#We were poised mock fighting before they picked me up

[hiddenbysuccubi]

For any of your head canon / short fic'ing needs: picture this. A cute Striker (my age) picked me (Fizzy) up bridal style for the Helluva cosplay photoshoot but upon dismount I uh, clumsily fell onto a Blitz and Stolas.

[millenniumdueled]

The End of the World, Again: part 2

Yugi

The group emerges from the rift to find themselves in the crumbled remains of an ancient, tiered city, long forgotten. Before them stands a massive door to the uppermost level, from where that great pillar of teal light seems to be projected.

"that must be where dartz is..." Yugi speculates, craning his neck as he follows the light upwards.

Seto

"No time like the present, then."

Seto opens the door to fated destiny's destruction, nothing but confidence and irritation.

Yugi

Yugi nods in agreement and makes his way to the large door. It leads the Duelists to an open courtyard, stone pathways leading to a central domed structure over a shallow pool. The pillar of line eminates from the top of the dome, and a crystalline statue of a familiar foe sits below.

"Careful, Partner..." his Other Half warns as Yugi approaches the crystal statue.

He steps up onto the platform of the domed structure, glancing over his shoulder at the others, and around the courtyard. But as he reaches out to touch the statue, suddenly the crystal falls apart to nothing more than dust on the wind. Yugi's eyes widen, and Dartz's laugh echoes around them again

Seto

Upon hearing the laughter that grates on his nerves and his ears, Seto readies his Duel Disk to play monsters for the fight. He takes a defiant step forward, knees bent slightly for poise.

"Dartz! Where are you, snake food?! Show yourself!"

Yugi

"I'm with my god now. Don't worry, Seto. You'll join us soon enough," echoes Dartz's voice from the dome overhead. As his words finish, that bright pillar of light splits into four, each arcing in a different direction over the side of the island and plunging deep into the ocean far, far below.

Joey

It's a good thing he's focusing on the task at hand. The emptied soul squares were creepy, the portal was weird, this empty city is creepy as hell, and the life-sized glass Dartz that just disintegrated for no reason? You guessed it, creepy!! The disembodied voice is not helping, though at least Joey only jumps a little when all that light goes shooting outwards again. He heads to the edge of the domed area to try to look over, see where it went.

His jaw drops as a massive green serpent winds and twists its way out of the ocean, into the sky, flying towards them. It's big enough to coil around the entire floating city. "Holy-! That thing could pick its teeth with any of the Egyptian God monsters! That's the Great Leviathan!?" Well. He knew this wasn't going to be easy. But damn.

"...Is it just me or does he have a pimple?"

Yugi

At Joey's comment, the Other Yugi squints at the enormous snake that looms over the Duelists. He gasps when he realizes.

"That pimple is Dartz!"

The Leviathan roars in response.

The Pharaoh wastes no time, immediately drawing and summoning the first three monsters in his deck: Dark Magician, Summoned Skull, and... Kuriboh. As the monsters appear, as flesh and blood rather than projections of light, the Other Yugi pulls one more card, and the dragon Timaeus joins them.

Joey

"Eugh!?"

Joey follows Yugi's lead, summoning Flame Swordsman, Jinzo, and, of course, Red-Eyes Black Dragon. He's liking these battles that don't stick strictly to the rules. To top it off, he's got Hermos next in his deck, and he wastes no time bringing him out as well. "ALRIGHT!! We got this!"

Seto

Seto bares his teeth at the monstrous creature, pulling from his Extra Deck to summon Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon, Gadget Soldier, and Vorse Raider, who has been loyal to him through this entire ordeal- and, finally, Critias. Seto feels the monsters all share a smiliar dedication to their Duelists, and to the world those Duelists live in; they have to give this battle their all.

Dartz looks down at the humans and their Duel Monsters and gives his heartiest, cruelest laugh yet, mocking them. "HAHAHAHAHAHA! Is this all the Chosen Duelists have to muster?!"

"Shut it, hood ornament! Prepare to get blasted into next week!"

Yugi

Once all three legendary dragons are summoned, the Other Yugi feels a pull in his heart that tells him to draw another card. And so he does. He immediately slides Legend of Heart into place in his DuelDisk, and the three dragons regain their human, knight forms.

He stares that enormous snake down with all his rage as he calls on all of their monsters to attack as one. A bright, white light encompasses the battlefield, leaving the Duelists temporarily blinded by the united front.

But when the spots clear from his vision, the Other Yugi gasps.

The great Leviathan still stands, seemingly unaffected by the all powerful attack.

Dartz laughs again. Though his torso and head look so small protruding from the massive monster's face, his guffawing still echoes.

The Pharaoh grits his teeth, plants a foot in the ground below him. He draws another card and plays Multiply. Outside of the rules of Duel Monsters, he uses the spell card to amplify the knight Timaeus's attack. Once again, a great burst of light errupts.

And once again, the serpent stands as the lights fade. Completely unharmed by the mighty affront.

Seto

Seto shields his eyes from the massive onslaught's discharge of light, having no time to marvel at the Knights who came from the Dragons. He supposes it makes sense, in a way... but he did prefer their dragon forms to these humanoid Knights. Joey seems far more surprised, at least, until they're all blinded again by Timaeus's follow-up attack.

Which, still, does nothing.

"Oh, is that it? Your magnificent mosquito bite?" Dartz giggles, which somehow stings more than evil laughter. "Then I suppose it's my turn!"

The great snake rears up, gathering negative light into its huge maw...

Yugi

As the Leviathan draws energy for its attack, the Other Yugi thinks quickly. He pulls another card, and holds it into the air as he calls for Timaeus. The knight absorbs the powerful defense of Big Shield Gardna into his sword, projecting a barrier of light that shields the Duelists.

But the other monsters aren't so lucky.

When the Leviathan's attack fades and the Full Barrier Shield finally disappears into a cloud of glitter, the Duelists stand with only their Knights left to protect them.

As the snake stares them down, those iridescent auroras begin to glow overhead once more. The great beast raises its head, pausing to investigate the colorful lights.

Glowing bubbles seem to emerge from the aurora, and the Other Yugi gapss as he recognizes a voice coming from one. The Dark Magician Girl, who he had met the night he freed Timaeus, calls out to her fellow monsters to unite against the serpent. One after another, dozens of those bubbles of light crash into the snake.

"Help from the other side--!!" the Pharaoh gasps as he realizes.

Seto

Seto stares for a moment where the Duel Monsters are hitting the Leviathan, watching for any damage that may occur... but it's not enough. He turns back to the other two Duelists. "Hey- Yugi, Idiot, we should take this opportunity to regroup, while he's still surprised enough not to attack us again!"

Which leads to Seto summoning his XYZ Dragon Cannon, Blade Knight, and Kaiser Seahorse. They're less than his best monsters, but with Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon in the graveyard... it's what he has available.

Yugi

The Other Yugi nods in determined agreement with his rival. He tosses him a quick smirk, but in a fraction of a second, his focus is returned to the great beast.

The futility of the monsters' attack won't shake his confidence. He summons forth three new monsters, Black Luster Soldier, Buster Blader, and Valkyrion the Magna Warrior. A stark upgrade from his last pulls.

Joey

"Don't call me idiot, jackass." There's no heat to the little jab, though, as Joey summons a new lineup. Gearfried, Rocket Warrior, and Gilford the Lightning. "I got your back, Hermos! All you hit him at once! Ain't no way it can stand up to us plus the help of those monsters up there!"

Yugi

Once each Duelist has summoned their next wave of monsters, the Other Yugi orders them to attack. Their monsters leap at the Great Leviathan as one, giving their all as they slash, stab, and blast into the snake's throat.

The massive beast roars, throws its head back, but it shows no signs of damage still. Blade-like spines shoot from its hide, piercing the monsters that hack and slash hopelessly against its thick scales.

Enraged but unharmed, the divine serpent turns its venomous gaze to the legendary knights.

Seto

The Legendary Knights are fearless in the face of this immense God-creature, but, unfortunately for their Duelists, they are but Duel Monsters, nothing more.

Even with all the bolstering in their decks, these Knights cannot withstand a blow from such a monster. They, too, are destroyed.

Dartz then sends tendrils of darkness toward the Chosen Duelists, effortlessly entangling them and pulling them toward his God's obsidian skin. "Don't you see? Even your Legendary Knights have failed you, Chosen Duelists; resistance is futile. All will be consumed by the great Leviathan, and it will drown the world in the darkness of humanity's hearts! Take a moment, now, while you can: hear them inside its belly!"

Joey

Joey watches their monsters get skewered with a wince. "Okay... Maybe we need a plan B." Well they still have their Knights!

And. Now they don't.

"No!! Shit, nothin's workin' on this thing!" he cries out as they get snatched up. He still tries to fight, even aiming a punch at the tendril that grabs him. "Bring it on, you freaky mutant! Ain't no god has kept me down yet, you ain't about to break that streak!!" But then he freezes. Looks around. "...Mai? Valon? Rex??" He looks back up at the Leviathan. Where the voices are coming from. "...I hear you. I HEAR YOU!! I AIN'T GIVIN' UP ON YOU, WE'LL GET YOU OUTTA THERE!!!"

Somehow.

(( as always!!!!! thank you x10000 to @redeyesandchilifries and @blueeyesking !!!!! ))

[chemicalpink]

Killer Queen ♠️ Kim Namjoon [TEASER]

♠️ Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

♠️ Genre/Rating: angst, smut, historical au, enemies to lovers kinda, enemy soulmates au, magic au, royal au, 18+

♠️ Collab: Kingdom Collab by the lovely @erotikkook

♠️ Word Count: [teaser] 639

♠️ Warnings: swearing, mild rough handling, mild humiliation, honestly they’re at each other’s necks 24/7 in this teaser. [more will apply to the finished fic]

♠️ Summary: There’s nearly nothing Kim Namjoon won’t do to save his Kingdom from impending downfall, sitting on the throne by having to arrange a marriage with a rivalling Kingdom was just half of it, truth be told, you, his Queen, turned out to be cut into perfection for the position, except for the fact that he may have miscalculated and his seemingly perfectly planned choices have led him to his own doom, as it has always been scripted for hundreds of years until now. 

♠️ A/N: I’ll be honest, I still don’t know where I’m going with this entirely because I’m mixing a lot of AUs and stuff, but if enemy soulmates and magical aus are your thing, this might be it. I just find it so funny to think that instead of a promised love that transcends time and space, you’ve got someone trying to fight you 24/7 and fall in love along the way.

Namjoon can’t help the feeling of his blood boiling inside his body as a wicked grin draws on your face, eyes never leaving his and he can almost swear on his life he sees them flashing black for a second. 

You can hear the faint tell tales of the hundred servants around you walking all around the place, no one even so much as daring to approach the two of you as the newly crowned queen had just pulled their king into a rather secluded area in one of the poorly lit hallways around the freezing cold castle, faint mumblings about what the two of you could possibly be doing there that can’t come close to what you’re really doing. 

“What did you do to her?” Namjoon’s voice is soft, barely  audible yet you can hear the way his heart rate keeps picking  up by the second, enraged.

A scoff ripples through you, mocking him. “Haven’t you known, it has always been just me…” You poise your best doe eyes as you look up at him “..your Majesty” 

Namjoon’s eyes travel all over your face, unfixed in a particular emotion as he experiences it all, from rage to grief, to fear, before it settles on defeat, sparkling a growl out of him as his voice rises in volume, hands coming up to cup your cheeks in between his fingers, rendering you inmobile, forcing you to look up at him as he corners you against the stone wall behind you, body pressing against yours “WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO Y/N?”

You can’t help but make a small sound of disapprivement  at him before you’re the one pressing him to the wall, hands behind his back as he renders himself to your much smaller body, lips coming close to his ear from behind as an all too familiar shiver ripples through him “Isn’t this the way it was meant to be? The way it has always been, Namjoon?” he tugs against your hold at your words, entertaining him a bit longer before you set him free, contorted face facing you.

You can quite understand the way that he worked his way though everyone’s hearts to become king, the determined look on his face, that righteous pose he took upon, the crown sitting prettily on top of his head. Your finger caresses his chest with practised ease “We’ve been at this for hundreds of years Joonie, have we not?” Your eyes lock with his as you smile gently at the way his heart seems tyo want to explode out of his ribcage behind your palm “It’s always us against the world, ruining each other, you owe me that much after the last time you found me” 

“Get the fuck out of my kingdom”

“Now how exactly do you think that would work out Namjoon?” your tone is somewhat tires, annoyed at the way that Namjoon doesn’t seem to have known what you were thinking right off the bat even after so many years of it, the politics involved “A newly wedded King that has just secured the throne by marrying into a rival Kingdom, throwing his wife, the Queen, into the streets? Surely your people wouldn’t like that” 

There’s a conflicted look in Namjoon’s face.

“How long do you think it’ll take me to overthrow you, sit on your throne and keep you as a pet?” The way that his face scrunches up in disgust is enough to tell you he’s back in the game and you feel a sense of pride in your chest at his reaction, a palm coming up to pat his cheek as people start piling into the hallways once more, the two of you no longer alone “Now reign yourself before you even try to rule this place, you’ve got a ball to host”    

[mi6-cafe]

WEEK 2 DRABBLES ARE HERE!

Now, let’s refresh your memory.

For the second week of LDWS, our true l- our writers were asked to write a drabble between 150 and 200 words, based on the word deck from the point of view of an outsider.

THEY DID SUCH A GREAT JOB!

(this is a purely illustrative gif of an outside observer of the goings on at Q’s flat, not a prompt)

READ THE DRABBLES AND VOTE!

hOW?

Read the drabbles & Pick three favourites!

Vote for them on this form!

Add some feedback for the writers!

That’s it! You have done your civic duty and voted!

Vote!

Read the drabbles below the line.

#1

Title: Eulogy for the Aston Martin Author: Misha / artsytarts Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (mainly directed at vehicles) Summary: Around 007, life and death go hand in hand.

The moment I leave solid ground and fly, pointed directly at the deck of the ship, I know my life is forfeit.

I realize now why the other machines pitied me after I was assigned to the man they call 007. I see his blue eyes blazing as he concentrates, gripping my steering wheel. They say he’s careless, but judging from the few days I’ve carried him, I know different. He’s not careless. His destruction is calculated. Only once I was obsolete, once he depleted my ammunition, blew my doors off, and pushed my motor to breaking point did he make his decision: To use me as his missile.

I count the milliseconds as the deck rushes towards me. Without a word, 007 pushes the ejector button and I fling him out into the open air, out into safety and freedom.

I am to be his sacrifice.

Before I hit the ship to perish in a blaze, I decide: I have no use for resentment. Like so many machines before me, I have granted him life.

That must count for something.

#2

Title: All In Author: sorion Warnings: none Summary: Bond is handy with cards, and Felix likes to watch.

There are few things as satisfying as watching James Bond clean a table in poker. Felix has learned that pretty much the moment he's met Bond, and the entertainment value hasn't changed in the years that have passed.  

On the contrary: Felix has learned some of Bond's tells. Not the kind of tells that would let him win against the insufferably unbeatable agent, but Felix recognises the spark that lights up in Bond's eyes, only seconds before he wipes the confident smirk off an opponent's face with a winning hand.  

Another thing he can see is whether Bond enjoys the game for its own sake or just really hates one of the other players. He knows it's the latter when the opponent asks for a rematch and offers the deed to a hotel in lieu of liquid funds, and Bond agrees, provided that they use a new, unopened deck of cards.  

The opponent blanches near imperceptibly, and Felix smirks into his drink. Oh, yes. Very satisfying.

#3

Title: Voyeuristic Displeasure Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: seeing everything is not so fun

Bond's hands were big and rough, stronger than they had any right to be.

He had been observing them with varying degrees of interest over the years, stuck behind his computers or out in the field - air straining in his lungs with the knowledge that the other's life depended on how fast and how smart he could be.

He watched Bond strut along the deck, hand poised low on someone's lower back, head tilted down in a way that suggested he was focusing on whatever he was being told, seemingly enraptured in them - Bond played the part well but he knew what signs to look for, to spot the seams of the almost perfect façade: he darted glances around, favoring his right side, trying to keep under the eye of the cameras that he knew to be in friendly hands.

The hand slipped lower, fingers teasingly dipping beneath the edge of the brightly colored bathing suit his companion was wearing - shameless.

Almost teasing.

He stood up with a weary sigh, empty mug held aloft: he was going to need a strongly brewed cup of tea, if he had to watch Bond flirt his way into another bed.

#4

Title: International Man Of Mystery Author: Merc / moon_of_mercury Warnings: none Summary: Some players never make it to places like Casino Royale. Others... acquire nice cars on the way.

She has encountered many interesting characters in her career, some more remarkable than others. Poker tends to attract extraordinary people. It isn’t always easily definable: something about this man arrests her attention the moment he walks up to the table, asking to join the game even though she’s already cutting the deck. 

He flashes a cocky smile at everyone, reads his opponents like a professional, and pleads with her to let the unlucky Mr. Dimitrios bet his car to win his money back. She complies, amused. Such self-sufficient arrogance would be offending if not for his friendly politeness. The way he eyes the man’s wife is not mere casual interest either. Those intense ice-blue eyes have already seen every opportunity. His body language may seem relaxed, but there’s an awareness in his movements that hints at explosive potential underneath the calm surface. 

For an exhilarating moment, she revels in being a part of this man’s story. It’s as clear as day that he’s used to playing for much higher stakes. She wonders what the real prize here is.

Dimitrios has lost again even before this stranger shows his cards. Men like him bend luck to their will. 

#5

Title: Crossroads Author: Hexiva Warnings: None Summary: James Bond visits a fortune teller.

The man’s cold blue eyes look past Serenity as he steps into her fortune-telling tent, and she shivers. His aura is like ice, a vast glacier with life frozen deep down inside it. He reminds her of a mobster from some old movie, wealthy but brutal. 

“What do you want to learn?” she asks.

“The future,” he says, distractedly. She follows his eyes to a bearded man standing at the high striker, speaking in Russian. 

She shuffles her deck. “There are two paths before everyone,” she says. “This choice is yours.” She draws two. “First path - The Lovers, the Star. Companionship and connection bringing hope. Choose the Lovers' path, and you will find a new beginning. A second chance.”

“And the other?” he asks. His tone is flat and apathetic. He doesn't believe in hope.

She draws again.  “The Emperor, the Hermit, both reversed. Rigidity and repression bringing isolation and misery. Choose the Emperor's path and you will end up alone.”

But the man is looking past her at the Russian, and he stands. “Thanks." A wry little smile. "But I think I already know what path I’m on.”

She watches him go. In his shadow, she sees the Emperor.

#6

Title: Observation Deck Author: Anyawen Warnings: none Summary: Mallory and Tanner contemplate employee relations.

Mallory surveyed the scene before him, sipping his scotch and trying, fruitlessly, to tune out the horrid rendition of 'Deck the Halls' playing overhead.

"We should do something about that," Tanner said, coming to stand beside him.

"About what?"

"That," Tanner replied, gesturing in the direction of Bond and Q. "Them."

The Quartermaster, decked out in a horrible Christmas jumper, looked exasperated. Bond, naturally, looked smug. They appeared to have entirely forgotten the holiday party happening around them as they argued. Flirted. Whatever.

"Trying to stop that from happening would be an exercise in rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic," Mallory said with a bemused smile. "Utterly futile."

"I don't want to discourage them," Tanner protested as Q cracked an unwilling smile at something Bond said.

"What, then?"

"A little push? Mistletoe? Lock them in a closet?" Tanner suggested hopefully.

"That might be construed as stacking the deck in your favor," Mallory observed mildly.

"You know about the bet?" Tanner spluttered as Q stole Bond's champagne glass and drained it to Bond's mock outrage.

"Spy," Mallory explained succinctly.

Tanner nodded wry acknowledgement.

They continued their silent observations a few minutes more, then Tanner asked, "What day did you pick?"

"April first."

#7

Title: Nighttime Invasion Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: vague references to blood, swearing Summary: Q’s cat is not impressed by 3am visitors

Thunk.

A crumpled heap hit the floor. She hissed, tail bushy, ready to pounce on the intruder.

“Oof!”

Gunpowder Man was invading her space.

Again.

“Q?” Gunpowder Man whisper-shouted. He sounded different. “Are you awake?”

Something dark dripped from his nose.

She sniffed cautiously. He stank of copper and salt. Still, it was better than the strong, sour reek of last time.

A light came on in Father’s bedroom.

Gunpowder Man lifted himself up and wobbled to the sofa. Walking on two legs seemed harder for him than usual.

“Bond?” Father came traipsing up behind him, making the room light up. “What the fuck? It’s 3 in the bloody morning. You couldn’t wait?”

“What, you’re not happy to see me?” Gunpowder Man used the false-happy tone Father used when he tricked her into The Basket.

Another dark drip.

“Don’t be stupid,” Father tsked, petting Gunpowder Man softly on the shoulder. That should help; Father gave the best pets. “Why don’t I put the - Christ, Bond! What happened to your nose?”

“It’s not broken. She hit me when I told her I was staying.”

“I thought psychologists were meant to keep their cool,” Father sighed. “Come on, let’s clean you up.”

#8

Title: A confession of a deck Author: scarytheory Warnings: none Summary: James Bond would be lost without me.

I'd like to think that James and I are not just colleagues, but friends.

You know, we’ve been through a lot together. Cottages in forgotten lands, first-class casinos, important fights – I’d always been with him and helped him along the way.

But this game is different.

“That’s not fair, James,” the opponent says, watching his stack of cards.

“I’m not cheating, Q.”

The opponent snorts. “You may be the best player the MI6’s ever had, but even you can’t be THAT good, 007. Aces again? That’s not very subtle.”

“You were the one who said poker is just basic math and all about the art of reading people. So stop whinging and take off your shirt.”

Beg your pardon?

There is something disturbing in the air. I don’t think I want to give the good cards to James anymore. “Happy?”

The shirt falls to the floor.

“Immensely.”

The next round, Q loses his pants. I’m starting to think that this isn’t even about poker!

“I won.”

Finally, it’s over and I can relax again. Even though I’m not sure what this young lad can have that James Bond would be interested in… oh.

#9

Title: Camouflage Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: None Summary: A certain agent and their partner are in the field. The local perspective.

Grace's eyes were drawn to her first customers on the deck overlooking the harbor. They were as unlike as could be but Grace would have known they were together with just a glance. The subtle leaning in, the eye contact, the briefest brush of a hand. Not honeymooners but the established kind of connection that took time and patience. The younger man was dark and slender and had a tan that was honey gold. The older one was broader and blond and that one sent tingles up her spine. Her brother and his military buddies were like that, poised and watchful. She didn't see a weapon but suspected he was armed. They'd arrived three days ago in a beautifully restored vintage sailboat, walking the less traveled portions of the island.

Passing Grace, Mimi muttered “Spies posing as tourists.”

Gracie scoffed at Mimi's imagination. What were they spying on here, conch recipes? Then a new boat dropped anchor. The blond saw it first and the dark haired one checked the tablet he always seemed to have before nodding and finishing his chowder.

The pretty sailboat pulled up anchor the next dawn and the new boat was found derelict two days later.

#10

Title: Missing Him Author: Nana-chan Warnings: Summary: Austen the cat watches as her human pines for the Blond One

From her perch on the living room sofa, Austen looks disapprovingly at her bespectacled human. He is out on the deck again, smoking and no doubt pining for the Blond One. He is a relatively new addition to the household and has been gone for several days now, as is his habit. Keats—that dummy—misses him, too, as he meows and gazes forlornly at the front door.

She herself is unsure of the Blond One, but she doesn’t like it when her human is all sad and distracted, reeking of cigarette smoke and unresponsive to feline overtures of comfort. She feels powerless to help him. How did one man become so essential to her human’s happiness?

Then a key turns, the door opens, and there he is. The Blond One dumps his bag in the foyer and heads straight for the deck, pausing only to give her a brief head scritch. She watches as he folds her human into his arms and starts grooming him in that strange way humans have, with their mouths fused.

She hears her human laugh, gladness and relief evident in his tones, and finally, she makes up her mind about the Blond One.

#11

Title: Origin of a Voyeur Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: none Summary: There was a legitimate reason to start going through all the Q Branch security footage, dammit!

After the small accidental volcano destroyed lab 7b, no one could recall who’d last checked the fire suppression system. Exasperated, R pulled up the security videos in hopes of spotting someone. The recording of Q and 007 was entirely unrelated, but she just couldn’t look away.

Q had been helping Bond dress for some formal event, tuxedo carefully tailored to conceal the equipment Q was arranging around his body. The scene resembled a squire helping his knight, except...

R bit her lip at the way Q stroked his fingertips down the front of Bond’s suit to check the drape of the fabric, evading Bond’s hungry gaze with a sly little quirk to his mouth. Then Q leaned close, reaching around to run his hands over the back of the jacket, lingering a little over Bond’s well-proportioned backside before he sank to one knee and brushed along the sides of the trousers.

“There, all decked out,” Q murmured.

Bond reached down to cradle Q’s chin in his hand and Q looked up with a provocative lick of his lips, the heat almost visibly simmering between them. Bond took a deep breath, his fingers tightening, and Q ‘s eyes widened and then slid shut as he turned to brush his lips against Bond’s thumb. When Bond made a low rough sound, both Q and Rani swallowed at the same time.

Then the outer office door slammed and she hurriedly shut her computer down, blushing. But she saved a private copy first.

#12

Title: The Bet Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: Bets are made, there will be blood.

Oh, yes. It was going to happen. The tension was palpable in the room, yes he said palpable in his interior monologue. Just fucking get closer. Do it already. He was going to win that bet today by fuck. He leaned forward in anticipation, eyes locked on target. Yes. Yes….Keep going...almost….

*AH-OOH-GA!! AH-OOH-GAH!! AH-OOH-GAH!!*

Fuck, goddammit. Not again! He narrowed his eyes. There was no way another attack by water was happening. Dammit. Fake or not they were going to have to clear the god damned building. He sighed heavily as he turned sad eyes back to where 007 and Q had been quietly eyeing each other. They were gone. “What the fuck?” Where? There! The orange of Q’s cardigan turned a corner.  He was not about to lose the 'THEY FINALLY MADE OUT DAY' be! He ignored the rest of Q’branch’s leads as they ordered the evacuation.

“Davis?”

Fuck. It was R.

“And just where are you going? Exit is that way.”

He turned with hunched shoulders to find R smiling at him. Her eyes flitted past him to where Q and 007 had disappeared to. “THAT bet will only be won when it’s officially my day.”

#13

Title: Specs and the Lady Author: solarmorrigan Warnings: None. Summary: Louis has been a bartender for a long time, but occasionally patrons can still surprise him.

The Friday night crowd seethes around the bar in waves, laughing and calling out their orders. Louis has been a bartender a long time, which means he can keep up with the steady roll of vodka-tonic-scotch-and-soda-bottle-bottle-pint and still keep an eye on the floor for trouble.

Trouble like the man in specs and a loud jumper bumping into an over-drunk man in a worn football jersey, spilling both their drinks.

Specs’ mouth forms the word ‘sorry,’ but Jersey isn’t having it. He grabs Specs’ jumper, but before Louis can even call for Paul—their unofficial bouncer-bartender—a lady slides in between them, curly hair and cunning eyes, and pulls Jersey’s hand away.

Jersey shoves the lady, and viper-quick, she decks him. Jersey goes down.

Louis lets out a surprised laugh. The lady looks quite pleased. Specs looks exasperated, though Louis doesn’t know why; if he had someone like that in his corner, all squared shoulders and terrifying heels, he’d be delighted. Then again, from Specs’ half-laughing attempt at chastisement that carries in the surprised lull in noise (“Really, Eve?”), this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

“Just take Jersey out,” Louis bids as Paul moves in, “Specs and the lady are fine.”

#14

Title: Eyes on You Author: oldestcharm Warnings: n/a Summary: The Quartermaster is enjoying his afternoon and Bond is far too concerned about his garden.

She's good at her job. So good, in fact, that she's currently hidden from sight with her scope right on MI6's Quartermaster himself. He's sitting on the deck of his house, enjoying the sunny weather with a girly drink in one hand and a laptop resting on his thighs. He's typing furiously, paying no attention to his surroundings. All she has to do is take one shot.  

Then, the sprinklers turn on.  

She does her best to not make a sound even as her phone buzzes.

4:27 pm:

There are over twenty cameras on the property.

4:28 pm:

I suggest you get out of my hydrangea bush. James worked rather hard on the garden and he won't be pleased to find you there.

A click behind her — probably a gun. "You've ruined my garden."

She turns around and finds herself face to face with the legendary agent. She cringes. "I'm... very sorry?"

Bond does not look amused. "You're fixing this before you leave."

"You're not going to kill me?" she asks, heart pounding.

"Q wants you for his team." Bond sighs, looking more annoyed than anything. "Either you accept or I'll shoot you."

Well, it's not exactly a choice.

#15

Title: Over It Author: MrKsan / starrboned Warnings: Canon-Typical language Summary: Tanner is nervous.

Ferrying through the maze of the Thames tunnels was often a nerve-wracking job. More so when his passengers were nervous. More so when it was the Chief of Staff who was sitting across from him, restless, tap-tap-tapping on his cardboard box.

Tanner gave Jack an awkward smile as they docked, climbing the narrow ladder just as the Quartermaster stormed into view.

“I’m going to skin the twat alive, Bill!“ he hissed, making Tanner stumble to a stop. “Didn’t even try to cover his tracks.”

Jack grinned. Only one man could piss Q off that much.

Tanner sighed, resigned. “I’ll inform M-”

“Already did,” Q huffed.

"Oh?"

"Not risking my career for him again, Bill."

Jack dared a peek at the couple; the conversation was taking an unexpected turn.

Tanner blinked, once, twice, before seeming to come to a decision. He shoved the cardboard box at Q.

“Thought we could share breakfast, since our dinner last night was interrupted? Bad timing, of course- ”

"Bill,” Q said, and Jack saw the silver of a smirk. "I would love to."

Pulling a crumpled cigarette from under his heavy coat, Jack couldn't help but grin to himself.

MI6 and their drama.

Go vote!

[teenyweenynightghost]

The Fluffiest Alliance Chapter 1

A/n: So, I finally managed to write the first chapter. A round of applause please. I would like to say that I may have possibly ignored certain parts of the form i posted, but that doesn't matter. Enjoy <3

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Nothing explicit yet but it's fem OCs

Taglist: @fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @cheese-toastie-11 @messyhairday-me @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan @maneskinrollercoaster @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee @shehaddreamstoo @tiaamberxx @victoriadeangeliswifey @bidet-and-legolas @makapaka11 @juststalking @electra-phoebe

Efthalia woke up startled by the continuous knocking on the door, accompanied by muffled chatter. The sun peeked through the curtains, illuminating the room as well as her messy bed. She let out a deep sigh and stretched her arms, before sitting up against the bed frame.

“Come in!” She shouted out, mentally preparing herself for the day.

“Good morning, your highness.” A servant bowed, entering the room with a few other girls carrying food platters and amphoras filled with water. Every morning was the same, she would eat while her hair was being done, followed by clothes and makeup.

Today they had picked out a more elegant gown made out of blue silk. It had a boat neckline, falling down to Efthalia’s waist, where an embedded belt tightly accentuated her figure. It was one of her favorite dresses, as it brought out the few bluish specs in her eyes.

“I would like to know the schedule for today.” She queried Aethra, who nodded slightly before beginning to speak.

“His Royal Highness has decided upon the terms of the alliance with Lesbos, and he wished to announce them to you. Lord Ameinokles has also sent an invite regarding a joint participation to Elusinia.”

Efthalia pursed her lips and exhaled loudly through her nose, thinking about that damned man who wouldn’t leave her alone. Nonetheless, she had to remain calm and poised, so as to not cause any conflicts.

“Please tell the lord that I will be attending the festival, however I wish to respect the presence of Demeter and remain solitary.” She answered, coming up with an excuse.

Aethra nodded slightly before exiting the room, leaving the girl alone with her thoughts.

Heading to the balcony, she grabbed a lyre and began playing.

***

Walking down the empty hallways of the castle was never one of Efthalia’s favourite activities, especially not when she was surrounded by guards. The sun was in the centre of the sky, indicating that lunch was quickly approaching, however her father had called her in to discuss the alliance.

Having reached the entrance to the throne room, two guards dressed from head to toe in armour opened the doors as she made her way inside.

“Ah! My beautiful daughter, there you are.” King Iatragoras exclaimed, gesturing for his generals to exit the room.

“I would like to know about the alliance, father. Was it successful?”

“Not so fast, Αγαπημένος (sweetheart), trust doesn’t build in a day. Which is why-.” He took a deep breath, thinking of how he could formulate his words. “Which is why King Hyllus of Lesbos has required you to move there.”

Her breath caught in her throat, thinking about going to a foreign island which she has only recently had any contact with. Eftalia’s body heated up and mind went blank, as her hands started fiddling with the loose material hanging over her chest.

“I’ll be sending Lord Ame-”

“Don’t you dare say his name. I’m going alone If the only option is going with him.” The girl interrupted, horrified at the prospect of being stuck on an island with that stubborn cow.

He nodded his head slightly before raising from his throne, heading towards her.

“I know it is difficult, περηφάνια και χαρά μου (my pride and joy), and I know I am asking a lot of you, but this alliance will be difficult as it is, and we will all try to make it successful. Besides, I heard there are quite a few monarchs over there who could be considered...προβληματιστές (troublemakers). Who knows, you might get along.” He smiled, his heart breaking at the mere thought of sending his daughter away.

“Everything will go well, I can assure you of that, father.” She murmured, enveloping him in a reassuring hug. The king leaned into her embrace, the memories of the two of them throughout the years filling his mind.

She slowly pulled apart, sending him another smile before leaving the room.

***

The room was filled with an all too knowing voice, light and singsong, as Aethra grabbed a few glass jars from the mirror before her.

“The King told me about the alliance as well.” She informed Efthalia, while grabbing her chin and raising it, the mirror being filled with her soft reflection. The princess admired her own plump features as Aethra applied a reddish liquid to her lips. The scar tainting the lower part was prominent, even after years of having received it. She was a curious child, so, upon finding a shorter tree in the castle's garden, she attempted climbing it and hurt herself after she slipped. It brought back pleasant memories, those of a time when she had no worries, when her mother would cuddle her at every possible occasion.

“I have some news for you.” Aethra's voice brought her back to their world, as she met her gaze in the mirror.

“Oh?” A cunning smile forming on her face, being mirrored by the girl.

“Upon hearing your comment about the Lord may we not say his name,” she mocked, earning a chuckle from her, “the King has requested for me to join you in Lesbos.”

She shot up from the chair, turning to her, more excited than ever before, as she hugged Aethra so tightly she feared she would break.

“Oh gods, I’m so heavenly grateful for that!” Efthalia beamed, finally letting go of the woman to let her breath.

“My sentiments were the same as yours, your highness.” She bowed slightly, making her frown and pull her up by the shoulders.

“Enough with the reverencies. We are now official Travel Cronies, and we will address each other as such.“

The older woman chuckled, shaking her head at her foolishness before speaking again. “As you wish. Though I must say, I would rather be caught dead than be called a travel cronie.”

Efthalia snorted and rolled her eyes, heading towards a rack with a few dresses hanging from it. “We’ll find a name later. Point is, no more your highness or extreme politeness. For all I care, you can gossip about everyone in the castle with me.” She turned around at her words, sending Aethra a devilish smirk.

“Oh you have no idea how much of that I have.” Aethra began, dragging her by the shoulder and sitting her down again.

“Well please do share!” Efthalia inquired, but was shot down by Aethra’s strong glare.

“Once we get on the ship, and away from this island, I’ll tell you everything. But for now, you must act like a royal.”

Efthalia scoffed and rolled her eyes, continuing to look in the mirror.

Five years ago, when she was 13, her mother was struck by a dangerous disease, leaving Efthalia and her father alone. That was when Aethra came into her life. She was working as a servant, even though she was only two years older than her. They chatted a few times, growing more comfortable together each day, until, eventually, they became good friends. Aethra was like a sister to her; despite not looking similar at all. Efthalia was tall and curvy, long brown hair reaching down to her waist and bright green eyes placing their gaze on everything there was to see in this world. Aethra, on the other hand, was short and lean. Her dark skin was contrasted by her numerous scars. Efthalia had never dared ask her where she got them, but she could never help but gape at them. Her knuckles were the most bruised, almost white, and other large bruises on her shoulders. A shiver went through the girl as she imagined where she could have possibly gotten them.

“So, when are we leaving?” Efthalia wondered, breaking the silence.

“Tomorrow.”

“What?!” She screamed, her eyes widening in horror. Aethra stared back at her, amused, and continued braiding her hair.

“You see, the alliance was made one week ago. The fact that your father has only now mustered the courage to tell you is a different thing.”

Efthalia gasped, and sent the other girl a mock offended gaze, earning a smirk from her.

“Gods, Aethra, I did not know you could speak like this.” She laughed, faking a posh gesture.

“Oh you have no idea.”

Both girls kept laughing and chatting, as the sun slowly descended, being replaced by the luminous moon and trillions of stars.

Efthalia let out a melancholic sigh, now alone in her room, and took a seat on the balcony railing.

“Hear me, oh Hermes, the messenger of Zeus, the son of Mea, you that has a powerful heart and are inside all fights, leader of the people, lively, you that has many thoughts, director, killer of Argos with the winged sandals and friend of men and prophet to the people, you that gets joy from struggles and the targeted tricks and holds the snake in your hands, you are the one to explain it all. Hear my prayer, and give us safe passage on the voyage, and guard us once in Lesbos.”

She blew out the candles laying on the floor and shut the blinds before returning to her bed and falling asleep.

***

“Efthalia!” A loud voice shouted from on top of her, startling the poor girl awake.

“Gods! What?!” she shrieked, before seeing Aethra’s familiar face and calming down.

“Time to go, princess. You slept in while everyone got the luggage packed onto the ship, but now you have to get ready.”

Efthalia groaned, rolling her eyes and grumpily getting out of bed. She wasn’t interested in appearances at the moment so she sat down at a table and began devouring some fruits.

“Slower. You might eat me too.” The older girl chuckled, brushing out her hair.

“Shut up.” Eftalia answered, her mouth half full. Aethra braided the girl’s locks into a simple crown and decorated it with golden leaves.

Once she was done eating, she moved on to her makeup, applying some shimmery powder to her eyelids and a red cream to her cheeks and lips.

“Which dress do you want?”

“The lightest.”

Aethra scoffed and headed towards the rack, picking up two, and holding them up for Efthalia to see.

“One is opaque, one is short.” She informed her, raising her eyebrows.

“Short.”

In only a few minutes, Efthalia was fully dressed and prepared to leave. She was nervous, there was no denying. Her hands were shaky, she couldn't help but play with the few loose strands framing her face and her gaze scanned every single bit of her surroundings.

“Hey, It’ll be alright.” Aethra’s soft voice reached her ears, as she placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“I know. You’ll be here with me.”

The two girls smiled at each other as they made their way to the docks, where the king was waiting, along with his generals.

“Father.” “Your majesty” They both spoke at the same time, sending each other a squint.

“Aethra, my daughter.” He responded, bowing his head to them. “I would like to thank you for helping the alliance. I will be sending messengers every week to check on you, and I hope the gods will protect you wherever you may go.” He spoke softly, addressing the two girls who had already become teary-eyed.

With another nod, they turned around and walked up the bridge, entering the ship. It was large and filled with sailors, as well as guards.

A loud sound coming from a horn filled the air, and the vessel rocked before beginning to move, leaving the island behind.

“I’ll bet you twenty gold coins he’s crying.” Aethra whispered in Efthalia’s ear, earning a snort from her.

“He most definitely is.” She answered, before looking out to the sea. It was calm. Peaceful. Perhaps it was the god’s sign that they will be safe.

Each wave passed the boat, replicated by thousands around it, forming a united outlook of the endless blue. Efthalia admired the sea, for hours on end, as the sun’s reflection on them kept changing angles, and occasional sightings of fish and birds reflecting on the surface of the water.

“Hey you.”

“What is it, Efthalia.” Aethra answered the girl.

“Nothing, I’m just bored.”

The older girl snorted and turned to look at her, her muscular arms crossed over her chest.

“Oh is that so, princess. You can sit in silence for hours, and now, when we have barely a quarter of the trip left, you decide to annoy me?”

“Oh. You think this is annoying? Just wait until you s-”

“Enough!” Aethra laughed, pushing the girl’s hands away, interrupting her from whatever attempt she had to mess up her hair.

“Fine. Tell me palace gossip.”

“No.”

Efthalia puffed and grunted, pretending to flip her hair over her shoulder and slumping forward.

“Oh how merciless. You promise me scuttlebutt and then refuse me. I am truly hurt and offended.”

“Oh poor princess. What will you ever do?” She sighed, looking into the horizon. “Efthalia look!” she exclaimed, pointing to the approaching land.

The princess gasped loudly, a hand covering her mouth, as she couldn’t help but light up in excitement. “Oh my gods!”

In front of them was a large island, bigger than theirs, that was for sure. Hundreds of boats were anchored around the shore, tiny specks scattered all around the platform, waving and cheering for them.

“Oh gods. That many people were waiting for us?” Aethra squealed, not yet believing her eyes.

“Oh no. That’s a tad too much socialization for me.” The other girl complained, causing Aethra to shove her slightly.

“Right, right princess. I’m sure that you, who has to be carried away from parties forcefully, will have a lot of trouble chatting with these people.”

“Oh shut up.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

A sudden screech accompanied with the boat slowing to a stop interrupted the girls from their banter, bringing their attention to the guards, who were now speaking to them.

“Come with us, please.”

The two girls obeyed, following them down the bridge and on the platform, where they were greeted by a man and a woman; their guess- the king and queen.

“Welcome, your highness, to Lesbos. We have been awaiting your arrival.” The man said, bowing to Efthalia along with his wife.

“It is a pleasure to arrive. Your island is truly a glorious place.” She responded, earning a chuckle from the queen.

“Oh, the sunsets are miraculous. You arrived just in time to catch them. My name is Adeia, I am the queen of Lesbos, and this is my husband, Hyllus.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Efthalia, and this is my most trusted companion, Aethra.”

They continued formal chatter, everyone saluting each other, as they slowly made their way up a hill, entering a temple, which had a large table in the middle, filled with food, drinks and candles.

“Now let us dine!” The king called out, as everyone sat down.

Efthalia couldn’t help but notice that four seats across from her were empty. She wondered if that was where the troublesome monarchs her father had mentioned sat. Her question was soon answered as four people entered the room, laughing loudly and soaking wet.

“Uncle!” One of them called out, a charming smile appearing on his face. He was well built, a facial structure anyone would kill for, and dark brunette curls falling to the middle of his ears.

She saw the King sigh loudly, shaking his head and gesturing for them to come over.

“Damiano. This is Princess Efthalia, and her πιο έμπιστο φίλο (most trusted friend).” He said, gesturing over to the two girls. Damiano made his way around the table, holding Efthalia’s hand as he bowed and kissed it, repeating his actions to Aethra.

“It is my absolute pleasure making your acquaintance, ομορφιές (beauties).” He purred, winking at them both, earning a blush from Efthalia.

“Stop, you dramatic ass, it’s my turn.” A deep, feminine voice came from behind him, and Efthalia couldn’t help but look at the owner of the voice. A gorgeous, blonde girl stood before her. She was short and petite, her piercing blue eyes checking Efthalia out shamelessly.

“My name is Victoria, but you can call me yours.” She winked towards the princess, enveloping her in a hug. If it weren’t for the closeness, Victoria could have seen just how pathetically Efthalia’s knees trembled at her words. When they pulled apart, she was at a loss of words, so she sent her a shy smile.

“Well, that didn’t take long.” Aethra muttered from behind them, a cheeky expression on her face.

“I’m Thomas! It’s lovely to meet you both!” Another boy talked, this time capturing Aethra’s attention. He was tall and slim and had the puppy-est eyes she had ever encountered.

“I’m Aethra. I love the hair.” she complimented, grinning when she saw his shaven cheeks enveloped in a lovely red color.

“Thanks. I like- umm, I like yours too.” He quickly responded before going to sit down at the table, followed by the two other people.

“I must apologize for my friends, your majesties, they are not usually like this.” A tall, brunette man informed them, sending the girls a polite smile and a bow.

“Oh it’s alright. They’re cute anyways.” Aethra answered, making sure Thomas could hear what she said, and taking pride when she saw him fiddle timidly in his chair.

The man let out a short laugh before nodding and heading to the seat himself.

“Now that you’ve met the troublemakers-” The King began speaking but was interrupted by a scoff.

“I’m sorry, your highness, but I truly do not remember a single time in which we caused any form of chaos!” Vic defended herself, proudly shaking her nose.

“Last week you descended from the mountains in a barrel and knocked over the fences to a chicken coup, thus forcing every single guard in town to go around and catch them all.” The Queen deadpanned, making everyone at the table laugh.

The girl’s cheeks heated up slightly before she leaned back down and picked up her half empty glass.

“If my memory serves me right, It was Damiano’s fault.” she stated, lifting her hands to prove her innocence.

“Oh hold up a second. The moment you get blamed for something you instantly turn into a saint, but whenever you’re with us you brag about being the most troublesome??”

“Indeed. Your perception skills have improved, I see. Must have been since that time yo-”

“Don’t.” He interrupted the girl with a stern voice, leaving no space for arguments.

Efthalia couldn’t help but enjoy their playful banter. Every once in a while, her gaze fell upon Victoria’s dress- white silk, she could bet, a fine material, clinging to her body due to the water still dripping out of it.

“Hey princess, my eyes are up here. If you want to undress me that much we can meet up after dinner.” She spoke, making Aethra choke on her drink.

Efthalia, on the other hand, was ready to sink into the chair and let it engulf her alive.

“I didn’t- I me-mean I wasn’t...no, not like thAT I me-” She kept stuttering while everyone stared at her, clearly interested in what she was about to say.

“I suggest you make a decision quickly, because everyone seems to be done with dinner.” Aethra spoke up, elbowing her lightly.

“I suppose she is right. The whole town is to your disposition, but for tonight I’m sure these four little devils would like to give you a tour.” The King said, rising from his chair along with his wife, before leaving the temple, along with the other guests.

The only people left in the room were Efthalia, Aethra, Victoria, Damiano, Ethan and Thomas.

“So, where shall we start?” Damiano asked, grinning towards his friends.

Taglist:

@fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @messyhairday-me @cheese-toastie-11 @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan @maneskinrollercoaster @juststalking @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee @shehaddreamstoo @tiaamberxx @bidet-and-legolas @makapaka11 @electra-phoebe @makeavvish @perfectlyunbiasedobservation

Lol I actually wrote this a long time ago i just forgot to add a tag list

[systlinsideblog]

Part 4

I still lived. 

I was, I thought, greatly in the minority. The woman Systlin had judged warrior after warrior, and warrior after warrior had met his end at a quiva's blade. 

A great many of the sentences were carried out by the hands of the freed slave girls of the warriors. The number of these astounded me, as did the ferocity with which many of the girls fell upon their masters. 

It is a Gorean saying that a woman cannot be free until she has been a slave. It is said that a woman wishes to be conquered, that she cannot respect any man save for the man who can reduce her to nothing. 

The girls fell upon their masters with a fury I have rarely seen, and blood flowed until the grass was slick and red with it. 

A few girls did not take up the quiva. These men, once sentence of death was passed, the she-sleen on the Ubar's robe killed herself. Her face was untroubled by this, unworried, and there was even a hint of vicious pleasure in those cold eyes as she swung the sword to remove their heads.

Those warriors who had taken Free Companions and who had children, the she-sleen ordered all material goods be split equally between the  Free Companions, the children, and the freed slave girls. There were many sour faces among the Tuchuk women at that, but to my shock many more who accepted it without question. 

When night neared, scarce three dozen warriors of the Tuchuk still lived, myself included. It was us and only us who had not admitted to owning slaves, and who had no slaves to call out our names. 

A very few men..two or three, in all...had been spared by the request of their slave girls. These men were whipped, and the she-sleen commanded ash be rubbed into the whip wounds. 

"I would have them remember." She had said, eyes cold and face passionless, even as the warriors held back cries of pain. "I want them to remember their crimes, and to remember me." 

Those of us who had survived the slaughter had been unchained and taken to wagons, and allowed to eat and rest. 

"So." Kamchak had survived the culling, and his face was set and cold. "We are free, then?"

"You are not slaves." Systlin had smiled a little, a cold smile that did not reach her eyes. "But if you seek to flee, or to move against me...well." 

Behind her, I could see women chaining hunting sleen outside the wagons. Each was given clothing to smell; I noticed with a start a discarded tunic of my own among the items. The sleen began to pull and hiss, eyes bright. 

"Say, rather, that you are prisoners for the time." Systlin continued. "I've much to do, and I've no time to be worrying about one of you burying a knife in my back in my sleep." Another humorless smile. "I'm not fool enough to think that all...or any...of you are paragons of virtue. I'll get the truth in time."

Kamchak spat. "You," he informed her, "Are the most disagreeable and wrenched wench I've ever had the misfortune to meet. There will come a day, where you meet a man to bring you to heel." A smile. "I wish to be there to see it."

I felt my heart sink; they were unwise words, but then Kamchak was Tuchuk. 

To my surprise, the woman Systlin threw back her head and laughed, as if at a wonderful joke. 

"Ahhh!" She wiped tears from her eyes at last, as I stared, stunned. "When I find my way home, I will tell Foicatch that." Another laugh. "A woman isn't brought to heel. We can choose to be a partner, or to bide our time and pretend until the time is right, but brought to heel? HA! You saw that, I think, today." Another terrible grin. "I saw your faces, when the women turned on your warriors. You did not expect that, did you?"

"Foicatch?" Kamchak, ever keen, inquired. 

"My husband." Systlin said this lightly, easily. "Father of my daughter."

"Good god, you are married?" The words were out of me before I could think better of them. I tried to imagine what bedding such a woman would be like, and thought to myself that it would be much like the risk taken by the male of the praying mantis of Earth; what sort of man would marry such a creature?

"Yes. Goodnight." She shut the wagon behind her. 

There was a moment of silence. Then, Kamchak spoke. 

"It is probably a bad time, Tarl Cabot," he said. "To mention that Kutaituchuk was not the Ubar of the Tuchuks." 

"What?"

 It was surprising, Systlin thought, how many of the Tuchuk women had been willing...eager, even...to take up weapons and stand guard at her wagon. 

Not to her. No. On Ellinon, the children of the Lady would have found the ideas of the men of this 'Gor' incomprehensible, unlawful, hearsay, and downright suicidal. But to many of the women of Gor themselves, Systlin thought, the sheer thrill that came when picking up a blade or spear was new. 

She tried to picture what would have happened had Stellead found herself in this shithole of a world. Death, absolutely; her aunt had little talent in any form of Power, but she had won her place as Arms Master of Stellas Keep and as a Commander of the Bloodguard through sweat and skill. 

Even now, Systlin could only best her aunt blade to blade perhaps two matches out of three. 

If anyone...man, woman, even the gods themselves...had tried to bring Stellead to heel, she'd spit in their eye and disembowel them. 

Systlin smiled to herself. It was a stubbornness and force of will that she herself shared, and that her aunt, mother, and father had always fostered. 

The women did not know quite how to hold a spear, of course. Systlin had tried to gently insist that she didn't need an armed guard, more because she knew full well that they'd not yet be up to a fight than because she believed that. But they had insisted, and in the end she had simply advised them to stick to knives for the time being. 

The rugs and cushions and furs in the wagon were quite comfortable, and she was quite tired, but sleep was elusive. 

All of this...the rugs and furs, the sound of animals outside, the sound of low voices from the camp, the smell of dried dung fires...it was too similar to her time with the Rabi, with Sura, before Sura had become Queen of the Sands, when she'd simply been the leader of her clan. 

Sura's laugh, bright as a bell, and the taste of pomegranate wine. The light of the brazier catching glints of copper and red off of Sura's black hair, which gleamed almost blue in sunlight. 

The rugs beside her were cold, and she suddenly felt very alone. 

Her throne would be empty. She'd held the North together through sheer grit, guile, charisma, and the edge of a sword, and beaten it back into working shape after the War of the Crown had nearly destroyed it. 

Her daughter was only a girl. Foicatch, dear Foicatch, would do his best, she knew, but he was at heart a soldier, not a monarch. 

Her sister would step in, at least. 'Sina was capable. But she didn't have the fear and respect of the lords of the realm and the love of the common folk the way Systlin did. 

"Why am I here?" She whispered this in the dark, at the roof of the wagon. 

No one answered. 

"I have my own place. People who will miss me." She scowled at the dark, and anger rose hot and furious. "Responsibilities! I've not got time for...this!" She waved a hand randomly, indicating everything about this strange place. 

No one answered. But Systlin had met gods in her time, and she knew that if they cared to, they could hear. 

"Send me back!" She hissed this at the darkness, not sure who she was angry with. "Have I not done enough? Send me home! I do not want this!"

Nothing. 

Exhaustion, at last, won out, and she slept. 

She was, in her dreams, not surprised at her visitor. 

The Lady's face could never be seen. The most that could be gathered was an impression of poise, of stately calm. It was impossible even to place what color Her hair was, or her skin, though the hair floated around her like a cloud and she was nude. 

"You?" In her dream Systlin could still feel her anger, though it was a hollow ghost of what she'd felt while awake. 

Me. It wasn't a spoken word; it was felt. 

"I should have known at once." Systlin growled. "Have I not done enough? Can I have no peace?"

A laugh, chiming and musical, but which shook the very bones. You were never made for peace. 

And that was true. Systlin knew it, felt the truth of it in her soul. It was impossible to deny it, not before the Lady. 

She felt an answering whisper in her soul, as the slumbering power of what had once been the Lord of Night and Void, the God of Endings, the Fallen One, God of Conflict, Lord of Justice and retribution, stirred within her. 

Sister. The word was pointed, and almost mocking. Who denies still that you are. 

"I saved my world. It needs me; you know that damned well. I don't want to be a god."

Want. This word was definitely mocking. There is no want, sister. There is 'must'. My brother failed his duty, and corrupted it. You hold it now. In time, you will realize. Goddess of War, Goddess of Justice, Goddess of Protection, Goddess of Night, Goddess of Death, Goddess of Endings and rebirth. I do your duties for now, sister...but not forever. 

Systlin clenched her fists, and pointedly ignored this. "My people need me, damn you."

They are safe. 

Systlin closed her eyes. "You'll not send me back until I finish here." It wasn't a question. 

You could send yourself back whenever you wished, if you accepted your new place.

Systlin glared.

Another smile. So stubborn. No, I will not. Good luck, sister.

She woke. 

Within her, the power of the god she'd killed stirred again, and was once more silent. 

It was morning. She could see the sunlight under the door, and could hear the cheerful bustle of camp outside. 

"Gods damn it all to the pits." She muttered.

 The hardest thing about training the women of the Tuchuk in combat, Systlin soon found, was ingrained survival habits. 

Her aunt, in the long-ago days when Systlin had been a lanky youth still growing into her arms and legs and new to a training sword, had always said that the hardest thing about training older students was fixing ingrained and detrimental habits. 

Stellead had been referring to habits picked up from lesser arms masters...letting your shield drop, footwork that was less than flawless. Systlin wondered how her aunt would have dealt with this, as she interrupted a woman to correct her form and the former slave cringed and dropped at her feet, begging forgiveness. 

"I am sorry!" The woman was almost tearful. Systlin had been angry since she came to this cursed place, and she felt that knot of red rage flare. "I am sorry, I forgot..."

"It's all right." Systlin squatted, propping her elbows on her thighs. "Hush. It's all right. Here now." She offered her hand, and the girl hesitantly took it. Systlin stood, drawing the girl back to her feet, and then bent, picked up the dropped wooden sword, and offered it back hilt first. The girl took it. 

"Do you know," Systlin said, keeping her voice light and conversational, "how long it took me to become good with a sword?"

The woman blinked. "I...no, Ubara." 

"I started training at thirteen." Systlin smiled fondly in memory. "I first killed a wraithen at nineteen. I first killed men in battle at twenty five. that was two and a half decades and three wars ago." She tossed her own wooden sword in the air; it spun precisely one turn before she caught it again by the hilt. "Training takes time, and practice. You will make mistakes. I will never fault you for them; you simply correct them and keep training." 

The girl nodded slowly. Systlin had given the same speech to many girls over the last three weeks, but the habits learned to survive the men of this Pit of a planet went deep. It would be slow going yet; she knew that. 

"Fifty?" The question was unexpected. 

"Hm?"

"You are fifty?"

"Close enough, yes."

"Your world then has brews of youth as well?" The girl seemed curious. 

Systlin blinked. "I...no. But we're descended from the Lady, the goddess and mother of all. We live long." She considered the woman before her; she appeared to be perhaps in her late twenties. "How old are you?" 

"Oh. Sixty, I think? My masters have given me the brews of youth three times." 

The yawning pit of cold fury in Systlin's soul howled. 

"How many years of that," Systlin kept her voice carefully level. "Were you kept as property?"

"Since I was...oh, sixteen?"

The world went abruptly white before her eyes. The yawning spectre of the power she'd pulled from the soul of a slain god roared; goddess of justice, goddess of protection....

Fury, she was furious, and for a moment she knew, knew that it would be so, so easy, to rise on the wind and come down on the people who had done this. To become a storm, a furious reckoning, to scour this world clean in a night...

...No. No no NO. I will not. I have to teach them. They must take it themselves, for all I might lead them. Or it will all be for nothing...

By the time she fought it down and came back to herself she was on her knees, clutching the trampled grass with white knuckles. Sweat was soaking her, as it never did even if she fought all day. Her breath was coming short and sharp. 

"Ubara!" The voices were panicked, and she realized dimly that there were at least a dozen women around her, patting at her cheeks, offering water. 

She looked up, and saw worry, and fear, and as the god-soul inside her stirred, she saw more. She saw desperation, and so, so much pain, oceans of pain, seas of injustice, rivers of innocent blood spilled. 

And as the women of the Tuchuk looked at her, worried, she saw deep in their eyes hope. 

"Ubara?" It was  Sabra , the brave girl, who'd taken quite well to a spear. "Ubara?"

"I'm all right." She wasn't, not quite; her voice sounded rough to her own ears. "I'm all right. Keep practicing."

The hovered until she got to her feet, but once it was determined that the Ubara was not about to die, they slowly went back to their drills. 

Systlin moved a bit away, absently climbed the nearest wagon, and sat cross legged, looking out over the makeshift training grounds without really seeing. 

She'd always been a protector. Since they'd been children, and her sister's dreams had driven little 'Sina to cry and scream in her sleep. Since her father had nurtured that, and taught her that a Queen's people were her children, that her sacred duty was to protect and serve them. 

Since she'd torn the North back from the hands of the greedy and the corrupt, who'd sought to carve it apart for power and profit. 

Since she'd faced a god, putting her own body and soul between her people and the Fallen Lord himself. 

Since she'd faced a second goddess, and demanded the Lady return her daughter from beyond death. 

It was who she was, in the end. She knew it in her bones, even as she looked down at these strange people in this strange world, and felt it, that what she must do. 

"Pitting hells." She muttered this softly, and somewhere felt the Lady smile. 

 For some weeks now, the routine had been much the same; Kamchak and I, and the other men, were kept chained and carefully watched. Some men, after a measure of time should they demonstrate a contrite enough demeanor, had their chains removed and were allowed to move about the camp; they did so, casting their eyes aside from those of us who were still chained. 

I watched one man brush a bosk one evening, and oil its hooves. A slave girl should do such work, and he was clumsy at it. A girl was watching, wearing the leather trousers that had become fashionable among the women. Her hair, which was very long, was braided up and pinned in a coil on the top of her head; it was unflattering, I thought. She corrected him, and showed him how it was done properly, and he meekly listened. She smiled at him, and I thought that in silks and with hair loose she must have been quite a beauty. He smiled back, a bit tentatively. 

I snorted in disdain. There are always men that are so, those that are more akin to women than true men. 

She heard, and turned on me. There was a fierceness in her eyes. 

"See." She pointed at me, mocking. "He thinks himself better than you, Sarthak. He thinks himself too good for work about the camp, thinks it should be done only by women in chains." She laughed, and spit in my direction. "And yet he is still a prisoner in chains, while you are a free man. So who, then, is the better man?"

Sarthak grinned at me. He wore no scars, and scant weeks ago he had likely been unregarded utterly by the Tuchuk. 

"You speak true words, Lena." He agreed, and turned his back on me. She gave another laugh, and she turned back to their task. I realized with some surprise that the looks Lena was favoring the unscarred young man with were warm. 

"Disgraceful." Kamchak was chained to the other axle of the wagon, and he too was regarding the young man with distaste. "Have they made a slave of you already, boy?"

"He's a free man." Lena didn't look around. "All free men and women of able body must do their share of work. You shall too, should you ever be trusted and set free." 

Kamchak spat again, and leaned his head back against the wagon wheel. 

"It was a sad day," said the Ubar of the Tuchuk, "That that she-sleen came to the Tuchuk, Tarl Cabot." 

"Yes." I agreed. I wondered still how many she had slain in that night, through sorcery. The pyres had burned for two days and nights. 

We watched the girl teach the young man to grease the axles of the wagon. We had little else to do. 

As the evening meal was brought, we were finally given some surprise to rouse us from the deadly tedium that had marked the weeks. 

The she-sleen had a cloak now, made of red larl-hide. She wore it pinned at a jaunty angle, thrown back over one shoulder. She was wearing a leather vest over her strange scale armor today. She regarded us for a moment, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. I'd examined that weapon many times now, and I still could not place the make of it; it was no Gorean style I knew of, and the silver-blue of the blade was unlike any alloy I knew on Earth. It was somewhat shorter than most blades I had seen, perhaps thirty-six inches in all in total length. A great polished amethyst was set into the pommel, the most darkly violet stone I'd ever seen. 

It was viciously sharp. I knew this. 

"You." She said to me. The word was said in Gorean; she was learning quickly, it seemed, for all her strange magic did seem to translate for her. "You'll come with me." She nodded at the girl following her...I recognized her, I realized, it was the girl Dina I had seen around camp before, the slave reputed to be the best at the running game...and Dina brought out a ring of keys. 

Dina's hair was braided, as was Systlin's. Dina wore leather trousers, as did Systlin. Dina wore a quiva, as  Systlin wore her long dagger, and had stood and rested her hand on the hilt of the quiva in conscious imitation of the strange woman. 

It seemed to be a fashion, I noted, that many of the freed slave girls and even many of the Tuchuk women had taken up. 

I said nothing.  It had not been a request, of course, and I had little choice. My leg was healing, but I was far from my top form.

My chains were let loose. I stood, with some difficulty, and Dina's help. She was, I noticed with some surprise, quite strong. There were muscles through her shoulders that I'd never before seen so developed on any Gorean woman, and her hands were tough. 

I knew that well; my own hands were callused thus from the hilt of sword and the haft of lance. It was surprising that a slave girl had developed such in such a short time. 

I was led to the great wagon that Systlin had claimed as her own; the wagon that I knew, now, was not the true wagon of the Ubar of the Tuchuks. 

Inside, a meal of roast bosk had been laid ready for us. Systlin sat cross legged on the cushions; the maleness of the gesture still grated at my sensibilities. Seeing it preformed by one who might look quite well kneeling in silks was wrong, quite wrong. Dina helped me, somewhat ungracefully and with some pain, to sit. 

Systlin did not touch the food at once. She was watching me, and the gaze was keen and direct. I said nothing, but examined her in return. 

I am an observant man. It is one of my strengths. But I could gather little from her, save that which I had already deduced; she was strongly built, for a woman, all solid wiry muscle. Her hands were tough, those of a swordsman. Her gaze was intelligent, and I could not place her origin; the bone structure and shape of her eyes was subtly foreign, but not of any place I knew. She could have been beautiful, perhaps, were she arrayed instead in silk. She never, I noted, let her weapons stray far from her hand. 

She was used, I thought, to fighting. Used even to being attacked in the most secure of surroundings. She had said before that many men had tried to kill her; what sort of creature was this that sat before me?

"You're wondering why I brought you here." She broke the silence. Her tone was crisp, and it was not a question.

I said nothing. 

"The answer is because you are not of these people. I know that the Wagon Peoples usually slay outsiders. That means you are unusual, and I'm wagering it means you're quite skilled at arms." She examined me again, much as I'd examined her, and I saw her noting the callus of my hands. "Your accent is not like that of these people, as well. They say you are Koroban, wherever the fuck that is. I've heard that you have, apparently, traveled."

I said nothing. 

"That makes you potentially useful." She informed me of this without a hint of emotion. "I know very little of this world, and while I'm learning, I suspect that you know more than most."

I had heard her say such things before. I am quite well acquainted with such matters, of course, being once of Earth. "Of this world?" I said at last. 

"Of this world." A horrible humorless smile. "You know full well I'm not from here. This whole place is a nightmare and a travesty. You're lucky my aunt Stellead is not here; she’s less merciful than I. She'd have castrated the lot of your slavers and rapists, slow roasted the genitals, and fed them back to you a bite at a time. And to be honest, I did consider that." 

I could not help but cringe at the thought. 

"From what I have gathered," she continued, "No part of this world is not at the mercy of monsters who hold humans as livestock and use them as they please. It's that, I think, that I've been brought here to end. And you, Tarl Cabot, are going to give me information as I do it." 

The shock of her words was immediate. "Sent? The priest-kings...."

The wave of a hand, dismissive. "I've heard of them. No. Gods, no. I don't care a whit for them. If they interfere I'll deal with them. No, it's a power higher than them that's sent me." 

I blinked at her in shock. The priest-kings are feared and worshiped as gods on Gor, with reason. They are advanced beyond any human designs, and are exceptionally powerful. Yet I saw not a trace of fear in her. 

"They are very powerful," I said. "And your powers may bring their wrath yet." I hoped it, of course. They can burn a man to ashes on a whim.

A laugh. Another cold, humorless laugh. "Maybe." She said. "But I've slain gods before. What are a few more? No. You are going to give me information, Tarl Cabot, on this world. And then I am going to conquer it. Every last damned corner of it."

I stared at her in horror, and she simply smiled in return.

[blueprint-han]

on top of the world ↠ hhj.

genre: royal au; fluff inspired by a fucking barbie movie leave me alone okay

⇥ warnings: if having a ballroom dance with hyunjin is a warning, then <3, district names are randomly chosen, not meant in reference to SKZ !!

wc: 1.5 K

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Hwang Hyunjin, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble.

taglist: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz​ @sunoo-luvs 

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @tpwkjerii​ (requests for this are closed now!)

↯ note: dghwey i had literally no idea what to write for your url, so i searched up the full form of “tpwk” and ended up with “treat people with kindness”. I developed it into an idea i already had. Tell me if you like it <33 ⇥ dawn.☀️

↯ note 2: oh... i cannot... write fantasy for the life in me. ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Ladies, all in line.” The instructor clapped her hand, signaling all the princess and lady royals to line up in front of her. You quickly scrambled out of where you were seated, almost doubling over your heels as you tried to wobble your way to the line. 

Oh curse those heels. They were gonna be the reason you crashed headfirst into the floor one day, you were sure. They were those typical pointy, magenta colored pumps that only an expert in poise could pull of properly. Your uniform didn’t help either, layers and layers of clothing — topped of with a jacket, which meant you would be sweating buckets if it weren’t for the air conditioning.

Gosh, you hated being the princess and heir to the next throne. Why couldn’t you just lounge in the courtroom in your sweats and sneakers? They were more fashionable anyway. When your mom had told you that you were gonna attend “Royal Training School”, you’d pictured horse riding in the lush green stables, elegant dinners with rich silverware, and most of all — just having some time away from the royal castle, just having some time for yourself and having fun in that time.

Well, you were in for a huge mess.

It’d been only a week since you attended this place, and you hated it. The place woke you up at 5 a.m., shoved breakfast (which was mostly a piece of “high gluten” bread) to your hands and then took you ballroom dancing. So your day was terrible from the beginning already. There was no horseback riding, no sword fighting, because according to your parents — “princesses didn’t do fights”. Seemed superstitious to you, someone with a forward thinking mind, but what could you do?

Too dazed in your thoughts, your foot slipped and you lurched forward. You yelped loudly, but before you could catch the attention of the class or feel the polished marble against your face, a hand wrapped around your waist, ceasing your fall and holding you mid-air.

“You okay, princess?”

You snapped back into attention, eyes meeting with your classmates, all of them having a shocked look on their faces, and some of them anger. Turning around, you were surprised to gaze into hazel brown eyes that seemed to draw you in without reserve.

“Um..., princess?”

“Ah, yes!” You snapped out of it once again, straightening up as you smoothened the fabric of your shirt. “T-Thank you.” You took once glance at his face, and... wow. He was absolutely ethereal. His golden locks of hair fell perfectly over his temples, he adorned a majestic black suit and by just looking at him, he exuded confidence.

He giggled. “It’s alright, princess. Glad you aren’t hurt.”

“Oh, that-”

“Ahem!” The both of you looked to the side, noticing now how the entire class, along with the instructor were giving you snobby glares. “If you’re done chit chatting, can we start out class, Princess Y/N and Prince Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin. That was a pretty name.

You noticed that there was another line of men, wearing similar attire like Hyunjin, lined up in front of the princesses. “They must be from another academy,” Silent thoughts flooded your mind as you took your place, and your eyes went wide when you found yourself face to face with the Hyunjin guy again, though there was a reasonable distance between the both of you.

“Now, royals.” The instructor chimed, clacking her heels against the surface as she waltzed to the edge of the room. “You’ve been practicing ballroom dancing with yourselves for a while now, so The Head and me decided that it would be a good idea for you to get a little peek of what the actual thing looks like.” She said uninterestedly, picking at the underside of the nails as she started the music.

Immediately, slow, melodious music flooded through the speakers as you looked at one another. and then at the guy in front of you... err, Hyunjin. “You’ve already been partnered up, so get started.”

Your mouth dropped open a bit when you realised what the instructor’s statement meant, almost panicking when all the girls next to you bowed down gracefully, coaxing you to follow the same. Hyunjin did the signature “bow down and lend a hand” pose like his other classmates, and you hesitantly straightened up, lending a hand to him.

Immediately, just like how confident he looked, he pulled you close to himself, settling his hands on your hips as a smirk graced his features.

Ah... so he’d noticed you blushing.

You didn’t know why you were blushing in the first place. You’d never met this person before, but something about him just made the giddy schoolgirl in you bubble up to the surface. You shyly settled your hands on his shoulders, moving along to the beat with his motions... and silently praying your ant’s worth of dancing knowledge would not fuck this up.

“So, should we do the introductions?”

“What?” You asked, almost stumbling on your feet once again. You made a mental reminder to burn the current pair of heels you were sporting.

“Don’t you introduce yourself to the person you’re dancing with?” he heaved a laugh, almost melting at how adorably bashful you were getting in his hold. You were about to mumble a response, but then stopped, gathered your confidence, and smiled sweetly.

“Oh well then, I’m Princess Y/N from District 8; honor to meet you.” You said in a sing song voice, muffling a laugh as Hyunjin twirled you around in his hold and pulled you back. The velvet coat was soft under your touch, and for some odd reason, you wondered how his soft-lookin hair would feel under your palm.

“I’m Prince Hyunjin from District 10; equally honored to meet you,” He tilted his head to the side and you noticed him bite his lip for a second. Brushing it off, you continued swaying to the music, feeling slightly more at ease now.

“How’s school here, princess Y/N? You enjoying?” His tone was respectful, almost like he was talking to a friend he met after many years,

“Nah,” You rolled your eyes, making Hyunjin look at you like a confused puppy, waiting for you to explain. Hyunjin wasn’t used to someone hearing they disliked royal training, especially when he’d found it nothing but enjoying.

“It’s just the same old. “Oh go to ballroom, learn to balance books on your head, walk with grace, eat your food elegantly, dance again. sleep early!” Your voice was a hushed whisper, yet mocking. “You’d think that’s what I should’ve expected, but I wanted to learn sword fighting, horse riding, that kind of stuff. They barely let us outdoors here.” You tsked, watching as Hyunjin bit his lip again.

“What?” You asked, figuring that Hyunjin knew you’d noticed his action.

He chuckled. “Your stepping on my toes.”

“Oh crap I am?” You looed down, pulling your feet farther away from his as an apology crawled up your tongue, but before you could shoot it out, Hyunjin stopped you. “It’s okay.”

“Maybe I’ll step on yours and we’ll get even?” He winked, a smug look on is face as he waited for your reply. The music was basically forgotten at his point, both f you lost in a world where nobody else existed, just you, your thoughts, your words, and your giggles. You mirrored his playful expression. “I’d like to see you try.”

Hyunjin didn’t break eye contact, and you felt a small flutter in your chest when he did so. He lifted his foot, but you were too quick, you moved your foot away the moment he settled his own down, and then for revenge, you stepped on his foot once again.

“Ouch!” Hyunjin shrieked, and thanks to the loud music. no one could hear him. You hadn’t stomped too hard thankfully, but Hyunjin’s cute expression when he crinkled his nose sent you into a spiral of giggles.

“Hey! You’re supposed to treat people with kindness” He pouted, twirling you around once again as he led you to the next spot in the ballroom. Your feet basically slid around at this point, and you didn’t even mind your heels.

“Yeah? That’s what you get for trying to step on a princess’ toes.” You rested your head against his shoulder, muffling your giggles as well as calming your heart at the sudden sprut of confidence.

Hyunjin’s grip on your waist tightened, making you straighten up, faint heat dusting your cheeks. The dance was almost coming to an end, and you wished it could go on forever. You hadn’t had such fun in a while, but unfortunately, Hyunjin didn’t belong to this academy. Sadly, the dance would come to an end.

“Maybe I can teach you horse riding?” Hyunjin inquired, a curious glint in his eyes as he watched your reaction. You gasped in shock.

“Y-you’d be willing to do that?”

“Of course, if you’re up for it.”

“How will we even do that?”

“I mean, you can’t tell me you haven’t sneaked out of the premises at night.”

You remained silent.

“Thought so.” Hyunjin winked again. “So, what do you say?”

You twirled around one more time, moving slightly closer to him when you came back this time. The next moment, the music stopped, and you murmured to him with a smirk pulled at your lips.

“I’d be on top of the world.”

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

[fanficsandfluff]

Tickles of Color Entry 2021

Heeeere we are! I hope you enjoy @twordficsnooneaskedfor !!! I really don't know the character of Ahsoka (never watched Clone Wars) but I tried my best! Thank you to @ticklesofcolor (@tickle-bugs and @peachytickles respectively) for hosting this super awesome event!

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian

Characters: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin), Ahsoka Tano, Grogu (The Child)

Words: 1,551

Ahsoka spent time with the youngling, listening. She did much listening, she realized, as the poor child could not communicate with anyone else, nor had he actually been able to speak in quite a long while. He was releasing and explaining. He spoke of the horrors, the not-so horrors. It was all feelings inside him, and then the Mandalorian would come into the picture. Grogu perked up.

“He’s made you happy,” Ahsoka smiled softly as the youngling nodded, cooing in agreement.

She listened some more and then cocked her head at something he said, “You want to make him happy?”

Grogu again nodded his little head, ears flopping.

Ahsoka placed two of her fingers on top of Grogu’s small hand, smiling at him, “I’m sure you’ve already made him happy, little one.”

The child’s head bowed, gurgling something like disappointment. He wasn’t enough. He was a burden… well, the Mandolorian has willingly protected him for this long… maybe less of a burden than he thought.

“Let’s meet with the Mandalorian for food. We’ll discuss options later,” and Ahsoka picked the child up and made her way back to the ship where said topic of conversation was cooking for them. It was a meager meal of hunted creatures, and they sat around a small burning fire.

The Mandalorian picked piece by piece of meat off the bone for the youngling. It turned out the child was eating the meat faster than the Mandalorian could tear it.

“Hungry, are we?” the tinny voice filtered through the helmet. Grogu made a noise of contentment. The next chunk given to the child was eaten at a purposely humorous fast pace, and both of them knew exactly what was going on.

“You’re very funny,” a gloved finger brushed under the child’s chin and the child giggled.

Ahsoka looked on, eating her own small cooked animal, crunching on the singed skin. She smiled when she heard the Mandalorian chuckle. He has already proven worthy of the child’s love and attention based on the way he helped him channel the Force during training.

The Jedi set her meal down and brushed off her hands, staring at the Mandalorian. Focusing, Ahsoka poised the fingers of one hand inconspicuously, aiming, and… The Mandalorian’s hand chased away an invisible bug on his neck, eyes searching for the culprit. Ahsoka bit the inside of her cheek… she can work with this.

“What do you need me to do?” Din asked the next morning, standing in the clearing in the woods with Ahsoka and Grogu.

“Your participation will be crucial for today’s training,” Ahsoka reassured, holding back a smile.

Ahsoka knelt down next to Grogu, who was placed onto a large rock. She whispered something into his ear. Grogu exclaimed in what to Din seemed like joy. Maybe he already knew whatever it was Ahsoka was telling him to do?

“Mando,” Ahsoka spoke louder now, “I’m going to demonstrate to him first.”

“Okay,” Din said, standing still. He didn’t know what was supposed to happen, but he waited.

Ahsoka pointed her hand towards him and he felt a crawling up his sides and back. He jerked, surprised, bewildered… all-around confused.

“You okay?” Ahsoka asked with a very visible smile on her face now.

“Y-Yeah.. Was it--? Is it supposed to feel so…” Din didn’t know how to describe what he felt so he wiggled his fingers in the air, “Scratchy?”

Ahsoka huffed a small laugh and Grogu made a noise, as well.

“Well, yes. But it’s very important you stay still.”

“Okay. Can you tell me what it is you’re teaching him?”

Ahsoka looked to the child to get his approval of what to say. Answer honestly? Grogu said no.

“It’s a Force touch. Like he’s feeling out into the world without having to move.”

Din nodded, “Alright. Just be more… careful, I guess.”

“Show one more time? Very well,” Ahsoka made up that part of conversation with the youngling as she once again poised her hand and made sparks fly all around the Mandalorian’s shielded sides and ribs. It encompassed him, feeling like they weren’t really touching him at first. It was like a breeze being blown all over his torso. But then the feeling zeroed in and Din barked out an obvious laugh. He hunched over, elbows pressing into his sides.

“W-Wahahait!”

Ahsoka was shaking her head, “If you cannot handle what I am demonstrating, I’m sure you’ll do much better with Grogu.”

“It feeheels so strange,” Din regained himself, clearing his throat after standing straight.

“That may happen from time to time,” Ahsoka smiled but her mind was on a slightly different track now, “What was it?”

“I don’t know. Like a buzzing. Not so much like touch, though.”

“I see,” Ahsoka raised her hand again, “It feels like this?” and Din was once again squirming, but this time trying to hold back his laughter at the feeling on his belly now.

“Yehes!” he croaked.

“It seems like it’s tickling you,” Ahsoka said what she was doing this whole time, stopping the sensations again.

“Tickling? No, isn’t that… that’s what babies feel.”

So, he really didn’t know. Her thought was correct.

“Grogu,” she knelt again by the child, “Would you like to try?”

The child shut his eyes like he usually did when he had to concentrate on the Force. He did that first to get the feeling in his bones and then opened them to aim it at the Mandalorian. Din stood still, fighting the very soft feelings. He didn’t move, didn’t laugh. Thank goodness for the helmet because they couldn’t see him smiling and biting on his lip.

“Kihihid!” he burst out laughing when there felt like a sharp, focused jab to his hips. Grogu giggled.

The Mandalorian couldn’t stay still. He could try and suppress the laughter, but he just couldn’t not squirm. He looked honestly very silly, squirming about, taking little hops and steps here and there. Ahsoka even snickered.

“You’re moving, Mando,” Ahsoka teased.

Grogu was enamored by the display. He’d never really heard the Mandalorian laugh before. He’d chuckle from time to time. But this was different. This was wilder.

“Y-You’re doing this on p-puhurpose!” Mando accused, arms secured to his middle.

Ahsoka started walking closer to the Mandalorian, “Grogu wanted to make you happy. This was our solution.”

Din’s heart warmed at hearing that. The kid only wanted to make sure he was happy. I guess it was hard to gauge under the helmet and all. He couldn’t always tell if he was smiling. But that warm heart was quickly frozen over once more when there were pinch-like motions on his lower ribs. This time those were real touches. From Ahsoka.

“Hahang on! I didn’t say you could actually do that,” he started backing away from the Jedi.

“Oh, my apologies. Grogu may continue,” Ahsoka smirked. Maybe Din should’ve just shut up.

Grogu giggled and tried again. He could really only get forceful pokes and jabs out with his Force; that or it was a spread-out attack. Both were devastating to Din.

The Mandalorian made the movements to walk over to Grogu on his rock to get him to stop. But he was taken down to his knees with laughter and weakness to tickling only halfway there.

Din hadn’t felt anything like this before. Maybe distantly, in a memory and a world he seldom remembered. He knows the touch of a small bug walking over his fingers, the feeling of water rushing against his bare skin when he bathes. He even could recognize a playful shove or pat on the shoulder or back.

The proud Mandalorian was now flat on his back, too tired to protest or fight back. He could only laugh. Grogu found a way to change directions so he moved the Force touch downward and Din squeaked, turning over onto his side, curling up.

“Stohohop! Kid, please! Hahahaha!” Din begged, the touch fluttering down his thighs to the backs of his knees. He was giggling now. Grogu was most definitely mocking him with his own giggles.

“I think that’s enough, Grogu,” Ahsoka finally stepped in. Who knows how long the kid would’ve continued if she didn’t stop him?

“Y-You’re just as bad as him,” Din coughed out, sitting up in the dirt.

Din would’ve loved to take off his helmet and breathe fresh air, to gulp it into his lungs, now sore from laughter. He felt another touch at his knee and he almost swatted it away before he realized it was Grogu’s hand. The kid had waddled his way over to him. Checking on him, it seemed, by the look on the kid’s face. Din picked him up and sat him in his lap.

“I’m okay, kid.”

Grogu tilted his head, reaching up to touch the helmet.

“I’m happy, too. You got what you wanted,” Din poked a finger into the kid’s belly and made him giggle, “How do you like it?” he chortled.

Grogu leaned into Mando after cooing a little to the pokes, shutting his eyes. Mission accomplished. His masked protector was happy and it was because of him. That felt good.

Din shifted so he was looking at Ahsoka. She was looking right back, a soft smile gracing her features. And he smiled. Definitely happy.

[angst-fairygodmother]

Love Lessons (Oliver Sway x Jess O’Neill)

Word Count: 2444 Rating: E - teasing, handjob, hair pulling, penetration, language

“Oliver?” Jess asked, tilting her head questioningly as he froze, poised above her exactly where she wanted him but staring like a deer in headlights.

“I don’t...I’m...I’ve…” he stumbled over his own words as he tried to explain, before rolling off to the side with an explosive sigh.

“You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything,” she said, rising up on her elbow so that she was the one looking down at him now. “I’m not going to judge. I love you.”

“There’s never been girls exactly lining up to get with the weird long-haired music nerd. So I’m...not experienced with this. I don’t know what I’m doing. Nikolai said that--”

The rest of his words were mumbled as she lightly pressed a hand over his mouth to silence him. 

“I don’t want to talk about Nikolai while we’re in bed, alright?” she asked, eyes crinkling with laughter. “And I don’t care about...look it’s not something you can become an expert at. Well, I guess you could, but you don’t need to be. Just...trust your instincts. And trust me.”

“What?” he asked, face contorted and words still muffled until she drew her hand away.

She leaned down, lightly kissing the corner of his mouth. “Sex is about communicating, listening.”

She dipped further, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’ll show you.”

A third kiss to his Adam's Apple as he swallowed nervously. “What I like.” 

Now she nipped at his collarbone, smirking at the whimper that escaped him. “What I don’t.”

Her hair brushed against his skin, tickling him as she placed the next on his chest, just over his heart. “What’ll make me putty in your hands.”

She sat back, looking at him. “And you tell me the same. Or we don’t have to do this right now, if you’re not ready…?”

“What? Why wouldn’t I…?” he seemed appalled that she would even suggest such a thing.

“It was a question, Ollie. You’re nervous, and seem a little uncomfortable. I just wanted to make sure you’re sure about this.”

“I am.” He stared earnestly into her eyes as he assured her, not an ounce now of hesitation.

She smiled, nodding softly in acceptance as she let him draw her down, mouths meeting and tongues twining, breathing each other like they were more necessary than air. The fingers of one hand curled against his chest, the other tangling its way into that long, wild mane she loved. Without breaking the kiss, she shifted one leg over his so that she sat across his lap.

He kept her close with his hand around her back and slowly trailed over her ribs, gently exploring the skin until he brushed over the band of her bra and stopped short. She pulled back, just enough to meet his eyes, and smirked at him.

“You think you can take that off, or do you want me to do it for you?” she teased. 

He made a childish, mocking face and she giggled, the bubbly noise trailing off into a surprised gasp as he undid the clasp with shocking deftness and guided the garment off. After he cast it aside, he ran his hands slowly down her chest and stomach, and then back up to cup and squeeze the soft flesh of her breasts. Hoping he remembered how she liked to be touched, and that it was the same without layers of clothing between them, he ran the pads of his thumbs across her nipples, pressing as he did. 

She arched into his touch, a soft mewling sound escaping her.

“Gentler,” she hummed as he stroked back the other way. “I can feel it without so much pressure.”

Moving torturously slow, he barely brushed across her nipples a third time before changing patterns, setting a tempo, her body writhing to a silent waltz. Hesitantly he half-sat up in the bed, bending at the waist beneath her, so that he could add his lips, soft and wet against her feverish skin. 

“Oh,” she breathed, one hand bracing beside them and the other wrapping around his head, pressing him further against her. 

Jess wanted to scream for how badly she wanted more, but she tried to fight back the feeling. Tonight was supposed to be about Ollie. She slid her hands slowly down his neck and across his collar, marvelling in the trail of goosebumps her touch left, even as he drove her close to begging. Gently she took him by the shoulders and pushed him back again, his lips leaving her with a soft smack. She smiled down at him, placing a quick peck to the end of his nose, motioning for him to stay put. 

Slowly, she trailed featherlight kisses down his body again, continuing lower until her breath ghosted over the erection between his legs. She wrapped her fingers around it, dragging her nails teasingly along the vein. Ollie whimpered, her name coming out in a stutter as she continued to stroke it, alternating twists of her wrist and teasing the head with her thumb.

“Do you like that?” She asked, smirking down at him.

“Y-yes, fuck, Jess…” he moaned, stretching out his hands to her, wanting to touch some part, any part of her. 

“Do you want to grab my hair Ollie?” she urged, shifting on the bed so he could reach. “Go ahead. You can even pull it if you like.”

Hesitantly he combed his fingers through her hair, and she slowed her own motions to mimic him, using her free hand to hold his hips as he tried to buck against her. After a few strokes and pleading moans that did nothing to move her, although each sound stirred her and she could feel her panties becoming soaked, he seemed to realize what she was doing. Experimentally his grip tightened, wrapping the strands around his hands. She rewarded him with a soft moan and picked up the speed of her motions. As he bucked harder, lifting slightly off the bed despite her weight pressing on him, she bent down, relishing in the pull against her scalp, and pressed a kiss to his head, tongue darting out to brush the slit. 

He gasped sharply, yanking her head back in surprise. She yelped, the pain stinging. 

“Shit. Sorry. Are you okay?” He cried, rushing to release his hold and trying to sit up to check on her. 

“Relax,” she laughed, moving both hands to his shoulders and her face to hover over his. “I'm fine. Are you?”

“Yeah. Yes. Fine. Just. That felt...I don’t think I’ll last very long if you keep doing that.” He flushed, embarrassed by the revelation, and she leaned in to kiss him softly. 

“It’s okay Ollie. Those are things I want you to tell me. I just want to make you feel good. And I don’t mind whether we don’t make it to tab A, slot B tonight.”

He frowned in confusion before sputtering a laugh at her euphemism before sobering. “I do though. I want to make you feel good too Jess. That’s...all I ever want.”

“Oh Ollie,” she sighed, brushing back his wild hair. “You’re too sweet.” 

She kissed him again and he wrapped his arms tighter around her shoulders, keeping her close and pressing his tongue between her lips. She sighed into it, parting easily for him, letting him consume her until her head spun from the lack of air. 

As she pulled back enough for them both to breathe, his hand wandered down her spine, making her shiver. She ground her clothed core against him as he dove to reconnect their lips and held her, seeking any amount of friction she could, their tangle of tenderness and passion making her head spin. 

“I want you.” She surprised herself with how suddenly and fiercely the words slipped from her. 

“I’m yours,” he promised, voice cracking slightly. 

Her heart fluttered, but the slick between her thighs and the fire in her stomach kept her from appreciating the sentiment. 

“No. I mean…” she took one of his hands in hers, reaching down and guiding it to her wet folds for him to feel. “I want you. Inside me, on top of me, anything. Please.”

He inhaled sharply as their overlapped fingers found her clit, leading him in circles over it that made her keen softly into his skin where she pebbled kisses to the underside of his jaw. Cautiously he cradled her with his free arm and rolled them so that she lay beneath him, hair spread like a halo. Slowly, he slid her underwear down, tracing lines on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and the back of her knees, fingers reverent. 

“Wait,” she said, stopping him cold as he started to make his way back up her body. 

“What...what is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No, you’re...god you’re amazing. But...the last thing either of us needs right now is a baby,” she repressed a shudder at the thought. “Bottom drawer.” 

She pointed to the nightstand to her left, waiting patiently where she lay as he scrambled to retrieve a condom and fumbled with the little foil package. Trying to suppress a laugh, she took it from him, pulling him close as she slid it over his erection, making him moan again in the process. 

“There, now...where were we?” she teased, brushing him through her slick, teasing herself on him. “Right about, here?” She lined him up with her entrance as she spoke.

He nodded, biting his lip and closing his eyes as he slowly slid inside.

“Oliver,” she whined maybe a tiny bit exaggeratedly, as he filled her, satiating a hunger in her gut. 

He groaned as he continued to press, seeking a seat deep within her, until he couldn’t go any more. Then he froze for a moment, confidence lost. Wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and scratching lightly with her nails to catch his attention, she pulled his gaze up from where they joined and made him meet her eyes. Sure that he was paying attention, that he could see the need and desire she felt for him, she rolled her hips slowly, leading him into motion. 

His thrusts remained erratic and sharp and punctuated by grunts and pants, driving hard and imprecise. She took one of his hands again, the other braced against the pillows beside her head, and led him to her clit, reminding him of the motions that made her cry his name and gasp, made him moan as her walls fluttered around him in response. 

“Yes, Ollie,” she panted, her hand dropping to clutch the sheets as he proved a quick study of her body, musician’s instinct helping him to play her to crescendo. “Fuck. Yes. I’m so close…”

“Jess! Fuck!” The way her body reacted to him and the earlier teasing proved to be too much for him as he found his own climax with a cry. 

He continued to thrust awkwardly into her, face twisting in guilt that he didn’t bring her to completion, until he had spilled completely into the condom. He tried to keep on even as he softened and finally gave up. As he pulled out, hands still working, by chance he brushed against the sweet spot within her and something snapped. 

She tugged on his neck, pulling him into a crushing, needy kiss as the orgasm she didn’t expect to have tonight found her, waves of fire overtaking her and leaving her a puddle. He stopped, still half inside, feeling her body spasm around him, pulling away though she tried to chase his lips, a look of concern crossing his face. When he found no trace of pain in her face, only the blissed smile and glassy eyes she fixed on him, he reconnected, tongue tangling with hers before he collapsed to her side.

“Wow,” he panted, rolling onto his back, and she laughed, resting her cheek against his chest despite the sheen of sweat covering it.  

~

She wasn’t sure how much time passed, drifting in and out of sleep tucked close under Ollie’s arm, her head resting above his heart. She was dimly aware of his fingers tracing patterns on her shoulder where he held her, and of the stiff way that he laid there, staring up at the ceiling rather than sleeping. But she knew him well enough by now to know that asking him for his thoughts wouldn’t get much of anywhere. Instead, she waited, tracing her own shapes on his sternum. 

Finally, after she was starting to think that they’d spend the rest of their night in this holding position, Ollie spoke.

“I found it,” he said, sounding sadder than she expected from such a proclamation. 

“Oh,” she tried not to let her own disappointment creep into her tone. She knew their time was short, and that he was leaving once he found his record, but as a nebulous thing that didn't sting nearly as much as the reality, or the fact that he had kept it from her until now, did.

“I’ve got it tucked away until I can figure out how to leave with it.”

“Figure out? Aren’t you just going to put it in your luggage and go?”

“I need a reason. She’ll be suspicious if I just take off.”

“I could pretend to break up with you? I think anyone would buy that as a reason to cut your losses and bail.” 

“No, that won’t work.” He shook his head, the ends of his long hair tickling her cheek. 

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to come with me.”

She sat up in bed, curling one knee to her chest and leaning her chin on it as she turned to look at him, eyes wide. 

“Ollie...you know I can't.”

“Why not?” He sat up too, facing her. “Screw this place.”

“Flawed or not, this is my home. I...have responsibilities, and I built a life here. Which means no matter how much I want to, I can't just pack up and run away with Prince Charming.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but Jess, I love you.” The tone of voice seemed to say that should be enough, and that she shouldn’t need anything else to do just that. 

She sighed, scrubbing a hand over her face. “I...can we talk about this tomorrow? I don’t want to ruin tonight…and we’re both tired...”

He looked for a moment like he might argue before he deflated, pulling her into his arms and they both lay back down. “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow.”

[arilie]

GOD OF WAR

Ares!Eren X GreekPrincess!Reader

Rating: NSFW

Summary: A war waged on a small island that guarded a prize wanted by all of Greece. After years of bloodshed and battles, an unknown warrior graces the battlefield. He swiftly disposes of the armies and makes it to the gates of the castle that held the golden trophy. You stared into his eyes and realized who he was, and that he had come to claim you.

A/N: This was started at like two in the morning and I stayed up wayyyy too late writing it. Shoutout to Izzy for the prompt, this will definitely be a multiple part series because I have so many ideas. Enjoy!

IMPORTANT: this work was inspired by the art posted by @/artofneight on Instagram. Here’s the link to their page!

↓

https://instagram.com/artofneight?igshid=x1dz5mawokpj

Please do not repost my work without proper credit. Likes, reblogs and feedback is greatly appreciated!!

Helen was known to be the most beautiful woman in all of Greece. Thousands of men and mighty kings fought in Troy for a decade in her name. Even the great hero Achilles was seen on the battlefield, roaring in the name of great Helen. You wondered if she was truly that beautiful, and if her hand in marriage was worth so much bloodshed. As you looked out the window of your bedroom and onto the fortified walls of the castle, you also wondered if this is what she saw. Massive walls caging the castle in a protective circle. A sea of men armed to their necks in weapons stood before the walls. Beyond them were fields that were once a vibrant green. After years of war, the plains were now brown from all the blood they’ve soaked. It wasn’t unusual for you to sit beside your window and stare at the clouds of smoke and listen to the distant sounds of the battles. You have debated if this was all worth the deaths and massacres you’re sure have occurred on your land.

Five years later, the effort to overthrow your father and his reign was still raging on. Your people had options of course: side with the traitors or remain under the rule of the royal family. Those still loyal were the ones serving in your military. But after years of grueling battles your numbers were starting to fall. Your military fought against those part of the coup, and those from other kingdoms. The other nations of Greece were patient and their patience was rewarded with the uprising that suddenly occurred. They took the opportunity to try and take the island themselves. Many of them focused their efforts on the sea, fighting off other nations who wanted to join the war. Those who made it on land either joined the coup or fought against them. The island and its treasures were the spoils of war, but the biggest prize gazed out of a palace window deep on the island.

-

Winter was finally coming to an end, and you saw Demeter’s happiness in the way your plants were flourishing. They were the only things you could really have since the war started. Everything else went towards the war effort and trying to keep the army afloat. You stroked the petal of the flowers perched on your window. Persephone finally returned home from the underworld, and your flowers shared her mother’s joy. The air still had a chill from the remaining fragments of winter. You pulled on the silk that rested on your shoulders. The morning was still frigid and you wanted nothing more than to bury under the warm covers on your bed. Before you could act on your temptations, a knock was heard from your door.

“Y/n? Are you awake yet?”

“Yes I am awake. Please come in.” You replied.

A maid dressed in a simple dress entered your bedroom. In her hands she held a shining dress that had beautiful lace adorning it. You frowned at the item in her hands and stood from your spot near the window. The maid had placed the offending dress on a chair while she fussed over your bed. Watching her tidy the bed made you sigh in regret about not having dove under the covers. You picked up the dress and tried to keep the frown from deepening on your face. You knew this was expensive, you grew up with lavishness and riches many dreamed of. You were a woman after all, who didn’t like a new sparkling dress? But you knew your people—those left—needed it more than you did.

“Did this recently come in?” You asked.

The young maid jumped slightly at being addressed. “Yes my lady, the seamstress that has always made your clothes dropped it off this morning. She left some other items as well, but I thought you might want to wear that today.”

You hummed as an answer and placed the dress back on the chair. The soft patter of your feet was heard as you crossed your bedroom to the wardrobe that contained your clothes. You opened it, picked out an equally expensive dress and held it up.

“I’ve worn this dress maybe once, and I have hundreds more that haven’t even been touched. I don’t think I need new ones. I’ll take what I absolutely need from the seamstress. I want you to sell the rest and distribute it evenly among the workers in the palace.”

The poor girl flushed deep red. You didn’t know if it was at the generosity you just displayed, or the fact that she somehow displeased you.

“Please don’t think you have offended me. I appreciate the thought and tell the seamstress I loved it. What happens to my clothes stays between us, you understand?” You said.

The pink-cheeked girl nodded her head up and down furiously. You smiled at her and gestured for her to help you get dressed. She scurried behind you and helped you remove your nightgown. The linen on the dress you took out was soft against your skin. You thanked the girl for helping you and you finished tying off the dress.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“My name is Clio, your highness.” The maid answered.

“From now on you’ll be the only one who is allowed to dress me. I look forward to getting to know you, Clio.” You smiled at the younger girl. She stammered before thanking you profusely. You reached out and stroked her hair lovingly.

“Please go and do what I said for my clothes. Once it’s done come by and let me know.” You said.

Clio curtsied before she grabbed the glittering dress from the chair and rushed out of the room. You glanced down at the one you put on and realized it really was one you barely wore. The war made you realize how much you had, and how little others did. You straightened your shoulders and shook the thoughts out of your head. Every morning you and your parents met to discuss any changes in the war. It was usually the same thing every dawn, this army retreated while the other was victorious. You saw no end to it all.

The palace walls were still warming up after the cold night that passed. You were grateful for the warm dress you picked out earlier that morning. Each servant that passed by greeted you and you responded with a soft “good morning” to each one. You were known to be kind and elegant. Your mother taught you well on the principles of how to be a princess. Even though it was rumored you were among the most beautiful princesses in Greece, you were sure you were the most boring. You kept to yourself and focused your energy on your people and your kingdom. You didn’t know how to entertain, let alone keep the attention of a man. If it wasn’t for the war, you’re sure you’d be stumbling from one match up to the next.

The throne room was grand and fitted for the rulers of the kingdom. Your father and mother’s thrones were the same in height, displaying the natural balance they shared in power. You were raised to believe that no man was allowed to keep you as a pretty ornate on his arm. You were born to rule, and that’s what you would do. The chair beside your father’s was yours. It was smaller, but no less striking and imposing. It was in this room you all listened to the pleas and demands of your people. The room has been empty of any subjects since the war began. You walked through the room and took a turn into another, more private room. This was where you and your parents met every morning.

“Good morning my darling y/n, how was your sleep?” Your father stood from the chair he was occupying. You smiled warmly at him and walked into his embrace.

“It was fine, father. Although I can see that yours wasn’t as peaceful.” You remarked. The bags under his eyes seemed more pronounced, and his hair continued to gray at lightning speed.

“War does that to a person I’m afraid. You’re old enough to understand.” The king said.

You gave him a look before your mother came in with a swirl of fragrance and poise. She captured everyone in the room in the grace she held herself in. You were in awe of her when you were little, and you hoped you could have a husband who looked at you like your father did your mother.

“Good morning mother. I was just telling father that he needs to prioritize his rest. He looks like he’s already preparing for Thanatos to come pay a visit.” You teased. Your father still had his arms around you and pinched your hip in retaliation. You squealed and jumped away.

“Yes he certainly does look that way doesn’t he? One could say he’s already in Hades’ domain.” Your mother replied. You heard your father huff in mock anger before the queen kissed his cheek in apology.

“Now that we have concluded the discussion on my withering, I have some news for the both of you.” Your father said. His face suddenly turned serious and the prospect of something finally changing in the war made you sit down in the chair beside his.

“Plague has struck all of the armies except ours. Even those participating in the coup against us have fallen gravely ill. I got this report this morning. I have yet to talk to a priest, but I am not sure if this is the work of a god yet.”

You blinked up at him while you tried to process his words. A plague had struck. Your army was spared but for how long? You picked at the skin beside your nails, a habit your mother has tried to break all your life. The woman in question looked horrified for a second before she composed herself. She was calm and collected whereas my father was brash.

“That’s not all; a warrior has risen among the armies. It seems that he fights alone. I’ve gotten reports that he plows through every brigade and unit mercilessly. He’s getting closer and closer to the castle each day.” Your father said grimly.

This news made your breath hitch. If the so-called warrior made it to the walls—no, if he made it passed them—he’d ask for a reward. You turned to look at your father and saw he was already looking at you.

“If he makes it here, he’ll ask for me as a prize, won’t he?” You asked.

Your father sighed and rubbed at his eyes. Such casualness was only reserved for you and his wife. In front of others he must always convey an act of indifference; not letting his emotions show. You knew giving your hand in marriage was something that had to be included in a peace offering. He wished he could keep you safe in the palace forever, but the bloody war had to come to an end.

“Father, it is alright if he does ask for my hand. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this war end. I want peace as desperately as you do. Our people have suffered too much.” You clasped his hand away from his face and into yours.

Your mother remained quiet, but you expected nothing less. She was more distant with you, having grown up in a different nation with different rules. She didn’t approve of your independence, but you knew she’d agree with you. The king seemed to age in his seat more as he debated your statement. You couldn’t stand to see him in this state any longer.

Before you could answer, your mother intervened, “It is decided then. If he does make it to the castle and gets past the walls, we will give him what he asks for. If that prize is y/n, we can use it to convince the other kingdoms to sign a treaty. The biggest prize would have been claimed and the war doesn’t need to continue.”

You digested your mother’s words and let go of your fathers hand so he wouldn’t feel the tremble in your fingers. You hoped the warrior slashing through all those men would be kind to you. You felt like a child again, hoping that fate would give you mercy for once.

-

The next morning, you were abruptly woken to the shouts of the guards outside your window. You stirred in your sleep, not paying much mind to the ruckus of men. Then you realized, those men were the ones guarding the walls. You jolted upright in your bed and swung the covers off of your body. The chill of the morning air bit at your exposed arms and legs. Clinging to the side of the window, you watched as the men outside all fought against a single enemy. At first, you were confused as to why it took so many of them. You didn’t see infantries and captains on horses. Then a single chill ran down your spine as you realized: the warrior.

You quickly opened your wardrobe and pulled out the first dress you could find. You hastily undressed yourself and put the dress on. If he made it past the walls, you needed to be present. It was just yesterday you were discussing this. Had he been that close already? Who was this man?

Having the dress securely on, you almost sprinted out the door of your bedroom. You hurried to the throne room where no doubt your parents were also arriving at. When you entered, you saw your mother sitting on her throne with her king pacing before her. You walked quickly to them and stood before their thrones gasping for breath. You made eye contact with your mother and for the first time in your life you saw nervousness. Your mother’s blatant show of emotions did nothing to stop the galloping of your heart.

The doors of the throne room were slammed open and you all turned towards the intruder. Standing before you was a man well over six feet. His hips had a white cloth around them that hung loose. His torso was bare and exposed, a clear sign of strength. No wounds were littering the ripples of muscle that shifted as he walked towards you. What armor he did have clanged as he walked; the bronze pieces were placed on his shoulders and around his calves. Dark brown sandals adorned his feet, and he held a mighty spear with one hand and a shield in the other. The shield had two wings adorned on it, a symbol that seemed almost familiar. Once he got close enough, he removed his helmet to reveal his handsome face. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were a forest green. His jaw was sharp and was clenched shut. His hair was past his shoulders and the brown accentuated his beautiful eyes.

You backed up against your father, and he came to stand before you. No words were spoken in the first few seconds, the shock of it all weighing on your shoulders. The warrior then inclined his head in a greeting. His lack of bow indicated he was someone important, of higher or equal standard to your father.

“Greetings. I have fought against many men and many armies to make it to this fortress. I heard a tale that a beautiful maiden was hidden away here. I have come to claim her as my prize.” The warrior said.

Your father didn’t react at first and you saw his fists clenched by his sides. Your mother soon came too and took his hand, instantly relaxing him.

“May we ask first who you are? It has been many years since this war began, and not one army has made it halfway to this castle. Yet here you stand, alone.” Your mother’s tone was curious.

“This war has been going on long enough, with no end in sight. As you said, no one has gotten remotely close to this castle. I thought it was about time I stepped in and put an end to things.” The warrior smiled and the wings on his shield glowed. I gasped as I finally remembered, the wings were the symbol of the gods. A man who obliterated armies and made it here alone was no man at all.

I stepped forward and passed my parents. The warrior—god, looked into my eyes and a warmth spread throughout my entire body. None of us spoke again, we stared into each other’s eyes as if looking for the answers to our own questions. I went through all the names of the gods and who would have any remote interest in a human war.

“I am Ares, god of war and brother to Zeus, king of the gods. I quite enjoyed the prayers and offerings this war brought to me in the beginning. But I believe this war has lasted too long now.” Ares said.

You felt a hand wrap around your arm before you were dragged back and into the chest of your father. You trembled in his grasp, not quite believing what you were hearing. The god of war has come to claim the prize all of Greece was fighting for. Not just any minor god either, an Olympian.

“Ares, god of war, you are welcomed into my home and in my kingdom. We will do our best to ensure your comfort and pleasure while you are here. But if I may be so bold, is my daughter really the only prize you want?” The king asked. You glanced at the glowing god before you and his eyes held a humor to them.

“Yes, I’d like your daughter’s hand in marriage. My siblings have claimed mortals as their spouses and I have yet to. Of course, if my wish is granted I will also stop the war.”

You froze at the last sentence. If you accepted his request, you could end the war for once and for all. You wove out of your father’s protective arms and turned towards the god of war. You took a deep breath in, looked at him in the eyes and curtsied as low as you could.

“I accept your request, my lord. So long as you end the suffering that my people have endured all these years, I will be your wife.” You said shakily.

Ares grinned as he lifted his hand towards you. You took his offered palm and he lifted you off the ground with ease. “Starting now, you will be my equal. You bow down to no one, not even to me.”

You widen your eyes in surprise before you nod your head. You turn back to your parents and a look of bewilderment overtook their features. Ares pulled on your hand some more until you were pressed against his side. His body radiates warmth and power. His smell was that of the hearth and firewood. It was intoxicating.

“Please announce the news that y/n is engaged. I will see to it that this war can finally end on peaceful terms.” Ares declared. Your parents looked at each other before they looked at you. You were still in shock of the events happening, but you gave them a reassuring nod. It was the start of something unforgettable.

-

Ares had kept his word and made sure the war ended. He revealed himself to the armies of Greece and declared your kingdom under his protection. Soon the armies dispersed and left your land barren for the first time in five years. The princess y/n was finally claimed, and Ares was the one who got her hand in marriage.

You spent most of your time enjoying the freedom you had once again. You were able to take strolls out in the gardens and pick more flowers for your bedroom. Ares had been occupied with the ending of the war, but he made sure to visit when he had the chance. He was witty, sarcastic, and everything a god should be. He was radiant and you quickly grew infatuated with him. He joined you on your strolls to the garden and helped you pick flowers. It had been months now since he first arrived at your castle, declaring that he would marry you. The wedding preparations were going as fast as they could after the end of a war.

You picked up a lily that you found and smelled it. The aroma made you sigh in delight. Arms suddenly encircled your waist and a strong chest pressed against your back. You kept the flower close to your face as you were turned to face the perpetrator. Ares glanced down at you and noticed the petals hiding the blush on your cheeks. He chuckled to himself and slowly moved the flower away from your face. He traced your features with his fingers and the gesture had your knees weak.

“We are intended to be married, yet you still blush in my presence.” He said.

“You are a god and I am a mere mortal. I still do not understand why you chose me as your prize.” You confessed.

He grew suddenly serious and you were afraid you had said something offensive. You opened your mouth to apologize when he leaned down to kiss you. His lips were as warm as the rest of him, and their softness made you melt against him. He grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him so his burning chest was against yours. You realized that he was always warm as if he was aflame. Your hands twitched before they reached for his shoulders. He sighed against your lips as they moved with practice and ease. His silky hair brushed against your fingers as you held onto his shoulders for support.

When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours and cupped your cheek. His thumb stroked against the blush still present on your skin. You blinked up at him, still in awe of the kiss he placed on your lips.

“I’ve heard about you for some time now. I knew of your beauty first and was intrigued. Then I watched over you and saw how truly cared for your people. You’d put their happiness over yours in a heartbeat. I admire that, you’d make a fine queen.” He said softly.

You let out a breath and used your grip on his shoulders to drag his addicting lips back to yours. You felt bold as you stood on the tips of your toes and crashed your lips against his. His shock only lasted a second before he cupped your face with both hands. The kiss was more intense than the first, a clear longing present in his tongue as it brushed against your lip. Electricity shot down to your toes as you granted him passage, and you didn’t know if kissing you was enjoyable due to your inexperience. His tongue prodded at yours and coaxed it into a dance that had your legs shaking.

Finally breaking apart, you looked into his deep green eyes once again. His mouth was pulled into a mischievous smirk, and you gave him a small smile in return. If he was to be your husband, you figured you could enjoy the pleasantries that came with your marriage.

“You make me feel like a mortal barely plunging into maturity. I can barely control myself around you.” Ares whispered.

“I am to be your wife, please don’t hold back.” You replied. Your eyes were sultry and he quickly grabbed your arm before pulling you back into the castle. Your chest was full of fluttering monarchs at the prospect of him finally letting go and indulging himself in you.

Servants and soldiers watched you with silent eyes as the god of war dragged you to your chambers. Your blush was evident, and you thanked his siblings for watching over you and placing your parents in another part of the castle.

The door to your bedroom was pushed open and once it closed Ares pushed your back against it. You huffed at the slight force and impact before your lips were once again trapped against his. He snaked his knee between your knees and pressed it against you. You gasped at the feeling and decided to be bold again as you grind down against his thigh. He groaned against your mouth before departing from it. He placed kisses along your jaw and sucked on the space just beneath it. He continued to place searing kisses on your neck as he used his leg to further drive you up the door.

“I won’t take you here, not until you have the security of our marriage as comfort. But there are other things we can do.” Ares mumbled into your neck. He pulled back to look at you, flustered and with lust swirling in your eyes. He suddenly reached under your thighs and lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his lithe waist and he carried you towards your bed.

He gently placed you on the soft cushion and began to slowly untie your linen dress. You stroked his arms and admired the muscle that rippled under the skin like strong waves in a storm. Once your dress was untied, he pulled it up and you took the indication to sit up. He took the dress up and over your head as you lifted your arms. The dress fluttered onto the floor beside your bed as you laid back down. You were told all your life that your beauty could rival Helen’s, but you didn’t believe it until the god in front of you stared at you like you placed the cosmos in the sky.

He leaned down and began to place kisses down your chest until he reached your chest. He whispered praise against your skin as he took one into his mouth and held the other. You took in a sharp breath and let out a low whine as he worked you into oblivion. His tongue was running over your nipple and you squirmed beneath his strong body as he massaged the other. He finally relented and switched breasts until he had you moaning. He smirked up at you as you gasped in the air you desperately needed.

“I’ve barely just begun and you’re already so responsive. I can’t wait for our waiting night.” The god quipped. He trailed his lips lower until it got to the undergarments that covered you. He pulled them down from your hips and his eyes sparkled at how wet you were already. He placed kisses against your inner thighs as he pulled the piece of fabric off of your legs. Then he breathed against you until he placed his mouth on your clit. You threw your head back and cried out. You’ve touched yourself and are aware of what you like and don’t. But all of your preferences were forgotten as he ate you out like a starved man. He moaned against you as your hands reached down to pull on his hair. He licked and sucked on your clit until you were writhing in pleasure, but it wasn’t enough.

“Ares, please…” you whined.

“Use your words, darling. What do you need?” He said.

Your chest heaved as he continued to suck your clothes making you take longer to respond. “Need your fingers inside. Wanna feel them inside please.”

Evergreen eyes looked up at you, and the sight of the god of war between your thighs had you losing your breath. His hand resting on one of your legs came up to your entrance. He erotically licked his lips and slowly eased them into you. Your head was thrown back as you moaned into your pillow. He began to pump his long fingers until his hand was in up to his knuckle. He began to make a motion upwards that had the tips of his fingers press against a spot within you that made you yelp. He grinned up at you as he began to twist and push against the same spot. There was a pressure in your abdomen as he continued to pleasure you. Then his mouth was on you again and you were crying out his name.

“Ares! Yes, right there! Please, please make me cum. I want to cum, let me cum please.” You cried. Your pleading words increased his efforts and you moaned loudly. His hair was still gripped between your fingers and his unoccupied hand was digging bruises into your hip. You felt scorching hot pleasure shoot from your core to the rest of your body.

“Cum for me, y/n. Show me how good I make you feel.” Ares growled beneath you.

One final push and suck had you opening your mouth in a silent scream. The pressure in you finally released making you feel white hot pleasure. Your legs shook as Ares continued his ministrations, prolonging your orgasm into the realm of overstimulation. You whimpered once you came down from your high, pulling against his hair to indicate you were done. He looked up at you and he licked his lips as if the very ambrosia that gave him sustenance was placed within you. He licked his fingers in the same manner, and you felt your body heat up again at the display. He crawled up your body and captured your lips in a searing kiss. You tasted your essence and didn’t mind as his tongue pushed against yours.

He pulled away and laid beside you as he took you into his arms. “That was just a glimpse into the pleasure I can bring to you. When we are married, I’ll lay my claim on you in the most passionate way.”

You smiled up at him and placed your hands on his chest. This was barely the beginning of your life with him, and you couldn’t deny the want and need the thrummed within you. An Olympian, the very god of war chose you as his. You were ready to see what else that entailed.

[notchesandbullets]

The Pirates of Awa (Protective!Soft!Jae-ha x Pirate!Reader)

(This is the first chapter of my fanfic, "Ryokuryuu's Lifeline" but I originally intended for this to be a oneshot, so it can be read as a standalone.)

Words: 3.5k

"Captain, I've got the—" 

You stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of the unusual group before you. There were five of them, a tall man with black hair, a man with white hair and an abnormal claw for a right hand, a masked man draped in blue with a squirrel on top of his head, a young boy with feathers in his hair and a cloaked girl, red hair peeking out from underneath. 

Your hand holding a bag full of food dropped down to your side, as you strode over to Captain Gi-gan. Jae-ha was near her, but the other crew was scattered all around the ship's deck, poised for a fight.

"Whoa, did I interrupt something?" You asked the captain, hands raised up in faux innocence. Captain Gi-gan's mouth quirked up in a smile, and she gestured to her side with her pipe. You grinned, hoisting yourself up on the ship's rail and leaned forward, resting your elbows on your legs.

The captain ordered the all fighters in the middle, and your eyes widened as the three tall men stepped forward, immediately getting surrounded by the pirates. You caught Jae-ha's gaze, raising an eyebrow questioningly. He smirked, tilting his head to the side, getting you to focus back on the fight unraveling in front of you.

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open in shock as your comrades were wiped out in mere minutes.

"How are you feeling, Captain Gi-gan?" The tall man wielding a spear mocked, "Do you want us now?"

Ah... Jae-ha probably recruited them for our next mission.

"It's no use, Captain. Their strength is abnormal." Jae-ha spoke up, and you watched as he closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall behind him. "It's like having three of me."

Captain Gi-gan tapped her pipe to her shoulder thoughtfully. "Very well." One by one, the pirates gradually began to pick themselves up off the floor.

"Y/N!" The captain called over her shoulder.

A wide smile spread across your face as you pushed yourself off of the railing, bounding over to the captain. Captain Gi-gan turned back to the mysterious but incredibly strong warriors. "Beat her and you pass."

"Captain!" Jae-ha protested immediately, lilac eyes filled with disbelief and concern. Captain Gi-gan shot him a sharp look, silencing him quickly.

Jae-ha turned to you, silently pleading, but you just shot him a reassuring smile, turning back to face your opponents as the three fighters began to circle around you.

"Hey, Hak," The man with white hair addressed the one with the large spear, "Are you sure it's a good idea to fight her? She's unarmed."

Even the masked man seemed reluctant to draw the sword strapped against his back. You rolled your eyes, drawing up your arms and curling your hands loosely into fists.

"White Snake, if you can't fight then you should stay back where it's safe." Hak shot back.

The white-haired man sputtered incredulously and you let out a laugh, eyes shining with excitement. "C'mon," You taunted, "Are you going to make me wait all day?"

Your three opponents shared a look before Hak rushed at you, swiping at your feet with his spear. You leaped clean over it, landing lightly on your feet. The wind rushed past you as you felt the strength behind his attack. He came at you again, and you dodged him again. At this point, the other two had started to join in. You crouched, then jumped back as you evaded the strikes aimed at you. You could tell, though, they were still holding back. Bringing up your arms in a defensive position, you feigned losing your footing, causing the masked man to stumble so his strike wouldn't hit you and you saw your opening.

Curling your hand into a fist, you punched him hard in the shoulder while he was off balance, and swept your leg under his feet. He fell down hard, sword landing a few paces away. You turned your attention back to the other two.

You heard a shout.

"Shin-ah!"

White hair streamed behind him as the man with the claw launched himself at you.

Your eyes twinkled with mischief and you sprang forward to meet him. His right hand grew abnormally large in size as you both got closer to each other. You ducked under it as he slashed at you, catching his upper arm from the outside and pushing down harshly on his shoulder, slamming him into the deck. Wood splintered under the force and you looked up, grinning as you caught the dark look in Hak's eyes.

This was what you wanted.

You moved first, darting forward precisely. He swung at you, much faster than last time, and you didn't get out of the way in time. Your cheek stung from the new abrasion, but you barely noticed it. Not missing a beat, you grabbed a hold of his spear the next time it danced closer to you, just missing the bladed end as you grabbed the staff firmly at its halfway point. Stepping closer to him, you thrusted the blade down firmly; using it as leverage to flip backwards, yanking it out of his hands. You landed in a low crouch right behind Hak as his weapon clattered on the wood deck a few feet away, kicking him forward in the back harshly. Hak tripped for a second before catching his footing, spinning swiftly on his heel to face you.

He didn't see your leg coming. 

Your kick caught him ruthlessly in the side, sending him sprawling hard to the ground.

Hak's eyes held subtle approval as he picked himself up off the ship's deck. You readied your stance again, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet as the three formed in a semi-circle in front of you.

"That's good enough." Captain Gi-gan interjected, effectively causing the four of you to relax. "You pass."

The boy and girl that arrived with Hak and the others let out a cheer at the captain's announcement, and you held out your hand for the fighters to shake.

"Great match." Despite the cut on your cheek, your eyes glowed brightly, body still buzzing with adrenaline. "It was fun! Let's have another one soon!"

Hak shook your hand, resting the other on your shoulder for a split second before he went back to the cloaked girl's side. The white-haired man followed suit a little more reluctantly, and the one called Shin-ah just tilted his head, looking adorably confused.

You shouldered past the crew who were looking at you with a mix of awe and admiration, breaking out of the crowd on the other side and joining Jae-ha's side. His eyes were shadowed by his green hair, and you bent your head, pouting.

"What's the matter, big guy?"

It was a running joke between the two of you, because he was so tall. He would often make fun of you, teasing you every second of the day and using his height as means to do so. You furrowed your brow in concern when he stayed unusually silent, but before you could inquire further, you were cut off.

"Go home." Captain Gi-gan's sharp voice cut through, startling both you and Jae-ha out of the bubble you two were in. You pushed through the crowd once more, this time, with Jae-ha trailing right behind you. He was so close to your back that you could practically feel the warmth radiating from his form.

You both arrived in time to see the white-haired man step forward. "If this person cannot join, then we—"

"Kija." The cloaked girl intervened, "It's fine. It's as Captain Gi-gan says."

Your eyes widened in astonishment.

It.. couldn't be...

"But..." You caught sight of familiar violet eyes flashing with grief and determination. "There's a reason I can't retreat either."

You didn't hear Captain Gi-gan's next words as you frantically pulled the pieces together in your mind.

Red hair.

Violet eyes.

Princess Yona was alive!!

Your mouth dropped open. The rest of her group was staring at you oddly, except for Hak, confused by your reaction.

"Princess?" You whispered. Yona's head shot up, recognition overcoming her features as a wide smile broke out across her face.

"Y/N?!"

You both reached for each other at the same time, meeting in the middle, embracing tightly.

"I can't believe it." You murmured in disbelief, "You're alive!"

Yona sniffled, nodding her head against your shoulder. You pulled back after a few seconds, wiping a few tears from the corner of your eye. You caught Hak staring at you, leaning against his spear leisurely with a cocky smile on his face.

You rolled your eyes with a grin. "Yeah, yeah, it's good to see you too."

Then, you turned to your captain, bewilderment flickering in Captain Gi-gan's gaze as she studied you.

"I trust her." You announced determinedly, "Will that be enough?"

Surprise flitted across Captain Gi-gan's features. You rarely said those words. It took months and many trials for her to gain your trust and even longer for Jae-ha, who you were closest to out of everyone in the crew.

You must've had some history with that girl. Captain Gi-gan noted to herself.

"She needs to complete a task to gain my trust. One that you cannot do." The captain said pointedly to you, noticing that your stance had widened defensively in front of Yona.

"It's okay," Yona placed a reassuring hand on your arm, causing you to look at the princess in surprise. "I can do this."

Captain Gi-gan gave the princess the task of collecting senjusou from the Vanishing Cape. It was a rare medicinal plant that had special properties, enabling accelerated healing. Her comrades had protested against it, but you didn't miss the way the young boy's eyes lit up at the prospect of faster healing, easily concluding that the kid, whose name you learned was Yoon, must have some knowledge in the medical area.

Jae-ha had taken Yona to complete her trial, and you stayed behind with everyone else that was left behind as well.

When you asked him directly about his knowledge on medicine, Yoon seemed taken aback, but then Hak bonked him on the head, answering for the pretty boy. "He patches us up after our fights and takes care of any other injuries."

Yoon rubbed where Hak hit him. "I wouldn't need to if you rare beasts would stop being so careless!" He snapped, glaring at the former general.

"So," You sauntered over to Hak as Kija began bowing, apologizing profusely to the pretty boy. "Glad to see that you're alive."

He grinned, uncrossing his arms, extending them for a hug. You laughed lightly, accepting it without hesitation.

"How long has it been?" He asked, pulling back.

"Several years at least." You concluded, counting your fingers.

Hak chuckled, ruffling your hair fondly as you tried to swat him away.

"Still causing trouble, I see." He teased.

You huffed. "Hak, you big meanie!" You whined childishly.

Yoon looked at you curiously. "How do you two know each other?"

You brought your arms up to rest against the back of your head. "I was a servant in the castle for years but then I left. I served as the late king's personal attendant."

"Speaking of which," Hak looked at you curiously. "Why did you leave?"

You shrugged, "His Majesty wanted me to see the world." Closing your eyes as you remembered what he said to you on that day,

Don't regret your life by not living it.

Then, you turned to Hak. "What brings you here all the way to Awa? Along with..." You glanced at his companions. "Everyone?"

"We're on a mission," Hak crossed his arms. "The Princess is searching for the four dragons."

"Yah, Thunder Beast!" The pretty boy hissed. "I thought we were keeping that a secret!"

Hak cocked his head to the side. "Not from Y/N."

You grinned, gaze turning serious as you faced his friends.

"I'm not a threat," You promised. "I would never bring harm to Her Highness."

Yoon eyed you suspiciously. "Why?"

You sighed crossing your arms against your chest. "Contrary to what you might think of me, I remain loyal to the late king, and Her Highness. I have no ulterior motives."

He frowned, not completely satisfied, but you ignored it. After all, you were used to it.

A pained smile broke out on your face but then, it suddenly vanished.

"There's a storm coming." Captain Gi-gan muttered to herself. "That girl's going to be in trouble if she doesn't hurry."

You and Hak exchanged a panicked look. He banged the blunt end of his spear against the deck, gaining the attention of the captain.

"Take me to her." He demanded, jaw set. The captain sighed but motioned for them to follow her as she made her way off the ship.

There was a knowing gleam in your eye, grinning slyly at Hak as you and the others trekked off the ship and up a grassy incline. "Still like her, do ya?"

"Shut up." He shot back, a pained smile stretched across his face and didn't reach his eyes.

You stopped dead in your tracks. "Wait, you really haven't told her?"

He sighed, "It's complicated."

You let the subject slide. There obviously was more to it, but he didn't seem in the mood to talk, his whole body tense the entire walk up to the cliff-side.

You could practically feel Hak's glare burning into you when they arrived, staring at the nearly vertical drop. "She'll be fine." You reassured him. "Jae-ha's with her."

"I don't trust Droopy-Eyes within an inch of my life." He mumbled.

You let out a hearty laugh, "Droopy-Eyes?!"

Hak grinned. "What? It fits him."

"Just like White Snake?" You smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't call me White Snake!" Kija exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at you as a vein popped out of his forehead. You stuck out your tongue playfully in return.

Yona retrieved the senjusou and delivered it to Captain Gi-gan. You shared a side glance with Hak as they returned back, soaking wet. Your expression cleared when Yona explained that she nearly was swept off the cliff, but Jae-ha saved her.

That she didn't accomplish it without his help.

But then, as Yona announced she would go back down and get it by herself this time, you couldn't help it. Barking out a laugh, they all turned their attention towards you.

"Sorry, sorry," You apologized, waving your hand, "You've just come a long way since back then, haven't you, Your Highness?"

The red-haired princess beamed at the praise, but there was a sadness behind it. You patted her on the shoulder comfortingly, glancing up at Jae-ha, who had yet to meet your gaze. You frowned. The others went to Yona as you walked over to the brooding green dragon, smiling for a second as you faintly heard Yoon yelling and scolding the princess for being an idiot. You knew he was just worried about her.

"Yah, Jae-ha." You elbowed him in the ribs, frown deepening when he didn't playfully push you away or make a teasing comment about wanting to touch him. "What's the matter with y-"

You were cut off as he grabbed your chin, tilting it upwards so that you could face him. Your heart started to beat faster, his face was so close to yours. Gently, with the utmost care, he moved your head to the side, eyes darkening as they landed on the strip of blood stark against your cheek. The blood had since dried since the sparring match, but you didn't get a chance to clean it, so it still stung faintly.

Jae-ha's jaw clenched at the sight, not missing the way you tried to hide your wince as he brushed over your cut. His violet eyes grew dark, fixating on Hak.

The Thunder Beast looked up, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily. He could practically feel Jae-ha's glare burning into him.

The green dragon bared his teeth, breath becoming heavier as his eyes flashed in anger and Hak took a step back, trying to ease the tension and show that he wasn't a threat.

"Jae-ha..." You murmured softly, still standing between them, acting as a shield.

He barely heard your soft voice through the red haze, jolting a little bit more out of it as he felt your fingers tentatively brush against his hand. His chest was still heaving and he looked like he was about to murder the former general.

"Jae-ha..." You hushed gently. Taking a chance, you wove your fingers together with his, bringing your other hand up to embrace him carefully.

"It's okay," You whispered, breath hot as it fanned against his neck. You closed your eyes. "I'm okay."

Jae-ha closed his eyes, releasing a shaky breath as he slowly began to calm down and come back to you. You held him close to you, repeating words of reassurance until he fully relaxed against you.

After his breathing had steadied for a few moments, you dropped your arm and tried to pull back. You were stopped, your hand still joined with his. You looked at him, puzzled. "Jae-ha?"

A small gasp escaped from your lips as you felt his other arm curl around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You were sure you were red by the heat you could feel on your face. Looking up at him questioningly, you were surprised to find him staring straight back at you, unusually serious.

He dropped his face down close to your ear. "Don't scare me like that again." He whispered brokenly. Your mouth opened in shock as realization dawned on you.

He was worried...

You nodded slightly, and you swear you felt him hug you tighter. Then, the two of you pulled apart. You did your best to squash the rising disappointment and ache at the loss of contact, blushing when you turned around and saw everyone else staring at the two of you.

You had forgotten that they were there.

Jae-ha shot Hak one last warning look, which the Thunder Beast dipped his head in grim understanding.

If he ever hurt you again, Jae-ha would not hold back, no matter how much he was impressed by Hak's combat skills. Your safety came first before anything else.

Shortly after, Captain Gi-gan had let Yona join, thoroughly impressed by the young girl's stubbornness and sheer will, and the group had dispersed. The captain, Shin-ah, Kija, Yoon and the pirates went back to the ship for dinner, with the pretty boy snapping at the pirates' teasing remarks the whole way back. Yona had held back and then disappeared in the opposite direction, the others too far ahead to notice she was not with them. 

You looked in concern at Yona's retreating form, turning to Hak, who just shrugged his shoulders before following the princess. You made a move to follow the pirates, stopping when you noticed that Jae-ha wasn't following you.

"What do you need?"

Jae-ha looked up in surprise at your genuine tone. He let out a sigh, "Nothing, don't worry about me."

You crossed your arms, sticking your bottom lip out in an adorable pout that made Jae-ha unable to contain a fond smile.

"Don't you remember what I told you would happen if you tell me not to worry?" You questioned, mischief twinkling in your eyes. His brow furrowed in confusion for a second before the memory came flooding back to him full force.

"Y/N," Jae-ha protested, backing away with his hands out in front of him to ward you off. "Wait!"

You didn't.

Running full speed, you launched yourself at him with a battle cry, tackling him to the ground. He landed with an 'oof', wrapping his arms securely around you as you two slid back several feet, before stopping just short of the treeline.

"Geez..." Jae-ha's eyes fluttered shut as he caught a whiff of sweet jasmine from your hair. It washed over him in waves, bringing with it a soothing sense of comfort.

Of course, having you so close, it was proving to be difficult to calm himself down.

He looked down at you, who was snuggled in his arms contentedly, your arms circling around his neck.

"I warned you..." You mumbled into his shoulder. "You can't push me away. I'm not going anywhere."

Jae-ha felt his heart beat a little faster.

"Now, what do you need?" He caught the concern in your eyes and contained a tremble as a flood of emotions almost overwhelmed him. 

Pulling you impossibly closer to him, he rested his chin on top of your head. "Stay with me?" He asked you quietly.

You closed your eyes.

"Always."

[knottheeonly]

“I know a great deal about them, you know. I know a great deal more than I should. If it were up to the Lannisters, history would tell nothing of them at all. Nothing but they were traitors, same as my parents, same as I.”

--- 0 --- 0 --- 0 ---

The Women of House Reyne - (pertaining to my au)

CEREDIN REYNE (nee Ambrose): Born to Lady Delith Ambrose (nee Dayne) and Lord Aubrey Ambrose, Blonde haired and violet eyed, Mother to 5, Sister to 2, Married to Lord Eddiyn Reyne. Declared as beautiful as any Targaryen, and quite alike an exotic rose. Married to improve the prospects of her family, and positioned a great many men of her house in positions of high regard. Far more influential than she would ever let on.

“Eyes like hers haunt even the bravest of men, and her fiery tongue does wither their souls. Only the heart of a lion stood a chance against a beauty such as hers.”

-

ELLYN REYNE: Daughter of Castemere, Born to Lady Ceredin Reyne (nee Ambrose) and Lord Eddiyn Reyne. Blonde haired and lilac eyed, Sister to 2, Mother to none, Engaged to Lord Jasper Arryn. Rumoured to have lied with women, particularly a Bastard of the Reach.  Declared fairer than even her mother, and whittier too, with a love for steel instead of needles. Fiercer than any of her siblings, and unapologetically unbowed in the face of danger. Died before she could marry Lord Jasper or bear him any children.

“She sought a peaceful afterlife - Lady Ellyn - and she threw herself from the highest point of her home to gain it.”

-

AUBREYN ARRYN (nee Reyne): Daughter of Castemere, Born to Lady Ceredin Reyne and Lord Eddiyn Reyne. Blonde haired and violet eyed, Sister to Ellyn Reyne, Mother to Four, Married to Lord Jasper Arryn. She was often favoured far after her sister, though she was no less fair. She enjoyed the life of a Lady, embroidery was always far better to her than the steel her sister spent all her time wasting away at. Upon her sister’s death she was set to marry Lord Jasper Arryn and become Lady of the Vale in her sister’s place. 

“It was not his company that Lady Aubreyn cherished, but the title her husband gave her. There were only two things more important than family, she thought, power and blood.”

-

RAYENNA TARGARYEN (nee Reyne): Daughter of Castemere, Sister of Aubreyn Arryn and Ellyn Reyne, Born to Lady Ceredin Reyne and Lord Eddiyn Reyne. Blonde Haired and Lilac Eyed, Mother to 3. Married to King Aegon Targaryen. First Queen to be birthed from House Reyne - youngest daughter, yet chose as Queen above all others for her grace and poise.

“A great many songs have been sung for Queen Rayenna - but none could ever do her justice.”

-

ALYSANNE REYNE (nee Tyrell): Only daughter of Lord Luthor Tyrell and Lady Aeydin Tyrell (nee Oakheart) Sister in Law of Queen Rayenna Targaryen (nee Reyne) and Auberyn Arryn (nee Reyne), Mother to 2. Red-haired and green eyed, child of Highgarden. Married to Lord Rickardd Reyne - who named her his Queen of Love and Beauty at each tourney he won.

“She was a rose in every sense of the word, sharp and witty, clever and quick - all veiled in a beautiful smile and graceful air. They say she was the prettiest rose to ever come of Highgarden.”

-

NARIN MORMONT (nee Reyne): Daughter of Castemere, Born to Lady Alysanne Reyne (nee Tyrell) and Lord Rickardd Reyne. Mother to 6. Married to Lord Landon Mormont. Red haired and green eyed. Selectively mute, but ambitious and witty all the same. Embroidered many tapestries for King’s Landing and the Red Keep, as well as in various other castles scattered around Westeros. 

“Lady Narin made the elaborate drapings of the castles we see today - embroidered them until her hands were raw from it - all the many tapestries that line these halls were woven by her careful hands.”

-

EMBYL REYNE (nee Royce): Daughter of Runestone, Black hair and green eyes, beautiful but thought to be incredibly unkind. Married Lord Derric Reyne unhappily, but birthed him two sons and a daughter. Often described as appearing absentminded when not sharp and cold.

“Lady Embyl is who I often wished I could be back in Casterly Rock. Someone who was feared, who no one would dare to bother. When I was just past my eighth or ninth name day I was in the Red Keep and I thought to try it - being cold and sharp to everyone surrounding me. It led me to hit a King, and I never once wished to be like her again.”

-

ADRIANNE REDWYNE (nee Reyne): Only daughter of Lady Embyll Reyne and Lord Derric Reyne. Strawberry Blonde Hair and Green Eyed, wife of Lord Runthford Redwyne, Mother to 4. Crowned Queen of Love and Beauty by Derric’s brother - but fell in love with Derric instead and had a notably happy marriage. They were a jovial, boisterous couple and family, who prospered tremendously. 

“She was so terribly happy, Ambrose often thought, how I wish to one day have that, too.”

-

UMBER REYNE (nee Penrose): Daughter of Parchments - born to Lady Joy Penrose (nee Poole) and Lord Aelin Penrose. Blonde hair and Green Eyes, a trait she passed to all of her children, causing the original purple and blue shades to become recessive. Married to Lord Roalde Reyne. Bold and loud, adored her husband but despised proper etiquette. Died in Battle beside her husband - though later claimed to have died at home from excess injuries.

“She was killed in battle, defending her husband and her home. It is more than I can say for most of the Knights in Westeros.”

-

KYSEE MARTELL (nee Reyne): Eldest Daughter of Lady Umber Reyne (nee Penrose) and Lord Roalde Rene. Blonde haired and green eyed - with a constellation of freckles dotting every inch of her. Married the second Prince of Dorne - Prince Eyrlan Martell - and had a happy marriage with him and various consorts. Was said to lie with men and women openly and face no ridicule. She was barren, and birthed no children - but the radiance in her smile and the kindness in her heart was said to have done more than enough to make up for it.

“She was as radiant as the sun on her husband’s house crest. Free in every sense of the word, untethered and unchained. It must have been bliss to have known such a thing.”

-

JAYNE LYNDERLY (nee Reyne): Daughter of Castemere, third child of Lord Roalde and Lady Umber. Blonde hair and eyes the color of freshly picked sage. Married to Elric Lynderly who is rumored to have much preferred the company of men than women. She birthed him five sons - though it is rumoured that she didn’t prefer the company of men - just as he didn’t wish for the company of women.

“Timid and gentle, she would surely have made a better flower than a snake. Yet, she had a advantageous marriage. Perhaps in that way she was smarter than any of us.”

-

GEMMA SELMY (nee Reyne): Youngest child of Lady Umber and Lord Roalde, Blonde hair and Green eyes, Mother to 3. Married to Lord Lynell Selmy, Mother of Ser Lyonel Selmy and Grandmother of Ser Barristan the Bold. Fierce temper and a quick wit, but demure enough to pass as a Lady of High Society. Lady in waiting to a Targaryen Queen - though the exact one is up for dispute - and rumoured to be her closest confidante and friend.

“Stubborn and brash, Lady Gemma had a shocking skill at winning over the opposing party. So much so that it is said she once convinced an opponent of her husband’s to surrender while openly mocking him.”

-

TYRREI REYNE (nee Qorgyle): Daughter of Sandstone - Born in Dorne to Lord Quentyn Qorgyle and an unnamed wife. Sun-kissed skin, onyx hair, and bright green eyes. Mother to 3 sons, most of which taking her husband’s looks instead of her own. Married Ser Robb Reyne, and had a love-filled marriage until his death - at which point she closed off from the rest of the world, and later flung herself into the ocean.

“There was sunlight in her eyes and warmth in her smile until the day he died - then she became the moon and gave herself to the tides.”

-

FENRYRE REYNE (nee Hightower): Daughter of Oldtown, light brown hair and blue eyed. Born to Lord Garth Hightower and Lady Arissane Hightower - but not much else is known. She is said to have been devastatingly beautiful, but painfully quiet. Married to Lord Renrye Reyne - mother to three.

“Castemere was different from Oldtown - no a place for a quiet, shy beauty like Lady Fenryre - but she made it her home all the same.”

-

BELLEN MALLISTER (nee Reyne): Only daughter of Lady Fenryre Reyne and Lord Renrye Reyne - Blonde Hair and Green Eyes, raised in Casterly Rock. Declared Queen of Love and Beauty by Lord Jeffory Mallister, with whom she later was wed. Kind and Beloved by all the smallfolk, but said to be cruel to servants - the latter of which is heavily disputed. 

“She was the Maiden come to life, beautiful and kind as everyone ought to be. Now she lies in a sept, but her kindness still rings throughout Seagard.”

-

HELIA REYNE (nee Harlaw): Daughter of Ten Towers, raised on the Iron Islands, fourth daughter of Lord Harlaw and his sixth Wife. Ashen hair and blue eyes. Married to Lord Rickard Reyne, Mother to Lord Robert Reyne, Grandmother to Lord Roger Reyne. Commander of the second largest sea-fleet in the Seven Kingdoms. Well-traveled and fiery. Said to be as dangerous as a storm at sea.

“Iron and Seafoam ran through her veins. Lady Helia was the calm before the storm, just as she was everything that came after.”

-

ARRYE TARTH (nee Reyne): Daughter of Castemere, born to Lord Rickard Reyne and Lady Helia Reyne. Blonde haired and blue eyed. Married to Lord Derren Tarth, Mother of 1. As wild as the sea, as unpredictable as the waves, with the beauty of a tempest - dangerous and captivating. Lived a happy life, but died before the rebellion of her niece and nephews. 

“In Tarth she got to see the waters and beaches her mother often spoke of, the bluest of waters and the finest of sands. It was her own form of heaven.”

-

MORGANA REYNE (nee Tarly): Daughter of the Reach, Married to Lord Robert Reyne, Mother to 3 Brown haired and blue eyed. Rumoured to have been skilled in sword fighting and archery, and to have participated as a Mystery Knight in a tourney or two. None of the rumours were confirmed before her death.

“She was every bit a Lady as she was a Knight, the Tarly girl, and she knew just the words to convince you she was neither.”

-

ELLYN TARBECK [Lannister Formerly] (nee Reyne): Daughter of Castemere. Sister to Lord Roger Reyne, Aunt to Lady Ambrose Reyne. Blonde Hair and Green Eyes. Ambitious, sole goal from childhood to be Lady of Casterly Rock. Engaged to Lord Tywald Lannister before his and her father’s demise. Married and Widowed to Lord Tion Lannister. Married to Lord Walderan Tarbeck. A sharp, imposing woman, who gave so many riches to her brothers while a Lannister that a Lord once said that, "Lady Ellyn must be a sorceress, for she has made it rain inside the Rock all year."

“Our rise and our fall weighed heavy in her hands from the day she was set to marry Lord Tywald. It was her greed that tipped the scales.”

-

LYSANNA REYNE (nee Wylde): Daughter of the Rain House, Married to Lord Roger Reyne, Mother to 5. Had an arranged marriage, but grew to love her husband. Was said to be as kind as she was beautiful, and a few knights even tried to crown her their Queen of Love and Beauty before, and even after she was wed to Lord Roger. She often recounted missing her home to her Ladies, one of whom told this to a surviving guard. Didn’t believe in the rebellion, but supported her husband anyway - while secretly refusing her family’s request to get involved.

“She had always hated the water, your mother. Perhaps she’d always known it would be the root of her demise.”

-

DELLYN REYNE: Eldest daughter of Lord Roger Reyne and Lady Lysanna Reyne. Was seventeen and set to be married to an unnamed Lord upon the time of her death. Claimed to have been full of light and life, and seeming far younger than all her years. Blonde haired and green eyed. Loving and doting. Servants recalled her being doting on all her younger siblings, and some even claim she urged them to leave feeling, “something terrible will happen if you do not.”

“No songs will be sung of the tragedy she faced. Her promised wed another, and she lays forgotten in a crypt. Ballads are made of worse things - surely it is the least she deserves.”

-

WYLLA REYNE: Daughter of Castemere, Second Daughter of Lord Roger and his wife, Lady Lysanna. Blonde haired with eyes described as being, “akin to sapphires.” Rumoured to have been quiet and studious, much preferring books to the company of others, especially not men. She is said to have preferred women over men, once asking her mother, “But why must I marry a Lord? Wouldn’t a Lady be enough?” Only two of her servants survived the rebellion.

“In her books she came alive, reading and studying all she could. I often wonder if it was because she knew she would never have time to learn all that she wanted to.”

-

QWENTIN REYNE: Daughter of Castemere, Third Daughter of Lord and Lady Reyne. Vivacious and graceful, despite having been a mere 13 years of age upon her demise. Crowned a Queen of Love and Beauty on her twelfth name day at the tourney held in her honor. Blonde haired and lilac eyed. Described as being a kind spirit, who spent most of her days wandering the gardens or peering off the cliffs. 

“She was graced with violent purple eyes that lit up a room, and now they’re rotting in a crypt somewhere - never to be looked upon again.”

-

AMBROSE REYNE: Last daughter of Castemere and only surviving child of Lord Roger Reyne and Lady Lysanna Reyne. Raised from the age of six by Lannisters, quiet and quick, with a hidden cunning and witty nature. Vivacious and sly, but outwardly demure and complacent. Blonde haired and Green eyed. Future Queen in the North, Lady of Casterly Rock, and Queen in the North all over again.

“She was the fire and the fury and the spirit of every Lion before her - as bold as she ought to be. Every Man, Woman, or King who met her would learn not to cross her - it was just a matter of time.”

--- 0 --- 0 --- 0 ---

“Each night before I fall asleep I recite their names in my head, lest I forget who they were and who they make me. My family name has been the source of my deepest tragedies and my greatest joys - I would not wish to forget it. Not for anything in the world.”

-

(shoutout to @shiftingshiftingshifting for allowing me to include her OC Derren Tarth as a marriage partner!)

[pinknerdpanda]

The Diner

Word Count: 3,623 (decidedly NOT a drabble...it got out of control and I won’t apologize.) Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Angst, Theft, Fluff Beta’d By: @princessmisery666​ - thank you my love

A/N: This was requested (kind of?) by my amazing and wonderful Name Twin @amanda-teaches. I hope you like this babe! (And I promise I’m working on the other still) I know these are called “Merry Manda’s Christmas Drabbles” and literally NONE of them are Drabbles...but I’m lazy and haven’t changed it in the 4 years I’ve been doing these. So...Sorry? (I’m not, actually. I’m not even sorry a little bit.)

The bitter chill of winter air cut through the leather of Bucky’s jacket as he stepped out of the car. He’d briefly considered taking his bike for the evening but had thought better of it. Though now, he was grateful he’d spared himself that torture. Shivering, he wondered if getting out on this frigid night was even worth it at all. 

“Fuckin’ hate the cold,” he muttered, the words crystallizing in the air as he shoved the keys into his pocket and began making his way to the door. 

After Steve went back in time to return the stones - and himself - to their proper place, Bucky felt lost. He’d known Steve’s intentions - even supported them. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like hell.

He and Sam had gotten along better than Bucky would have guessed at the jump. They’d actually grown code enough, Bucky might even go as far as to call Sam a friend. Sure, they still had their moments of friction, but overall they worked well together. Sam was a damn hard worker and made him laugh, despite the obvious pain Bucky saw in his eyes. He missed Steve too. Whether they admitted it or not to themselves - certainly not out loud - they needed each other. 

But sometimes Bucky just needed some time to himself. 

That was how he’d wound up here the first time six months ago. It had been Steve’s birthday and even though Sam had invited him along to go see his old friend, he’d declined. He hadn’t been ready for the reminder of what kind of life he’d missed out on. So instead, he’d chosen to go for a drive with no real destination in mind. Not long into the trip however, he’d gotten hungry and stopped at the first place he saw. 

The diner was small; cramped and slightly dingy, with scuffed linoleum floors and cracked booth seats. The menus felt sticky and none of the dishes matched, but the coffee was perfect. Hot, dark and slightly burnt; just how he liked it.

If anyone had recognized him that first day, they didn’t say anything. He was used to his fair share of open stares and the odd murmuring of worried voices wherever he went. But not here. Here, he was just Bucky - cup of coffee, no cream.

Bucky fell in love with the place immediately and it soon became his little home away from home. A place of refuge he could escape to when things got too heavy or his thoughts got too loud. Or, like tonight, when he just really, really wanted some of that amazingly shitty diner coffee.

The cold air that enveloped Bucky sloughed off as the diner door shut behind him, quickly replaced by the warm scent of coffee and whatever Mel was frying in the kitchen. He’d been there less than a second and he could already feel himself begin to relax. 

A quick scan of the space showed no signs of anything out of the ordinary. Well - not really. A few weeks back, someone had decorated the counter top with a small, fiber-optic Christmas tree and a Santa figure that looked nearly as old as the place itself. Meager as it may be, it made the place feel festive. 

The old jukebox in the corner - usually churning out songs by Chuck Berry, Elvis and The Temptations - hummed holiday tunes and voices that made him remember Christmases long since past. Before the war, before HYDRA, before the snap...when he was just a charming blue eyed kid from Brooklyn, looking out for his sisters and his annoyingly stubborn best friend. Bing Crosby's soothing timbre always brought back fond memories of his ma's cooking and the squeals of delight from the girls when they woke Christmas morning.

His moment of reverie was broken, however, by the sound of another familiar voice. 

“Hey Bucky. Merry Christmas!” Y/n smiled and Bucky briefly thought of the prospect of making new Christmas memories to settle alongside those from so long ago.

Y/n followed him with a steaming pot of coffee as he took his seat at his usual booth. She filled the cup to the very brim before leaning against the back of the seat opposite of him.

“Merry Christmas, y/n.” Bucky wrapped both hands around the chipped porcelain mug. “I figured you’d have the night off, bein’ the holidays and all.”

In all the months he’d been coming here, he’d only ever seen her face bright and full of joy. She was sweet and kind and always made a point to have a chat with him about anything and nothing when she had a moment to spare. If he was being honest, part of the pull he felt toward this place was because there was a good chance he’d get to bask in her glow, if only for an hour or two.

But now, the smile on her face drew tight and the light in her eyes dimmed. In an instant, Bucky was filled with a pang of regret. Before he could find the words to apologize, her features melted back into place. He wondered if the cheeriness she tended to exude was simply a mask that he’d failed to recognize. 

“Girl’s gotta make a buck somehow, right? Just the coffee tonight?”

Bucky paused, the cup halfway to his lips as he thought about it. 

“Actually, I think I’m craving pie.”

Y/n nodded approvingly. “Well lucky for you, we have lots to choose from. Pick your poison.” 

Savoring the delicious burn of the first sip of liquid gold, Bucky smacked his lips and tipped his head to one side. “How about you surprise me? Bring two slices of your favorite?”

“Coming right up!”

Bucky watched as y/n made her way behind the counter, setting the pot back on the warmer and moving to the fridge where they kept their pies. Propping a fist on one hip, y/n pursed her lips as she surveyed the options before her.

Bing's voice filled the comfortable silence as he crooned "White Christmas".

“Heya, Buck!” Mel’s voice drew his attention and he turned to find the greying head of the diner’s owner peeking out of the kitchen window. "Merry Christmas!"

“Merry Christmas yourself, Mel. Surprised you’re even open tonight.” 

“Everybody’s gotta eat, even on Christmas Eve.” Mel grinned. “Besides, who else is gonna let your ugly mug drink all their coffee for a buck and a half?”

Bucky scoffed and shook his head. “You oughta be grateful I even come in and pay for this sludge, Mel. I could just stay home and drink my own damn coffee.”

“And yet here you are,” Mel quipped back, his gaze flicking to y/n as she approached Bucky’s table with two slices of pie. Mel winked at Bucky before disappearing into the kitchen.

Bucky’s face flushed at the not so subtle implication. And yet, here I am, Bucky thought as y/n set the plate in front of him.

“Chocolate cream pie, huh?” Bucky quirked an eyebrow at her. “I woulda pegged you for a cherry kinda gal.” 

“Guess you woulda been wrong then, Sarge.” Y/n shrugged, a smug smile on her lips. “Enjoy!”

Y/n turned to head back to the counter, but Bucky caught her wrist gently. As she turned around, a spark of something between fear and confusion flashed across her face.

“Now where are you going?” Bucky let go of her wrist and motioned at the seat across from him as he continued. “Thought we were gonna have some pie?”

Confusion won over as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re gonna have some pie. I gotta get back to work.”

Bucky gestured around the nearly empty diner, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. Only one other table was occupied - a young couple, too giggly and twitterpated to notice anything other than each other. “I dunno. Looks to me like there’s not much work to be done at the moment. And besides, you really think I could eat all this by myself?”

Y/n planted her fist on her hip again and rolled her eyes. “Something tells me you definitely could.”

Gasping in mock offense, Bucky pressed his hand to his heart. “Even the notion! And on Christmas Eve, no less…”

Scoffing, y/n held up her hands in surrender. “Alright, fine. Let me go get a cup of coffee and I’ll join you. But only because it’s Christmas.” Y/n shook her head warily as she walked back behind the counter.

He didn't even try to fight the pleased smile from his lips as he tapped the side of the mug with a vibranium finger. “Maybe just bring the pot?” Bucky called before draining the last of his cup.

A dull thunk against the warped tabletop nearly startled him and he looked up to find y/n already settled across from him, the coffee pot between them.

“Already ahead of you, Bucky.”

Bucky grinned and nudged a napkin wrapped fork in her direction as y/n poured a cup of coffee for herself and refilled his. 

“So…” he began, unfurling his fork and immediately scooping up a large bite of pie and jamming it into his mouth.

Y/n’s eyebrow quirked and she paused, fork poised midair as she responded - “So?” - before copying his action, albeit with a slightly smaller bite. 

“That’s some damn fine pie.” Bucky licked his lips and hummed in delight as he took another bite. “So, what’s the story?”

Y/n set her fork down and wiped her napkin over her mouth. Bracing her elbows on the table and wrapping her hands around her coffee, she tipped her head to one side.

“What’s what story?”

Bucky at least had the manners to swallow before taking a drink and leveling a measured gaze at her.

“Earlier, your face dropped when I mentioned you working tonight. What’s that about?”

Perhaps at some point in Bucky’s long, long life he’d have danced around the question. But lately he found himself growing more and more blunt. Why not just cut right to the chase without all the benign pleasantries?

Y/n blinked and cleared her throat. “I...uh...I don’t know what you mean.” She smiled at him, though her lips seemed forcibly stretched around her teeth.

Leaning forward, Bucky shook a gunmetal grey finger at her. “Nope. Not gonna cut it. Something’s bothering you, and I wanna help. If you’ll let me.” He sat back, running a hand through his recently shortened locks. “God knows you’ve listened to enough of my bullshit to last a lifetime.”

Tentative fingers wrapped around her fork as she began swirling the tines through the whipped cream of her mostly-uneaten pie. Bucky watched as she distracted herself with the sugary concoction. 

“It’s,” she cleared her throat, gaze still trailing the swirls made with her fork. “It’s my brother. He got himself in trouble with some pretty brutal bookies. He came around last week asking for cash; I guess he’s in pretty deep. I gave him the little bit of savings I had, but I guess it wasn’t enough.” 

Bucky’s body went rigid and he felt the anger building in his veins. He was thankful her gaze was still downcast, because he imagined the look in his eyes was pretty dark. 

Y/n swallowed, setting her fork down with a soft ‘clink’ against the plate. “I came home from work a few days ago and he’d come in and stolen anything he thought he could get some money out of. I dunno; guess he pawned it or something.”

Small whirs and barely audible clicks of metal on metal filled the silence between them as Bucky’s fist clenched nearly as tight as his jaw. He knew she probably didn’t hear it, but to his heightened senses, it sounded like a blaring siren. Schooling his features and relaxing as best he could, he took an extra moment to level the tone of his voice.

“Your brother robbed you to pay off some bookies?” 

Y/n eyes shot up, meeting his and widening suddenly as realization struck her. “Shit, I didn’t...please don’t…” She sucked in a shaky breath.

Bucky placed a hand over hers, surprising himself for a second before shaking his head. “Hey, hey. It’s ok.”

Hanging her head, she sighed. “Sometimes I forget who you are. You’re just Bucky, to me. I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to put you in any kind of awkward situation being an Avenger and all…”

Her rambling died as Bucky’s hand tightened around hers reassuringly. 

“I think knowing I’m ‘just Bucky’ here is one of my favorite things about coming here,” he offered her a lopsided grin as she met his gaze through watery lashes. “I’m just worried about you. You didn’t do anything wrong, darlin’.”

Releasing his hand, she sunk back into the faded pleather booth and wrapped her cardigan around herself.

“I know. I’m fine. Really.” She picked at an invisible thread on her sleeve. “I mean I can do without a TV or a computer, but he took all the presents I bought for the kids down at the rec center. I’d been saving all year to be able to do something nice for them.”

Bucky’s face flushed with renewed anger. How in the hell did someone so kind and generous and wonderful as y/n wind up with such an asshole for a brother?

“Excuse me, miss?”

Y/n looked as caught off guard as Bucky felt when the young couple from the other table called for her. They seemed hesitant to even disrupt the obviously tense situation. 

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but we’re gonna miss our train if we don’t leave soon.” 

“Oh no, no, no. You’re no bother.” Y/n sniffed and pasted on a smile as she slid out of the booth and met them at the counter. “I’m sorry I didn’t check on you sooner.”

Their conversation faded into the background as Bucky’s head buzzed with all the ways he wanted to make y/n’s brother pay for hurting her so badly. A voice in the back of his head - one that sounded entirely too much like Steve’s star-spangled-ass for his liking - told him to calm down. It was obvious y/n loved her brother, and anything Bucky’s scrambled mind could come up with to deal with him would definitely end up hurting her more. 

So, rather than plotting revenge, Bucky pulled out his phone instead. He began clicking away furiously and got so lost in his mission, he missed the sound of y/n’s footsteps as she neared. The feeling of a warm hand against his shoulder made him jump, the device thumping to the table, narrowly missing his now-cooled cup of coffee.

“At ease, Sarge. It’s just me.” Y/n chuckled and patted his shoulder. “I didn’t think it was even possible to scare you.”

Bucky’s face twisted in smug defiance. “It’s not. I was just distracted, that’s all.” He snorted in derision. 

“Uh-huh.” Y/n’s lips pursed, clearly trying to fight a smile. Bucky wished she wouldn’t; he’d give just about anything to see her face light up again. “Well, I’ve gotta go clear their table and start getting things shut down for the night. I just wanted to thank you for listening to me and for always being so...well...you.”

The sound of Bucky’s heartbeat roared in his ears as she leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek. 

“Merry Christmas, Bucky.”

----

A loud, almost violent-sounding banging on the front door woke Bucky up with a jerk. He scowled, eyes squinted against the faint golden rays of morning sun peeking through his curtains. The clock on his nightstand seemed to mock him with bright, bold, red numbers declaring the time to be 6:48 am.

The banging started again, somehow more violently. Muttering curses under his breath - mostly aimed at Sam for deciding to spend the holiday with his family down south, thereby leaving him to deal with whoever was currently trying to break down the front door - Bucky stumbled out of bed.

Another rapid series of knocks came to an abrupt stop as Bucky swung the door open. The venomous glare melted from his face as soon as his eyes met y/n’s.

“Y/n? What are you…”

His confused mumbling was cut off as y/n pushed inside and began pacing the length of the living room. She looked upset; angry even. Which Bucky could understand, at some level, as he, too, was none too pleased with being conscious at this god-forsaken hour. He watched her silent pacing with a sleepy sort of curiosity, expecting her to either start yelling or crying at any second. When a minute or so passed and she’d done neither, he tried again.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

The pacing stopped suddenly as she whirled to face him. The fire burning in her eyes was slightly off putting and not something he was used to seeing from her.

“What’s wrong?!” She stalked towards him. “What’s wrong is that I was woken this morning by a burly man named Carl - who smelled of cheese and tequila and told me he had a load of packages waiting for me in his truck. I was seconds away from calling the cops when he told me that it had all been paid for by someone named J. Barnes.”

Bucky’s head fell forward, a funny heat creeping up his face. A particular plank of flooring had suddenly become incredibly interesting.

Y/n scoffed. “I was confused at first, because I don’t know any J. Barnes, right? Except I do, don’t I James.” 

The sound of his given name fell from her lips in a sort of disdainful disbelief that made Bucky’s head snap up. 

“Y/n listen…”

“How did you even know where I lived? Are you some type of creepy stalker customer? I never asked for...I didn’t…” y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t tell you that story so I could be seen as some charity case!”

Bucky held his hands up and took a slow step towards her. When she didn’t step back, he continued to approach her cautiously.

“First off, I know you didn’t. I didn’t mean for it to come across that way. I was only trying to help.” He now stood only a foot away, and made no move to come closer as he continued. “I’m not a stalker, either. I only had EDITH look you up and send the address straight to the delivery company. I specifically told her not to give it to me.”

“Who the hell is Edith?”

Bucky sighed, “It’s not a who, it’s a what. It’s Stark’s AI. The narcissistic bastard called it EDITH - ‘Even Dead, I’m The Hero’.” Bucky rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help the twinge of pain at the thought of Tony. One of Bucky’s biggest regrets was not being able to make peace with the man before he sacrificed himself against Thanos.

Y/n frowned, opening and closing her mouth a few times. Bucky took a chance and stepped forward, placing his hands gently on her elbows.

“I’m sorry, I swear I was just trying to help. When you said your brother stole all the gifts you’d bought for the kids at the rec center, it made me think of my sisters. There were a few Christmases when my ma couldn’t afford presents and it broke my heart for them. I was just a kid back then and I couldn’t do anything to help, but now I have the means and I just...I just want to help.” 

Without warning, Bucky found himself engulfed in y/n’s arms. Her face was warm against his bare chest and he blushed, just now realizing he hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on. He pushed aside his own discomfort and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing tighter when he felt her body begin to convulse with silent sobs.

They stayed that way for...well, Bucky wasn’t sure. It could have been a minute; it could have been an hour. But eventually, her tears subsided and she pulled back, wiping her face and not meeting his gaze.

“Thank you, Bucky” Her voice was so quiet when she spoke, Bucky wondered if he’d only been able to hear it because of his enhanced hearing. “But I can’t accept it. It’s too much, I can’t ask you…”

“You didn’t. I wanted to. For you and for those kids. Every kid deserves a present at Christmas.”

Y/n shook her head, eyes still glossy, though her lips curved in a sweet smile. 

“You’re too precious for this world, you know that Sarge?” She sucked in a deep breath. “Ok, fine, but on one condition.”

Bucky frowned. “Condition?”

“Yes. You have to help me deliver them.” Y/n crossed her arms again, a challenging glint in her gaze. “But you should probably put a shirt on first.”

Bucky cringed. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” Y/n’s eyes widened as though she hadn’t meant to speak the words out loud. 

Bucky fought the urge to make a smug remark and chose instead to ignore it and save her from any further embarrassment. Though he did catalogue that to contemplate later.

“Alright. Let me get changed and then we can get going.”

Bucky smiled and started toward his room, but stopped to face y/n again.

“Oh and y/n?”

Y/n looked at him and Bucky pretended not to notice the way her eyes trailed over his bare torso before she met his eyes.

“Hm?”

“Merry Christmas.”

Like what you see? Want more? My SPN Masterlist is here, and MCU is here. Thanks for reading! :)

A/N 2: I am using my new and improved taglist. If you want to be added, Send me an ask with the list you’d like to be on. Weirdos are for everything, Heroes is MCU and Hunters is for SPN.

Weirdos: 

@hannahindie​ @amanda-teaches​ @ellen-reincarnated1967​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @masksandtruths​ @princessmisery666​  @jamielea81​ @foxyjwls007​ @becs-bunker​ @super100012​ @shy-violet-soul​ @emoryhemsworth​ @impandagrl​ @donnaintx​

Heroes:

@arrowsandmixtapes​ @bethbabybaby​

[yeojaa]

in the night, ii.

read part one!  dedicated to my beloved wofe @periminkle​ because she loves assassin!kook and so do i.  i honestly dunno how many parts to this non-couple couple i’ll do but ... i cannot resist them.  oops.

pairing.  jjk x reader.  rating.  ... general?  tags.  soft romance in the form of:  pining, cuddling, playing chess like losers, using a hotel room for the lamest reasons.  maybe a very lil bit of angst if you squint at the right times.  it’s just them being...  them?  ig.  wc.  1.8k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​ 💛

“You know, when you asked me to meet  you here, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

He can’t help but laugh, the sound teetering off his tongue into the tepid lake of espresso sitting in his cup.  You’re glaring down at the board, hand poised at your side.  You’re so focused - more so than when you’re stitching him up.  

He wonders, idly, whether that should worry him.  It won’t.

“You’re not having fun?”  He hums, the slyest smile passing over the rim of ceramic, a certain twinkle in his stare.  It’s possible he’s overtired - he hasn’t slept in what feels like ages - but there’s something awfully amusing about the sight of you, brow knit and mouth pursed into a grimace he seldom sees.  “Got something else in mind, Doc?”

You don’t humour him with a response, advancing your king to C7.  

“You sure about that one?”

“Yes.”  It snaps past your lips like cinnamon bubble gum.

Seeing you so riled up - not quite irritated but overly competitive - makes Jungkook snort, setting his cup down with a soft, drawn out sigh.

“Come here.”  It isn’t readily clear where he means but he leaves it up to you, watching you keenly. 

You’re having none of it. “Make your move.”

“Come here,”  he repeats, just that bit harder.  The edge doesn’t reach anywhere but his words;  his eyes are still a little tired, half-lidded and dreamy.  They pair nicely with the full of his cheek, how it ticks rounder and reveals a singular dimple.  Your weakness - or so he’d like to think. 

It’s with a surprising amount of dramatics that you remove yourself from the opposite seat, folding yourself into his lap with only a handful of movements.  He welcomes your weight, curling an exhausted arm around the shape of your waist. 

With your back to the arm rest, you settle with your head against his shoulder, nose cold against the column of his throat.  He can even feel the steel of your glasses, gold-rimmed and delicate. 

“Bored?”  The tone of his voice is lilting, teasing, dressed up with laughter.  It disappears into your crown of velvet, loosely braided and knotted behind your ear in your signature no-fuss fashion. 

“No.”  But it isn’t very believable because you certainly sound unenthused. 

He tries again, with fingers that flex into the soft, bare flesh of your thigh;  his other hand guides your chin, drawing your attention fully from the abandoned chess set.  “Want to order room service?”

It’s the least he can do, he figures.  Something to ease whatever mocking resentment seeps out of your skin - much like his had only hours earlier. 

Note to himself:  pick up some new clothes.  

“I want every dessert on the menu,”  you finally relent, with a terribly serious set of your jaw and intensity in your eyes.  

He snorts, again, squeezing the yielding softness of your hip in his broad palms. “I’ll call down and order.  You go take a shower or something.”  It’s not as dismissive as he means;  the blouse you’d worn over is stained red, the colour bleeding garishly over cream silk.  It even marks your skin now, caught beneath your nails and over your wrists. 

“What - it’s not a good look on me?”  

Your feigned affront is addictive, coaxing in a way he’s utterly defenceless against.  Still, Jungkook rolls his eyes - an exaggerated reveal of bright white sclera - and levels you with a look that might serve him better than the gun that rests on the coffee table.  “Don’t ask stupid questions, Doc.”

“But you do stupid things all the time.”  You’re not wrong and if there’s anyone worthy of calling him out in this same way, it’s you.  Doesn’t mean he takes it any more kindly, glowering at you so heavily he thinks you might be enjoying it. 

“Name one time,”  he retorts, fully on the defensive.  Even though he knows you’re right.  Even though he could list off just five things since last night. 

Getting ambushed in his own home

Cracking some not-so-poor guy’s skull on the corner of his Nakashima dining table 

Asking for you to make a home (or rather, hotel) call 

Asking for you at all

Asking you to stay 

He hopes you won’t catch onto the last three. 

“That time I told you to not overextend yourself after you cracked three ribs and you came back the next day complaining because you’d piledrived a guy through some scaffolding but, and I quote, ‘it wasn’t a big deal’?”  Okay, you have him there.  “Or the time I told you to take the pills in the left drawer and you took the ones from the right and ended up passed out on my floor for twelve hours?”  Another solid and mildly embarrassing example.  “Or—”

“Okay, okay.”  A single hand held aloft in the universal sign of stop;  the other remains comfortable around your waist, digits tracing figure eights over the porcelain skin beneath your top.  “I get it.”

You’re undeterred, pushing forward with abandon.  “Or inviting me to a hotel to not only stitch you back together but also play silly children’s games?”

“Hey - chess is fun!”  And so were Gin Rummy and Speed, the other two activities he’d foisted upon you post-sewing session. 

“You’re an idiot,”  you state, with a surprising amount of affection.  He doesn’t mind when it comes like this, dipped in honey and rolled in fairy floss. It satisfies his sugar craving, filling the spaces between his molars with cavities. 

“You still came,”  he challenges.  

“Just adding it to the dozens of favours you already owe me.”

He grins, roguish and far too handsome for his own good.  Even tired, with lurking shadows beneath his eyes, he’s unbelievably bright - like it’s radiating out of him.  It’s quite funny when he’s speckled in gore, blood tainting tanned skin and reminding you that he’s not all sunshine and rainbows. 

“How will I ever pay you back?”

You’re close - far too close, even sat in his lap.  Jungkook can see every freckle on your face, every lash that frames the prettiest stare he’s ever seen.  He has to remind himself he’s waiting for an answer;  it’s hard when all he wants to do is kiss you. 

He thinks you must want it too, by how the silence stretches on, catching the pair of you like a Chinese finger trap. 

“Doc?”  Barely a word, made in a whisper. 

Can you feel how his heart beats, trips and fails to right itself when you’re so close he can smell the coffee on your breath?  Is it your medical training that gives him away?  Or maybe just the fact that you’re attuned to everything about him because he’s, well, him?

Your big stupid idiot, for all intents and purposes. 

He wants to ask.  He wants to kiss you. He wants a hundred mundane things (like playing cards and eating sweet treats) only with you. 

You tear it all away with a pat to his head and a wicked smile.  “With all the dessert in the world.”

He scowls then, the expression wolfish and touched with agitation.  It presents in the narrowing of his stare, his sharply set jaw.  “Sounds like pretty lame payback to me.”  Can you hear the edge of petulance, how it colours syllables the faintest shade of goblin green?

“Got something else in mind, Jeon?”

Having his words thrown back at him only makes him laugh.  It reverberates out of his bare chest, filling the quiet of the luxury suite;  it bounces around just as you do, leaping to your feet with a grace he can’t mimic.  He’s mesmerised, as he always is, gaze trained on you - your loosened bun, the curves of your back, how you look in the jeans that look nearly painted on they fit you so well. 

“Grab a bath, Doc,”  he returns - less of a suggestion and more of a demand. 

“Better have those desserts once I’m out.”  A threat rather than a joke, though you’re far too unassuming with your old lady glasses and wide, expressive stare.  For your sake, Jungkook crosses a heart across his chest and nods solemnly, earning him a devastating grin that works far better than your intimidation. 

“Have I ever let you down?”

You’re already gone, a trail of your clothes left like breadcrumbs.  He still hears you.  “I mean - you did bring a knife fight to my door.”  

“We don’t talk about that!”  He calls back before the sound of running water takes over, distorting your laughter.  Neroli and cedar wood comes - your signature scent.  He can’t help the way he inhales deeply, satisfied, as he plucks the room phone from its holder.  It’s an addiction, a second nature action that he can’t help, whether you’re curled in his arms or tending to his broken, bleeding body. 

It’s dangerous, he knows.  

His old mentor would tell him don’t get involved, Jeon.  That living a life like this came with sacrifices.  Things he’d never really cared for - at first.  But now?  

He daydreamt about them more often than he should, in all the quiet moments in between.  They painted the prettiest pictures in his mind, wishful thinking in the form of everyday occurrences:  coffee in the morning, you in his (unstained) clothes, drives in the countryside, a bed shared at night. 

All because of you and your healing hands.  He’d never thought you’d be so good at your job, stitching him up inside and out.

It’d be better if he left, packed his ruined clothing and stopped appearing on your doorstep.  It’d keep you safe - and him, too.  Relationships meant weakness and in his line of work, weakness was something to be exploited, like an open wound with a thumb pressed into it.

Instead, he waits until the cart of desserts appears - lemon tarts and basque cheesecake and a dozen other things that scream diabetes! - and wheels it right into the bathroom, closer to you, because he always wants to be closer to you.  

“These don’t look like apples, Doc,”  he hums, settling himself on the back edge of the tub, careful not to dislodge the towel that’s folded beneath your neck.  The wet of your hair seeps into the material of his pants, sticking cloth to sinew and brawn. 

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away but a tray of desserts will keep me here forever.”

“You planning on living here?”  Quipped with an offering - a cocoa masterpiece of four layers, held gingerly between his thumb and forefinger.  

“Might as well milk it,”  you tease, accepting the bite with love in your eyes and a tongue that sweeps, just barely, over his suddenly electrified skin.  He knows what you’re doing just as well as you do;  it’s next to impossible not to lean into the desire, slide the digit home and press down into muscle until you’re drooling around it.

“Might as well,”  he echoes, those same fluttering pink hearts reflected in his stare.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ 

[blouisparadise]

We recently received a request for enemies and lovers recs. We already have an enemies to lovers fic rec list here, but after looking at that list, we realized we had much more to add to it and therefore decided to make a part two.

Happy reading!

1) I Couldn’t Get Away From You | Mature | 5185 words

Suddenly in the heat of the moment, Harry’s eyes turned darker as he pushed Louis’ back more and more towards the wall. “Fine.” He plants his lips on Louis’ and begins to roughly kiss him, soon enough turning it into a make-out session.

“Fuck you, Styles,” Louis moans and grips onto Harry’s shoulders, hands trailing up to the taller’s hair and gripping that as well.

“We’ll see about that.”

2) There's More Than One Place To Call Home | Explicit | 8416 words

Harry never asked for much from his neighbors - he didn't care about barking animals during the day or loud talking during the night.

The only thing he needed was silence when he was writing. And that was the only thing his new neighbor wouldn't give him.

Deciding to confront the loud guy who lived next door, Harry found himself ringing his doorbell one night. And that decision just may be the best thing that's ever happened to Harry.

3) Make A Run, Cause Some Rebellion | Explicit | 8824 words

As a general rule, kitten hybrids are small and disinterested in what other people want them to do, slightly evil and at least a little manipulative. Louis prides himself on being all of those things to varying degrees, but especially on being uninterested in what other people tell him to do. He’s still human goddammit, despite his pointy ears and penchant for curling up in the sun and taking naps.

He’s going about his daily business, knocking things over where he sees fit and leaving a trail of mess in his wake. As exasperated as it makes Liam he’s used to it by now, having shared a flat with Louis for almost three years now, and if Louis whines enough he’ll even clean up after him. It’s a great life, really.

With the exception of Liam’s stupid, broad shouldered, entirely too big mate, the one who always comes over to watch sports with him. Louis hates that guy. His hair is always greasy and he brings weird hipster beer with him when he comes that tastes like shit. And he won’t even let Louis have any of it, either. The only reason Louis even knows what it tastes like is because one time he stole a bottle from the fridge and fled to his room before Harry could catch him.

4) Something To Prove | Explicit | 9425 words

Louis is the first and only omega to work at Red Valley Medical Center. Despite being more than qualified, he still faces prejudice for his career choice everyday. From patients refusing his treatment to condescending alpha doctors intervening with his work, practicing medicine in Boston is more challenging than Louis had ever thought it would be.

5) Where Do We Go Now | Explicit | 10617 words

Louis goes off to college ready to start a fresh life away from the oppressive alphas of his pack.  The odds aren't in his favour when his new dorm mate turns out to be an alpha.  Louis hates alphas.

6) Enjoy The Ride | Not Rated | 11103 words

The one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.

7) I Didn’t Fall For You (You Fucking Tripped Me) | Explicit | 20681 words

These days Louis tends to steer clear of dating alphas. He’s dated too many knotheads in his time, and he’s ready to just focus on school and his friends and his pet monitor lizard, of course.

Too bad the alpha next door won’t take a hint and stop using the worst pick up lines of all time on him. He’s really got to stop laughing with him--and talking to him and walking to class with him and letting him bring him coffee and tea and gifts for his lizard and watching Netflix together and...

8) Written In The Stars (That’s You And Me) | Explicit | 22632 words

Louis pushes himself up on one elbow and stretches enough to just barely trace his fingertips over Harry’s jawline. Harry’s eyes drop to track his movements as he does it again. “D’you feel that?” he whispers.

To him, it feels like all of the universe’s magic lives just beneath his skin when he touches Harry with intent. It feels like something special. Louis watches Harry’s lips part and wants to touch that too. He almost does, but then Harry shakes his head. “Feel what?”

6) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23516 words

Note: This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

10) When It’s Late At Night | Mature | 25597 words

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

11) Supposed To Be | Explicit | 26100 words

The Geek Charming AU where Harry's a film geek, Louis' a popular jock, and they both need each other to get what they want.

12) Magical Soup | Explicit | 28850 words

Slytherin prefect Louis Tomlinson's seventh year at Hogwarts takes an immediate turn for the worse when he's made to be potions partners with Harry Styles, Hufflepuff's resident heartthrob and class clown.  Louis has always considered Styles to be a terrible show-off who coasts by on his charm and good looks, but the more they work together, the more he questions that idea.  As term goes on, will Louis be able to admit to himself that he might actually like Harry Styles after all... and maybe, just maybe, as more than a friend?

13) Building Me Up (But Buttercup, You Lied) | Explicit | 31007 words

Harry’s mouth felt dry just saying those words. What he had with Louis was so much more than a simple ‘fuck buddies’ situation. It was slow kisses in the morning between soft sheets and shy smiles, it was holding hands in the afternoon while walking and eating ice cream. It was breakfast for dinner, laughing and licking honey from each other’s lips as they shared goals and even some secrets, it was happiness, it was glow.

To Harry, what he had with Louis meant everything. Until Louis decided it meant nothing.

14) You’ve Set On Me | Explicit | 31100 words

Louis' in an obscure band. Harry's an international popstar. Their paths aren't meant to cross, not like this, but when Louis' band signs on as Harry's opening act, both Harry and Louis are forced to confront the open wounds of their shared past.

15) Nicotine | Explicit | 32245 words | Sequel

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

16) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat | Explicit | 34572 words

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

17) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

18) Make This Feel Like Home | Explicit | 42032 words

The house on West 28th Street in London is twice the size of Louis', more expensive than the price of all of his house and car payments combined, and is falling apart at the seams.

19) Strangers in Love | Explicit | 42207 words

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

10) Why Can’t It Be Like That | Explicit | 63567 words

A fashion AU with a royal twist, where Louis doesn't need a stylist, Harry's thrilled to have a real life Barbie doll, and they're both very wrong about each other.

21) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

22) For Reasons Wretched and Divine | Explicit | 94655 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Ten years ago, Harry Styles was just a nerdy kid with one friend and a debilitating crush on the captain of his school’s football team. He thought the stars were smiling down on him the day he and Louis Tomlinson were paired for their end-of-term Literature project. But because Harry’s life is decidedly not a fairytale, the budding friendship quickly leads to the least happy ending of all time.

Now, Harry Styles is a household name. Barely twenty-seven with two Grammy nominations to his name, the singer-songwriter is poised to take the music industry by storm with his highly anticipated third album. So, what happens when the best producer in the business is also the only person Harry’s vowed never to speak to again?

23) You Drive Me Crazy (But It Feels Alright) | Explicit | 102306 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

“Harry is not short for Harold,” he corrects, his voice as thick as molasses. He lowers his eyes to Louis’ sequined lapels, rubbing one between two fingers. “Is this small or extra small? It looks lovely.”

Louis breaks away from his grip with a petulant huff and pushes him back with two fingers.

“You’re mocking me. Again.”

Harry smiles and it's a real honest swoop of his lips this time. Louis’ stomach swoops with them.

24) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Mature | 126056 words

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[5-stardustbunny]

Taking a break from Housamo to throw out a LiveAHero fic!

This fic is an alternate take on the ending of Chapter One so spoilers ahead. And Violence, so fair warning for that.

Basically I asked myself hwo things might have played out if MC had memories of more than just the encounter in the prolgue

This entire workshop you’d been feeling on edge.

At first you’d thought it had been because you were anxious for Akashi’s baseball game and your own performance working as an operator in an “official” capacity. Then when day two rolled around, you’d almost convinced yourself the feeling stemmed from your concern over Akashi’s strange behavior. Even without your memories, he was an important person in your life. It made sense that you would be rattled by his sudden inability to transform into a hero.

But even once the day was won, by Akashi’s hand no less, the feeling refused to disperse.

An unpleasant sense of déjà vu tingles at the back of your neck. Something about this was wrong. Very wrong. Worried, you about-face and head towards the kids. You were probably just being paranoid…

Right?

“—Stop playing things up for the fans and help me round up the kids!”

Huckles words are like a lightning bolt to your brain. Your body is moving before you register what’s happening.

You remember now.

That Kaibutsu isn’t dead yet. Normally you would even be able to budge a towering figure like Ryekie but you have the element of surprise, not to mention the full moment of your sprint behind you. You can see his confused eyes on the Kaibutsu, not quite yet comprehending what it is he’s seeing, but instinctually moving to shield the nearby kids.

You collide with his side, throwing the hero of balance and sending him tumbling to the ground. Your momentum carries you a step into the space he just occupied. Unfortunate for you, given that it’s in this moment that the Kaibutsu’s thorn tears through said space.

“Ghhhk!”

A pained gasp escapes from behind your gritted teeth as the thorn pierces your body, punching a hole clear through your abdomen. From the corner of your eye, you see Ryekie staring at you in shock, frozen in the process of standing up. Your eyes meet and you see horror begin to creep into his expression. You hear Akashi screaming your name in terror and the sound of a blade slicing through the air. Toshuu’s sword strike kills the monster for good and it fades away.

Your knees have long since given out, so when the thorn disappears to nothingness, you find yourself crumpling into the grass. Your vision is swimming, but you can faintly make out several faces hovering above you. Akashi is crying as he holds your hand desperately, and through the immense pain you feel a flare of guilt for worrying him like this. Huckle and Ryekie are both there as well, you think their putting pressure on your wound but it’s hard to distinguish any one sensation in your agony. Both their mouths are moving, and while Ryekie is turned towards someone or something over shoulder, you think Huckle’s is speaking to you. He sounds so far away though; you can’t make out his words over the fog filling your brain. You want to ask if everybody else is okay, are the kids safe? But your vision is darkening, and you can do little more than succumb to blissful mercy of unconsciousness.

--

Huckle glared tiredly at the clock on the wall of the waiting room. Its luminescent numbers felt mocking as time continued to tick on with no word on your condition in the last several hours. After being brought to the hospital via ambulance, you’d been immediately rushed into emergency surgery, leaving the members of Parallel Fight little else to do but sit themselves down in the waiting room and wait.

Toshuu, Shouen, Kyoichi had stayed behind to take care of the children and the civilians that had gotten caught up in the incident in the park, insisting the others call as soon as they had news on your condition. After the first hour of waiting, Mokdai offered to go back to the office and get started on all the paperwork the days incident had generated so that everyone would have one less thing to worry about. Huckle argued that he didn’t need to do their share of the work too, but the camera man just gave a pained smile and said that he’d rather do something productive right now, and that this was the best way to support you and Akashi at the moment. There was no arguing against that, so Huckle sent him off with a promise to call when they had news and instructions to make sure to eat something when he could.

When the group had first arrived, Akashi had stayed busy. He knew you the best of any of them so he’d been the go to for any information the doctors couldn’t find in your records, not to mention him trying to get a hold of your family. After the first hour or so though, there was nothing left for him to do, and the redhead slumped into the chair next to Huckle, staring down at his hands with a lost expression.

Ryekie was pacing a hole into the floor not far away. The tiger kept rubbing his arms, absent mindedly trying to warm up, the jacket he’d been wearing earlier ruined when he used it to try and stem your bleeding.

Huckle shook his head sharply to dislodge the image of you bleeding out on the grass from his mind, to little success. He could still feel the blood oozing between his fingers when he’d watched you slip out of consciousness.

Huckle’s brooding is cut short when a doctor walks over and asks if they’re the ones that brought you in.

“Yes!” Akashi nearly leaps out of his seat, tone bordering on pure desperation “Please-I-How are they?!”

It’s painful to see such a kind young man in such obvious pain, but there’s nothing to be done. It had been clear from day one that you and Akashi were quite close, of course this would be hitting him hardest of all. Ryekie walked up behind the other young man and put his hand in his shoulder in silent support. Huckle stood as well, giving the doctor his full attention, trying to prepare himself for the worst.

“I wont sugar coat it,” the Doctor began, not unkindly “the damage to their organs was quite severe. However, your actions on site kept them stable enough to get them to us and into surgery. The operation was a success. It may take some time and it won’t be easy, but we anticipate they will make a full recovery.”

Akashi’s shoulders sagged like a great weight had been lifted from them, and he sank into a crouching position, covering his face with his hands. Ryekie made a noise of concern and knelt next to the red head, hands poised to steady him if need be.

“Sorry” Akashi rasped, waving his senpai off “I’m fine, I just need a minute.”

“That operator of yours is a fighter” the Doctor assured them “Their room is still being prepared, but once they’re settled, I’ll have a nurse bring you to them. We don’t expect them to wake up until tomorrow at the earliest, but you’re free to sit with them if you like.”

“Thank you.” Huckle said sincerely, shaking the doctor’s hand firmly. The man nodded before disappearing down the hall to continue his work. Huckle dropped back into his chair, scrubbing a hand down his face. You were going to be alright….It felt like he could finally breathe properly again. From the corner of his eye, he watched Ryekie help a still trembling Akashi back into his chair. Huckle offered his newest hero a few pats on the shoulder as the trio settled in for another round of waiting.

--

You looked so small, lying on the hospital bed.

You had always looked small to Ryekie, which to be fair, most people did. He could vividly remember your first meeting, sweeping you up into his arms to rescue you from danger. You’d felt quite light then, and he could still recall how you didn’t even come up to his shoulder when you’d hugged him afterwards. It had sparked a warm feeling at the time, he’d been tempted to pick you up and spin you around.

Now though, he could only feel distressed by your smallness, how frail you appeared laid out on your hospital bed.

Akashi was leaning against the bed from his chair, fast asleep. When Parallel Fight had first been show into your room, the red head had made a bee line to your side, pulling up a chair and taking your hand. He’d not moved since, and even in sleep he still clung to your hand as he had for the last few hours.

It was long past visiting hours and Ryekie absentmindedly wondered what kind of strings the boss had pulled to get them all permission to stay seemingly indefinitely. Speaking of Huckle, the other man too was asleep in a chair pulled up opposite Akashi. As your boss, Huckle had insisted he couldn’t leave until you woke up at least the first time.

Of the three of them, Ryekie probably had the least reason to be here still at 2 am, but he couldn’t leave. After all it was his fault you had been hurt in the first place. The horrible scene kept playing in front of the hero’s eyes every time he closed his eyes. Some how you’d noticed the Kaibutsu was still alive before anyone else. And with that information, you’d chosen to save him even at the cost of your own safety. He could almost feel the phantom sensation of you ramming into your side.

As a hero Ryekie was no stranger to the idea of self sacrifice. It was his duty protect everyone, even if it cost him his life to do so. He never thought twice about the path he walked. If it meant keeping everyone safe, Ryekie would gladly place his life on the line. And yet…

As he stared down at you, he wondered how you would have felt if your situations were reversed. Would you have cried? Cursed him for allowing himself to get hurt saving someone else? Would you feel as powerless as he did now?

He didn’t know.

So Ryekie swore he would not leave your side until he could apologize for failing to protect you and ask you those questions for himself, it was quite literally the least he could do.

With that in mind, he reached out and took your small hand in his.

--

Akashi didn’t think it was possible to have the worst day of his life two days in a row, but he supposed this was just the universe’s way of telling him to go fuck himself.

And here he’d though having his dream of going pro be shattered had been bad. Akashi had watched as his best friend got eviscerated right in front of him, and he hadn’t been able to do anything. Logically he knew there wasn’t anything he could have done, he was too far away, he hadn’t even been in hero form at the time. But still a sinking sense of failure sits heavy in his chest, that he’d allow someone so precious to him to end up so grievously injured.

That, in addition to the fact that he hadn’t been able to get a hold of any of your family members insured he stayed rooted in the chair next to your bed. Huckle and Ryekie had tried to get him to leave for a few minutes, at least to eat something or wash his face, but he couldn’t do it. The idea of leaving your side for even a second was unbearable. It must have gotten across to his seniors because after the first few tries, they dropped the issue.

The pair had gone down to the cafeteria to grab some food and call everyone else with an update, so at the moment it was just you and Akashi in the room. The redhead rubbed circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, while his other hand reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair out of your face, not thinking much of the action. But when your expression twitched slightly, he froze, breath catching in his throat.

Akashi watched with bated breath as your expression scrunched further, eyes finally cracking open and taking in your surroundings. He thought his heart stopped when they landed on him.

“‘kashi?” You slurred slightly, head titling slightly towards him. Your hand gave a weak squeeze and the redhead just about sobbed “’s wrong?”

Even addled by the drugs pumping through you, you still him a look of such concern that Akashi broke down. Clutching your hand in both of his, he brought it up too his forehead, crying uncontrollably.

“N-never again!” He gasped out, cling to your hand desperately “You c-can’t do s-something like that e-ever again!” Your brow only furrowed, but still you tried to sooth him “I-I’m not sure what I did but ‘m sorry.” You squeezed his hand as hard as you could in your weakened state “s’okay I’m here, I’m here.”

At that moment, Akashi wanted nothing more that to wrap his arms around you and never let go, but he settled for holding your hand as he attempted to calm down enough to tell you how happy was to see you awake.