his stomach increases.  

But when she’s right in front of Harry, Sansa does something unexpected.  She darts to the right and nabs another victim.

Sam yelps.  Yes, it’s a bit undignified but Sam does startle easily. Jon sees her lips twitching with suppressed laughter as his own are doing the same.  

Sansa gently rubs his broad shoulders and then touches his round face.  She wears an expression of puzzlement though, surely, she knows who she’s caught.  

Or perhaps she doesn’t?

“Is it Loras?” she asks sweetly.  

“N-no, Mm-Miss Sansa,” Sam stammers while Loras Tyrell across the room looks positively aghast at being mistaken for Samwell Tarly.

His voice will have given it away, Jon is sure.

Or maybe not.

“Ah, it must be Dickon then!”

Dickon Tarly may be younger but he is a head taller than his brother and far less rotund.  Sansa doesn’t know the Tarlys all that well but she has spent the past week in their company and Jon has never heard her call them by anything but their correct names during that time.  

Unkind laughter from some of the other lads breaks out.  Some of the girls present titter cruelly, the girls who look at Dickon with moony eyes and give Sam dismissive looks.  Jon glares at them all as does Dickon.    

“No, I’m not Dickon, Miss Sansa,” Sam says, apologetically.  Jon feels sorry for him.

“You must be a stranger to me then but clearly you are a noble gentleman, sir,” Sansa declares before kissing Samwell Tarly softly on the cheek.  Sam’s eyes are wide as saucers as she removes her blindfold.  “Oh ho, my mistake!  He is no stranger at all but I was right to name him a noble gentleman,” she tells the others in a firm but merry tone.

The unkind laughter and cruel titters from a moment ago dry up in an instant.  Jon can hear pleased laughter from the true friends present and everyone’s spirits are jolly again as Sansa helps blindfold and spin Sam for his turn.

Everyone’s spirits are jolly except for Jon’s, that is.  

He’d never thought to be jealous of Sam in this manner but now, there is no denying that he is. Sansa kissed Sam on the cheek.  Sansa has named Sam noble, which he is, and Jon has never felt less noble in his life.  Sam carries an old, respectable family name and is the heir to more money than Jon will ever know.  Sam would make her a finer match than most of these fools would ever acknowledge if they had any inclination for one another in that manner.  

Feeling depressed and ridiculous, Jon decides to leave the circle of players and goes to fetch himself some cider.  Once he has it, he retreats to the Starks’ deserted library.

He entirely misses Samwell catching Gilly, one of the serving girls, naming her correctly at once even with his blindfold in place and chastely pressing a kiss to her hand, making the girl blush with pleasure.  

It is there where he broods alone in the library with his hard cider that he’s discovered.  She has caught him after all.  Tis only fitting.  She has held him captive from the moment he arrived here.

“Why did you leave the game?”

“I was feeling…”  Jealous.  “Tired.”

“I hope you’re not unwell.”

“Not at all, Miss Sansa.”

“‘Miss Sansa,’ is it? That’s terribly formal.  We’ve known each other since we were children, Jon.”

“Yes, you’re right. Sorry, Sansa.  You knew you’d caught Sam, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Why’d you pretend otherwise?”

“I don’t like the way some of our guests treat him.”

“Nor I.”

“I know.  I know he’s your friend and quite dear to you.”

“He is.  He’s a very good man.”

“Yes, everyone should open their eyes and see it.”

It’s true.  Why are his spirits are in such turmoil?  He agrees with her but envy is twisting it, turning it into snake in his guts that would eat his heart if it could.  

“I have a confession to make,” she says softly next.

“A confession?”

She bats her full eyelashes. It seems to make those impossibly blue eyes look even bluer.  “I knew I was right in front of Harry.  I could see just a bit beneath the blindfold.  I recognized his boots.  I reached for the person next to him because I didn’t wish to capture him.”

That snake in his guts is withering away as something else swells.  “Oh?  You do not care for him, do you?”

“No, I do not.  I was actually hoping to capture someone else. I was looking for a certain set of feet but never got close enough to see them.”  

“Not Sam’s?”

She shakes her head, her curls bouncing as her cheeks flood with color.

His heart may eat that snake.  There is no room for jealousy here tonight.  “Oh? Whose boots were you hoping to find, may I ask?”

She smiles as their eyes meet.  “Who’s got a kiss for the Pickety Witch, Jon?”

He licks his lips and grins back at her before cupping her satiny cheek.  “I do.”    

#jonsa #jonsa fanfiction #vivilove-jonsa fic

[seriouslyhooked]

Feels Like This (Part 10)

Emma Swan is a once lost girl who is now making good. She has made a way in the world for her and her young son, Henry, and after years of hard work, Emma is in her last stretch of schooling for the career she’s always wanted. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a tiny nation no one’s ever heard of for her last year of study. She knows nothing about the place except that it’s beautiful, has a world-renowned child life program, and is filled with possibility. Meanwhile, Prince Killian is hardly happy with the title he received at birth. As the second in line for the crown, Killian has long tried shaking his royal duties. He built a career in the royal navy, and has stayed out of the limelight, but his ship has been called to port indefinitely at the request of his brother, the King. Fate (in her many forms) brings Emma and Killian together and the resulting fic is a cute, fluffy, trope filled romp featuring heart felt moments, a healthy dose of insta-love and an assured happily ever after. Story rated M and will have 12 parts. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hi everybody! I am so excited to FINALLY be back with a new chapter of a fic that so many of you have fallen in love with. This response has been truly unprecedented in my writing experience. I have had lots of fics that many of you rooted for and supported me in, and I am always so grateful for that, but having a hiatus from writing this story showed me just how invested so many of you are. This is a great feeling as a writer, and that excitement you all have is the only reason I have been able to write more of this fic. My ability to write at my usual pace has been tested this fall, and there’s been some ups and downs in my attempts to reengage, but I love this story and I am so excited to share the rest of it with you all. I hope you will all like this new installment, I thank you again for continuing this with me, and I cannot wait to hear what you think!

“Mmmm, this smells delicious,” Henry said, hovering over the skillet not for the first time this evening, and breathing in the pasta sauce Killian had been working on the past half hour. To the boy’s credit, it did smell absolutely wonderful, a comforting classic anyone would love, and which the three of them had earned, after a day of unexpected meetings and introductions. This pasta was a traditional Montennaran recipe, not far off from a classic Sicilian pomodoro, but with the benefit of a few of this country’s specialties. It was a favorite of his personally, and one of the few meals he’d learned to cook well during his time in the service.

“Seriously. Who knew you could cook like this?” Emma said, still stunned at the display before them. She must have assumed from pizza night and the slow cooking speed of their first date  that he was fully a novice, and he was in many ways. But he did have a few small tricks up his sleeves, and one was this sauce, which was easy to make as long as he had the right ingredients. It was quick, but precise, and it gave off the perception that he had mastered something difficult, even though that wasn’t true.

“This dish is a special one for me and for my unit. This is the spread each of us waited for during deployments. You crave so many things when you’re without them for so long, but this meal symbolized something else. The moment we’d touch down on Montennaran soil, this is the first thing we would eat. It represents safety just as much as it does a good meal.”

“You always had this?” Henry asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “No matter what time?”

“Breakfast, lunch, or dinner. This was it,” Killian said, smiling at the memory of early morning pasta meals that he’d enjoyed more than most other moments in his time at sea. Those were the times when they all felt at peace again, and where they allowed themselves to breathe and heal no matter what dark moments had been withstood. “We took turns preparing it, tired as we’d all be from the tour and the travel, but the pressure was on. The last thing you want to do is disappoint newly anchored sailors. It’s a mistake that may just be your last.”

“No kidding,” Henry said, surprised but taking the words at face value. “It sounds so cool though. Being in the Navy, I mean. You meet all those people, people who are your family too even if you’re not related.”

“Aye, lad, they are my family. Always will be.”

“I can’t wait to meet them someday,” Henry said eagerly. Killian noticed Emma tense a bit but she didn’t need to worry. It was always his intention to introduce them all, because it was his plan to keep Emma and Henry with him forever. “Will it be like today do you think?”

“That depends on how you think today went.”

Killian’s quip earned a laugh from Henry and a soft smile from Emma. He was teasing as if the afternoon had been anything but excellent, when of course that was not the case. Despite the unexpected nature of it all, his family had been on their best behavior and they’d all immediately loved Emma and her boy. He knew in his heart they would, but it took a lot of pressure off and hopefully would help ease some of Emma’s worries about where this was going and if his family would approve.

“Today was totally awesome!” Henry said. “Everyone was so nice and cool. But Gran was definitely my favorite.”

“For now maybe,” Killian said, knowing full well what the draw of his Gran was and how her energy and feistiness made her infinitely lovable. “But give it time. My Mum and Liam both have a few more tricks up their sleeves.”

“What did you think of today, Mom?” Henry asked, and Killian was intrigued to know her thoughts. He doubted that Emma would go very deep with her assessment, but she was always honest with her son, of that Killian was totally assured.

“It was… easy,” Emma confessed, smiling at the memories of the day. “I never expected to feel so welcomed right away, but everyone was so normal, it was nice.”

“Normal is pushing it a bit, love. My grandmother’s revelations alone somewhat undermine my family’s classification as something so benign.”

“Maybe,” Emma said with a shrug. “But the families I’ve seen all have some kind of well-meaning meddling, don’t they? Hers just has a bit more royal flare.”

“Oh, Gran’s got flare all right. No doubt about that,” Henry said cheekily as he took the dishes and silverware from Emma and headed to the dining room to set the table.

It wasn’t a statement the boy had meant to be impactful, but it hit Killian right in the heart. That was another special moment from today. There was no formality with his family and Henry and Emma, and he had witnessed the moment his grandmother insisted that Henry call her Gran as well. To have Henry accept that so quickly was a blessing, and another bright spot in what had been a beautiful day.

“And what about you?” Emma asked him when they were alone. “How did you think today went?”

Instinctively Killian turned off the burner, knowing the food was ready to serve but not wanting it to be ruined. He wiped his hands clean of any rogue tomato and then he pulled Emma straight into his arms in one fluid motion. Without pause, he pressed a kiss to her lips that was meant to be soft and nonintrusive in case Henry returned, but quickly morphed to something heated when Emma clutched at his shirt and arched in closer. By the time they pulled apart, he almost forgot the question, but Emma’s curious green eyes prompted him to reassure her of the truth.

“Today was one of the best days I’ve ever known, love. The most important people in my world came together, and if my instincts are correct, it’s gone just about as perfectly as it could. I couldn’t ask for anything more than that…”

“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ hanging in that statement,” she said, running her fingers across his cheek as she looked at him, searching for answers. “Talk to me.”

“It’s just that I -,”

“Okay, table’s set!” Henry said, barreling back into the kitchen and prompting Killian to step back from Emma but to keep his hand in hers.

Emma and Killian exchanged a look that silently said they would pick up this conversation again later, but Killian squeezed her hand in what he hoped was a calming and comforting gesture. The hanging words he’d yet to say were hardly bad ones, he just had to admit that as beautiful as today was he wanted so much more. He’d never have enough days like this one for his liking. He would always want more, no matter what came, and that was what he’d have to ask her for if not today then someday very soon.

Dinner proceeded without a hitch, and not only was his cooking a success, but the meal was fun and lively. Henry made for so much conversation, and his thoughts on the day were long and varied. He was so full of excitement and energy that it was contagious, and Killian learned more from both the boy and his mother about what they’d taken from meeting his family. They all talked about the center too, about Marco and Marie and Cecelia, and then at length about Anna and especially Elsa.

“Do you think anything will come from it?” Emma asked Killian at one point, after they’d already dissected how undeniable the moment was between Emma’s friend and Killian’s brother.

“Oh for sure,” Henry said before Killian could respond. Both Emma and Killian laughed at his confidence.

“You seem rather certain, lad.”

“Well it’s pretty obvious. I mean he looks at Elsa the way you look at Mom. They’re totally gonna get together. It was love at first sight. Just like with you two.”

“Henry,” Emma said, chastising him somewhat but in a measured way.

“What?”

“Well not for nothing, but you didn’t even see Killian and I meet how could you know it was…”

“Love at first sight?” Killian offered, grinning at her, knowing in his heart that was exactly what they’d felt the moment they laid eyes on each other.

“Exactly.”

“Oh, come on, Mom,” Henry said, rolling his eyes in a move Killian rarely ever saw, but which looked exactly like his mother when she was exasperated. He nearly choked on his water, but he powered through, biting back a laugh at Emma’s shocked face. “It was totally love. You came home extra happy and you had a dreamy look on your face all the time when Killian started volunteering. And since then you’ve been kinda… what does Mrs. H call it again? Oh right, scatterbrained. Love can do that, you know. I asked Gran about it today and she said it’s a telltale sign.”

“You asked her that?” Emma asked, shocked and maybe just a little bit mortified as Henry nodded like it was no big deal.

“Yup. She knows everything. She said that’s what happens when you’re old, and since Mrs. H says that too I think it’s probably true. Come to think of it, they’d be great friends don’t you think?”

“Mrs. H and Queen Eleanor?” Emma asked, as if the thought of their neighbor and Killian’s grandmother being ‘friends’ was too much to handle. “Well I mean, now that you mention it, there are a few similarities there.”

“Totally. And if Mrs. H was here she’d agree with me about Liam and Elsa. It’s totally love, and that’s awesome. Queen Elsa. It has a nice ring to it. Like she was meant to be a royal.”

Killian didn’t think Elsa was the only one with a name suited for royalty. In his estimation Princess Emma and even Prince Henry were rather fitting as well, but he bit that statement back, not wanting to overwhelm Emma or bring something up in front of Henry that she wasn’t ready for. Instead he steered the conversation in other directions, enjoying himself thoroughly as they all enjoyed dessert together that Emma had put together before watching a movie the three of them. It was a totally natural thing, and at more than one point Killian thought that they really looked like a family. It filled his heart with hope, and he wished one day he could officially claim both of them as his. But tonight, he’d just enjoy how good it felt to be with two such special people who seemed to see something in him too.

“Okay, kid, it’s about that time. It’s late already, so PJs and then you can read two chapters and then that’s all she wrote. You got me?”

“Sure, Mom. But can I read to Killian tonight? I’m at a great part in the story. The pirates are about to board the ship.”

“Um, I’m not – I mean, if you want?” Emma asked deferring to him though she was obviously flustered.

“Sounds good to me,” Killian said prompting relief in Emma and a sound of excitement from Henry.

Henry hurried to get himself ready for bed, and just as he’d promised, he proceeded to read Killian two chapters of his current book. The title was one Killian recognized from his youth, but he was impressed that a ten year old had such command of the story. Henry was a good reader but also theatrical, keeping Killian’s attention all the while. Only when he closed the book did Killian leave the swashbuckling alternative universe the story took place in.

“Quite the tale there, lad. You’ll have to keep me apprised of what happens next.”

“No need, I’ll save it until you come back again,” Henry said easily, gesturing to his bookcase which was full of books in so many shades and shapes. “I’ve got tons of them to read.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Killian said truthfully standing back up and heading towards the door. “Well thanks again for the story, Henry. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Killian,” Henry said, letting out a yawn and settling into bed. “Love you.”

The words placed a direct hit on Killian’s heart, and he was unsure if Henry had meant to say it or if sleep was getting the better of him, but Killian could only go on instinct. He answered honestly, telling the boy he loved him too and seeing him smile and settle to sleep before slipping into the hall and walking right into Emma who had tears in her eyes.

“Emma?” he asked, mindful to keep his voice more a whisper than something that could wake up Henry. “Is everything all right?”

“He said he loves you,” Emma whispered, and Killian nodded, brushing her tears away as he held her close.

“He did, love, and it made me feel ten feet tall.”

“Because you love him too,” she whispered, awed at that as if were some kind of stunning revelation and not a given fact of life.

“Of course I do. He’s an amazing boy, and his mother… well she’s the beating of my heart. How could I do anything but love him when he’s a piece of you, Emma?”

“What were you going to say earlier?” Emma asked, abruptly pulling them back to that moment in the kitchen. He debated holding back, but he decided ultimately it was better to put all of his cards on the table. Transparency was key if they had any shot of making this work.

“I was going to say that you, Emma Swan, are the reason. You’re my reason for everything, this impossible gift I never saw coming, and I’m lost in you. I see this perfect moment and forever when I look in your eyes, I see a life I’m desperate to pursue and real hope for the future. I still can’t believe that you’ve chosen me and that I’m standing here with you at all, and a day as good as this one only reminds me that I’ll always have this want - this need - for you. I love you, Emma, irrefutably, incandescently. In a forever and so much longer kind of way.”

“I love you too. Just as much,” Emma said, her voice stronger this time though her tears still came. They appeared to be the product of joy instead of sadness, but they still clutched at his chest like a vice. The only antidote was pulling Emma somewhere private, in this case her bedroom, and confirming he was right.

Once the door was closed behind them, locking them into a sound tight suite on the other end of Emma’s temporary home, their actions blended together. He didn’t lead the way, but moved with Emma, a dance that felt so much more practiced than it was. Emma pulled him for steamy kisses, and he savored her taste on his tongue as he held her close and moved her back towards the bed in her room. The lights were dimmed, but washed the room in a warmth he felt upon his skin. He was burning up from the closeness and the promise of what was to come, but the only thing he could think was that he needed more.

In the back of his mind, Killian also realized that this moment needed quiet. With Henry in the house, they didn’t have the freedom he might yearn for, but no matter. He had the love of the most incredible woman and she’d accepted his love in return. That needed celebration and merited some long-desired reveling. He wanted to show her how he felt, and though he’d finally said the words and attempted to make her understand, the feelings he had went so much deeper. Looking in her eyes right now, he could tell she felt just as much, but the time for waiting and wondering was over. They had put the truth between them and now it was time to truly immerse themselves in it.

Instinct and hunger soon took over for Killian, melding with the love he felt and the softer feelings in his heart in a wickedly wonderful way. He wanted Emma bared to him as soon as could be, spread out on the sheets of this bed and ready for his taking. They’d been flirting with the pleasures they could have for a while now, and they’d been intimate before, but this was different. This was a first in many ways, and Killian was intent on having this moment be one they wouldn’t rush, and that they’d remember for the rest of their lives.

A primal voice in his brain urged him to take her fast and hard, to make a claim they’d both feel branded by, but Killian anchored himself to an idea of something slower and more sensual. He knew taking his time would prove so much more gratifying, and he wanted to make this as good for his Swan as it could possibly be. He helped Emma out of clothes, noticing the tremble of her hands as he did. She was buzzing with excitement and electricity, but she matched his pace, understanding that if they drove each other crazy for just a little longer it would be sublime.

He was entranced by her entirely, and as her clothes from the day fell away, revealing two extremely unexpected scraps of red lace underneath, he couldn’t help but groan. No woman had a right to be so lovely, to claw at him so surely, and to set him alight in this way, but God did he love it. Emma was impossible, but somehow she was real. He felt her responsiveness to him and tracked the way that she noticed how his appreciative gaze moved up her body. A flush spread across her creamy skin, but she stood there, proud and sure as her hands moved across his body, removing his clothes as he’d done hers.

“I didn’t know that I could want this much,” she whispered, the honey-laced tone of her voice a sweet melody to his ears. “I need you, Killian. I love you.”

“Fuck me,” he grumbled, surprising her by taking her in his arms and lowering her to the bed. She let out a gasp before giving into laughter, her eyes bright and sparkling in the lamp light.

“Believe me, I’m trying,” she quipped, but her feistiness faded somewhat as he shed the rest of his clothes. Now her attention had switched, she was watching him steadily, and unconsciously licked her lips. That was it. His patience broke and he was on her, hands roaming, mouth teasing, and hellbent on more.

“Much as I might love that idea, Swan, tonight isn’t about fucking. Tonight I make love to the woman of my dreams. Tonight I show you my heart in full. It’s so much more than sex.”

“I know,” Emma whispered, running her hands along his cheek. “So show me.”

Bound by her request, Killian set out to do just that. It began with roaming hands and removing the last two scraps of red that shielded her from him. Once she was bare, he let himself explore and learn every spot and lick and nip that made her breathless. He traced the sensitive places on her body that made her hum in pleasure, and cherished each freckle on her skin that had come from the summer sun. He riled her up with his hands and his mouth until she was pleading for release, and then he gave it to her, touching her tender flesh and prompting a thready moan from her lips.

“Killian.” Emma’s croon was ragged and gorgeous, making him harder than he ever thought possible.  The sound of her desire reached within his soul and engulfed him completely. Unable to resist, he felt himself growing addicted, unsure if he could ever stop. He needed her sighs like he needed to breath, and he purposefully pulled as many sounds of pleasure from her as he could.

There was nothing like Emma lost in lust. She’d never been more beautiful and he didn’t know how that was possible. As his thumb swirled against her clit and his fingers filled her, she gave more away, revealing herself and her needs in ways that made him dizzy. Every response set Killian aflame, and every breathy sigh and plea for more was a sign he intended to follow until he’d led her right over the edge and she shattered beneath him.

“You destroy me, love,” he found himself saying as he looked down at her and brushed some strands of her curled blonde hair out of her eyes. “Destroy me and make me into so much more. I’m in awe of you.”

In the face of her release, and the sincere words that he meant completely, Emma blushed again but smiled. Her expression was one he’d only ever seen her share with him, and it made him feel indestructible. He’d never met a person with more impact on his soul, and he’d never met a woman who so effortlessly created hope and good in his heart. Emma Swan was everything a man could ever want made real, and Killian still couldn’t comprehend how he was lucky enough to be here.

“I can’t imagine this is real,” Emma said, her words still dazed, but happy and content. “But I know it is. I know you are. I’m in this, Killian. I’ve never been more in.”

“Thank God for that, love,” Killian said with a grin and one more kiss before he trailed lower.

With careful attentions designed for maximum pleasure, Killian hit each peak point on her body, bestowing licks and nips that made her jump and mewl. By the time he’d reached her inner thighs, she was breathing heavy, anticipation clear as day. Killian looked up to her now emerald colored eyes as his hands held her steady, needing to know that this was what she wanted and what he saw was irrefutable. Emma was just as desirous for this as he was, and Killian was never so glad for anything in his life.

When his tongue met her sex, he tasted her need for him. Her body writhed beneath him, but he held her still, knowing she needed this from him now. She was wound up tight, the desire twisting around inside her and making her try to break away, but he built it up wanting to give her something she’d never get enough of. With slow, languid licks, he built the moment for him and her. The higher she climbed, the more crazed he himself became, but he waited until she shattered again to take his own pleasure. Once she had, though, all bets were off.

Their coming together was sensational serenity, walking the line between hard and gentle, tender and heated. Further and further they moved towards bliss, but time was off its normal tracks and their minds were filled with only this glorious moment. Soon enough, and yet not soon enough at all, they met that magic, crashing into climax. Minutes later they remained, both spent and breathing heavy, glowing from the aftermath and intertwined together, two bodies hell bent on never being parted. Killian found himself speechless in the aftermath, though his hands drew unknown figures on her skin. He had to touch her, had to hold her, even though he had just felt heaven itself. Truth be told, Killian was totally complete, and more invigorated than ever. Life had never felt more perfect and nothing had ever made more sense.

These revelations were all thanks to Emma. She was the one who made him believe love could be honest and true. She showed him depths he’d never dreamed of, and right now, as the swift and gentle tug of sleep came beckoning, she was a vision. Smiling at him, holding him close and whispering a promise he almost couldn’t bear.

“Forever, Killian,” she breathed, cuddling towards his chest after pressing one last kiss upon his skin. “That’s how long I know I’ll love you.”

“Forever, Emma,” he replied, though he knew even now she may already have succumbed to slumber. “Forever and whatever exists beyond.”

……………

Sneaking back into the castle now was a stark contrast to the many mornings he’d snuck out for a bit of space. Killian couldn’t resist smiling at how much things had changed since that time, and on those days when he walked out in the hills to watch the sunrise. However, unlike those other mornings, Killian knew the moment he walked through the great oak doors that he was not the only one up at this God forsaken hour. Call it instinct or intuition, but Killian could sense uneasiness in the palace, and as he moved up the corridor and saw light emanating from one of Liam’s studies, his hunch was proven right.  

With measured steps he approached the open door. It remained ajar, a beacon to anyone who may pass by that his brother was here but still approachable. What Killian saw when he walked to the doorway, however, was the undeniable truth that Liam was not well, and that he likely had no idea the door was open. He’d been up all night, burning the midnight oil, and studying files and photos strewn about his desk.

“For your information, you’re about…” Killian’s words trailed off as he checked the clock on the mantel to clarify the time, “twenty-two and a half minutes from being discovered by Francine or Claudette. Give or take or minute or so.”

The mention of two of the maids on the morning shift in the palace seemed to ground Liam into the reality of this moment and the predawn light outside. He looked up at Killian and then out the antique windows which offered a familiar view of the palace grounds, now bathed in the early morning sunshine. Liam let out a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair that had already been mussed with some frequency. There was no way his brother had slept this evening. He was wild and unkempt, and so far from his state of normal it was fascinating to see.

“Any other day and I’d be focused on your early morning return,” Liam mused, offering something like a smile. It surprised Killian, given how infrequent smiles had become for his brother, but before he could mention it, Liam looked back to the papers and the books strewn about the mahogany desk. Killian wasn’t sure what he expected, but these archives of the family’s public events was not it. His curiosity grew, and he urged his brother to explain himself.

“But it’s not so ordinary, is it?”

“No, she isn’t,” Liam whispered, slipping up and referring to the woman who had turned his head completely, instead of the morning itself. “I didn’t plan for this.”

“No one ever does,” Killian quipped. “Gran will be the first to tell you that to love is to surrender. Planning has no place in affairs of the heart.”

“That old bird is too crafty,” Liam said shaking his head as Killian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “All these years of talk, throwing opinions here there and everywhere. She never met a moment where words failed her and she never lets a day slip past where she doesn’t share her every whim. But I’ve always written it off as her opinion or some grandiose turn of phrase that sounds ripped from a book of clichés rather than something rooted in truth.”

“The worst are the riddles. The woman loves a riddle,” Killian added and Liam groaned, a sound of actual pain that Killian felt, despite its humor.

“I hate the bloody things. The flowery words, the abstract philosophies. It’s all just meaningless. Or so I thought. A whole life spent listening to this woman, and I never took much of it seriously. To be sure there were some times when she offered sage counsel, but I found it unlikely that she was actually providing me with answers to anything really sentimental. Half the time she’s as vague as can be. I wrote off nearly all her musings for the better part of my life.”

“Yet here we are,” Killian said evenly and Liam nodded.

“Aye, here we are.”

Liam stood from his chair and walked towards the windows. Killian watched as his brother’s arms crossed over his chest, his gaze turned out to the world, looking but not really seeing. He was lost in his own thoughts, struggling to give voice to them, and so Killian was patient. There was no use dragging Liam to conversation. His brother was guarded and grappling for control. Only when he was ready, would the truth come out. A few minutes later, after a prolonged bit of silence, they finally did.  

“I’ve long put off the inevitable, brother. Royal expectation demands that I choose a bride, but for years I’ve hesitated, unwilling to commit to any kind of match. The press has questioned my delay for ages, but that talk is mostly harmless. Still, I have always known that would change. A day would come when talk became more, and I needed to settle, to choose duty over heart.”

“You’ve said as much before, brother, but nothing in the law says that you have to forsake your heart for the sake of the country. A love match is allowed. You know this.”

“Aye, I do, but I never entertained the premise, not really. After our parents’ fiasco of a marriage, I ruled it out entirely. My best hope was for what had existed before, something arranged where, if I was lucky, love may bloom. Look at Gran and Grandad. It was love, absolutely, but it was also a merger. There was very little choice involved at all, just logic and good reasoning. At least in those situations you know what you’re getting into. There’s a safety in settling for that which is known. But fuck if I want that anymore. Truth be told the thought makes me sick, and I barely spoke to her.”

“To Elsa, you mean?” Killian prodded and Liam’s eyes brightened as he nodded.

“How can she move me like this already? One day in her presence and I hardly know myself. One day and I know that everything I thought would happen will never come to pass. I’ll never be the man that settles, not when I know she’s out there. I can’t describe it except to say that I have to know her, have to pursue this, have to hope she’ll give me a chance. I’ve never felt this out of my depths. I saw her and the rest of the world just ceased to matter. I wasn’t the King, or a ruler, or a politician. I had no duty and no course. I was just a man, and she was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, plain and simple. I know it’s mad, but damn if it’s not true.”

“If it’s mad, you’re in good company. That’s exactly how I felt the first time I saw Emma.”

“That’s reassuring, and yet… it’s the strangest thing, I swear I looked at Elsa and I was halfway in a memory. I was a boy again, but the details were hazy. It just felt familiar, like we’ve met before. My heart had skipped that particular beat. My gut had felt that strongly. Now though I’m lost. I’ve been trying to figure out if it’s more than what it is. Maybe I missed something, but how could anyone ever miss her?”

“Ah that explains these books,” Killian said gesturing to everything here. “But let me guess, no sign of her in these.”

“None. But the feeling still lingers. It’s like I dreamed her up. The recognition is strong, but just barely out of grasp. God, listen to me. I’ve become an absolute melt.”

Killian couldn’t help but laugh at the slang of their youth. Their boarding schools had been filled with Brits and other Europeans, and to be a melt was to be a sop, a sap, someone who had given in to their most romantic feelings.

“Maybe, but if that’s true, God knows I’m happy for it.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am. I’ve always wanted more for you, Liam. You shouldn’t aim for mere contentment, or to just be comforted by honor and duty. The goal is to be genuinely, honestly happy, and this morning, despite the anxiety of newness, I see the start of something in you. Something good.”

“I fear I’ve been too hard on you, Killian,” Liam said, his voice softer and his tone sincere. “Not lately I mean, and hopefully you’ve noticed the shift over the past few weeks, but in the beginning, I didn’t see how you could feel so much. I asked a lot of you, with the parade and royal obligations, and I didn’t realize what the risk was. Slowly I’ve grown to understand that the changes in you I have seen can only be attributed to love. You are happy and it is clear for the world to see. I’ve respected that, but now to know it’s more than hypothetical, I just think it bears repeating. To lose this feeling…” Liam brushed his hand against his heart absentmindedly, as if his chest ached from some physical pain. “Anyway, I hate that I forced that choice upon you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s forgiven, brother. Well, it will be, if you grant me one wish.”

“Anything.”

“I’d like your blessing, and not a royal one, not a King’s well wishes. Just you, as my brother, backing me when I ask Emma to be my wife.”

The look of surprise on Liam’s face quickly morphed into a grin. There was his brother of old, the one who had existed before royal training. He was truly happy and a bit mischievous as well. The two of them had long been told they shared that smile, but coming from Liam, it felt like a most precious gift.

“You plan to ask her already?”

“Already?” Killian laughed. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever. But I suppose you’re right. It is fast.”

“Fast seems to run in this family,” Liam said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have said that before yesterday, but as it stands, I understand. You have my backing, Killian. Emma is right for you, and if she’ll have you, we’d be lucky to have her.”

Liam came around the table, hugging Killian and showing him the depth of his joy. It was genuine, this support from his brother, and it made a world of difference. No matter what, Killian would ask Emma to be his wife, but knowing that his family felt as good about this as he did settled something in him. Now all he had to do was find the perfect moment. It was hard to be patient, especially when they’d admitted how they felt, and when he knew his feelings for Emma would only ever grow, but he’d find away. More than anything he wanted Emma to have a perfect moment, one they could build their future on forever more.

“And what of you and Elsa? Where do you go from here?”

“The only way I can go,” Liam said, resuming his assured control even though he was at the precipice of something totally foreign to him. “Towards her.”

“Good man. Trust in that feeling. It’s yet to steer me wrong.”

The two of them would have no doubt shared more, but at that moment, the voices of the morning staff could be heard down the hall. Their privacy had expired, the day had dawned, and reality beckoned, yet Killian knew even without proof, that things would work out. For now, there was a tremendous amount of hope for both him and Liam, hope that had been missing for many many years. Things may still be a bit uncertain, hearts needed to be won and vows needed to be made, but in his soul, Killian knew it would all work out. For Gran was usually right in the end, and he and Liam would both certainly surrender to love. Killian, for his part, already had, and honestly, it was the best damn thing he’d ever done. Soon, though, he would need to do more, to take the steps he so badly wanted with Emma, and to build a life with her and Henry worthy of them both. It was a mission he felt down to his bones, and one he simply would not fail. He’d find a way to their happily ever after, whatever it may look like, and the excitement of that would keep him going as long as it took.

Post-Note: So there we have it – a new chapter of this story, and the setup for the next chapter which will have more of the Elsa/Anna backstory for you all. From there we get to move towards my typical happily ever after recipe, a proposal, a wedding, and the joyful thereafter.  I think there’s going to be about 4 more installments left total (though one of those will be an epilogue and it may be quite a while before I am ready to publish that). But I promise to do my best to update more frequently than I have been. I have had so many of you sending love and wishes for faster updates, and those requests have not fallen on deaf ears. In fact, every comment and message makes writing that much easier, and I am so grateful for the overwhelming support. I promise I am doing my best to get you all this story, and just hope it’ll live up to everyone’s excited expectations. Either way, I thank you all so much for reading, and I wish you all well and healthy in this time. Sending you all the best!

#captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs smut #cs au #cs au fic #cs au ff #emma swan #killian jones #liam jones #henry mills #the whole storybrooke gang #cs royal au #Prince!Killian #ouat au #ouat royal au #feels like this #feels like this au #feels like this 10

[furashuban]

Visitations (Chapter 2)

Posted a new chapter of one of my Hilda fics for Valentines day!

Pairing: Sketchbook (Johanna / Kaisa)

Words: 2951

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28469292/chapters/72318120

A plate of cucumber sandwiches occupied the center of the dinner table, next to it was a vase holding a single pale rose. The tea kettle screeched in a deafening volume which prompted Johanna to lift it off the stove. She then looked down her wrist to check the time on her watch. Two in the afternoon, it read. Johanna wondered anxiously if the librarian was even coming to her place or not.

Kaisa was the curator of a massive collection of books yet somehow, she never questioned what her schedule was even like. She only knew that the librarian would come and visit on the day the book of Winter Tales needed to be picked up, and the date on the library card had been slipped in the book for Johanna to not even forget. Maybe she got too excited. Perhaps the librarian was meant to come at dusk, and she had prepared a batch of sandwiches and tea that would be awfully lukewarm by the time she arrived.

All of a sudden, two knocks on the door were heard behind the brunette. Quickly did her heart pound and her hair rise rather stiffly. It had to be the librarian, even if it was too incidental since Hilda and Twig would have just barged into the apartment if they were arriving home. Johanna took a deep breath and hurriedly paced to the door. Keep it together, she thought before reaching for the door. Welcoming an acquaintance into her home was not a matter of life and death.

She turned the knob and pulled the entrance open. In front of her stood a slightly shorter woman with purple highlights and a black cloak, raising her arm as though she was about to knock again. She was gaping at Johanna, whose face was nearly reddening the moment she laid eyes on the librarian wearing a burgundy scarf wrapped around her collar.

“Kaisa.” said Johanna, content and effervescent. “Lovely seeing you here.”

“Like I said,” Kaisa spoke. “I’d come to pick up the book once the date is due and well, that would be today.”

“Yes, of course.” agreed Johanna. “I love your scarf by the way. It suits your cloak quite nicely... Did I mention before that I love your cloak? ‘Cause well, I really do and...” she shuts herself up, embarrassed and glancing the other way.  

Kaisa chuckled. “Thank you.” she said. “I don’t usually wear scarves, but since it’s so cold, I thought I should.”

“Well, let’s not waste time and come right in.” Johanna said, giving way for the librarian to step into her abode.

Kaisa looked around, noticing each detail from the tidiness of the living room to the setup of the kitchen and dining room. It was toasty warm, and the aroma of nutmeg and ginger drifted in the air.

“Quite a cozy place you have, Johanna.” she remarked.

“You should have seen my old house when I still lived in the wilderness.” said Johanna. “It was cozier than the coziest place you can think of.”

“You mean my library?” Kaisa joked, to which Johanna flushed.

The librarian stood next to the dining table, glancing down on the setup presented while her smile was soft and ample. This was her first date, of course it was hard not to feel flattered by Johanna’s plan to welcome her, even if she figured how things such as this were going to play out. Meanwhile, Johanna paced to the kitchen to fill two cups with hot water from the kettle.

“Please, do take a seat.” Johanna said, dipping bags of peppermint tea into the cups. “You came in just in time. Everything is still fresh.”

Kaisa followed. She adored how Johanna did not immediately bring attention to the book that needed to be returned to her. Of course, it hardly mattered, as it remained a ruse for Kaisa to spend time with the brunette. Winter Tales can wait.

Johanna sat on her side of the table and offered Kaisa’s cup of tea. The scent of peppermint exuding from the hot water, coupled with the rose in the vase, pacified the librarian’s state of mind. She reached for the batch of cucumber sandwiches in unison with Johanna and bumped into each other's fingers. The two of them withdrew in awkwardness, the brunette then insisted Kaisa to pick one up first. As soon as she did, her first bite of the velvety snack keyed up her joyance.

“Best sandwich I’ve ever had.” Kaisa spoke, her eyes dilating.

“Pleasure is all mine.” nodded Johanna.

There was mostly silence at first while Kaisa and Johanna each partook a sandwich. Both of them waited for the other to bring up something they could bond over, but to no avail. The feel to go beyond exchanging glances and smiles grew stronger every second, so Kaisa was swift to recollect whatever things Johanna had told her only a moment ago.

“So, tell me about it.” Kaisa then asked.

“About what?”

Kaisa chewed on a morsel of her sandwich. “Life in the wilderness.” she uttered after quickly swallowing.

“Oh, right. Well...it was quiet, and rather cozy. I’d say dangerous, too, if you didn’t know your way around.“ she pulled the tea bag out of her mug and set it aside. “This would be more of a question for my daughter, Hilda. I think she has more exciting stories to tell about the wilderness than I do.”

“Surely.” Kaisa grinned. “But what I also want to know is, why did you move to the wilderness?”

Johanna sat in silence, tapping her cup as she dived into deep thought. If there was one person whose asked that question before, it would have to be Kaisa.

“...I suppose being a Sparrow Scout gave me a taste for the outdoors.” she spoke. “Living in the wilderness by myself was all I’ve ever wanted to do during my badge-collecting days. You see, there was always so many things to behold and sketch out there, and much, much more outside the walls. Of course, I wasn’t allowed to venture off anywhere without getting punished so when I finally grew up and could, I tracked this wooden house my great-grandad built some time ago, and there I lived doing what I wanted. Just a lot of wandering, sketching, and it didn’t take long for me to encounter a forest giant for the first time either. Thankfully, I knew from my old books that giants didn’t eat any humans, so it carried on while I mapped out its stature.”

“Sounds like you were pretty happy moving out.” she glanced back at Johanna, diverted how she actually had an exciting story to tell after all. “The adventures you must have had.”

“Well, I wasn’t too keen on adventure afterwards.” admitted Johanna. “Having to deal with creatures and spirits became a hassle. It’s why I stopped drawing them, it’s even why me and Hilda moved to Trollberg. Well, then again, it didn’t seem to matter since a few months ago I...” she paused, hesitant to recount either her kidnapping by the Yule Lads or seeing the Barghest in her home. “...Never mind. But basically, you’d be shocked just how overwhelming it is out there compared to Trollberg,”

“Still, I would have loved to see life outside the walls, too.” Kaisa said. “You already make it sound like fun.”

“I’m sure you’d love it, Kaisa.” grinned Johanna. “No one’s ever been interested in my life in the wilderness before. It feels nice talking about it without raising eyebrows for once.”

“What can I say? I can’t help with a good story.” Kaisa placed her hand under her chin.

The two kindled the room with more conversation, and ones where Johanna felt unnoticeably confident to engage with the librarian. She continued to compare her life in Trollberg to the wilderness, as well as being the mother of a young, adamant yet good-natured adventurer whom she passed her knowledge down to. It was all stories she knew how to tell, where she could begin and where to end, but the validation of being asked about and listened to without belittlement consoled her too much from her worries of over-explaining. It was especially plain sailing for Kaisa to be charmed by the brunette’s anecdotes; she could never grow tired of the calm and affable tone of her voice.

“You know, I thought if we moved, I wouldn’t have to worry about Hilda being in danger anymore,“ sighed Johanna. “But she’s only gotten into more of it behind my back. Sometimes I don’t know if it was right to consider moving after living in the wilderness for too long, even if the giant had stomped on our house. I just wanted to keep her safe, and…”

“Well, I think bringing Hilda and yourself here was not a bad idea at all.” Kaisa spoke when Johanna paused for too long. “You gave her a new perspective towards life in a place she hardly thought about, and that’s important for a girl like her. So don’t stress yourself out. You’re not wrong to think about her safety either.”

Johanna sipped on her tea. “I suppose I’ll leave it at that for now.” she said. “But I appreciate it, Kaisa, really.”

Kaisa was a quieter, more secretive woman in contrast. There were things she was not supposed to reveal so casually to her, nor did she feel like she was ready to explain but wished otherwise. Her acquaintance with Hilda and her friends as well as life in the tower of witches, not even the fact that she would be banished to an endless void if a book was overdue, yet that was the most interesting thing she could illuminate! She was happy, however, that after years of reading stories to herself, she indulged in someone’s stories with the person who lived through them actually narrating to her in person.

The batch of cucumber sandwiches went from a pyramid to a nearly empty plateau, as only a couple remained on the plate. But the two were now stuffed, both in appetite and in discussion. Even the tea was almost finished, and Kaisa had never known such a pleasant combination until now.

Johanna promptly arose from her seat. “Right, before I forget,” said Johanna “Better give back that book of yours...”

In the living room, Kaisa stood and awaited Johanna, who walked from her bedroom with the book of Winter Tales in her hands. The brunette handed it over, and the librarian opened its cover to pull out the library card. While still cradling the book with the card on top of the exterior, she pulled out a meager red stamp from her pocket and marked the tip against a box on the receipt. The book was officially returned to the keeper of books.

“Do you just have stamps with you everywhere you go?” inquired Johanna half-jokingly.

“On occasions like this, yes.” the librarian withdrew her stamp.

With a mid-afternoon dinner finished and a book returned to the library, Johanna and Kaisa had nothing else prearranged for them. They stared into one another’s eyes, pondering if their day was spent to the fullest.

“Well, it was nice coming here.” Kaisa continued. “I wished I wasn’t leaving so soon.”

“Me neither.” Johanna countered. “Something about you makes me feel...well....secure, I guess? Like, I can just spend a lifetime with you and never be upset that you’re with me-” she hastily covered her mouth.

Kaisa blushed, the flattery was too much for her to process. “You really mean it?” she could only ask.

Johanna’s arms folded and writhed, suffering from her bashfulness. “Very much.” she replied softly, her grin formed just as brightly as the woman in front of her.

Before long, Kaisa perceived the drawing table beside Johanna, remembering when she talked about sketching in the outdoors. Immediately, she was fascinated to look at the kinds of drawings Johanna sketched during her wilderness years, even the ones she seemed to be doing now. Johanna noticed her eyeing on the papers against the table.

“Oh, those are just some rough drafts.” she pointed out. “I’m doing commissions for the Bellmakers Corporation. Sometimes they give me a little too much to work on, to be honest.”

An imaginary light bulb sparked above Kaisa’s head. “Listen, Johanna... I’m not supposed to do stuff like this but,” she spoke. “Do you want to see something cool?”

Johanna looked concern. “Um...”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Kaisa winked. “You might want to step back a bit.”

There was a spell that Kaisa enjoyed casting when she first trained to become a witch. Even if it had been a long time since she tried it again, she could not let the opportunity slip by while she remained in the presence of both Johanna and her pile of sketches. The Committee of Three would be crossed to know that the keeper of the books would casually reveal her magic to an outsider once again, not like Kaisa cared anyway. Just one last time, she thought.

The librarian placed the Winter Tales book down on the coffee table. She then pulled out her wand, hoisting it against her face as she closed her eyes. She pictured and hoped for a scenario to occur from reciting the incantation, then waving it around in circles until a purple, glimmering spark to manifest on the tip.

 “Frah min tilyera uppfilor vara augon nit!”

Upon reciting the last word, Kaisa opened her eyes and aimed her wand at Johanna’s drafting table. A dazzling ray of light blasted from the wand and jostled the drawing endlessly. It looked as though it was destroying the artwork, yet the paper was unscathed under its collision. Johanna screeched for a fracture of a second and leaned backwards, completely spooked by what she was witnessing. Kaisa continued to hold her grip on the wand, feeling her hair, cloak and scarf fluttering backwards from the force of her magic, then she finally heaved the sprig for the laser to blip out of existence.

The outlines of Johanna’s sketches gleamed a tint of neon purple until the outlines themselves hovered out of the paper, levitating above the space between Johanna and Kaisa. Several types of bells from wedding bells, sleigh bells, carillons and chimes—all with Johanna’s unfinished patterns—swung smoothly like fireflies. They sounded a jingle like that of a grandfather clock, hence the worry to alarm neighbors of a false troll attack was inconsequential.  

“What on earth…” mouthed Johanna, gazing at the glowing bells.

Kaisa cleared her throat to get Johanna’s attention. She held her wand by the pommel like a conductor’s baton and waved her arms in a four-four pattern. Her arms swung up, then down, crosswise, then outwards, unhurried yet exaggerated in her movement. The purple bells began to clank harmoniously in a restful tune while other bells provided a drone or percussion. Johanna returned to standing normally, letting the music carry the fright out of her body. Maybe to a troll it was the most agonizing thing to hear up close, but Johanna watched and listened to the bell orchestra in pure wonderment. It was one thing to see her designs come to life in a matter of weeks or months, but to see them immediately jump out of the paper to serenade her was magic she never expected to see nor cherish.

Johanna beamed at the bells and to the witch, chuckled warmly as Kaisa simpered back in return. The song of the bells played for a minute and a half, vibrating changing sequences of notes until they faded into thin air one by one. The final bell rang alone, and it erupted into a small firework. As specs of light and dust hovered in the air, Kaisa withdrew her wand in between her ear and hid her arms in her cloak. She waited for Johanna to break out of her speechlessness.

“You...you were a witch this whole time?” stammered the brunette, her jubilant complexion turned into more of a bewildered gape.

“That’s right.” Kaisa answered, still looking mirthful in contrast. “Keeper of the books, and also a witch. And what you saw was just a little reanimation spell.”

Trivial things from the moment she first met the librarian had all made sense for Johanna now. The cloak should have been a dead giveaway, and so was her premonition to give her the book of Winter Tales.

“That’s extraordinary.” Johanna ran her hand through her mane. “I’ve only known witches through stories from when I was a kid.”

“And I’ve known life as one for, well, almost my whole life really.” Kaisa said.

Feelings were at odds and rollicking in Johanna’s heart and mind. Even Kaisa, now bounding her hands frontward and pouting to the sight of a contemplative Johanna, questioned if it was foolish to reveal her sorcery to someone who considered dealing with creatures and spirits to be a hassle. It did not matter how well she succeeded to make her smile through her magic, she realized, for so many things can only stay momentary until it reconnects with reality. She was looking forward to it, grudgingly of course, that she was going to be shut out by the most cordial woman she had ever met, all because of one mistake.

Johanna walked up to the writhing librarian, unbinding her hands and raising one of them up. Kaisa’s eyes dilated to her hand encased by both of Johanna’s palms.

“Please, tell me this won’t be the last time we’ll meet.” begged Johanna, something sparkling in her eyes.

The librarian’s heart melted. “Of course, silly.” assured Kaisa.

#hilda the series #fanfiction #hilda netflix #hilda the librarian #hilda johanna #hilda kaisa #sketchbook ship #my works

[nobloodneeded]

me drawing fan art and writing background hcs of my latest Warden? Couldn’t be.

Name: Rylan Amell

Orientation: Gay, switch. As a shameless flirt, often people are shocked that he is only attracted to men. He likes to casually drop such a fact into conversation and revel mischievously in the shocked or scandalized reactions. 

Notable moments:

- The time he ran out of mana and lyrium potions and was chased up a tree by a bear that turned out to be a Sylvan in the Brecilian Forest. 

- He and Alistair told Leliana they were all going to jump into Lake Calenhad off the dock together, but on the count of three as Leliana leaped in, they planted their feet so she was the only one who got wet. The two slept in shifts in the same tent that night, but it was worth it. 

- He once drank Oghren under the table at camp only because while the beserker downed his mug, he would throw the drink over his shoulder. Oghren admired Rylan highly after this and boasted about his defeat in good humor while the rest of the party could only bemusedly shake their heads.

- Weeks of Sten muttering to himself new names for the group in Qunlat, Rylan answered him back in the same tongue because he had an affinity for learning languages in the Circle. Similarly, when Zevran got passionate about a topic he would switch to Antivan and it took the assassin a moment to realize Rylan had been carrying a conversation in his native language.

- After the explosion of the Chantry, Hawke and Anders fled Kirkwall as fugitives and set off to find Warden-Commander Rylan; as the Champion’s long-lost relative and the man who conscripted Anders. Rylan and Zevran at the time were on the search for the cure to the Calling. When they had found the two, after pulling them into a warm hug, Rylan joked, “If YOU’RE the gay cousin, and I’M the gay cousin, who’s steering the cart?!” 

Major relationships: 

- Best friend: Alistair.

Alistair had become a true brother-in-arms and kindred spirit.Their shared dislike for the templar order, sense of justice, and deflecting their pain with humor forged them as fast friends. The two were seldom seen apart, commiserating their woes or pulling pranks at camp. A sound more common in the camp than the Mabari’s howls were the chortles of Rylan and Alistair. 

He was there to pick the pieces of Alistair's heart when he met Goldanna and, tired of seeing his friend mistreated, chose to harden him. Rylan believed in Alistair and after Anora's betrayal - though he appreciated what she had done for the people of Ferelden - he did not trust her to rule alone. The two remained incredibly close throughout the years. 

Upon finding the cure, Rylan’s first stop was to Denerim.

- Romanced: Zevran; immediate infatuation on sight.

Rylan’s first thought upon seeing him was "He's the most beautiful thing I have ever laid my eyes on." It took restraint not to brush the silky blond hair away from his would-be assassin's face. Fighting it was futile, the moments he tried Zevran only tried harder. He would attempt to keep distance by moving Alistair, Morrigan, or other party members in between them. Once, Zevran tripped himself and, while the others continued, Rylan helped the rogue who locked eyes and said, "Well, it looks like I've fallen for you, my dear Warden." 

Rylan had only ever experienced superficial carnal releases in the Circle, as everyone knew love was a weapon to be used against you on a whim. He was content that sex was all it as ever going to be; like Zevran, he had known nothing else. 

He had begun to dip his toes into the pool of this rogue's companionship and soon found the water had come up to his neck. It wasn't long before he was drowning in this new feeling; a painful euphoria that burned and ached in his chest. He adored the way Zev's tongue rolled over the R in his name as he moaned it and his charming sense of humor. He loved the way his hair fell across his face in the mornings and the way he arched his back against Rylan's front for more contact in the night. He enjoyed the sensation of his thumb gently massaging circles into the flat Zev’s ear. He began to see signs of reciprocation when Zevran's usually lustful sidelong glances softened at their corners as he looked on in longing instead. 

Having come to terms with his own feelings, when Zevran offered the earring, Rylan initially declined unless it meant something real. The second time the earring was given, after Zevran had reconciled the sincerity of his feelings, Rylan reached to place a comforting hand on the assassin's shoulder. He clumsily lost his balance and tipped forward. Zev's quick reflexes failed him as he tried to catch his partner, who fell down to one knee and spoke softly, "Well, it looks like I have fallen for you, my dear Crow." Zevran laughed heartily and pulled Rylan up to share a passionate kiss. The next day, Rylan had a sore ear and a soaring heart as he wore the earring with pride. 

Once the battle of the Archdemon was won, the two were inseparable. Aside from quick forays and jobs that took Zevran across Thedas, he always returned to his Warden and dutifullly traveled with him to find a cure for his Calling. 

Dark Ritual: Performed. 

Rylan was incredibly conflicted over this decision. Morrigan's confession came like a physical blow to his stomach. He knew he could never ask Alistair to do this; as a bastard himself, per Morrigan's pact and their distaste for each other, it would mean forcing him to sire what he hated being himself. 

Rylan had never thought of siring a child, never dreamt it or wanted it. He saw what happened to babies born from the Circle and as a gay man his only course of action would have been adoption - and the Templars barely let mages have autonomy of themselves, let alone their children. 

It seemed initially like an easy decision: sex in order to save your life, even if it was with a woman. However, it wasn't just sex. He would be fathering a child - a child whose mother explicitly forbade his involvement. He would be forced to abandon his own child, one he never anticipated, but would exist nonetheless. 

He thought then to Zevran, the man he loved and who loved him in return. He knew to save the heart of his beloved, he had to do this. Thoughts of the babe plagued him after the battle. He searched high and low for Morrigan's trail after things in Amaranthine had settled. His goal was to get closure from his friend who had stolen away immediately after the Archdemon was felled. He let her go, in the end. She did not need him around, he would not have gone; he wished her and their son all the luck in the world. 

For years, Rylan would write letter upon letter and Zevran would watch as he crumpled each with a mixture of frustration and regret. Ten years had passed, Leliana and Zevran reignited communication through dealings with the Inquisition. Business aside, she sent word that a familiar apostate graced Skyhold with a strapping young lad, who though well-behaved, had a familiarly mischievous glint in his eye. Attached to the correspondence was a sketch of the boy. Without a word, for none could encapsulate the myriad of thoughts on the subject of his son, he placed the drawing in a locket Zevran had snatched off a target long past. Rylan never went without it again.

#personal #i have....a lot of feelings about my warden clearly #dragon age oc #dragon age #zevran arainai #alistair theirin #rylan amell #warden oc #leliana #morrigan #hawke #anders #long post