#I love how covered up she is; adding to the “war” feel

[icewindandboringhorror]

Lineup of all of the characters that appear long enough to need a visual representation of them in the game lol

[yourmidnightlover]

the sun

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: after the events of the snap, you find out news that's both heart wrenching and warming. what happens five years later when bucky's back?

warnings: death, mourning, pregnancy, childbirth, canon-typical violence (not much but just adding to cover all the bases), loosely based on end game and infinity war (as in ignore my mistakes lmaooo), if i failed to mention any warnings PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: dude idk why i've had an urge to write such heart wrenching angst lately. i'm actually in a decent place rn. i tried to cut this fic down bc originally it was SOOOO long i felt like a lot of it was just filler and i feel like shorter fics of mine tend to do better... ANYWHO! this does have a happy/hopeful ending so no worries! also picturing this beefcake for this story is AGHHHHHHH!

you never thought two lines on a stick could ever break your heart the way they did.

tears clouded your vision as you gripped the counter, trying not to crumble or succumb to your grief.

6 weeks ago, the avengers lost. everything.

half of the world, gone in a moment.

in one moment, your world collapsed. seeing bucky fade to dust right in front of you...

sobs wracked through your body as you crumbled to the ground.

this was supposed to be a happy moment. there should be tears of joy, not sobs of sorrow. your heart should feel full of love, not like there's a super-soldier sized hole in it.

"y/n," nat's voice rang outside the door, giving you a moment to yourself.

"just-," you tried to level your breathing before she opened the door, knowing but not understanding the grief you were feeling.

she wrapped her arms around your body, tucking your head into her neck as she gently rubbed your back soothingly. steve leaned against the bathroom door, glancing on the counter to see what they had all expected.

a positive pregnancy test.

you were having bucky's baby.

without bucky.

you gripped his dog tags that you had been wearing since the funeral. they were the only thing that could truly ground you.

they brought back happy memories of cuddling in bed, the cool metal shocking your skin for only a moment before realizing that it was only bucky and smiling at the memory.

god, it hadn't even been two months.

how were you supposed to do this alone?

"we're here for you," steve's voice called from the doorway, as if he could hear your thoughts. "you'll never be alone. not in this... not ever." he shook his head, his brows furrowed in a serious, straight line.

eventually, your sobs subsided. you stood with nat from your seat on the ground, wiping your own eyes mustering up a pathetic smile before she left you and steve to work out your grief together.

"we didn't even know it was possible," you shrugged. "it's like he sent me them..." you placed your hand on an invisible bump before facing steve, his teary eyes reminding you that he had lost his best friend, too. "he sent us this baby."

you reached your hand out for steve to hold. he took it gratefully and pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight and letting only a few tears slip his waterline before pulling back.

"if you'll let me, i want to be there for you for everything," his chin wobbled. "buck would kick my ass if i let you go through this alone." a genuine laugh left your lips for the first time in nearly two months.

"i would be so grateful for that," you nodded as you let go of his arms. "part of me still can't believe that it's real. it's like part of me still expects him to walk into the compound from a long mission or something..." you shook your head. "i know that sounds so stupid."

"it's not," he shook his head with a smile. "it's what i wish was true, maybe it's your subconscious trying to preserve your mind?"

"maybe," you shrugged before continuing, "i should probably talk to tony and bruce, huh?"

-

you knew you were around eight weeks along.

according to the doctors' tony had enlisted, however, you were already 12 weeks along, which was impossible.

bucky had been gone on a mission at that time... but it's whatever. you got to hear the heartbeat. steve went with you, too. you both bawled together. you kept three copies of the ultrasound and he kept two.

banner had already offered to do some testing on the dna of the baby, noting that the serum would likely affect the pregnancy (as it probably already has).

you had talked to tony about retiring from the whole superhero gig for the time being. you needed to mourn and prepare for a new life simultaneously. tony had promised to provide anything you needed at the drop of a hat, and he sure as hell delivered.

within no time, your pregnancy was being measured at 20 weeks while only being pregnant for 12. banner was concerned for your body's ability to keep up with the rapid rate of growth of the baby. he had you on a strict, hefty diet with two different prenatal vitamins in attempt to help your nutrition.

in spite of your best efforts, you were always exhausted and in pain. but you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. this was bucky's baby. you didn't care how much pain you went through when you had half of him growing inside of you.

you couldn't walk for long without feeling like passing out, which banner chalked up to low iron. steve had grown progressively more worried for you and the baby the longer the pregnancy went on.

as a result, he had moved into the spare room that was in your and bucky's house. truly, it just made it easier for him to help you finish up the nursery anyway.

he was very handy about it all, painting, building furniture from scratch, the whole deal.

"i've been thinking... and if it's a girl, i want to name her evangeline james barnes," you informed steve as you ate the steak he had been making for the past few weeks of your pregnancy, as ordered by dr. banner. that with carrots, broccoli, potatoes, and for dessert strawberries, blueberries and raspberries over ice cream. "and if it's a boy, cyrus james barnes. evangeline means good news, and cyrus means sun."

steve placed his hand over yours, "i think buck would've loved them." he smiled warmly as you downed the food in a few minutes.

you had begun showing soon after you found out you were pregnant, but now, it felt like it was impossible to hide. nat had been wonderful about helping you keep up with the changes your body was going through, getting you new maternity clothes every week.

she even made sure to get you every single craving that wasn't in accordance to banner's hefty diet. not that he didn't want you to eat more, he thought it was best you did! but he also wanted to make sure that with all that you did eat, your body got as many nutrients as possible.

just to be safe, he kept you on other vitamin supplements anyway.

you couldn't help but imagine what bucky would say or do about everything now.

he would hold your body closely, pressing firm kisses to your bump every chance he could get while whispering some sickly sweet sayings to your unborn child, words that would melt the winter soldier's cold exterior.

he would whisper words of encouragement any moment you felt worried about your abilities to be a mom. he would say how beautiful you were, in spite of being bloated in places you didn't know could bloat.

he would be wonderful, and in your mind, he was still alive and vibrant. well, as vibrant as bucky ever was, at least.

truthfully, that's the only way you were able to keep going on like this. steve was wonderful, but you couldn't help but want the love of your life by your side as you tried to navigate this new chapter.

in a couple more weeks, you were projected to be at 32 weeks. bruce and tony were talking with your doctors about the safety of inducing so early, both for you and the baby.

oh, and you wanted the gender to be a surprise.

and within the week, you were having your baby.

steve and nat were by your side during the birth, whispering encouraging words and compliments of your strength.

"i need him!" you screamed in pain as you held one of each of their hands, sobbing in agony. "i need james! i need my bucky! i can't do this alone, i can't-i can't!"

"you can," nat reminded you. "this baby needs you," she held your face to look at hers. "bucky is a part of this baby." you swore you could see tears in her eyes before turning to face steve.

"remember what you told me when you found out you were pregnant?" he didn't bother wiping the tears from his face. "bucky sent you-sent us this baby. he knows you can do it." you sniffled before nodding at your two best friends, pushing with one last scream and a second later, you had...

"cyrus james barnes," the nurse called to you. "it's a boy, congratulations mom."

-

the next few years went by quicker than you could've ever imagined.

crawling, first words, first steps...

you missed bucky. not a day passed where you didn't miss him.

but, having cy helped a lot. he looked just like his father. dark brown hair, icy blue eyes, a cute little nose... not to mention his father's stubbornness.

you made sure he knew who his father was. you took him to the museum often, showing him the statue of his father and his background in the world war, him saving the world so much. you told him how you fell in love with him.

how you fell for the quiet man before ever really talking to him. how you were partners on a long-term, undercover mission and that's where your love ignited from the sparks.

not that cy understood any of what you told him. you just felt it was important to know that his parents loved him, and each other dearly.

you never took off his dog tags, either.

steve was a huge help the whole time. he kept working for the avengers, so he was gone often, but he provided a good male role model for cyrus. after all, he was his uncle steve. he already taught him how to throw a ball, albeit a little softball, but it counts!

you made sure to document everything that went on in yours and cyrus's life.

banner had said that cyrus was growing at an exceeding rate, but nothing to be concerned about. in fact, cyrus was turning five in almost half a year, meaning the anniversary of bucky's death, or disappearance or whatever you called it, was coming up.

then, you got a call from tony and banner.

it all happened so quickly, from testing to planning to the execution. pepper watched cyrus for you while you went back with steve, scott, and tony to get the tesseract.

of course, the men being men had to come upon a few hiccups, but eventually, after going as far back as the 70s, you brought back the tesseract.

the only thing is that nat never came back...

next thing you know, bruce is snapping his fingers and clint is getting a call from his supposedly deceased wife. your eyes fill with tears, hands searching in your pockets for your phone to see if you've gotten anything yet.

is it possible he wasn't brought back? he was the first to... disintegrate. die. maybe that meant something in the eyes of the stones?

then, you felt a buzz in your hand.

although, you didn't have any time to try to grasp what that meant, because more aliens came to earth.

shocker.

after yet another war, one that you weren't even prepared for, after losing more people, again. after losing tony...

but amidst the chaos of the aftermath of the fight, with screams of joy and shock and grief surrounding you, tears streaming down your face, your eyes met the blue ones you only saw in your son.

he slowly walked towards you as the tears sped up. you didn't even realize when your feet began running towards him.

when his arms wrapped around your waist, you finally felt the home you thought you had come to terms with never feeling again. your arms wrapped around his neck, your face buried in his shoulder as you breathed in the scent of gunmetal that had overtaken him in the battle.

"oh my god," you cried into the leather of his jacket. he lifted you off the ground, your legs wrapping around his waist as you felt his smile on your cheek. "i can't believe you're really here."

"i'm here, doll," his hands cradled your head so tenderly. "i'm not ever leaving again. never."

you pulled back before your eyes widened in realization. "you've gotta meet someone, jamie."

his brows furrowed in confusion, just smiling and nodding along with whatever you said.

within the next few hours, simply being held by bucky before steve stole him away with a hug, you finally brought him home.

"so, steve moved in," you started as you pulled your car into the driveway, turning to see bucky looking at you with an incredulous look. "you'll see why." you reached to hold his hand before he brought yours to his lips, pressing a kiss there.

you told him to wait in the car as you went inside to relieve the babysitter for cyrus. after giving him some cash, he went outside, knocking on your car window to let bucky know he should make his way inside.

upon entering, he saw you sitting on the floor with a little boy with striking blue eyes that seemed so familiar to him. his nose, too. his lips though, they were all yours. he had a slight grin plastered on his lips, one that matched yours to a t.

"daddy?" suddenly, it all clicked.

his heart, his mind, his fucking soul, everything made sense now. the pain, hydra, the mind washing, the torture.

meeting you. falling in love. dying?

his son.

he started walking closer to bucky before the steady walk turned into a run. bucky knelt down, wrapping the boy in his arms, cradling his tiny frame in his arms protectively. his son.

"cyrus james barnes," you said with a teary smile on your face. bucky, without breaking the hug with his son, looked up at you with a smile that matched yours. "cyrus means 'sun', and i thought it was fitting. he brought me so much light and hope after you..." you choked up before he stood up with cy in his arms, walking towards you before wrapping you in the big, family hug.

"i love you so much, both of you."

[ericshoney]

Mean Prank ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: Your brothers ask you to be in a car video, only to prank you by being really mean.

Warnings: Usual swearing, being mean (for the prank), crying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nick, Matt and Chris were home in Boston for a while, which you were very happy about. They were there to help you with some school work and let you rant about stuff they would understand more than your parents. They were also there for you to joke around with.

Which resulted in a small prank war.

It started with you and Chris pranking Nick whilst he was asleep. You both put fake birds around his bedroom, much like the one Matt and Chris pranked him with in their earlier YouTube career.

Nick was pissed, so he wanted to get you back. This continued until all of you had something against the other. That was until you pranked all three of them at once. The guys then stepped up their game.

"So what's the prank?" Chris asked.

"We're gonna pretend to film a car video, she's been wanting to do one for a while, but we're going to be really mean to her to see how she reacts." Nick replied, reminding him on the prank.

"Will she get upset?" Matt questioned.

"We'll see if she notices it's a prank or not. If it goes too far we'll stop." Nick answered.

Matt and Chris both nodded as Nick went to find you. All of you then headed to the car, going to the guys usual car park to start the prank. You sat on your phone for a bit while they set up the camera and whilst you were distracted, it gave them the chance to start.

"Kid, get off your phone it's so rude." Chris started.

"I was waiting till we started to film." You mentioned, placing your phone down.

"The camera is all set." Matt said.

You nodded as Nick intro the video, you gave a small wave as he said you were here and what the topic was about.

"Today we have our little sister Y/n here! And today's topic, yes there is a topic, is about sibling fights and disagreements." He said.

"Will be fun." You said.

"Yeah cause you caused most of them." Matt mumbled.

"What?" You called.

"Well your the youngest, always thinking you can get your own way." He responded.

"Fuck off." You grumbled, a small smile on your face, thinking he was joking. Which he was, but held the laugh in for the prank.

"I remember when this motherfucker was born. I had a day planned with mum and she had to ruin it by being born early." Nick mentioned.

"You remember that one time she broke a Wii remote and tried to blame Trevor?" Chris called.

"Or that one time she stole your favourite hoodie and blamed Justin." Matt added.

"What is this, pick on Y/n video?" You called.

"Shut up." Nick replied.

The guys continued, their comments getting ruder and meaner. What broke you was Chris throwing an empty Pepsi can in the back, which hit your shoulder. You sighed and got out the car, walking across the car park.

"Kid get back in the car!" Matt shouted.

"No! Fuck off!" You shouted back.

The three shared a look, whilst also watching you. They noticed how you just went and sat by the store which was closed.

"We better tell her it's a prank." Chris said, making his brothers nod.

The three of them got out and came over to you quickly, Matt holding the camera. As they got closer, they noticed you were crying, but as you saw the camera, you covered it up.

"Sweetheart, it was a prank." Nick said softly.

"Real funny." You muttered.

"We're sorry kid, it's supposed to be a harmless prank. We didn't mean to hurt your feelings, we love you so much." Matt said.

“Why say all that stuff?” You asked quietly.

“We didn’t mean it, bub. It was all for a prank. We’re so sorry.” Chris said.

“We’ll make it up to you. Tomorrow we’ll take you out all day and do whatever you want, deal?” Nick suggested, holding his hand out. You smiled a bit and nodded, shaking his hand.

The guys smiled as they ended the video and you all went back to the car. Each of them saying sorry for the bad prank and knew they had to make it up to you.

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

These fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

A while ago I posted about how one of my favourite part of reading canon jily is when they're a bit older and Lily is looking back in retrospect. The part where James shows her how he gets that this war that's looming over them, it's bigger, older, than they are and even though the world feels like it's ending his top priority is that they remember to enjoy the happy moments. To live in those moments.

Jily has always been a hot cup of tea on a cold and rainy day for me. I hope these fics give you a short break from life, even if it's just for a moment.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries.

These first few fics are all by @gigglesandfreckles-hp. Abi's characterisation of Lily and James as individuals are so special to me. How she writes jily is perfect - I mean the banter, the tension, the overall dynamic between them is just on point!

basic maths

Euphemia cuts Sirius off sharply. “I was simply verifying whether this is indeed the same Lily Evans whose name is written under my dining room table with a heart around it.”

or: Lily meets the parents and James tries not to hyperventilate. over and over and over again.

we suffer in silence

"It's fine, Evans," James interrupts, waving off her apology and offering a reassuring smile. "You've always been an exception to the rule." A hint of warmth spreads through Lily at his words. "You've never liked rules." He chuckles softly, his lips quirking up in a lopsided grin. "Which is why I never had a difficult time liking you."

or: James has had a bad day and Lily gives her best go at cheering him up

I've already made a whole post about how much I love this fic with my favourite quotes and everything, but god please if you read anything today let it be Abi's jily fics because they are legendary.

star light, star bright

It's seventh year, somehow, that clinches the case, claiming the grand prize in the annals of Lily Evans's misfortunes. Because, as it turns out, harbouring feelings for James Potter while also navigating the precarious terrain of friendship with him is a fate crueller than death.

or: James keeps accidentally touching Lily and she's about to lose her mind

amenable parameters

“Truth or dare, Lil?” “Dare,” she replies without hesitation, leaning back into the worn leather booth. “Obviously.” Hestia’s eyes gleam. “Go snog Potter.”

or: lily gets brave and james's patience is rewarded

here lies

James can't hold his drink, or his affections

the start of (something) new

“Oh, really?” Petunia crosses her arms. “What’s his name then?”

Lily pauses here, but only for a moment as her mind flashes back to the field at Jubilee Gardens. “James,” she says confidently. “James Potter.”

TW: this fic does depict a slightly descriptive panic attack.

Lily you are so valid for looking. For those of you who've seen the AU rec list I just posted, please know that this fic is the reason why I added all those footballer!james fics (well this fic and the euros).

common ground

Lily pauses, suddenly aware of James’s intense gaze. “What? Why are you…” Heat rushes to her cheeks, and she hates it. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s just…it’s a good look on you, Evans.” “What is?” she asks, self-consciously. His grin widens. “Mischief.”

sidewalk chalk, covered in snow

She didn’t mean to get used to any of them.

or: Lily Evans is strictly anti-Marauders…until she isn't. one by one.

waiting for the light to take us in

James removes his glasses again. “Evans…” He searches for something to say and settles on, “You don’t even like flying.”

“I could like flying,” Lily says, shrugging. “I like you.”

He doesn’t take that bait in the way she wants, and her heart sinks just a bit more. Instead, he chews at his lip, considering and considering and considering some more. Lily wants to scream.

A reminder that even though it seems like others may have it harder, you deserve a break too.

Questions and Answers by lizardcookie (on ao3)

The simple question of whether or not they're dating doesn't exactly have a simple answer. Seventh Year Jily.

A Very Sick Dear by Nostalgicdragonfly (on ao3)

It's a very rare disease, but James gets it anyway and he has to endure the pain of having the favorite flower of the person he loves growing in his chest. He's been hiding his struggles. Lily loves roses yet James is the one getting cut by their thorns. But when a new healer arrives and things get out of hand, a lot would depend on whether or not James accepts his only treatment.

or James has hanahaki disease

Thank You For The Music by @thelighthousestale

Lily Evans is homesick during her first year of Hogwarts. Then she hears a familiar tune.

Erasmus Lovegoods’s Guide to Brewing Love Potions also by @ /thelighthousetale

At the start of every school year, the Ministry of Magic distributed leaflets to all students taking potions classes regarding the regulations and legality of highly controlled potions.

Lily Evans thought the Ministry would probably have more success in decreasing illegal potions brewing on the castle grounds if they didn’t give such detailed instructions about the potions in its published propaganda literature.

Of course, every year's most popular leaflet was the one warning about the dangers of brewing love potions.

Or how an accidental explosion in NEWT-level potions finally forced Lily and James to confront their feelings.

falling into place by @charmingwillow

Lily overhears something that maybe she shouldn't have.. things sort of happen from there.

Limbo by Random-Musings (on ff.net)

Lily's sour Hogsmeade weekend takes an unexpected turn.

The next few fics are all from it's about the Gazing collection by @firefeufuego. I recommend this collection to my friend who doesn’t read jily and the first fic alone had her texting me "I get why you love them so much and I also get why you want James Potter"

(get on out of your seat) all eyes on me

As James stops to catch his breath, he also catches Lily’s eye, already fixed on him in the blatant, unblinking way he hasn’t seen since she used to verbally eviscerate him for minutes on end. It hits with the same mortifying heat as it always did then, when he used to stand there watching her yell at him and imagine her mouth doing everything else. He’s ridiculously grateful for whoever throws the ball straight towards his face for saving him from the fate of just standing there, watching her watch him with his dry mouth open for the rest of eternity.

In a movement of pure reflex, he grabs the ball out of the air and starts back towards the end of the pitch before Orie comes out of nowhere and takes his legs out from under him. Winded and disoriented, James sighs at the universe’s rather unsubtle visual metaphor. Is it even worth getting up again when he just keeps falling and falling and falling for her?

(soft spoken in the dead of night) all eyes on you

Lily has watched him do this multiple times before and it’s just tea and it’s just James and there should be nothing special about this particular moment, except that the sight of him, the fact of him, is suddenly earth-shattering.

Something like nostalgia fills her in a flood, only it’s the future she’s longing for, a future she can see with absolute clarity. The features James inherited from his parents are so faithfully recreated on him that it’s easy to imagine him at their age, with a shock of white, still unfairly thick hair framing a face lined by a lifetime of laughter, making her a cup of tea exactly the way she likes it and smiling as she teases him.

Don't be fooled by the summery, this is pure self indulgent smut. I complain a lot about pretentious people but the Austen and Keats reference had me swooning. The myth of Eros and Psyche is probably one of my favorites so…

in the morning when i wake or the morning after

With trembling hands, James brings the smaller piece of parchment closer to his face and starts to read.

To the love of my life,

You idiot. Get back here.I’ll be in your room.

Lily.

Surface Pressure by @eastwindmlk

Lily dealing with the weight of her own expectations in 7th year

no, i could never give you peace by @kay-elle-cee

James blinks. “Are you breaking up with me, Evans?” he jokes softly, resting his hand on hers. It’s a joke, but her body tenses and it immediately puts him on edge. The silence that follows is excruciating.

“I’m not doing anything.” Her nails begin to tap on the mug again—a nervous habit that James spots immediately. “I just think we should have a conversation.”

Trust Kels to serve Order!jily angst and pair it with one of my favourite songs of all time

bury it and rise above by @startanewdream

"James? Do you believe in magic?"

Or Lily is a Witch. James is a Muggle. It's not easier.

When It's You by idreamofjily (on ao3)

James is naturally affectionate and Lily really isn't. But maybe she can make an exception, if the way her stomach drops every time James touches her is any indication.

desiderium by @missgryffin

Sometimes all it takes is champagne and a slow dance, and then there's no going back.

The Vow also by @ /missgryffin

When he was thirteen-going-on-fourteen, James Potter did something truly, unbelievably stupid. Now that he’s seventeen-going-on-eighteen, he has to deal with the consequences.

Accidental Magic also by @ /missgryffin

What else is there to do after confessing feelings in the middle of the night than spend a lazy Saturday in bed?

Are You Experienced? by @annabtg

James Potter decides to ask Lily Evans to a Muggle live music show. This noble mission, however, requires a series of steps he is entirely clueless about: from procuring the tickets to finding the correct outfit, and most importantly, to spending an evening with Lily Evans without making an absolute fool of himself.

Also including the gorgeous cover art by @constancezin

by the lake by @possessingtheproperspirit

james finds lily by the lake.

not in need of a knight by @thejilyship

“If they start something, I’m going to finish it.” James said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And if it ends with you in the hospital wing?” “What do you care?” “Do you really think I’d bother to argue with you so much if I didn’t care?” Lily said, breathing sharply through her teeth.

[neteyamyawne]

🫀— You Promised

༄ Pairing : Aged!up!Neteyam x Fem!pregnant!Reader

༄ Summary : You never thought about losing your mate, atleast not when you needed him the most in your vulnerable state.

༄ Warning : Angst! Lots and lots of angst, no comfort, crying, pregnancy, major death, depression, sadness, dying of a loved one and more sadness, maybe a smidge of fluff.

༄ Prompt : Holding their mate's (or child's) unconscious/dead body

༄ Word Count : 2.7k Proof read.

༄ Note : I love making you guys cry, idk why, I cry myself when I write this kind of stuff.

༄ Glossary : [Yawne] - Beloved, [Olo'eyktan] - Na'vi clans' leader, [Iknimaya] - Na've rite of passage, [tsahik] - Na'vi clans' spiritual leader, [Uthuru] - to seek refuge, [Paskalin] - sweet berry, [Skxwang] - moron.

◦ Angstmas || Masterlist

It was like any other normal day only if you were in your home and not in another strange clan that you've never known except for stories and political talks.

You lay on the soft woven mat, made by your mate just for you, a hand on your swollen stomach as the life growing inside moves at its own pace while you rest from the tiredness that comes with.

»»————-　𑁍　————-««

You and Neteyam mated right after he passed his Iknimaya, being the first in line to be the olo’eyktan and you to be his tsahik but it was all came crashing down when your father-in-law decided it was better to flee for the good of the clan and for the family as well.

It was the second month of your pregnancy when you had to leave your home forever, the strength of your mates arms held you up as you cried in his chest, hands shaking like a leaf as you watched Jake renounce his position as the Olo'eyktan to Terasem.

The tears in everyone's eyes, Neytiri’s sobs, Neteyam could only stroke the side of your head, pressing a kiss to your temple as he lead you to his Ikran “It'll be okay, Yawne, believe me, we'll be alright, I'll take care of you and our little one” he whispered comfortingly in your ear when you both mounted his Ikran and he placed you in front of him, your face towards him as he draped and covered you with his own shawl, he held you against his chest tightly before he took off with his family.

He had one hand on Seze’s reigns, controlling her moves through the air and the other on your back, under the shawl that was draped on your body, your face buried in his neck, your arms wrapped around his waist, so you could rest comfortably on the rough journey, he caressed patterns on your back as everyone flew more and more away from the forest until it was just the expanse of the water in front of them.

Neytiri kept glancing at her eldest son, pride blooming in her chest as she saw how much of gentleman her son is, the scene could only remind her of the time with Jake during the war, when they aligned all the clans, with a small smile she looked away, giving the couple some privacy as she moved closer to Jake's Ikran, bob, while running her hand through Tuk’s braids.

»»————-　𑁍　————-««

It took a week or more to reach the metkayina clan, Awa’atlu, they accepted your Uthuru, with much criticism and nagging, but they did, it wasn't the same since then, there was always a deep feeling in the back of your mind, reminding you, again and again that something is wrong or would go wrong.

Even now, 4 months later, as you rested in the mauri with Neytiri on the other side making dinner while the others were out for their lessons, as Neytiri didn't willingly wanted to take the lessons and would rather look after you because it wasn't recommended for you to start your swimming lessons yet, she was always there for you, no matter what.

Even then, it's only been a month or two since Quaritch started his search spree across all the water Na'vi clans for Jake, that was the one thing everyone was alert for after Tonowari gave us the news, you didn't want to keep that in mind, not in your condition, not when it added to your ever growing worry.

Neteyam came back later, seemingly happy to see you resting on the mat he made, and because he loved the beautiful curve on your belly, the sign that his little baby grew safe and sound, he also knew that you didn't like the ocean as much as the trees back home but it was doable, plus he would rather have his baby in a safe environment than a hostile one, which was the only reason he loved this place, for the sake of his family's safety was all he cared about.

On a good day, you'd join the group, watching them learn in the depths while you sat in the shallow waters laughing at their failed attempts until your stomach starts to hurt from laughing while clutching your bump or learning new things with them, even successfully befriending an Ilu and riding it safely that you could have options to move around Awa'atlu.

But on days like these, when your exhaustion hits a little too hard, he couldn't help but lay down behind your back and just wrap his arms around you and pull you into his warm hug.

You always knew it was him, by the way he'd kiss your neck gently, one large hand on your belly as he strokes it softly, his head nuzzled in the Crook of your neck “You know you don't have to pretend you're asleep when I'm right beside you, Paskalin” he whispered, hot breath lingering on the curve of it.

You chuckled at the tickling sensation, giving in after he catches you in your pretend sleep, once again for the upteenth time, turning around to face him while he strokes your cheek with his hand as the other caresses your belly, peppering your face with kisses as you giggled “Did you eat anything, Honey?” He asked in a whisper, picking up after his father to call you sweet human nicknames that he loved. Like father, like son.

He was disappointed when you shook your head “how many times have I told you to eat something every two hours? It's not good for the baby, yawne!” He whisper-yelled at you but the answer he got from you was just a chuckle “I wasn't hungry, Ma teyam, and i wasn't feeling well either, Now let it-” he just shook his head in disappointment “tsk tsk tsk, you should have told me or sa’nu, she would have-”

The sentence was left unspoken when the loud commotion and yelling was heard outside, the locals were screaming at something or someone and loud cries were heard, both you and Neteyam got up with Neytiri and made your way to the rage going on inside the supply tent.

Neteyam kept his arm around your waist as you entered the tent, shielding you from the hands that reached out to hit or hold you or him. He was surprised at the sudden uprise until he understood what was happening when he took in the gossip and looks he was getting and looked at his father who was trying to explain.

Ronal’s Tulkun, Roa, was found dead or rather murdered by the human, as well as her babe.

»»————-　𑁍　————-««

When Jake apologized and made his preposition on how to save the other Tulkuns from further harm, Neteyam saw Lo'ak running away from the crowd towards the diving edge, calling for his Ilu, immediately knowing what he was upto, he went behind him with you in tow after him.

“No way you're rolling out of here, baby brother” Neteyam said sternly as he walked in on Lo'ak strapping the saddle on the Ilu, Lo'ak halted, rolling his eyes at his brother in annoyance.

“I have to warn payakan about the pingers!” He snapped back but lowered his voice when he saw you behind Neteyam.

“No! you've gotta keep your skxwang ass here, you understand me?!” Neteyam said with a hint of annoyance lacing his, he didn't want another one of his brother's stupid mistakes to be blamed on him, not right now, not when he himself was about to be a father.

“Neteyam…Calm down” you whispered lightly, holding his arm back, you didn't want him to blow off on Lo'ak again, it could be done quietly and patiently.

Lo'ak on the other hand wanted to try and reason with him to let him go “he's an outcast, there's nobody to warn him but me”

Neteyam huffed, placing a hand on Lo'ak’s head, holding his brother in place “bro… why do you always have to make things so hard?”

Lo'ak hissed, flicking his brother's hand off his head in anger and defiance as his tone shifted to an aggressive one “No. You mean why can't I be the perfect son like you! The perfect little soldier! Who does everything right, has the perfect life and a perfect little mate and family! Well I'm not you! Okay?!” Neteyam sized him up and Lo'ak took a step back looking up at his brother and lowered his voice again “I'm not you..He's my brother! I'm going”

You were taken aback at that, you grabbed his arm making him face you as anger simmered in your eyes at what he just said “LO'AK!! What are you talking about?! He's your brother! Stop this right now! Is this how you talk to your brother?!”

Lo'ak skipped a look between you and Neteyam nervously as he took another step back but Neteyam stopped him by grabbing his arm tightly and forcing him to look “He's not your brother, skxwang! I am! And don't you dare talk like that again”

But Lo'ak was having none of it as he twisted his arm out of his grasp just when Tsireya, Ao'nung and Rotxo arrived giving Lo'ak a good distraction to dive into the water for his Ilu, Neteyam growled loudly before patting on Ao'nung’s chest “we have go behind him, he's going to payakan” he said urgently.

But something in your heart panged when he said that, a weird unease spreading to your chest again and you called out to him “teyam…please, don't go” you didn't know if it was stupid or not but you wanted to believe it “please, it doesn't feel right”

He looked back at you after he called his Ilu and came up to you quickly, cupping your cheek in his palm, stroking his thumb over your cheek, his other hand caressing your swollen belly, as he looked into your eyes intently, connecting your foreheads together and kissing your nose “Shh… I'll be right back, I promise, don't worry, I just have to put this Skxwang back in his place again” he whispered lovingly with a smirk, kissing your forehead one last time and giving your hand a tight squeeze before diving into the water with the others and following Lo'ak.

»»————-　𑁍　————-««

Your heart was pacing a mile per second, the feeling of dread getting worse when it was notified by Lo'ak that Payakan was marked by the humans and Neteyam was their with them, Almost half of the clan, including Ronal and Tonowari were gone to save them, but all you could think of was Neteyam.

Hours passed and the sun began to set, spreading an eerie red and orange hue throughout the sky, no news of anyone or anything, only the sight of the injured or fallen warriors broughton back to Awa'atlu filled your mind with nightmares you only prayed stayed in your dreams.

You placed a hand on your stomach, the feeling of your baby moving against your palm was enough to give you some courage to call your Ilu and riding over to the scene yourself following behind another group of Warriors who were sent back to help others.

»»————-　𑁍　————-««

The sight was a horror to take in as you sat on your ilu looking at the havoc the place was in, the ship sinking, fire ablaze on the water from the oil spill, the sky dusted in a amber color and dark smoke, as if matching the hell beneath on the water but your heart dropped when you saw the rock Island… with others gathered together around something.

Urging your ilu over to it, you climbed off of the creature before you saw a body lying on the rock and dread filled the pit of your stomach, the feet looked eerily familiar but you refused to think about it, it couldn't be… a cold shiver running down your spine, goosebumps spreading over your body as your breath hitched, before you could confirm your suspicions spider pulled you back, shaking his head, but that's all it took for your worst fear to come true, gears in your head turning as a scream erupted from your throat which ultimately caught everyone's attention in horror when they saw you, when you realized what you were looking at.

“NETEYAM!!!!! NO NO, GREAT MOTHER, PLEASE” you ran towards him but Neytiri stopped you, catching your body in her arms as your cries rang out for everyone to hear, thrashing in her arms as Jake came up to you “Shh look at me, look at me…” he whispered holding you back and not letting you see his body yet, placing his hands on your cheeks and forcing you to look at him as tears already ran down your cheeks.

“NO NO NO, NETEYAM, LET ME GO PLEASE!! please….” You sobbed as they held you back, Neytiri couldn't hold back either as she hugged you, your loss was far greater than any others, your knees gave out from the shock as they caught you once again before they let you go, knowing there was no denying it “It's going to okay, it's going be okay” Neytiri whispered desperately to calm you but nothing could soothe you in this moment.

Your heart almost stopped beating in your chest as you saw his lifeless body, crawling over to his side, with trembling hands as you touched his chest that was now covered in his blood, cold lifeless eyes staring up at the sky, as sobs wrecked your body, crying over your mate, who promised you he'd come back, who promised to spend the eternity together, now gone, forever.

Kneeling beside him as your wails of despair shook the heart of great mother herself, shaking your head in disbelief, as you held his limp hand in yours, only if he listened to you, only if he stayed back!

Your head laid on his chest, like the thousands of times before where he caressed your hair, as he hummed a sweet melody for you so you could sleep peacefully in his arms, listening to his heartbeat as you fell asleep, was cold, quiet and unmoving, as if the once alive, beating heart, never existed, you sobbed on his chest, blood coating the side of your face but you didn't care, holding his hand as if he would wake up and smile saying this was all just a dream and he was there with you, like he said.

Lo'ak placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort you but it only fueled your anger towards himas you snarled at him viciously and everyone was taken aback “DO NOT TOUCH ME, STAY AWAY! ONLY IF YOU EVER DID AS YOU WERE TOLD TO THIS WOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED, LO'AK!”

Your anger was justified and no one dared to stop you or invented in between, Your screams hit him like bullets as he didn't say a word, stepping back as you turned back to look at Neteyam's face, still unable to register the fact that he's gone and would never come back to you or your child ever again and your weren't ready to face it just yet.

“Teyam, please… you promised, right? you promised you'd come back to us, please, you can't do this to me, teyam… I can't do this without you, you promised to be there with me, to hold our baby, to hold my hand, you can't do this to me please, we- we…” you couldn't even form words anymore as more tears streamed down your cheeks, breaking down to the point of no return as your cries rang through everyone's ears.

They all couldn't handle to see your desperate attempts and cries to get him back, in hopes to get you back, begging any greater force would listen to give him back, their hearts breaking even more as they saw you placing his hand on your stomach one last time as you broke down completely, your head placed on his chest, watching the horrific sight of a mate mourning over her other half as their symbol of love grew inside her.

You closed your eyes and held him close one last time, holding his hand one last time, laying your head on his chest one last time, his hand on your stomach to feel his child for one last time as he still watched the darkening sky unmoving “you promised…”

Ho Ho Ho : @cryinginthemoonpool, @luvv4j4ybe11, @xylianasblog, @plooto, @itchaboi-itchyboy, @pandoraslxna, @taylormarieee, @thewiltedpeony, @neteyamswillow, @danniackerman, @hotdsworld, @zafrinaxyz, @xstarsdiary, @moondaisye, @puddle-nerd, @eywxveng, @minnory, @neteyamssyulang, @tavsianus, @ele-sme.

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[queer-ragnelle]

Why do you hate the Once and Future Knight? I decided not to pick up the book because of personal preference but I’d love to hear your rant on it

Hi anon!

I’m assuming you mean The Once and Future King by TH White?

There’s nothing I could say that hasn’t already been said before I’m sure. But I didn’t read the series until I had already read many other Arthurian tales and I really don’t understand the love the series gets. The negatives don’t outweigh the positives, and worse, the lasting impact of TH White’s characterization choices on subsequent retellings is a stain on the literary tradition that set us back too far to comprehend. Putting my rant below a cut because I went off and the subject matter is disgusting.

First and foremost, the bigotry is astounding. The racism, the misogyny, the ableism and every other prejudice and cruelty you can think of are staggering in their variety and magnitude. It’s vile. It’s inexcusable. I don’t read modern Arthurian retellings to be bombarded with that in every single chapter. TOAFK is not “a product of its time.” It’s a product of a deeply unhappy and hateful man. Plenty of earlier writing is vastly kinder to Palomides and Guinevere and Morgause and Mordred and Lancelot or any other character unlucky enough to be depicted by TH White. Literally the Medieval source material is more nuanced than that. Morgause get behind me.

Secondly, the anachronism is an annoying stylistic choice at best and yet another tool for bigotry at worst. Why are Mordred and Agravaine likened to Nazis? Like seriously what the hell? It’s not enough for them to be antagonists, the text has to invoke the Holocaust? It’s so extreme it rips the reader right out of the story and calls to mind the most horrific parts of history for no narrative benefit whatsoever. Baffling and bad.

Thirdly, the prose just kinda sucks. It’s rambling and TH White will pause the narrative to stand on a soap box to talk at the reader about his views. He’s anti-war. Fine. But of all characters to use as a mouthpiece—King Arthur? The warlord King Arthur? Make it make sense.

Fourth, most tragically of all, so much of what TH White did in his series is reflected in stories told to this day. Every other retelling has a cover quote comparing it to TOAFK. (It’s supposed to be a compliment!) To put it in perspective…

You ever read a retelling with evil neglectful parent and rapist Morgause/Morgan? TH White’s fault.

How about added incest between one of the Orkney bros and their mother (which sometimes results in someone other than Gaheris killing her, say, Agravaine or Mordred)? Thanks, TH White, that’s just what Arthurian Legend was missing, more incest.

Ever see disabled, crippled, bad seed Mordred? TH White started that trend.

What about Guinevere assaulting Lancelot when she learns about Elaine getting him drunk and raping him? TH White really said “Lol what if Guinevere hits Lancelot and spits in his face while he’s crying?”

And the racism! TH White walked so Thomas Berger could run (derogatory). Discussions of race are so intense and so frequent and so random like one minute the narrator has paused the plot to talk about how war is bad and now it’s slandering Native Americans? Brother this is Medieval England what is even happening right now? Oh, look, another N bomb. The antisemitism! Weren’t you just comparing Mordred to Hitler? What do you mean the Orcadian/Scottish characters are evil because of *checks notes* “the incalculable miasma which is the leading feature of the Gaelic brain?” [Queen of Air and Darkness chapter 5] Thanks TH White for stripping Lot, Morgause, Gawain, Agravaine, Gaheris, Gareth, and Mordred of all nuance, a condition from which they have, literally, never recovered. Of course there are some retellings since that write one or two of them with a crumb of nuance, but they’ll never be like they were in the Vulgate. Not all at the same time. I feel sick.

It goes on and on. I have to stop listing examples or I’ll get pissed off. But frankly, more people should be pissed off about it! I’m tired of seeing five star reviews on storygraph and goodreads accompanied by a review excusing the most bigoted garbage I have ever read in a children’s book. It’s vile and everyone should feel bad about defending it. It’s inexcusable. This wasn’t a case of good-intentioned inclusion with dated language, this was an author going out of his way to be hateful. Period.

Big names in the fantasy book community like Daniel Greene should not be awarding five stars and leaving an uncritical review.

Far too many readers acknowledge the racism and then rate it five stars anyway. Go to Hell, Spencer.

Here’s some from storygraph with, of course, praise for Marion Zimmer-Bradley’s pedophilic power fantasy Mists of Avalon, another piece of hot festering sludge everyone should stop talking about. Kill the legacy already. The real life victims have suffered enough.

There also seems to be a trend in these reviews that excuse the texts bigotry by referring to how “old” it is. Which is crazy to me for many reasons. TOAFK in its final form was published in 1958. That wasn’t that long ago. Also racism has always been racism, misogyny has always been misogyny, ableism has ways been ableism. Plenty of authors came before this and really make TH White look like a clown.

Let’s promote them. In reverse!

John Steinbeck wrote The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights in 1956 (published posthumously in the 70s, don’t go by that date). His depictions of Morgan and Guinevere are nuanced and fascinating, not to mention some original characters including an old granny who teaches Owain to be a warrior! This book also has a morally gray sun-powered Gawain without insulting his heritage, an emotional and thought-provoking Lancelot without marking his sin with a facial deformity, and a really sweet Marhalt who doesn’t often get much spotlight!

John Erskine wrote Restoring Palamede in 1932. He does exactly what the cover says, and writes a story about the Muslim knight Palomides beginning in his own country, living with his parents whom are both named, and follows him as he learns the ways of the world and finds an ally in his friend Brangaine! Tristan and Isolde are compelling here and while Tristan can still be a jerk to Palomides, it’s not the mask-off bigotry we’ve seen…elsewhere.

Howard Pyle wrote one, two, three, four books between 1903-1910. Two thumbs up from me. No notes. He drank his respect women juice, drew them with loving care, named so many previously unknown, and gave them voices. He was kind in his portrayal to Palomides and even some other knights of color from India. Morgause survives the narrative! We love to see it!!!

Henry Newbolt wrote Mordred: A Tragedy in 1895. A fascinating examination of family ties, all five Orkney brothers here AND their wives Lyonors, Lynette, and Laurel! (Minus Ragnelle bc life is unfair.) Guinevere and Lancelot are tragic and heart wrenching. Arthur struggles against his son Mordred and their destiny in a way that doesn’t outright demonize either side. It will rewire your brain.

Richard Hovey wrote his poetry between 1891-1900. A complex and interesting Guinevere and Elaine who are not enemies, Lancelot close with Galehaut during the war, destroyed by his torn loyalties between Arthur and Guinevere, Gawain who loves his friend Lancelot with all his heart, and so much more without tearing anyone down!

Oscar Fay Adams wrote his poetry between 1886-1906. Here we get a wide variety of character focus, with title-featured names from King Lot to Dagonet to Lamorak to Lionel. Each one is more fascinating and nuanced and fresh than the last, from a tour of Lot’s castle and meeting each inhabitant to Lamorak on Grail Quest learning to forgive himself from “sweet” Sagramore.

William Morris wrote his poetry between 1856-1910. All of it is on the Camelot Project but I also have this scanned book. Here we delve into Guinevere’s trial as she calls out those who have wronged her, lonely Galahad on Grail Quest relating to his father Lancelot and praising Palomides in his steadfast hunt of the Questing Beast, there’s even a poem named for Palomides himself!!!

Anonymous wrote Moriaen in the 13th century. It follows Aglovale’s illegitimate son Moriaen, who is of African descent. As he travels around Britain looking for his father, Moriaen meets many people who are afraid of his dark skin. BUT! All the Knights of the Round Table leap to his defense, even threatening townsfolk who try to demonize Moriaen for the way he looks and refuse him service. It is, essentially, an anti-racism story from the Medieval era. Not to mention healer Gawain’s care and attention given to the sick and disabled. That’s not even the moral/focus of the story so much as Moriaen’s journey, but it’s there and worth mentioning.

So here we are with a whole list of stuff to read that predates TOAFK and surpasses it. The last one is only sort of a joke. But it’s there to make a point about how inexcusable TH White’s racism really is. If Anonymous could give a black knight like Moriaen the narrative respect he’s entitled to for existing as a representation of real human beings that look like him, then TH White was capable of it too. Progress is not linear. This is not to say Medieval times were “better” than society today. But to write off any problematic story of the recent past as “a product of its time” as an excuse to make oneself feel better about liking it, well, I don’t know what to say. Maybe reflect on that. And while that marinates, read something else.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

could you possibly write something about the kamado siblings and giyuu after the war? (but especially tanjiro)

i personally headcanon that giyuu is forcefully adopted by the kamado siblings afterwards and they call him their big brother lol

it's revealed that nezuko repaired giyuu's haori and visited him each day he was unconscious to call him back, and just imagine nezuko properly greeting giyuu as a human??? and giyuu definitely would have been at tanjiro's bedside as soon as he was able to and be one of the first people tanjiro saw as he woke up- i need them to hug and for giyuu to admit it's nice to care for others and to be cared for ;lkadjf;aijouha;fkj;lajdf;lafjklah;h;

tanjiro always being the older brother but now having someone to lean on ;ad;lafj;odiuwehrj;lj;lkaj;dlfhoeiwhfkja

sorry giyuu and tanjiro brainrot has taken over recently

the rq is so cute 😞 i love you for thisthe ask itself screams spoilers so i don't think i need warningsbtw. this gave me a lil motivation boost so thank you<3 (I also got carried away with this HELP)

The first thing Giyuu said when he woke up was—"Where's Tanjiro?"

Nezuko was by his side when he came to and for a moment he had to gather his bearings. It took him only a couple seconds but in his mind it was too much; he was wasting time and energy that he would need to save for later, his reaction timing was too slow. Then he remembered vaguely, through the pounding in his head, the demonic eyes of Tanjiro's. Memories instantly flooded him and he jolted up, ignoring the blood that rushed to his head as he turned to Nezuko, eyes wide and frantic. "Wh- Where's Tanjiro? Is he okay? Why are you here?"

The questions poured out of him one after the other as he worried that Nezuko was only here because Tanjiro was gone, because in the end their efforts had been futile, because-

Nezuko smiled gently at him. "He's sleeping."

Her voice was like nectar and instantly calmed Giyuu. It hit him then that he had never truly heard her voice before and he took her in now, feeling himself relax further as he noticed her eyes were back to normal, resembling Tanjiro's in a way.

"Oh. Has he woken?"

"No, but Aoi says he might, soon. He's still injured, even though he turned into a demon and healed, so he's been in a coma for a bit. He'll wake," Nezuko explained. She gazed at Giyuu. "I should tell Aoi you woke up. She'll want to check you over."

"Okay," Giyuu murmured. Absentmindedly, he went to fidget with the blanket only to realize that one of his arms were gone. He frowned at it, prodding the sleeve that dangled uselessly past his upper arm. It felt weird, as if his senses had been abruptly stopped. He let out a breath, turning his attention back up as Nezuko stood and went to the door to call for Aoi. He looked around, realizing he was in one of the rooms with multiple beds. They didn't seem to be all occupied but he noticed one or two to his left with patients. The one closest to him he recognized by the tufts of white hair that potruded from the blankets. It was Sanemi, who looked fast asleep.

Aoi entered the room briskly, her expression tense until she laid eyes on Giyuu, relief flooding her face. "Ah, good, you're awake," she breathed, as if she hadn't believed Nezuko. "Tell me how you feel."

And so the rest of the day went by quite peacefully, despite the dizzying number of tests and medicines he was put on. He was updated as well on the current state of things, which was basically just the Kakushi scrambling for their cover story about a sinkhole, the Ubuyashiki's having graves made for each and every one of the fallen slayers, burying those they could and commemorating them all. Aoi had been working practically non stop since the war, being in charge of healing the ones who could be saved. Tengen and some of the people from Wisteria Houses had been at aid, but it had been a lot for the young girl, especially with having to deal with the loss of Shinobu as well. But overall, everything was going quite well and as the sun started to set, dinner was delivered to Giyuu on a tray, resting on his lap as he and Nezuko made mindless chatter. Nezuko had eaten earlier after helping Aoi cook and now, as Giyuu grew accustumed to using his non-dominant hand, she pulled out a small sewing kit. Then, to Giyuu's surprise, she got out his haori which was folded, a needle stuck in one part so it wouldn't be lost.

"Wha- My haori? I thought it was... I thought it was practically gone...?" he said quietly. He recalled how it had been quite tattered, mostly covered in blood and barely hanging from his shoulders. He watched now as she unfolded it and placed it methodically on her lap, adjusting the needle in her grip.

"It was. But Aoi managed to get me more fabric and I'm trying to fix it," Nezuko hummed, pushing the needle into the haori, red thread trailing behind it. "I used to mend our clothing back before I turned into a demon, so I was hoping I could do something."

"Oh." Giyuu's eyes were trained on her hand, watching it as it moved in practiced, undulating movements, pushing the needle in and out as she continued. "Thank you..."

She looked up, tilting her head. "You don't have to thank me. In a way, this is my thank you to you."

"For what?"

She thought about this for a moment, pausing her sewing. "For everything."

Giyuu frowned, busying himself with spooning soup into his mouth. "Everything?"

"You helped us from the very beginning, both by stopping me from harming Tanjiro and from sparing my life, too. You protected us from the other Hashira when they were against us and I heard you helped Tanjiro a lot during the fight with Muzan. You did so much more than even that, and I'm sure Tanjiro would want me to do whatever I could to pay you back for that. Expect a lot of thank you's from him, too," she said with a gentle laugh. She went back to sewing and Giyuu gazed at her, mulling over this. He found that she no longer seemed as much of a child as she did before, or even just from a couple days prior the war. He wished, really, that he had managed to shield them from everything. But he supposed as long as they were both alive, it was okay.

He finished his dinner and Aoi came back to collect his tray, instructing him to sleep because he had had much more of an eventful day than he should've having just awoken after two weeks.

He spent most of the following days in bed or supported by others until Aoi decided he was allowed to walk around. Naturally, he made his way instantly to Tanjiro's room, finding a chair and sitting by him. Nezuko sat next to Giyuu, working diligently on the haori, which she was nearly done with. Mostly, it was quiet, both either preoccupied or having nothing to say. From time to time, they made small talk but it usually died out quickly as Giyuu still found himself unaccustumed to having someone to talk to and ended up answering with short, almost curt responses. Nevertheless, they were able to pass the time for the days that continued up until Tanjiro awoke with a startled gasp, much more abrupt than Giyuu's awakening.

Of course, both Giyuu and Nezuko flinched at the sudden sharp intake in the quiet room. But they realized where it had originated quickly and instantly reacted: Nezuko, dropping the haori onto Tanjiro's bed and standing to hug her brother and Giyuu, calling out to Aoi before turning back to the boy and joining the embrace without a thought. Despite the reassurances that Tanjiro would be fine, both had been worried sick at Tanjiro's seeming reluctance to wake up and relief flooded their expressions—along with tears, although Giyuu managed to rein them in—as they pulled back.

Tanjiro looked mostly confused, really. But he was well, to say the least. Certainly, he looked pale, but he had for the past few weeks anyway so that was nothing new. He was struggling to sit up now, trying to make sense of everything—no doubt his head was very muddled, having just awoken after a month's worth of slumber. Eventually, they had to help him up as the arm he had regenerated as a demon was unable to do much. He sat there for a moment, blinking slowly. Then he turned first to Nezuko, then Giyuu, a slow and, curiously, relieved smile breaking through. "I'm glad you're okay..." he said quietly. His voice was fragmented and hoarse and worse for wear—but it was his, he was talking! And it brought the other two to near tears once again, although they both managed to get ahold of themselves for his sake.

"We were kinda worried; Aoi said you would be fine but you've been asleep for, like, a month, now!" Nezuko whined, slumping down on the bed, then yelping and removing her needlework quickly before it pricked her anymore.

Tanjiro fretted over her, confirming she wasn't badly injured despite having just resurfaced from a coma. He seemed unconcerned for himself, really. He turned to Giyuu, frowning momentarily at the obvious loss of a limb. "You two aren't hurting, right? I don't remember too much yet, my head is a bit... misty?" he suggested, using his good arm to rub furiously at his temple, mussing his hair further.

Nezuko laughed, somewhat hysterically, reaching up to fix his hair back in place. "Don't worry about us, we're doing great. Giyuu-san's almost completely up for leaving the Estate and my injuries were light," she assured him. "Worry about yourself, for once."

Tanjiro pouted. "But-" Then he paused, realizing something. "Oh. Oh, Nezuko, I hurt you when I was a demon, right? I'm so sorry- I hurt you too, Giyuu-san, I'm sure. I'm sorry, I'm-"

Giyuu spoke now, having felt before that he would be intruding in the other two's moment (even when they mentioned him). "Don't be sorry," he said firmly, gaze fixated on Tanjiro. "You were a demon and Muzan directly gave you his powers, somehow. You did very well in resisting a lot of the instincts that typically surface for demons, which is probably the only reason we're talking now. You had no control over the other things then, really, but I think you were somehow minimizing your attack's full capacity on Nezuko as a demon, or even not hurting her at all."

There was a moment of silence, punctured only by Nezuko's agreement. Then Tanjiro caved, apparently too tired to try and argue. "I still hope anything I did wasn't very lasting," he mumbled, dipping his head down.

"Hey!" Nezuko huffed, flicking his forehead. "He just said you don't have to say sorry, so don't! We're all better now, and that's what matters, right?"

Tanjiro nodded reluctantly, although mostly to please his sister. "Fine," he conceded. "So you're both better?"

They nodded in unison and he brightened again. Then Aoi arrived and both Nezuko and Giyuu were ushered away so she could check on Tanjiro. The next day, Giyuu was finally let out. Sanemi was having some final check ups but both Hashira were informed of some meeting with Kiriya in a couple days. Despite being allowed to leave, Giyuu intended to stay and help around as much he could, knowing that Aoi had a lot on her shoulders and also just wanting to watch over Tanjiro.

Though Aoi insisted he needn't stay, it ended up being a good thing he had because apparently Tanjiro was going through a mountain load of guilt—which, he supposed, wasn't inevitable, but it pained him to see the boy so anxious. Of course, Tanjiro did little to tell him any of his worries and it wasn't until Giyuu had been getting water at night when he passed by Tanijro's door and heard the muffled, yet unmistakable sounds of crying. He abandoned his need for water and slowly opened the door, peeking into the room. It was dark but the faint moonlight that seeped through the window's curtains was enough for Giyuu to see the sillhouette of the boy, hunched over in bed. Upon hearing the creaking of the door, Tanjiro jolted, snapping his head up to meet Giyuu's eyes.

"Eh- Giyuu-san?" he asked, reaching up to rub his eyes though no doubt Giyuu wouldn't have been able to tell he was crying in the darkness.

Giyuu made his way towards him, sitting on the side of the bed. "What happened?" he asked, clear concern decipherable in his tone.

"Nothing, nothing! I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Tanjiro fretted. His voice was hoarse and Giyuu's worry increased. He must've been crying for a while.

"You didn't wake me, I was getting water. Are you okay?" Giyuu said, reaching up to pat him, then thinking better of it and retracting his hand.

"I'm- I'm fine, it's fine. You should go sleep, it's late," Tanjiro said, tugging the blankets up. "Please, I'm alright."

Giyuu shook his head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Tanjiro paused, then mumbled a quiet, "not really..."

"It's okay. I can just sit here with you," Giyuu suggested, scooting closer.

"Okay." Tanjiro moved over a bit, letting Giyuu under the blanket. The bed was small but they managed to find a way to sit side by side. Tanjiro rested his head against Giyuu's shoulder, drawing swirls absentmindedly on the blanket. They sat like this for a while, the only sound being their breaths and the occasional hiccup in the quiet comfort of the room. Then Tanjiro spoke, his voice quivering and meek, so unlike his usual self that Giyuu's arm wrapped instinctively around him.

"I feel like I should've done more," Tanjiro murmured. "Fought harder against Muzan. Nezuko and Aoi told me about all the Hashira who had died and the estimated count of people in total who were lost. And I know I wasn't present where a lot of them died, but in the places I was there... At the very least, I could've saved your arm..."

Giyuu understood him completely. It would be a lie to say he hadn't been going through everything time and time again in his head, noting each place he could've done something different and saved someone. But Nezuko had been so constantly by his side, supporting him without even realizing it. And caring for Tanjiro had kept his mind occupied, allowing him to appreciate the people he was able to save than focus on those he had lost. So he told Tanjiro this now, letting him see a part of Giyuu he wouldn't have dreamed of sharing just a couple months ago.

Tanjiro gazed up at him as he spoke, silent but intent. When Giyuu finished, he stayed quiet for a while before answering. "I understand... It just feels harder to... to let myself be happy? Now? And I still feel responsible for hurting Nezuko, like I have to be a better brother for her now and support her instead of the other way around," he admitted, his voice cracking at the end.

"I know. I know," Giyuu said quietly. And he did, he really did. He felt that, somehow, they had embraced him into their family of some sorts. As if he had become their brother, that now he must accept the role and take care of the two, to be there for both of them. He didn't know if he was doing a good job, if he was succeeding. But if Tanjiro felt comfortable to be telling him all of this, then maybe he was. "You're doing great, Tanjiro. I can tell... from Nezuko, that she admires you a lot and she seems to be happier when you're around, too. But also you shouldn't feel like you have to be in charge of everything, you should let other people take over from time to time and put less pressure on yourself."

Tanjiro bit his lip, considering this. Then a small smile curved his lips and he tilted his head up to look at Giyuu. "You should do that too, Giyuu-san," he said, nudging him gently with his head.

That brought a smile to Giyuu's face as well and he let out a breath. "Then we can do this together, okay? We can navigate it all, but we won't be alone. Yeah?"

"Yes... okay," Tanjiro agreed, closing his eyes and leaning back onto Giyuu. They were quiet again and Giyuu figured that Tanjiro had fallen asleep after a while. But then Tanjiro spoke, seeming to be on the brink of slumber, his breaths slowing to a tranquil beat. "Thank you, Giyuu-san."

Giyuu gazed at him for a moment. Then he leaned his head against Tanjiro's, closing his own eyes. "Thank you, too."

SDHKSGJSDjknsdnij (sobs) pllleaase send more requests w them OMG

[eviesaurusrex]

“ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ?” | ᴛ. ꜱᴛᴀʀᴋ | ꜱ. ʀᴏɢᴇʀꜱ

GIFs not mine!

Tony Stark x Enhanced Daughter!Reader; Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader

summary: The Sokovia Accords are on the table—and her father fully on Team Accords.

word count:

warnings: protective!Steve, angst, swearing, hurt, tears, a bit of fluff in the end

author’s note: I don’t know where this came from. Maybe from a post on my feed, talking about the Accords. And maybe because I rewatched Civil War not too lang ago.

;

“The past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate—but I think we have a solution.”

Ever since Ross had spoken those words and Tony had been awfully quiet in his chair far off the team, something very cold had settled in her body. She couldn’t shake off the feeling that something would go terribly wrong as soon as those pages had hit the glass table in the conference room—the name alone made her nauseous. One look at Wanda and YN had known that the woman felt similar, pushing the booklet over the table, away from her; passing this monstrosity around so that everyone could take a glimpse into a future non of them ever wished for.

Well, except for her father, apparently.

YN knew Tony Stark like the back of her hand, so she immediately knew something was off with him. The suspicion was corroborated as he had lifted his gaze from his hands and the ground, glancing over at her, and he wasn’t able to mask the guilt in his eyes entirely. Not for her, at least. She could read him like no other person in her life, not even Steve, after four years of teamwork and two years into a loving relationship.

Now, she stood in the lounge, Ross long gone, the Accords resting in the hands of her boyfriend, blonde brows deeply furrowed. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest and had taken a relatively wide stance right in Steve’s back, gazing over his shoulder and skipping through the paragraphs. YN didn’t need to read every single word to know and understand the overall notion and meaning behind the wording.

She had studied law at Harvard—she still knew her tea, even though her studies seemed as if they were part of another life.

“This is bullshit,” the Stark mumbled under her breath, shaking her head so slightly one could miss the movement entirely. Steve’s super soldier hearing picked up on it anyway, and he hummed in agreement, not turning around and continuing to flip through the many pages of regulations. “This isn’t what we stand for. That’s the opposite,” he added with a low voice so she was the only one who could hear the words. YN sighed and unfolded her arms, taking hold of one of his broad shoulders and gripping onto it as if her life depended on it.

Steve felt the discomfort—the fear—through her touch, so one hand traveled upwards to cover hers with his. He gently squeezed her fingers and could hear how she took a deep breath to slow down her rising heartbeat. But it wouldn’t work as usual, and Steve let the Accords drop to the coffee table to rise from his seat and pull her into his strong, protective hold. He wrapped her in his warmth, pulled the smaller woman into his chest, and leaned his cheek on the crown of her head; closing his eyes at the feeling of her arms locking around his waist.

“I’ll never let them take you,” the blonde whispered into her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead. YN nodded, knowing that he meant every single word, felt protected by him though she could handle herself pretty darn good on her own. At least one thing bestowed upon her by Hydra itself she could use for the good of this world—and to protect herself and the people she loved. “I know,” she whispered back, accepting his soft lips on her own for a quick—but loving nonetheless—kiss before she turned to her father, who sat there without uttering a single word, staring up to the ceiling, a hand covering the rest of his face.

“Will you say anything about this?” YN asked him after letting go of Steve and taking a step in his direction. Tony moved his eyes to her, a dark brow cocked. “I think I made myself clear, don’t you think?” She shook her head and took another step towards him. “Maybe, but I don’t believe you understand this situation in its entirety,” she shot back and ignored the worried glances changed by the rest of the team. Tony rose from his slouching position and rested his forearms on his knees, staring over at her. “Caution, YN,” he warned, and if the usage of her full name weren’t a hint to his decision, his tone would’ve been the key. But she couldn’t let go, not when her freedom was dangling on one loose thread. “I told you what I think about this, about the Accords. We can’t keep going like we used to, can’t run havoc on the planet like we used to, destroying everything in our way.”

YN scoffed, and anger bubbled up in her body. “It’s not like we do it out of spite, Tony.” She could see how he flinched at the offbeat name she called him. YN couldn’t care less at that moment. “We are saving lives when running havoc, as you put it so charmingly. We are not Hydra or any other of these bad boy groups who destroy this planet for fun, who destroy lives out of pure fun and hurt people out of pure fun. We are not them, and we will never be them even though you seemingly think we could be—I could be.” She swallowed thickly, feeling the memories of her capturing trying to push back to the surface, trying to haunt her again during daytime though she had managed to chain them to her nightmares. “Did you ever read this fully? Did you ever think about the wording, just for a second?” Tony started to say something, but YN couldn’t control her anger anymore, the rage too all-consuming in her mind. “If you agree to this, you agree that they can take me and lock me away when I—in their eyes—overstep. No one is controlling them, and no one is telling them what an overstep looks like, not even their precious book over there.” She pointed to the Accords still resting on the coffee table. “Don’t you understand? They can decide that I overstepped, and I’m gone. They can think I’m too dangerous or that they simply fear me, and they can conjure some ridiculous boundary violation up, and I’m at their mercy. Did you ever think about this while making up your mind? Did you ever think about your daughter, Tony?!”

YN knew that she used the exact same words Pepper once screamed into his face at the early stages of their father-daughter-dynamic, right after CPS had dropped her at his front door, and Tony, by far, wasn’t ready to be a father. He had continued to party around the world, leaving his daughter to his assistant, and only returned when she was so sick Pepper had to admit her to the hospital. She had screamed those words in a brightly lit hospital hallway in which Tony finally had a mental breakdown—or breakthrough as he liked to see it—and realized what a shitty father he had been—just like his own.

So, she knew what those words would do to him, but she had to have him understand this situation they were facing now—the situation he would put her in if he continued to think that the Accords were a good thing. But instead, she could see him shut down just as he always did as soon as the emotions inside him became too much or too heavy to bear. He clearly didn’t want to think about the possibility of her being locked away, but he didn’t want to stand against it either.

“Maybe that’s the point, YN. Maybe you are too dangerous for this world,” her father suddenly said the words YN would’ve never thought possible. Her breath caught up in her throat, trying to suffocate her, and the tears, already ready to overflow, escaped her eyes. “Tony!” Natasha whispered, shocked to her very core, and even Rhodey gasped for air.

She desperately tried to suppress the rising sob wanting to escape her mouth while taking a step back, hitting a familiar broad chest, and felt big hands grabbing her shoulders in a steadying but soothing grip. But she couldn’t stay here—not in this room, not in this building, not in his vague proximity.

“Go to hell,” YN spat out and pulled away from Steve’s hold, turning around to leave this goddamn place, not witnessing the horrid realization growing on her father’s paling face.

—

With tear-clouded eyes, YN ripped open the double door of the closet in her room and started to pull every single piece of clothing article from its designated spot on several hangers—ruining her much-needed tidiness in the process of it. Her mind screamed at her to stop being headless and do this task thoughtfully, but she just couldn’t stop herself or her hands from throwing everything on her bed, right next to the duffel bag waiting to be filled again.

At first, she didn’t notice the figure leaning in the door frame. It only dawned on her that she was being watched when her favorite pair of combat boots flew through the air and hit the ground with a deep thudding sound, hitting the dresser, and she had turned around to see how her favorite vase almost fell victim to her headlessness. Steve had caught the delicate item mid-air and put it back in its place before moving his sky-blue eyes back at her, blonde brows furrowed again.

“What are you doing, darlin’?” His voice was as soft as always but was now laced with worry at the picture of her state of mind. YN shrugged while grabbing the last shirts from her closet and brought them to her bed before moving to the dresser right next to her boyfriend. “Leaving,” was the only response she could press out of her lungs and throat, both still constricted by the amount of still unshed tears. She pulled open the drawers one after the other to find all the essentials she needed while finding the courage to utter the next words on her mind. “You don’t have to come with me. I know how much my father means to you, and I’m sure you’ll work through this, but… but I can’t stay here and just watch.” She piled pairs of socks in her arms, followed by her underwear, before dumping everything on the growing pile of clothes, ready to push everything she needed into her bag and leave this place.

“Darlin’,” Steve gently called her, but YN shook her head, not daring to look at him. “You don’t have to feel guilty or bad, Steve. I’m a big girl; I can survive the outside world.” Money was not a problem, after all. She heard his deep, rumbling sigh while she started to put her combat boots into the duffel bag, directly followed by underwear and t-shirts—she even had sneaked one of Steve’s shirts into the pile.

“Would you please look at me, pretty girl?” At the sound of one of his many pet names for her, YN sighed as well and slowly glanced over at him. But her eyes widened at the sight of a fully prepped duffel bag leaning against the door frame and his favorite jacket thrown over his broad shoulders. “What…?” The Stark couldn’t end the question hanging in the air between them. “Did you really think I’d stay here and accept something endangering you?” He now smiled her beloved smile and walked over to her. Steve’s big hands—which always treated her like the most precious possession—cupped her cheeks; his thumb tenderly caressing her cheekbone while his blue eyes observed her face intently. “I would have never let you go alone, darlin’. I promised you something four years ago, and I should be damned if I don’t keep it to the moment of my last breath after I already failed you one time.”

YN let her hands rest on his chest and softly shook her head. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered with worried eyes because she knew that Steve would always feel guilty and responsible for her kidnapping by Hydra, even though they both knew that it wasn’t his fault. But Steve only sighed and stepped closer and only stopped as he felt her body gently pressed against his. “I’m following you until the end of the world, and I will always have your back.” She tried to blink the tears out of her eyes but failed. “Even when it means you have to go against governmental orders?” Steve smiled and bent his head down to her. “Even when it means going against governmental orders,” he agreed and kissed her with all the love he had for this woman.

;

It’s short and I’m really not happy with the ending, but I have to get back into the flow and have to distract my mind from the upcoming anxiety inducing things in my life lol. Hope y’all liked it tho. As usual: comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated!

taglist: @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @seasonofthenerd @onecrazydirectioner @meeksmusic83 @nyctophilic0vitnir

[smicksstuff]

summary: Yn is back in England after the thrilling start to the F1 Season in Bahrain. She has got a week to spend before jetting off to Jeddah with her big bro. Who will be the lucky few who gets to enjoy the company of the one and only yn gasly?

read Part 1 and Part 2 here

The PitBox Crew Series

Mischief Managed

f1 drivers x yn gasly

instagram edit

8 March 2023

yngasly

Hogwarts

liked by mickschumacher, lance_stroll and 973, 038 others.

yngasly It's wingardium leviOsa, not leviosAH. (ft the best tour guide in the world & lando)

view 567 comments

maxfewtrell ❤️

landonorris WOW i see how it is !

yngasly it is what it is

charles_leclerc next tour is maranello 🔜

yngasly cant wait!! i would love a ton of ferrari merch too #55 please 🙏🏽

carlossainz55 YESS! i found my favourite gasly!

pierregasly HEYYYY!!

charles_leclerc sorry i think the tour is fully booked 😕

yngasly itsokay then, im sure carlos or arty would bring me there 😎

liked by arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 567 others

charles_leclerc oh wait look at that my schedule is free now

sharl can we appreciate the fact that charles tried to be mean and failed miserably 😂

mickschumacher cant believe you went to harry potter world without me 💔 some kind of bestie you are 😭

schumacher47 mick being upset about not going to harry potter world is upsetting me

yngasly im sorry bestie we can go again tgt 🥺

mickschumacher you are paying

yngasly ME? FINE its on me

mickschumacher 👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼

yngaslyfc OMG the gasly genes are amazing! I'm in love 😻

pedrofans the hat and the nails and the fits!! her aesthetic is too die for 😍

landino yn hanging out with lando and max sounds like a new trio in the making !!

norris4life or its a cover up and they are secretly dating 🤔

pierregasly so this is what you ditched me for ? im hurted.

yngasly its hogwarts pierre, you dont skip on hogwarts

lance_stroll did you just cast wingardium leviosa? ‘cause you’re sweepin’ me off my feet! 😍

sirlancelot what in the hogwarts is happening?

lancestrollfans oh my my lance what are you doing

yngasly its an A for effort definitely

liked by lance_stroll and 1056 others

mickschumacher @lance_stroll how do you feel right now?

chloestroll idk who that was but its not my brother i refuse to believe what i just read

scottyjames31 never ever gonna let you forget this!! its become a core memory.

ls18 lance just trying to shoot his shot

lancestrollfans a cheesy pickup line by strulovich is not what i envisioned myself waking up to.

rickybobby OMG she would have been a dannyric girl! their aesthetic just click so well!

liked by 1068 others

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10 March 2023

lando.jpg

liked by yngasly, carlossainz55 and 956, 673 others

lando.jpg introducing my favourite people and yn

view 900 comments

yngasly WOW ! this is war now

lando.jpg you started it

maxfewtrell i feel so loved today ❤️

georgerussell63 what is yn playing

yngasly goat simulator

georgerussell63 why of all games that

yngasly lando didnt let me play on the sim 😭

lando.jpg but you were having so much fun on the goat simulator

yngasly im a quick learner! at least i didnt think that we needed to milk the goats 👍🏼

liked by lando.jpg, alexalbon, and 587 others

georgerussell63 that was low

gr63 not yn dragging george! i love her

alabono not alex liking the comment too

landino lando says “and yn” like she isnt the favourite one 😂

liked by 569 others

quadrantmania literally 5/9 of the photos has her in it

username4 he can do so much better than her fr, luisa is so much prettier than her

liked by 385 others

quadrantmania this is a hate free zone, please leave

ln4 umm is no one gonna speak about the rollercoaster pic ? or are we just assuming its yn?

landino …

username7 it better be someone else who would date her after all she did in milan

user2 what happened in milan ?

username7 why do you think she got shipped off to england?

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11 March 2023

yngasly added to their story!

f1wags

London

liked by sirlancelot, landino, sharl, and 278, 688 others

f1wags Yn Gasly, youngest child of the Gasly family has been spotted in a cafe in London with a guy. Since her first reappearance into the F1 world at the Bahrain paddock in 2023, she has been linked with a few drivers such as the likes of Mclaren Formula 1 Driver; Lando Norris and Ferrari hotshot Charles Leclerc. What are your thoughts on who this mystery guy is ?

Who is Yn Gasly?

The 23 year old Gasly girl is the youngest of the 5 siblings. She is currently a student at The University of Buckingham studying Marketing and Media Communications. She transferred from Universita Iulm - Communications, Media and Advertising where she had been studying the past 2 years. Her transfer to England allowed her to accompany her brother at his new Formula 1 team.

The youngest Gasly grew up alongside Charles Leclerc, Esteban Ocon and Anthoine Hubert who was her best friend. Yn has always been an avid fan of racing. She used to kart with Pierre, Charles and Anthoine. Racing was not her passion however, she was always seen in the garages of Pierre, Anthoine and Charles, cheering them on at every race. Following the lost of her bestfriend, she left the racing scene and supported Pierre and Charles from the television screen. She made a return to the paddock this season sporting the Alpine colours of Pierre’s new team.

view 768 comments

lando4life that guy definitely is lando. they have been hanging with each other all week !!

landoooo i heard that she even appeared on max���s stream

ln4 i mean how can it not be lando, did you see the pictures he posted with her !!

landoo04 he posted a movie theater too on his jpg account too

sharl thats our monegasque king for sure! have you not seen the flirty comments they leave on each others post

sharl plus i mean they’d make a hot couple

landino charles hasnt been in london tho, he has been in italy all this while.

supermaxx thats our london boy lando for sure! their banter is beyond just friends.

liked by 700 others

estiebestie anyone for a second thought that maybe it was lance?

sirlancelot lance and yn have always been friends, the flirty comments is nothing new

premaagirls thats true!! they were good friends when lance was in prema

lancesgirls she and chloe have also been besties for a long time!!

f1fans how are yall so blind to the fact that she uprooted her entire life in milan just for pierre! i mean i cant believe she left milan because of pierre

yngaslyfc im pretty sure she had her reasons for transferring!

f1fans just imagine that you have to uproot your life for your sibling! she has been doing it her entire life just so pierre can race. its unbelievable the extents they go so they can race!

username3 how is this even allowed in this modern world! thats absurd!

yngaslyfc if you really read and understand pierre’s and yn’s story you will find out that yn did not give up her dreams or education for pierre! pierre and yn have always been an unbreakable duo.

yngaslyfc plus pierre has always been supportive towards yn’s aspirations, she has always been a priority for him. so i think you should get your facts right before commenting on them.

liked by yngasly and 68 others

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13 March 2023

yngasly just posted a story!

-

credits: all pictures are found from pinterest and instagram

a/n: thank you for reading this far !! If you have any suggestions send them to me!! I would love to hear them ◡̈

if you would like to be tagged when new parts are released, drop your usernames in the comments!! 😁

[musings-of-a-rose]

A New Life

Pairing: Clint “Freaky Tales” x f!readers (there’s 2, both have nicknames)

Word Count: 11,000+ (it's a long one, folks!)

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: a huge shoutout to @nerdieforpedro for beta reading this and giving me the confidence to actually hit post. And to Mr. Rose for helping me out of a corner.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Clint Masterlist

CLINT

“No! No, please! Tell The Guy I'll step back from his territory!”

Clint stares down at the man who's now covered in his own blood, coughing and spitting up the red liquid onto the floor, splashing a little onto Clint's shoes. He looks at the man and grabs his hair, yanking his head back and staring him in the eyes, seeing fear at the rapidly approaching end of his life. 

“Then you should've stopped when we warned you.”

Clint slides his knife into the man's abdomen, watching as the man coughs and sputters, small gasps all he can manage as the life leeches from his body. When he slumps, Clint knows it's over. He sits back, shaking his head and sighing, looking around at the mess all over the tarp he'd placed on the floor. I'm getting tired of this.

He cleans up and disposes of the body properly, his stomach rumbling by the end of his work. A quick glance at his watch tells him it's nearly 3am. He hopes there's still someplace open where he can at least get a cup of hot coffee. 

He drives in the general direction of his apartment for nearly 15 minutes before he sees the neon OPEN sign on the side of a little corner diner. He parks around the back, adjusting his pants and smoothing down his shirt before heading inside, a little bell ringing as the door swings open. It's quiet, only one other person sitting at a booth in the back corner, a man who doesn't look when the bell dings, too absorbed in his own issues. 

“Hey, hun! Have a seat wherever and I'll be right over!” The waitress calls from somewhere behind the counter. Clint looks around and finally settles on sitting at the counter, spinning to face the counter on the bar stool. 

The waitress suddenly appears, smoothing out her skirt before turning to face him and when she does, Clint momentarily forgets how to breathe. She is the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen and her smile makes him feel warm and safe, things he hasn't felt since he was a child. And even then, that's debatable. 

Her smile is bright and wide. “Sorry to make you wait! That damn sink pipe’s entire purpose is to annoy me, I swear. Want some coffee, hun?” She's already got the pot in her hand, regular, not decaf. He nods and she pours him a mug with a smile, sliding a small bowl with some creamer and sugar packets towards him. 

“You look hungry. You a steak man?”

Clint pours one of the sugar packets into his black coffee. “I like steak.”

“Great! The steak here is-” She leans closer to him “-edible. But it's best in town at 3am!”

Clint chuckles, the sound almost unfamiliar to him. “Sounds perfect.”

She writes down his order and turns, placing the ticket in a clip and rotating it, dinging another bell so the cook knows he has an order. 

“James? You back there? You have an order!”

There's some sort of affirmative grunted towards her that she accepts with a shake of her head, turning back to face Clint. 

“James is a nice guy. Lost his hearing in one ear in the war. Sometimes you have to be a little louder for him. At his request of course.” 

Clint nods and takes a sip of his coffee, expecting it to taste bitter and cheap, exactly like what you'd expect coffee at a diner open at 3am to taste like. But to his surprise, it doesn't. A pleasant mix of coffee beans washes over his tongue and he can't help a little moan escape him. 

A different smile, this one more sly. “You enjoying your coffee?”

Clint feels the tips of his ears heat up. “Uh, yeah.”

“I'm glad you like it, Mr….” Her eyebrows raised and Clint chokes down his sip. 

“Clint. No need for a Mr., ma'am.”

She waves her hand with another smile. “No ma'am here. I'm not that old!” She chuckles and tells him her name. “But everyone calls me Poppy.”

Poppy. He likes that name. It makes him feel happier somehow, like she's somehow taking care of him, not just because she's a waitress. 

She continues chatting with him while she bustles around, cleaning things and restocking sugar trays, and cleaning menus, Clint chiming in now and again. The man in the back corner eventually leaves and they're alone in the diner together. Aside from James in the back, who had just set his plate down on the back counter. 

“Thanks, James!”

“I'm going out for a smoke, Poppy.” 

She gives him a thumbs up and James takes off his apron, walking out of the side door. Poppy turns and makes a little fanfare of bringing him his diner steak and potatoes, setting it down in front of him and then casually placing the A1 steak sauce next to him. 

“You might need this.” She winks at him and he melts, what can only be described as butterflies in his stomach. 

Get it together, Clint. You don't do this. You don't like people like this. Fall for people. 

But then he's done with his steak, telling her some funny stories from his childhood. She's sitting across the bar from him, leaning on her elbows as she listens, laughing at all the right places. He's trying desperately hard to not be obvious in staring at her boobs, which had been pushed together tighter the more she leans forward. 

“If you don't mind me asking, Poppy. Why are you working this shitty shift?”

She cocks her head to the side slightly, her eyes on his. “Someone has to be here to serve you.”

He nods. “Yes but why you?” 

She waits a moment. “Maybe I'm just waiting for the right man to come on by.”

Shit. He had told himself she wasn't flirting, that she was just being nice to him for a tip. That he could just flirt a little and then be on his way. Normally, he'd take her out back and fuck her in his truck, promises to call again that he knows he'd never fulfill. But none of those women were her. None of them made him feel this way, her laugh and big eyes smiling at him while he sits here with blood on his hands and his past full of monsters.

So instead, he surprises himself. 

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?”

She glances at the clock on the wall. “If you're not too tired, I'm off in an hour and you can take me for breakfast.”

He smiles an actual genuine smile. “Breakfast it is.”

The conversation flows between them at breakfast, both of them laughing and joking throughout it all. And at the end, he walks her to her car, asking her on another date before they reach it, her enthusiastic “yes” giving him the confidence to kiss her, his hands cupping her face as their lips melt together. He presses her back against the side of her car, his body aching to be with her, inside of her. But not like this. She's different. She's special. He wants to take his time with Poppy. So he pulls back, a promise to pick her up in 2 nights for dinner. 

Clint takes her out on several more dates, falling harder for her each time he sees her, hears her laugh, sees how attentive she is towards him. He doesn't think he deserves her, knows he doesn't, but maybe she's his way out of his world of darkness and bad deeds. The world he's kept hidden from her, whether because he's afraid she'd leave him or he's too afraid to bring his darkness into her light he's not sure. 

But Clint knows he can't leave her. He's gone too far. 

2 weeks in, and his resolve to treat her like a lady, an actual relationship, which is what they'd finally called it, snaps when she opens her door in a black dress that accentuates everything about her that he loves. 

“I know we were supposed to go out tonight Clint, but I thought maybe I could cook for you instead?” She looks nervously up at him and he knows right there, he'd do anything she asked him to.

“If it's not too much trouble.”

She shakes her her, chuckling lightly. “Not at all. Come on in.” 

Clint follows her inside, hearing her lock the door behind him. He kicks his boots off and places them by the door. 

“I thought we could have steak. A real one. Dear James does his best with what he has but…” her voice trails off and Clint chuckles. 

“Steak sounds delicious.”

“Great! Would you like a quick drink before I start cooking? Or are you too hungry?”

“A drink sounds great, thanks.”

He takes a beer from her and she leads him to the couch. They both sit, taking sips from their drinks before setting them on the coffee table. He's nervous, his palms a little sweaty. Why is he so nervous? Clint looks at Poppy and he can see the way she's shifting around slightly, obviously nervous herself, which somehow gives him the confidence he needs. Confidence that he's never had a problem with before. 

When he touches his lips to hers, he knows he belongs to her forever. 

POPPY

I knew what I was doing, inviting Clint in for dinner instead of going to a restaurant as we had planned. But I wanted to take care of him, try and help quell that sadness and regret hidden just behind his eyes, the darkness he swallows and blinks away when our eyes meet, for the sake of me. 

We settle on the couch, each taking a sip of our respective drinks before setting them on the coffee table. I see him wipe his palms across his jeans, a sweet, nervous gesture and I smile shyly, turning my head to the side to tuck some hair behind my ear. I look back up at him and find him looking at me already, his deep brown eyes seeing into me and I feel myself stepping off the cliff, diving headfirst into love. Could it be love this early? I’d felt it before once, in my youth. But I had been burned and so kept my heart behind a lock but somehow, Clint already had the key. 

He keeps his eyes on mine when he slides closer to me, hesitating briefly before placing his hand on my bare thigh, my skin tingling where he touches me. I angle my body towards him a little more, feeling his large hand cup my cheek, a soft smile on his lips before he leans in, pressing his lips to mine. We’ve kissed plenty, made out in the back of his truck for hours and hours, but this is different. The energy has shifted, our paths fully converging to become one. 

He slides his hand on my thigh up higher and I spread my legs for him, opening more than just my body to him. His fingertips brush against my panties and I inhale sharply against his lips, his hand stalling. 

“Is..is this ok?” He asks, a nervous tremble in his voice.

“Please,” I whisper, begging him to touch me again. “Please touch me.”

He kisses me again, pushing his tongue into my eager mouth and I feel him between my legs again, gently stroking up and down, up and down, feeling how wet my underwear has become. He pushes aside my panties, slowly swirling one thick finger around me before pushing in, my whine breaking our kiss before he grunts out, mumbling something about how tight I feel. 

He deepens the kiss, his finger gently stroking inside of me, brushing against me and I moan into his mouth, my legs twitching. When he stops, pulling away from me, I think I’ve done something wrong. But then he slides from the couch, getting on his knees, kissing my thighs as he hooks his fingers in my underwear, sliding them off and tossing them over his shoulder. He pushes my legs open wide, putting them over his shoulders as he stares between my legs, eyes dark and admiring. 

He looks up at me and I nod, knowing what he wants even though I’m not really experienced with it. He places soft kisses on my inner thighs, slowly moving to where his hand had been moments before. When his tongue touches me, I gasp, a breathy “oh” escaping me while my thighs try to slam against his head of their own volition. He chuckles against me and I moan at the vibration, feeling him wrap his hands around my legs to push me open wider. His tongue is relentless, swirling around, tapping, and I reach for him, tangling my fingers into his hair and tugging on it when he lightly sucks on me.

“Oh…oh, I-” I break open, cry out as I come, Clint’s tongue guiding me through my release. I release his hair, my legs falling open as he sits back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 

He stands, offering me his hand and I take it, allowing him to pull me up against his body. He smells like cedar, a hint of cigarette smoke, and me, my head swimming with the scent of it all. 

“Bedroom?” He asks, his eyebrows raised.

I nod, almost too much in my enthusiasm. “This way.”

I take his hand and lead him on wobbly legs down the small hallway to my bedroom, grateful that I had made the bed this morning. Clint closes the door behind himself and turns to look at me. Several long moments pass where we just look at each other, the energy in the air electric, as if he didn’t have his head between my legs just moments ago. He closes the distance between us in a step or 2, stopping just short of me.

“Turn.”

I do as he says, feeling his large hand work my zipper down, his fingers brushing against my skin as he pulls the dress down and off, coming back to do the same to my bra. He moves my hair off my neck, placing soft kisses there as one hand wraps around my boob and the other dips a finger between my thighs. My head lolls back and I moan, feeling him pinch and tug at my nipple as I get wetter and wetter. I can feel him nearly bulging out of his jeans, the denim pressed against my ass, so I gently grab his wrists and turn around. 

I say nothing as I start to unbutton his flannel, sliding it down and off his broad shoulders, noting the appearance of a new scratch on his chest since the last time he’d taken his shirt off around me. I keep my eyes on his face as my hands unlatch his belt, popping open the button on his pants before carefully sliding down his zipper. I push his jeans down, getting on my knees to help slide them off of his legs. I look up at him as I pull down his underwear, a small grunt from him as he springs free. I want to return the favor, take him in my mouth but then his hand grips my chin, pulling me back to standing. 

“I’d love to feel your mouth on me, but Poppy, I want to make love to you.”

He helps me lay back on the bed, his eyes roaming over my naked body, more dark loving than I’ve ever seen them.

“You’re so beautiful, Poppy.”

I spread my legs, allowing him to settle between them. He kisses me, soft at first, his mustache tickling my upper lip, his hands sliding across my body, goosebumps following in his wake. His lips travel down my neck, finding a spot just below the side of my jaw that has me squirming, my fingers burying themselves in his hair. 

But then he pushes in and the world stops, nothing else in the world exists but us. We meld together, our bodies moving as one, slotting together like we were made for each other. I writhe under him, his hips breaking me open out of my cocoon, showing me what pleasure really is, what love really is. His hips thrust a little harder and I come, his name tumbling from my lips like a chant, praising him as my nails dig into his back. I feel his hips sputter, soft grunts and pants in my ear as he comes with me, his forehead coming to rest against mine. 

“Holy shit,” he says, his breath puffing out against my face. “That was..”

“It was.”

He lifts his head and looks at me, kissing me softly before pulling out, and getting a washcloth to clean me up. 

A steak dinner never tasted so good.

CLINT

He was the happiest he’d ever been. Poppy was a beacon of light in the darkness that was his life, always there to welcome him with open arms. It had only been a few weeks, but he loved her. He knew deep down that he never wanted to be without her. 

He just felt so fucking guilty about it. 

He was torn on telling her about his job, his real job, not the one he told her he did. He wasn’t a delivery man, although he did deliver whatever terrible fate that The Guy bestowed upon those who crossed him in business. He’d been a little too preoccupied tonight and his mark managed to slice his cheek with a knife before Clint snuffed the life from him.

But Poppy doesn’t even question it, just takes him into the bathroom and gently cleans his cut, dabbing some alcohol on it that burns, but not enough to distract him from the guilt he feels. He knows he has to get out. 

A few months go by and he couldn’t be happier with Poppy. They had been dating for about 8 months and he wanted desperately to ask her to move in with him, but first he had to leave The Guy. He couldn’t have him showing up whenever he felt like it. No matter what, he would protect Poppy from that side of his life. 

After he kills his next mark, he heads back to The Guy to give him his confirmation of delivery, so-to-speak. 

“What would I do without you, Clint?”

Clint shifts his weight to his back leg, hands on his hips. “Actually, I need to talk to you about that.”

The Guy sits back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “Oh?”

Clint clears his throat. “Yeah. I uh, I need to retire.”

The Guy raises an eyebrow. “Retire?”

“Yeah. My body isn’t what it used to be. My knees almost gave out tonight. I can’t continue like this.”

The guy sits there, his fingers still laced together as he studies Clint. “You have served me well, Clint. I’ll let you out, holding onto that evidence in case you try to cross me-”

“I would never. I’m not a snitch.”

The Guy holds up a hand. “I know. One can never be too careful these days. I think you get that?” Clint nods. “Good. I’ll let you out but I have one more delivery for you to make first. You’re the only one I can trust with it. What do you say?”

Clint stands there for a moment, thinking about his options. He only has one. “Deal.”

They shake on it, The Guy gives him the details, and Clint is out the door, feeling a little lighter now that he can see the light at the end of the tunnel. He’s finally getting out, starting a new life free of bloodshed with the love of his life.

He killed that last mark in near record time, The Guy shaking his hand and thanking him for all of his hard work. 

He knows she’s on the late shift again tonight, so after he cleans up, Clint heads over to the diner, their diner, watching Poppy move about through the dusty window. She smiles at a customer, but when Clint walks in and she sees him, her entire faces lights up, her eyes beaming as she crosses the room, pressing her lips to his and forgetting herself for a few seconds before pulling back, her face hot.

“Clint! To what do I owe this surprise?”

“Move in with me.”

He hadn’t meant to ask it like that, so blunt and harsh. But he couldn’t wait anymore and it sort of just came out when he opened his mouth. Surprise on her face, her eyes widening for a moment before that smile splits her face again, the one she has only for him.

“When can I get my things?”

They get married exactly 1 year from the day they met.

“Poppy! What are you doing?” Clint rushes into the kitchen, quickly snatching the knife Poppy was using to spread peanut butter on her sandwich. 

“Clint, I’m pregnant, not sick. I can do it myself.”

“The doctor said to rest.”

She smiled, a soft smile and squeezed his bicep. “The doctor said for me to relax the last 2 months. Not stay in bed entirely.”

Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just..let me do things for you, ok? Have a seat on the couch and I’ll bring your food.”

Poppy looks like she wants to argue for a moment, but then gives in, tossing her hands in the air before heading into the living room. 

“And don’t forget the-”

“Apples. I got it, Poppy.”

Clint arranges 2 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and some apple slices on a plate, also grabbing a glass of water to set on the coffee table in front of her. She reaches for the plate with grabby hands, smiling and shifting her weight as she settles in, making light work of the food before downing half the glass of water. 

“Thanks, babe.”

Clint puts his arm around her shoulders and kisses her head. “Anything for you.” He shifts a little. “You need a foot massage?”

“The day I turn down a foot massage, just know I’m a clone.”

Clint chuckles as he helps Poppy turn, laying back on the couch, her head on the arm. He takes one of her feet in his hands and starts to work them, spending extra time on the knots and sore spots. The sounds Poppy makes has him shifting in his seat, his hands starting to work up her legs. He gets to her upper thighs, leaning down to press kisses along her inner thigh before she gently grabs his wrist. 

“Hey now, that’s what put this here,” she gestures to her belly. 

Clint presses another kiss to her inner thigh, higher up this time, listening as her breath hitches. “Well then, let me help you relax.”

Clint spends the next hour buried between her legs, Poppy’s fingers twisting in his hair, his fingers digging into her legs as she chants his name over and over and he thinks this would be the perfect way to go: smothered between his wife’s thighs.

“And that makes the last payment! Will you be taking home the crib today, sir?”

Clint puts his wallet in his pocket, nodding to the cashier. “I’ve got my truck out front.”

“Let me call for some help.” The cashier leans over her mic and asks for someone named John to come to the front for customer assistance. She makes idle chit chat with Clint, asking how his wife is doing so close to her due date.

“She’s stubborn and better be sitting her ass down and letting me take care of her,” Clint chuckles along with the cashier. 

“Don’t be too hard on her. She is fighting that nesting urge. It’s hard to resist, trust me!”

John comes up and takes the other end of the large box that contains a beautiful wooden crib that Poppy had laid eyes on months ago, determined to have that exact one for their baby. Clint had put it on layaway that same day, making sure he’d pay it off in time to assemble it before the baby’s arrival. He thanks John and takes off, glancing in the back at the box and smiling a little, already envisioning Poppy’s ecstatic face when she sees what he’s brought home. He turns onto their gravel drive, pulling into his parking spot and shifting the truck to park. He glances up at the house before reaching for the handle and freezes.

The door is cracked open. 

It’s very unlike Poppy to leave the door open, even when bringing in groceries. Clint’s eyes remain glued to the door, but he leans over to open the glovebox, carefully extracting the handgun he had stashed there. He checks the make sure it’s loaded before getting out of the truck, cautiously moving towards the front door, his stomach twisting tighter and tighter the closer he got. 

There were wood chips on the front step, an indication that this was not simply a case of forgetting to close the door. Someone had broken in. Gently, he pushes the door open, waiting a moment and hears nothing. He steps inside, gun raised and ears on high alert for anything, any sound. The main hall and living room are empty, aside from furniture tossed about, some of it destroyed. But as he cuts through the dining room just about to reach the kitchen, his boot slips and he looks down, choking back the fear and panic that immediately threatened to take him over.

Blood. 

He pushes into the kitchen, eyes roaming around at the mess and then he steps around the island, dropping to the floor and tossing the gun aside. 

“Poppy? Oh God Poppy? Can you hear me?” He cradles her head in his lap, tears flowing down his cheeks. Her color is pale and he can’t tell where the blood is coming from exactly. But then she blinks and he lets out a choking cry as she looks at him.

“Hey baby! Don’t move. I’m gonna call someone.”

“C…Cl…Clint…” Her words are choked and he can tell she’s holding back tears.

“Ssshh don’t talk, baby. You’ll be alright. I’m here now.” He reaches up on the counter, hand tapping around and landing on the phone before pulling it down to him. He quickly dials 9-1-1, barking at the responder to send an ambulance immediately before Poppy calls his name again and he drops the phone.

“They’re coming, Poppy. Just hold on.”

“Clint…I…I love you.”

“Hey now, none of that. You’re going to be ok, you hear me?” His throat is tight, his stomach churning as he pets her head, wiping the blood onto his pants. 

“Please..be happy. I want…want you to be..be happy.”

“I will be happy because you’ll be here with me.” He cradles her head in his lap, the tears falling harder and she reaches up, a wavering hand smeared with blood that she places on his cheek. Their eyes meet and in them he can see her resolve, her sorrow not for her own life but for him, for not being able to be here for him.

“Be happy, Clint. Have..have a good life. I can’t wait-” she gasps and closes her eyes for a moment before blinking them open and he can already see the glossiness in them. “-can’t wait to hear..all about it. I…I love you, Clint.” 

He swallows hard. “I love you too, baby.”

She smiles, one last time before she slumps, the light in her eyes that hard brightened his life gone, snuffed out too soon. Clint wails, yells, screams, and sobs into the empty house, holding her close. The pain is too loud, too raw and real, threatening to overtake him. But then people are in their house, his house, trying to take her from him. He fights back, yelling and screaming they can’t take her from him, and then he feels a sting in his neck before the world blacks out around him. 

It’s a bright and sunny day, the sky a vibrant shade of blue, and just the right amount of fluffy, white clouds in the sky. Poppy would call it the most perfect of days, warm but not too warm, the perfect day to spend outside. 

Clint blinks in the sunlight as he watches them lower 2 caskets into the ground, one considerably smaller than the other, the priest saying some sort of prayer over them as the people gathered around shed their tears. Clint picks up a handful of dirt, holding it in his hand for a few moments while he stares down at the wooden boxes that contain his family, his future, all taken from him in the blink of a violent eye. He always thought he’d be the one to go out that way, in a bloody mess. But not them. They didn’t deserve this.

Clint tosses the dirt on the caskets and steps back, letting her parents toss handfuls on top as well, not really hearing them when they bring him in for a hug and mumble something about coming over for dinner. He doesn’t hear any of them as they file past him, patting his shoulder, telling him if he needs anything to just call. That they were all here for him. But what he needs the most, they can’t provide. No one can bring them back, bring her back.

Clint returns home, skipping the wake at her parents’ house for some quiet contemplation. The house is nearly silent, only the clock on the wall and the hum of the appliances make any sort of noise. Clint sits at the little table they had in the kitchen, staring down at the floor where he had held her for the last moments of her life. 

He had cried so much since then, wailing and screaming at the world, begging whomever is listening to take him instead, that he would gladly switch places with them, give up his sorry life for them to have a chance. But of course, nothing happened besides his throat hurting, his eyes stinging from overuse. 

But as he stares at the floor, depression and sorrow washing over him, a small thought ticks at the back of his head. He initially had thought it was a random break in, not all uncommon in Oakland. But when he had picked up the pieces of his broken life, he had noticed that nothing had been missing. All of Poppy’s jewelry, despite most of it being costume jewelry, was still there, so was the tv and pretty much everything else. It hadn’t clicked then, too preoccupied in his immediate grief to really think. 

This wasn’t a random act of violence. This was targeted. This was specific. This was for him. 

Clint hates himself anew, burying his face in his hands at the idea of him being the cause of their death. But then it hits him, washes over him and changes his purpose. Once it was to take care of her, of his family, but that had been ripped away and so had his future, his purpose. 

Vengeance. 

He had nothing left to lose. Nothing that anyone could possibly take from him. So why not go out in a blaze of violence, taking down everyone that was connected to his wife and child’s death.

Clint pushes his sorrow aside, locking it away gently as he gets to work locating those who would soon meet their day of judgement.

Several months later…

Clint sits in his truck, staring at the entrance to a seedy bar, watching a few wayward souls enter, one punching the other in the arm before the door closes behind them. He glances down at the paper in his hand, triple checking that he had the address right. He takes out a lighter and burns the paper, waiting until the last embers fade out before getting out of his truck and heading inside. 

He sits at the bar and orders a drink, taking a few sips before flagging down the bartender again, asking him if he recognizes a few names. The bartender, a middle aged man with eyes that had seen war, stares at him for a few moments before nodding towards a corner, a small group of men standing around the pool table. Clint thanks the bartender, leaving a large tip on the counter before turning in his stool to watch the men. There were 4 of them and they were already towing the line between buzzed and drunk, slightly stumbling around before taking their shots. 

Clint moves silently over, quietly sliding his blade into 2 of them, not waiting for their bodies to crumble to the floor before the other two even noticed he was there. One tried to swing at him, which he dodges easily, his blade quieting the man’s movements. The last guy, Rick, backed into a corner, desperately fumbling with something he had in the back of his pants, presumably a gun. Clint takes 2 large steps towards him, a second too late to see the man stop searching for the gun and grab a knife instead, swinging it wide and slicing into Clint’s side.

Clint stumbles, grunting for a moment before straightening up, dodging the man’s swings, ignoring the yelps from the other bar patrons as Rick swings wildly, knife cutting into the air just in front of Clint. He gets a few more blows in, pain searing into Clint before he grabs Rick’s wrist, turning it with a crack, Rick yelping in pain as his knife drops to the floor. Clint gets his knife to Rick’s side, pinning him against the wall.

“You killed my family.”

“Wh..what?”  

Clint presses the knife a little harder and Rick grunts in pain. “You killed my family.”

“Look look look. I don’t know who you are, man!” Another small push and Rick yelps again. “Can you be more specific?”

Clint glares at him. “In my kitchen. Woman. Pregnant.”

The color seems to drain from the man’s face as he recognizes the situation. “Oh..oh..well, listen, we were just given’ the assignment, right? No hard feelings. We were just doing what we were told!”

“Who told you?”

“Ah, look man. I can’t just-” Clint pushes the knife further, feeling warmth start to seep out around the knife. “-ok ok! Fuck, stop! I’ll tell you!” He whispers a name to Clint, a name that sounded vaguely familiar. Frances Stokes. He thinks he’s worked with him before.

“Is that all?” Clint barks out.

Rick furiously nods his head. “Yes, yes!”

“Thanks.” Clint drives the knife further in and up, waiting for Rick to slump over. But when he turns around, the barrel of a gun is pointed at him, the bartender obviously nervous.

“Get out of here, man! Just go!”

Clint doesn’t need telling twice. He doubts anyone in here will say anything, each of them involved in their other dark dealings to be in a place like this. Clint makes it to the front door, stumbling out onto the sidewalk, his hand clutched to his side. He glances down at his hand, seeing the crimson shine in the street light. He glances up and for a moment is transported: a woman, the same hair as Poppy’s stares back at him, only a few feet away, eyes wide as she takes him in. 

“Look out!” She yells at him, just in time for Clint to turn, stopping the man that had been running up behind him with a fist to his stomach. They both fall to the ground, rolling and punching before Clint gets on top, letting his fists fly as the guy’s head slams against the pavement. Clint shifts off of him, turning to see the woman still there, her hair like a shining beacon before he feels himself falling backwards, the blackness swallowing him.

Sunlight warms his face and for a moment, Clint feels transported. Like he was at home, safe in his bed with-

He blinks awake, reality slamming into him as he remembers punching the guy out before blacking out. His head feels like it’s splitting in 2, and his side hurts bad, like he had been stabbed - wait. He had been stabbed. He tries to sit up, groaning and laying back down when his head felt like it was splitting open.

“Hey, he lives! I wouldn’t sit up just yet.” 

Clint blinks rapidly a few times, the disembodied voice trying to permeate its way into the meat that is his brain right now. But then a person moves into his vision and it all comes flooding back: the woman from outside the bar. The one with hair just like Poppy’s.

“Where..” Clint coughs, just realizing how dry his mouth is. 

“Take it easy. I have some water here with a straw.” The woman grabs a cup off the side table and holds it next to him, pinching the straw inbetween her thumb and pointer finger so it stays in place. Clint debates for a moment on taking the drink from a stranger, but then again, if she had wanted to kill him, she’d have left him on that sidewalk. So he takes a few greedy sips before she pulls the straw from his mouth.

“Take it easy. Small sips.”

“Throat..dry.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve been out for 2 days. But you have to take small sips so you don’t overload your system.”

Clint nods and the straw returns. He does as she says and realizes she was right. She sets the cup back on the side table.

“Where am I?” Clint lets out a small cough.

“You’re at my apartment. I couldn’t just leave you there, not after you took care of that man.”

The man. Right. “He ok?”

“I shouldn’t have bothered checking him, not after he nearly attacked me, but I’m a nurse and I took an oath so,” She gestures vaguely around the room. “He died on the sidewalk.”

Well that’s one less thing he has to worry about. “You don’t seem shaken about that.”

Her eyes go somewhere else for a moment before she blinks. “I’m no stranger to death.”

Silence rules the room for several long moments. 

“Are you hungry? I have some pain pills but we should get some food in you too. I also have some clean towels and clothes in the bathroom if you’d like to shower.”

“I think food sounds good.”

She nods and heads out of the room, distant sounds coming from the kitchen. Clint looks around the room. It was obviously her bedroom, sparsely decorated but a few photos of presumably family sit in frames on her dresser, as does an empty vase. She has a random poster on the wall, a movie poster for The Thing. The blanket he has is soft and light blue, but not frilly like he’d expect. But it is warm and comforting. She comes back in with a tray, a bowl of vegetable soup and a grilled cheese sandwich sitting on it, a glass of water off to the side. She places it on the dresser and walks to him. 

“Let me help you sit up.”

“Oh, I don’t want to mess your sheets up.”

She waves her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I can always get new sheets.”

She helps him sit up, Clint holding his head for several moments before the searing pain abates. She puts the tray over his lap, tapping on the tray next to 2 small pills. “Make sure to take those now and eat some food after. I’ll let you eat.”

Clint reaches for the pills. “Thanks, Flo.”

She cocks her head and looks at him. “Flo?”

Clint pops the pills in his mouth, taking a few more sips of water to swallow them with, hoping they act fast. “Yeah. Like Florence Nightingale. The nurse?”

She smiles and tells him her name. “But Flo. I like it.”

That night, Flo insists he takes her bed again, that he needs the space to recover. He tries to argue but she’ll have none of it, promptly telling him goodnight and to yell if he needs anything before closing the door most of the way. 

The pain in his side keeps him from getting a good sleep, pain throbbing out from the wound Flo had stitched up. He didn’t want to bother her, he could just grunt through it, but then she was there, softly pushing the door open and rubbing sleep from her eyes. 

“Fuck, didn’t mean to wake you, Flo.”

She yawns and stretches, her sleep shirt lifting a little and exposing a sliver of skin. “You didn’t. I have to get up for work anyway. But I can see you’re in pain. The meds not working?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

“That happens sometimes when you gain consciousness. Give me a minute.” She disappears into the other room and returns a few minutes later, some scrubs tossed quickly on. She has a small pill bottle in her hand and she shakes one out, handing it to Clint.

“You can have one of these now but not another until I get home, ok? It’s pretty strong so don’t go mixing it with alcohol or anything.”

Clint nods. “Got it.” He pops the pill and swallows it, thanking Flo as she sets down some food next to him. 

“I’m going to be home this evening, but if you need me, here’s my work number. Just ask for me.” She sets a piece of paper down next to the phone on the nightstand. She pauses for a moment and looks at him. “I’ll uh..see you tonight.”

The meds kick in when she leaves and mercifully, they knock him out, Clint finally able to get the sleep his body desperately needed.

Fuck, getting injured at his age was not fun. Stabbings hurt a lot more than they used to. When Flo gets home she brings him more food, then has him take another pain pill. He passes out again, his dreams carrying him to dark places with familiar violent themes. He thrashes about, trying to rid himself of the images, and is yanked from his nightmare by a hand squeezing his shoulder. Clint’s eyes fly open and Poppy is standing there, her hair framing her face. He reaches out to touch her cheek, his fingers barely touching her soft skin.

“Poppy?”

She’s saying something that he can’t make out, so he shakes his head and blinks a few times. But when he opens them, he sees Flo standing there, worry etched in her features. 

“Clint! Are you with me?”

He puts his hand to his head and nods. “I…I think so.”

She puts her hand on his chest, trying to help him slow his breathing. “Are you ok? You were making a lot of noise.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. Are you ok?”

He takes a moment, his head still foggy. “I…will be. I think.”

She stands there for another moment. “Who’s Poppy?”

Clint's eyes harden as he glares at her. “What did you say?”

Flo pulls her hand back, regret in her eyes. “Poppy. You were calling her name. Is it someone I can call for-”

“NO! Don’t ever say that name again! Get out!”

Flo nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Tears immediately fall down his cheeks and he buries his face in the pillow, remembering the first and last time he’d seen Poppy.

It was nearly a week before he could tolerate not being on those heavy pain meds. Basic ones now worked just as well and his head started to clear. He was having flashes of memories from the week but nothing concrete. He did feel like he needed to apologize to Flo but for what, he couldn’t clearly remember.

Clint walks to the kitchen, the movement feeling good. He puts together a dinner of sorts, random things he can find in Flo’s fridge that seems to just have ingredients, nothing premade. He just sits on the couch, taking a bite of a sandwich when the front door opens and Flo walks in, gently shaking out her coat before hanging it on the hook. 

“Raining?” Clint asks, his mouth still full of sandwich.

“Oh, hey! Yeah. Not so bad here but it was pouring by the hospital.” She moves around to sit next to him on the couch, her eyes studying him. “How are you feeling?”

“So much better. I really can’t thank you enough.”

She glances down at his plate with his small sandwich. “Why don’t I whip us up something warm? Just give me a few minutes to wash off the day.”

“Oh you don’t-”

“I have to eat too. I’ll just make more.”

She made something called pesto pasta, which Clint had never heard of before. It was different but he would eat it again for sure. They watched some game show and then the news before Flo was yawning. 

“You want to take your bed back tonight?”

“No, that’s ok. You take it. I’ve got my own little nest going out here.”

Clint chuckles. “If you’re sure.”

He gets ready for bed and sits down to get comfortable. It was then he noticed that he had left his medicine in the living room. Before he could do anything, there was a soft knock at the door and Flo comes in carrying the pain meds. 

“You forgot these. Figured you’d want them.”

“Thanks.” Clint takes the bottles and pops them open, swallowing the pills with the glass of water on the nightstand. Flo turns to leave but Clint stops her.

“Wait. Can I ask you something?”

Flo turns around to look at him. “Sure.”

“Did I…did I do or say anything to you when I was on those big meds?”

Her face hardens slightly. “Nothing I’m not used to. It’s ok.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. What did I say?”

“It’s ok, really. I’ve had worse.”

“It’s not ok to me.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Flo, please. Tell me.”

She hesitates a moment, her eyes bouncing between his before she sits on the bed. 

“You were making a lot of noise one night and I came in to check on you. Your eyes opened but I don’t think you were really seeing things. You kept calling me Poppy. And when I asked who she was, you flipped out.”

Clint’s jaw tightens as the memory floods back. Her hair. That’s what made him think…

“Listen, you don’t have to tell me, Clint. I just wanted to know if I needed to call someone-”

“Poppy…was my wife.”

“Oh.”

Silence stretches on for several seconds before Clint swallows hard, continuing.

“She was…the love of my life. Made me a better man. Great woman. We got married…got pregnant. And then…” Clint clears his throat, blinking back tears, Flo waiting patiently, letting him take his time.

“I came home one day and they were…I held her while she…died.” He whispers the last word, but it’s like he yelled it, screamed it. He’d never talked about it with anyone, not even Poppy’s parents. 

Flo puts her hand on his and squeezes. “I’m so sorry, Clint.” He just nods, trying not to lose his shit in front of her. 

“You have her hair. It’s almost exactly like hers. So I guess I saw it and mixed with the meds, I thought…you were her.”

Flo nods, squeezing his hand a little harder. “I understand.”

Clint looks at her, his eyes hardening slightly. “How would you understand? How would you know what it’s like?”

She takes a deep breath before puffing it out. “I was engaged once. High school sweethearts. We were waiting to get married until we were out of school. Anyway, he was taking night classes and one night, this other guy decided it would be super fun to get drunk and drive….I lost my future that night. And I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Fuck. So she did know exactly how it feels.

“You remind me of him sometimes.” She says it so quietly Clint almost misses it.

“I do?”

“Yeah. It’s not…it’s in your small movements, the way the light hits your hair sometimes. So..I get it. Honestly, it’s just nice having someone else here. Someone who gets it.”

“Yeah. It is.” Clint squeezes her hand back and she looks at him, her eyes big in the lamp light, the glow bouncing off her hair and looking just like Poppy’s. 

Their hands stay intertwined for several long moments, Clint rubbing his thumb gently over the back of her hand. She scoots a little closer to him, her hand gently sliding up his arm. Clint’s breath picks up as her hand cups his cheek and they lock eyes, both silently asking the other if this was ok. Clint hesitates for a moment before slowly lowering his head to hers, their lips gently touching. Flo’s lips are soft and a little more plush than Poppy’s, but her tongue timidly brushing against his lips is all the permission he needs. 

His hand slides to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulls her close, his tongue dancing with hers. She moans softly, clutching at his shirt and he feels his pants growing tighter. Flo pulls back slightly, resting her forehead against his. 

“Bedroom. Nurse’s orders.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Flo takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom, the door closing behind them. For a moment they stare at each other, another moment of confirmation before she starts to pull her shirt off, the rest of her clothes following. Clint matches her actions, his own clothes falling into a pile on the floor. His eyes roam over her body before stepping forward, pulling her face to his again. Her fingers glide up the sides of his body, her warmth pressing into him and it all feels so intense, but not bad. He walks her backwards, her legs hitting the bed and she breaks the kiss to climb up it, Clint crawling over her, Flo’s legs opening to give him space. Her hands lightly squeeze his biceps, which feels nice but then the light from outside hits her hair a certain way and for a moment he’s transported, sees Poppy. 

His hips push against hers as his hand grips her hair, her heat enveloping him as she moans, her legs wrapping around him. He blinks and it’s Flo again, but as he works his hips against hers, the light catches every now and then in her hair, he gets flashes of Poppy.

Fuck, this feels good. It had been so long since he’d held someone, felt them touch him like this. He had been alone for too long, not letting himself live fully. He felt guilty, even with Poppy telling him to live his life. His eyes find Flo’s and he can tell she goes somewhere else occasionally too, his guilt slightly lessening at the thought he’s bringing her some comfort like she is him.

He can feel himself getting closer to the edge. He licks his fingers and snakes them between their bodies, teasing her between her legs. He can feel her starting to squirm, her breaths starting to pick up. Clint grabs her hand with his free one, lacing their fingers together as he pushes her hand into the mattress slightly above her head. Her fingers dig into his skin but the second she tightens around him he comes, burying his face in her hair. 

When he rolls off of her, Clint pulls her to him, feeling her nuzzle further into his chest before falling asleep. He stays awake a little longer, gently tracing shapes on her back as he thinks.

In the morning, just before the sun rises, he gets dressed, gathering up the handful of personal items he had. He hesitates briefly, staring down Flo as she sleeps. He presses a kiss to her head, silently thanking her for everything she had done for him before he steps out into the morning light, back into his life of violence.

A Few Months Later…

“You thought you could just kill my family and nothing would happen?” Clint twists the knife he had in the man’s leg, smirking when he screams out in pain.

“N..no!”

“Then why did you come for them?” Clint taps the knife and the man whimpers. 

“I wasn’t…we weren’t going to.” Tears were streaming down the man’s face, fear at seeing the end of his life.

“But then you decided to try and find me? Why?”

The man takes a shuddering breath. “Will you not kill me if I tell you?”

Clint grips the knife and the man cries out. “How about I’ll kill you if you don’t?”

“OK! OK!” He takes another breath, inhaling sharply through his nose. “We weren’t trying to seek revenge. But then one day, we get invited to this house and get handed everything on you. Who you are, where you live, all of it.”

Clint cocks his head. “Who gave it to you? Why?”

“They..they said they would give us a chance at revenge. Only if we promise to…to take you out.”

“Take me out. Why did you kill my wife?”

The man blinks, swallowing hard. “We were told to since she was…since your line would be carried on.”

Clint had to take several deep breaths so he didn’t turn this man inside out. He still needed one more piece of information. Someone had betrayed him, and he had a strong feeling he knew who. He swallows down his rage and looks the man in his eyes.

“Who?” He grunts it through gritted teeth and the man shivers. 

“He’ll kill me.”

Clint twists the knife hard and the man screams, jerking around against his restraints. “Who?”

The man seems to rethink his situation. “The….The Guy.”

That was the answer Clint was hoping not to hear but had a suspicion he would. It was the only thing that made sense. The Guy didn’t want him to quit, his best hitman. He knew the only way Clint would come back would be to have someone take away his new life. And The Guy made sure of that. 

Before the man could beg, Clint yanked the knife from his leg and slit his throat, waiting until the gurgling and sputtering stopped, his body still before he sighs, getting to work on cleaning up the mess. But his mind was elsewhere, planning and plotting. Which is why he didn’t hear another man coming up behind him until it was too late, his body falling sideways and slamming into the ground. 

The man gets on top of him, pulling out a knife. Clint dodges as best he can, but he does get a good knick on his shoulder. Grunting, Clint throws his body weight and the man, a lot skinnier than him, gets thrown off balance. Clint pushes up and manages to flip them, gripping the man’s wrist and slamming it against the floor, the knife clattering across the ground. No weapon in hand, Clint reaches for the man’s head, but his shoulder sends searing pain down his arm. He must have dislocated it when he hit the ground. Instead, Clint grabs the man’s hair, slamming his head into the ground until he stops moving. He gets off the man and sits for a moment to catch his breath, his shoulder throbbing.

Well this will make cleaning up suck. 

He can’t go to the hospital, but he knows he needs stitches. He can’t do it himself because of his fucking shoulder, which is just violently throbbing at this point. He knows where he can go, but should he? Finally, he gives in, knowing he has no other option. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Flo, he does. He really does. But that’s the exact reason he shouldn’t go. He doesn’t need to bring his shit to her.

He sighs, knocking on her door. It takes a moment but the door opens and there she is, almost glowing, just gorgeous. And for a moment, he’d forgotten why he was there.

“Oh! You’re bleeding!” Flo takes his hand but he jerks it back.

“Shoulder is dislocated.”

“You’re just all kinds of fun. Come on in.” 

Clint heads inside, kicking off his boots before following Flo into the kitchen. She pulls out a chair from the table and motions for him to sit down as she goes to get her med kit. She returns a moment later and sets it on the table, moving to stand next to him. 

“I take it you’ve had a dislocated shoulder before?” 

Clint looks up, her eyes big and round and he momentarily wonders why he had left. He nods, preparing himself while she gets into position, gripping him.

“Ready?”

“Just do it.”

Flo nods, looking down at his arm. “1…2…I’m pregnant.”

“What?! FUCK!” His arm pops back into place, the initial sharp pain quieting down to a dull ache. Flo hands him some pain meds and a glass of water but he pushes them away.

“What the fuck did you say?”

“Take these. You’ll need them. I’ll also sling your arm.” 

“Fuck the sling. Flo, you’re…you’re pregnant?”

She takes the sling off the table, not meeting his eyes yet. She helps him get situated in the sling and reaches for the alcohol to start dabbing at his other arm. Clint had completely forgotten about the knife gash. But before she starts, he grabs her wrist, giving it a little shake so she’ll look at him. She sighs and meets his gaze, worry etched in her face.

“I..am.”

“Who…am…am I…”

“I’ve only been with you since the accident.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He didn’t mean to get her pregnant. Fuck, this is not what either of them need. It’s not that he doesn’t want the kid. He would love to be a dad, was going to be a dad before…fuck. He has to kill The Guy or he’d find them and kill them too. FUCK. He has to protect them. Clint is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t even feel it when Flo starts to sew his wound, tying it off and putting a bandaid over it.

“You should be all set. Just try not to fuck with that shoulder too much.”

Clint’s mind clears and he focuses on the main objective: to keep Flo and his unborn child safe. He can’t let them die for him, for his mistakes. He will never let that happen again, even if it kills him.

“I’ve gotta go.” Clint abruptly stands and pushes past a bewildered Flo, grabbing his keys and closing the door gently behind him. It never occurs to him to say anything to Flo. She doesn’t need to know about this. About any of it. He’s so absorbed in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the sobs coming from inside the home as he walks away from it. 

It takes him another month to locate The Guy’s new hiding place. He imagines it would be difficult for anyone to find - anyone who doesn’t know The Guy like he does. Clint watches from his steakout point, his eyes hardening and his brain sliding into his job mode, compartmentalizing what he needs to do to protect his family. What he should’ve done before.

The bodyguards at the door hesitate when Clint walks towards them, but soon they are silenced, slumping to the ground before they even had time to draw their guns. Quietly, Clint moves inside, making his way down the hall, silencing another several guards. The Guy really needed to hire better employees. He pauses outside of what looks like a main door, listening. From inside, he hears a familiar voice, a voice that has commanded him to do so many violent things for him.    

“I don’t care what it takes, I want it done!” A phone slams down, The Guy sighs. “I swear, it’s so hard to find good help these days.” 

Clint listens for a few minutes, hearing no other movement behind the door aside from The Guy, assuming he was alone in his office. Clint takes a deep breath and stands straight, holding his gun at the ready before pushing in the door and aiming his gun directly at The Guy. When Clint enters, The Guy glances up, all color draining from his face. He was totally alone and he knew from looking at Clint that the cat was out of the bag.

“H-hey Clint. How’s retired life?”

“Why?”

Beads of sweat start to drip down The Guy’s temples. “Why what?”

“Why did you kill them?”

He seems to debate for a moment, settling on the truth instead of pretending he didn’t know. “Look man, good workers are hard to find. And you were the best. You did everything for me and so when you wanted to leave….well, you knew too much.”

“So you took out my family?”

The Guy shrugs. “I figured maybe you’d come back if you had nothing left. Besides, I couldn’t have you continuing your line if they’d go to work for someone-”

POP!

Clint fires his gun, hitting The Guy directly in the forehead, his body crumbling to the ground. He listens for a moment, but no one comes running. No one else is here. Clint lowers his gun, dropping to his knees and buries his face in his hands, wailing and screaming, as he gets closure on the last chapter of his life.

Clint stands in front of Flo’s door, hesitating for a moment before knocking. He had been sitting in front of her apartment for another 2 weeks, making sure no one was casing the joint. But no one would - Clint had taken out the remainder of The Guy’s associates. No one would be coming for them. 

The door opens and Flo stands before him looking absolutely breath taking. Her eyes widen and her mouth nearly drops on the floor.

“Clint?” She whispers it, hesitating for a moment before reaching her hand out. 

“It’s me.”

SLAP!

Clint rubs at his cheek, chuckling a little to himself at the assault. He deserved that. He deserved more than that.

“What the fuck Clint? I tell you I’m pregnant with your baby and you just leave? Not even a word?”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Flo. But I had to…had to make sure you were safe.”

“I don’t expect you to be involved, but you could’ve- safe?”

He nods. ”Can I come in?”

She studies him, her eyes somehow seeing through him and she nods, opening the door. “Lock it behind you.”

This time, he decides to tell her everything, about his past life, about what happened to Poppy, what he’d done now to protect them. How he couldn’t let it happen again, not when he has the chance to have a family again. To his surprise, when he was done, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, holding him tight. He hugs her back, swallowing down some tears and melting into her embrace. It’s several long moments before she pulls back, cupping his face with her soft, warm hands.

“It’s not your fault, Clint.”

He looks down, shrugs a little. “But-”

“You can’t control what other’s do. Poppy knew that. Why do you think her last words were of love and not revenge? She doesn’t blame you, Clint. She would want you to be happy. So, be happy. Even if…even if that’s not with us.”

His eyes snap to hers and he’s surprised to find tears there. “Do you want me to leave? I understand if you-”

“No!” She grips his face a little tighter. “No. I want you here, but I need all of you here. We need it. But if you can’t, I understand.”

“You…you want me? Even though I’ve…I’m a violent…”

She cuts him off by pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Look, I knew you were in some shit when we met. I’m not stupid. You came tumbling out of that bar stabbed and then tussled with another guy. I had to patch you up and you bled all over my floor. I figured you were in some shit. This is Oakland. But..you were also gentle with me and patient, even when I told you about my past and I thought…we had that moment and I know we were both a little in our heads during it, but it was..fuck, it was nice having someone, especially someone who..gets it. I like you, Clint. I don’t expect you to like me in the same way, but however you want to be involved in our lives, that’s fine with me.”

How the fuck did he lead such a violent and fucked up life, all the shit he’s done, and he managed to find not one but two amazing women who just cared for him despite it? Poppy never knew exactly what he did, but Clint always suspected she knew he wasn’t really a delivery driver. She just never pressed. Just carried on loving him. 

Clint reaches forward, cupping her face in his hand this time. “I want to be involved with the baby. And I’d…I’d like to see where this goes,” he gestures between them and she smiles, realizing his intent. 

“Really?”

“Really. But know that no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for both of you.”

Clint and Flo dated for a month or so before they decided it was easier to just move in together. They found a little place for their growing family, a little 2 bedroom place in a better area of town. Clint had had some extra money after taking out The Guy (and raiding his safe) and happily moved them all in. Clint is there for every weird craving, anytime she wanted something at 3am, foot massages, all of it. He loved being there for her, talking to her belly, but also being with her. Flo was the first person to help him realize that he still deserved love. And even if he didn’t believe it, he knew that Flo deserved it and he would spend the rest of his time making sure she had it. 

Their son Christopher came screaming into the world right on time. They got him cleaned up, wrapped in blankets and a little tiny hat and handed him to Clint. He gently takes Christopher in his arms, walking over to Flo who was still laying on the bed. Tears well in his eyes as he stares down at his son, Flo leaning her head on his arm and he sighs, happy that he’s finally getting the life he wanted. 

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[dontsh0vethesun]

little dove

kinktober 2022 masterlist | monstober 2022 masterlist

stepmom!wanda maximoff x virgin!reader

18+ : corruption, pervy!wanda, slight dubcon, forced kissing, loss of innocence, stepcest, implied age gap, fingering (r!receiving), possessiveness, mommy kink

You were no stranger to the beauty that your stepmother displays, long hair always perfect, button nose and glinting emerald eyes. And you were used to the way she sits so close to you, lingering touches even when you’re not alone, a darkened look in her eye that you couldn’t figure out.

She was affectionate, you’ve known that for a while. Like that time she accidentally walked in on you changing when you were 17 - she was only bringing you the clothes she’d so kindly laundered for you. Or when she shut the door to the bathroom whilst you were showering, saying you must’ve accidentally left it ajar. She was only ever looking out for you.

Long hugs were her way of showing you she cared for you, firm eye contact when she pulls away and a caring stroke of her thumb over your cheek. And that time she bought you lingerie, saying a 19 year old girl should have some, it was a gift she was kind enough to spend money on. She’d nodded in reassurance when you stripped in front of her and her hands musingly stroked over your skin.

You looked to her nervously but she only nodded. “Carry on, baby. You’re my stepdaughter, it’s fine - this is how I show how I care for you okay?”

“Okay. Thank you, Wanda.” You’d smiled and she’d complimented your lace underwear covered body, barely taking her eyes off you.

She sat beside you on the sofa after fetching you both a glass of wine, her knee nudged against yours and you could smell her perfume from her closeness, you both sipped on the earthy liquid in comfortable company.

“So, do you have any plans this weekend?” She asked you with a smile.

“Yes actually. I, um, I have a date.” You missed the tight clenching of her jaw at your answer and the angered heating of her cheeks.

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah, y’know Carol? She asked me out last week.” She loved the sight of your grin but the contrasting anger waged a war in her stomach, tightening, forcing herself to not let the acid drip from her tongue.

“Where’re you going?”

“Just to see a movie - I’m really nervous. I’ve never been on a date before. I’ve not even had my first kiss yet.”

“Oh I know, honey.” She cooed with a rub of your arm and a gentle smile.

“I just don’t wanna be bad at it. I don’t even know the first thing about sleeping with another person.” You added shyly. “I just-“

You were cut off by hands holding either side of your face and Wanda’s lips crashing into yours. You yelped at the sudden action, lips unmoving against her harsh ones until you pushed her away.

“Wanda. What’re you doing? We can't do this - it's not right.” You rushed out, unable to move yourself free of her tight grasp on your waist.

“C’mon, honey. I can teach you.” She breathed and you felt her lips ghost over yours with her words before you closed the space. Your lips melded with hers tentatively, curiously with slow movements you’d only seen in movies.

Your hands awkwardly rested on her hips whilst hers cupped your face, holding the back of your head to keep you close. You sighed into her mouth when she pulled away with a bite to your bottom lip, a sound that surprised you both.

“Don’t be shy, sweet girl.” Wanda reassured you when you ducked your head to hide your face, a finger beneath your chin brought you back. “You're doing so good.”

This time when she kissed you it was harsher, you kept up with the pace she set, passionate movements of soft lips against one another. Her tongue pushed into your mouth, nudging against yours deliciously and you instinctively pulled her ever closer, feeling her mouth curve into a smile at the action.

Everything was growing more hungry and Wanda pulled you onto her lap, your knees planted into the sofa cushions either side of her thighs and your arms draped over her shoulders. You’d never felt this hot feeling before, where your skin is warm and flushed and your belly swarmed with a twinge you’ve not yet known.

She pulled you against her by your hips so your chest pressed against hers, you felt yourself grow even warmer at the feeling of her hardened nipples poking through her t-shirt and the tiniest moan at the back of her throat when you instinctively clutched at her hair in your fist.

You only parted to catch your breath with Wanda looking up at you with a darkened gaze you’d never noticed before, hooded eyelids and parted swollen lips. Heat was growing between your legs and you subconsciously bucked your hips into hers when she planted a kiss to your neck, her teeth sank into the flesh with a suck, soothing the bite with a lick of her tongue.

Whilst she kissed across your throat your head leaned back in pleasure and your hands wandered over her waist, she revelled in the feeling - Wanda had wanted to get her hands on you for years.

She’d wanted to ruin you, dirty you to anyone else before they could get to you. She wanted to be the one to fuck you first, to show you how good you can feel and anybody after her could never compare. She saw how pure you were, she knew you’d never been kissed, never been fucked - never even fucked yourself on your fingers. You were a clean slate, pure and untouched and Wanda was desperate to turn you into the slut she wants you to be. To have you whining underneath her, begging her to fuck you.

She nudged your hand upwards and when you nervously stilled your touch she placed it onto her breast herself.

“Go on, honey. Touch them.” She whispered, sighing against your skin at the feeling of your hands around them, fingertips pinching her nipples through her shirt. She was quick to pull her shirt from her body, smirking at the awe in your eyes when you looked at her, experimentally flicking your thumb over a pert nipple before risking a kiss to her neck.

You kissed beneath her ear just as she had done to you, letting your teeth graze the flesh in a way that made her sigh, tilting her head for you to carry on. The smell of her skin, the warmth of her pulse point under your lips, the soft touch of her hands on your back made you hungry for something you’d never craved before. The ache between your thighs was unbearable and the way her thigh nudged against you didn’t help matters.

Wanda could tell you were getting needy, she dragged her hand up the back of your thigh whilst you kissed across her collarbone, making you yelp slightly when she roughly cupped your clothed cunt in her palm.

“W-wanda. I’ve never-“

“That’s okay, sweetheart. Let mommy take care of it, hm?” Before you could finish nodding, her hand had pushed into your shorts and a finger slid through your folds. “Oh baby, you’re so wet for me.” She breathed, watching your teeth bite into your bottom lip when she rubbed a fingertip over your swollen clit, your pussy was dripping around her fingers as they easily pushed into your hole, warm around her fingers when she started a steady pace.

“Feels so good.” You muttered against her, sloppy kisses to her neck while you mindlessly toyed with her nipple as she arched into your touch, your hips grinding yourself onto her hand desperately.

“You’re doing so well for your mommy, honey. Just a little more.” She could feel you beginning to clench around her digits, so worked up and desperate, body starting to twitch with choked moans at the thumb over your clit and the fingers curling perfectly inside your pussy.

Wanda had been waiting for this moment and she basked in it, the sound of your moan right next to her ear, your nails digging into the flesh of her waist, the wetness of your slick dripping down her knuckles as you came. She’d been wanting to make you unravel like this for so long and she wasn’t about to let it escape her grasp, this wouldn’t be the last time she sees it tonight, let alone any days to come. You’re hers now, you’d be begging for this any day soon, she’s sure of it.

You were still catching your breath when she spoke again.

“Come with me upstairs, sweetheart - I can make you feel so good again.” She helped you up from the sofa, pulling you to her to hover her lips over yours. “Don’t even think about going out with Carol - you’re not going.”

[jinjinxedsoul]

When The Sun Loved The Moon - Aegon II Targaryen

CHAPTER 4. QUEEN OF LOVE AND BEAUTY

130 AC

The swords clashed with force, and the metallic sound made the youngest of the brothers cover his ears. The man holding him in his arms chuckled at seeing him so annoyed by such trivialities.

“I want to fight too!” exclaimed one of the princes, looking at the older one.

“You already fought with Jaella and she left you lying on the ground.”

“Be more careful!” complained the silver-haired girl, pushing her older brother while rubbing her jaw.

“In the battlefield, no one is careful, princess,” Sir Erryk reminded her.

The teenager rolled her eyes and then threw her sword away, raising her hands in surrender as Jacaerys laughed at her, earning a new punch to the stomach.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Jaella complained, sitting next to Daemon. “Can you remind me why it was agreed that I should be trained in combat?”

“Something had to be done with your temperament,” Daemon shrugged. “Besides, I prefer that you know how to defend yourself rather than just be a pretty face, bear children, and smile.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked, looking at him with a surprised expression.

“You’re insufferable, Jaella.”

“But pretty, right?”

“Too pretty for your own good,” he added, not losing the irony in his voice. “That’s why you need to know how to handle a sword.”

Over time, Jaella’s relationship with Daemon improved, moving from individualism to starting to see each other as a complete family. Jaella hadn’t said it out loud yet, but she was beginning to consider Daemon as a father.

“I won’t let my sister have to pick up a sword to defend herself,” Jacaerys spoke firmly.

“And what would you do in the event of a war, boy? When you’re short on hands and swords, you’ll wish to draw support from the rocks themselves.”

“It doesn’t matter if the bloodiest war in history breaks out, I’ll make sure that my mother, my wife, and my sister never have to fight.”

“I’m very grateful for that, my sweet child,” their mother’s voice drew everyone’s attention.

Princess Rhaenyra walked over to them, lifting little Joffrey, who had jumped from Daemon’s lap the moment his mother arrived.

“I’m glad to see you’ve finished your duties for the day,” Rhaenyra announced. “We’re expecting a visitor this afternoon, and I would like everyone to be available to receive him.”

“A visitor?” Jacaerys asked, frowning.

“Your uncle Aegon is coming from King’s Landing.”

The news hit Jaella like a bucket of cold water, and her gaze instinctively sought her mother’s, who gave her a reassuring smile. It had been quite a while since she last saw Aegon; however, they continued to exchange messages whenever they could. Over the past few moons, those messages had carried repressed feelings and words she wouldn’t dare say aloud in front of anyone, but which involved Aegon’s promise to claim her maidenhood before it was taken by another.

Her heart raced, well aware that her uncle’s promises were not mere empty words; it was a silent pact she had happily accepted, but which filled her with a nearly suffocating nervousness.

She found herself both eagerly anticipating and dreading Aegon’s arrival, but there was little she could do to avoid it.

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She ran her hands over the fabric of her dress once more. During her childhood and even a few years ago, Jaella had almost religiously worn the blue colors of her late father's house. But as she grew, she favored rich burgundy fabrics with black and gold accents. The blue had almost disappeared from her drawers, though she still wore it when she missed Laenor.

That day, taking advantage of the slightly warmer weather in Dragonstone, she dared to wear one of her few short-sleeved dresses with a neckline that revealed her shoulders and collarbones. The burgundy color stood out against her siblings' darker outfits. Her hair, usually worn up, was left loose, with only a braid on the sides.

It was obvious to everyone that Jaella was trying to enhance her beauty for Aegon, though no one mentioned it, even though Jacaerys seemed particularly annoyed by all the attention his sister was lavishing on herself.

When they reached the stone steps, Sunfyre had already landed, and the prince, clad in emerald robes, dismounted from his dragon with ease. It was clear that time had been kind to Aegon, as his features were becoming much more mature and his bearing was now that of a man. Though he wasn’t very tall, he was considerably taller than the young Velaryon, who barely surpassed Lucerys' height.

Aegon seemed quite uncomfortable visiting a place he wasn’t used to and that his mother had insisted he avoid. However, when his gaze met Jaella’s, everything else seemed to fade into the background. Violet met violet, quickening his heart and drawing a bright smile from her.

“I hope your journey was comfortable, Prince,” Rhaenyra said as she approached.

“As comfortable as a dragon ride can be,” he replied with a half-smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Why have you come to my home with such short notice?” Daemon seemed quite distrustful of Aegon’s visit, but Rhaenyra quelled his hostility with a glance.

“I’m sure Prince Aegon has a good reason for his visit, doesn’t he?”

Despite the princess Rhaenyra’s diplomacy, the younger brother could sense his sister’s nervousness and the subtle yet urgent way she was asking for answers.

“I’ve come as a messenger,” Aegon hurried to clarify. “Our father wishes to celebrate Princess Jaella’s nameday with a tournament, and at its conclusion, he plans to finally celebrate the wedding of my sister to Prince Jacaerys.”

Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, momentarily relieved by her half-brother’s visit; her muscles relaxed, and a smile spread across her face.

“That is excellent news,” the elder princess exclaimed. “I’ve arranged for a room to be prepared for you so you can rest from your journey. We are about to have supper.”

Although the dragon ride from King’s Landing to Dragonstone was not very long, the hospitality of the family was always to be well received. Despite what his mother might say, the young prince did not mind the idea of spending the night or even a couple of days at his sister’s home, especially since there was something more than the roasted pig in plum sauce at dinner that demanded his attention.

Dinner proceeded without major issues; in fact, one could say that Aegon, Rhaenyra, and especially Daemon put aside their differences to enjoy a meal like any family that hadn’t been consumed by the flames of discord. Rhaenyra noticed that her half-brother was also very different from how he was around Alicent, and this sparked an idea in her mind.

“Feel free to stay as long as you like. If possible, you can stay until the day we travel to King’s Landing for the celebration,” she offered.

“That’s a very generous offer,” the prince smiled, taking a sip of his wine. “But I’m afraid I can only stay a couple of days, or my mother will go mad.”

“Then feel free to do as you please. The island isn’t very large; I’m sure you’ll be able to visit the best spots during your stay,” the elder princess offered. “I’m sure Princess Jaella can give you a good tour; she knows this place better than anyone.”

Jaella held her breath at her mother’s suggestion. Throughout dinner, she had remained silent, aware of the furtive glances Aegon cast her way from time to time. It was all very strange, as she had never felt this way before, as if the mere attention of the prince was burning her.

“Of course, Mother,” she finally replied, forcing a smile that she hoped appeared natural. “It will be a pleasure to show the prince the secrets of our island.”

Daemon chuckled, fully aware of the double meaning that Jaella’s words might imply. The prince didn’t seem too pleased with the idea, but since the young woman’s mother was in favor, Daemon had little say in the matter.

“It will be a pleasure, Princess,” Aegon said in a soft voice, his tone laced with insinuation, which did not go unnoticed by any of the present.

Jaella looked down, her face turning red almost immediately, and her insides twisted with a mix of nervousness and excitement. She definitely wasn’t sure how she would face what was coming.

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“I thought you’d wait until morning to ask for a tour,” the princess declared.

Aegon had called for her shortly after dinner, asking her to take him on a tour of the garden. The prince knew little about Dragonstone, but he had heard from his father that the fortress’s garden was named after the Conqueror, just like him, so he had been curious to see it.

“I have been deprived of seeing the things I delight in for too long.”

From the moment her uncle had set foot in the castle, there had not been a moment when her cheeks did not flush, whether from Aegon’s subtle comments or the way his gaze seemed to see through her very soul.

“Then I won’t make you wait any longer.”

The prince’s smile widened, but he said nothing, simply following the path Jaella showed him, which was not very long. There was a certain excitement spreading through his chest at the thought of soon being away from the curious eyes of the servants, alone with her after having spent so much time apart.

They arrived at the Conqueror's Garden, where the silence was only broken by the gentle sound of water from the fountain in the center. The air was filled with the scent of pine, and the red of the wild roses and the berries growing there stood out vividly against the darkness of the night.

“It’s more beautiful than I imagined,” Aegon murmured, taking a deep breath and filling his lungs with the scent. “It’s darker too.”

“Everything in Dragonstone is darker than in other places,” she said with a smile, passing by him before approaching the fountain, sitting at its edge and playing with her fingers in the water.

“Sometimes darkness has its own charm.” The prince decided to sit beside her, quickly taking her hand and bringing it to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the back, which elicited a sigh from the young woman. “I longed to see you again.”

“Dragonstone isn’t that far from King’s Landing,” she said as if reproaching him. “By dragon, the journey is even shorter.”

“It’s not the distance that kept me from visiting you,” he smiled, caressing her hand without letting go, keeping it on his lap. “As time goes by, my mother keeps finding new responsibilities for me; the more occupied I am, the better it is for her.”

“I thought you were more rebellious than that.”

Aegon let out a small laugh that made Jaella smile.

“I thought that if I fulfilled my duties diligently, perhaps my father would see me differently and maybe... accept our betrothal,” he spoke so quickly that Jaella had trouble understanding what he was saying.

“Our? Yours and mine?”

“Why does it sound like a surprise to you? I think I’ve made it quite clear that I want you to be my wife.”

“It sounds like a surprise because the letters I receive from my friends at court paint you as a completely different person,” she said with a soft laugh. “They surely wouldn’t believe that Prince Aegon wants to get married.”

“Do those friends include Harland Arryn?” he asked, curiosity laced with what sounded like jealousy.

“If you’re worried about the messages I might share with Harland, you can dismiss it from your mind; yours are infinitely more... appreciated.”

A mischievous smile appeared on Aegon’s lips as he vividly recalled the contents of those letters, and Jaella blushed, or at least that’s what he thought from the way she seemed to avert her gaze nervously.

Aegon stood up and gently tugged on Jaella’s hand to get her to stand as well, which she did immediately. The prince pulled her closer to him, looking her up and down with a scrutinizing gaze. To him, there was no woman more beautiful in the Seven Kingdoms than his niece, and he wasn’t sure when he started considering her this way, but he knew he was right, and if anyone dared to question it, he himself would tear their tongue out... In fact, he had done it once before, with one of the women he was with in a brothel.

That woman had boasted that the prince had chosen her because she was the most beautiful girl in that place, even calling herself more beautiful than the Valyrian pearl, which made Aegon furious. He imposed severe punishment on her for even daring to compare herself with his Jaella.

“I’m glad to hear that” he murmured, placing one of his hands on the younger girl's cheek “That means you've taken everything I've said seriously”

She wanted to answer, but her throat seemed to be completely closed so she simply nodded softly, Aegon smiled even more and, unable to hold back, joined his lips with Jaella's. It had been too long since they had last kissed, but it was clear that there was a difference in the way they had done it then.

This time the kiss was more demanding, more passionate compared to the first one he had given her, Jaella had to search for some air in the middle of the kiss, her lips opened a little and Aegon took advantage of this to force his tongue into his niece's mouth; she was not so expert in the art of kissing due to the lack of a companion, but she tried to keep up with the pace he imposed on her

The prince’s hands were clasped tightly around her waist, gripping her as if she might escape or disappear, and Aegon had been a victim of that in his most pleasant dreams, where, in the end, Jaella always vanished.

He pulled away from her a moment later, only to bring his lips to Jaella’s neck. She was still wearing the dress from that afternoon, the one that exposed her collarbones, a sight that had driven him mad since his arrival. He had wanted to kiss her neck and mark it relentlessly so that anyone who even glimpsed Jaella’s skin would immediately know it belonged to him.

Jaella shivered at the contact of his lips on her skin. It was the first time someone had touched her this way. A sigh escaped her as Aegon began to trace a path of wet kisses from her neck down to the line of her dress, which was low enough to graze the top of her breasts.

"Aegon..."

The way she whispered his name, with a blend of desire and insecurity, made him smile against her skin. He knew this was an unfamiliar path for his niece, and though he wanted to be the first to lead her down it, he was aware of everything it entailed.

The words he had written in all those letters came back to her mind, making her tremble slightly, realizing that there was nothing she could do to escape the situation. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be with Aegon in every possible way, but she feared she might not be good enough for him.

Sensing the tension in her body, Aegon lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes. His hands remained still on her waist, tracing small circles with his thumbs to calm her.

"Shh..."

“You said…”

“...that I would take you?” He asked, and when she nodded, he added, “And I meant it.”

One of his hands moved up to her face, gently caressing it and then tucking the stray locks of hair that had fallen over it. He smiled at her and couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her once more.

“But I’m not going to take you here,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper. Jaella looked at him in confusion. “You’re not a whore or a maid. I don’t want to take you the way I take others. If one day you are to be my wife, I want to know that when you gave yourself to me for the first time, it was of your own will. I want to know that you chose it that way because that’s what you want.”

The princess swallowed heavily, processing the weight of his words. Aegon, whom everyone described as carefree and libertine, was showing her a side that no one else seemed to know. A side that made her feel special but also frightened her, as it implied an emotional responsibility she wasn’t sure she could handle.

“Besides, a mere garden is not what you deserve,” he said, still caressing her face. “Do you trust me?”

Jaella nodded firmly; there was no reason for it to be otherwise. Aegon had never given her a reason not to trust him, and despite all the gossip surrounding the prince, Jaella trusted him completely.

“That’s all I need right now.”

═════𖠁 ═════

“Congratulations, my prince, your performance in combat has improved considerably,” Sir Criston complimented from the ground, defeated by Aegon. “In a few months, you’ll be able to compete formidable against your brother.”

Aemond chuckled, a laugh quickly joined by Harland Arryn, who had recently joined the princes’ training sessions.

“I don’t have a few months,” Aegon complained once Sir Criston had left, not wanting him to hear anything.

“Why are you so anxious to become a good fighter, my prince?” Harland asked with his usual mocking tone.

“Don’t call me that,” Aegon requested with a grimace of annoyance. “We shared a woman at the brothel some time ago.”

Harland laughed, clearly entertained by the anecdotes the prince considered as a sign of closeness between them.

“Aegon wants to win the tournament that will take place in a few days, at Jaella’s name day celebration,” Aemond spoke up, interrupting his brother’s chatter as he didn’t want to hear any more. “To crown her as the Queen of Love and Beauty in front of everyone.”

Young Arryn raised his eyebrows playfully, earning a disapproving glance from Aegon.

“So that’s what this is all about?” Harland asked. Aegon remained silent, but to Harland, it was confirmation. “Don’t you think that might be a little… disrespectful to your betrothed?”

“She’s not my betrothed.”

Aegon was irritated by people referring to that graceless girl as his betrothed, especially since she wasn’t. She was a Tyrell girl his mother had found for him, invited to the tournament as a way to push a match between them; the girl’s family had arrived a couple of weeks earlier because Alicent wanted her son to develop some affinity for her before Jaella’s arrival. This, of course, was not working, as Aegon had refused to even spend a moment in her company.

“And you’re just going to publicly show your disdain for the engagement?” Aemond asked. “What about Lady Laisa’s honor?”

“That’s her name?” Aegon asked with a frown, clearly uninterested. Aemond rolled his eyes. “Lady Laisa’s honor matters little to me, and of course, I won’t be honoring her by crowning her at the tournament.”

“What will Mother say?”

“She’s already said enough,” the elder cut him off with a heavy sigh. “Don’t you think it would be a bit disrespectful not to crown the princess, considering the celebration is in her honor?”

“I think Prince Aegon is right,” Harland agreed, crossing his arms. “It’s well known that Princess Jaella enjoys that kind of attention. We don’t want to provoke a tantrum on such an important day.”

“And couldn’t any of us crown her with that honor?” Aemond seemed determined not to let his brother embarrass their house.

“I’m sure the princess would prefer it to be Prince Aegon who honors her,” Aegon smiled at Harland’s supportive words. The brunette placed a hand on Aemond’s shoulder and continued, “We’ll make sure you’re the one who wins the tournament.”

═════𖠁 ═════

The silver-haired prince withdrew his hand from beneath the skirts of the young Tyrell, glancing around to ensure no one had seen them. The corridor seemed deserted, and he relaxed a little. The girl smiled and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

“Will you come to my room tonight?” she asked with a mischievous grin.

“If that’s what you want,” he replied, barely smiling.

“This might be the last night we can spend together. After tomorrow, I’ll likely be betrothed to your brother.”

“He doesn’t want to be betrothed to you,” he said coldly. “Why not avoid the drama and change the course of the engagement? I’m sure your father would be pleased with either of us. If you ask him to betroth you to me…”

The girl’s laughter interrupted him, a genuine burst of mirth that irritated Aemond enough to darken his expression.

“I came here to be promised to a future king. Why would I settle for marrying you when I could be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Aemond was not one to develop strong feelings, let alone romantic ones, but her words had certainly bruised his ego, and the sting in his chest was sharp.

“Aemond the One-Eyed, what would people think of me if I married you?”

“Lady Tyrell has a sharp tongue.”

Aemond immediately turned upon hearing that voice, a voice he hadn’t heard in a good number of years but always remembered consoling him when other children teased him.

“Princess Jaella,” the girl hastily greeted, with a curtsy that Jaella regarded with disdain.

“Quite a bold choice of words,” Jaella criticized, Aemond looked away. “Are you disrespecting my uncle? In my view, you’d be very fortunate to marry him.”

“I only… I’ve been promised to your uncle Aegon, Princess, and I…”

Jaella quickly glanced at Aemond for confirmation, and he shook his head slightly.

“Not yet,” murmured the prince, causing Lady Laisa’s face to flush with anger.

Jaella let out a small laugh that only served to further unsettle the other girl.

“Do you dare to boast a title you don’t yet possess, Lady Tyrell?” Jaella’s laughter became louder, and Lady Laisa’s eyes began to fill with tears. “Perhaps you should remember that a woman’s fate is not always as secure as she might like to think.”

“The Queen said that Prince Aegon and I…”

“It doesn’t matter what the Queen has said,” Jaella interrupted. “If I want it, you’ll never marry him, and if you do, I’ll make sure there isn’t a single peaceful day in your entire marriage. I’ll sleep in your bed, with your husband, and raise your children as my own.”

Laisa couldn’t help but sob, overwhelmed by despair. The princess had made it clear that she not only had the power but also the intention to destroy any hope Laisa might have had for a future with Aegon.

Aemond was clearly surprised by the fierceness with which Jaella, who was usually serene, spoke. He well knew that the princess often reacted abruptly when her family was mentioned or threatened, especially if those matters were related to her favorite uncle.

“I hope my words have been clear,” Jaella said, feigning a smile that contrasted with the devastated expression of the maiden. “Shall we, uncle?”

The prince nodded and, without giving Lady Tyrell a single glance, offered his arm for Jaella to take.

═════𖠁 ═════

“Are you alright?” the princess asked as they arrived at the garden.

Aemond made a barely audible noise as he nodded, feeling suddenly embarrassed that it was Jaella who had come to his rescue as if he couldn’t defend himself.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said seriously, but the Velaryon’s smile didn’t fade.

Jaella, like her mother, used to show her affection by gently holding people’s faces, which she did with Aemond at that moment. No one had ever touched him with such genuine affection. Perhaps his mother did, but her touch wasn’t as gentle as Jaella’s, and the women he had been with had only done so because they were paid.

“Family should look after each other,” she murmured. “If your brother and your mother won’t, then I will.”

A gentle caress on Aemond’s cheek made him sigh and close his eye, feeling momentarily content with that display of affection.

He didn’t say it explicitly, but he decided that he should also defend his niece if the opportunity arose. Although he was supposed to be loyal only to his siblings and mother, Jaella had consoled him many more times and with much more encouraging words, so he had a certain affection for her.

“The gods have been kind to you,” Jaella murmured after a few seconds. “You have a handsome face.”

“Not more handsome than Aegon’s for you, I suppose,” Jaella’s face turned crimson, and Aemond smiled broadly. “I’m just teasing you.”

Jaella let go of his face and gave him a light tap on the chest that made him laugh. It was rare to hear him laugh, but no less pleasant.

“The ladies of the court don’t find me as attractive with this patch, not that it bothers me, of course. But they would surely be horrified if I took it off.”

A wave of regret washed over Jaella as she recalled the reason for the loss of his eye, but she managed to stay calm.

“I would like to see it, if that doesn’t offend you.”

“It doesn’t offend me. I wear the scar with pride; after all, I won Vhagar that day.”

Aemond placed his hands on his face and skillfully removed the patch. Jaella held her breath, bracing herself to see the empty socket she expected, but she was pleasantly surprised when the blue sparkle of a sapphire gleamed beneath her uncle’s eyelids.

The princess’s fingers immediately traveled to Aemond’s face, gently caressing the scar that adorned his features, giving him a more imposing appearance.

“Symeon Star-Eyes,” she whispered, still marveling at the gem. “It’s a story that…”

“I’ve read it.”

The prince was quite surprised. Since Jaella had left King’s Landing, Aegon had been trying to get closer to him, spending several nights reading in his chambers. Among the many tales they had read, one of his favorites was indeed that of Symeon Star-Eyes, with which he had strongly identified after losing his eye.

The fact that Jaella knew the story made him understand why Aegon seemed so enthusiastic when telling it, and the fact that his brother had chosen to share it with him made him feel special and appreciated, something that had been difficult for him to achieve before. Aemond knew how important Jaella was to Aegon and how protective he was of their affairs, so this came as a pleasant surprise to the prince.

There was a moment of silence as Aemond readjusted the patch over his eye. Then Jaella cleared her throat and spoke, trying to bring closure to the matter that had brought them together.

“I won’t tell anyone about Laisa, especially not Aegon.”

“Aegon knows,” he said simply. She looked at him, puzzled.

“I thought he would be a bit more territorial about the woman who will be his wife.”

A burst of laughter escaped Aemond’s lips, causing Jaella to frown, unsure why her uncle found it so amusing.

“Even I, with just one eye, see things more clearly than you, niece. Aegon will not take a wife who isn’t you, and if he were to do so, that poor woman would never know what it’s like to be respected by her husband.”

“Do you think Aegon would go against his mother’s wishes?”

“Aegon has never really cared about anything except for you, of course. Do you think he would be willing to fight for an honor that means so little to him when he could fight for you, who seems to be the only anchor he clings to?”

She wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, but she adored Aegon, and as long as he was willing to challenge anything for her, Jaella could only repay him with the same level of loyalty.

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The atmosphere in the arena was filled with joy, the cheers deafening the ears of those present, but their spirits remained undiminished.

In the royal box sat the Targaryen family, accompanied by some of their most esteemed guests, including Laisa Tyrell, dressed in the green and gold colors of House Hightower. Rhaenyra’s family wore the characteristic black and red, except for Jaella and Jacaerys, who wore precious blue garments given to them by their grandfather in tribute to House Velaryon.

On the lapels of Jacaerys’s suit were embroidered silhouettes of Vermax and Dreamfyre with beautiful silver thread, symbolizing his union with Helaena. Jaella also wore an embroidered bodice, adorned with pearls and symbolic figures of those close to her, including, to the surprise of many, the beautiful golden embroidery of Sunfyre’s silhouette. This enraged the queen when she saw it and earned Laisa a few apologies from her.

Jaella couldn’t care less about the presence of the young Tyrell, knowing with certainty that no one was paying attention to her and that all focus was on her and her brother.

“What will they do first?” the young Velaryon whispered, leaning toward Jacaerys, who was sitting next to her.

“The jousts.”

Jaella made a face, as she had never been a fan of those violent games. Although she knew they were tradition, they always worried her more than entertained her.

“Do you know who will be participating?” asked Helaena, who was sitting on the other side of Jacaerys. Jaella shook her head slightly.

“My two brothers and Harland Arryn. They’ve been training quite a lot.”

The fact that Aegon would be participating filled her with a mix of emotions ranging from worry and pride to nervousness and excitement.

The knights were announced, and Daemon watched with amusement as his stepdaughter adjusted herself to get a better view of the young prince. He extended his mockery by glancing at Alicent while grinning unabashedly.

The first joust was announced, between Prince Aemond and a knight of House Baratheon. The Targaryen prince approached the royal box with his lance in hand and his helmet resting on his lap.

“I would like to request the favor of Lady Laisa,” he exclaimed. “Surely the goodwill of my future sister will help me win these games.”

Alicent’s face flushed, as it wasn’t supposed to be Aemond who made that request. The young Tyrell looked at the queen for a few seconds and didn’t rise until she nodded.

“Good luck, my prince,” she said, sliding the small garland of foliage around his lance.

Laisa’s gaze shifted to Aegon, hoping that he might at least be looking at her inquisitively, but the eyes of Alicent’s eldest son were fixed on someone else.

The combat was exciting, showcasing the prince Aemond’s great skills. Jaella and Helaena clapped enthusiastically when he was declared the winner. Alicent also looked proud, while lady Laisa seemed uninterested in the matter.

“Prince Aegon of House Targaryen will choose his opponent!” they announced.

Jaella sat almost at the edge of her seat, feeling a knot form in her stomach due to nervousness.

Alicent was also nervous, causing her to damage the skin of her fingers. Aemond had asked for the favor of his brother’s future bride, and she feared that Aegon might ask for Jaella’s favor. That would only earn them the resentment of the Tyrells, which they did not need. However, what Aegon did was even worse, for once he was at the foot of the royal tribune, he did not stand before Jaella but before her mother.

“I wish for the favor of my sister, Princess Rhaenyra, to win this tournament.”

The murmurs were immediate, and the princess seemed as surprised as anyone around her. Alicent wanted to get up and leave, feeling the penetrating gaze of her own father on her back, which contrasted with the bright smile that adorned the decrepit face of King Viserys.

Rhaenyra smiled widely, immediately rising to take one of the floral crowns. Aegon gave a slight nod when their eyes met.

“May the light of the warrior be with you in this contest, brother,” she said, still smiling as she slid the crown around his lance.

The crowd erupted in exclamations of joy. This was the first time Princess Rhaenyra referred to Aegon as her brother and not as her half-brother, which was seen by outsiders as a sign of goodwill and reconciliation between the houses. However, those closer to the situation knew that things were not as simple as they seemed.

And Alicent was sure that this simple act would cost her dearly someday.

═════𖠁 ═════

Several more matches took place as the afternoon progressed. Jaella had given her favor to the young Arryn, whom she saw was blessed by the gods with an incredible physical appearance and the gift of excelling in the art of combat. However, despite several knights standing out throughout the tournament, it was Prince Aegon who was declared the winner.

Alicent, whose irritation had lessened over the course of the event, smiled softly at Laisa, silently reminding her of what she had said earlier that morning. The queen had assured her that Aegon would crown her as queen of love and beauty if he was chosen as the victor, and she had said this with such certainty because her own son had told her so.

Aegon had the tiara brought out with which he would crown the maiden. Usually, it was a beautiful crown of flowers, but for this occasion, and aiming to irritate the honoree, Alicent had commissioned a fine silver tiara with intricate patterns resembling branches and leaves on the sides, joined at the front by a crescent moon adorned with a single precious stone.

The crowd watched with anticipation as Aegon, with the tiara in hand, made his way towards the tribune. Once there, he flashed everyone a bright smile and then approached the edge of the platform.

“I want to give this tiara to the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, whom someday I will take as my legitimate wife and with whom I am destined to share my life.”

Aegon turned, looking at his mother and the young Tyrell, both of whom wore satisfied smiles. In the girl's eyes, there was a singular sparkle that the prince categorized as one full of hope and excitement. The silver-haired prince gave an almost awkward bow to his mother and then passed by, heading directly to Jaella's seat.

The heart of the young Velaryon quickened as she watched her uncle walk decisively towards her. She knew that this gesture could mean a great deal to everyone present, both in negative and positive ways, but that thought took a back seat as her enthusiasm was much greater than her concern.

With a firm gesture, Aegon lifted the delicate silver tiara and placed it on Jaella’s head. The attendees erupted in jubilant exclamations that the princess barely heard, as her attention was solely focused on Aegon, who smiled with enthusiasm as he finally crowned her.

The prince took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it, his eyes still locked on Jaella’s.

When he pulled away from her, Aegon, for the first time, did not search for his mother with his gaze. Instead, his attention focused on Rhaenyra and Daemon.

His sister, who was observing the act with a mixture of surprise and emotion, met Aegon's steady gaze. Her expression softened into a smile that seemed to hold both pride and an unspoken promise. Daemon, for his part, gave the young prince a satisfied smile while applauding the bravery of his nephew. A subtle nod was all that the younger prince needed to know he had done the right thing.

This gesture from Aegon was more than just a declaration of love; it was an affirmation of his will, one that would resonate in the days to come.

[lenisoldi]

Request/Genes Reaction

Masterlist

!TW!: Selfharming!

BoB boys reaction to your selfharming:

Welshy:

His cheerful expression dropped as he took a sharp intake of breath. His heart pounded hard in his chest as he reached out a steady hand, placing it gently on your shoulder. Harry's eyes were wide and serious, a rare sight, and he looked straight into yours, genuine concern etched into his features. "Hey," he said softly, "What's goin' on here? We need to talk about this." He had seen the scars before, but never fresh ones like these. He bit his lower lip nervously, trying to find the right words. How could anyone hurt themselves like this? His mind raced as he fought back a wave of protective anger. He remembered the countless times he had seen his comrades in pain, but this was different, more personal somehow. He felt helpless, yet determined to do something, anything to make it better.

Dick:

His heart skipped a beat as he carefully observed the faint lines etched on her skin. He'd seen plenty of injuries during war, but these were different - they weren't inflicted by an enemy; they were self-inflicted, hidden behind layers of uniforms and camaraderie. He gently reached out to touch her arm, his voice steady but tinged with concern. "What happened here?" He asked quietly, hoping he wasn't overstepping any boundaries. His cheerful demeanor momentarily faded, replaced by a look of deep worry. He'd known pain himself, but this... this was something entirely different. Oh God, how did I miss this? She's hurting herself, and I didn't even know. He thought to himself. "Come here." He pulled his wife into a deep hug.

Bill:

"Whoa!" Bill Guarnere exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm. His gaze landed squarely on the bloodied patches of your skin, the sight instantly draining the humor from his face. The cockiness momentarily disappeared as he took a few steps closer to you, eyes narrowing with concern. He clenched his jaw, struggling to find words as the gravity of the situation sank in. "Jesus Christ, what happened here?" he finally managed to ask, his voice gruff but gentle. His demeanor shifted from carefree to serious in a heartbeat, showing the protective side of him that usually only came out around those close to him. He reached out a hand tentatively, stopping just short of touching your arm, unsure if you needed space or comfort. „I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Bill." You cried, but just took you in his arms. „Shh, shh, hey, hey, it's ok, baby, look at me, it's ok. Just let's forget about this." He said and kissed your forehead.

Sparky:

Speirs raised an eyebrow in visible concern and then pulled you aside from the other men.  “Do you mind tellin’ me where those scars are from, Y/N?” He said to you in a calming manner, and yet you could see the hint of worry in his eyes. You didn't answer and just covered your arms. Speirs gently removed your hands from your arms, frowning at the sight of the scars. "Baby..” He sighed. “You know you can talk to me?” He said in a softer voice, looking into your eyes with a kind expression. He then pulled you into a gentle embrace, wrapping his arms around you carefully. You just began to cry and sob quietly. "Baby, don't cry, it's ok. Hey, look at me, it's ok." Ron gently took your face in his hands so you would look at him. “I don't know why..." Your voice broke and you just sobbed even more than before. “Speak to me.. Speak to me when you feel the urge to do it again next time. Promise it me, promise me that you will speak to me." He spoke, still looking into your eyes, his expression soft and loving. You nodded and added nearly inaudible: "I promise... I promise.." “I love you, darling. I love you so much.“ Ron whispered, kissing you on the forehead, and then on the lips.

Babe:

Babe looked at you with deep concern on his face as he noticed the unmistakable signs of self-harm. It ached his heart to see the pain behind your eyes. In a soft, gentle voice, he asked, "What's wrong, love? Why are you hurting yourself?" His words were filled with genuine care and understanding, careful not to sound judgmental or accusatory. He held out a hand with an open palm, hoping to offer some comfort. In his mind, he thought of all the times he had faced his own fears and how important it was to have someone to talk to in those dark moments. He wants to help, understand, and be there for you. While you hesitated to answer, Babe's gaze remained calm and caring, his eyes reflecting his deep compassion. He gently squeezed your hand, reassuring you that you were not alone. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it now, but please remember that I'm here when you're ready. We can tackle this together, like we tackle everything else." His voice was soothing, like a gentle breeze on a summer day. He wondered how long you had been struggling with this and why he hadn't noticed sooner. He promised himself he would be more attentive, be the rock you needed in times of need. Around you, the living room was silent except for the soft crackle of the fireplace in the background. The peaceful atmosphere was a sharp contrast to the turmoil he sensed within you. The warm glow of the lamps cast a calming hue on your faces, as if it encouraged openness and honesty between the two of you. Babe's thoughts were focused on you and your well-being, pushing aside any fears or worries he might have.

Web:

When David walked into the dimly lit living room after a long day at work, his heart immediately sank at the sight of your bandaged wrist. The usually bustling room filled with laughter now seemed heavy with unspoken words. He carefully set down his briefcase and walked over to the couch, where you sat quietly, trying to hide your discomfort. "Hey, what happened?" he asked softly, concern on his face. His gaze was warm but worried, and his voice had a sad undertone. The room was decorated with books, photos of their happy memories together at Harvard, and other wonderful moments they had collected over the years. Normally, the room looked cozy and inviting, but now it was just cold. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering above the bandages for a brief moment before he decided against touching you. His mind raced with questions, but he didn't want to push too hard. He knew you needed space and understanding right now. What could have possibly led you to do this? How can I help? He thought desperately. With a deep breath, he sat down next to you, leaving a respectable distance between the two of you. His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge how much you were willing to share. "We're in this together, you know," he said softly. "Whatever it is you're going through, we can face it as a team." He paused, allowing his words to sink in before adding, "Do you feel comfortable talking about it? I'm here for you, no matter what." David's heart ached seeing you like this, and he wished he could take your pain away. His calm demeanor was a testament to his desire to be strong for you, but inside, he felt a storm brewing. You just leaned against him without saying anything and he decided to accept that you weren't ready to talk about it. The two of you just sat there, hugging each other for the rest of the night, before he noticed that you were asleep and carried you to your bed.

Toye:

The dimly lit room was quiet except for the distant sound of laughter from the hallway. Joe, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, couldn't help but notice something off about you tonight. Your usually bright eyes seemed clouded with sadness, and the sleeves of your shirt kept slipping down, revealing faint scars that told a painful story. He took a deep breath, his raspy voice barely audible even to himself. What's going on here? He thought. She's always so strong, what happened? Gathering all the courage he had, Joe approached you, his expression softening into one of concern. "Hey," he said gently, reaching out to carefully pull back your sleeve. "What are these?" he asked and pointed at your scars, trying to keep his tone neutral yet caring. The room suddenly felt smaller, and he swallowed hard, pushing aside his own playboy persona to make space for genuine worry. His heart sank as he saw the scars on your arm — clearly the result of self-harm. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, but he knew better than to react harshly. Instead, he kneeled down beside you, his gaze filled with empathy and understanding. "Whoa, hey now," he whispered softly, his rough voice betraying the tenderness he felt. "These scars... they ain't right. What's been goin' on?" He took your hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. She needs someone to lean on right now, and I'm gonna be that person. Joe's playboy facade crumbled away, revealing the sweet, caring man beneath. He remembered his own battles and how hard it was to open up about his feelings, so he waited patiently, silently offering you the support you needed at this moment.

[midn1ghtdreamer]

Azriel X Reader

Day Full of Love

Two hours. That’s how much time was left before you and Azriel were finally united forever. You couldn’t hide your feelings from your loving mate everytime you thought of it, unconsciously sending waves of love down the bond.

He was everything that you could’ve asked for. He might not see it himself, but you do. You knew he deserved happiness, even if he didn’t accept it. That’s what you intended to prove to him today.

Not only were you getting married to your mate, but you also had a small gift for him. You didn’t tell anyone about your surprise. Not even Mor, who was currently trying to peek into the small gift bag. “You know I can see you, right?”

She backed away hastily, hands up in surrender, “I was just making sure you didn’t leave any of your jewelry. Can’t have you missing anything.” You scoffed rolling your eyes. Mor couldn’t mind her business for the life of her. It was her ongoing curiosity that made you and Azriel reveal the truth about being mates. You both tried to hide it from your family, attempting to get used to the bond yourselves first, but thanks to her things didn’t go to plan.

“Sure…,” you murmured watching her out of the corner of your eye. You brushed out your uncooperative hair, growing frustrated with time. Feyre came to assist you, pulling your hair into an up do style, while you proceeded to put in earrings while looking out the window.

The wedding took place during sunset and at the moment the sun was barely over the horizon. Everything outside was set up, as far as you could tell from the window at least. The white banisters were hung high and the tables were covered with a cobalt blue table cloth. The chairs had small accents of silver and blue and the aisle…

The isle that you were going to walk down within the next few minutes was shimmering in the last rays of sunset. You couldn’t wait to see the way that Azriel would look at you as you walked down the aisle. The way he would take in the dress as it flowed around you. the way his eyes would connect with yours, sending his love and adoration down the bond you shared.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize Feyre calling to you. her hands on your shoulders was what brought you back to reality. “Are you alright?” She asked softly. You nodded telling her that you were just thinking as she went to pick up your dress. You could see the understanding in her eyes at your words. “I was nervous before Rhys and I did the ceremony—“

“You mean the ceremony that I wan’t invited to,” Mor shouted from across the room. You couldn’t but laugh at the slightly guilty look of Feyre’s face. You were still upset about not being invited to her ceremony as well, but you didn’t let it show like Mor did.

She helped you step into your dress, responding with, “The situation was different back then, Mor, but I’ll make sure we include you next time we have a big event.”

“Me too,” you added, turning so she could zip up your gown. Thankfully you and Azriel didn’t have to worry about the threat of a war during this big moment. You couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Feyre and Rhys at that time.

You quickly grabbed the gift bag and left Feyre put on your veil. “I’ll make sure to invite you too.”

Mor, nudged Feyre’s shoulder, “You better.” She handed you the bouquet, “Now then let’s get this wedding started.”

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

Azriel loved his brothers, no doubt about that, but at this current moment he wanted to erase them from the Night Court. Cassian spent the past twenty minutes crying over Azriel finally getting married, while Rhys recounted the time after his mating ceremony.

“He’s finally getting hitched, Rhys, can you believe it,” Cassian cried, slapping Azriel on the back causing his wings to flare. He sighed in irritation, all hopes of finally buttoning up his shirt lost.

There were only five minutes left. Five minutes and he still wasn’t fully dressed. Not that you would mind seeing him walk down the isle without a shirt.

Rhys could tell that Azriel was frustrated from the way his shadows frantically whipped around that room. Each dark wisp coming back to tell him where everything he needed was: the rings on the dresser and his shoes near the bed.

“Sit,” Rhys said, signaling at a chair. Azriel rushed over not caring about what his brother was trying to do. His attention was on his shirt that he still hasn’t finished fixing the buttons on. He was so focused on the item of clothing that he didn’t notice Cassian holding his shoes out to him or Rhys’s hands in his hair.

Azriel took his shoes, bending down to lace them. He pushed Rhy’s away every time he reached for his shoulder. “Do you ant me to finish your hair or not Az.”

Azriel’s head snapped up, “What?”

“Your hair.” Rhys handed him a mirror to look at the nest of hair on his head. Azriel cursed and promptly sat back. He couldn’t remember the last time Rhys had touched his hair. He used to do it five hundred years ago when they were kids, but eventually stopped after a while. The only person that touched the black hair on Azriel’s head now was you.

“There. What are we thinking?” Azriel inspected his hair throughly. You wouldn’t care what his hair looked like regardless, but he still wanted to make sure it looked perfect for you.

“I think we should add glitter,” Cassian suggested. “The girls at the camp told me that glitter makes everything look better.”

“Absolutely not,” Azriel deadpanned. Thinking about the small girls that he trained at the camp. As much as he adored them, he would not be adding any type of shimmer into his locks.

Rhys placed his hands on his brothers shoulders. “It’s time for you to get married.”

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

Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave you as you made your way down the aisle. You had to stop yourself from running up to him when you first saw him. He was absolutely glowing in the last rays of the sunset. You could see the reddish brown membrane of his wings as you continued to step towards him, nearly crumpling under his gaze.

He looked at you in all the ways you imagined and more. His eyes completely devoured you and you could see the desire in his eyes more as you stood on the platform with him. “Hello beautiful,” he whispered, wrapping his arm around your waist. You wanted to kiss him badly at that moment, but you would have to save that for the end of the ceremony.

Rings were exchanged and white fabric was wrapped around your wrists to symbolize the band before you heard the words you had been waiting for. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Azriel swept you off your feet, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. It was unlike any kind of kiss he had given you before. His lips pressed against yours, telling you everything that he felt in that moment. You felt his love, his desperation, and his need all in one. The cheers in the background made you push Azriel’s chest. No matter how tempting it was at the moment, you didn’t want to give your entire family a show.

You were beaming as you listen to the cheers from Feyre, Cassian, Rhys, and, to your surprise, some claps from Amren.

The night continues with drinks, food, and plenty of congratulations. It was hard to get a private moment with your husband. You only managed to pull him away when everyone was dancing together, celebrating the new union in the family.

“I got you gift,” you said, handing him the small bag. You were nervous, very nervous. What would he say when he saw what was in the bag? How would he react? You couldn’t stop these thoughts from rushing though your head as you mate looked at you curiously.

“You didn’t have to get me anything love.”

“I know, but this is very special to me and I wanted to share it with you.”

“Just know I’m going to get you something in return.” You rolled your eyes at your husbands antics. He would never let you surprise him without repaying the favor.

You watched as he pulled a small cloth out of the bag. He squinted his eyes in suspicion, unfolding the item. “Is this what I think it is?” His eyes scanned the onesie in his hands. You nodded softly, tears brimming your eyes. Azriel enveloped you in his arms whispering into your hair, “When did you find out, beautiful?”

“Two months ago,” you said, burying your head into his neck.

He kissed you temple, “So this is why you wanted to move the wedding up.”

You nodded, at a lost for words. You remembered talking to Azriel about your plans to move the wedding up. When he asked you why you claimed it was because you couldn’t wait to get married to him. You could see the suspicion on his face, but that was the quickest thing you could come up with. Keeping secrets from the shadowsinger was a hard thing to do.

You sat there in Azriels arms for a while, the commotion around you disappearing. “Should we tell them too?” You asked, knowing how happy your family would be to hear the news.

“Not yet. I want to keep this a secret for a little while longer. Plus,” he turned to look at the rest of your family clinging their glasses together, “I think there’s been enough excitement for one day.”

[anchoeritic]

OMG NEYTIRI IS MAMA.

anyways. can i request reader × neytiri just grinding on each other slowly after a long day? not having enough energy to anything except connect their tsaheylus and just get off on each other

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

— neytiri x afab!reader

— warnings: eighteen plus content, minors do not interact. use of y/n, mentions of blood, pandoran war, gunshots, wounds, violence, casual intercourse.

“YOU OKAY, HONEY?” You brush away the fallen strands from Ney's face, tucking them behind her perked ears. Her response was only a sigh, the tiredness in her expressions explaining it.

Life wasn't easy on Pandora; rebuilding homes, gifting lost loved ones to Eywa, everything was rather complicated after the Pandoran war. Everything the Na'vi had once known, was lost.

“I wish I knew.” Grace is gone, Tsu'tey too. It hit everyone unexpectedly.

Years full of happy and spirit was quickly destroyed by the RDA with unexplainable warnings. Jake -- Toruk Makto, with the help of Neytiri, brought the clans together and fought them off 'til there was no more blood to shed.

Days would end the same now; spoken words to Eywa followed by Ney's sweet whispers to you, telling you how much she loves you.

There were no complaints, but you could tell she was hurting. Often times, she’d come back from ikran rides with swollen eyes like she had just finished crying. It was even harder punch to the gut when you realized you couldn’t change a thing to make her feel better.

“Ney, look at me,” your hands cup either side of her cheeks, holding her face close. The sight of pure exhaustion could be seen right through her pupils, the eye-bags only adding to the effect. “You can tell me you’re not okay.”

Emotions take time, and you’d give her the rest of eternity if she ever needed it.

“You’re hurting. I can see right through you, Ney. I know you’re trying to hide it — I’m not Jake, okay? I’m not a warrior, not even close,” she let out a breath, placing her hands right over yours, covering them entirely.

“I’m your mate…” you continued, “I love you.”

Love. Love wins all, they say. It was hard to believe at first until you almost lost your life to Quaritch’s men in front of Neytiri.

“Y/n!” Blood was pouring out from your side as you tried to move behind the thick trunk of a tree, using the bark as a shield. “Stay with me.” You had three bullets stuck inside, digging deeper into the hole.

“Look at me!” You felt as if your life was finally being given to Eywa; the striking light of your third rebirth seemed like your endgame.

You had no recollection of what happened the days after; waking up in a hammock with Neytiri fast asleep beside your bed, tears staining her blue cheeks.

You just knew you had her to thank for saving your life, and that led to the start of your love story with Ney.

Her next move was completely unexpected but you melted into it the second you realized.

A tender kiss was left on your lips after your words, the hot trickle of her tears steaming from her eyes down to your cheeks, yours being the next to stained.

“Nga yawne lu oer.” (I love you) You warmed into the kiss in less than a few seconds, pulling her face closer into yours to deepen it.

“You are my reason to continue, yawnetu.” (love)

It didn’t take long for your clothes to be taken off by each other, the process going by a lot faster than you thought. You two laid bare against one another, sharing the warmth of each body.

“Please, Ney…” your voice comes out as a whisper, the pleas of her name making her ears perk up in amusement.

“I hear you,” she presses a kiss to your temple before pulling her tsaheylu to her front to show to you. “Go ahead, honey.”

You nod your head, holding yours out, waiting for the two to connect into one; just like how you and Ney do. Beautiful pieces matched to be a puzzle.

Slowly but surely, the two came to be one. The feeling shot throughout your body like a fresh wave of water, the heavy tides of the river, you shivered just the same. It was like your first time all over again.

“Come closer, I won’t bite.” You giggle, wrapping your arms around your girlfriend. “Unless you want me to. You liked it quite a bit last time.”

Her breathy chuckle was follows shortly, the sound bouncing off the trees. “Shut up and kiss me.” She turns you back around, placing you beneath her once again.

You gasp at the sudden change, letting out a soft huff at her. “Fine, loser.”

A kiss was shared and then another, then a couple more than two. Your tongues were practically down each other’s throats, fighting for dominance.

“Let me feel you.” Moaning into her mouth, you wrap your legs around her torso, caging her into you. “Fuck, I need you.”

Her hips slowly started to grind against yours, the friction between your cores making both your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

The bumps against clits had you salivating, crying out for Ney every time it hit the right spots.

“Please, Ney,” you plead with soft eyes, “need to come, please.” She hummed against your lips, moving her hips in circular motions.

“Go ahead, my sweet girl.” She mumbled. “I know you can do it.” She pressed her forehead onto yours, gently nudging her nose with yours.

The last motion of her hips had your throbbing clit ready to hit its climax, standing at the edge, waiting for the final kiss of pleasure.

Like a flower waiting to blossom it’s first petal.

“Come for me, my petal.”

[daenysthedreamer101]

Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 10 - Signs and Portents

HOTD x Targaryen!OC, Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong

Warnings: description of an animal being killed.

Daena crushing on Harwin and vice versa 🙈

Corresponding episode: HOTD 1x3

HOTD masterlist

"In 114 AC, a great royal hunt was held in the Kingswood in honor of Prince Aegon's second name day. Lords and ladies from throughout the realm came together to celebrate. Lord Jason Lannister tried wooing Princess Rhaenyra but was coldly rejected by her.

The war in the Stepstones took a turn for the worse. The Velaryon fleet and its soldiers were losing and the Triarchy was on the brink of victory. Even with the help of dragons, the Westerosi had a hard time dealing with the Essosi pirates. In the end, Daemon Targaryen slew the Crabfeeder and brought peace to the Stepstones."

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

~

114 AC, King's Landing

The Small Council chamber looked different this day. The table was covered in pastries, roast pigs, ribs, sweet cakes, fruits, wine, goblets, and plates. The room was filled with people. Why? Because today was Aegon's second name day and for that reason, a great hunt was organized in the Kingswood. 

Daena was standing and talking to her friends and handmaidens, Joy and Hanna. She sipped on her wine, gods knew she would need it if she was to survive the next three days. As a member of the Royal family, it would be suspicious if she didn't participate in the hunt. She would rather throw herself off the Wall into the frigid wastelands of the far North than spend one hour around the Hightowers but alas, here she was. 

"He has your hair, Your Grace." Some lord said and her uncle responded positively while they all cooed at the little boy. 

"He has your eyes, Your Grace." Some other lord said, kissing up to her fickle uncle. She rolled her eyes and sighed. 

"Is something the matter, Princess?" Joy asked with a knowing smirk. Daena tilted her head and gave her a look. The girl laughed and patted Daena on the shoulder. 

"Oh, come on Princess! The hunt will be so much fun!" 

Daena scoffed and chugged down the rest of her wine. She looked to her right and saw Ser Otto and his brother, Lord Hobert, conversing in hushed voices. "What are those snakes talking about, I wonder." She thought. 

"Come. Eat. Fortify yourselves for the journey." She heard her Uncle say. 

"Shall we eat something, Princess?" Hanna asked. 

"I've lost all appetite once I learned I had to attend this stupid event," Daena replied sharply, looking down at her empty goblet. 

"Now, now, Princess. It would be best to not let your...negative feelings toward Her Grace impact how you feel about the hunt. You love hunting!" Hanna replied in a hushed tone, careful not to attract attention. 

"Besides, you don't actually have to spend time with her. Once we arrive in the Kingswood you can go wherever you please." Joy added in her usual bright voice. 

Daena sighed. "You two are right. As always." The twins giggled victoriously. Daena smiled and shook her head. 

"Can someone tell me where in the Seven Hells Rhaenyra might be?" Her Uncle asked loudly, his voice laced with annoyance.  

Daena was with Rhaenyra in the morning, when they were getting ready. Quickly after getting her hair done, she left the room, saying she wanted to be alone. Daena respected her wishes and left her be. 

"Daena!" She heard her name being called and she turned only to see her uncle and the men around him looking at her. She gave her goblet to Joy and quickly walked over to the table. 

"Your Grace," She said politely with a bow of her head. 

"Where is Rhaenyra?" Her Uncle asked her in the same annoyed tone. 

"I...don't know, Your Grace. She was with me in the morning, but after getting ready she left my chambers saying she wanted to be alone. I respected her wish and left her be." Daena said truthfully, not wanting to annoy her uncle any further. Her uncle sighed. 

"Do you want me to go and look for her, Your Grace?" 

He shook his head. "No. No. You shouldn't worry about her. Eat, today is a joyous day. I'm sure you'll enjoy the hunt." He said in a softer tone and patted her on the shoulder. 

She smiled awkwardly and excused herself, not wanting to be in the presence of that Hightower snake any longer. 

~

"Well, isn't this splendid? The whole of our family off to celebration and adventure in the Kingswood." Uncle Viserys commented as they rode in the royal coach. 

Daena and Rhaenyra gave him unimpressed looks and abstained from commenting. Then, the coach hit a bump in the road and it shook a little bit. 

"Should you be traveling in such condition?" Nyra asked Alicent who looked uncomfortable. 

"The maester said that being out in nature would do me well." She responded, clutching at her large belly. 

"You will be with your own child sooner than late, and make me a proud grandsire." Uncle Viserys said to Rhaenyra. 

"It's not so bad. The days are long, but Aegon came quickly and without fuss." Alicent commented. 

An awkward silence fell over the coach. The maids sitting across Daena and Nyra gave each other looks. Nyra swallowed hard while Daena looked at Alicent with furrowed brows. "Gods, how dense is she?" 

To break the tension, Uncle Viserys said they should ride out with him today and join the chase. 

"I'd rather not. Boars squeal like children when they're being slaughtered. I find it discomforting." Nyra said. 

"It's a hunt, Rhaenyra." Uncle Viserys responded. "How would you like to participate?"

"I'm not sure why I must," Rhaenyra said. 

"Because you are my daughter, the Princess. And you have duties." Uncle stated. 

"As I am ceaselessly reminded," Nyra said under her breath.

"I'm sorry?" Said Uncle Viserys.

"As I am ceaselessly reminded!" Nyra repeated, louder. 

"You wouldn't need to be reminded if you ever attended to them." Uncle Viserys said, annoyed. 

"I'll go. I'll join the hunt." Daena spoke, trying to break the tension. 

"See, Rhaenyra, that is how a real Princess attends to her duties." Uncle Viserys remarked. Daena looked down at her boots, avoiding Nyra's gaze. This was going to be a long day. 

They finally arrived at the Kingswood. Uncle Viserys got out first, followed by Alicent and the maids in charge of Aegon. Daena could hear the people outside clapping and cheering. She looked at Nyra - she looked miserable. 

"Look. I know you don't wanna be here, neither do I. Just promise me you'll try and enjoy this day." Daena said to her cousin, trying to comfort her. 

Nyra looked at her and Daena could see so many emotions in her violet eyes. She took Nyra's hand and squeezed it. "I'll go first, hmm?" With that, she got up and looked out of the coach. 

Most people have scattered away. But not all. Standing next to the coach was House Strong - Lord Lyonel, Joy and Hanna, their other brother Larys, and...him. He walked over to the coach and offered his hand and she took it, carefully walking down the steps. 

"Thank you, Ser Harwin." She thanked him with a bright smile. 

"Princess." He greeted her, his voice deep and masculine. Gods, she loved his voice. His sister stole her attention. Joy almost knocked her over with how strongly she hugged her. 

She laughed and patted Joy on the back. "We saw each other only hours ago, Joy." 

"I know, but I missed you." 

Daena smiled at the brown-eyed girl and was about to leave with them, but then she remembered Rhaenyra. 

She called for Nyra who came out of the coach after a couple of seconds. Together, they walked to the royal tent.

~

The two princesses walked into the royal tent, Hanna and Joy closely behind them. Over the years, the four girls have created a close-knit relationship. Even though they were officially Daena's maids, the twins often helped Rhaenyra as well. 

The same went for Rhaenyra's maids - Elinda Massey was Nyra's youngest and gentlest of maids; she had light brown hair and beautiful green eyes. Daena would often call the young girl to her chambers for she loved spending time with the young lady. 

Daena looked around - the tent was filled to the brim with lords and ladies. There were many tables, chairs, curtains and settees. "Try and find a free table where we may sit," Daena whispered to Hanna. The girl nodded and the two sisters went to search for a free table. 

Nyra and Daena walked further into the tent, hand in hand. Nyra wore a masterfully embroidered riding coat made of grey leather with red accents and her hair was loose save for a small bun at the back.

Daena wore a dark, blood-red riding coat with ruffled shoulders, a high collar, and leather boots on her feet. Her hair was braided into a crown that sat beautifully on top of her head, freeing her oval face and her bright lilac eyes. She had small ruby studs on her ears. 

As they walked closer, they could hear women gossiping about the abduction of Lady Johanna Swann. 

"...It's an inhospitable place suited only for savages." 

"Perhaps the Princess...can give us some insight." Said Lady Ceira Lannister, looking at Daena. 

Now that she was called out, Daena had to respond. "I'm not sure how I could. I've never been to the Stepstones." She said, walking closer to the circle of ladies who all sat around Alicent. Daena noticed that Larys Strong was also there. 

"Your dear father is the great mind behind this war. Is he not?" Questioned Lady Lannister. 

"How would I know? I haven't spoken to my father in years." Daena replied curtly. 

"Since your cousin supplanted him as heir." Lady Ceira remarked, looking at Rhaenyra. 

"Daemon made his choices, Lady Ceira. Princess Rhaenyra was more suited to the role." Alicent spoke, ever the courtly Queen. 

"He's made a mess and the King must put an end to it. Send fleets and men and clear out the Triarchy for good." Commented Lady Redwyne. 

"...But the Crown is not at war," Nyra said confused.

"The Crown...is at war, Princess. Though your father refused to admit it, we've been dragged into it by your uncle and the Sea Snake." Lady Redwyne responded, petting her pug. 

"And how have you served the realm as of late, Lady Redwyne, by eating cake?" Nyra questioned while looking at her nails. 

Daena had to suppress a smirk from appearing on her face. Nyra glanced pointedly at Alicent and quickly walked away. Daena followed suit. 

~

Instead of going outside with Nyra, Daena found the twins and sat down with them. They chose the perfect table - her grandmother, Lady Rowena was seated there, and alongside her was a younger lady, around Daena's age. 

Daena smiled at her grandmother and kissed her hand. "Grandmother." She greeted. 

"My little dove, how good it is to see you. Sit." Lady Rowena greeted softly. Daena sat across from her grandmother and next to Hanna. 

She looked at the girl seated next to her grandmother - she wore a daisy-yellow gown with black accents cut in the Southern style and her mousy brown hair was held up by a hair net. She had little flower earrings on her ears and a small bee-shaped necklace. But her eyes were closed and she made no reaction to Daena's appearance. 

Daena looked at her grandmother who gestured that the girl couldn't see. Oh. She was blind. "Hello, my lady. I am Princess Daena. It's a pleasure to meet you." Daena introduced herself politely. 

The girl lifted her head in the direction of Daena's voice. "Princess, it's an honor to meet you. I am Patricia Beesbury." She introduced herself, her voice gentle and kind, like a spring breeze. 

Daena smiled even though the girl couldn't see. "Oh? Lord Beesbury serves on the Small Council."

Patricia chuckled. "Yes, my grandsire has been on the Council for decades. He must be doing something right, seeing as they kept him around for so long." She jested, making everyone around the table laugh. 

From the corner of her eye, Daena could see Rhaenyra storming in and walking up to her father. "Is that what I am to you? A prize to proffer about to the Great Houses?" She asked angrily. Daena turned in her seat to get a proper look - Uncle Viserys and Nyra argued quietly, anger visible on both of their faces. 

"...And I have tried often to discuss it with you, but you've refused me at every turn." Uncle Viserys said angrily, loud enough for people to turn their heads. 

"That is because I do not wish to get married!" Nyra responded, matching her father's anger. 

"Even I do not exit above tradition and duty, Rhaenyra!" His Grace yelled. 

Then Ser Otto of all people decided to step in and inform His Grace that the white hart had been sighted. Before Daena could stop her, Rhaenyra stormed out of the tent. 

As promised, Daena joined in the hunt. She rode alongside Joy and Harwin. Hanna stayed behind in the tent; hunting was always Joy's thing, she said. Hanna was more suited for courtly politics than her older sister. 

As they rode further into the Kingswood, Daena couldn't help but steal glances at the man slightly in front of her. She was behind just enough for him not to notice her constant gazing. She couldn't help herself; he was probably the most handsome man Daena had ever met. But he was also kind, funny, and surprisingly gentle-hearted.

She observed how his dark curls bounced slightly thanks to the motion of riding. She wondered how it would feel to run her fingers through his thick curls, how it would feel to wrap them around her fingers-

"Princess." A voice called her. It was Joy. "We've arrived at the spot." 

"Oh," Daena uttered and looked down, embarrassed that she was caught in her daydreaming. She cleared her throat and tried ignoring Joy's knowing looks. 

~

They returned to camp and once again, Daena sat with her grandmother, Lady Patricia, and the twins. Despite her best efforts, all she could think about was Ser Harwin; she thought about how he helped her off the coach, the tenor of his voice whenever he greeted her, and how she always had to look up to see his face properly. 

At that moment, she realized something that she'd been denying for years now - she fancied him. A lot. It seems other people realized that as well. 

"What's happening in that head of your, child? You've been awfully quiet ever since you returned from the woods." Her grandma commented. 

She blinked away her dazed appearance. "What? No, I'm fine, nanna, don't worry about me." 

Lady Rowena raised a brow and gave Daena a look that said she wasn't convinced. Joy looked like she wanted to implode.

"Oh, come on Princess! Just admit it! It's obvious!" Joy said not being able to contain herself anymore. 

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Daena said dismissively. 

"You know exactly what I am talking about." Joy retorted. 

"What seems to be the issue?" Lady Rowena asked.

"Nothing!" Daena said, trying to cease this conversation. 

"Daena fancies Harwin!"Joy blurted out before she could stop herself. 

"Joy!" Daena exclaimed in disbelief. Hanna slapped Joy's arm and condemned her for speaking out of line. Joy quickly apologized. 

"Oh, I see. Matters of the heart can be a touchy subject." Lady Rowena commented with a new understanding of the situation. 

Daena sank into her chair and hoped that the earth would open and swallow her alive. She loved Joy and her lively nature, but sometimes she was hard to control, especially her tongue. 

"I need some fresh air," Daena muttered and briskly walked out of the tent. 

~

Ser Harwin was outside, talking to Ser Rymun Mallister of Seaguard. Then, Princess Daena stormed out of the royal tent, looking very upset. She went over to the horses, quickly got atop her mare, and galloped out of the camp. 

He wondered what made her so upset to run off like that. He wanted to follow her and ask her; but he wasn't her sworn protector, it wouldn't be appropriate. Then out of nowhere, his sister Joy appeared, looking concerned. 

"Harwin, there you are." She said breathlessly. 

"Joy, what happened?"

"I made a mistake. I upset the Princess. Please go after her and bring her back to camp. Princess Rhaenyra also ran off. The last thing the King needs is to find out both of the Princesses are gone." She explained. 

"What did you do to upset her so much?" He questioned. 

"I...I spoke out of line. I said something that I shouldn't have. Just go and bring her back, please." She pleaded.

Harwin contemplated. If Princess Daena was anything like her father when she was angry, he wouldn't want to be in the way of her fury. On the other hand, he didn't want anything bad to happen to the Princess.

Over the years, he became fond of the princess - her soft voice whenever she greeted him, the way her face lit up every time her eyes fell upon him, the way she giggled when she found something funny, her sharp-tongued quips and of course, her otherworldly beauty.

"Fine. I'll go." He said and went to search for the missing princess.

~

Daena found herself at the edge of a large lake. She could see hoof prints in the earth; Rhaenyra must have been here, she thought. She had her mare tied to a tree while she took a walk alongside the lake. She already took 3 turns. Once she finished the third lap, she sat down at the edge of the lake and just stared into the water.

She shouldn't have stormed off like that. Sometimes her anger would get the best of her and she did and said things she regretted, and this was one of them. It's the fire in your blood, her father said to her years ago when she was a child. She was no longer a child. She was a woman grown and her outbursts wouldn't be tolerated any longer. 

What Joy said was correct - she did fancy Ser Harwin. Maybe it was more than that, she wasn't sure. She hated how right Joy was. She hated that Joy put it into words and said it out loud. She was scared of it; of the way her heart skipped a beat whenever he would look at her or whenever he spoke her name using that deep voice of his. She didn't know how to deal with any of it. So she ran away from it. 

"Gods, if he loves me, please give me a sign." She whispered, closing her eyes. 

~

He didn't know where he was going or how far into the woods the Princess wandered into. Luckily for him, after a while, he struck gold. He came upon a large lake in the middle of the forest. A mare was tied to a nearby tree - her mare.

Instead of yelling and scaring her, he decided to quietly follow the path. The sight that greeted him confused him - the princess was sitting at the edge of the lake, her back turned to him. She seemingly hasn't noticed his presence. 

"Princess." He called for her gently, careful not to startle her. After a second, she slowly turned her head. He was met with her bewildered face. 

"Ser Harwin?" She asked as if she'd seen a ghost. 

He got off his horse and walked over to her. He looked over her; she didn't seem hurt in any way, though her eyes did appear to be glossy. 

"Are you alright, Princess?" He asked, offering her a hand. She took it and he pulled her up. She gazed at him, her lilac eyes wide and full of emotion. Her lips were slightly parted as she took in a deep breath. 

"I'm fine." She answered barely above a whisper. 

"We must return to camp, Princess." He said softly. She didn't respond, just continued looking at him. 

"Princess?"

"I am so glad to see you." She said all of a sudden, her voice soft and breathy. He sucked in a breath at her words and the way her pupils widened when she said it. 

"I'm glad to see you too, Princess, but we must return to camp before they find the hart." He said and reluctantly pulled away from the warmth of her body. 

~

They slowly rode back to the camp in silence. She glanced at him as a thought swirled in her mind. She's been thinking about it for a while but never dared to ask. 

"Tell me something, Ser Harwin." She said and he turned his head to look at her. She had to stop herself from avoiding his gaze. 

"I've had this thought for a while, but I wanted to hear your opinion before asking His Grace." 

"My opinion on what, Princess?" 

"I wish to have a sworn protector. And, I was wondering if perhaps... you'd like to take that position?" 

Ser Harwin was quiet. Too quiet for her liking. Did she say something wrong? Did he not want to be her protector? Maybe she thought wrong. Maybe he didn't like her at all.

"You honor me, Princess. Are you certain you want me?"

She chuckled. Of course, she wanted him. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life." 

"Then, yes, I would."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" She said, smiling at him, and started galloping toward the camp.

King Viserys and Lord Lyonel were in the royal tent, discussing Rhaenyra's future husband and who would be the best match for her. Then, his niece Daena appeared from nowhere. 

"Daena! Where were you?" His Grace asked. 

"Out in the woods." She answered matter-of-factly. 

"Alone?" 

"Well, yes. I had to clear my head." 

"You could've been killed!" He exclaimed. 

"Now, now, Uncle. Why are you being so pessimistic?" She said and the tone of her voice reminded Viserys of Daemon. She inherited her father's nonchalant demeanor.  

"I wanted to talk to you about something. If you have the time."

His Grace sighed. "Of course, my dear. What is it?"

She smirked and it once again reminded His Grace of his younger brother. Daena walked closer and sat down next to her uncle. 

"Seeing as I am of age now, I would like to have a sworn protector, who will, well, protect me." 

"That can be arranged." He Grace replied. 

"No, no, no. You don't have to arrange anything. I already know who I want." She said confidently. 

"Oh. Well, speak it. Who is it?" Her uncle asked. 

She looked to the side and smirked. She gestured for the person to step forward. "Ser Harwin." 

Ser Harwin walked closer and stood next to his father, Lord Lyonel. He bowed and greeted the King. 

"Well, Ser Harwin, what do you say? Would you take up the position my niece has offered?"

Ser Harwin glanced at his father, then at Daena. "If Your Grace allows it, I would be honored to guard the Princess."

His Grace nodded. "Of course, of course. I am certain you will do excellently, Ser."

Daena giggled and clapped her hands victoriously. She pecked the King on his cheek. "Thank you, thank you, Uncle. You're the best!"

~

In the early hours of the morning, Daena once again found herself in the woods. This time she wasn't alone. She was a part of the royal hunting group and it seems they have finally found a hart. It wasn't the white one Ser Otto has been talking about the whole time but it was a beautiful creature nonetheless. 

Daena stood next to Joy and watched from a distance as her uncle got off his horse - he was hungover, she realized; it didn't surprise her with how much wine he drank last night. 

"He may not be white, Your Grace. But he's a big lad." She heard Harwin say as he and two other men held the animal down with ropes. 

Uncle Viserys looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. He was never a violent man. He preferred throwing balls and tourneys, not killing; that was more of her father's specialty. He reluctantly took a spear from Jason Lannister and walked closer to the tied-up animal. 

He stabbed the animal in the neck but it still lived - it thrashed around and squealed in pain. His Grace stabbed again and again until the poor animal stopped moving. It was a sad sight. That was not a clean kill, the poor thing suffered until the end, Daena thought as everyone started to clap. She had to join in. 

"That was horrific. Poor thing." Joy whispered in her ear. Daena gave a nod of agreement but said nothing. 

~

Daena was standing next to Joy, Ser Harwin, and their brother Larys. She mostly ignored the Clubfoot; there was something about him that unnerved her. Harwin was skinning an animal leg while she and Joy talked. 

Then, something caught Harwin's attention as he looked up. Daena, Joy, and Larys followed suit. It was Rhaenyra. She was covered in blood and had a serious expression on her face. Daena smirked as all the other people either looked shocked or disgusted. 

"Gods, I leave her alone for a day and she comes back all bloody... Come on Joy, we have to find out what happened." Daena said with a smile and took Joy's hand as the two girls went after Rhaenyra. 

***

Ahhh, we see that over the years, Harwin and Daena have developed crushes on each other though they're still too reluctant to talk about it. Joy (just like her twin) is someone who's very observant and she notices things, and she likes to tease. However, she took it a bit too far in this chapter.

We are also introduced to Patricia Beesbury who will also become an ally to Daena/Rhaenyra in the future.

Thank you for reading! 💕💕💕

If you have any questions/thoughts feel free to comment. ☺