#// she'd have trouble liking Rain either-

[dayplays]

"One more petty tyrant."

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Broken Bones

Summary: You went out with your friends, how did you end up in this situation? Venom is meant to keep you safe, if they couldn't do it this time then you're really in trouble, will Wanda come to your aid? God you really hoped so.

Words: 1,737

Warnings 18+ Minors DNI angst, cuteness nothing else I think

You opened your eyes slowly to the heavy rain on your face and the blood in your mouth, trying to blink away any remaining blurriness you attempted to lift your body up but you felt so weak it was way too painful

"V-Venom....help"

The symbiote didn't respond right away instead giving a low growl unable to move themselves or your body either

"We....we were beaten...call...call Wanda"

Coughing up some more blood you managed to sit up looking around finding yourself in a alleyway surrounded by two dead men with their heads missing, no prizes for wondering where they might be

"What happened?" You closed your eyes when you felt the nauseous feeling flow through your body again

"We were ambushed...leaving the...club c-caught off guard"

You couldn't stand being sat up anymore and dropped back to the ground with a heavy thud

"Y/n...I feel...feel the body dying"

No response from you

"Y/n? Y/n?!"

They tried again, even trying to move your body, unfortunately they were just as weak as you and flopped back down to the ground too, you both felt the light fading from your body, silence engulfing you and your whole body breaking down, your last conscious hope was that Wanda came to your rescue at the last minute.

"So where's the alien human hybrid tonight?" Nat spooked Wanda who was in the kitchen making you your favourite food for when you got back

"Nat! Don't scare me like that I have a hot spoon" Wanda nearly dropped the whole pot of stew for you over the floor

"Sorry Wands it must be my super secret and intense spy training" she whipped past the witch grabbing a spoon to taste what she'd made "hmm nice, maybe a little more paprika" she winked and Wanda groaned rolling her eyes "she doesn't like paprika Nat"

"so where is the love of your life?" Nat took another taste of the stew much to Wanda's annoyance "stop contaminating the food"

Wanda put the stew into the oven to keep warm for you looking back to her Russian friend "she went out to meet some friends at a club"

"You don't sound so happy about that"

Wanda shrugged sitting down on the couch with Nat "I'm happy she wants to go out with her friends but I'm still nervous because of Venom, I just hope they behave"

Nat laughed "what's the worse thing that could happen in a couple of hours?"

***************************************************

“Y/n! Y/n! Oh god” the loud voice gave you a small jolt and you managed to move a little but you felt so heavy going in and out of consciousness that it was pointless.

“Please don’t be dead Wanda will kill me! Also I obviously don’t want to lose you but I just want to make sure you’re not too injured, you look pretty bad though, is this your blood or the other guys? Wait is Venom still in there? Venom! Can you hear me? I probably shouldn’t shout down your ear I’m sorry”

Peter was struggling on what to do, does he pick you up and swing you back to the compound? No that would probably hurt you more but if he called Wanda would she be mad? No she'd be happy because he called her.

In all of his crises thinking someone else jumped next to him “Peter are you really struggling to know what to do, Y/n is nearly dead call Wanda”

Yelena is always so calm in these situations but at this moment she was terrified, Wanda is going to be like a bomb going off, she would destroy the world to keep you safe,

She heard Peter speaking into the phone "h-hey Wanda erm...Y/n is hurt....yeah yeah just outside....yeah that place...okay b-

Wanda turned up so quick that Peter didn’t even have a chance to hang up the phone and before he could try again Wanda's voice was heard by both young avengers

“Peter where is she?!” Wanda’s eyes were a deep angry red, power coming off her in waves making the young avengers step back letting her fall to the ground looking at you “my bednyazhka, please get up, please” she cried over and over again until a hand on her shoulder stopped her

“Wanda come on let’s get her back to the compound, maybe Bruce can help her”

Wanda shook her head “no! I have to fix her! I’m taking her to the cabin” with slow movements her magic lifted you up careful not to hurt you and went to leave “Wanda, let me come with you”

She looked at Nat who also had tears in her eyes “I want to help her too, and if we can’t save her then you need someone to lean on, I won’t let you be on your own” both women were crying now and Wanda nodded her head “okay okay you can come”

Nat turned her head to the two watching “you two go back to the compound and tell them nothing, you hear me? Yelena be a good sister for once"

The blonde pretended to think about it for a bit “okay Sestra, just don’t do anything crazy”

Peter just nodded in agreement scared to say anything else

The two older women walked off with you eventually disappearing and reappearing in the cozy cabin “come on Wanda lay her down on the bed” Wanda gently lay you on the bed kissing your forehead

“What do we do now?” Nat rounded the bed seating herself on the other side of you “I’m going to look to see if she’s okay in her mind”

Wanda ghosted her fingers over your temple sending sparks through your mind finding herself in your mind, you were alive thank god

“moya lyubov please wake up” Wanda spoke into your mind and she felt a small jolt, thinking it was you instead it was Venom

“Wanda? Y/n is very weak help her!”

Wanda fell out of your mind being followed by Venom’s head and some tentacles, that was something she'd never get used to

“What happened?” Wanda asked the symbiote “I thought you could heal her, that’s your only job, you've healed her broken bones before so what’s the difference?!” Wanda was getting angrier and Nat held her back from doing something she might regret, knowing that she would hurt you more than Venom

“They ambushed us with sound and fire, they tried burning us which I cannot handle and then they used poles to wrap around us banging them to create horrible sound waves, I eventually managed to kill them but the damage was done and it hurt too much to do anything about it, I can help her but I need time to reserve some energy”

They retreated back into your body for safety and to help sort your body out.

Wanda grabbed Nat’s hand “she needs rest, I think Venom can help her wake up”

Nat lent down kissing Wanda on the cheek then kissing you on the forehead “I’m going to check around the cabin, make sure we’re truly alone”

Wanda thanked Nat and looked back to you “it’s going to be okay detka, you’re safe now”

***********************************

You felt yourself waking up slowly, your body no longer hurting and the splitting headache no longer threatening your life

“Y/n you are awake! Tell Wanda!”

You groaned lifting yourself from the soft bed falling out for Wanda “Wanda? Wanda are you here?” Your voice was quiet but you heard quick footsteps from another room burst into your own “Y/n! Oh my god you’re alive!”

She practically tackled you to the bed kissing you all over your face and hugging you right “I thought you’d never wake up please don’t ever go out without me again”

Nat quickly entered the room behind smiling wide “Y/n! God you look terrible but I’m glad you’re awake" your friend was always positive about your bad situations

Wanda peeled herself off of you when you complained you couldn't breathe "sorry detka I'm just so excited you're alive, what do you remember?"

Nat sat down on the chair facing the bed and you sat up, groaning at the alight pain in your body "I just remember leaving the club because my friends left early-

"They left you alone?! They promised not to leave you!" Wanda was pissed off, she'd never leave you alone she'd die first before that happened

"I told them about Venom and they freaked out calling me weird and then just left" tears were brimming in your eyes "its hurtful, they think I'm a freak"

Wanda shushed you "detka you are not a freak, you are a beautiful, passionate and loving woman, you just have an...extra friend"

Nat held in her laugh by pretending to look at her shoes when Wanda glared at her "Nat!"

"I'm not laughing! But "extra friend?" come on Wanda, they're an alien from outer space or something, call it what it is"

You giggled at Nat "so straight forward Nat, it's true though, they're an alien that decided I'd be the best host for them"

"You are a perfect host! I would never be able to survive for long periods without going back into your body every few hours!"

You smiled "thanks Venom"

"Do you need to rest more princess?" Wanda stroked your cheek and kissed you softly trying to hold herself back from continuing to kiss you all over

"Yeah if that's okay?" You lay back against the pillows closing your eyes

"Of course my love, we'll let you sleep" she gave you a last kiss on the cheek leaving the room with Nat

"Wanda I know that look" Nat said concerned "don't do anything you'll regret"

The witch's eyes glowed red "I won't regret protecting my girlfriend Nat, she was nearly left for dead! They deserve to feel as bad as she did!"

Her voice rise made Nat nervous, she knew how Wanda could be when it came to you and it was nerve wrecking "Wanda you know Tony would kill me if you did anything dangerous to someone"

"Then you won't tell him will you?" She said in a low voice pushing past Nat "Wanda-

"Look after Y/n, I'll be back later with dinner"

"Wanda you don't even know who actually did it!" Nat tried once last time before she left

"I have a feeling her friends know who did this, they'll tell me" she didn't let Nat say anything else instead slamming the door shut leaving her worried in the cabin "god I'm never going to hear the end of this"

[empressofmankind]

Hooked On You

[Crocodile x F!OC]

Explicit with a capital E

Word count: 1.7k / 5 pages

(A/N) Featuring Crocodile and Shivs when they were still a thing. I don't know what force of nature even kept these two together. Actually, I do. Its shared and unresolved heinous trauma, and coping through mutual enabling with a side dish of codependency. They have so many problems. Gambling problems. Drinking problems. Marital problems. Who's gonna tell them sex isn't therapy? I am counting on you, Robin.

This is the same time frame as 'The House Always Wins', so ten years prior to the actual story and likely after hours at Rain Dinners. There's a joke in here somewhere about trouble in Paradise - literally, as that is where Arabaste is located. I haven't a clue in which larger fic I will stick this, but it is likely a long way off and it felt selfish not to share it.

Tag(s): Absolutely inappropriate use of that hook. Does it count as foreign object play? Probably. Its not a knife but I am going to say knife play because it is a stabbing weapon. I am sure the knife crowd is down. Thoroughly drunk sub, though he ain't sober either. We get a whiff of that daddy vibe of his, too. Obsessive and controlling behaviour? Definitely. Edging? The worst. Begging? Totally. Absolutely filthy language. I keep forgetting how foul-mouthed he is. Some mild degrading? Yes. What else? Are they still dressed? Yes. Married? For better and for much worse. Size difference? Still relevant. Power imbalance? Yes, she's so drunk. And so horny. He could turn her any which way rn.

My sincerest apologies for this title being the worst pun known to man, but the besties were asnooze and I had to make do.

🐊 🐊🐊

Hooked On You

“Ssh,” Crocodile said, his eyes hooded as he gazed down at Shivs, sprawled in his lap and across the couch. Her sparkly cocktail dress hitched up to her waist, showing off dark stockings against pale thighs. Who knew where she'd lost her heels? He stroked a red bang from her eye. It gazed up at him, large with need and drink. Again.

“Careful, honey,” he rumbled as his gaze lingered on her bare pussy. Watching her labia part against the smooth metal as he gingerly ran the tip of his hook between them. Felt her shudder, heard her quiet, plastered moan as her legs twitched towards each other. He didn't like it when she drank this much. “Keep those pretty thighs apart or you'll hurt yourself.”

He spread her open with two fingers, her inner folds slick and shimmering with her juices already. And touched the curved tip against the small, moist folds concealing her entrance. The breathy huff that drew from her fogged his thoughts with hazy lust, the ravenous beast within him stirring from its slumber. She was such a needy thing, and he wanted to see it. Wanted to see her eager little hole contract around the metal, grip at it with no hope of finding purchase. Watch her sweet juices run rivulets down its curve as she came for him, and only him.

She rolled her hips, and he stopped her promptly. Her protesting whine was as slurred as her speech had been. She squirmed, but he kept her put. His hook wasn’t sharp, per say, but it would not give in the way his cock would if she foolishly shoved her needy little cunt into it.

He waited till she stilled, fingertips brushing the edge of lace between stocking and thigh. When he dipped the cool tip between her moist inner folds, her legs twitched further apart for him. And the gluttonous creature inside Crocodile burred happily, devoured the pretty sight. He lightly, carefully, dragged the tip along her inner walls, searching for the sensitive spot just a little ways inside of her on memory alone.

A whimper, when he found it.

Her pitched moan as music to his ears when he stroked it again.

“Oh-ah!” 

Her hands shot down, weakly, drunkenly, scrabbling at the metal as she tried to tug him closer, feel more, feel everything, just the way she would if it were his fingers dug knuckle deep into her moist cunt. But it wasn’t.

“Shh,” Crocodile shushed against her red hair as he gathered her wrists away before she hurt herself with her blind need. She glanced up at him with such drunken lust that he almost forgot he was upset with her.

“You’ll hurt yourself if you’re not careful,” he said, his hooded gaze on her parted lips, her panting breaths. And kissed her as he pressed the tip of his hook against that sweet, sensitive spot, gradually increasing pressure until she squirmed in his lap and moaned into their kiss.

“What is it?” he whispered against her bated breath as he paused and devoured the garbled, indecipherable plea that spilled from her lips. “You want me to fuck you with it? Is that what you want, doll?”

“Y-yes, p-plea-ah!”

Her precious mewls and the way she writhed in his hold with barely contained need spilled like gasoline onto the smouldering fire of his own desire.

“I can’t do that, honey,” he said as he gingerly guided it deeper, tracing the inward curve of her tight vagina, a passage he knew so well. “It’ll hurt you.”

She twisted in his lap and he had to pin her hips down, palm flat against her belly, to stop her rocking into his touch. She absolutely could hurt herself with her reckless, drunken actions.

“N-need. You-ah,” she whined in a tone that made him so hard. Made him want to toss her around, pull up that firm ass and fuck her sopping pussy full of cum like she deserved. A low, guttural groan clawed its way from his throat as he pressed her narrow hips down, pushed her butt unto his aching cock as he held her put. He wrestled the rapacious beast down, but only just. 

Soon, he promised himself.

“G-gim. Me. Ah-shole,” she complained. Her hands fisted into the cushion and the fabric of his pants, her knuckles bright and bruised.

“Ts-tsk. That is no way to talk to your husband.” He carefully withdrew his hook, her slick cunt making a delicious noise around the metal. “Don’t I take good care of you, sweetheart?”

“N-ngh-eed,” she whined as he slid the tip back into her with a smooth, languid push that followed the curve of her tight passage as far as it would go. “N-need you. T-to-oh-OH!”

“To what?” He mused against her hair as he stroked her lower belly, watched the muscles there clench and tremble at the lightest touch. The urge to bury his cock into her warm, snug hole clawed at his sanity like a living thing. He needed to have her. But he wanted to see. Wanted to watch her cramping pussy grasp at the metal as she came for him mewling his name. 

“You need a little help?” Crocodile said as he traced his fingers down to her pubes. “Is that it, doll?”

Shivs nodded, fingers digging into fabric and his thigh, barely managing a reply. “Y-yuh.”

He ran his fingertips in broad, lazy circles around her sensitive bud, never quite touching it. “You need a little help to make your sweet cunny make you feel so good?”

“Y-yes.”

“Why should I? You’ve been nothing but trouble.” He slid his middle finger down through her wet folds, teasing the hot, slick skin where his hook dug into her sensitive, pliable hole. “Tossing patrons, wrecking the floor, ransacking the bar. Why should I reward that kind of behaviour?”

“Am s-so,” she babbled as she arched her hips towards his touch. It felt good. Bad. Better than she’d ever thought it could.

“What was that, doll?”

“Am s-sor,” she wheezed as his thumb ghosted across her clit. “Ror-ry.”

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

“I s-said I am s-sorry!”

“Are you?”He teased her sensitive bud, delighted in the way she twitched, the way her toes curled. “Such sweetly false promises from my darling wife.”

“F-fuck you, C-croc-odile.”

Her fist came at his face half-heartedly, trembling from drink and desire. He caught it and pressed kisses against her bruised knuckles. “Yes, you will.”

When he reached down to rub his ring and middle finger across her clit, her fist latched onto his shirt, her fingers digging into the expensive fabric as she arched into his touch and hook, both, with the loveliest raw cry. He relished how much she wanted it.

He gathered her closer to him, keeping her hips locked against his own to stop them moving. He massaged her needy bud firmly, rubbing his fingers roughly against her the way he knew she craved. “Say my name again.”

“Hnn. Mmm. Croco-dile,” she whined drunkenly.

A deep grunt escaped him, his cock throbbing beneath her as he rubbed her aching bud between his fingers. He drew his hook back, lightly caressing the tip along her inner walls, searching. 

“Again.” 

“Croc-oh-dile!”

He could tell from her pitch he’d found it. The spot he knew would make her see stars.

“Once more?” he rumbled into her ear as she trembled against him, so ready to reward him. To show him what he wanted, needed. He watched her tether for a breathless moment, watched her slick pussy clench around his hook. Then nudged her across with a sudden, sharp tap into that sweet, sweet spot.

“Cro-oh. Ah! Yes!” she wailed, and he savoured the way his name broke as she lost it.  “P-plea-uh. Yess!” 

He struggled to keep her trashing in check as her orgasm ripped through her. Forcefully pinned down her narrow hips as they bucked against his firm grip. He kept the pressure on her little cum spot, rubbed her clit through her peak. His hungry gaze fixed on her sopping pussy, watching her tight hole spams around his hook. Her sweet cum gushing out, running down the slick metal and dripping from its curve.

She was perfect like this, and all his. 

And always would be.

“My darling wife is such a pretty slut, and ever so sweet to me,” he murmured into her ear as she calmed down, her panting breath slowing, steadying. The sweet trembles racking her body subsiding. “Able to cum on anything I put in her needy little hole. Even my hook.”

He drank in her blissful, fucked-out look as she gazed up at him through heavy lashes, the caress of too much alcohol lingering behind her flushed cheeks and bright eye. Her lips were parted, an edge of teeth visible. 

He withdrew his hook, and groaned at her meek whine and the way she reached for it. She was such a needy little thing. The ever-hungry creature within him stirred with a satisfied burr, never quite done feasting on her, devouring her every word, action, noise, sin. 

“You know what I am going to do after this?” 

He brushed her fussy touch from his hook, caught her fingers in his own as he rested the slick metal against her flat belly. The ravenous beast roared, no longer tolerating being ignored.

“I am going to wreck your pretty cunt and stuff it full of cum until you come apart beneath me,” he said as he pressed a kiss against her bruised knuckles, catching her bright, greedy gaze. “You need that, don’t you, honey?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

🐊 🐊🐊

Horny hell seat reservations - @ruledbyproblematique @littlemountainwolf @fanaticsnail @tiredemomama

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 29: THE PERFORMANCE

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Pregnancy Loss, Infertility

Chapter Note:

This chapter explores the next six weeks from Cillian’s Point of View.

Cillian’s POV

A few days following your latest encounter at Cillian’s apartment, Dermont and Cillian sat at the pub, drinking pints of Guinness. The dimly lit room echoed with the sound of lively conversation and clinking glasses. Outside, rain drizzled down on the streets of Dublin, adding to the gloomy atmosphere that matched the melancholic state of their minds.

Cillian took a long sip from his pint, contemplating the weight of recent events, including the break up with you and the fact that, again, Nina was struggling with his separation from Danielle.

While Nina’s mental health was something Cillian and Danielle had addressed in recent days, following her having run off from his apartment, the breakup with you still had left him shattered. It was something he could not come to terms with and struggled to accept.

"You know, Dermont," Cillian began, his voice tinged with melancholy. "I can't stop thinking about her. It's driving me mad."

Dermont took a swig of his Guinness, his eyes narrowing as he studied his troubled friend. "You are still caught up on her? Jesus, man," he spoke.

"I can't help it," Cillian confessed. "She's all I think about,” he admitted in the midst of being somewhat tipsy and Dermont leaned back and crossed his arms.

"I have to admit, Cillian, I never understood why you let her go in the first place,” his friend pointed out, causing Cillian to sigh.

"It's the age difference, Dermont," Cillian lamented. "She is half my age, for God's sake. It felt wrong,” he explained and Dermont tilted his head, a sceptical expression on his face. "Age is just a number, my friend. If there's love, it transcends all that rubbish.”

Cillian snorted and took a sip of his Guinness. "You make it sound so simple, man."

"Because it is," Dermont affirmed. "Besides, you're not getting any younger either, mate."

Cillian glared at his friend playfully. "Thanks for the reminder, Dermont,” he said before asking his friend what to do.

“You should try and resolve this. If you want her back, then tell her,” Dermont pointed out and Cillian's face contorted with uncertainty. "I don't know, Dermont. I don't even know if she'd want me back after the way I ended things."

Dermont scoffed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, the classic self-deprecating Cillian Murphy. Trust me, mate, shoot your shot. You never know until you try."

Cillian chuckled, his eyes lighting up with a newfound determination before remembering something else that, just days ago, you had told him about when you were made to resign.

Cillian, of course, then told Dermont all about it, including the fact that there had been an email that was sent to the dance academy, signed off by a “concerned parent”.

“I thought me and Connie were the only ones who knew at the time?” Dermont acknowledged, resulting in Cillian to nod.

“From the parents, yes…” he determined as the discovery of someone sabotaging your career had ignited a fiery determination within him. He couldn't let this stand and wanted to know who did this to you.

Dermont, ever the curious friend, frowned as he listened to Cillian tell him about the email that had, apparently, given rise to your forced resignation. "Who could have done it then, you think?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Cillian sighed heavily, the lines of worry etched deep on his forehead. "I don't know, Dermont. I can't think of anyone who would stoop so low," he replied, frustration evident in his voice.

Dermont's eyes narrowed as a thought struck him like a lightning bolt. "What about Kit? She knew…" he suggested, causing Cillian's eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

"Kit? Why would you suspect her?" Cillian questioned, his tone laced with disbelief. Kit had always seemed loyal.

Dermont leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Think about it, Cillian. Kit knows how much you still love Y/N, and you fucked her. Perhaps she grew jealous and decided to take matters into her own hands” he suggested.

Cillian's mind spun with the possibility, a flicker of doubt igniting within him. Could Kit have orchestrated this? He mulled over Dermont's theory, his eyes clouded with suspicion.

“It was just sex, man. Kit said so herself,” Cillian pointed out though while running a hand through his unruly hair. “I just can't imagine her doing something like that,” he then told his friend.

Dermont leaned back, resting his pint on the table. "Are you sure about that, mate? Kit's been acting a bit off lately. She knew how much you love Y/N, and let's face it, jealousy can turn even the sweetest of assistants into vengeful email-senders,” Dermont said jokingly, causing Cillian to chuckle momentarily.

"Don't ruin Kit for me, Dermont. She's been nothing but supportive and she is a pretty good assistant,” he pointed out as he could not believe that it may be her who sent the email.

 Dermont leaned in closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But what if she's secretly in love with you and can't bear the thought of you being with someone else? People do crazy things for love, mate. Crazy things,” he pointed out.

Cillian stared at Dermont, trying to gauge whether he was being serious or just pulling his leg. "You can't be serious. Kit has been with me for years,” he said.

Dermont shrugged, a devilish grin on his face. "Hey, I'm just saying. It's worth considering. Love can make a person do all sorts of mad stuff,” he argued.

Cillian rolled his eyes, taking a long sip of his Guinness. "You watch too many telenovelas, Dermont. Kit is not the culpri-" he began to say and, just as Cillian was about to finish his sentence, his phone buzzed, signalling a new message. He pulled it out of his pocket and unlocked the screen, eyes widening as he read the name on the display - Kit.

"Speak of the devil," Dermont chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Go on, mate. See what she wants,” Dermont told him and Cillian hesitated for a moment before opening the message. His eyes darted across the screen, his face contorting into a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

"She... she just sent me a meme of a cat wearing a hat, some Oppenheimer thing…" Cillian laughed, and Dermont burst into laughter, doubling over with mirth. "Oh, mate, you were so close to discovering her sinister plot, and she distracts you with pictures of dapper felines. She's good,” he joked.

Cillian's forehead creased with frustration as he slid his phone back into his pocket. "I can't believe I'm even entertaining this nonsense, Dermont. Kit would never betray me like that,” he was certain, but Dermont was not.

Dermont wiped away a tear of laughter, struggling to compose himself. "Okay, okay, I'll drop it. But remember, cats in hats can be dangerously distracting, especially those which build atomic weapons. Stay vigilant, my friend,” he carried on, and Cillian shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're an ejeet. I don't know how you come up with this stuff,” Cillian acknowledged, causing Dermont to wink playfully.

"It's a gift, mate. A gift that keeps on giving,” Dermont told his friend before they clinked their glasses together, the sound echoing through the pub as they shared a moment of lighthearted camaraderie amidst the chaos of love and betrayal.

Little did they know, the truth was lurking in the shadows, waiting to unveil its twisted face. And when it did, everything would change.

But for now, they would enjoy their pints, laughter, and the blissful ignorance that only a good pub session could provide. The mysteries could wait; they had Guinness to savour.

***

About two weeks later, Cillian and Dermont were still hunting for cues, and it was Nina who told them both to give up and let it be. According to Nina, you took up a new job with a theatre production company that specialises in musicals and dance performances, and it was one of those performances that she wanted to see.

Nina had followed you on Instagram and Facebook for weeks, and you stayed in touch. You offered her some tickets to attend the show with either her mum or dad, now that you knew that Danielle no longer held a grudge against you.

In fact, she even tried to get you reemployed which, in the end, was an offer you declined even despite the fact that the owner of the dance academy apologised to you.

"Dad, you have to take me to see her perform! Can you take me? Please?" Nina thus pleaded, her blue eyes wide with anticipation after Cillian slumped onto the couch, his brow furrowing as he stared at his daughter, who was bouncing with excitement in front of him.

Cillian sighed heavily, running his fingers through his tousled hair. "Nina, we've been through this. I don't think it's a good idea," he repeated as, just two days ago, she asked him the same question.

Nina pouted, crossing her arms stubbornly. "But Dad, she's been teaching me everything she knows about dance, and I really want to see her perform.” She begged.

Cillian's gaze softened as he looked at his daughter. He hated to disappoint her, but he had his reasons for not wanting to see you perform.

"Nina, you know how things ended between us," Cillian said, his voice tinged with sadness.

“All I know is that you broke up with her,” Nina pointed out in response, to which Cillian sighed, finding it difficult to explain to his young daughter the complexities of your relationship.

"It's a complicated situation, sweetheart. We had our differences, and age played a big part in it,” he pointed out and, immediately, Nina, being the insightful teenager she was, raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"Wait, Dad, are you saying you dumped her because she's young and cool?" she asked and Cillian shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling like he was on trial.

"Well, it wasn't as simple as that, but yes, age was a factor. I did not know how young she was and when I found out I realised that it couldn’t work. I didn't want her to miss out on experiences and opportunities that someone her own age could provide. Despite, my career, it…" Cillian began to say, but Nina interrupted him.

Nina crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing with determination. "Dad, you're being ridiculous. Your career? Really? You hooked up with your assistant, it’s all over the papers, but you are worried about bad press because of Y/N?” Nina spat, causing her father to gulp.

Cillian shook his head, willing himself to stay firm in his decision. "Nina, it's not that simple and I would rather not revisit this. Okay?” Cillian then shut her off which caused Nina to sit down next to her father, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Dad, you need to grow up. It’s okay to be in love with someone who doesn’t quite fit within your ideals. Love is an iffy little thing, worth making sacrifices for” Nina said like a grown-up and Cillian glanced at his daughter, love and pride shining in his eyes. Nina's words struck a chord within him, making him consider her perspective.

“I read this in a book at school, don’t judge” Nina then pointed out, but the words had already sunk in.

"Maybe you're right though," Cillian reluctantly admitted and Nina beamed, her blue eyes sparkling with triumph.

“Does this mean you take me to see her performance?” Nina wanted to know and Cillian nodded.

“Yes, but only because I know it means a lot to you and you grew up to be so wise” Cillian chuckled softly, giving Nina a playful nudge.

Nina squealed with delight, throwing her arms around Cillian in a tight hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Dad! You won't be disappointed, I swear!" she told him while Cillian found himself chuckling again, unable to resist his daughter's infectious enthusiasm.

"All right, calm down, you. Now, tell me more about it. Is it a ballet?” Cillian asked and Nina's eyes sparkled with excitement as she launched into an animated description of the contemporary ballet assembly you were part of.

Listening to Nina, Cillian found his curiosity piqued. Maybe it was time he saw for himself what he had been missing and, as Nina continued to regale him with tales of your talent, Cillian couldn't help but wonder if he had made a mistake by letting you go.

The performance was weeks away, but Cillian promised Nina that he would take her to see you. Deep down, he hoped that by witnessing your prowess on stage, he would find closure and the strength to move on. But, unfortunately for him, he would soon learn that the opposite was the case.

In the days leading up to the performance, Cillian's mind became consumed with memories of you.

He recalled your laughter, your teasing smiles, and the passion that ignited between you both, erasing any concerns about age differences or what society might think.

As the date drew nearer, Cillian's heart felt heavy, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. He found himself becoming increasingly nervous and couldn't help but wonder what seeing you dance on stage again would do to him.

***

A few weeks later, when the night of your performance had arrived, Cillian waited at the theatre's entrance, fidgeting with his ticket in hand.

Nina, dressed in an elegant dress, bounced beside him and Cillian's heart swelled with pride at Nina's excitement. He took a deep breath, hoping that tonight would bring him the closure he needed.

They had good seats, three rows from the front and when Cillian took his seat in the dimly lit theatre, a flutter of anticipation in his stomach.

The lights dimmed, hushing the buzzing crowd. The stage came alive, bathed in ethereal hues of purple and blue.

The first dancers appeared, their movements captivating the audience. But Cillian's gaze remained fixed on the edge of the stage, waiting for your entrance.

And then, there you were, gracefully gliding across the stage, your body a mesmerising blur of movement.

Cillian's breath caught in his throat as he watched you, his eyes hungrily drinking in every sway of your hips and arch of your back.

The music swelled, and you leapt into the air, defying gravity with an effortless elegance. The audience erupted into applause.

Cillian's heart raced, torn between the memories of what once was and the undeniable beauty he witnessed before him.

As the performance went on, Cillian found himself entranced by your talent, lost in the way your body spoke a language all its own.

He couldn't look away from you, from the raw emotion etched across your face, from the way your body moved with a combination of strength and vulnerability.

Cillian's breath hitched as you effortlessly leapt and twirled through the air, your passion radiating from every pore. It was as if time stood still, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

Act after act, Cillian remained glued to his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from your performance. The audience erupted in applause after each routine, but for Cillian, it was an internal symphony of emotions.

As the final act approached, Cillian's heart pounded in his chest. It was a moment of truth, a moment where he had to face his feelings head-on and decide what he truly wanted.

The lights dimmed, leaving only a single spotlight illuminating the stage. You stood there, a vision in black, poised and ready to unleash the depths of your soul through movement.

Cillian held his breath as the hauntingly beautiful music began. Every step you took seemed to echo in his heart, the ache of longing mingling with the bittersweet melody.

The dance spoke volumes, conveying a story of love and loss, of two souls intertwined in an eternal dance of desire and hesitancy. Cillian couldn't help but see himself in the narrative.

The climax of the performance drew near, a moment of climax and intensity where you and your partner poured all your emotions onto the stage. The chemistry between you was palpable.

Cillian's heart raced, his fingers involuntarily clenching around the edge of his seat. His eyes locked with yours, and he knew in that moment that he couldn't deny his feelings any longer.

The dance came to a crescendo and the audience erupted in thunderous applause, but Cillian was rooted to his spot, emotions swirling within him.

Nina's eyes flickered between you and her father, sensing his conflicted emotions.

She reached out a hand, resting it gently on Cillian's arm. "Dad, are you okay?"

Cillian tore his eyes away from you, his voice thick with emotion. "I... we should go soon” he stammered and Nina gave him a sympathetic smile, squeezing his arm reassuringly.

“Do you want to go and talk to her?” Nina asked as tears glimmered in Cillian's eyes.

“No, we should go,” Cillian told his daughter just as the lights came on.

[xxsycamore]

𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐁𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. . . Blanc X MC

↬ A rainy afternoon shouldn't get in the way of Blanc's sweet teatime with Alice!

Blanc Lapin x MC (Alice) • rating: G • tags: Fluff; Rain; Tea Parties; Kissing; Magic • wordcount:  1,481•masterlist

a/n: the weather outside provoked me to start off early with the challenge 👉🏻👈🏻 this is for day 8 of Spring Showers Spring Flowers by @aquagirl1978 & @violettduchess - Prompt: Rainy Days (fluff) - special tags for @vivifucksthevillian @viohasgoneintothewoods @katriniac

"Umm, Blanc… are you sure that we should be here?"

Despite the evident concern in her tone, Alice takes another sip from her cup, enjoying her tea. This impromptu tea party came out of nowhere, but she couldn't refuse Blanc's kind offer…

She'd just come to the Civic Center awhile ago to bring Blanc his lunch, seeing as her distracted White Rabbit had forgotten it again at home… She'd made it right on time for his lunch break, but was quite surprised when Blanc asked for her company. Exiting the office in flavor of finding some place more suited for having a meal, Alice's next surprise was seeing him begin to brew tea. And then the feeling grew tenfold as Blanc began climbing the stairs to the rooftop, where the Garden is situated.

"Why yes, we're merely having some tea, I don't see the harm in that. I'd hate to get you in trouble, dear Alice, I merely wanted to enjoy your company in a place that compliments your beauty…"

Blanc stirs his tea, smiling politely and prompting her to taste the food as well. She'd made enough for him to be sated and more, and a shared meal is always a tastier meal… maybe it's because of believing in this philosophy why Alice complies and nods, returning the smile. Oh, it really is tasty!

"The table looks even bigger when the seats are empty, somehow… there's this energy about this place even when we're alone here."

Blanc hums approvingly, gracious even in his chewing. He pats over his mouth with a handkerchief, manners on point as if this really is one of those special meetings of the top officers of the two armies. Their respective flags waver slightly in the wind, standing proud on their tall poles on either side of the table.

"Aren't you feeling calm in my company, Alice?"

The question gets her off-guard, the tea cup trembling for a second in her hands. She takes another sip.

"Uh-huh! I do. Thank you for bringing me here, it's not every day that I get to enjoy tea in such a place!"

While admiring the scenery, Alice notes how the grey clouds overhead add to the beauty of it, instead of ruining it, strange as it is. It's a pretty unique feeling. Gray days are almost never pretty, but from up here it's different. The budding nature enveloping the Garden adds enough color to contrast with the sky, and the temperature is not unpleasantly low at all. It's a typical spring day.

Well, it wouldn't be one without rain. And so the rain arrives.

Plop.

"Ahh, a raindrop fell into my tea… Haha…"

Blanc's beautiful white lashes flutter and show more of the pretty color of his peach-colored eyes behind the lenses of his glasses, as his attention is drawn to the cup, after Alice's comment. He's quick to react, much to Alice's surprise, as he jumps to his feet and opens his coat to reveal a foldable umbrella… so he predicted that this might happen?

"This is no ordinary umbrella, Alice. It's one of Oliver's newest inventions, you see. I think today makes the perfect chance for us to put it to the test."

Alice blinks but is just as curious as Blanc appears to be, scooting closer to his side. Of course Oliver makes poor Blanc his test bunny that is supposed to report obediently afterwards… she can only hope the invention is harmless. Considering how much of Fenrir's infamous guns are created where this umbrella came from…

"We unfold it like this, and the magic crystal in the handle does the rest of the job!"

Blanc explains, giving himself an aura of someone who knows what he's doing. Fortunately, it goes as he says, the crystal starting to shine as the umbrella is unfolded… and it starts to grow?!

The fabric held on the metal rods stretches out until it reaches the size of a sunshade, like the ones that can be seen in one of those cute outdoor cafes in central.

"Are those… balloons?"

The worries about Blanc suddenly having to hold the weight of that large thing start to disappear as Alice observes dozens of detached balloons inflate under the umbrella, making it float graciously in the air.

"Ahh, good, it didn't fly away! Oliver's main concern was that the balloons would either be too few or too many for its mass. As always, his calculations are top notch."

As more raindrops fall, Alice feels the need to snap out of her awe and take refuge under the parasol, along with her tea cup.

"And now, we can resume our tea time."

Blanc looks at Alice and they exchange a sweet smile. The food is finished and put away, and the rain becomes but a soundtrack to the tranquil afternoon.

"Ah, Alice, please come closer. I don't want the rain to get to you, and besides, you must be getting cold."

Blanc is… offering his lap. True, the parasol is large, but Alice really does feel the raindrops hitting her arm occasionally… oh well. Maybe it won't hurt, just this once.

"If you'd excuse me…"

Ah, this is bad. Her heart is going to explode, and her lips are remaining on a thin line as she attempts to drink as if nothing is happening. The lukewarm liquid is touching her mouth but she can't take in anything, fairly sure that she's going to choke the second she does.

Blanc is warm, especially his arm that wraps around her waist. That's why the invention is so clever, leaving him with two free hands… It's convenient for holding her in place, and nothing more of course, the gentleman that he is. Alice tries to concentrate on anything that is not him, in order to keep her sanity.

Nearby, the blossoming trees are standing tall in the spring shower as it starts to fall with more vigor upon them from the skies.

"Aww, I feel bad for the little buds. They're so fragile, and the rain is so strong."

Blanc follows her line of sight, chuckling softly. The sound of his laugher is more prominent when she's that close, and it sounds way more melodic too.

"They're going to be alright. Nature has its ways. Besides, they're just like you."

"?!"

Alice turns to look at Blanc, not realizing how he'd leaned closer to see better. Their faces are millimeters apart.

"Fate gave you strong rains, yet you held your head high and blossomed after each one. You're strong, Alice. And beautiful, too. You bring spring to Cradle."

Each word makes Alice's head spin more as she finds herself lavished with sweet words… she knows Blanc means each one of them deeply, his usual gentlemanly smile looking a tad more serious now. She's going to explode if he doesn't kiss her right this instant.

"Can I kiss you?"

Yes! Yes!

"Please."

Blanc's chuckle is barely audible, but she can feel it as he presses his lips to her. First, the stretch of his mouth in that sweet smile, then the parting of his lips. She eagerly answers, melting into the sweet-tasting kiss.

Blanc's lunch break draws to an end, much to their dismay. Raindrops start to fall seldom from the skies, like spring showers do, and Blanc outstretches an ungloved hand beyond the margins of the parasol to check. He then folds the umbrella, but still hurries inside with Alice, tea set safely collected as he insists he could take care of that.

"Ahh, I still worry about raindrops getting on the frames of my glasses… Do you think I can ask Oliver to create mini-umbrellas for them?"

Alice lets out a snort that grows into audible laugher, imagining how silly it would look like… but if she can find something charming in that, then the inventor surely wouldn't, and it won't go without some rude remarks. But oh well, maybe the kind heart he hides somewhere deep within would dictate the words "Fine, you stupid rabbit, ridicule yourself if you want to, I'll see what I can do."

"Anything that prevents you from taking off your glasses to wipe them and thus leaves you vulnerable is a good idea, Blanc…"

Going down the stairs with Blanc, the record keeper suddenly stops and looks and looks at her.

"I don't mind the rain, if it makes my dear little blossom show her beautiful, true colors."

With a finger behind his lips, a silent gesture to shush her, Blanc joins his colleague Mousse who seems to have used his own lunch break to its fullest, relishing in his favorite pastime of napping. At least that's what the lines on his face tell. Maybe Alice can too use a nap right now, because all that happened this afternoon felt like a dream, and it was one that ended too fast…

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @tiny-wooden-robot @joy-the-reader @ikemen-writer @tele86 @psychodreamer666 @cilokgoang @moonstruck-writing Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[little-annie]

What if it all started with a single hair tie?

What if there was no Upside Down and no fear for one's life when they chose to wander the lonely streets of Hawkins Indiana in the midst of night?

What if one of those nights one lonely boy stumbled across another? One with a recently broken heart and the other failing at holding back drunken sobs over his broken home.

It could be either of them really.

For yes Nancy had just called Steve bullshit and stomped his heart so deep into the ground it looked as if it had become one with the roots and soil at his feet. His parents having done much the same not more than three hours prior, announcing their divorce along with the impending sale of the only home he'd ever known.

And Eddie, sweet sobbing Eddie, curls laden with fallen rain and an aching, blooming bruise to his cheek had just seen his father for the first time in years, free from his shackles, only for the man to spit slurs and tell him of his mother's death with not a single ounce of remorse across his ashy, foul face. Wayne had been at work when it happened and Eddie, without another thought ran to the only other person he'd thought he could find solace in. A boy, one with blonde hair and blue eyes who at night held Eddie close to his chest and kissed the pain away as much as he bruised it into his skin. Never had he thought that affection was only one for night skies and whispered words beneath bedsheets. Never had he thought a cry and a sob would elicit the man to strike him with already blackened knuckles in the light of day, uttering words his father said to him not even an hour prior.

Sad, sobbing, drunken and distraught they found themselves at skull rock feeling more alone than ever before.

The rain falls heavy, soaking soft cotton and ageing leather and two boys who have spoken nary a word to one another in the span of three years sit side by side. Asses in the rain wet dirt and backs to the cooling stone of a rock that looms over them with the face of death.

Words never do make it to the humid air between them, but when a rather awful sob racks through Eddie's body making him shake and shudder, Steve looks over. And through his own tear blurred eyes he catches the frustration and fear, the exhaustion and the mixture of so much more accompanying the purpleing skin of Eddie's face, he's never seen those emotions accompanied by the colours of abuse look so remarkable.

For the shortest second it allows Steve to catch his breath.

The longer he looks the more he sees. And along with the slope of Eddie's nose and the strength of his jaw, Steve too notices the way ring adorned fingers catch and pull and grasp at sopping curls to remove them from where they want to cling to porcelain tinted cheeks.

It hardly crosses his mind when he does it, really he'd go as far as to say it doesn't at all. But with a shaky hand, stained with the remnants of spilled booze and tears of his own, Steve pulls a single black hair tie from his wrist and sets it on the bareness of Eddie's knee.

It'd been Nancy's, one he'd kept for the times she'd huff and brush her hair behind her ear, a wrinkle in her brow formed by the frustration the annoyance had caused. And in those moments when he'd hand it to her and ease her troubles, he felt useful, worthy of the love that apparently was never there.

But handing it to Eddie or rather setting it on pale skin that pokes through the rip in his black jeans, it feels different somehow. It's not like anything Steve can explain, but there's an odd twist in his gut that accompanies the motion. Tears are still slipping down his cheeks along with the ever falling rain, but there's something else, something unexplainable lingering there in the moment.

Eddie chokes back his tears to wipe roughly across his face, wincing when brushing the blooming bruise on his cheek and for a moment he's quiet. Eyes tearful and dark, full of so many emotions as he simply stares at the black hair tie resting on his knee.

And then he looks at Steve.

And for the first time in his life Steve feels as if he's being seen.

The colour of the rain sodden soil beneath them, glassy in ways that give away to so much pain, Eddie eyes meet his and for a moment that probably only lasts seconds, Steve feels like he can see a lifetime in that gaze.

It lingers and eventually shifts along with the barest twitch of Eddie's down turned lips, but Steve can't bear to look away. So he watches. He watches as Eddie grabs the tie and pulls his hair back, fingers roughly combing through soaked strands until they're tied in a low knot at the base of his skull. Snug and sitting above the collar of a leather jacket Steve can smell in their close proximity and the rain. Loose tendrils falling and framing. Showing off what seems to be a few silver hoops through the skin of a porcelain ear.

And still Steve watches.

Because how can he not?

He watches until Eddie turns to face him again, a rushing of heat in his cheeks along with the feeling of being caught floods through him and for the faintest of moments Steve feels an odd rush of fear.

Fight or flight.

Or stay, another voice says, that twist in his gut turning into a gentle flutter.

Stay.

So he does and after Eddie's eyes sweep across his face once more, Steve feels the weight of the other man settle against his side.

Where there was once a small space for rain to fall and cold air to lie, there's now two arms pressed together. Leather and cotton. Eddie and Steve. Two halves of an eventual whole.

Hesitantly, seaking a comfort that hopefully can be found in such a space, Steve leans into the warmth and weight, his head falling to Eddie's shoulder with just as much ease.

It's there, where it starts.

Where two boys, broken nearly beyond repair, find each other.

And it's a hair tie, something so small and insignificant, something that can be found in the millions, that binds them to one another. Through the years it'll change hands, or wrists for that matter. Steve or Eddie. Eddie or Steve, but no one else.

It'll feel the nervous snap against Eddie's wrist when he shows up to Steve's for the first time invited for something other than a party. Stuttering his way through what Eddie assumes couldn't possibly be a date.

It'll feel the silk of Steve's hair when it grows long enough for a hardly there French Braid, pulled into place by deft, guitar string bitten fingers. Eddie to his rear and an accidental kiss laid to his shoulder.

It'll be there for the first date, the first kiss and the awkward moments leading up to both. It'll be there for held hands and sharp laughs. For the moments that aren't the best and sometimes even the worst, but it'll be there too for the repair of those times. For the whispered words, the tearful apologises and the kisses and cuddles that follow.

It'll be there for the first apartment.

The first pet.

The first home.

And the moment when Steve drops down to one knee, Eddie having planned to do the same no more than a blink of an eye later. On their 13th anniversary. In the place where a single hair tie seemed to have started it all.

And when they ask for one another's hand to hold through a lifetime and more.

[visd3stele]

If you still write for Criston can you write an imagine based on ep 4 but its Rhaenyra younger sister he is attracted to??

still write? i'm just getting started ;)

i hope you like it!

masterlist ; requests

a/n: so, usualy i don't include smut in requests if it's not specifically asked for, the more i do is hint to it lightly. but since it's a request about that episode, the one so focused on the meaning and discoveries of sexual life, and it is the got universe, i thought it's safe to assume you're ok with it. if not, beware the warnings below and let me know through another ask.

tw: kind of spoilerish (better read after you watched the episode), virgin!reader, virginity loss, smut, piv, innocent!bold!reader,a dime of jealousy, talks of forced marriage, old typical mysonigistic rhetoric about the female body, behavior and a woman's sexual activities let me know if i missed anything

Sleepless nights

A gust of wind blew from behind, whipping loose strands of hair against the flurry breathing in your face. H/c locks flew around your head in a messy crown. Though your vision was blurred - with piercing tears and whips of hair - you felt no fear. Up in the sky, between the clouds floating above King's Landing, you were more at home than you ever were inside the confinement of the royal palace. Here, with just your dragon to keep you company, your body eased the tension gathered over the day. A wild laugh boomed where no one but your ears could hear. So unlady-like, your tutors would say, just like the grin spread on your face.

You found it easier to leap into the princess act expected from you when on the ground. But on the back of your dragon, a mighty creature you, alone, tamed, the well of bottled up feelings broke its walls. You felt powerfully and powerful.

"Don't you love this, Attor? Freedom," you closed your eyes to feel the moonlight, smelling the scent of air before rain. The dragon whispered its roar of agreement, longing his neck for a pet on the head. You happily obliged.

Poison. It caused reason to gossip when you named your dragon such. What ill intentions could hide behind? But you simply thought it fit him. A dragon with no fire, only the venom that should lit it. A silent dragon whose roars aren't heard and who is sneakier than even some spies you've met.

"Yes, I can't get enough of this."

"Y/n!" You couldn't stop the sigh escaping your lungs. You love your bigger sister more than the lengths all the dragons in the realm could take you. But you didn't want to go back just yet.

"Now? Really? Can't I stay a bit more? Please."

The night was young. Barely a few hours passed evening. Rhaenyra usually came to take you home only shortly before dawn. When you would complain about wanting to see the sunrise like you used to do together as children. She'd put out a small opposition, just for show as she wanted to do it too. Then you'd return together to the castle, tiptoeing your way to bed.

This time, however, Rhaenyra seemed to be on a rush.

"No, y/n, come on."

"But why?" You whined.

"I have something to do tonight and I'd rather know you out of trouble."

"What troubles can I possibly run into in the sky?"

"You'll find a way. Come."

"Fine, but only if you tell me what's so important that you have to take away my last few days of enjoyment until I shall be wed."

Rhaenyra's face fell. Your father has been trying to find you both a proper suitor. He agreed to let you choose your husbands if you do so in the time he desires. You and Rhaenyra have been travelling around the seven kingdoms for that exactly purpose, but none of the men either of you saw raised your interest. Now, you were waiting anxiously for your father's picks.

"Don't be like that. Father might come around. He haven't eyed anyone for either of us."

"Yet. But don't try to evade me! What are the mysterious plans of tonight, Rhaeny?"

"I- I'm not sure, actually. Daemon wants me to accompany him. In the guise of a boy. It's like an adventure!"

Another too big smile for a proper princess spread your lips. Rhaenyra's happiness made you happy as well. She rarely took time for herself. To feel, to explore - her own personhood if anything else was off limits. Unlike you, who had your nightly rides above storms or through peaceful stars.

"Swear to me you'll tell everything tomorrow."

"Thank you, y/n!" Rhaenyra flew her dragon closer, enough so that the both of you could hug. "I will tell you all of it in the morning," she beamed. And you descended.

You and Rhaenyra were making your way to the palace after you took care of the dragons for the night. She had to meet Daemon and change and you... well, you didn't know what you'll do, if you were to be honest.

"Princess..es." A soft smile made its way to your lips, heating you cheeks before you could even comprehend the stumble of words. Your body reacted on its own accord to the low, sweet voice. Ser Criston Cole was on patrol duty, it seemed. Or at least for the first half of the night, when another guards would replace him and his fellow.

You never missed it, the change of guards. Whether you were spending the first hours of moonlight watching Ser Cole laugh with his companions, stretch or jump and do push ups to keep sleep away until eventually his features loosened, his smile but a fading ghost lost in a yawn and he stumbled over his words to say goodnight on his way to bed, or you were swirling around the palace roof on the nights he'd take the second shift to see him run energically to the other guards, patting them on the back and cracking some jokes you never heard, you took the habit to sight the handsome knight as often as you made it possible.

Rhaenyra smiled back at him, wishing him an easy night as she moved past. She was the one he noticed first. The first to call after. You were a mere second thought, you mused sadly.

"Good night, princess y/n," he said politely as you walked past him. But he spared you no glance. Your smiled was tight when you lightly bowed your head to him in recognition and moved on.

How come him and Rhaenyra were friends, but he acted around you so... proper? Back straight, eyes fixed in front of him as if he were a statue only coming to life to serve and protect when ordered or needed, arms folded behind and chest flaunted proudly, representing the royal family. Why couldn't he be himself with you too? Like he was with Rhaenyra: laid back, easy going, speaking his mind freely, even allowing himself to be her confidant. And he would share with her too, like friends do.

Ever since the tournament, your heart skipped a beat every time you saw him. With time, your breath caught in your chest even when you heard his voice, or long, joy filled laugh echoing in the halls. You couldn't help the jealousy rising in your bile every time Ser Cole and Rheanyra were together. They get so close in such short notice! Meanwhile you and him were still on title before names basics.

"How did you do that?" You asked out of breath as you ran to catch up with her.

"Do what?" Under any other circumstances you would have thought she's teasing you. But tonight Rhaenyra was distracted.

"Forget it. It's nothing important. Where are you to meet with uncle?"

The older Targaryen princess, as big sisters often seem to, fell pray to the need to offer comfort to - and brighten the mood of - her little sister. Even not knowing what issued such ache in your weak tone.

"Would you like to come with us?" She said, instead of answering your question.

From where they have fallen in self pity, jealousy and despair, your eyes surged forward to meet Rhaenyra's in excited surprise.

"It's only fair," she shrugged in answer to your silent question of approval. "I ruined your night, so you might as well pay me back."

"I won't ruin anything!" You protested, seemingly offended. But a large laugh bubbled in your chest, hard to contain.

Your excitement was chipped, but not bend, when Daemon faltered for mere seconds before reluctantly agreeing to take you with them. Rhaenyra and your uncle were walking fast in front of you, never once unlocking their hands. You struggled to keep up. Perhaps they were trying to lose you? That wouldn't make any sense, you argued to your own mind. They wouldn't leave you alone in the city at night. And what for would they even be tempted to do so?

All thoughts emptied your brain as you came to a sudden halt in Daemon's heels. He led you and your sister to a brothel! Rhaenyra's pupils dilated in the night. Curiosity, raw thrill and pure joy buzzed through her body. You could feel it even a few steps behind. To be in such a place, dressed as a boy, should have been a matter of fantasies. But here you were.

"You don't have to go in if you don't want to," your uncle said, turning to face you quickly before turning his attention back on your much more eager sister. "I can call for a guard to keep you company in a tavern nearby. One I know will never speak of it."

You bit at the inside of your cheeks with your canine. Though a virgin and a princess, you were aware of the activities that went down in a pleasure house and what they entailed. Sort of. You used to eavesdrop conversations between guards as a child. Sneak and steal some of the forbidden books your tutors warned you about being unproper for your delicate, feminine eyes. You read them in the sky, feet dangling from Attor's back as he floated easy too high up to be seen.

But standing in front of the brothel's door right now, close enough to smell the too sweet odor of mixed perfumes and scented candles you felt your heart constrict painfully in your chest. The slapping sounds of skin on skin contact, the loud groans and breathy moans chilled your blood and sweat that begin to form on your skin.

Unexplainable fear overtook your senses. You couldn't do it! Of course, a part of you wanted to. March inside, pick a handsome man and get it over with. Pop the flower everyone told you to nurture and save for your husband. But the feeling that this wasn't how it's supposed to be wouldn't evade you. No matter how much you'd try to convince yourself that you can't possibly know that, your mind wouldn't let go of the maddeningly aphrodisiac love making reaped from promising pages.

"Yes, please."

Daemon looked relieved. He ordered both of you to stay still, hidden in the shadows nearby, and rushed to get the up mentioned guard.

"Are you feeling... well?"

"Yes, Rhaeny, don't worry for me. Worry for yourself. You seem like you could become addicted to this place and you haven't even entered."

"It feels freeing."

"I know."

"Then why won't you come in? I'm quite scared too of the unknown of it. But it's not a panic worthy fear. Like when father married Alicent -" you both winced -" it's more of a thrill. I want this. Whatever this is, wherever the night will lead me to do."

"You're excited."

"Aren't you? We're actually in the town. On our own. Without thousands of eyes judging our every move. People didn't even recognized us!"

You smiled at your sister's happiness. Once again, it was enough for your own to surge as well. You shook your head. "Have fun, Rhaenyra. But don't do anything stupid. I'll get drunk waiting for you. I've never been drunk before."

You both burst in incontrollable giggles. That's how birds must feel when they fly around the world, freed of any cage, following only their instincts, you thought. And their bellies, the growl of your stomach added. It made you laugh even harder.

That's how Daemon found you. Teary eyed, voice hoarse from laughing, bodies trembling with shakes of hiccups, remains of wild, sister with madness, joy.

"I see, my prince. This is how you got them to agree with such an idea. You got them drunk."

If you were, indeed, intoxicated, his voice was enough to sober you up. Ser Cole, in all his tall, polished glory, smirked next to a confused Daemon. It wasn't a mean smirk, nor a teasing one you saw on you dearest knight's lips. His eyes, so dark as the deepest nights, seemed even bigger now. You realized his pupils grew in size, flooding the warm black of his irises with something more feral.

The same look was in your uncle's eyes, fixed on Rhaenyra. But where Criston was wearing himself like a calculated predator, a dragon if not of blood, then of demeanor, Daemon had a goofy, adoring smile in the corner of his lips.

"I haven't done anything, Ser Cole. They are here on they own, sober, accord."

Not wasting anymore time, your uncle grabbed your sister by the hand again and stormed inside the pleasure house. Alone with Criston, your care free spirit from earlier grew heavier. You noticed the look in his eyes, which you concluded to be lust, but you thought he sighted your sister. And the thought weight more than it should have.

"I was told to stick at your side, princess, in your nightly adventure. And to never speak of what shall happen. Please, don't pay me any mind and do as your heart desires."

You turned on you heels with not a single word uttered to your guard. What could you have said? You are what my heart desires, but you act so distant and cold I'm afraid that will never be? You wouldn't dare. So you choose the safer option: silence. And because of that you missed how his shoulders, held high and proud, slogged at your behavior. How he closed his eyes and bite back a sigh, bowling and relaxing his fingers at his sides.

You reached a small house that smelled like piss and shoved your way inside. Cheap bear stinking like dragon food crumbs splashed from knocked together in cheers cups. Dirty dishes traveled from table to table, not once being washed or changed for the clients. But at least the food looked good.

"Are you sure you want to be here, princess?" Ser Cole eyed the tavern with warry distaste.

"I want to see what life truly feels like," you said in earnest as you sat at a shacking table. Criston scoffed.

"You live in a palace, wear clothes adorned in jewels and gold and ride dragons for fun. You do live the life. The good one."

"I am locked in a beautiful prison, but prison nonetheless. I wear dresses I can barely move in so nobles could approve of me. Gawk at my figure, judge my manners and my speech and bid for my hand to my father. But the dragons are the good life, indeed. I cannot - and don't want to - argue with you about that."

Your hushed blurt out rendered Ser Cole to silence. It wasn't until your food came when he spoke again. Much to your delight as you couldn't believe the first time you had a chance to befriend the man you have fallen for you poured your heart out and scared him.

"I must apologize." You cringed as he went back to the cold, dutiful speech. "I assumed... I didn't know."

"I suppose I overreacted as well. I know nothing of your life before King's Landing. I know these are struggling people, who seek oblivion for a night and would gladly take my place. It's my first night to experience freedom. And soon to be the last. I am to marry one of my father's chosing, but there are so many things I want to try!"

Criston's jaws clenched at the mention of marriage. He stuffed his mouth with the game's meat to have something to focus onto in his attempt to regain composure.

"And you pick the dirtiest tavern in town?"

"It was the closest," you smiled at his teasing tone. Feeling an iced wall finally breaking down between you two. "I was hungry."

"I can see that," Criston laughed. He, then, took a handkerchief from a hidden pocked in his armor and leaned over the table. His movements were wry, doubtful. So much unlike his confidence in battle. Locking his eyes with yours, he brushed the material over your mouth.

You tried to hide your surprise, block the instict of jerking away from his touch. You didn't want him to believe you didn't enjoy it, like he seems to think you dislike his self appointed lesser company.

"Thank you," flustered and happy beyond understanding, you leaned your cheek in his touch. E/c eyes burning in pits of mysteries and lust. Though there was something more you didn't want to decipher. Didn't want to hope. Could it be love? Affection? Admiration, like Daemon watched Rhaenyra with? It was better to hope than to be dissappointed by the truth.

As Criston broke eye contact, breathing more loudly than before, kicking his leg under the table and druming his fingers on the shacking wood, you considered your options. Tasting alcohol for the first time in your life, possibly even getting drunk sounded good. Fun, even. But standing face to face to Ser Cole, having the chance to bond, or something more...

You still trembled a bit at the thought of the brothel. Except now it was mostly with regret. You have wanted to see what happens. Understand why people want it so badly. And you beat yourself up from chickening out. Just that now, you could place a reason next to your hesitation. You didn't want simply anyone willing to take you. You wanted Ser Criston Cole.

"Maybe I can take you riding one day," you spit out before you could overthink it. You, Criston and Attor, alone in the sky. It sounded like peace should feel like.

Ser Cole gulped, stopping his body to a still statue. "Ride," he cleared his throat, eyes bulged in his head, "riding, princess?"

"Yes. With Attor. Dragonback riding. You seemed to be taken by them earlier."

On the word taken, he chocked again, brown curls spasming around his head as he denied it. "I mean, yes! Please!" He seemed to come back to his senses from a chaotic dream. "I would like to fly with you."

Your small, hesitant smile brightened the dark tavern. It looked like Ser Cole was just as nervous around you as yiu were around him. Perhaps, then, he saught your friendship as you did his. Or maybe even more.

The next of the meal happened in content silence. At least on your part. Criston brushed his teeth together, resuming his hectic body movements, avoiding to look at you at all costs. Specifically avoiding to see the way your mouth wraps around bite impaled on the fork between taking it in your mouth. How your throats bobs as you swallow. Closing his eyes against the satisfying sigh you let out once you were full.

Ser Col couldn't be more thankful for thick armor he had on. Nor could he be more annoyed by it. The layers of metal and cloth painfully strangled the bulge growing in his pants at the mere proximity of you. He shouldn't have clean your mouth. The touch of your lips, even through the material of the handkerchief sent shivers down his spine. He would have come in his pants if he hadn't remind himself you were to be wed soon. Criston knew he stood no chance for your hand. But hope is a cockroach. It always finds a way to survive, no matter how many times it's stomped on to.

When you pushed your soft cheek into his roughened palm, the dreams of a day when he could snake a hand around you and catch your lips with his in a long, passionate kiss, freely, were born anew.

"Is something wrong?"

"Hm? No! No. What could be wrong, princess?"

"Y/n, please. I have to confess I jealous of my sister for quite the while now. I cannot stand these formalities from you."

Skies above! What you were doing to him! When he arrived at King's Landing, princess Rhaenyra has been a friendly voice in a sea of steel strangers. But it was you who took his breath away. With your sister he found his words easily. He could relax. Around you? He needed to impress. To hear you were feeling the same warmed his heart, dangerously so.

"Y/n. Very well, then, please call me Criston. No more 'Ser Cole'."

"Deal."

"Where to next, y/n?"

You bit your lips and his eyes fell immediately to the white of your teeth shining against the flesh of your mouth. He licked his own. It gave you the confidence you needed to ask what you wanted of him.

"Take me back to the palace."

A crease at the bridge of his nose. "You're done with the adventure tonight?"

"Not even close, Criston. I was just thinking of a different kind of adventure." You tried your best to mimic the suggestive looks you read and heard about. But you didn't know what those were or how they were supposed to feel like on your face. You only hoped you managed to pull off an inviting, sexy demeanor.

Your handsome knight gulped, reaching for his helmet to stand up. Hesitation playing in his eyes. You could tell he was trying to find the rigt words to tell you off.

So you snatched the heavy, shining helmet from his fingers while he was lost in thought.

"Princess – y/n," he corrected himself shortly. You only beamed at him, a fleeting smirk beginning to blossom on your face. Blinking innocently at him, you took short, but many, steps back. Not once breaking the innocent haze staring in his lustful one.

"What is it, Ser... Criston?"

"My helmet, please," he extended a hand, speaking with difficulty. It encouraged you. Despite its weight you twirled it to take a better look at it.

"Oh, this little, old thing. You want it back?"

"I need it, yes."

"Well, if it's so important, come and get it." And you took off running.

That bubbly laugh you could only allow at night echoed in the crammed streets of King's Landing. You bumped into people who paid you no mind, other than, perhaps, here and there, some angry mutters or bitter warnings to be more careful.

Every now and then you'd steal a brief glance to your back. And you felt yourself become even lighter with joyous spirit each time you did. Criston was tailing you. A bashful smile creeping on his face when he, not able to take his eyes off you, ran into passer byers. As soon as the path was clear, though, his lips spread in a large grin from ear to ear.

"I can do this all night, y/n. How much can you hold up?" He teased.

"I guess we have to find out. Or..." you trailed off, coming to a quick stop. You held the helmet in front of you with both hands, urging Criston to step closer.

You stood beneath your chamber's window, where a thick tangle of ivy climbed from the ground to the crenels. You used it to climb down your window for your nightly getaways with Attor. Or climb up to avoid the guard and fetch your silent dragon from there. The window was open.

Criston neared in. Still keeping you at arms' length he tried to get the helmet without entering your space. Sharply, you brought it closer to you, forcing Criston to stumble over you.

Both if your hands were now on the helmet, but neither seemed to notice. Your chests heaved under heavy breaths, almost touching, if not for the layers of clothes between. Matching smiles worn on your faces, but you wouldn't notice, gaze locked in each other's eyes.

"Or," you breathed out, his proximity setting your already tired heart on an even quicker beat. "We could tire in a different way."

Saying so, you touched his cheek. Warm skin met your ghostly brush, sweaty from the run. You tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and once you found your fingers linked with the soft, rich curls, you couldn't move it away.

Criston's head fell on yours. Tired to fight desire any longer. The brave knight, the winner of all battles he took part in, found the one he wouldn't have a chance against. You, on the battlefield of love, lust and need.

Foreheads still touching, Criston brought his hand to your face, cupping your chin in his large palm. Large enough to cover your frame and brush a thumb over your lips.

"Are you sure? I don't think I'll be able to stop once I have even the smallest taste of you."

"Yes. I want you, Criston. Whatever it is you have in mind, do not stop."

His grip tightened on you – not enough to bruise, but enough to tell you the effect you had on him and his self restraint – as you felt the vibration of a groan passing through his body.

"You aren't aware of what you do to me, y/n."

Likewise, you wanted to say. "Than show me."

And before you knew it, his lips were on yours. The soft touch tingled your whole body and instinctively, you plucked your own lips to meet his. A satisfied moan of his was swallowed by the kiss as you let your head fall back and lids closing over your sight.

You pulled back for air, goofy smiles plastered on both of your faces. And, as if there was a thread sewed between the two of you now, you clashed your moths again. And again.

This time, his hands roamed over your body, feeling every curve, every softness of it. You sighed, pushing yourself more and more into his hands.

"Skies above!" He exclaimed in a rushed whisper of admiration. You smiled sheepishly, catching your breath.

"I want to feel you too," you said, walking your fingers over the polished grey of his armor. He stepped back, only enough to have space to untie the strings keeping his panoply in place. With slow movements, Ser Cole pulled it over his head.

He took your hand, then, placing it on his chest. You passed your palms over his upper body, feeling his muscles through the cloth hiding his body from you. When you reached the hem of his shirt, you snuck your hands underneath. He gasped, but circled your wrists with his hands to keep yours in place when you, in the panic surging through your veins, tried to remove them.

"Keep going," he rasped out. You stepped closer. The feel of his hard skin, warm and sharp under your touch, his scent - a surprisingly pleasant mix of steel and beer - filled your being. His presence possessed you, consuming you with need and want. And that you caused the same to him only strengthen the feelings.

"We can climb to my room. Window's open."

No sooner said than done, carried in the arms of Criston, you found yourselves in your dim lit room. Only the clear night sky, bright with stars and moonlight shone above the two you, illuminating your steps towards love.

Ser Cole lowered to the ground, dropping his head on your lower belly, inhaling deeply before lifting your shirt and tracing a line of light touches of his lips, forehead and nose on your bare skin. Your hands flew to his hair, threading through it as an overwhelming pleasure like you never felt before took over you.

Now Criston lingered under your breasts. Each time he exhaled a ticklish breath of hot air, your toes curled in your shoes. You pulled at his hair, grazing the skin at the back of his neck.

"Impatient, princess?" The amusement in his voice would usually melt your heart, but now it had the opposite effect. Annoyance bit bitterly in the back of your mind. So you pulled away a mere half an inch to push your clothes away. In a moment of bold desire, you stripped of every piece of material covering your body.

The sight of your naked form wiped the smugness off Ser Cole. Lips parted slightly, swallowing hard and breathing heavy with awe sparkling in his eyes, Criston grasped your arms, rubbing up and down their length slowly. His eyes searched every part of you with grateful respect: from the blissed out expression on your face, to the perched up nipples against the cold, from the bump hooding your sex to the toes rolling against the floor.

You closed in the gap, hot skin brushing against rough clothes. You tipped on your toes, circling his neck. A shiver passed through as his one of his palms came to rest low on your back, the other one digging in your hips. Partly to steady you, partly in attempt to sooth the insatiable growing need to feel you.

Your fingers danced around the hem of his shirt. Making sure to touch more of his heated body than the piece of clothing. Eventually, you traced the knotted laces, pulling softly at them until they came undone. Criston took his shirt off and, in doing so he arched his back, pushing his hips and torso into you.

A moan escaped you, stumbling over your feet in surprise. Criston caught you, letting his hands descend to your ass and squeezing it lightly. It earned him another moan, music to his ears.

Your head was resting on his shoulder, too heavy with pleasure to keep it up. An idea bloomed in your mind. Without thinking too much of it, you kissed his neck. Criston groaned and you gained confidence. You let your hands travel on his back as your mouth explored his front. Collarbone, chest, shoulder.

Criston's pants tighten against your thigh. On cue with the gasp you released, Ser Cole fell to his knees. As his hands knitted your breasts, his lips tickled your body.

When his mouth touched your pubic mound, you involuntarily pushed from him.

"I'm sorry," he said immediately, getting up and giving you more space.

"No, don't be. I just... can we take it slower?"

Criston nodded keenly. "Of course."

The next time he approached you, he waited for you to make the first move. You pressed your body into his and kissed him hard. Soon, your moths were open, tongues pushing against each other, twirling in one another, teeth clashing in desperation.

He begin to suck at your neck, sloppy open mouthed kisses leaving a wet trail behind that, when wind blew from outside, rose goosebumps on your shivering form, hardening your breasts. Criston looked for permission, or any sign of hesitation in your eyes before taking one nipple in his mouth, massaging the other with his hand.

Your nails sunk in his shoulderblades, your breath coming out in hitched pants, turning your moans in cries of bliss. "Criston," his name evaded your lips. The knight froze for just a moment before straightening up and telling you to jump, driven by the sound of your pleasure speaking his name.

Criston secured your legs around his waist. His hardened erection throbbing against your wet folds. An itching sensation arouse in your pussy as your insides lit on fire. While Criston attended to your upper body, licking, sucking, biting softly, all making the knits in your belly tighter and the empty feeling in your cunt more annoying, you rolled your hips against his.

"Y/n," he groaned, somewhere between want, delight, and needy distress. His palms seized your sides, keeping you in place. An unsatisfied scoff, that sounded more like a whine, made Criston chuckle.

"Criston," you moaned, trying to escape his grasping fingers digging in your hips. "Please."

"Patience, princess, my sweet y/n. Patience. I want to make this special for you."

And how he did it!

He walked you to the bed, lowering you on the rose scented mattresses. He kissed you once. A long, slow show of love rather than lust. Then he untied his pants and let the drop to the ground. Criston wanted nothing more than to climb over you and worship your body how he knew best. But he resisted the urge, giving you a sight of his naked body.

Just as he thought, you prompted on your elbows, taking him all in. Then you crawled to the edge of the bed. Eyes piercing his own, you touched shyly the hard member between his legs. A whimper he'd never admit to echoed in the room, causing a giggle from you.

More sure on yourself, you closed your fist around his cock. You pumped it, enjoying the twitch it gave in your hands, the reactions you caught from Criston. Whose hands were now playing with threads of your hair, trying to stop himself from rutting into your fist.

In a spur of confidence you dropped your head and kissed the tip of his leaking dick. "Y/n," he yelped. "Tease." He could barely talk.

"Not at all. Just turning back the favor." You winked at him, lying back on the bed, pulling him over you.

Criston's hands trapped your head between them as he lined himself with your entrance. "Are you sure?"

"You beamed up at him, pushing your chest into his to capture his lips. "Take me, Ser Cole, Criston, I'm all yours," you said before letting your head fall on the pillow.

A small laugh broke the silence, speeding through your knight's body. He laced your fingers with his, spreading your bodies for each other. Then he touched the tip of his cock to your aching, pulsing walls. Your body reacted as on cue, clenching around it, not enough to fill you but enough to leave you wanting for more.

You raised your hips in an invitation to go deeper. Criston obliged. Listening to every shift of your body, he took his time pushing inside you, giving you time to adjust to him spreading you. Once again, your moans turned into blissed out cries as he begin to move, scratching that itch just right.

Ser Cole wasn't silent himself. Biting his lips to contain the sighs and groans, tightening his hold on your fingers to keep himself from going too fast.

You set the pace. He thrusted into you and you clenched around him, as if your pussy wanted to grab to his cock and never let go. You rolled your hips to meet him as he moved his own as if dancing.

The fire knots in your belly grew tighter and tighter and with them the strength with which your walls pulsed around him. "You're close, aren't you?" He whispered sweetly, cleaning your face of hair stuck to with with sweat. You did the same for him as you urged his head closer to yours.

"Let go, y/n," Criston murmured in the kiss. "Let go for me."

And you did. Arching your back, releasing the loudest cry so far, you came around him as he rode you through your orgasm.

Criston was still hard inside you, you noticed, even though he stopped moving. An urgent twitch spasming against your folds. He wanted to pull out when the highs of your pleasure calmed, but you held him in place.

"You didn't..."

"I know. I don't want to risk it."

Of course you knew how children were made. The thought simply didn't occur to you so far. "The maetrons have ways to prevent pregnancies," was all you said before dropping a hand to his lower back and pushing him inside your pussy.

"The things you do to me," Criston groaned. But snapped his hips again. "You feel so good," he murmured. Or rather, he wanted to. But it came out as a content scream as he shoot his own orgasm inside you.

Panting, chuckling, pecking each other's lips, none of you wanted the night to end. You couldn't agree to be empty again, not after he fit so perfectly in your body. He didn't argue too much. He didn't want to leave either. He'd live in your bed for the rest of his life, if he could. And you'd gladly let him.

You went down again when his cock perked up inside your cunt. This time, Criston switch you over, guiding your hips as you straddled his wait on top of him.

Ser Cole came faster the second time and only from watching you bounce on his cock, back arched, breasts jumping on your chest, hair flying around your head and whipping his face when you kissed.

He asked you for a rematch. Then you asked him to show you more. More positions, more ways to draw pleasure from your partner and from yourself. By the time the sun rose, you were both worn out, tired, sweaty, but blissfully happy.

[tangyangie]

ong okayokay what abt karma w an rlly quiet n shy reader? she's really quiet in class,speaks in a low tone,and is often asked to raise her voice. she's also sensitive so if a teacher scolded her she'd tear up easily. but when a dude in her class threw a remark abt her body? oh boy,she got mad. that's when she actually gets mad,and when she does,she just becomes the complete opposite of her shy and quiet self. and after she's done yelling at him,she just goes like;"ehe:3 oopsie!:3" while the poor boy is just bawling at her insults. hehehehehegehhd how would karma react😈

𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄

synopsis. karma x fem!reader who is shy and quiet but has a side to her that she doesn't let people see—unless in the worst of situations.

notes. oo this is a cool idea !! the oopsie ties everything together

"louder, please, y/n."

what is that, the fifth time today you've heard that?

"...3?" you say, still too quiet for the teacher's liking. but, it was loud enough to hear.

"nope. pay attention, we just said that wasn't the answer."

sighing, you buried your head in your hands and melted into your chair. you swore you heard a few snickers and felt eyes boring into your skull.

staring into your desk, your vision became blurry as the tears began to form.

school's finally out—yet not soon enough. walking as quickly as possible through the front doors, you wiped the teardrops that fell from your eyes. sniffles escaped you as you tried preventing anyone from seeing you in this state.

but, of course—karma saw you. how couldn't he? the most observant boy you know, who also happens to take notice of you more often than not?

he's watching you closely as you rush to the sidewalk, carelessly running home.

just what was going on with you?

he would've asked, but you were already out of sight by the time he registered your crying.

» » »

the next day couldn't have started off worse. the rain was one thing, but slipping and nearly falling on your face was another. watered-down mud from everyone's shoes leaving residue on the floor latched onto your clothes, making you look like even more of a mess than you already were.

more giggles. just what you needed.

pushing yourself up, you brushed yourself off as you fought the tears threatening to show themselves. wiping your face with your wrist, you took a deep breath and began walking again. that is, until you overheard a conversation.

"y/n's so dumb. her body looks like a constipated potato. i'd feel bad for anyone who had to touch it."

the only thing that followed were laughs and stares into the back of your head.

turning around, you gripped onto your backpack strap. the troubled and teary look you had on your face earlier showed no signs of ever having existed. what replaced it was a neutral look.

your face was one of a bored kid in a study hall, yet your aura was one out for blood. they could feel it.

you began slowly walking towards them. step by step. one foot in front of the other. not breaking eye contact by even blinking.

when suddenly, a smirk appeared on your features.

"constipated potato, huh?"

karma overheard you. and once seeing the look on your face, he knew he was going to stay for this.

» » »

not even a teacher was going to interfere with you now. the sheer amount of noise that was coming from you was unnatural enough, let alone the insults spewing from your lips.

they were unheard of—just your very first statement had all of their jaws dropping. you were saying the craziest things ever. the boy who insulted you began pouring out tears from the utter embarrassment he was going through.

you were on a roll. insults and taunts just expelling from your mouth with no end. the students around you couldn't help but laugh either, the situation just being so hilarious.

the boy having been reduced to a sobbing mess from the girl who would cry at a pebble knocking the window. he was on his knees at this point, sobbing into his hands. the puddle from his tears was more than the amount of rain dragged in by the students.

karma was simply bewildered. just... eyes wide, jaw dropped, completely shocked.

"not even the dog wants you, even though he ate it in the first place!! that's your personality, that's also been shit on by every 8 year old on social media that thinks they've got the comebacks of the century!!"

you weren't giving him time to get a word in, let alone recover!! this was a fight to the death, and you were beating a corpse.

"sorry that your little 'i don't shut up, i grow up—and when i look at you, i throw up' doesn't work on anyone, because it's so childish that it's funny."

no hesitation was seen by you. no signs of stopping. the bell had already rung, but there was maybe one person at their desk—on the other side of the school.

"have you even shown your face on the internet since you were 10? because that's the only time i'd say something like that in public and not actually be ashamed."

at this point, he was hiccuping and sobbing like a waterfall had been implanted in his eyes. his face was snotty and everything—he honestly looked pathetic, and everyone knew it.

you stood there in silence for a few seconds. he raised his head, looking up at you in fear.

"oops! sorry, i got a bit carried away there!" you giggle, smiling—before beginning to turn around and skip away without a care in the world.

and then a certain someone stopped you.

"oh—hey, karma!"

he was in complete shock.

"y/n, that might have been the coolest thing i have ever seen before." he smiles, honestly amused.

he's honestly so excited. spends the next three periods brainstorming pranks with you so that you can humiliate the boy even further. if he hasn't left school, yet.

he's surprised by the change in attitude, but he welcomes it with open arms. and buckets of green slime that are just itching to be poured over a certain someone.

notes. idk this one feels really short... i'm sorry i didn't make it longer 💔💔 these are also the best insults i could come up with at the moment but i have an m&m overload headache so i can't really think straight rn !!

[v3nusxsky]

Firstly I ADORE all of your work, I love reading it and it makes my day!!!

If its not to much trouble, could you write a Natasha x reader, where Natasha gets sick (like a bad case of the flu) and reader has to take care of her?

Lots of fluff and comfort 💕

If not don't worry

Either way, have an amazing day!!!

Poor Girl

*Authors note~ my first sick fic for Nat and I'm loving the requests for her and wandanat *

Trigger Warnings~ sick nat flu symptoms headache body aches throwing up fever etc

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

It wasn't uncommon for your girlfriend to try and be strong all the time, after all she is the black widow. But here in your shared room at the compound was the one room where she could let her guard down. Natasha was known for her strict routines especially when it came to her training. It was the same routine every morning where her alarm went off where she we kiss your head and slip out of the bed to adorn her training outfit and head out to train while you caught some more sleep. After training she'd shower and then come to wake you up with kisses. But not today.

No today you were the one to wake up to Nats alarm, but instead of a kiss to your head and the rustling of blankets you were greeted with a groan of pain and sniffles. She was sick. That much was obvious but you expected to see your stubborn lover attempting to continue her daily activities but that's before you knew how bad it is.

You rolled other to gather the spy in your arms only to flinch back from how sweat soaked and warm her skin was. "Oh baby" you whimpered brushing her damp hair from her head, "my poor girl is sick huh?" Another groan and her body attempting to wriggle into yours more was the response you got, "so cold babe." You allowed your eyes to scan your widow and made a mental note of all the symptoms she could have. "Friday? What's Romanoffs temperature?"

"Miss Romanoff has a temperature of 102.5, she needs to lower it" the AI informed you and you immediately knew what was wrong. She had the flu! Of course she did, the last mission had involved extensive time out in the rain. Wanda had already been sick with the flu due to the mission so of course Nat would get it too. Scooting away from the red head you made your way to the en suit to get cool wash clothes and any medicine that you could think of her needing before heading back to the bed.

One wash cloth on her forehead and another at the base of her neck you measured up the correct amounts of medication and grabbed Nats bottle of water that she alway made sure to have by the bed. In the time that took Nat had fallen back into a fever induced sleep meaning you'd need to wake your girlfriend up. "Natty, baby can you wake up for me? Just sit up to take medicine and I promise you can go straight back to sleep" you mumbled gently rousing her awake. "Babe no medicine I'm fine" she murmured not even opening her eyes.

Unwell? Yes, stubborn? Oh absolutely but there was one cure for that was only something you processed the ability to do. "Tasha, I've got my top off" you informed her and she immediately opened her eyes and tried to sit up only to whimper in disappointment at being tricked. "Oh my poor girl" you feigned your apologetic look while quickly offering the medication to your pouting lover. Only when she had taken the medication did you remove your top, exposing your soft skin and breasts to her.

That was how you found yourself holding your lover as she curled up with her head on your chest, a hand resting on top of your breast as your fingers threaded themselves through her hair. It was rare that your lover got this sick, but you always adored how she could trust you enough to let her guard down. Only you could soothe her in times like this and that's what made you feel worthy and important. Not even Wanda and her magic could soothe Natasha like you. "Sleep baby my poor girl deserves all the rest."

Word count~ 740

[ur-frndly-neighborhood-memer1]

AMITY LEARNING ABOUT LUZ'S DEATH

I've seen some people in fandom complaining about how Amity didn't see Luz's death. Because let's be honest, we all wanted to see how she'd react. That's why I wanted to come up with my own story where Amity finds out about Luz's sacrifice.

If you guys are into angst and drama like me, then stick around! Because I think I have a good scenario coming up here :)

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Eda, Raine, Lilith, Amity, Willow, Hunter and Gus are in the owl house. Eda, Raine and Lilith discussing about rebuilding the Isles while Amity, Willow, Hunter and Gus are talking.

Willow turns to Amity and asks her, "Hey Amity, have you seen Luz? She isn't around since yesterday"

Amity says, "She told me she and Camila went back to human realm to visit Vee. But she seemed a bit... tired. I think she is having trouble with sleeping"

Gus replies, "Well, after everything we've been through, who can blame her for having nightmares?"

Amity gives him a sad look, "Yeah, but I feel like there's something more than just a bad dream..."

Hunter asks, "Like what?"

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King enters the room, visibly worried, and walks towards Eda.

When Eda sees him, she kneels to get closer to his height and asks, "How is she doing now?"

King replies, "Not good... It's been 3 days and she still hasn't slept. Her mom and Vee said she wasn't eating anything either"

Amity, Willow, Hunter and Gus look at each other with worried expressions.

And Lilith asks, "We did defeat Belos and saved the Isles. I don't understand why she's still so stressed"

Eda and King share a sad look. And King speaks with a lower voice, "We need to tell them the whole thing, Eda. They should know what happened to Luz"

Amity walks towards them with a visible concern on her face, "What do you mean we should know what happened to Luz? What's going on? Is she okay? What is it that you didn't tell us?"

Eda sighs, "Okay, okay... We didn't tell you because we didn't want you kids to get worried. Just don't freak out..."

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"WHAT?!?!", Amity yells after hearing the whole story. "LUZ DIED?!?!" She asks in anger with her eyes full of tears.

Eda and King look at each other.

Lilith holds onto Hooty with shock on her face. Raine also looks sad and shocked.

Willow covers her mouth in terror and tears up, Hunter and Gus both look scared and worried.

Amity's tears already reached her chin while she holds her hand on her heart.

"Luz died... And you didn't tell us... She didn't tell us... She didn't tell me..." This realization somehow hurt Amity even more.

But Eda sees it, "Not because she wanted to hide it from you. It's just... she's still trying to get over it"

Amity understands Eda's point. But she still needed to talk to Luz.

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In the night, Luz returns to the owl house. Her hair is all messy, has dark circles around her eyes due to sleep deprivation, her face looks considerably thinner...

When she enters her room, she sees Amity waiting for her sitting in the bed.

"Oh, hola batata! I didn't know you were here" She greets her girlfriend in a joyful tone, trying to look less tired. But Amity doesn't return to her joy.

Luz thinks she must be looking miserable right now and that's why Amity is staring at her.

"Sorry, I know it's not my best mood right now!", Luz says smiling as she desperately tries to get a reaction from Amity.

But Amity still doesn't reply and keeps staring at her.

Luz starts to feeling even more uneasy now for not getting a reaction from her angry girlfriend. "Amity, is everything alright? Your eyes are all red. Did you cry?", Luz asks with a certain concern in her voice.

"Why didn't you tell me?", Amity asks.

Luz looks at her curiously, "Tell you what?"

"That you died, Luz..." Amity tears up again. "I was wondering why you looked so tired and nervous lately, but I didn't want to bother you even more, so I thought it was because the whole thing we've been through."

Luz stands there, not sure what to say. "Well, I didn't want you to get worried" she replies as she avoids eye contact with Amity. "A-and besides, I didn't actually die!" she says as she tries to sound more cheerful. "I just technically got erased from reality and ended up getting stuck between realms... But only temporarily before I met the Titan and-"

Amity interrupts her angrily, "LUZ!.."

They stand there in quiet for a moment.

Amity breaks the silence. "The lights that passed me by in Collector's Archive House... those were-"

"My soul", Luz finishes the sentence for her with a tired smile.

But Amity seems even more terrified after hearing this.

Luz holds her hands in order to comfort her girlfriend. "Look, I didn't mean to hide it, Amity. I didn't really want you to be worried about me. And also because..." Luz lets go off her hands and walks away from Amity.

"I... I don't think I was ready to talk about it. I can't even sleep without having horrible visions of Belos. And even when I wake up, I still get panic attacks like, I can't help but my body feeling numb a-and like I'm ripped apart-" Luz tears up and starts to panic again.

This time, Amity holds her into her arms to calm her down. She puts her hand on Luz's head and caresses her hair. Luz is still trembling, but her erratic breathing stops as she hugs Amity back.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't mean to hide it, I swear", Luz says as she still tries to catch her breath while crying.

"It's okay Luz. I didn't mean to remind you of that... I was just... so terrified when I heard about what happened to you. It was like having a dagger in my heart. I wasn't even there to protect you...", Amity replies as she holds her even more tightly.

Luz buries her face into Amity's shoulder and smells her hair. And they stand there like this for a while.

When they finally separate, they look at each other with teary eyes. Amity holds Luz's face and kisses on her forehead.

Luz giggles while Amity buries her face into Luz's chest.

Luz smiles and asks, "Are you trying to hear my pulse?"

"I just love feeling your heartbeat", Amity replies. She raises her head to look at Luz. "So you haven't slept for days?"

Luz didn't really need to answer though. The dark circles under her eyes were an enough proof of her sleep deprivation.

Amity pulled her to the bed and lied next to her girlfriend.

Luz slightly blushed by this move. "Amity... You don't have to do this for me"

"Of course I have to do this Luz! After hearing about your near death, you think I can sleep peacefully unless I feel you in my arms?" Amity said.

Luz smiles.

"We both need to rest, okay batata? You're safe now, I'm here for you, we have each other. So let's just sleep", says Amity before closing her eyes.

Luz closes her eyes and lets Amity hug her tightly as she also puts her arms around Amity's waist.

"Goodnight, mi amor", she says while listening to her heart beating softly.

"Goodnight, my love", Amity says as she falls asleep, knowing her girlfriend is with her and safe now.

And Luz also falls asleep for the first time without having a nightmare after 3 long days...

THE END

So, what do you guys think? That was the first story that I've written and I wasn't sure how to put it into words. But I did my best. Hope you all liked it!❤

[sun-aries]

Sunshower (18+)

Okay I finally finished it! Here's this WIP that I previewed a few months ago ':)

This takes place a couple months after their wedding!

Warning: SMUT ahead

On a day where the sun shone bright, they didn't expect to have any trouble on a short trip across the countryside. Eldin Bridge, an old and well-worn bridge on the eastern ends of the kingdom, was in desperate need of repairs, and so the queen wanted to personally assess the damage before conducting a thorough inspection.

While no one was quite comfortable allowing the queen to go unaccompanied, she was fairly miffed at the suggestion of having an entourage only a short way away from the castle, and so they settled on having her husband, the second-in-command and hero of their kingdom, singularly accompany her to and from the bridge. Mounting Epona, they rode through the eastern throughway and arrived in less than an hour.

Though he couldn't tell why, Link had a strange inkling that something was off. There was nobody in sight, save for lone creatures roaming the fields, and the weather seemed fine. Still, he trusted his instincts, and he kept his eyes and ears on high alert as he followed her along the span of the bridge.

Honestly, he wasn't surprised at all that it was in need of repairs. On his travels, he'd noticed the cracks and crumbles of the stone; a large chunk of it was even whisked away to the outskirts of the kingdom before he and Midna found and returned it. In its current state, it was likely not safe to use for much longer.

But it was a bit difficult to focus on the bridge and its durability. It was a rare thing for them to spend their days together, she with her council and he with the knights.

She was focused and diligent, analyzing every crack, humming to herself and taking notes at every stop. Hands folded behind his back, he trailed her quietly - save for the few times she threw a question his way - and watched the way her gloved hand grazed the stone, her lips pressed together in thought and the way her body arched when she bent forward.

Then, there was a drop on his shoulder. He raised his head to the glaring sun rays and the brilliant blue sky, unsullied by stormy clouds, and frowned. "Zelda," he said, cutting through the silence, and she hummed in response. "Do you feel something?" She turned to him then, brow raised, and it happened again. "It's raining."

"What?"

"It's-" He paused, momentarily questioning his own sanity before repeating, "It's raining." Before either could deliberate this strange notion, a torrent of rain rippled over them and Zelda gasped, throwing her hands out at the sudden downfall.

Being in the heart of the countryside was in no way a good place to be amidst a sudden storm, but fortunately, Link knew every crevice of the country, and so he grabbed her hand and sprinted forward to the other end of the bridge. Tucking her notes against her chest, she followed blindly, even when he took her to the most crumbled corner and yelled, "Jump!"

Normally, she'd be able to follow without issue, but as she landed on the wet and uneven chunk of stone, her heel slipped. Zelda let out a short scream as the image of plummeting to her death flashed through her mind, before she felt Link's hands envelop her waist and pull her to him.

She pressed herself to his chest, trembling, and let out a shaky sigh. Her heart was racing and she was soaked, her hair and clothes saturated with the onslaught of rain. Link was in no better state: his blond hair was darkened to a caramel brown and water dripped from the hem of his clothes.

"Are you o-" When she peeled away from him, their eyes met and the words died in his throat. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks.

It was the way her dark wet hair pasted to her skin, against her flushed cheeks and fair shoulders, while a few stray aways curled around her temples. Her clothes, heavy and laden, clung to her body and accented every curve. It was the way her lips were red and her breath was hot that made his pulse thrum against his wrist.

Zelda caught his slip-up, naturally - easily, and searched him carefully. And it took less than precisely two seconds for her to realize why. His heated gaze roamed her, unconcious but unrestrained, lingering at her cleavage. It was evident what was going through his mind.

Link realized he'd been caught by the time their eyes met, his cheeks terribly flustered and eyes wide. He swallowed and her breath caught.

It would be terribly improper to get carried away. And yet -

Their lips met in a frenzy. Should they have given it a second thought, they might've realized how absurd it was. Two warriors stranded in the middle of the countryside, chilled to the bone, and this was what they came up with.

But her back hit the wall, her hips pinned to the stone, and neither of them really thought twice. His body rolled against hers, each thrust sending a surge of heat through her body.

"Link," she breathed before kissing him again, grabbing hold of his shoulders and drawing him closer. "We shouldn't."

"I know," Link growled before kissing her again. He then veered off to her jaw, scattering a dozen more kisses, and Zelda moaned, throwing her head back against the stone.

His lips travelled to her neck, drinking up the raindrops that lingered. She was panting softly but it rang like thunder in his ears. His hands cupped her waist, rolling encouragingly in his grip, as his tongue followed the rivulets that trickled down her chest.

Had she worn one of her regular layered outfits, the sight might've been different, but as it was, her body was practically visible beneath the flimsy dress. The white of her skirts was translucent, her long legs outined by the gossamer fabric, and the burgundy bodice was drawn tight around her breasts.

The sight was irresistible. Everything she did was so addictive, so exhilarating; every pant sent a shudder down his spine, every taste leaving him breathless.

Holding him by the shoulders, as firm as the rocks of Death Mountain, she squeezed a little tighter when he fell to a knee. Link looked up at her with an intensity in his eyes that made her shiver. His wet bangs fixed to his forehead, the ends draping over his wild eyes and shedding droplets of water. "You're so beautiful." The heat of his palms burned through her skin, his fingertips pressing into her in a way that told her he wasn't letting go anytime soon.

Lovingly, Zelda pushed aside the bangs and cupped his cheeks. "Touch me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite the downpour, he heard her command loud and clear.

One hand gripped her sleeve from behind and pulled it down with a few short tugs, and it was drawn taut beneath her breasts, pushing them up in an enticing way. His eyes met hers again, finding no timidity nor shame in them. Zelda bore herself to him with dignity, even basked in his gaze, and he smiled. His tongue found her nipple and she gasped breathlessly, watching him devour her like a forbidden fruit. The taste of the rainwater mixed with her sweat, salty and cold, was revitalizing.

Meanwhile, Link peeled her skirts from her legs and bunched them up at her waist, immensely grateful that there were none of the typical layers beneath. Rubbing the heel of his palm against her, she let out a cry, her head tossing against the wall, and matched his rhythm with small, keen thrusts of her hips.

"Link, please just-" Her words fell on a paticularly loud gasp when he tucked his hand into her panties, where she wanted him. "Yes." His fingers hooked into her before thrusting deep and measured, and it left her mouth gaping.

Her fingers fanned over the sides of his neck and tilted his jaw upwards, pulling on him like the reins of a stead so that their eyes might meet. His gaze was staved, droplets of rainwater dripping from his hair and following the seam of his gaping mouth. Just the way that he touched her, deep but slow, hungry but savouring, showed her how much he loved her. Every kiss was indulgent, every touch reverent; the intensity in which Link wanted her made her body tremor.

She moaned, locking her fingers at the back of his neck and pulling him up to kiss her frantically. He made a noise from the sudden collision of their mouths and his movements in her faltered for just a moment. But her kiss encouraged him to quicken his pace and when they parted, he leaned his forehead against the wall, just over her shoulder, his heavy breaths echoing in the shell of her ear.

His hungry eyes were drunk with passion, staring blankly at the sharp line of her brow, and he whispered, "Does this feel good?"

Turning her head the slightest, she rested her cheek against his, heat burning between them. Breathlessly, she answered, "It's so...so good."

His stomach lurched: her voice, her pleasure, it was all too much; he couldn't stand it anymore. His pulse went into overdrive and he suddenly pulled away.

Tucking his hands beneath her, he lifted her clear off the ground, his years of being a goat herder finally paying off. She gasped, grabbing hold of him to steady herself, and he flashed her a wolfish grin, his wild eyes shimmering with laughter. Even then, in the peak of their pleasure and the depths of their deprivation, he was himself: handsome and rugged, yet charming and boyish.

Pressing her further against the wall for stability, he freed himself from his trousers, and as her ankles locked behind him, he entered her in one swift thrust. Zelda cried out, her voice getting lost to the heavy rain.

He moved within her with slow but deliberate movements, punctuated with soft grunts in her ear. One of his hands held her steady and the other cupped her cheek – tender as always but just a little bit rough, a little bit desperate. Pleasure jolted through her, settling in the place they connected. "Please," she begged, "don't stop."

"I won't." His words were unfaltering, his voice a low tenor, and it made her whimper. Her muscles clenched around him, unwilling to let go, and she wrenched his head back to catch his lips, drinking him in with open-mouthed kisses. Each time they parted, she spotted the frustration and want in his face, his eyes clouded and lost in hers.

His patience was thinning by the moment, his want mounting to an apex, and Zelda felt it as his hips snapped against her. Needing to feel her pulse against him, he dropped his hand from her cheek and snaked it between them, rubbing her where she needed it the most. She gasped. "Link…!" Her toes curled in her boots, clicking behind him, enthralled by his brazen ways. "Link, I'll-"

"Please." She stilled for a moment as her entire body went taut, curling up against him and gripping his shoulders for dear life. He buried his face against her neck and murmured, "Zelda." Tracing the expanse of her neck with his lips, he drank up the raindrops gathered in her collarbone, and she angled her head to help.

Every sensation, his tongue, his fingers, his member inside her, sparked something inside her, setting her on fire despite her drenched clothes. She coiled her arms around his neck and cried out against his shoulder, clinging onto him as her orgasm came over her. It coursed through her in ripples, causing her to spasm against him and cry out in pleasure.

It only revigorated him, hastening his thrusts into her tight passage, deep and desperate. Retracting his hand from between them, he reached behind her and cradled her head, fingers laced in the wet locks of her hair. Zelda cried out again from the sensation, amplified by his rough and desperate rutting and his orgasm ripped through him, sharp and sudden. His cry was muffled against her neck and drowned out by the rain still pouring outside.

There was a still moment as their shudders died down and the rainfall gradually replaced the ringing in their ears. Even as Link gently set her down, his lips continued their journey across her neck, just indulging in her taste and smell, permeated with sweat and rainwater, and the warmth radiating off her. Her skirts fell heavily against her legs and his hand drifted down her back, fingers sifting through her hair.

"That was..." Zelda started breathlessly, "unexpected."

Link leaned his forehead against hers, his breath fanning her lips. "I'm sorry, it's just-" He licked his lips. "You...I've never seen you like that."

"Like what?"

"You're soaking wet from the rain. You look...amazing."

The heat returned to her cheeks and she simply let out a breathless laugh. "Perhaps we should stay out in the rain more often."

He shuddered. "Yes, please."

[strawberryxmagic]

[ KAT MCNAMARA | she/her ] Another face is seeking safety in New Orleans. Make sure to welcome ARTEMIS MIKAELSON to the home of the resilient. Rumor has it that they are an 22/28 year old VAMPIRE, who is one of the SURVIVORS but we’ll keep that a secret. They are said to be GUARDED, but that’s all a façade to cover up their LOYAL nature. We’ve heard that they can be found listening to MIDNIGHT RAIN by TAYLOR SWIFT, which sums them up pretty well. Let’s hope that they can find a way to survive this harsh new world.

tw: death, abuse

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄:

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: artemis grace azarov mikaelson 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: art 𝐀𝐆𝐄: twenty two / twenty eight 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄: march 13th 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍: austin, texas 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄: new orleans 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: mechanic SPECIES: vampire 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓: chaotic 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓:

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂: working on a car, blood bags, pink leather jacket, moons and stars,

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: death and abuse

𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘: Artemis had a normal life. Until she was 10. Her parents died from a break-in robbery. The police said it was just bad luck but normal. She couldn't imagine how losing the two people she loved unconditionally could ever be seen as normal. She was then put into the system. And then foster care where she bounced around from home to home. Either they didn't realize just how traumatized she was or it was causing problems with her family when she'd wake up from a nightmare where she would see her dead parents on the floor of their home. Or her anger was too much for them. Whatever reason they gave, she would be sent back to an orphanage. Until the last home she was put in at 15. The woman "specialized" in troubled kids. There were several kids already in the home when Artemis arrived.

Artemis quickly realized that the woman was only in it for the check the kids provided. She was an older woman and tried to rule the house with an iron fist. She locked the fridge and pantry to keep the kids from snacking or eating anything she didn't approve of, she cut the wifi off even if the kids were using it for school very early in the evening, cut off the hot water and make them shower still. Things like that. And if Artemis or one of the older kids made her mad enough, she'd hit them. Artemis, already having rebellious feelings from the past homes, ended up falling into the wrong crowd at school. She joined the smalltime gang and participated in all the normal teenage rebellions; sneaking out, theft, underage drinking. She got more into street racing to make some cash. And she didn't bother hiding it from the foster woman, earning her more than one hit in her three years there.

When she aged out of the system, she stayed with some of the older members of the gang. She did jobs for them; stole cars, raced, robbed rich houses. She wasn't in a good place. She felt like she wasn't really living but barely surviving just to pay them some for the mattress she slept on. One night, when she was 20, they had a job for her. There was a mansion in a nearby town. They were supposed to have a bunch of things that she could grab that would help them out for awhile. Artemis agreed, feeling like she couldn't say no. Even if she didn't want to anymore. She wasn't a stupid teenager anymore. She got a car and drove to the mansion they had talked about. She hadn't been told that there was a party going on. She'd hoped that that would help her. That they'd be too distracted with the party. It did not go that way. She was in the process of grabbing things they could pawn when someone appeared in the doorway. She doesn't remember much after that beyond being attacked and ravaging hunger. Not until she was standing in the living room of the house surrounded by mutilated bodies.

With her newfound vampirism, that she didn't understand at all, she ended up on a rampage. Anytime she was remotely thirsty, it tended to turn into a bloodbath. She couldn't seem to stop herself. She felt a ridiculous amount of guilt after each time and would try to lock herself away somewhere but it never worked. Every time she was thirsty, it tended to start again. And she was all alone with no help whatsoever.

That was when she was found by Rebekah Mikaelson. The Original Vampire was gentle with the obviously traumatized girl. Artemis hated what she was doing, what she was. But Rebekah provided her with some answers. She told her that she was exhibiting Ripper behavior. That she was more sensitive to blood than other vampires. She explained all her unanswered questions about the rules of what she was. The blonde saved her. She provided her a safe space. And, despite not having her trust at first beyond what she could provide, Rebekah earned the young girl's trust. Artemis stuck by Rebekah's side as she travelled. The relationship developed naturally and Rebekah helped her work through some of the things she never had. Eventually, Artemis saw her as a mother figure. One that she hadn't had in her life since she was a scared 10 year old. Rebekah welcomed her into the family, introducing her to the other Mikaelsons. Artemis loves her new family and wouldn't trade them for anything in the whole world.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍'𝐒: ⭒ she completely leaned into the moon theme growing up ⭒ she loves racing cars, getting an adrenaline rush from it ⭒ she has a guilty pleasure of listening to kpop ⭒ she loves reading novels, even if her cousin teases her for it.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

parents: penelope azarov ( mother ) nikolai azarov ( father ) rebekah mikaelson ( mother ) siblings: luna mikaelson ( sister ) extended family: freya mikaelson, elijah mikaelson, klaus mikaelson, kol mikaelson, hope mikaelson, briggs mikaelson,

[canis-or-cannotis-lycaon]

TIMING: October 12th, the day after When the Rain Stops LOCATION: Decidedly less deep in the Pines PARTIES: Alex (@letsbenditlikebennett Gael (@lithium-argon-wo-l-f and Ren (@ironheartedfae SUMMARY: Ren isn’t the only one who went out searching for Gael. During their slow trek back to civilization, the duo rendezvous with Alex.  CONTENT WARNINGS: suicidal ideation

The journey home (strange as it was to still be able to call it that in his mind) was slow, much slower than it should’ve been. Ren had, no doubt, traveled much quicker and more efficiently on her own on her way to find him than the two of them were going now as they searched for Alex, to tell her that Gael was found alive, relatively unharmed and willing to come back; even if Alex had a working phone on her, Ren’s had been dead for several days and Gael didn’t even bother to bring one, his or otherwise.

The ‘relatively unharmed’ part was the part that held them up. While Gael no longer felt the residual ache of the full moon, a mixture of the guilt that had been devouring him and the subsequent willingness to die to atone for the crime he thought he committed ravaged his body; before Ren had found him, it’d been at least nine days since he’d eaten and the total number of hours he’d slept was much lower than it should’ve been. He was clumsy and uncoordinated, his muscles somewhat atrophic from lack of use and he didn’t want to but he made them stop several times, all of which Ren was more than accommodating towards. Of course, he felt bad about it now - he felt bad for a great many things now - but he couldn’t explain why his reaction had been so extreme even though it seemed simple in his mind: He thought he killed Regan. Was his own death worth hers, especially if he was the one that ended it without her permission? Gael didn’t know, just as until very recently he never once would’ve pegged himself as the type to give up so easily like that. He just knew that he caused Ren and Alex and Felix and Milo time, effort, worry… it was alarmingly easy to fall into such a negative feedback loop, something else he somehow always thought he was exempt from. This whole experience had been very humbling, if Gael had to spin it into a positive aside from ‘he literally owed Ren his life now’. So some time had passed and they had made progress, just not as much progress as they should’ve but even as they paused where they were, taking a breather for his sake, Gael knew that Alex would’ve found them much sooner than they would’ve found her - he didn’t doubt that she was just as good of a tracker as Ren was, but in different ways; she had those werewolf senses and while Gael’s nose wasn’t working (though honestly his own senses not working right just did him a favor at the point he was at), he was sure he positively reeked. He sat for a moment, leaning his scarred back against the stump of a tree, eyes closed and head craned upwards towards the sky.

“Any sign of her yet, Ren?” He asked, keeping his eyes closed but knowing that she was nearby, orbiting him like the perfect hunter she was, being very attentive to him while also keeping herself vigilant of their surroundings.

—

Caution was the name of the game. Perhaps more than they needed, definitely more than she would have afforded herself in the same situation. Ren hadn't really ever had to care for another person like this before. Every mission had always been solo. The ones that were observed were ones that the wardens who trained her would not have had a lick of trouble in dealing with. By sheer virtue of what she was made into, the nymph maybe wasn't ever supposed to care about anyone like this. 

What Ren was supposed to do had long since stopped driving her actions, especially around Gael. Careful eyes scanned every inch of the horizon. Anything more aggressive than a particularly sassy squirrel was either chased off or dealt with depending on how persistent it was. Every few minutes she'd dart back, doting on the man for a bit, supporting him if necessary, making sure he ate something or had a drink from the pack she carried. A bit like a nervous mother hen tending to her first brood. 

"There is disturbed earth off to West, campsite. Fresh. Buried ashes but still warm. She must be near." Ren had just done a loop around Gael's most recent resting place, but she was happy to be back by his side. "Are you still okay?" She fussed, as she had every time she returned from a short tour away, by checking each bit of exposed skin for suspicious bruises or scratches. As if the last ten minutes had a secret battle with a bear that she somehow missed. 

—

The camp Alex had set up had been something of an impromptu thing. She thought of staying in her more wolf-like form and sleeping on the grass as she did last full moon, but something in the goo made her uneasy not that she was sure her little collapsible tent that fit in her thru-hiking pack could really do anything to protect her from it. She supposed it was more for a sense of false security than anything else. If it helped her get even a wink of sleep so that she could keep up her search for Ren and Gael, she'd take it. Her thoughts easily fell on humor. The sight of a werewolf running through the woods on all fours with a large bag hanging from her jaws was a funny one. She might as well make some use of the supplies she'd pack other than just the back up pairs of clothes. 

Close to the camp, there was a little babbling brook. Alex had awoken with the sun and packed up her campsite to continue on her search. They smelled closer now. She'd collect some water from the stream nearby to put through the water filtration system in her pack and store in the bottles. When she found them, she was certain someone would need it. Gael had been braving the elements for over a week now and she was worried about the state Ren or herself would find him in. 

Part of Alex still feared finding their faces trapped in the goo. Every minute of sleep she'd managed during this excursion had been haunted by them turned to statues near a pine almost as much as Cass's with the damn goo in the cave. She hated this stuff, and it felt like there were traces of it everywhere, permeating through everything she once loved about this forest. 

It was a bitter thought, but it kept her moving forward. Alex couldn't let Gael or Ren become part of that stuff. She had to get home to make sure the same stayed true for Cass, too, who Alex wasn't sure she trusted to leave the cave if things truly got bad. 

Before she made a move to shift, Alex closed her eyes and listened around her. They were closer now, so close there was no use in shifting back into her werewolf form to catch up. Even if there was still some sense of pride in the new party trick, it'd be more comfortable for everyone involved if she didn't have to throw clothes back on behind a tree once she found them. 

So she followed and found her steps led her back towards her camp where she saw two figures in the distance. Ragged, but colorful. Ren's hair flashed brightly through the green leaves that were yellowing with the chill of autumn. Not encased in black mineral. Alex felt the relief flood her. 

“Gael! Ren!” 

She took off running with her hiking pack thudding heavily against her back as she did so. The thing was secondhand and admittedly meant for someone of larger stature than Alex would ever reach, but it didn't matter. They were safe. 

She stopped abruptly before them, studying them carefully. They reeked, but they were upright. Gael looked considerably worse for wear. Almost frail. It was jarring to see, but Alex could discern they would both be ok. Which gave way for the tension that had been bubbling under the surface to overflow. “What the hell,” she asked, her voice coming out tightly, “Where were you that last night? Why are you out here alone? You could have...“ She couldn't bring herself to say it and instead looked down at the ground.

—

It was odd, when he thought about it, how rapidly things could change. Gael was no stranger to change or adapting to overcome new obstacles, at least he was until quite recently. He had reached a rapid and silent decision to keep his comments to himself when it came to Ren hovering over him, asking if he was okay, checking him for any new marks or abrasions; after all the trouble he caused, the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel guilty or unjustified in her worry. Fortunately, nothing had happened that day, at least not that he was aware of and instead of lightly dismissing her concern, he opened his eyes slowly and glanced up at her with a soft smile. “I’m still okay.” He assured her, his brow furrowing as he started to get back to his feet; slow, graceless, still feeling his muscles drawing from a limited supply of energy, a symphony of cracking bones as he straightened his thinned limbs. As much as Gael wanted to, he had refrained from devouring everything he was given when she offered - he had read something about how in survival situations, you shouldn’t go from zero to full. Or something. He didn’t know, his brain was still catching up. Gael had barely pulled himself into a stand, still using the tree he previously leaned against for support as an anchor when he managed to hear a familiar voice. A hand subconsciously going to his stomach, the place where his hand had taken to resting in what he could only assume was a comforting gesture, the shifter turned slowly as his dark eyes fell upon the running figure of none other than Alex, with her fiery hair flowing behind her and a large backpack bouncing off of her shoulders. Immediately, that shame came flooding back into his system, the guilt that had nearly killed him before that he tried to smother now that he could reliably see and touch Ren, and with the knowledge that Regan was still alive, threatening to send him crashing back to the ground. People were out looking for him. People who didn’t know what he thought he did and still wanted to find him anyway. It was so aggravating, he knew, that he still felt guilty for this whole thing. It was irrational, but it still felt so tangible as it started to turn his stomach into knots again as Alex drew closer. In no time, the werewolf was on the two now and for a moment, as he could hear the tone in Alex’ voice, the questions she asked and the sentence she couldn’t finish, Gael bit his lower lip as he seemed to physically recoil from her approach. What could he say? What could’ve possibly justified why he was out there that still held up now that he had all of the information? “Alex, I…” His voice, thick with something indiscernible to himself and still somewhat rubbed raw, faltered and he looked from her down to the ground in submission. “I’m… sorry.” He felt his brow twitching as it knitted between his eyes. “I thought– I just…” The words didn’t seem to be coming to his mind, at least not nearly as reliably or confidently as he normally spoke. He didn’t have any excuses. No decent explanations, especially not one that he could seem to formulate coherently on the fly; as it turned out, he never actually thought about what he was going to say to Alex when they met again, considering he wasn’t really thinking he was going to meet anyone again. Gael didn’t look at either of the young girls now, feeling the chain harness starting to press on him once more, forcing him down. 

—

The nymph (who was still under the impression that any talk about the werewolfy-aspects Gael may or may not possess could lead to pain or worse) immediately jumped to a hackled defense as soon as any kind of talk of that night came up. Even if it was the very same concern that had the other girl asking, Ren puffed up and shook her head frantically in Alex's direction. "No! Mmnhnn! Please to be stopping this." The reunion should have been a lot smoother, a lot more joyous, but worry and a stunning leap of logic had more to say apparently.

"There is outside issue that must be resolved before this talk can occur! Sincerest of apologies but there is… fae thief to blame for... gaps in knowledge." Ren bit at her lip and stepped back. Retreating slightly behind Gael. Tugging slightly at the fabric of his shirt as she hid. As if he were a safety net between her and someone who she wasn't quite at the same level of comfort with as she was with the older werewolf. Ren was still a bit uneasy speaking on matters of the fair folk in front of anyone at all. But it was almost more so with her because Alex had assured the entomid how much she 'thought nymphs were so cool'. 

And that just didn't make any sense. 

Ren didn't even want to be a nymph. They weren't cool. Leather jackets were cool. Sunglasses and knives were cool. Science was cool. Werewolves… they were cool. A werewolf seemed a much better option. More sensible. Only a big issue three days out of a month, and even then it could be curbed. Directed into something positive. Something that could be shared. Though the relative coolness of the other's species was a sentiment Alex very much disagreed with. 

If only they could switch. 

"I–am gladdened to see you though, Alex. I was… worried when we were separated." If there was one thing the nymph could thank Gael for, (honestly there were actually so many things to choose from) it was that she had gotten a lot more open with speaking her mind. Good or bad. Ren even offered a somewhat lopsided and shy smile, just barely poking out from behind Gael's shoulder. 

—

The unfamiliar waver in Gael's voice softened something in her. Not that she was ever truly angry at the elder werewolf, not really. Alex was self aware enough to know that the anger was easier than fear or sadness or pre-emptive grief. It was an easy thread of emotion to hold on to when the others felt too heavy. 

But he was sorry and she faltered. Alex chewed at her bottom lip and looked him over. Gael looked like shit, he smelled like shit— she'd take a wager that he felt like shit. “It's okay,” she murmured, “You're safe now. We're together and safe. It's gonna be okay.“

Alex wasn't entirely sure if she was convincing him or herself, but before she could try to figure out just what had happened, Ren was speaking. She found her brows knitting together in confusion initially, but it clicked together. The fact he couldn't remember his full moons despite the fact he had been ”sleepwalking“ for so long, the way he could believe she was a werewolf, but couldn't seem to use the word for himself. 

”Oh,“ she uttered, her jaw slack with surprise. That was a problem that Alex wasn't exactly sure how to fix. Werewolf stuff, she could help with, but this was different. ”Can we... Is there a way to steal what was taken back? Or trade? I had a fae make a trade with me to get my friend's name back once.“ 

Problem-solving mode was easier than trying to acknowledge all the reasons she was afraid with someone who simply wouldn't be able to understand as it was. 

Alex looked around Gael to gaze at Ren. Her lips turned upwards in a sympathetic smile. ”I'm glad to see you too, Ren,“ she assured, ”It was pretty badass how you got over the goo like that.“ 

She couldn't see Ren well from her place behind Gael, even as she peered out. Alex wanted to see if she had been hurt even if she knew the blood on Gael had already turned her stomach sour. ”Were you hurt at all,” she asked, “I have supplies... You should both have water. I just filtered some. It's about a day's hike back to my cabin. We'll need our energy. Is anyone hungry? You two should eat something.“  

Alex moved toward a rock and checked for any critters. “Here,” she gestured, “Sit, Gael.” She went through the mental checklist of what she was supposed to do with shocked, lost hikers at the state park. She handed him one of the waters and a  couple of honey stinger chews from her pack. “Drink first, slowly so you don't make yourself sick. Then have a couple of these chews, they'll help get some calories in and be easy on your stomach to start.” 

She looked to Ren nervously, “I'm... not very good with blood. Do you know first aid? I have all the stuff, I just—” 

—

Before he had to explain himself any further, which Gael was more than willing to do once he could actually formulate the thoughts without breaking down into tears as he thought about what he thought he did, Ren had chimed in for him. Right… it was a fae, wasn’t it? It wasn’t that he was just too foolish or stupid to remember, it was something keeping him from remembering. He wondered if that would’ve helped at all or whether it really mattered once he could recall what he was or what he did. What… the thing inside of him did. That was another reason why he felt so much hesitancy as Alex initially confronted him. Gael felt similarly with Alan; there was that level of frustration when it came to talking about lycanthropy, he could tell. And whether or not he was being obstinate at first, with a comfortable and healthy willingness to believe that it was something else, that all seemed to change when he had the dream of the figure draped in shadow with something erupting from its side. Then the following month when he was sure he was attacked by a werewolf but the thought that he couldn’t become one because of how wrong it felt was so strong… Which led to now, as he stood there, swaying with the ghost of uncertainty wanting to push him over either by forcing a strong, chilly wind onto him or from the metaphorical weight of being unable to confront something, to look it in the eye and try to figure out what to do. He remained standing, however, and with Ren who had spoken for him now hiding behind him as though he’d be able to protect her from any potential wrath or even frustration from Alex. He could feel the grip of material in her hand tugging as her nerves overrode her so the least he could do was shield her, whether it was from Alex specifically, the rest of the world or even herself and the aspects of her history that haunted her. Fortunately, Alex seemed to soften, which elicited a quiet sigh of relief from Gael and he gave a noncommittal shrug when the young werewolf asked about whether or not it could be traded back. “It might be able to. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, it wasn’t… something that crossed my mind until…” Until things got too big to manage alone, he thought with shame. He exhaled thickly through his nose in a grunt as he felt his body starting to protest: ‘either start moving or sit back down’, it seemed to say. So when Alex suggested they take a seat, now that he was more settled with knowing that Alex wasn’t planning on giving him a lecture about his stupid decisions (at least, not at present; he’d have been able to handle it in a few weeks when he could look back on this whole fiasco and… try to laugh about how absurd he’d been), Gael nodded in agreement and slowly maneuvered himself so that he was able to sit down but turning in a way that Ren could still hide behind him until she felt comfortable enough to join the conversation without speaking through the dirty material of his shirt. “Good news; all of this blood is old.” He felt the need to explain first as he sat solidly with another grunt. “I was… being dumb yesterday and misstepped.” He motioned to an abrasion on his arm that had long since scabbed over. “I just… haven’t washed all of it off yet. Sorry.” That was the first apology but before he took any of Alex’ water, he leaned forward until his elbows were being supported on bony knees and clasped his calloused hands together nervously. “I’m… so sorry that I made you guys come out here to look for me.” He told himself he wasn’t going to get overemotional, not again, not when he felt like he’d already cried in front of so many people already - Regan, Felix, Ren… máma always said he was emotional but now as he felt his eyes welling with tears, he didn’t feel like that was a good thing. “I’m sorry for everything.” 

—

For all her confidence with tracking, or fighting, or spying, Ren had very very little wherever social situations arose. At the few parties she was invited to she took a back seat. Content to watch and observe and try and make sense of everything rather than interact. She was better, or at least she thought she was better, at one on one. A little while back she and Alex had a pretty nice day together, all things considered. They talked about bugs and the garden that the werewolf had set up and that should have made Ren more comfortable around her. 

Maybe it was the woods. Maybe it was the danger, the concern. This was an entirely new light to be perceived in and she wasn't so sure she liked it. Too close to the thing she was before. To the trained attack dog that none of the Allgoods would accept her as. The friend group started with a death. Would they be willing to look past the blood on her hands? Would Alex? The girl couldn't even look at the dried blood from a hiking mishap. 

(Part of Ren still took note of it as a potential way to distract or incapacitate her. A separate growing part resented those observations and the fact that she couldn't seem to stop making them.)

So she hid. Sat about as close to Gael as she could while still making herself useful by digging a fire pit. Like a toddler when a familiar stranger came by. Eyes cast downward as Alex started fussing in the same way she had been. That was good, in a sense. Gael deserved to know that more people cared about him but ah– that seemed to upset him too. The man apologized and Ren finally looked up. Brows knit close together as green eyes searched for something to say as if there would be a physical answer somewhere. 

"We–" Timid, a shaky voice on unsure footing. "We cannot change things of past. So we take steps to make tomorrow better, yes? You would have done same for us. It is fair and just." Paraphrasing and translating things in her head always twisted around the phrasing. As good as her memory was, something in language would always hold a barrier she couldn't fully cross. Ren looked to Alex, a pleading expression flashing across the nymph's features. Hoping the young werewolf would have something better, something more comforting to say. 

—

The uneasiness hadn't completely dissipated, but Alex was able to fall into the familiar routine of taking care of someone. She'd come up on plenty of lost and scared hikers before. They all needed water and food. Typically warmth too, but the fire would help there. Once he was cleaned off a bit, she could give him some thermal blankets too. The chill in the autumn air was especially biting in the higher elevations and shaded canopies of the forest. “It's ok, and it's old... that's, well not good, but better? I have something that can help with that,” she explained as she fished through the oversized bag yet again to pull out bathing wipes intended for camping. “Here. Wouldn't put them directly on an open wound. There's different wipes for that, but they'll help clean up any dried blood and dirt. Then I'll give you a thermal blanket to wrap up in.” 

Her eyes fell on Ren who was in arguably better shape, but still seemed small in her way. Alex looked her over carefully with a soft gaze. “And you weren't hurt,” she asked, “But it's still cold, here.” She gave Ren one of the silver thermal blankets. She wasn't sure how the entomid thing worked, but bugs preferred the warmth. 

“I appreciate you explaining things,” Alex whispered, “I'll... help how I can. We can talk once we're all home and figure it out.” She didn't want to cause Gael any further pain or confusion, but whatever was blocking his memory needed to be fixed. It was clearly tearing him apart and she wanted to fix it. 

Then the apology came and Alex shifted uncomfortably on her heels. It was strange, hearing an apology come from someone considerably older than her. By the cadence of his words and timber of his voice, she could tell the apology ran deeper than just what happened tonight. Ren had started on with some supportive words and Alex chimed in, “It's like you told me, mistakes happen. All that matters is that you're safe. We're all safe.“ 

She had the feeling that Gael would feel guilty if she or Ren had been hurt looking for him. Alex was familiar with the way guilt and self doubt could warp even the simplest situations. Having something stolen from him like that, something that effected his memory—- well, Alex could deduce that it left him with a fair share of self doubt. She could see it in the way he carried himself now and how it was different from a few months ago. Even when he didn't have a word for the sleepwalking or a pack to support him, he seemed steadier— confident and grounded. 

”And hey, I think I'm the last person that can fault running off,“ Alex laughed gently, ”Poor Kaden had to endure hours with Emilio when I ran off after getting shot. Sometimes... I think it feels safer for us out here. I don't know, there's probably something sage to be said about all that, but...“ 

She looked between them, ”The only thing that actually matters is we're all okay. Now we recoup, go home, and work to make things safer for all of us.” Everything she knew about fae had mostly come from Cass, so her knowledge wasn't extensive, but Ren knew this stuff. They had to be able to figure out a way to get back what was stolen from Gael. “We'll figure things out. Together.” 

—

He wasn’t sure why he was apologizing. It was probably the relapse, the tumult of emotions both foreign and not fitting. It was the guilt, it was how easily he was willing to isolate when he’d never done anything like that before. It was the age difference between them - he was Alex’ teacher and Ren’s… parent figure. He was too old to be so vulnerable to them; it wasn’t fair to them, especially those two girls specifically. He knew Ren had trouble processing and expressing herself and he knew that Alex’ relationship with being a werewolf was shaky even at the most stable of times. Gael couldn’t bring himself to explain that he was out in the woods on an abrupt, overwhelming death wish after thinking that he killed Regan when he was something else. The words “I thought I killed Regan” in of themselves were almost just as hard to say as the missing pieces in his brain. He didn’t kill Regan, and yet the thought that didn’t exist still clung to him like the parasite or condition or disease or whatever was inside him, thrashing around and ripping his insides apart. It was how he was starving yet he still didn’t want to eat anything, almost as though there was something in his mind still trying to punish him; it was almost that the sentence had turned from ‘you killed Regan’ to ‘you could’ve killed Regan’. It could’ve been anybody. It could’ve been anybody out in the woods with him and whatever the hell happened to him when he lost time. And he couldn’t remember. When Alan and Alex talked about it, it seemed so simple. His breath snagging on the phlegm that lingered in the back of his throat, Gael took the heels of his hands to his eyes again in an attempt to wipe the mist away, even forcing a cough of a chuckle to scrape from him when Alex made her light joke, even if being shot and thinking you murdered one of your friends without even realizing it weren’t remotely the same - Alex being shot simply for being what she was was the victim. Gael thought he was the criminal, thought that he could still be the criminal. “Right.” He nodded, swallowing thickly. “Mistakes… mistakes are made. And dwelling on the past is unhealthy; what’s important is that we’re here, we’re safe and we do what we can to make where we are now better.” Gael glanced between both girls gently as he addressed each of what they had to say, wisdom in their own right though he didn’t miss the parts where they were just giving him back what he’d lent them; once more, he didn’t think he himself would be the one they’d have to tell these things to. “I appreciate both of you coming to find me.” He finished cleaning the dirt and blood from himself and unfolded the blanket Alex had offered, only then realizing the chill that nipped the air and his skin. Figuring out what memory was missing… would that really help? Or would that just solidify the sour interpretation and relationship with whatever was inside Gael was? He supposed it was a step in the a direction, maybe even the right direction. Gael still felt a twinge of something miscommunicated or not being said correctly, which he blamed himself for but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Whether he was saying enough, too much, not enough. Usually he was so focused on replying to everything as it was said but he was too slow. So instead of saying anything else at first, he subconsciously reached over and gave Ren a single, gentle pat on the head before he scooted closer to her to share his body warmth with her. “I couldn’t ask for a better pair of trackers.” He smiled again, small, gaunt but genuine. “S–” He stopped himself from apologizing yet again. So instead, he shook his head and took a slow, but welcome drink of water.

—

Before long the fire was crackling. Ren had even dug a vent off to the side of the pit that siphoned away most the smoke. An old trick she used when trying to avoid detection, now served as the only way she knew how to make a fire. Bugs didn't care for smoke. Even the thin wispy remains of whatever hadn't been whisked away by physics the fae didn't fully understand was starting to make her sleepy. Docile. The exhaustion was starting to catch up with her. She hadn't exactly slept… pretty much the entire time she'd been out in the woods. 

If Gael had known, he might have felt worse. So Ren had decided to keep that little tidbit hidden as best she could. He had enough to worry about. Had a world that felt like it was crumbling more and more with each step. It wasn't the same circumstances, but Ren could relate. The foundation her life had been built upon was shaking and cracking more and more with each passing day. The main difference was the entomid was given loving arms to fall into, careful considerate people who explained the things she didn't understand in a way she could grasp. Unlike Gael, who must have felt like the only thing on the other side of the shattered sense of self was the void. 

Chill spread through her bones, and Ren welcomed the thermal blanket. A lot scratchier but also far warmer than the picnic blanket she had tucked in her rescue pack. Alex was a lot better at this. Made sense. She had said something about working with the rangers, (park ones, not hunter ones) helping those who got lost or injured. She was always trying to help people. Ren admired that. Saw it as one of the best qualities a person could have. It was the very same that drew her close to Gael too. Maybe she just had a magnet for magnanimous werewolves. 

Snuggled up close, sitting by the fire, it was almost…nice. Like one of their usual outings. They could almost ignore the heaviness that had brought them there. Strange, that someone else was with them. But if it was going to be anyone, Ren supposed Alex was probably best. A full head of scraggly red curls rested against Gael's shoulder. Soaking up the heat rather greedily as another apology threatened to surface. Once again, Ren wasn't sure what to say, only that she desperately wanted to help. 

"I believe things will get better. We will find one responsible, we will get you control back. I know you are not… a bad thing, sky guy." Her voice was quiet, but when wasn't it? However, there was an assuredness to it this time, like she was resolute in her determination that despite everything, the man still meant the world to her. "While…sleepwalking–you protected me from attacking cu-sith. Saved me. The–" A pause for careful, careful consideration of the phrasing. "Whatever it is, it can be good. It is good. You are good. You are still my–" Ren paused again, this time looking over to Alex before continuing. "Still our Gael." 

—

Sometimes Alex wished she was a bit less perceptive and could take words at face value. Then, she could pretend like their words had done something to comfort Gael and in all likelihood they probably had to an extent, but the heaviness that hung in the air wasn't something that dissipated. The weight clung to him and settled in his bones and the way his muscles seemed to almost slump as he sat—- given he had just spent so many days in the woods. It didn't look like he had much in the way of food or water. 

But it was more than that. Alex didn't push though. She couldn't when there was clearly parts of his own memory that weren't available to him. It'd be a tireless effort with no return. ”Of course,“ she answered gently, as if coming to find him had been something they'd so obviously do. 

”We are pretty great trackers,“ Alex smiled at Ren. ”I was impressed with Ren. She moves quick and she's resourceful.“ She hoped that did something to inspire some confidence in the entomid. While they hadn't spoken much of their lives before Wicked's Rest, she could gather that Ren's upbringing was far from typical with how much she was still learning about the human world. 

Alex began working at cans of chili to cook over the fire and pulled out her little camping pots. She carefully poured a few cans of chili into the pot and held it over the fire Ren had made. ”Good job on the fire,“ she said instinctively before glancing over at Gael. “She's right, you're still our Gael.” Her wrist flicked as she moved the chili around the pot. Alex gave them both a soft smile. ”Things will get better because we'll make them better. Together.“

[cuntwrap--supreme]

Something a little fucked about going to dinner with people who have told your mom that you're "not ok" and shit since you were 8 and them entirely ignoring you, instead leaning over to whisper to your brother that they needed to talk later (about me) when I'm quite literally directly across from him. He texted me saying his aunt wanted to discuss me later.

So they're all talking further down the table and at some point I interject and say, "Yeah, ha ha, I heard you had some questions about me. Where better to get that information than the horse's mouth?" And this woman - who pretends to be Cherokee to, like, get sympathy and Liz Warren'd her way into school saying she was Cherokee when she knew she wasn't, got whole scholarships meant for minorities because of it - looks to my mother and goes, "Girl, I think you need to control your thing down there." So I stood up and said I'd rather walk 14 miles home in the rain than be in the presence of such vacant, soulless ghouls for a moment longer, told this woman she can pay for my meal with her husband's money, and walked. My dad, one of my sisters, and her boyfriend came after me and said that was fucked and they weren't gonna sit there after that. My dad said he was going to walk with me if no one handed over their keys because it was either that or he was going to jail for murdering this woman. Said he looked at my mom and asked what her response to that was, and all she said was that I'm clearly mentally unwell. As if 1) that's not directly her fault and 2) that's grounds to let someone call me a thing and talk shit about me for decades.

Pretty sure your parents are supposed to have your back? So he said after that was her response he told her good luck with her bills, he's done supporting her 20 years after they got divorced. I've been telling him this is how she treats me since I was a child, but he's never seen it in action until tonight. Like, I'd be 10 or so and doing 10 year old shit and she'd make sure I knew it was a sign of being depraved to pretend you're a wizard for fun or some shit and that I was probably going to end up a whore for work because I have no value; meanwhile, she's smoking crack with her boyfriend all the fucking time, exposing me to that and domestic violence, forcing me to be an adult and protect my siblings from her and her boyfriend's drug use from 8 years old onward, and allowing her boyfriend to psychologically torture me because well I'm weird so i deserve it, etc! Wow! It's almost as if isolating people in their formative years and instead forcing them to deal with constant stresses such as "will my mom die the next time she's thrown bodily across the room?" and "what happens if DCS doesn't believe my mom's lies next time? Will I be placed in a home full of other troubled kids, but some of them will rape me?" and "I've been told no adults will believe me when I mentioned my home life and surprise! they don't!" isn't good for someone.

I'm irreparable. Yeah. Sure. You got me there. But I'll be fucking damned if I'm going to sit idly by as these people talk shit about me when I'm 5ft away. Last time they saw me they talked to my mother about how I need to be institutionalized for - get this - not being feminine. Apparently that's a mental disorder now! Sorry, afab people! You have to be traditionally feminine or you're mentally fucked! I don't make the rules! Some people who got rich by marrying scam artists do! Or they told my youngest sister to stop talking to me because I'll only drag her down with me. Whatever that means. As if I didn't fucking raise that child more than either of her parents ever did. As if I didn't protect her from her father when he'd get high and want something to strangle while tweaking out and chose infant her. I should have punched this vapid excuse for a human square in the nose.

I'm so sick of how these people have treated me forever and how no one has ever had the balls to stand up to them because they all have money and they want to mooch off of that. They've hated me from Day One because I don't suck up to them. As far back as I can remember, they've told me I should dye my hair blonde, do makeup, wear high heels and slutty clothes so I can find a "good man" who will take care of me, then call me a weird dyke when I say none of that sounds like a way to find a man I'd get along with.

[izzysarchivedblogs]

Setting Prompt -> Accepting // so what happens when things start to get fuzzy, when that tight grip of control and sense starts to loosen and that is a bad thing. what happens when you aren't sure what is happening. when you don't know it's happening. hey @infinitelycomplexpuzzles do you have an answer? it smells like trouble is afoot. -> 022, a gazebo while it's raining. for Greer and Kara?

The past couple of days there's felt like there was a ringing in her ears but thing were fine. William did not hear anything and she's asked about half a dozen people about that. She even called in to Avengers to hook her up with someone to check her hearing, since normal doctors would not have any idea what to do nor have access to notes on her physiology.

She was FINE. Nothing that could be figure out beside that maybe she had developed tinnitus, it was bound to happen one of these days. Greer thought it wasn't a totally stupid nor rhetorical question to ask, what superhero hasn't developed tinnitus given the things they put their bodies through.

It hadn't been there before though and not above all the noise she already had to filter out given her extremely heightened senses as it was. Greer, you put yourself through too much stress. A spa day was much needed and she could drop William off at someone's for the day. He's homeschooled by her, so it's not like they wouldn't make up the lost lessons another day and not like she doesn't spend way too much time with her son anyways. They could do with the break and she could do with the break from part-time hero work.

Thoughts like that were swept away under a rug about two weeks again and now odder things are happening. She's tasting feathers in her mouth. OKAY. That's not an unfamiliar taste.

That break from hero work does not go as she plans either. She ends up in Central Park; which she kept promising William she'd take him too. The Thunderbolts show up for that. UGH. The d-list baddie of the week can make copies of himself and Clint points out that she was being rougher than he remembers her to be. Well, that was before a lot of shit happened to her. He even has the audacity to point out that it was like when MODOK had gotten control of her and she was acting all feral again. Too aggressive.

FUCK. She can't be going feral again, could she? No. It's fine. You're fine.

Greer shies away when the cameras come out in the aftermath, actually needs to get away because technically they were the only sanctioned heroes in the city. It starts raining, interrupting the interviews, and people disperse.

Her stress levels go through the roof. She could handle rain, she could handle showers; her cat self needed to chill about this goddamn rain. Yet Greer finds herself camped out under one of the gazebos that everyone has shuffled to duck under from the rain as well. She finds herself to the point of almost hissing at the sky for running. Wait! That girl Kara was still around; couldn't she ask Clint's Thunderbolt teammate to just tell her she LIKED the rain so that she could go home without her hackles being raised?

❝ The weather forecaster sure didn't warn against rain or d-list villains hanging out in Central Park. Hey, tell me I like the rain so I can go home. ❞ The funny thing was that she didn't mind the rain, she even liked listening to the rain on sleepy afternoons. So what was her deal?

[quickdeaths]

@kirakiras

Kiyomi could think for days about what exactly was happening when the world froze around her and still never really get it. The raindrops were hung in the air like little crystals, undisturbed unless she stuck out her tongue to catch them. There was a salaryman at the bus stop, too, smoking a cigarette, and the smoke was coiled up at the end, unmoving. Yet, when Kiyomi clapped her hands, she could still hear the sound, even though she remembered something from science class about sound waves traveling.

Either way, she'd been standing around for five minutes (although, with her phone clock not updating, who knew, really) with time not starting back up, and even if that didn't affect what time she'd get home, or any of her other daily tasks, it was boring. At first, she'd tried to stay still when things froze, so that anyone looking near her wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary afterwards, but she'd since given it up. People were good at rationalizing things that were hard to explain. Or, maybe she was just getting too comfortable with all of this.

A few blocks from the bus stop, there was a girl in cute clothes on the sidewalk, standing - in Kiyomi's opinion - too close to the road when it was raining so hard. As far as she could tell, the girl was about to be punished for that decision, as a nearby cab was likely to run over a puddle and probable splash her. At one time, Kiyomi would have left that alone, but it was, maybe, another sign of how comfortable she was getting in this weird existence that she put her hands on the other girl's shoulders and began to tug her to the side, making sure to always keep her hands in places where she could say 'Sorry, I was trying to help' if time unfroze and not seem like a creep.

"It's a good thing some weird guy can't do this," she mumbled to herself, moving the other girl's leg so that she wouldn't immediately stumble. Letting go, she nodded as she made sure the position wasn't too unnatural, and then moved around to her side to walk her back. It was a lot of trouble to go through, but as someone who liked cute clothes herself, she knew that she'd hate if something like that outfit got soaked through by road water. Just a little further back would probably be fine.

Unfortunately for Kiyomi, she didn't have time for a little further back, as the sound of rain on the ground signaled time resuming its regular flow. One hand was still on the other girl's shoulder, as though she'd tugged her back from the edge of the sidewalk, and from where she was standing, Kiyomi could be thankful that, to the girl herself, it probably seemed like Kiyomi had just stepped over from somewhere else, instead of magically appeared in front of her vision. Of course, that was about all she could be thankful for, as the car driving over the puddle splattered water up on the sidewalk - the other girl and her outfit unharmed, but Kiyomi herself immediately drenched. "Pyuh!" Stumbling back, she let go of the girl's shoulder, both hands up and eyes closed as water dripped down the entire front side of her school uniform.