#bring on all the save a horse comments I’m ready

[thememerman]

just a little Cowboy Hunter to get you through this fine Bad Batch Eve 🗣️

and a little something extra bc I was in a silly goofy mood 🤪

[iamjacksragingboner]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy Pt. 2

Chapter 1

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: None

A/N: Chapter two is finally here! Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrate, and hope NYE is just as good! I’m not home from holiday yet but apparently that didn’t stop me from writing a little whenever I could on holiday. Hope you enjoy this chapter as they get a little more familiar with each other :3 Reblogs appreciated!! <3

Horrific first impressions aside, you were ready to embrace this Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish character as one of your own. Sure, you had been mere moments from cracking him over the head with a bottle and feeding him by hand to the vultures, but if Simon could put up with him then you could too. Perhaps you had just caught him on a bad day.

You shook his hand amicably, choosing to ignore the way he winked at you and held onto your hand just a little too long for your liking, having to practically wrench your hand out from his grip. You stood with an albeit strained smile on your face as Simon, in one of his rare moods for excited talking, regaled tales of him and Soap out on horses in towns further from here than you could ever imagine. You even politely offered to bring Soap’s dinner up to his room later for him, after he complained that his ass was aching from sitting on a horse for too long.

“Ah, maybe I can teach ye some of my trade secret massage techniques to use on me, aye lass?” He copped a swift smack on the head from Simon for that comment, and you took a smoke break.

With the sun setting before you, smoke from your cigarette tiredly billowing in front of you, the chatter from the bar dying out, you sighed. Sliding down with your back on the wall to sit in the dirt, you ran your hand through your hair.

You enjoyed keeping yourself busy; kept you from thinking too much. But in those quiet moments where you snuck off to smoke, you sometimes found comfort in the way your brain still seemed to careen with life, even in silence. At the moment, it seemed to be fixated on your parents, and the tavern they left to you and your brother in their passing.

You were so young then.

Don’t think about it.

The faint sound of a glass smashing was what dragged you back to earth, back into the bar, broom in hand and smoke still whispering its way from your lips. You swept mindlessly, still not all present. You had failed to recall the other times, where the silence was hostile, would bite and claw its way into your sides and sink its teeth in like a parasite.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you felt someone walk just a little too close behind you, and you weren’t at all surprised to look up and see that it was Soap that had invaded your space. You slid uncomfortably back into reality.

“Here, lemme help ye with that one, lass.” Before you could even begin to say you didn’t need help with sweeping, Soap was already on his knees in front of you. Continuing the theme of doing things before you could tell him not to, he was scooping the glass into his bare hands, and then immediately hissing as blood began to weep from a cut on his finger.

You rolled your eyes and propped the broom up on the wall beside you, before kneeling down with Soap. “Stupid,” you muttered, before gently ridding his hands of the glass and clutching his injured one in your own. “What were you expecting, picking up broken glass with your bare hands like that.”

Soap shrugged, his eyes glued on your face instead of his bleeding hand, a detail which you avidly ignored. “Dunno,” he said simply, and you thought he was finished—any other cowboy would end the conversation there, stick with the fact that they don’t know jack and be on their merry way. Unfortunately, Soap wasn’t any other cowboy. “Could ye kiss it better for me, bonnie?”

You dropped his hand with a curt “you’re fine,” and averted your attention to the glass on the floor, sweeping it into a dish rag to take outside, Soap’s cackles accompanying you out the door.

Just as you finish dumping the glass where no one would step on it, you were greeted once a with Soap as you turned around.

“Was only jokin’, lass,” he says with a smirk that told you he probably wasn’t. “Don’t get yer panties in a knot, ‘sides, already got the whole talk from yer brother.” He placed a hand over his heart and spoke solemnly, “I’m not ta touch a hair on yer wee bonnie head, else Ghost’ll never ride with me again.” He began to saunter up to you, hands in his pockets and his head at an annoying tilt that feigned innocence.

Like a dog.

“I know ye were mighty excited at the prospect of gettin’ that massage from me, maybe even gettin’ a little somethin’ else.” He circled you, like he was sizing you up, seeing if you were fit to eat. “But alas, we’re out of luck.” A large, rough hand placed on your shoulder, not yet a threat, but enough of a presence that it could quickly become one if he wanted it to—they were hands that he knew how to use. “Although…”

More like a wolf, or a coyote. Big teeth.

You brushed off his hand with a little more haste than you intended. “Sorry,” you said, a bitter glare burning from your eyes but not quite seeming to register in his, “but I’m not interested. Your room is upstairs, two doors down, on the right.” You patted him on the shoulder in a not quite friendly, but not quite aggressive kind of way, and headed into the bar to start closing up.

-

Simon caught you just as you were bidding goodbye to the last few stragglers to leave, a plate of food in his hands. “Oh, I’ve already eaten, Si, but thank you,” you said, warmly.

“Oh, this ain’t for you,” Simon chuckled, and flicked his head to the ceiling. “‘s for Johnny—you said you’d bring it up to him. I would, but I’ve got my hands full with matters outside.”

Cowboy matters, you were sure. Riveting stuff. The speed at which the smile dropped from your face was surely record breaking. You took the plate from his hands and bid your brother goodnight, feeling at the very least glad that he was in a good mood. Regardless of whether that mood had anything to do with the cowboy upstairs, Simon being happy was a good thing.

Biting back any reservations you had towards interacting with that fiend again, you climbed trepidatiously up the stairs to Soap’s room. You stood in front of the door, searching inside yourself for any ounce of kindness. He had been nothing but unpleasant to be around any time you spoke, but surely, surely he had to be at least semi decent for Simon to think so highly of him.

You knocked and you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

For a moment you thought, with a little glee, that perhaps he had gone and died, but much to your chagrin, he opened the door.

“Sorry ta keep ye waitin’, lass. Was just putting’ my clothes back on—didn’t wanna startle ye.” Soap was stood in the doorway, looming over you like some sort of predator, with a smirk on his face that said he’d like to do much more than startle you. He was sweating too, the gross hound.

“Dinner,” you said, simply, offering up the plate to him with the most polite expression you could muster, under the current circumstances. Your eyelid twitched.

Soap’s attention seemed to flick immediately to the food before him, and he lit up, rubbing his hands in glee. “Och yer an angel, ‘m bloody starvin’, come in, come in.” He ushered you into the room as if he were some sort of welcoming host and you were his eager guest.

Each guest room in the tavern was laid out much the same. A double bed, a table with two chairs and a bucket with some water and a rag, in case whoever was in there wanted to wash. You pressed yourself flat against the closed door as Soap set the plate down on the table nearby, breath hitching in pain as he did so. Your brows furrowed in concern.

“Everything alright there?” You asked, trying to be civil. You wished you hadn’t.

Soap clutched his finger and let out a wailing mockery of pain, catching you completely off guard. “Woe is me! My poor finger, lass! Still it weeps in pain and anguish!”

“Will you keep it down!” you hissed, eyes wide and alert as you rushed to him. “There are people trying to sleep here! Besides, it’s just a tiny cut, you’re fine.”

“Ohh but it’s not fine! I need a little kiss on my wound from a lovely bonnie lass to heal my ails and raise my spirits! Please oh please will ye kiss it better?”

You startled, coming to the abrupt realisation that perhaps this was the reason Simon liked the guy—he was kinda funny (if you squinted real hard and stood at a distance). You chuckled, finding a smile on your lips for the first time since you began interacting with him, and shushed him like a child. “Okay, okay, but only if you promise to keep it down.”

The grin on Soap’s face could have melted glaciers. It wasn’t a bad look, and you were struck with the thought that if he never opened his mouth to speak again, maybe he could be attractive. He was practically glowing as he thrust his finger towards you, wrapping it in your hands. His hand was warm. “Of course, lass, I promise, cowboy’s honour and all that—just give it a wee smooch for me.”

You scoffed but obliged anyway. ‘What’s the harm in entertaining him anyway,’ you thought, raising his finger to your lips.

It was much more intimate of an act than you anticipated—the way he seemed to fall completely silent, not even breathing, in fact you weren’t even sure if you yourself were breathing. The way his finger felt, cushioned against your pouting lips, the way he could have stuck his finger in your mouth so easily if he had chosen to. The way he seemed to shudder, as you kissed his finger, as if this alone was pleasure enough for him.

You let go of his hand the minute if felt too intimate for you, laughing dismissively. “Stupid,” you murmured, averting your gaze.

Soap, on the other hand, was thrilled. He held his hand close to his heart, muttered “I’ll never wash my finger again,” and pressed it to his own lips, making sure to look directly at you.

“That was foul,” you said simply.

“Cannae believe we just had our first kiss!”

“That was not a kiss, that was me kissing your finger and then you kissing your finger after.”

“We’re practically married now, bonnie!”

“You’re insane.”

“D’ye think ol’ Ghost’ll officiate our wedding?”

“You’re delusional. Eat. Your food’s getting cold.”

Soap moved to the table and gestured to the chair opposite his. “Sit! We can have our first meal together as husband and wife,” he exclaimed, propping his chin on his hands like an eager child.

You shook your head, a faint smile still lingering on your lips despite your still remaining reservations about the man before you. “No, Soap, I’m okay. I really should be getting to bed now.”

Soap’s brow furrowed, and for once you saw an emotion on his face other than a smug, confident grin. It startled you, if only a little. “Come on, lass, just stay for a little, I’ll even feed ye some if ye want?”

“Goodnight, Soap.” You turned to leave, but a hand on your wrist stopped you. You did not turn to face him. You would not.

“Please, lass. Stay. I just…”

“Goodnight. Soap.” You brushed his hand off, leaving before he could think of a way to finish his sentence, before you could see the way his lips downturned. Your bed was cold that night, and you dreamt of Soap finishing his cold meal on his own, and lying down in his own cold bed. In another world, maybe you could have found it in yourself to regret it.

[sebastianstansqueen]

A Beautiful, Terrible Thing 13

A/N: In a lot better mood posting this one, also look at this post to know about whats going on because I'm dropping a sub plot but i'm going to be updating this a lot more, and as always Feedback is always appreciated if you want to be Tagged, either send an ask or comment on this or click on Taglist open.

Wordcount: 1,932

Warnings: Angst, leading on to smut, and I think thats it I missed any thing tell me pleas!

Masterlist //  Taglist open // Series Masterlist

Tags:@cherryblossomskye - @babylooneytoonz - @wonderlandfandomkingdom - @miraclesoflove - @amelia-song-pond - @leyannrae - @avengerlex - @pineprincess - @nik2writes - @dorothea-hwldr - @rosie-posie08 - @scxrletrecsmarvel -@ginger-swag-rapunzel - @brownlee-22 - @vicmc624 - @austynparksandpizza - @calwitch - @dontbescaredtosingalong -

Y/n paced Bucky’s office as the memories continued wearing in her mind, some of them bringing tears to her eyes, others fueling anger, it was late at night still Bucky had brought her here after she’d requested it. Tony eventually followed in coming along with Bucky. “What is this?” Tony demanded, angry about being awoken in the middle of his sleep along with angry about none of his questions being met with no answers. 

“You’ll see, now will you shut up? I wouldn’t have awoken you for no reason this is more important than you think.” Bucky hissed at the man just outside the door. 

“Will you two just stop arguing?” Y/n said with irritation. “Gods!”  

“What the hell, she hasn’t been irritated since before-you remember?” Tony asked,

Y/n nodded. Y/n told them everything she remembered from when she was in Hydrana.

“They have a witch, she’s more powerful than Wanda.” Y/n said softly with fear Bucky hugged her closer to him.

“She can’t be Wanda broke her spell if this which you speak of is so powerful Wanda wouldn’t have been able to break the spell.” Tony spoke. 

Then the doors were opened, and along with them Wanda came in the kings and the Queen looked up. “Hydana t-they’re planning on attacking there marching upon us as we speak.”

“We need to find Steve and round up the troops and leave.” Bucky told Tony. 

Tony nodded. “Every King here will fight with you James to defend the North.”

The sun was rising in the East, over vast mountains covered in Snow and pine trees Kings sat upon their horses in armor there soldiers ready to defend their friends and their own kingdoms. 

Tony and Bucky told Y/n she could not be allowed to go with them to where the war would rage, all the men had rode off when they were able to see their breaths being seen in the air, Y/n watched as they rode off, her irritation grew by the second. Yelena came to help her get dressed. “You're plotting something.” The blond spoke.

Y/n looked at her from the balcony. “Aye, I am.” 

“Well I want to help.” Yelena smirked.

Y/n smiled at her new friend. “Great, we’re going to need Wanda’s help too.”  Wanda helped create a suit of armor for the Queen, it had the cold Sliver of the North with hints of gold from the South, made with ancient dragon scales to make it fireproof, the metal made of vibranium, along with a sword one side of the blade silver and the other gold.  She wore a long sleeve leather shirt along with leather pants and boots all protected with armor. 

“I’m leaving immediately. I need Moon in his own armor so that he can come along and not be harmed.” Y/n told her closest friends. 

“I’m coming with you Y/n.” Yelena insisted, wearing black armor now instead of a handmaid dress. 

Y/n shook her head. “I will not ask you to do that Yelena, I won’t ask you to come along and possibly die.” 

“I'm not offering my life, I'm coming to make up my due for all the pain my homeland has caused, and if I do die for you it will be worth it, you saved my life one I owe you now more than ever.” Yelena told her.

“I won’t let you die for me, but you can come along.” Y/n sighed.

Y/n got on Moon who now wore vibranium and dragon scale armor similar to his owne, Snow by her side and Yelena mounted upon Wanda's horse, Y/n turned to said friend. “Wanda make sure nothing happens to Aaron please.” The Queen begged. 

“You know I will, and I’ll protect the army’s form here with my magic.” Wanda assured her friend with a squeeze of her friend's hands. 

The Queen and Handmaid road off towards where the Kings and there army’s road, Y/n there horses road as fast as there legs could go, a comment pounding across the could ground the two horses and the single wolf ran. 

“Hopefully they are not all dead by the time we get to the camp.” Yelen huffed out. 

Y/n looked at the woman. “They won't be Hydrana may be far but most of them are lazy and stupid people spesificaly the people who support the royals, it took the men who kidnapped me days to get to there kingdome while James and my brother made it in a night you know why, it’s because they persevered and didn’t let anything stop them, and we are of the North so we will make it before it is too late.” 

After hours of riding, the two women caught up to the army’s and their leaders, 

Yelena and Y/n rode around the army to the front where she would find her husband and brother she rode to a stop in front of the men, being jolted forward and almost off the horse while Snow's fur stood on end. “Y/n?” Bucky asked aloud.

“You two thought you could make me stay in the walls of the castle while you fight, great joke, but I’m coming and fighting, and I’m killing that tyrant.” Y/n spoke with a powerful voice showing she wasn’t going to stand down. “Or I’ll fight on my own with Yelena and Snow by my side.”

Tony was the first to speak up. “I will not watch you die, I will not lose my mother, father and sister.”

“Tony this isn’t your place to speak, we aren't in the South this isn’t your land.” Y/n argued with her brother. “You can not command me of anything.”

“I say let her fight.” King T’challa spoke first. “My army is that of women and I haven’t seen them lose a fight yet, but I have seen army’s of only men lose.” 

“Aye! I agree.” Thor spoke. “That of the Valkyrie have lived to see many fight’s along with Lady Sif.” Tony looked at the man who is his brother-in-law. “James, you can't possibly agree.” 

Bucky looked at the man. “I won’t let my wife die alone.” He spoke. 

Tony used his rains to make his horse Philippe go forward and around his sister, Moon fell in march with Winter, Snow still walking beside her owner.  “Where’s Night?” Y/n asked her husband.

“He’s in the back protecting us from attackers.” He told her. 

“Tony will get over it, you know, and so will you.” She spoke. “It’s only fair.”

Bucky huffed. “I do wish you stayed at the castle, for you’ll be a distraction.” “That’s why I’ll worry about myself and you will worry about you.” She told him. “I don’t need your protection, I can tie my own boots myself like a big girl.”  She said sarcastically. 

They rode until sunset, which is when they set up camp, and they ate a shitty meal but all dealt with it, then the King's plan to strategize, Tony had told her to go into the tent she and Bucky would share until the next morning but she ignored what he told her, she followed the leaders to where they were headed, she being the last of them to show up hidden behind many of the men, she had to fight through the tall stachtures of men like King Thor and King T’challa. Once she wormed her way through she was met with judging looks from some of the Kings, Tony looked at her with furrowed brows. “What are you doing?” Tony asked his sister. 

Y/n looked at the room of men who were murmuring. “If I’m going to be a part of this war, I’m going to be in the meeting to plan with you all.” She stated to all of the kings standing around the table. “I’m not a child, I’m no longer a Princess I’m the Queen of the North, and I plan to fight with my King to protect our lands and realms, so it’s time that you pull your heads form your arses and start to actually see me as King T’chall and Thor do and treat me with the same respect you show all of your army’s and your fellow rulers, I have been through hell’s you can’t even possibly imagine and I plan to get my revenge, and kill the man who took my unborn child away from me, and so I will take his head and my wolf will feed off his corps.” This seemed to rhile the men up, making them cheer. 

After some plotting they all drank  and along with alcohol came lust, Y/n led Bucky away from the rest of the men to their large tent once inside, Y/n scoffed. “And you wanted to have this to yourself.” She smirked as she undressed the man in front of her, both had already taken off the armor they wore while riding. 

Bucky smirked. “You look good in black.” 

Yelena sat on a wood log alone and watched as the Queen vowed her loyalties to lead the King away, sadness took a lock over her features, the Captain came and sat next to the woman. “If your looking for a good fuck I suggest looking else where.” 

The blond man laughed. “Not so much a fuck, but a conversation, I alredy have someone back in the north waiting.” 

“Oh, is it lady Natasha or Wanda?” Yelena asked. 

“Lady Peggy.” Steve told her honestly. 

Yelen looked at him. “From the old kingdom?” The man nodded. “I heard it’s hard to leave.” 

“She figured it out, but I’m not here to talk to you about my love but about yours, the King I think your new best friend wouldn’t be too happy with sharing her hu-” She cut off Steve. 

“I don’t think her husband would be happy with sharing.” She interrupted.

Steve looked at her with shock. “The Quee-” “I suggest we shut up before I am beheaded by one of these men.” Yelena interrupted before he could finish. “I promised to protect her and that is what I will do even if I die.” 

“That’s not what she would want.” Steve told her. “If you make it through this I will make sure you are rewarded.”

“How?” She asked. 

“A Guard?” He offered. 

She scoffed. “And have to match passt there door and listen to the King fuck her, no thank you.” 

“All the women you want? A one way free ticket to a whore house for the rest of your life.” He said, smirking.

“Kill me.” She told him. 

Steve whipped his head towards her. “I can not do that, it would be against what I believe, and Y/n would never allow it, you would have to be an enemy of the North for me to kill you.” 

“Then if I live I’ll kill one of your men, one who’s a fool and then you can take me to the forest and chop my head off.” She told him as she kicked back the rest of her ale. 

“No you won’t, I’ll give you all the riches you want and you can go live a peaceful life, no death, just a peaceful life in the North, South or any kingdom you wish, but I won’t kill you and you will not kill one of my men.” He spoke softly to her. “I do want one thing from you.” “Hmm?” She hummed. 

“Tell Y/n.” 

[lesfeldickbiblestudy]

  Through the Bible with Les Feldick LESSON 1 * PART 3 * BOOK 70 LO-AMMI - NOT MY PEOPLE – PART 3 Hosea 1:1–2:18 Okay, it is good to see all ready to go again.  We are on program number three this afternoon in book 70.  So, we’ve been here a long time.  My, we just can’t believe we’ve been doing this for sixteen years in October.  Unbelievable!  How we appreciate all you folks across the country out there in TV-land.  Again, we want to thank you for your kind letters about how the Word is impacting. Okay, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so we’ll dispense with any other comments and get right back into Hosea.  Hosea, for those of you here in the studio audience, we’re in chapter 1.  Let’s jump back in at verse 7. Hosea 1:7a “But I will have mercy…” Now you see, whenever God expresses His wrath and His vengeance and His judgment, He also shows the other side, which is His mercy.  Here we have it again.  That even though He’s going to have to bring chastisement upon the Nation and He will utterly take them away, yet He says: Hosea 1:7 “But I will have mercy upon the house of Judah, (that’s the Southern two tribes, remember, where Hosea is ministering.) and will save them by the LORD their God, and will not save them by bow, nor by sword, nor by battle, by horses, nor by horsemen.”  But rather by His own intrinsic Sovereign power. Now, let’s be reminded that the Southern Kingdom lasted about a hundred years longer than the Northern Kingdom.  Israel, the Ten Tribes, will be overrun by the Syrians about a hundred years before Judah goes under the hand of the Babylonians.  Now I don’t think, if I’m remembering correctly, I did not really finish our verses back there in II Kings.  I’m going to bring you back here again, if I may, so that you see why God’s patience ran out with the Ten Tribes that we are now calling Israel. For some reason or another I digressed.  I guess that’s when I jumped up to the New Testament, wasn’t it?  All right, come back with me to II Kings.  I want you to see why God’s hand of chastisement came upon these Ten Tribes of the North.  All right, we were in verse 7 of II Kings 17. II Kings 17:7-8 “For so it was that the children of Israel had sinned against the LORD their God, who had brought them up out of the land of Egypt, from under the hand of Pharaoh king of Egypt, and had feared other gods, 8. And walked in the statutes (or the religious rituals and systems) of the heathen, whom the LORD cast out from before the children of Israel, and of the kings of Israel, which they had made.” Now, I made comment in the last program that as the leadership goes, so goes the Nation.  It’s the same way today.  If you have a corrupt leadership, the nation is going to go right down with it.  All right, now verse 9.  Here we get to the crux of the problem. II Kings 17:9a “And the children of Israel did secretly those things that were not right…”  We covered that in the last lesson - verse 10. II Kings 17:10-12a “And they set them up images and groves in every high hill, and under every green tree: 11. And there they burnt incense in all the high places, as did the heathen whom the LORD carried away before them; and wrought wicked things to provoke the LORD to anger: 12. For they served idols,…” I think that’s where I jumped up to the New Testament.    All right, now let’s jump in to verse 13. II Kings 17:13a “Yet the LORD testified against Israel, and against Judah, by all the prophets,…”  Now, I had a thought as I was studying this.  Where’s the priesthood?  Well, they’re not much better than the rank and file.  So, who does God have to use to preach to Israel, common ordinary men, the Prophets.  Have you ever thought of that before - that none of the Prophets were priests?  I never had.  They were totally separate from the priesthood. Now, the priests were religious.  They carried out all the Temple worship, but in heart and mind they were just as idolatrous as the people.  But here we have that little remnant of

Prophets that God raises up to warn the people that if they do not change, if they don’t repent of their idolatry, this is what’s coming.  All right, go back into verse 13. II Kings 17:13 “Yet the LORD testified against Israel, and against Judah, by all the prophets, and by all the seers, saying, Turn ye (Now that’s repentance.) from your evil ways, and keep my commandments and my statutes, according to all the law which I commanded your fathers, and which I sent to you by my servants (not the priests) the prophets.”  Amazing, isn’t it? II Kings 17:14-15a “Notwithstanding they would not hear, but hardened their necks, like to the neck of their fathers, that did not believe in the LORD their God. 15. And they rejected his statutes, and his covenant that he made with their fathers, and his testimonies…” Now verse 16, I’m doing this for sake of time now. II Kings 17:16 “And they left all the commandments of the LORD their God, and made them molten images, (In other words, they melted down the metals.) even two calves, and made a grove, and worshipped all the host of heaven, and served Baal.” Do you see what they are doing?  It wasn’t even the idols that they made out of whatever it was, but they worshipped the moon, they worshipped the sun, they worshipped the mountain, and they’d worship a tree.  Anything to fulfill their idolatrous desires!  It’s just beyond me, and I imagine it is for most of you.  But this was Israel!  Now, we’re not talking about the Babylonians!  We’re not talking about the Syrians.  We’re talking about Israel, the chosen people.  Isn’t it unbelievable? And yet, you know, as I told somebody at break time or before we started this afternoon, in my own mind’s eye, even though I have no scriptural basis to do so, who do I have to compare with Israel?  The United States of America - because we have been so blessed spiritually.  The whole purpose of our founding fathers to come over here was to get away from the heavy hand, not of politics, but the heavy hand of what?  Religion!   On that basis our forefathers established this nation on the Word of God. Whether they were all born again believers or not is to me moot.  They rested on the Word of God. I always like to rehearse what I read years ago.  When they were trying to pound out our Constitution, being representative of everybody in the country, some of the big states like Pennsylvania and Virginia were kind of heavy handed over the smaller states like Rhode Island and maybe some of the New England states.  So, what was the fear of the small states?  Well, they wouldn’t have a voice in government.  That was one of the most crucial things that our founding fathers had to hammer out. But as this writer put it, and I have to depend on what people say, that when they got at loggerheads, the big states like Virginia and Pennsylvania would not just overrun the small states, they would dismiss.  They would go to prayer rooms and those men were not ashamed to get down on their knees and pray and ask for wisdom.  They’d come back to the convention hall and they would pick up where they left off.  That was how our Constitution was finally hammered out. Now, what are we seeing today?  They don’t even want the name of God on our currency.  They don’t want it even spoken in the Pledge of Allegiance.  They’re making so much noise that government people are starting to listen to them.  And it’s frightening that we’re going down the same road.  We’ve been so blessed, and we’re turning our back on it.  So, as we go through all these teachings in the next several programs in these Minor Prophets, do like I do.  Just make the parallel, even though scripturally I can’t say that, but just on the basis of common sense and what we know of our own national history, my, aren’t we in the same kind of a situation? All right, back to II Kings - why did God finally permit the Syrians to come in and overrun them and take them out?  All right, verse 17, now this was getting pretty low.  We covered this when we studied Isaiah.

II Kings 17:17a “And they caused their sons and their daughters (their little infants) to pass through the fire,…”  In other words, they offered them to the “fire god, Moloch.”  You remember I pointed out when we were in Isaiah that they named the valley The Valley of Drums, because they were beating the drums to drown out the cries of their little ones.  Horrible!  Horrible!  Now, these weren’t pagans.  These were Israelites. II Kings 17:17-18 “And they caused their sons and their daughters to pass through the fire, and used divination (satanic power) and enchantments, and sold themselves to do evil in the sight of the LORD, to provoke him to anger. 18. Therefore, the LORD was very angry with Israel, and removed them out of his sight: there was none left but the tribe of Judah only.” And of course Benjamin was with them.  So, the Ten Tribes to the North, now, are who we’re dealing with.  But, Judah also is heading down that same road.  They’re going to go out, like I said earlier, 75 or 100 years later. II Kings 17:19-20 “Also Judah kept not the commandments of the LORD their God, (Even Judah with the Temple in their midst) but walked in the statutes of Israel which they made.  20. And the LORD rejected all the seed of Israel, and afflicted them, and delivered them into the hand of spoilers, (That is invaders.) until he had cast them out of his sight.”   Isn’t that sad?  No longer God’s People.  No longer His chosen.  He cast them out.  Now, verse 21: II Kings 17:21-22 “For he rent (or He tore) Israel from the house of David; and they made Jeroboam the son of Nebat king: and Jeroboam drove (or led) Israel from following the LORD, and made them sin a great sin. 22. For the children of Israel walked in all the sins of Jeroboam which he did; (There again, like I said, as the leadership goes so goes the masses.) they departed not from them;” God took it with mercy and compassion and pleading and they would not and finally the day came. II Kings 17:22b-23 …and they departed not from them (their sins), 23. Until the LORD removed Israel out of his sight, as he had said by all his servants the prophets.  So was Israel carried away out of their own land to Assyria unto this day.”  Now remember, Israel here is the Ten Northern Kingdoms – the Ten Tribes of the North.  So, “Israel was carried away out of their own land to Assyria.” So, Sennacherib was, if I’m not mistaken, the king that came in and took the Ten Tribes.  Now, I always have to make a point.  You know that there’s been teaching over the years as false as a $3.00 bill saying that the Ten Tribes that were supposedly lost became the people of Western Europe and Scandinavia.  Well, number one, the Ten Tribes were never lost.  By the time that Ezra and Nehemiah come back from the captivities, all the Tribes are represented. So, what happened?  Well, I haven’t got time on the program like I’d like to, but if you will do this on your own.  You go back and research the civil wars between Judah and Israel.  They had civil war just like you are seeing in Iraq today.  The Southern Kingdom actually set up an array of military against the Ten.  Well, numbers alone will tell you, what’s it going to be?  How many troops can two tribes provide compared to ten?  Well, the number of the first civil war was something like 300,000 from Judah, but the Ten Tribes of Israel had 1,300,000.  Naturally, they just wiped them out. Well, when you go about ten years later, if I remember correctly, they have another civil war and the numbers are about even.  They both have about the same.  Then you go thirty years later and they have another civil war.  Now, Judah has one million some hundred thousand and Israel’s army was like a little flock of kid goats.  Well, what in the world had happened?  Well, they’d been migrating.  Common sense will tell you that.  The Temple was down in Judah.  They’d probably had more prosperity down there.  So, the people of the Ten Tribes to the North were migrating down into

Judah, so that by the time Sennacherib comes in and takes Israel captive, hey, it was probably only ten percent of the whole.  So, don’t ever buy into that teaching that the Ten Tribes to the North were lost.  No, they were never lost.  They were assimilated. Now, I’ve got a verse of Scripture to show that, all the way up in the New Testament.  Let’s jump up to Acts a minute.  Keep your hand in Hosea. We’ll come right back. But just to prove my point that the Ten Tribes of the Northern Kingdom were never lost, come all the way up to Acts chapter 2.  We have Peter on the day of Pentecost.  Acts chapter 2 verse 36, just to make my point that the Ten Tribes were never lost.  If I had time, I could show you that even in Ezra and Nehemiah it’s referenced that all Israel came back from the captivity.  All the tribes were represented.   But look what Peter says, verse 36. Acts 2:36a “Therefore let ALL the house of Israel know assuredly,…” Well, who’s the whole house of Israel?  Well, all the Tribes.  Not just Judah and Benjamin, not just the Ten Tribes of the north, the whole house of Israel is all of them.  Now, I’ve got some more verses we’re going to look at here in just a minute, but I’m running ahead of myself.  Come back to Hosea verse 8.    We’re still dealing with Hosea and the wife that he took out of idolatry from the North. Hosea 1:8-9 “Now when she had weaned Lo-ruhamah, she conceived, and bare a son. (Now remember, she had a son and then a daughter, and now she has another son.) 9. Then said God, Call his name Lo-ammi: (which meant not my people) for ye are not my people, and I will not be your God.”  Now, you see all the symbolism here? The first child was the result of Hosea, a prophet in Judah, taking a wife out of idolatrous Israel. The first child came and it was an indication of the blessings that would one day come upon the Nation of Israel.  Then she has the daughter, and it was named Lo-ruhamah, which meant there was no pity.  In other words, God’s wrath would come because of their unbelief and their idolatry.  Now we come down to their third child, and his name indicates that they are not God’s people.  They have refused to repent of their idolatry, and He turns His back upon them. But always remember, what was the promise made way back to King David through the prophet Nathan?  That even though Israel would sin…let’s go back and look at it.  I’ve got to do things from Scripture.  I can’t help it.  II Samuel chapter 7 verse 14 - now listen, the Word of God never lies.  It may seem like God has forgotten what He said, but He hasn’t.  It’s still a valid promise.  All right, you all got it?  God says: II Samuel 7:14 “I will be his father, and he shall be my son. (Speaking now of the Nation of Israel in a little different form of grammar.) If he commit iniquity, I will chasten him (I will discipline him) with the rod of men, and with the stripes of the children of men:”  What does that refer to?  Invading armies. I will chasten them with invading armies.  They’ll overrun you.  They’ll take away your crops.  They’ll put you into subjection.  They’ll tax you to death.  Now, I want people to know that’s what the Koran teaches, too, you know.  That if the Muslims take over a country, anybody that doesn’t succumb to the Muslim, or doesn’t convert, if they’re not put to death, they can choose a state, which they call the dhimmi (the d-h-i-m-m-i).  What’s a dhimmi in Muslim government?  It is a man with no rights who can be taxed to death.  They can come into his home and take everything he’s got.  He’s got no defense, because he’s a dhimmi.  And that’s what people want?  I don’t.  But that’s what the Koran teaches.  It’s either convert or you become a dhimmi. Well, now Israel was under that same thing until they started going back to their homeland.  That’s why I’m aware of all this.  I’m reading the book again that I recommended in my last newsletter, From Time Immemorial by Joan Peters.  Now, it’s not an easy read.  But I’ll tell you what.

  It’ll open your eyes as to what caused the Jews to return to their homeland. All right, so here we are.  God says, “I will chasten him with invading armies, and with the stripes of the children of men.”  In other words, the subjection to enemy government and rule.  What’s the first word of the next verse?  “But.”  The flipside!  This is God. He’s a God of vengeance, but He’s a God of love and mercy. II Samuel 7:15 “But my mercy shall not depart away from him, (Even though God says, you’re not my people.  Even though God says, you’re out of sight.  Yet, in the heart of God, His mercy is still waiting to be exercised.  So, He says, I will not turn my mercy from you…) as I took it from Saul, whom I put away before thee.” All right, now then, if you’ll come back to Hosea.  I only have a few minutes left.  Now verse 10, here’s the promise coming back on the other side of the coin. Even though he will not be their God in verse 9, verse 10 says:  Hosea 1:10a “Yet the number of the children of Israel shall be as the sand of the sea, which cannot be measured nor numbered; and it shall come to pass,…”  Now, when I taught the Book of Isaiah, you remember what I emphasized?  What does that mean?  It’s going to happen.  Israel is not going to disappear.  Oh, we’ve got this guy over in Tehran who thinks they will.  He thinks he’s going to drive every Jew into the sea.  Obliterate them with “nukes” or whatever.  No, he’s not.  Israel isn’t going to cease being a nation.  Oh, God’s going to chastise them again, but they’re not going to cease being a nation.  We’ll look at that maybe in our next program.  Okay, so reading on now in verse 10. Hosea 1:10b “…and it shall come to pass, that in the place where it was said unto them, Ye are not my people, there it shall be said unto them, Ye are the sons of the living God.” Well, what is that?  That’s a complete reversal.  Do you see that?  God will never abandon the Children of Israel.  Oh, even now most of them are over there in unbelief.  And they’re going through hard times.  They’re going to go through a lot more.  But, God hasn’t abandoned them.  He hasn’t given up on them. Hosea 1:11 “Then shall the children of Judah and the children of Israel be gathered together, (Now, you see it?  The two Kingdoms, all twelve Tribes now.) and appoint themselves one head, and they shall come up out of the land: for great shall be the day of Jezreel. (or the day of their blessings)” Now, I think I’ve got time enough.  Let’s go back to Deuteronomy chapter 30. This is an explanation of where we are in the news today.  This is the answer for the world’s dilemma.  What about these Israelites, or Israeli’s, as they are called today?  What about them?  Where did they come from?  Well, not like these covenant replacement people tell us.  They’re not from some tribes in the Russian Steppes.  They’re not the Czars.  They’re not from some place east of the Caucasians. But rather, there are Jews that are in Israel today.   They are just as Jewish as these people in the Scripture.  Here’s my point, Deuteronomy 30 verse 1.  We’ve used it before. Deuteronomy 30:1 “And it shall come to pass, (Again, it’s going to happen.) when all these things are come upon thee, the blessing and the curse, (See the ups and downs of Israel’s history?)  which I have set before thee, and thou shalt call them to mind (Where?) among all the nations, (Every last nation on earth will have Jews within its borders.) whither the LORD thy God hath driven thee,” And, you know, by 1970 that was a total reality.  There was not a nation on the face of this planet that did not have a Jewish community.  Not a one!  So, this was fulfilled.  They have now been scattered into every nation under heaven.  But look at the promise in verse 2: Deuteronomy 30:2 “And shalt (What?) return unto the LORD thy God, and shalt obey his voice according to all that I command thee this day, thou and thy children, with all thine heart, and with all thy soul;” Now, I just told

somebody on the phone, several times in the last week or two, in light of everything that’s going on in the Middle East and how people hate the Jew and how they think that they’re usurpers and they have no business being there. Listen, this prophecy was written 3,500 years ago.  And it’s being fulfilled right before our eyes.  But the world can’t see that.  But this is what God said thirty five hundred years ago - you’re going to be scattered unto every nation under heaven, and then you’re going to come home.  And there they are.  They can’t tell me they don’t belong there, because God said they would.   He says they will return, and then the day would come when they would serve God with all their heart and with all their soul.

[fan-fantasies]

What a Fool (P.3)

A/N: this part is a bit long but I hope you enjoy! As always, please reblog and comment if you like the story ❤️

Pairing: mainly Sihtric x Reader

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Part two // Part four

You woke the next morning and Finan was already getting ready.

“Morning, sunshine! Better get ready fast; Uhtred says we are to leave immediately,” he said. You groaned and laid back on the bed.

“We have barely just arrived,” you sighed.

“It is a hard life for the saviors of Wessex,” he laughed. “Although this time we are headin’ to Mercia.”

“For the Lady Aethelflaed?” You asked. He nodded. You were excited to return to Mercia but feared for your friend. The lady of Mercia was always kind to you ever since you joined Uhtred’s group of warriors. She even offered you save haven with her should you ever decide to retire your sword.

You were glad that Finan hadn’t mentioned the night before, not knowing what you’d even say to him if he did. He was attractive and a good man, but you weren’t certain what he wanted exactly. You could ask, of course, but you weren’t the communicative type. So you settled for waiting for him to bring it up- which he hadn’t.

You met the rest of your group by the stables, Sihtric eyeing the two of you suspiciously.

“I hope you two actually got some sleep,” Uhtred smirked.

“Plenty of it, lord,” Finan said, glaring at Sihtric. His hard gaze softened when he caught your eye. You gave him a small smile and finished packing your bags.

The ride to Mercia was not terrible, but there was a haste to get there. Word spread that Aethelflaed’s husband wished her dead so Uhtred feared for her safety. If anything were to happen to her, you’d slit her husband’s throat yourself.

The group eventually stopped to rest and water the horses, only for a brief time. You decided to lay in the field for a bit, relaxing under the clouds. It was something you would do often when time would allow it, just to take your mind off of things.

“May I join you?” Sihtric asked. You smiled up at him.

“Of course, I’d be honored.” He laid down next to you, only inches away.

“I’ve always wondered why you do this, but I can see how peaceful it is,” he acknowledged.

“I have to remind myself to stop and breathe sometimes, to remember that there is so much more out there besides myself and my worries. That I am insignificant in comparison and should not stress so much,” you said.

“You are not insignificant,” he whispered. You turned your head to look at him only to find him already looking at you. Your breath caught in your throat and your heart began to race. You had never been so close to him, unless you were sparring. You admired how beautiful he was, scars and all.

“The world is bigger than I am, and there are much more important things out there,” you finally said.

“I disagree, lady,” he said. You let out a breathy, nervous laugh. He slowly inched closer and you followed suit. Your lips were mere centimeters apart when a pail of water splashed down on top of you.

“Wake up!” Finan shouted.

“We weren’t sleeping you absolute arsehole!” You screamed.

“My apologies.” He tried to contain his smile. “Uhtred says we are to depart.”

You stood up and drew your sword, pointing it at Finan.

“Do that again and I’ll have your balls, Irishman,” you said.

“I’ll give you the whole package if you ask nicely,” he smirked. You rolled your eyes and held out your hand for Sihtric, helping him up from the ground.

“May I ride along side you, (Y/N)?” Sihtric asked.

“I would enjoy that very much,” you answered. Sihtric had always been sweet. He was quiet but he was fiercely loyal to Uhtred and the rest of your group. You even harbored a small crush on him but you’d given up hope that he returned the feeling.

“I could protect ya better,” Finan added.

“Well I was hoping she’d be the one to protect me,” Sihtric said. He sent you a wink and you laughed.

“Don’t be mistaken, I’m the protection in this group,” you told them.

You all got on your horses and set out on the last leg of your journey. You and Sihtric rode in a comfortable silence, just enjoying one another’s company.

When you arrived at the lady’s estate, you ran to find her. She was in her living quarters with her daughter and most trusted servant. You immediately ran to her and embraced her tightly.

“Thank the heavens you are here,” she said quietly.

“We would not want to be anywhere else,” you replied. She joined you and the others in her dining hall for some supper. Sihtric stayed close to your side the entire time but you weren’t complaining.

After supper, the lady pulled you aside.

“I have noticed you have a shadow,” she said, eyeing Sihtric who was still not far away.

“Yes, he has remained quite close to me today,” you admitted.

“Have you told him of your feelings?” She asked, more quietly than before.

“No!” You hissed. “I would not want to make things weird if he did not feel the same. And…there have been some…happenings between me and someone else.”

“Who?”

“Finan,” you whispered.

“What happened?” You had her full attention and it made you laugh. You hadn’t realized how much you missed her and your chats.

“We shared a bed and…and nothing happened because Sihtric interrupted but if he hadn’t…”

“Well has he said anything?” She asked.

“No, no one has said anything.” Aethelflaed rolled her eyes.

“How is anything supposed to happen if no one says anything?”

“If it is meant to happen then it will,” you said.

“You are ridiculous,” she laughed. “So you have feelings for Finan now?”

“I don’t know! I’m very confused,” you told her. She nodded and pulled you in for a hug.

“Either of them would be lucky to have you,” she said. You gave her a small smile and told her to hush before Uhtred walked over.

“It is getting late; we will take over watch for your men,” he said.

“My men are capable enough,” Aethelflaed argued.

“Lady, truly even I would feel better if we were guarding you,” you said. You knew she would argue less with you than Uhtred. “I will take first watch myself.”

“I shall join you,” Sihtric said. You nodded and grabbed your sword. Uhtred told you that he’d come relieve you after a few hours of sleep.

You and Sihtric stationed yourselves in front of the estate, hidden off to the side to surprise any attackers.

“I can tell you are happy to be here,” he said.

“I am. I have missed my friend very much,” you smiled.

“I am glad to see you so happy, lady.”

“Sihtric, please, you don’t have to call me lady,” you chuckled. He smiled sheepishly and nodded. Time passed slowly and you felt your eyes getting heavy.

“I can stand guard on my own and Uhtred will be here soon. You should rest,” he said, snapping you from your sleepy daze.

“I am fine,” you protested. He scooted closer to you and handed you his water container. You took a sip, the cool water waking you up a bit.

“I think the only thing I enjoy more than watching the clouds is watching the stars with you,” he said, seemingly out of nowhere.

“We’re supposed to be watching for enemies,” you smirked.

“I can stand guard and admire beauty at the same time.” For the second time that day, you looked at him and your breath hitched in your throat. A small flutter erupted in your chest and you had to look away, just to keep yourself from leaning over and kissing him.

“You have a suitor’s tongue today, lord,” you half-joked.

“I am doing nothing but being honest,” he said, taking your hand gently in his. “Please look at me.”

You did as he said and he pressed a quick, but sweet, kiss to your lips. It ended as soon as it began but it made you melt nonetheless.

You wanted to kiss him again- every fiber of your being wanted to- but before you could, you heard footsteps approaching. You both jumped up, swords at the ready.

“Stand down,” Uhtred said from the darkness. You lowered your weapons and sighed.

“We’re here to take over. Go get some rest,” Osferth said. The two of you took your leave and went to the guest chambers.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Sihtric said, grabbing your hand and placing a kiss to the back.

“Sihtric, I-” but before you could finish, he stopped you.

“Get some rest, we can speak tomorrow.” He released your hand and gave you a knowing smile. You nodded and went into your room, a warm feeling settling in.

As happy as you were, you were equally as confused. You had an attraction to Finan, but that was mostly physical. The connection you shared with Sihtric was something more. You slept restlessly that night, unable to quiet your mind.

When you finally did wake, you were confused as to why no one had called you for the next guard shift. You got dressed and made your way outside where you saw Finan and Sihtric huddled together in a heated discussion. You moved closer so you could hear what they were saying.

“I’m telling you, I want this game to end!” Sihtric said.

“Because you’re afraid you’re going to lose?” Finan laughed. “I will bed her tonight and she will be mine. You know the terms of our bet.”

“So you think all she is is a good hump?”

“I know you think the same,” Finan shrugged. You heart fell into your stomach. What you were feeling was nothing more than a game to these men. You felt like you were going to be sick, so you ran. You ran past the estate and back to the stables where your horse was waiting. You didn’t think, you just grabbed her and pulled her to the back entrance. The guards there did not think twice when you passed by.

Lady Aethelflaed and Uhtred emerged from her chamber, calling everyone for breakfast. All his warriors gathered except for you.

“Could you raise (Y/N) from her slumber?” The lady asked her maid.

“I went to her chamber but she was not there,” she replied. Everyone looked around.

“Has anyone seen her since last night?” Sihtric asked.

“She left with her horse not long ago. We thought she was on an errand,” one of the guards spoke up.

“Why would she leave?” Uhtred asked. Sihtric and Finan locked eyes.

“Surely she did not hear us,” Finan whispered.

“If she did, I will kill you myself,” Sihtric snapped.

“I will kill you both myself if either of you did anything to upset her,” Aethelflaed said, making them both jump.

“Osferth, take two men and go after her,” Uhtred instructed. He looked at the two troublemakers. “Explain yourselves.”

“Well a few days ago-”

To be continued…

The Last Kingdom Taglist: @cornervase @camillabrady @moldy-khunt @stray-bi-kids @emilyhufflepufftlk

[iwritetopassthetime]

of vipers and doves II (6/11)

Oberyn Martell x fem!reader

CHAPTER FIVE: Winter Comes to Dorne // Previous chapter // Masterlist // Next chapter

QUICK NOTE! Thank you all so much for the kind way you’ve received this story so far. It turns out that Tumblr had shadowbanned me and that’s why none of you had gotten your tag notification. I was worried that you disliked the story so much that you didn’t even bother reading it, but I know not to overthink stuff and resolved the issue with Tumblr. I’m glad that you can see the story now and that you like it. Your comments mean everything to me. For the returning readers, if you think last time was a rollercoaster of emotions, get ready for this fucking hurricane! MUAHAHAHAHA enjoy 🌸

Wordcount: 5.2K

warnings: discussions of warfare; overall angst; Oberyn misses his dove :( 

Sunspear was up-in-arms since the abduction of Princesses Y/N and Myrcella. The desert roads from there to all the nearest cities hadn’t seen as many travelling horse companies. The marks in the sand showing where hundreds of warriors had ridden through on their way to answer their liege’s call to arms.

Doran had kept his promise to Oberyn and sent word to his bannermen, requesting that they join for the sake of the two missing princesses. Dorne only ever joined wars if it was attacked and this was a grave attack. Of course, none of the lords needed much convincing since Princess Y/N was beloved throughout Dorne for her kindness and selflessness. Many even volunteered to join the ranks of the army if it meant bringing back the Martell princess. 

A name had started to reappear in people’s conversations and attached to it was a sense of dread; people who could remember Robert’s Rebellion remembered also the tragic end of princess Elia. Another gracious lady of house Martell that met a horrid end at the hands of the Lannisters. Nobody wanted for that to happen again and it spurred newer and many more recruits to the Martell army ranks.

Oberyn was in the midst of it, holding strategy meetings with Areo Hotah at his side. Doran had pleaded his captain of the guard to remain at his younger brother’s side as he needed him kept safe. Doran did not voice his fears, but he knew the risk Oberyn would put himself under to save his wife. This absolute, burning devotion he had for Y/N was unmatched to anything Doran had seen in his brother before, even with Ellaria. Oberyn was ready to march to King’s Landing on his own and put a hundred Lannister soldiers on his spear if it meant saving his beloved. 

Thankfully, no such drastic measures would’ve been needed since the nearest Dornish noble houses had started to stream into Sunspear, their banners joining the pierced red sun of the Martell coat of arms. Houses Dalt and Santagar were first to arrive, then came House Toland of Ghost Hill accompanied by Houses Allyrion and Gargalen. The rest of the Dornish noble houses were bound to respond to Doran’s call, none would refuse to defend their princess. 

Oberyn observed as the green checkered coat of arms of House Jordayne filtered into the sea of countless banners that filled the Sunspear skyline. The city bustled with the clank of swords, shields and spears. Oberyn stood on his balcony, white-knuckling the stone balustrade. His mind, now given a singular task, felt sharp and ready, yet still turbulent with worry. 

There hadn’t been a single word from King’s Landing, no letter of demands or ransom. Not a peep. Lord Varys claimed that all contact he had with his remaining birds was cut after they last informed him that the Mad Queen had ordered that all ravens be put to the knife. 

They couldn’t send word and were left to pray for news, any news.

‘Uncle.’ 

With a heavy sigh, Oberyn turned to find Arianne at the entrance to the balcony. She had replaced her usual orange and peach daring dresses to darker hues of green and blue. Her face was marred by a constant scowl and one could see that she too felt deeply troubled by the abduction of her dear aunt and her new sister. 

‘They are gathering in the throne room,’ she informed him, taking a step towards him and standing at his side at the balustrade. She watched as the newly arrived forces of House Jordayne settled amidst the bazaars and limestone houses. ‘It’s happening much faster than I expected.’

‘I feel so, too.’ Oberyn lowered his eyes to his hands, instantly relaxing his grip on the stone. ‘But I also did not expect for Y/N to be… it is better for us to not waste any time.’ He gulped down the pain of missing her. ‘I once told her that I did not want her anywhere near that hell hole. And now she’s trapped there. I wonder if I was ever any good at keeping my promises and protecting her.’

Arianne grasped her uncle’s shoulder. ‘You shall not help her if you despair! We do not know if she and Myrcella are alright, but what will not be useful to them is if we stand here and pity them.’

Oberyn stared at his niece, silently admiring her strength. She has always been strong, but whenever she showed it, Oberyn was reminded why she was one of his favourite relatives. ‘You are correct again.’

‘Indeed I am,’ Arianne smiled encouragingly. ‘Come. We need to hasten if we are to join the meeting. You will be surprised at some of the newest arrivals.’

Uncle and niece speedily descended the stairs to the throne room which hadn’t seen that many visitors in years. The heads of the houses that had arrived were there with their aid-de-camps and advisors, first and second sons and daughters, knights. A room full of great warriors, proudly displaying their house colours. 

A long table was positioned in front of the breathtakingly beautiful throne of Dorne where Doran sat patiently. Daenerys Stormborn was standing on his left side with her own advisers beside her. 

Several heads turned towards to Oberyn and Arianne once they appeared at the throne room entrance. Out of the crowd, a familiar mop of jet black curls made its way through the gathered Jordayne representatives. 

‘Uncle!’ Quentyn Martell walked up to Oberyn who stared at him in disbelief, but promptly embraced him. If Quentyn was here then…

‘Hello, Papa!’ Tyene popped up behind her cousin who moved out of the way, allowing the younger girl to not waste a moment longer and to rush into her father’s open arms. Oberyn did not mind showing affection in front of foreign visitors. For all he cared Dornish customs of familial love were much better and more open than the frigidity of the Northerners.

Oberyn looked above Tyene’s golden locks and smiled at the sight of his two eldest daughters, Obara and Nymeria. Both donned ochre travel cloaks and head wraps that were slumped over their shoulders. Their long dark braids were messy and dusted with light sand. Both looked equally upset as the rest of their family. 

‘We rode out immediately after receiving Mama’s first letter,’ Obara quietly explained as they walked up to the right side of the table. ‘We had reached The Tor when uncle’s raven explained that she’d been… Quentyn got Myria to gather her father’s soldiers and march with us here.’

Oberyn looked at his nephew. ‘I’m happy you came.’

‘Pfff,’ Quentyn waved his hand dismissively. ‘The whores from Starfell to Yronwood will weep at my absence, but my place is here right now. There isn’t a person in Dorne who would stand down where auntie’s wellbeing is concerned.’

Oberyn nodded. His throat seized up painfully as he fought back the strong emotion that overcame him at his nephew’s words. He only wished Y/N was there to hear them, too. After she had come clean about the terrible thoughts that plagued that beautiful head of hers, to hear and see just how adored she was by not only her family, but all of Dorne… 

Once they stood beside Doran and Arianne, Oberyn let his eyes wander around those present at the table. He stared at the most peculiar sight of all: Sansa Stark and Jon Snow. 

The Stark siblings had arrived a few days ago on a ship from Dragonstone as per Daenerys’s request. Their thick leather clothes had made them stick out like sore thumbs amidst the liberated attires of the Dornish, plus they fared much worse in the weather since they were used to completely different temperatures. 

Yes, Sansa had spent many years in King’s Landing which had a forgiving climate (yet still colder than Dorne), whilst Jon Snow hadn’t been further south than the edges of the Stark lands. He seemed like a man who was used to the eerie quiet of the wilderness beyond the Wall, thick black eyebrows almost obscuring his eyes as they maintained a constant frown. 

Sansa, however, carried herself like a queen of the very ground she walked upon. Oberyn had hypothesised that it was due to being kept as Cersei’s pet for so long that she had now found power in herself that demanded respect from her peers. 

It seemed that she’d decided to adapt to the current climate, donning a long dark blue dress that matched Arianne’s and was most likely hers since the two had become somewhat friendly with each other. Jon Snow still wore his stifling leather waistcoat, looking just as uncomfortable as he did when he arrived. 

The war council began with the summation of forces they’d accumulated so far: three-thousand-five-hundred-and-fifty in total from Eastern Dorne with the promise of more joining as the word spread. 

‘I sent a raven to Lord Anders while we were at the Tor,’ Quentyn told the war council as he leaned over a rolled out map of Dorne. ‘He’s rounding up his own soldiers in Yronwood, some nine hundred horsemen, including an infantry of two hundred. He’s joined by Lord Harmen of Hellholt who has a cavalry of one thousand…’ He pointed to a landmark on the map, marked with the yellow-over-crimson flag of Ellaria’s father’s house. Quentyn drew a line with his forefinger from that to another mark on the map, a red flag with three black scorpions. House Qorgyle. ‘… And another five hundred are riding out from Sandstone. Lord Anders, Lord Harmen and Lord Quentyn are bound for Kingsgrave, they will cross the Prince’s Pass by Monday next and ride up to Highgarden to meet with Lord Willas Tyrell.’

‘Then I suppose they’ll take the Roseroad to the Capital,’ Jon Snow supplied and Quentyn nodded. ‘How long is the journey from Kingsgrave to Highgarden?’

Oberyn interjected, ‘A week at best if the weather is fine, most of their forces are on horse so they should be moving fast.’ He looked at Jon Snow, noting how despite the rumours that he and the Dragon Queen were intimate, he seemed to hang at a distance from her. And she wouldn’t hold his gaze for very long before turning her head away.

‘What of Houses Dayne, Fowler and Blackmont?’ Arianne asked. ‘They owe allegiance to our family. Lady Larra Blackmont has some of the best archers in all of the Seven Kingdoms.’

‘We’ve not yet received word back from either of those families, but they will stand with us,’ Quentyn told his older sister. The Dornish lords and knights present at the council meeting hummed in agreement. ‘Right now, Dorne’s forces number—’

‘—five-thousand-one-hundred-and-fifty,’ Oberyn added. ‘When Dayne, Fowler and Blackmont join, we will have some ten thousand soldiers. Just as many as last time.’ 

He looked at Daenerys who nodded in acknowledgment. Ten thousand Dornish soldiers were just as many as the ones that fought in Robert’s Rebellion. Dany, unlike her father, would not let them perish in vain.

Doran scratched his bearded chin, contemplating the given information. He trusted his Quentyn’s expertise; he’d sent him to Yronwood much to Mellario’s dolor — the core issue of that began to cripple their marriage — to learn how to be in command. And he showed great improvement which only gladdened an old father’s heart, even in times of war.

‘What of the North?’ Doran turned his eyes to Sansa and Jon. ‘You had reclaimed it from the Boltons, last I heard.’

‘Indeed, Your Highness.’ Lady Sansa nodded. ‘We’ve reestablished control over the North. We have the full support of the Vale and their own men.’

‘We should attack now then!’ One of the knights from Lemonwood boomed in his raspy, accented voice. ‘The Lannisters are outnumbered.’

Many agreed with him by means of nods and grunts of approval. 

‘There are no exact accounts of the number of Lannister soldiers in King’s Landing,’ Lord Varys spoke up softly. ‘We know that Cersei pulled her father’s remaining forces from Casterly Rock and its surrounding areas. She has Euron Greyjoy’s ships guarding Blackwater Bay.’

‘We do know, however, that she’s hired the entirety of the Golden Company,’ Tyrion supplemented. ‘Twenty-thousand men. Our remaining allies in Essos are instructed to offer them a higher price. But with or without the Company, Cersei has holed up herself in King’s Landing like a caged animal and she will lash out. Yes, an imminent attack is our end move, but we must avoid pushing her to commit another mass murder to save her own hide.’

Oberyn’s scowl deepened; Cersei Lannister was a cruel woman, he knew that ever since they first met in Casterly Rock as children. But knowing how time had altered that cruelty into something much more sinister, made him fear for Y/N’s wellbeing. Only thing he needed from this war was for them to set sail and return her home. Nothing mattered to him more than seeing her face, her warm, nurturing eyes gazing upon him with joy, and feeling her hands embrace his face as they kissed. 

‘I think we shouldn’t waste any more time,’ Jon huffed. ‘Winter has arrived and there are greater evils than Cersei Lannister that threaten our world.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Doran inquired.

Jon sighed solemnly, ‘The White Walkers, Your Highness.’ Everyone apart from Daenerys’s party began to murmur between themselves in alarm. The White Walkers were a caution tale for children in the North that wouldn’t go to bed, but for the Dornish it was less than a myth. For a people that had never seen snow, the idea of dead men rising amidst the icy deserts of the lands beyond the Wall was bordering impossible, even laughable. 

‘I have seen them with my own eyes and so have many of my men. We fought them at Hardhome. Their army is marching on the Wall. We have fortified our strongholds and watchtowers there, but it is merely saving time. We need to take King’s Landing. With the surrendered Lannister forces we stand a chance.’

‘It is much too early to make any sort of decisions about that,’ Daenerys commented with stoney look in Jon’s direction. He seemed almost shattered at her icy comportment towards him. Whatever had happened between the two of them? ‘I think waiting for an answer from Essos on the allegiance of the Golden Company would be a wiser move. That way we’d be sure that Cersei Lannister is indeed powerless against us.’

‘You have the support of every single House in the Seven Kingdoms including forces from beyond the Narrow Sea,’ Arianne raised her voice, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and annoyance. ‘Cersei has no one behind her apart from that madman Greyjoy. We outnumber them ten to one. And you still want to wait and think this through while my aunt and sister are being held prisoner by that bitch!’

Lord Tyrion began speaking for his Queen, trying to rationalise her words to no avail. Daenerys remained stoic, but there was something in her eyes — the way they flickered towards Jon Snow with something akin to fearful anticipation — told Oberyn that there was something they were not saying. 

He looked at his brother, the older man staring back. Oberyn hoped that his eyes could convey what he wished to say. Thankfully, Doran had always been so perceptive. He might’ve been confused at his brother’s mute request, but he never gave him a reason to doubt him.

‘My lords,’ Doran turned his attention to his liegemen. ‘Thank you very much for your time. Please, retire to your chambers and rest from the journey. We will converge again once we have more information.’

The large group of knights and nobility seemed confused at the sudden dismissal from Doran, but none fought against it. They were indeed very tired from the long road and many wished to eat and bathe. 

‘Father, if you’ll permit me,’ Quentyn said, ‘I need wash myself of the journey and see mama.’

‘Of course,’ Doran nodded and watched as his second son joined the departing backs of his liegemen out of the throne room. 

Once the room was clear, leaving only the Martell family and Daenerys’s side, Doran sat back in the throne, eyeing Sansa and Jon.

‘Lady Stark, if my memory does not fail me, your family’s rule was that there must always be a Stark in Winterfell.’

‘My… younger sister and brother are there, Your Highness.’ Sansa’s eyes fleeted to her bastard brother.

‘It’s odd, you see... your brother here has been proclaimed King in the North and your bannermen have put their trust in you as Lady of Winterfell. Leaving your younger siblings to guard an important castle in the North when there are threats coming both from the south and beyond the Wall… it seems imprudent, if you ask me.’ Doran’s dark eyes, followed each member of Daenerys’s group. ‘There is something more pressing, which would explain Her Grace’s sudden reluctance to attack.’

Give it to Doran to know how to extract information with the least amount of force, Oberyn thought as he observed how the expressions on the Dragon Queen’s face changed by the second. Jon Snow looked severely uncomfortable, like he genuinely distasted being the one in full attention. Sansa Stark maintained her stoicism, but her attention was now focused on the Queen.

‘We have reasons to believe that there is another who has valid claims to the Iron Throne,’ Sansa said. ‘While my brother was travelling to Dragonstone, one of his former brothers of the Watch came to Winterfell and informed me that during his stay at the Citadel, he discovered a document showing my brother’s true parentage…’

Jon stared at his sister as if he really did want her to keep that information to herself. ‘Sansa—‘

‘Jon is the son of my aunt Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen.’ She looked back at him. ‘They deserve to know, if we are to be allies. It is a stain on father’s memory to break with honour.’

Doran and Oberyn were equally shocked. To be reminded of their sister’s husband who was the reason she was trapped in the Capital with Mad King Aerys, was a strike to the heart. It pained them both and Doran lost his sure footing in the conversation, his mouth going dry. Guilt and anguish filled his heart as the memories of sweet Elia flooded his mind. 

Oberyn had to force himself to gain control over his breathing. He had to remain level-headed, had to do be what his dove always was for him. She was the reasonable one, without her Oberyn had to find it in himself to keep his wits about him and not turn to violence. But that only worsened the pain in his heart at the lack of her gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him away from the darkness in his own mind. 

‘How is this possible?’ Oberyn asked through tight lips. 

‘Your Highness, if I may—’ an older man stepped forward, moving to stand on Jon Snow’s right side. He was dressed in simple dark grey cloak that matched his greying hair and beard, but his eyes were lively.

‘Who might you be, sir?’ Arianne asked tensely.

‘Ser Davos of House Seaworthy… it’s a rather new house, please don’t bother checking, M’lady.’ He bowed his head to Arianne whose lips twitched in a little smile at his politeness. ‘Truth is… that the document said that Rhaegar secretly married Lyanna, which makes Jon Snow a Snow no more. He is a legitimate heir to the Targaryen name.’

‘Putting him above me in the line of succession.’ Daenerys’s words were clipped and tense like her throat was constricting, limiting the strength in her voice. 

Oberyn breathed heavily through his nose. ‘You are gambling with my wife’s life… because of that? You would leave her to Cersei’s mercy just so you can buy yourself more time and figure out who get the Throne?’

‘Your Highness, I do want to help you get Princess Y/N back—’

‘— then you wouldn’t have lied about all this,’ Oberyn interrupted her, his tone growing in intensity. ‘There are so many lives that we are putting at risk here. Including the life of the one I love, the mother of my children. Your pride can wait at the fucking door.’

Oberyn didn’t wait to see and hear everybody’s reactions to his statement, he was much too angry to give them any thought. They’d wasted a month already; four weeks that he could’ve used to get on the first ship to King’s Landing and rescue Y/N by his damned self. Even if it put his own life in extreme danger.

His beloved was trapped in that hell of a city, like his sister was. Was Cersei mistreating her? Was she being starved, or beaten, or worse? Oberyn shivered at the terrifying thoughts. No, Oberyn had to keep his promise to himself, to Y/N and to their children, that he was going to bring her home.

‘Dany!’ Jon ran after Daenerys after the meeting had failed dramatically. ‘Dany, please. Talk to me!’

‘What is there to talk about?’ Daenerys turned abruptly, the train of her gown swishing around her legs. Her eyes were brimming with angry tears that she tried to blink away. She couldn’t cry in front of him, it felt undignified. ‘They are right, you are the rightful heir.’

‘I told you many times already that I do not care for the Throne’ Jon walked up to her. 

He wished he could take her in his arms and hold her. He wanted her to believe him, he did not wish for what was indeed rightfully his by birthright. He had not desire for it. 

‘I am the bastard son of a lord. I’ve lived my life with this as my true fate. Not the Iron Throne, certainly no being king of the Seven bloody Kingdoms.’

‘What you feel and what the truth is are two completely different things.’ Daenerys turned her face away, not feeling brave enough to be looking into those deep, brown eyes that resembled a wounded puppy’s. ‘You cannot argue with facts. Everyone in the Kingdoms will use them against me.’

‘They will not,’ Jon cupped her cheek and turned her face towards his. ‘They have already seen that you are a reliable ruler. You are a liberator, for gods’ sake! Can any other King or Queen boasts with such accomplishment?’

Dany shook her head, pulling away form Jon’s warm touch. ‘It will not matter. You’re a male heir. The Great Houses will choose you over me.’

Jon pondered over her words. ‘I give it up then.’

‘Jon, it’s not as simple to—’ 

‘It is simple. I give up any claim to the throne. And if anyone protests, I will relinquish my claim publicly,’ he promised. ‘I wasn’t raised for this. Yes, my mother and father… they were who they were, but it changes not who I am. I am Jon Snow, former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, King in the North.’ He took her face in his hands again and this time Daenerys let him. ‘I am loyal to you. Not only because I love you, but because I believe in you. You are the right person to take the Throne.’

Dany’s eyes search for anything that would suggest that Jon was being untruthful, but she knew very well that dishonesty was not in Jon’s nature.

‘Do you not crave power?’ She asked warily. ‘To be King of the Seven Kingdoms? Protector of the Realm? All that?’

Jon chuckled under his breath, ‘I can barely handle being King in the North. No, I’ve always strived for peace in our land. No wars, or famines. Westeros as we dreamt of it as children. I can do this without being Rhaegar Targaryen’s son.’ His thumb stroked over Daenerys’s cheek, gathering the tiny tears that began to fall from her eyes. ‘I have bent the knee to you and no one else. And if you still want me at your side after we’ve vanquished all our enemies… I will swear before the Old Gods and the New that I am yours and you are mine. From this day, until the end of my days.’

Dany sobbed and threw her arms around Jon’s shoulders. He wrapped his around the small of her back, pulling her towards his chest, like he’d wanted to do since they arrived to Sunspear. The scent of oranges tickled his nose and he buried his face in the crook of Dany’s shoulder, relishing the perfumed oil she wore.

‘We need to stop caring for what our parents did or said. Their decisions were their own, but they do not define us.’ Jon said once the two parted. ‘Now, we need to decide if we attack, because I worry that we’ve upset our hosts more than enough.’

Dany hummed in agreement. ‘I really do want to help Prince Oberyn get his wife back. I grew to like and respect her in the little time I knew her. And we cannot let her suffer at the hands of a monster like Cersei Lannister.’

‘Alright,’ Jon nodded. ‘The sooner we take the Capital, the better. The Night King is still beyond the Wall, but we cannot be sure if the Wall will keep him out of our lands. We need to stabilise the Kingdoms in order to defend them.’

‘You will hear no argument from me,’ Dany said. ‘I must find Prince Oberyn and apologise. There can’t be bad blood between allies and I gave him my word that I would help in rescuing his wife and niece.’

‘I will come with you.’ Just as Jon said that, a young maid rushed towards them, cursing quickly and apologising for the interruption. ‘Is anything the matter.’

‘A letter has arrived, from the Capital. From the Princess,’ the maid clarified. ‘You are expected in the library.

The letter had arrived via raven, perhaps the last remaining raven in King’s Landing. The bird looked severely malnourished so Arianne had Jenne take it to the palace ravener to be given the care it sure.

Oberyn held the scroll in trembling fingers as he read it aloud in a tense voice. 

Dear husband,

I am happy and well in the Capital. Her Grace, Queen Cersei has been most kind to me. Despite my unexpected arrival, I have been welcomed. However, the Queen is most unhappy that our family is harbouring a dangerous individual such as the impostor queen Daenerys Stormborn. I share her sentiment. I beg of you that you rethink this alliance as it is hurting peace in the Kingdoms. Surrender the impostor queen, bend the knee to Her Grace, Queen Cersei and she will forgive our house the mistake. 

Please, take care of my plants and be aware that the gladiolus is scarce, it will not survive a hail. 

I love you and miss you dearly, my viper.

Your faithful wife

Oberyn held back not to crumple the piece of paper in his hands as it was the first contact he’d received from his beloved in weeks. He noted a spot on the paper where the swirl of the “o” in love was smudged by a droplet of water falling on the wet ink. She’d been crying when writing that she missed him. Oberyn’s heart felt like a ball of lead that laid heavy in his chest.

‘—she’s been obviously forced to write that.’ Sansa’s voice came through and Oberyn realised that he’d been clutching the piece of paper for a few moments longer than he should’ve. Nobody protested; Arianne came up to him to place a reassuring hand on his arm and gently pry the scroll from his hands.

‘What would’ve that costed her?’ She asked Lady Stark.

‘It would’ve costed her more not to follow instructions,’ Sansa sombrely explained. ‘This was her better option. Cersei uses this as a form of punishment. Your compliance gets you out for a little while. She was most likely threatened with beatings or starvation for this piece of paper.’

Oberyn’s breath hitched in his throat and anger filled his bloodstream. The thought of anyone laying hands on his dove… 

Sansa turned to him and spoke with a much tender voice. ‘Don’t worry. Cersei may be evil, but she must understand that your wife is a bargaining chip. These words are hers and not her Princess’s.’

‘Is there no mention of Myrcella at all?’ Arianne looked through the letter again. ‘Trystane will be sorely disappointed. He hasn’t been able to sleep, the maester has had to give him milk of the poppy to relax him. I fear he might take a ship and invade King’s Landing by himself.’

‘I would do the same,’ Oberyn murmured. He went over the words in the letter in his head over, and over, and over again. He knew the letter was a fabrication, words that have been forced out of Y/N’s hand and do not reflect reality.

‘These words at the end are hers, though.’ Sansa was handed the letter and she ran her finger across the final three lines. ‘The bit about the plants is most peculiar. Is she a gardener?’

The plants. What was the plant she referred to in her letter? Gladiolus? 

Oberyn stared at the piece of paper in astonishment. He took it out of Sansa’s grasp and read through the line about the plants again and again. Until it clicked.

Oh, my dove. My genius dove.

‘It’s a code,’ he sighed. ‘She’d brilliant. It would’ve escaped my notice, but I remembered she does not grow gladiolus. The soil was not right for it.’ 

‘How do you know?’ Ser Davos asked from the chair next to his lord.

Oberyn grinned, ‘I know every single plant my wife has planted, here and in the Water Gardens. I’ve helped her plant some of them. She doesn’t grow this particular one.’

‘Alright, but what does this gladiolus plant mean?’ Jon Snow questioned. 

Oberyn looked around the library. There was a book somewhere that Y/N had brought with her from Silverwood castle when they were betrothed. A book on the symbolisms of plants. She used it to give the bouquets she gave to people whom she loved a deeper meaning. Rosemary was remembrance, she gave it to Jenne when her father passed away. Geranium was happiness and friendship, she’d given a spray of it to her midwife, Miriam after the birth of Ellarion. But what would gladiolus mean?

Oberyn found the book on a nearby shelf, safely tucked away with other tomes on gardening and plant life. He turned the pages, looking for the plants with letter G. ‘There it is,’ he said once he found the page with the plant’s description and symbolics. ‘Gladiolus symbolises strength of character and is given to gladiators in the fighting arenas in Essos after a victory, so it is also a plant that represents… warriors and soldiers.’

Arianne gasped almost inaudibly, ‘The gladiolus is scarce, it will not survive another hail.’ She repeated the line. ‘Cersei’s soldiers are few.’

‘Yes, but how many?’ Lord Tyrion noted, ‘We still need numbers.’

‘The hail is an attack on plant life. If she’s written that the gladiolus will not survive a hail, it means that Cersei’s forces are so diminished after everything that they will not win a swift attack.’ Oberyn stepped towards Daenerys and stared her down. ‘I don’t know what your intentions are right now. I’ve made my word to you and have accepted your claim to the throne... no one else’s. But if you don’t help me get to King’s Landing and rescue my wife, I will march my forces without you and do it myself.’

Daenerys nodded. She glanced at Jon and he point of view was clocked by Oberyn who felt that the two of them had resolved their differences. The way they looked at each other was changed, it resembled how Oberyn assumed was he and Y/N looked when they shared a glance. 

‘No more delays. We leave for Dragonstone and King’s Landing as soon as your army is ready. We leave for war.’

Next chapter

1. What are your thoughts on the moodboard/artwork for this story. Any interpretations? Predictions? Fears?;

2. We all know that Oberyn would be the type of husband that would take great care in learning every single hobby and interest of his partner’s. Our Dove/Viperess is a gardener so OF COURSE he’ll file down every bit of detail about plants that she’s every fucking said;

3. It’s hard to be a genius; I am actively rewriting the last three seasons of Game of Thrones. David and Dan wish they were me. 

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[mca-attack21]

Damsel in Distress part I

This is a two part Arthur Pendragon x Reader based on the season two episode four of the show. Enjoy! Also you can find more of my writing here: Masterlist

Merlin woke up to a feeling of foreboding. There was something in the air that made his stomach turn with dread. As he prepared to go wake his clotpole of a master, he tried to push this feeling out of the forefront of his mind. But even as he made it down to the kitchen there was this sense of apprehension in the air. He hoped that he would run into you somewhere in the halls and that you would be able to set his mind at ease. He however was not so fortunate.

Instead, he trudged onward, setting Arthur’s food down and opening his curtains before declaring a half-hearted, “Rise and Shine” before quickly gathering some of his clothes to be washed. Arthur didn’t even have time to come up with a jest before Merlin was out of the door. Merlin busied himself, quickly polishing Arthur’s armor and completing other daily chores. He mentally prepared himself to deal with the prince as returned to his door.

“Ah, there you are, I was beginning to think you were avoiding your duties. And what’s this?” he asked, watching as Merlin laid everything out, “You’re actually doing your job for once? Are you feeling alright?” Arthur joked.

His smile soon turned to a frown as Merlin ignored his comments. He shrugged it off and allowed Merlin to help him dress and put on his armor. While Arthur was looking over some papers on his table he noticed that Merlin had already made his bed and was starting to take the dishes from the table.

“Merlin, clearly something is upsetting you,” Arthur pointed out.

“It’s nothing sire, do you need anything else?” Merlin asked with his back against the door.

“No, that will be all,” Arthur dismissed, sending a concerned glance towards his friend as he exited.

Merlin took leave and went back to his chambers to help Gaius. He tried to occupy his mind, but nothing he did seemed to ease that burning pit in his stomach. Something had happened, was happening, or was about to happen, he could feel it.

Somewhat abruptly, he decided that he needed to see you. He went to seek out Morgana, as you were filling in for Gwen while she was taking care of her brother. He knew that wherever Morgana was, you wouldn’t be far away.

It was in his search that he saw a few of the knights rushing for an audience with the king. Something had happened. Merlin followed at a close distance and listened in.

“As you know Sire Morgana, her maid, and a few knights rode for a pilgrimage to her father’s grave early this morning. They were meant to be back by now, but there is no word or sign of them. That was until one of the patrols came across one of the knight’s horses. I am afraid something went wrong..”

“Send men out immediately. Arthur, you will lead the search, do whatever you must to bring her home,” the King ordered concerned for his young ward.

“Of course father,” Arthur answered before hastily making an exit. Merlin was right on his heels, and left to prepare their horses.

---

The mercenaries had both you and Morgana in a tent with a guard posted right outside the doors. The two of you had come up with a plan, it was risky at best. However you were both aware of the fact that the further away from Camelot you traveled, the less likely you were to ever see it again.

“Are you ready for this?” Morgana asked, preparing herself.

“As ready as I’ll ever be”

She was about to step forward when you grabbed her arm, “No matter what happens, I want you to take any opportunity you get. Don’t worry about me. Promise.”

“There is no way I’m leaving without you.”

“Morgana, you have to promise me. I cannot bear the risk otherwise.”

“I promise, but only as long as you promise me the same. We take any opportunity we get.”

With that, the plan was in motion. Morgana demanded that she be allowed to bathe and you both were escorted to the river by two of the men. You took the distraction of her undressing to manage to disarm one of the men and tossed Morgana the sword just in time for her to take out the other. The two of you started running back towards the castle, but there was another mercenary that intercepted you. Being as you were the one with the sword you opted to fight him, thankful for the many hours you had spent training with Arthur when you were younger. Morgana turned back to help you.

“Go, I will be right behind you!” you shouted, watching her hesitate, “Morgana go! Now!”

She turned and ran only looking back when she heard your scream in the distance. She quickly picked up her pace again and ran without looking back. She pushed through the aching in her muscles until she was faced with a crossbow aimed at her face. Relief filling her features as soon as she saw its holder.

“Where’s Y/n?” Arthur asked immediately.

Morgana merely shook her head and Arthur turned before his face could give him away. Merlin pushed down his own feelings and went to Morgana to make sure she was okay and offer her water and food. They set off immediately for the castle and soon came the reunion between Uther and Morgana. She begged him to send out another search party for you, after all you had saved her life.

“I am not going to waste the time and resources on a servant girl who has most likely already been executed as she provides no worth to the mercenaries without you,” he explained to Morgana. The words cut Arthur deeper than any sword ever had.

“Please, there is still a chance. Arthur?” she turned towards him hoping he would take her side.

“I’m sorry Morgana, father is right” Arthur managed before turning and exiting a very angry Merlin on his heels.

“How could you say that? How could you possibly agree with him after everything that you and Y/n have been through? I knew you were a clotpole, but this, this is unforgivable!” Merlin all but shouted.

“Merlin Shut Up!” Arthur raised his volume before regaining his composure as he entered his chambers, “Of course I don’t agree with father, but there was no point in making a scene about it. We will pack and leave at first light. We will find her, one way or another.”

Merlin was speechless for a moment, before uttering an apology for overreacting before. He was then quick to leave and make the preparations for the next day as it was already early night.

The next morning he was surprised to see that Arthur had managed to not only wake himself up, but dress himself. He was looking over maps as Merlin entered. Soon the two of them were off on their quest to save the damsel in distress. The rode for the better part of the day before coming to a caves that were inhabited by wilddeoren. As they made it through the other side Arthur let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding, “I can’t believe the Gaia berries actually worked.”

“Hold up, you mean to tell me that you didn’t know that they would work before you lead us in a cave with giant flesh eating rats!”

“I mean not for sure, I heard stories, but I figured we’d find out one way or another.”

“Now you tell me?! Oh! Oh, what's that wilddeoren eating? It's all right. It's just Merlin. You trying to get us both killed?”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't've risked your life like that,” Arthur said a new hint of seriousness in his voice.

“I didn’t realize that even the great Arthur Pendragon could fall victim to the blindness of love,” Merlin joked.

“What in the world are you going on about?

“Your feelings for Y/n. Why can’t you admit that you like her? I mean you are risking your life and even your father’s wrath just for a one in a hundred chance of rescuing her.

Arthur scoffed rolling his eyes, “She is just a friend, I’d do the same for you. In fact I seem to remember disobeying my father before in order to get you an antidote when you decided to get a few days off my drinking out of a poisoned chalice.”

“That was different and you know it. Besides, anyone who has ever seen the two of you together can pick up on it. Why is it so hard to admit you like her? It’s only me, just say it,” Merlin encouraged.

“I can't! How can I admit that I think about her all the time. Or that...I care about her more than anyone. How can I admit that...I don't know what I'll do if any harm comes to her?” Arthur confessed struggling to keep his emotion in check.

“Why can't you?”

“Because nothing can ever happen between us! To admit my feelings knowing that...hurts too much.”

“Who's to say nothing can happen?”

“My father won't let me rescue a servant. Do you honestly believe he'd let me marry one?”

“You want to marry Y/n?”

“No! I mean maybe someday...I...I don't know...Regardless, it's all talk, and that's all it can ever be.”

“When you're King, you can change that. If she feels the same way, she would wait for you.”

“I can't expect her to do that, it’s not fair to her. Besides, we don’t even know if she’s alive,” he said regretting the words even as they left his mouth because they caused his stomach to drop.

“I’m sure she’s fine Arthur. She knows that you’ll come for her and that hope will keep her alive.”

The words seemed to offer Arthur some comfort, “Come on. We've got a long trek ahead. Oh, and Merlin...if you dare tell anyone about this, I promise I will make your life a living hell.”

“You mean more than you do now?” Merlin joked, earning a playful smack from his friend.

[ellsbclls]

" wow... you look... you look amazing. " for peter please? i love love love ur writing btw!

NOTE: This... ended up so embarrassingly long... i don't even know what the word count is, but i can bet it's a good 20%-30% longer than the average blurb.

WARNINGS: cursing, quirky🤪 mentions of drug use, implied making out (but can be perceived as sex, dear god please don’t perceive it as sex though), and some good ol’ fashion stark!ready x peter parker banter

They say, "never meet your heroes." Well, Peter wished he had adhered to that warning before he ended up here — a lanky, overdressed thumb towering high above the roof of the Avenger's Compound.

A semi-annual assembly of New York City's finest heroes that had little to do with their civic duties, and much to do with their inhibitions, and just how much alcohol it would take to release them — but there was one glaring problem.

Peter didn't drink.

He never saw the allure, especially when it came at such a high risk. He'd convinced himself that he refrained for the sake of Aunt May, the only remaining part of his family who put her life on the line to ensure his safety and overall well-being — the Spider-Man reveal already took some getting used to, he didn't need to add drunken night expenditures to her overnight fretting. Yet, when Flash's 'End of the Year' party had been raided by the police, a small part of him found joy in knowing he needn't fear the police or their breathalyzer test, even if he was deemed Pussy Parker for the remainder of that summer.

Even if he wanted to instill some liquid courage into himself, he hadn't the basic courage to let himself be vulnerable like that, in front of all the adults that made up the Avengers. Mr.Stark had already commented on his only suit, and how small he looked as it swamped his form, and the entire altercation made him wish the roof would just open up and swallow him whole.

Bullies, you'd call them.

There they were, New York's finest Defender's, huddled around the Mastrangelo like it couldn't put their entire life savings to shame, hosting a rousing game of beer pong upon its marble exterior. Your father was lucky your mother was still in Milan, tying up loose ends on a new line of bullshit you didn't concern yourself with. You just counted the days until she returned home, and you could soak up every ounce of her nurturing presence.

God, did you miss her.

It’s not like your father wasn’t just as nurturing, competitively so, to a point were you almost felt smothered — but you were too alike. In spaces where you both held too stubborn, your mother was there to mediate, and with ceaseless barrages of dry humor came her firm, unwavering severity, proving her love with candid remarks instead of jesting quips.

“Oh, free intern!” He dragged you from your nostalgic supercut with your endearing nickname, coaxing a fierce glare from your hues. “Run down to that place on 7th street and get some beer? And not that Miller Coor’s Bud bullshit, the upper echelon on Sigma Delta Nu delicacies.”

Jesus Christ.

You had caught glimpses of his argument with Steve, complaining about how stupid it would be to pour anything top shelf into a red solo cup — blasphemous really — but you didn’t expect him to do anything more than concede.

"Father of the year, everybody." You clapped just above your head, prompting the remaining company to join you. "I think you're forgetting that I'm not twenty-one."

"First and foremost, I know I am," Tony counters your triumphant grin with a sarcastic one. "Which is how I know that your fake ID says 21."

"Stark, it's fine. I can grab the beer," You thanked God and her impeccable timing once Steve interrupted, settling himself between the two of you with outstretched palms. "I could use the fresh air anyway."

You mimicked Steve's stance, cocking your brows toward your father. "See? Problem solved. Now leave me alone."

Losing interest in the company exponentially, you started to retreat, but groaned once your father's voice pierced the air again. "Nuh-uh-uh, Rogers. Why? So you can go to the nearest GNC and snort a container of protein powder? I don't think so."

You retreat to the furthest recesses of your mind as Tony and Steve bicker back and forth about honesty and friendly competition. Steve wouldn't know how to bump a rail if the U.S Army assembled a thorough, interactive training course on it, and his age quadrupled the life expectancy of most snow-packed socialites. Yet, on the other hand, you were shocked that your father even knew what a GNC was — ultimately, you were riled from your thoughts by an irksome realization.

"Are you fucking- Why can't old man Jenkins do it?" you gestured wildly toward the enhanced super soldier in question, blind to the obvious offense scrawled across his features. You seldom took your opulent lineage for granted, but when situations such as these presented themself, a selfish corner of your mind wondered what it would be like to have a run-of-the mill, cheesy-pun equipped, golf short wearing father. "You'd rather risk your daughter's own safety, and the sanctity of her criminal record, for a stupid game of beer pong?"

Natasha's incredulous laughter chimed between your incessant back and forth, spurred by the uncanny resemblance you and your father shared between every aspect imaginable — your dry wit just so happened to be in the spotlight.

"Yes," He didn't bother to meet your glare, already familiar with its scorching beam against the side of his face "Yes I would."

Hues practically rolled into the back of your skull, exaggerating your every move to a thespian level to make it clear, to even the boniest of heads, that you didn't take pleasure in this task. You were so excited to finally unwind at this event — slam down the sugary mocktail your Uncle Thor always "forgot" to order virgin, dangle your feet over the shallow end of the pool, maybe even shoot a few low jests at Bucky if there wasn't a carnal gleam in his eyes.

Your thrilling plans were now put on hold just to support your father's mid-life crisis.

"I know, I know." He tried to repeat the name of the wine stop n’ shop, only for you to wave him off. He wasn’t wrong — you had been abusing your fake ID in that very stop n’ shop for years, though you’ve recently come to the conclusion that the cashier was far more interested in your chest than your credentials. "If I get arrested, I'm bring you down with me. I'll tell Business Insider that FRIDAY's just one, big elaborate ruse for the underground Fake ID business you have on the side. They'll eat it up like-"

"Love you, honey! I'll venmo you!" He butt in, sending you off with a wave of his fingers.

You flipped him off, shouting an earnest 'I love you' in return. There was no denying that you loved each other, some would even argue that he loved you more than he loved himself — you just chose to show it in your own, eccentric way.

Mere seconds into your newfound task, you stopped dead in your tracks. You could make out that bed of chestnut locks anywhere.

"Parker?" Swiftly surveying his frumpy attire, you struggled to stifle the upward tilt of your lips. Even as he stood uncomfortably before you, visibly seconds away from crawling out of his own skin, he still managed to be the sweet, endearing Peter you knew and loved. "God, I didn't even realize that was you."

You didn't have the heart to tell him that you caught one fleeting glimpse of him at the very beginning of the festivities and thought he was a part of the catering company, nor did you feel a need to disclose the snide remark you whispered into your father's ear about the miserable staff. There was no sense in kicking a dead horse while it was already down.

His gaze weighed heavy against your frame, though, bolstered by an overwhelming intensity that forced you to wonder if he could read your mind. Though, if you could tap into his thoughts, you'd be shocked to find a reflection of your own — bewilderment, adoration, the tell-tale signs of a burgeoning crush, and the myriad of excuses that disputed them.

He could only manage to stumble over his words, complimenting you with sentiments that could never amount to the emotions welling in his chest. "Wow... you look... you look amazing."

And you couldn't argue, not with the way you were pampered hours prior. Mercier had smothered your hair in this honey-infused serum that made your curls bounce to life with each step, and the custom Jacquemus silhouette you were sporting hugged every ample curve enticingly so. You felt like a million bucks, and you probably cost that much give or take, so why deny it?

Peter, on the other hand — Well, he was very lucky that he was so cute, and his jawline could probably cut Vision's infinity stone straight out of his skull. It almost made up for the tragic shape of his suit, and just how tragically out of place it was at this event.

"You look, um-" Softness tugged at the corner of your eyes as they crinkled dotingly. "You look very cute."

"That was a very convincing half-truth." He chuckled, a subtle pink hue blooming over the valleys of his cheeks."

"Oh, so a part of you knows you're cute." You teased, enjoying the way the pink hue grew deeper.

"Oh! Oh, no... No, I mean, kind of? On the scale of confident perspectives, I think-uh-cute... Cute is on the lower end? And you know what? My Aunt May-"

"Peter, you wanna get out of here?" You interrupted him, hoping to save him from all the words he had yet to stumble over. "And then immediately come back?"

"Yeah," He vigorously nodded his head, despite being equally as confused. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot."

"Come," You offered your hand, a small gesture the two of you have woven into your complicated relationship. 

You'd tend to straddle a very thin line between friendship and something more, reaping all the warm, tentative affections of newfound lovers without explicitly considering yourselves so. The both of you, for as brilliant as your merits show, continued to convince yourselves that the hand holding, the comfortable silences, the mornings plastered against each other's sides, were simply happenstance. Despite the increasing willingness of each encounter, you'd only ever chalk it up to chance. So when you offered your hand out to him, he took it in stride — because the two of you would indulge in every ounce of attention you could get your hands on, at least until one of you inevitably came to your senses and found someone worth your time.

Your fingers were firmly intertwined as you led him to the roof’s exit, tugging him down the staircase and through the vacant halls of the top floor just in time to catch the elevator. You found no reason to keep his hand hostage once you were inside, so you begrudgingly retracted yours. You swore you could hear a pitiful huff come from his side of the elevator, but you chalked it up to wishful thinking. 

Now it was just you and Peter, left to your own devices, and roughly ninety-two floors away from your destination. Just enough time to do what you were aching to do.

“Peter,” You murmured, and his gaze flickered to your own without a moment of hesitation, drenched in a hopeful haze you failed to decipher.

“Y/N?” He echoed, tilting his body toward your own.

“You look...” You paused, unsure of which word accurately portrayed your thoughts. ”insane.”

“I know.” He whined. You tried to stifle the giggle that bubbled at his hopeless demeanor, brows furrowed together as he squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders slumped impossible low.

“It’s a good thing you have such a charitable friend.” And you made light work of his suit jacket, the air suddenly rapt with a thick air of electricity as you worked the offending article off his shoulders, haphazardly tossing it on the ground. Protests formed on the tip of his tongue, but he opted to swallow them in return for your help, going slack when you ran your fingers through his meticulously gelled hair.

Though he embodied the vision of a suave, debonair socialite alarmingly well, with his carefully quaffed locks, nothing suited him as well as the pillowy, fawn tendrils that made up his soft curls. You needed them back, needed a reminder of your sweet, darling boy, and patience was never your strong suit. 

You wondered if he was in need of the same reminder, seeing as he’d let you manhandle him without so much as a hum of discontent.

All done. Only a few revisions, and he was a completely different boy. Clad in a crisp, white shirt, sans its horrifying grey counterpart, you rolled the sleeves up to his elbows and unbuttoned the top three discs. The fabric was taut against his impressive set of muscles, leaving little to the imagination with each sweeping roll of his arms. You’d pat yourself on the back, but you were too busy drooling all over your work.

“Is- Is this good?” He broke the silence with a tentative query, peering back at you through his lashes.

"Yeah,” You voice came out strangled at best, distracted by the flurry of butterflies ravaging your stomach. There was something about this moment — maybe it was the glint of tenderness ridding his gaze, or your tight proximity, or maybe it was fate, finally persuading you to topple over that dangerous line — but regardless, you decided it was now or never. “but there's still something missing," 

“My jacket?” He breathlessly queried. His eyes frantically searched your face, like he couldn’t settle on just one feature to admire.

“No, no...” You breathed back, cautiously inching closer, until there was only a sliver of space separating your chests. "You need to loosen up, Parker."

“And what- What do you suggest I do?” His gaze flickered down to your lips shamelessly, and returned just as quickly. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

“Good,” You sighed, your breath fanning over his lips before you greedily chased its warmth, kissing him with such feather-light pressure, it almost felt like a dream — a thrilling, delicate dream. You had to tear yourself from his lips before you delved even deeper, hoping to find a mirror image of your relief, your satisfaction, in his own features. However, before your eyes even fluttered open, his palms swept under the curve of your jaw, and coaxed your mouth back to his, instantly qualming any of your fears as you both melted into the exchange. He tasted of spearmint, and cherries, and something so intoxicatingly him that you could barely restrain yourself.

You wanted him, God, did you want him, and for the first time, someone wanted you just as much, without an ounce of greed to it — He wanted you for you.

The remaining seconds of the elevator ride were filled with fervent kisses, and wandering hands, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck while his bunched the silky fabric of your dress. It was all smitten, indulgent brushes of your lips until the elevator dinged, and the doors opened up to reveal the fashionably late, dynamic duo —Sam Wilson and James Buchanan Barnes.

Their expressions were nothing short of priceless, one complexion green while the other ran pale at the sight of your interwoven limbs. You tried to open your mouth before they could comment, but you were far too late, buried in a booming wall of—

"This is a public space! You are defiling a public space!"

"I can't do this— I'm gonna take the stairs."

Their voices weaved into a messy, irritated harmony of disbelief, managing to still complement each other despite their varying levels of urgency.

An idea, a selfish, evil idea, popped into your head, and you enacted it before you could even unravel yourself from Peter’s hold.

"You just reminded me, I was about to text you! My dad needs a couple cases of Yuengling.” You gestured for Peter to press on the “Open Door” button, and by the time he started clicking the prompt, you’d already fetched your wallet, fishing your card out for Sam. “They probably have some at the corner store, but he’ll throw up if he finds out he was drinking alcohol from the corner store, so you’re gonna have to walk down to that market on Seventh.” You could feel Peter’s perplexed gaze gnaw at your shoulder, but you persisted in your impish pursuits, shoving the AmEx into his hand. 

“Chop chop, lover boys!” You hastily snapped your fingers in his direction, and yelled just loud enough to make sure Bucky accompanied him, parsing their punishment out evenly. 

Served them right, encroaching on such a perfect moment. 

Bucky’s groan echoed through the stairwell, followed by a childish stomp of combat boots, and you were pleased enough to shoo Peter’s hand away, pressing the “Close Door” button.

Sometimes it was nice being Tony Stark’s daughter — less backtalk from the sovereign throne of comebackdom.

“I thought you said we were getting out of here.” His brows were pinched together, the most adorable little frown forming between them.

“Oh, we most certainly are,” You replied, pressing the button for your floor. You could tell that the pieces weren’t clicking all the way, and you proceeded to spell it out for him, dropping a chaste kiss to the spot just below his ear. “We’re gonna go to my room. And then we’re gonna go right back to the party when we’re done.”

“When we’re done?” He mused, voice wavering beneath the soft caress of your lips, scattering even more tentative kisses down the column of his neck.

“When we’re done.” You parroted back, meeting his downward gaze through your lashes.”I think you still have some loosening up to do.”

[bakugohoex]

congratulations on 1k oh my goodness!! may i please request jean with “it’s you, it’s always been you”? congrats again and keep up the good work💞

“it’s you, it’s always been you”

pairing: jean kirchstein x female reader

cw: mentions of blood, fluff

word count: ​1500+

a/n: thank you so much my lovely, and i hope you enjoyed this little oneshot

summary: in which after your own near death experience, jean realises that he needs you to know just how much he loves you

1k event masterlist

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

His fingers stayed firm in your blood coated hair, the way you were going in and out of consciousness. Waiting for death to arrive and take you away from the hell hole of the walls, “Y/n, come on, stay with me.” Jean’s voice felt like a distant memory as you finally dozed off in the back of the cart.

Jean eyed your frail body, you had been hit by a titan, plummeting you into the ground, just as it was about to eat you. Jean had killed it but the way it had held your nimble body, the way it squeezed you its hands ready to devour you made Jean sick. If he had been a couple seconds late you’d be fine, his love, his crush, his friend would disappear without a trace. Jean held you in his arms, feeling how you were still breathing on top of him. Blood from your head spilled out, and he knew you’d need stitches to help you out.

If it wasn’t such a public space with Eren and Mikasa sitting on the other side and Armin and Levi on horses. He would have cried, sobbed even into you, he wanted to but the feeling you’d see him vulnerable at the sight of your limp state would make you worry even more. “Jean is she doing okay?” Armin questioned from his horse, holding the light up to get a better view of you across Jean’s legs.

“She’s still breathing, just o…out.” He choked up at the last word, Armin gave a soft smile knowing not to ask anymore questions. Levi looked sternly at how Jean held you, how you had moved your horse to get the titan to follow you instead of your captain. You were a stupid brat for doing that, knowing he was going to have give you some sort of punishment for your ill actions.

Jean kept you firm, your head nestled between his arms as he whispered stuff into your ear, “If…if this is the only time I get to say this Y/n, then I love you and if…if I ever lost you I don’t know what I’d do.” He continued on with his confession of love, glad you were unaware of it all. Glad that once you got the proper help you needed within the walls you’d never remember this conversation.

Jean watched the doors open to Trost, in a matter of seconds a medic came and took your limp body, if Jean hadn’t known you were breathing he'd assume you were just another corpse ready to be buried. He went to follow the medic, needing to make sure you were safe, but Levi stopped him in a matter of seconds. “She’ll be fine, and we need to re-group.”

“But…yes sir.” Jean easily saw the glare Levi had given as he followed the group, he turned back to just see the glimpse of your scathed leg before you were taken away to a bed.

How could he attend a meeting to regroup and talk about the latest expedition when all he could think about was you. Were you being treated okay? Was there any damage? How long would you be immobilised for? He had stopped paying attention to the meeting, instead staring at the door, as soon as Hanje gave the signal he was going. He was going to find you, okay, with nothing wrong except a little bruising.

He’d see that sweet smile you’d give him with a coy remark, and he’d fall even more head over heels for you. Jean looked at the door with such intensity, Armin had noticed nudging him softly after Hanje had asked a question directed to him. “Sorry, what did you say?” He tried to be apologetic, but his mind was somewhere else.

“Jean we know you want to see her.” Hanje tried to give him a reassuring look as they looked at him with pleading eyes to explain what happened. He tried to do so but his mind couldn’t let him speak, Hanje gave a nod before dismissing him, “go and check on her.”

It was all Jean needed to hear as he ran out of the room, he needed to see you. Needed you to be okay, he rounded the corner meeting the eyes of the civilians of Trost who surrounded the dead. Jean hadn’t realised just how many men had died on this expedition; how many had risked their lives to rid the area of titans for good. It may have been a success after years of trying to gain land back, but the ability to now see the sea freely was evident.

He ignored the passer-bys, tears staining their cheeks as he saw the medic who had handled you with a mother. “Excuse me.” Jean may have been in a rush, but the medic clearly wasn’t, ignoring him, which made Jean even more annoyed. “Hello.” He tapped the man's shoulder which made him turn around to meet the tall boy.

“That girl you took, where is she?” The medic gave a confused look before nodding and bringing some papers out.

“She’s in the next room over.” Jean nodded and before the medic could even ask who he was, Jean was gone. He had seen the tortures of death around him, the families that cried for the fallen soldiers. He finally met the door that held you, he needed to see you, needed you to be alright. Needed to confess, he needed to make sure you were loved and protected.

He didn’t bother knocking on the door, instead brashly entering. He saw you face away looking out at the blue sky of Trost. With land regained and the lack of titans, Jean thought of the security you both could have here. “Y/n.” He spoke hesitantly.

You didn’t turn around still looking outside, he saw the bandage around your head. He didn’t know what to say, your back was facing him, and you might have been asleep for all he knew. Jean moved closer to you, before moving in front of your body. He took the seat that sat in front of your sleeping body, he could hear your breathing and knew you hadn’t had any critical damage. It was now the minor damage that worried him more.

“J..Jean.” You softly whispered, his hand had moved instinctively towards your hair, moving the strands away from your face as he looked at you with love.

“I’m here.” He cupped your face gently looking down at you as he moved away from the chair and on his knees. His face close enough to feel your breathing against him, “Y/n.”

“I’m sorry…I should’ve been looking whe…” Tears welled your eyes at how Jean looked at you, the way he had never expected an apology.

He caressed your face soothingly, “there’s nothing to apologise for, you tried to protect us all, I should be the one apologising…I only just made it to you.”

You moved your face further into Jean’s hands, he tilted his head to see you properly leaning against the small bed. “Thank you for saving me.”

“I’m always going to protect you.” He knew you had no minor problems, the bleeding stopped as you looked fresh and rejuvenated. “I was so worried about you.

“You were?”

“I was, I have to protect you because I’m in love with you.” He whispered the last part out, you had heard it all, even after he had promised himself to hide the confession. Here he was confessing to you of his love.

“I always thought you liked Mika…” He interrupts you with such ease.

Looking up into your eyes, the pools of warmth cascading from them, “It’s you, it’s always been you.” It was heaven to your ears, the sound of his love finally reaching your own. The way he always protectively stood by you, how his hand lingered against yours whenever you both stood together. The way that the love of your life, loved you back.

“I love you too Jean.” You whispered softly, meeting his lips that had been lingering against your own, it was passionate and sweet. Everything you had wanted from a first kiss; emotions ran through you as his hand caressed your cheek lovingly. His lips softly against your own as if they meshed together perfectly. It was a necessity more than a want now, the fact that the boy who had been your first love was now kissing you sent a bolt of electricity throughout you. You saw him give one final haste kiss before his mouth let go of your own still lingering close by as he knew you needed rest.

He stayed near you, his body leaning against the bed as his head was on the bed, his hand in one of your own as he looked up at you with such love. “I’ll always be here.”

“Pinkie promise.” You whispered through your tired state.

He looked down, shaking his head in amusement before nodding, “pinkie promise my love.”

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[drabbles-mc]

Take A Little Ride

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Request from @bishopslosawife​: What if one of the Mayans’ S/O was an NFR professional barrel rider from the south? Like S/O plans a trail ride for everyone to get them to relax and someone recognizes her and asks her to show off her moves? Maybe S/O has a horse boarding at the stable?

Warnings: language

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: (Sorry if this is the second time you’re seeing this fic! I’ve had some issues with posts disappearing from my blog and the tags and I’m trying to get everything back on track haha.) I know we talked about this fic forever ago, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since lol. We threw around a lot of ideas and I tried to fit as many into this fic as possible without it feeling cluttered. Also, I know this is technically an Angel fic, but we get to see a lot of our boys in this story. Hope you enjoy! xo

Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce​ @encounterthepast​ @helli4nthus​ @lilacyennefer​ @angelreyesgirl​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @starrynite7114​ @rosieposie0624​ @queenbeered​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @mijop​ @sadeyesgf​ @xladymacbethx​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @blessedboo​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @holl2712​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ @sesamepancakes​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @georgiaaintnopeach​  @plentyoffandoms @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @garbinge​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @enjoy-the-destruction​

“Oh come on,” you pleaded as you sat in Angel’s lap, “It would be so fun!”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Yea, for you maybe. I’d have no fuckin’ clue what to do.”

“It’s really not that hard,” you reassured him.

EZ sat down across from the two of you, “What is Angel fighting you about now?” he smirked.

You laughed, “I was saying that we should go for a trail ride sometime soon—all of us. It’s such a good way to unwind.”

“What’s the issue then?” he was clearly confused.

“She means a horseback trail ride, Boy Scout,” Angel piped in with a shake of his head before returning his gaze to you, “Anyone besides you and Taza even know how to ride?”

You paused, trying to think back on your conversations with everyone. Truthfully, now that he said it out loud, you couldn’t say for certain if any of the guys knew how to ride. You didn’t want to cop to that, but you weren’t a good liar, “I have no idea,” you chuckled, “I mean for some reason I wanna say that at one point Riz said something to me about it but I’m not sure. You guys could learn, though! It’s not like we’d be competing or anything, just a nice mellow trip. Like a hike! Besides, it’d be good for you boys to learn something new.”

“Y/N,” Angel started, “I’m not gonna fu—”

EZ cut him off, “I’m game,” he was genuinely interested, but he also loved being a little bit of an instigator when it came to things like this between you and Angel.

Your eyes lit up, “Yea?”

“Bro,” Angel shook his head, “What the fuck?”

“Put it to a vote!” you said excitedly, “That’s what y’all do, right?”

EZ laughed, nodding, “Yea, that’s exactly what we do.”

“What, we gonna go to Templo for this?” it was getting more and more difficult for Angel to keep a straight face.

“We’ll do it right here,” you leaned forward and grabbed your empty beer bottle off the table, rapping it on the wooden surface a few times to get everyone’s attention, “Hey! Boys! I have an offer for ya.”

If Angel had the ability to melt into the couch cushions, he would’ve. The guys could see the look on his face and it only made them more interested in what you were going to say. EZ was sitting back with a smug grin, extremely invested in where this was all going to go.

“What’s the offer?” Taza asked with a soft smile.

“So,” you got up off Angel’s lap, “I know y’all have had a rough couple of weeks. And I think it’d be good for everyone to get out and unwind,” they were all nodding along in agreement so far, “I just so happen to know of a really great ranch about forty minutes North of here. What would you guys say to a day trip and a trail ride? Switch things up a little.”

Taza’s response was immediate, “Sounds good to me.”

You could see the apprehension on some of their faces, so you tried to reassure them, “If you don’t know how to ride, they give you a rundown of the basics. Plus, the horses that they have there are all push-button—absolute gems.”

“How do you know about this place?” Bishop couldn’t help but to ask.

“I’ve been boarding my horse there since I moved to Cali,” you paused, “So, what d’you say?”

Sure enough, everyone started to speak up in agreement. You had never felt so excited. You looked back at Angel, who was shaking his head trying not to crack a smile. He had a feeling it was going to go this way.

“Majority vote,” Bishop said with a laugh, “It passes.”

“Yay!” you clapped, “Alright, I’ll call and get it all set up for this week. It’s gonna be so much fun, trust me.”

As the week passed by, Angel and a few of the other guys asked you questions about just what exactly they had gotten themselves into. They all knew that you rode, but they never thought it would have any crossover with their lives.

You all met up at the clubhouse late Saturday morning. You had your jeans and boots on, along with a tank top. You’d packed a backpack with water bottles and a few snacks, as well as your riding helmet. There was a palpable sense of excitement in the air, along with nervousness.

“You guys might not wanna take the bikes,” you warned with a laugh, “Your legs might be a little sore afterwards.”

They all stood and thought about it for a moment before deciding to take your word for it. They split up and piled into the few trucks they had, allowing you to lead the way since none of them knew where you were going. It was one of the very few times that Angel ever rode shotgun and let you take the wheel. You’d seen EZ crack a smile as his brother begrudgingly handed you the keys.

You rolled into your parking spot at the ranch, instantly jumping out of the truck once it was in park. The rest of the guys weren’t far behind, their vehicles falling into line with yours. You waited for them all and then waved for them to follow you as you confidently strode across the grounds to the barns. A few of the other people there smiled and waved to you, recognizing you from your frequent trips there.

The man who ran the ranch came out of one of the barns, arms out wide as he approached you, “Y/N, so good to see you,” he gave you a hug, “I was excited when they told me about your call.”

“Who’s this fuckin’ guy?” Angel murmured to EZ under his breath, elbowing him when he saw his brother trying to bite back a laugh.

You hadn’t heard the exchange, but you turned around to introduce everyone regardless, “Boys, this is Matthew—owner of this fine establishment and also one of the first people to help me settle in when I moved here to California. Matthew, this is my crew,” you laughed, “Best group of troublemakers you’ll ever meet.”

He laughed, nodding in acknowledgment, “Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure. I’m here to help and get you guys up and running, but you’re in good hands with Y/N here. She knows the trails out here like the back of her hand.”

“Well,” you chuckled, “I wasn’t gonna say it, but he’s totally right,” you clapped, “Let’s get you boys all saddled up and ready to go!”

It was refreshing to see them a little out of their element, with the exception of Taza, and surprisingly enough Coco seemed rather comfortable in the barn. You didn’t comment on it, wanting to see just how much he knew. But so far he had gotten all his tack on without much of an issue, and he seemed really comfortable with the horse they had provided for him.

You went back and forth with the guys about wearing helmets. Angel was adamant that he would be fine without one, “You’re not even gonna wear one! Or Taza!”

You laughed, “And when you’ve clocked as many hours as we have, you won’t have to wear one either. But for now, you’re gonna have to. Deal with it.”

“Yea,” EZ chuckled as he clipped his on, “Gotta save all the braincells that you can.”

“Shut up,” Angel shoved him as they both broke down in laughter.

Your horse was waiting patiently in her stall, all tacked up and ready to go. You were thankful that she was so mellow and patient, because you didn’t have to worry about her while you got everyone else situated. Up until that point, you had never realized just how diverse the ranch was when it came to breeds of horses. Most of them were rescues in some capacity, bought at auction when they weren’t competition or breeding material anymore, but they still made great companions, especially for beginners.

The fact that Taza let the boys struggle on their own a bit wasn’t lost on you. He was already perched atop his horse, waiting for the rest of them to get their acts together. You were certain that it was the most entertained that he had been in a while—you could see it in his eyes. To make up for the lack of Taza’s guidance, you were running around helping however you could.

“C’mon,” Coco taunted as he hoisted himself up onto his horse with ease, “What’s takin’ you guys so long?”

“Since when do you know anything about horses?” Angel said with a hint of bitterness to his voice.

“Psh, you don’t know everything about me, ‘mano. Don’t worry about it.”

Once everyone was on and ready to go, you finally went back to bring your own horse out. She was waiting patiently as ever in her stall. You slid the door open and stepped inside, gently resting your forehead against hers. It was exciting to be able to share this part of your life with all of them, even if it was going to be a little extra chaotic the first time around. You hoped, though, that they would enjoy it enough to want to come back and do it again. You thought that it would be good for them, because it certainly was for you.

You led your horse out of the barn, not that you really needed to be holding onto her reins anyway—she’d follow you wherever you went almost without question. You had her stop so you could slip your foot into your stirrup and hoist yourself onto her. The guys looked on in slight awe, not able to believe that it was so easy for someone of your height to climb up that easily onto a horse that was so tall.

Once you were situated in your stirrups and adjusted your backpack, you turned and looked around at your crew with a wide smile on your face, “Everyone feel like they sorta know what they’re doing? Matthew give you an overview of the basics?” there were various mumbled of agreement as they nodded their heads and you had to laugh, “You’ll be fine. Just remember, gentle on the reins—it’s attached to their mouths. Squeeze with your legs and nudge with your heels if you wanna go faster. These horses are super well trained so you shouldn’t need to kick, or be loud with them at all. Just use a clear voice,” you paused, “We should probably do a couple laps around the arena first before I take you guys off-roading,” you laughed, “Follow me.”

Admittedly, you were pretty impressed at how well the guys were picking it up. A lot of it had to do with the horses that they were riding, but still. It was the first time you could ever remember Bishop seeming out of his element and you had to admit that you found it amusing. Angel and Gilly found themselves struggling together while EZ practically rode laps around them, of course.

“Show-off,” Angel said with a laugh and a shake of his head as he shifted slightly in his saddle.

“You’re just mad because I’m already good,” EZ chuckled as he made his way over to where you and Taza were watching the rest of them.

Once you started making your way towards the trail, you and Coco found yourselves side by side. You glanced over at him and had to smile at how comfortable he seemed. For a man who seemed to be a little jumpy at baseline, he seemed really calm.

“I have to admit,” you said as you glanced back to make sure you didn’t lose anyone yet, “you surprised me a little bit with all of this,” you gestured to him and the horse.

He laughed, “Yea, I’m full of fuckin’ surprises.”

“You ride for a long time?”

He shrugged, “Not in a while. Started when I finished my four years. One of the guys who came back with me told me to try out equine therapy. Seemed kinda pointless but I really wasn’t in a position to be sayin’ no to anything—I was pretty fucked up. And it helped. Stopped when I started getting in with the club.”

You nodded, unable to hide how invested you were in everything that he was telling you, “Got it. That why the guys didn’t know?”

“Yea. Plus, they don’t gotta know everything,” he chuckled.

The topic fell by the wayside as the group of you continued on your little adventure. It was peaceful, and it was nice to hear all of them laughing and joking around with each other. You felt like you were constantly turning around to make sure that you hadn’t lost track of anyone, but you really didn’t mind it. It was hard to not be a little amused at how out of sorts Angel still seemed. The downside of being as tall and lanky as he was, is that it’s impossible to miss when he is feeling uncomfortable or out of his comfort zone. It was written all over his body language.

You looped around so you could land yourself next to him. You smiled over at him as he focused intensely on his reins, “Still getting the hang of it?”

“You guys make it look so easy.”

You laughed, “We’ve got years of practice. You’ll pick it up.”

“Gilly wants to know why he’s the only one that didn’t get a horse,” Angel laughed.

You chuckled and shook your head, “Mules are great, he’s got nothing to complain about. They’re strong, and smart, and a little stubborn but that’s just like the rest of you guys so it should be fine.”

“I know I’m not good at this shit,” he shifted slightly in his saddle, “and I dunno if I ever will be. But it’s nice to see you enjoying yourself like this. I don’t think I’ve ever really seen you like this.”

You smiled, feeling your face get warm, “Well, now you know,” you paused, laughing, “Plus I think this is one of the only times that I’ve been better than you at something.”

“Couldn’t let it be a sweet moment, could you?”

You chuckled, “Is this how you feel all the time with me?”

“I’m not better than you at everything, querida. Stop bein’ dramatic,” he smiled.

“Cooking and horseback riding are the two things I definitely have over you. And I’m holding onto those for dear life,” you laughed.

“I’ll let you have them. Just for you, I promise I won’t get any better at this.”

“For me?” you pressed a hand to your chest with a smile, “You’re too sweet.”

You nudged your horse onward so you could get back to the front of the pack. You’d ridden the trails hundreds of times but they never got any less beautiful. They were different than where you used to ride back home but the change was nice. The trail that you had taken them on was one of the easier ones—no crazy inclines or anything like that. It was a slow but steady ride up one of the smaller peaks that surrounded the ranch. The view from the top was beautiful—you could see for miles. You had a feeling that the guys were going to love it.

“We’re almost to the top,” you called back over your shoulder.

Within a few minutes, the whole group of you had made it to the clearing at the top of the peak. They were all letting out their own murmurs of approval and you felt so proud of yourself. A few of them hopped down, wanting to get a little closer to the cliff edge so they could look down over it. There was nothing but the sound of the breeze and the screaming of the birds while you all stayed there and took in the view. It was the most peace that they’d probably felt in a while.

“Pretty great, right?” you looked over at Angel, who had managed to guide his horse to they were right next to you.

He nodded, “Beautiful. Had no idea any of this was out here.”

“This is what I used to do with pretty much all of my free time when I first moved here, back before I really knew anyone.”

“You gave this shit up to hang out with us?” Angel chuckled as he gestured to the rest of the guys.

You laughed, shaking your head, “I didn’t give it up. I still come out here at least once every weekend, if not more during the week if work allows for it. I still make the time.”

“I love you,” he had a starry look in his eyes as he gazed over at you.

You smiled, “I love you too. Thanks for doing this—I know you weren’t really all that thrilled about it.”

“I’m glad I did. It’s nice to see something that means so much to you.”

After a few more minutes of lingering, chatting, and getting photos of everyone, it was time to complete the loop and head back towards the ranch. You were glad that the guys had pacified you and allowed you to do a little impromptu photoshoot of them with their horses—it was a moment that you wanted to remember. They were quite the diverse pack and you couldn’t help but to smile.

The ride back down was smooth. It was evident that for the most part, the guys were starting to feel more comfortable in their saddles. There weren’t as many, “oh fuck’s” said under their breath. There was a little more talking and joking going on and it made your heart feel fuller.

Cutting through the quietness of the trail was Angel’s voice, “Shit, fuck, oh fuck,” he wasn’t yelling but you could tell that he was worried.

You whipped your head around to see what was wrong, and you had to bite back your laughter as you watched the scene that was playing out. Angel’s horse had bumped up from a walk to a jog and clearly it wasn’t Angel’s doing. The panic that was on his face was priceless. Realistically, the horse wasn’t even going that fast, but it was enough to send Angel into panic mode.

“I’m just gonna fuckin’ jump off.”

You laughed, “Do not jump off. Just apply a little pressure to the reins and tell him to walk. He should slow right down. They don’t understand curse words.”

He did as you instructed, and sure enough the horse dropped right back down to a leisurely walk. You were trying not to laugh but the rest of the guys weren’t as kind and forgiving as you. You knew that that was going to be something that he wasn’t going to be living down anytime soon.

The rest of the descent was uneventful. The whole squad made it back down to the base of the trail unscathed. You hopped down off your horse and began to help all of them to do the same. You told them where to go and put all of their tack once they took it off, and also told them that if they could walk their horses for a couple minutes just to help cool them down it would be appreciated. It wasn’t the most intensive ride but it would still be good for them. Besides, it would be good for the guys and their legs too.

You were getting ready to bring your horse in when a girl came walking up to you, trying to politely get your attention. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. Her t-shirt and jeans were streaked with dirt but there was a giant smile on her face as she walked up to you and your horse.

“Hi, excuse me, are you Y/N?” her voice was quiet, shy.

You nodded, slightly confused, “I am. Everything alright?”

“Yea! I just, um, god sorry I don’t mean to be weird. I used to watch you race, though. I went to almost every NFR circuit event for a few years back when we still lived in Nevada. They said you moved but I had no idea it was here and I,” she stopped herself, “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

You shook your head, smiling, “Don’t be sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever had a fan before,” you laughed.

“Well that’s not true,” the girl laughed. She paused for a few moments, “Would it…would it be weird to ask if I could see you do a run?”

You raised your eyebrows, “A barrel run?”

She nodded excitedly, “Yea.”

You laughed, “I mean, I don’t see why not. I’m a little out of practice but I think we can still manage it,” you patted your horse on the shoulder.

“Oh my god this is so cool. The big arena inside is already set up—I just finished my lesson.”

The two of you walked together, your horse following behind without you having to hold too tightly on the reins. You listened to her gush and talk about riding and it made you miss what it felt like to be training for competitions. You didn’t regret stepping back from it to live the life that you have now, but there was nothing quite like that rush of adrenaline.

The guys had heard the entire interaction and all of them had since gotten their own horses situated so they could come and see what was about to happen. EZ and Angel were leaning against the side of the arena, their voices carrying in the echo chamber it created.

“You know she used to compete?” EZ asked as he watched you hop back up onto your horse.

“Yea, I mean, she mentioned it,” Angle replied, “Didn’t know that she was a fuckin’ celebrity, though.”

“Paparazzi is gonna show up any minute,” Bishop materialized next to them, chiming in with a laugh.

You settled into your saddle, getting both you and your horse positioned so that you could start your run. You could tell that she felt the shift in energy as the two of you stood at the entrance to the arena. You could feel her starting to get a little antsy, a little wound up. It had been a long time since you ran the pattern, but you had no doubt that it would be like riding a bike for the two of you.

As soon as you nudged her with the heel of your boot, your horse took off. You couldn’t stop the laughter that erupted out of you as she flew around the first barrel, gliding seamlessly into the turn. You could faintly hear the guys from the sideline over the sound of the wind in your ears. You felt your hat fly off your head and you didn’t even care. You’d almost forgotten how fun it was to neck-rein at that high of a speed.

You looped around the second barrel, and the third, and your horse all but flew down the center of the pattern as she ran out of the arena. You sat back in your saddle, trying to get her to slow down but you didn’t really want her to. It had to have felt just as good for her as it did for you—the two of you hadn’t done more than a light canter in a while and she was clearly itching to get out some pent-up energy.

Finally she slowed to a walk as you turned her around to head back towards the arena. The young girl came running out of the building with a huge smile on her face, your hat hanging from her fingertips.

“That was so cool!” she handed your hat back to you.

You hopped down off your horse with a smile, “That was the most fun I’ve had in a while, I can’t lie,” you laughed, “I’m glad you asked us to run it—that felt amazing.”

“Do you board here?” she looked at you expectantly.

You nodded, “I sure do. Here every weekend, pretty much. Not that we’re really training to compete anymore, but you know.”

“If we’re ever here at the same time do you think that you could give me some pointers?”

You nodded, feeling your heart swell inside your chest, “Absolutely.”

“Yes! Oh that’s so awesome. Thank you so much. I’ll, um, I’ll let you get back to your friends. But thank you so much.”

You smiled, “Of course. I’ll see you around.”

She bounded off, an excited spring to her step. You chuckled and shook your head as you started to lead your horse back to the barn so you could take off her saddle and bridle. As the two of you meandered, Angel and the guys all came out of the arena, looks of surprise all over their faces.

“What the fuck was that, querida?” Angel laughed as he shook his head in disbelief.

“What?” you feigned ignorance.

“When were we gonna find out that you know how to do all that?” EZ piped up.

“I told you guys that I ride!”

“That,” Angel threw his arm around your shoulder, “was not just riding. That was insane! You guys were fucking flying.”

“Shoulda seen how fast we could go when we were actually training for it.”

“Also, didn’t know that you were apparently a celebrity,” there was a smirk on his face as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

You laughed and shook your head, “Not a celebrity. The horse world is a small one.”

“You gonna be able to teach us how to do all that?” EZ asked with a laugh.

“Not a fucking chance,” you smiled over at him, “But you guys are more than welcome to come here with me any time.”

“Well now we definitely have to,” Angel said, “Gotta see what other moves you’re holding out on.”

“Oh,” you laughed, “you’ll see. Don’t worry.”

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Hi hi! I saw your post asking for request/inspiration! Maybe Geralt x fem reader, and geralt has to hunt down a monster but the reader as well, so first they try to outsmart the other but eventually they realize they have to work together and they end up falling for each other? ❤️❤️

Bound By Blood - Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader - Part 1

side note- I have no self control and just kept writing so we’re gonna have a pt. 2 soon

Summary: Geralt has learned of a mysterious witch and her supposed vicious familiar, now he must hunt to bring them down for their crimes.

Warning: blood & gore, angst, bit o fluff, some smut sprinkled in the mix

It had been a good couple of weeks since his last kill, or since he had a solid amount of coin that could pay for food and board. So like any Witcher with a freshly sharpened sword and a thirst for coin with a little adventure included, Geralt was on the move, in search of his next monster to slay.

Though by the looks of it, the continent is starting to feel like a much larger place then he remembered, or perhaps he’s out in the wilds a bit further then once previously thought. Either way, the day is bright and the woods are green, although the occasional snowflake floating into his hair and Roach’s for that matter may become an annoyance later on. Guess he’ll just have to see where the road takes him this time.

No sooner would his swimming thoughts of wondrous curiosity be answered after a couple hours of traveling through the now very snow covered forest, where he would happen upon a small gathering of road worn travelers. All of whom appeared to be speaking over a small fire, their horses tied off close by. And most likely, weapons hidden at the ready for odd folk like himself.

Roach’s hooves are almost silent against the powdery white fluff as Geralt makes his way into view of this pack of loyal companions trying to have a meal in the midst of their camp before nightfall. Soon their eyes find Roach and himself, these strangers look on in cautious apprehension, wary and uncertain of what this Witcher’s true intentions are.

Suddenly a young foxy looking boy stands, his thick auburn hair falling in his face as he points a shaky steel knife in the air, “What business you have? We don’t want a fight.” Speaks the boy as confidently as he can muster, though there is a small waver in his voice. The others wait for an answer.

Geralt blinks, face unassuming and as relatively non-threatening as possible, “I’m just passing through, I’m trying to see what beast needs killed over the next hill.”

The boy lowers his knife, “Oh...well, good luck to you then. There’s been a great bear said to be hunting for Nilfgaard soldiers over that way, that’s why we’re headed west instead.”

Before Geralt is able to respond an older woman with a wolf rug over her back steps next to the boy protectively, “Best keep a move on Witcher,” She warns, eyeing him up suspiciously with her pale grey eyes, “said a woman with...unnatural powers commands the beast to kill for her. A witch of the wood it’s said, but that old bastard she has, been killing villagers and travelers alike who venture too far from town.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Mutters Geralt before directing Roach to continue onward with a click of his tongue.

——

They had never seen you coming, and now they’re paying for their lack of scouting with their pathetic little lives. The soldiers of Nilfgaard were said to be the most deadly and dangerous, men who came with fire in their hearts and steel in their hands. They feared nothing and no one, dressed in black armor and growing in numbers from the south everyday was enough to make you feel sick.

They had no right nor proper business claiming and desecrating what wasn’t there’s, how dare they hurt innocent people, they acted like true barbarians. And you would not put up with it any longer, they had burned your home, murdered your mother, and destroyed the rest of your village.

So for their crimes, you decided it was time to do what was necessary for the continents future survival, it was time to hunt. For months have you and your furry companion been here and there eradicating soldier camp after soldier camp with great satisfaction, now finally at long last have you tracked down a group of Nilfgaardians who’ve strayed too far from the main hoard. How unfortunate.

You had waited patiently to ambush them on the main road where they’d been trekking down for the past day and a half, it was too damn easy, all you did was pretend to be a hurt scared maiden in the woods. Then when they attempted to comfort you, your bear burst forth from the underbrush and slaughtered a handful before they even knew what hit them.

Now here you stand, boots in the spattered snow as you look around the blood stained white blanket of earth where a multitude of soldiers lay dead and mutilated. Though one remains with air still in his lungs, you smirk a wicked grin, eyeing up the fallen soldier as he stares wide eyed up at you from his broken body against a tree stump.

Your furry accomplice breaths heavy mountainous breaths close by, though he’s aware enough to know you’ll take care of the last one. And the terrified soldier knows it too as you take more steps closer. He flinches as you crouch down to meet his blood spattered face, “Nu-no, no...do-don’t...”

“Shhh.” You smile, raising a finger to his lips, silencing him instantly.

 He’s shaking now, eyes like a young fearful child’s as he studies your beautiful yet frightening appearance. “I thought all Nilfgaardian soldiers feared nothing, not even death. What a disappointment you all are.”

“We will...ta-take it....a-all...” He whimpers out as you throw him a harsh glare that shuts his bloody mouth.

“Just like I have taken your brothers lives,” You whisper with a sly grin before casually shrugging, “an eye for an eye they say....so don’t be afraid, I have felt the same as you do right now. Helpless, terrified, in pain....but listen...” You look sincerely into his broken gaze, a small smile upon your lips as you rest a comforting hand over his arm, though he knows its anything but comfort. “Nilfgaard and all her subjects can burn in the fiery pits of the underworld for what they’ve chosen to do in these lands. I was on the wrong side of the sword once, now you are, and no magical bear is going to come save you.” Your words are as deadly as poison, like a cobra spitting venom to their prey before the final strike.

His eyes go wide, blood seeping down his cracked lips, “No. No..n-no no! No!” Suddenly you thrust your dagger right through his jugular and right back out again causing a spurt of blood to mark your cheek, standing back you watch as he gasps and sputters, choking on his own blood as it gushes out of him like a waterfall.

“He even dies like a bitch.” You mutter in disgust, cleaning off your sword with your arm before sheathing it once again, now looking over to the beast standing in the snow. Heavy white clouds of hot breath pierce the crisp air as he watches your every move in interest, “Come. Let’s get away from here before someone sees us, we don’t need anymore bloodshed today. Now these fuckers are food for crows.”

The bear growls in agreeance, trailing after you as some hungry black ravens caw from the trees in excitement for their new free meal. No village will burn today.

——

“Oh yes, I saw her command the bear to kill those soldiers just three days ago!”

“That beast took my son last week, kill them Witcher!”

“I’m afraid to visit my cousins in the next town over! You must kill them!”

That had been the comments and ramblings of the townsfolk of the local tavern when he asked who and where this witch and her bear was. Though he didn’t get much of a solid answer by any means, not until an old hunter had eventually directed him to where the most recent cluster of Nilfgaard soldiers had headed.

Stating that if Geralt follows their route, then he would most likely come upon the men’s remains somewhere along the road, and if he was lucky, he’d run into the two killers as well.

Indeed it had taken him about a day or so, but eventually the farther down the trail he got, the fresher the tracks became. Suddenly during his journey did he pass a rider-less horse on its way back towards town, a dark brown smear of some kind splattered across its grey leg. Now this looked quite promising.

Only a small trot up the road did he finally find the brutal remains of the soldiers that had most definitely not made it to wherever they had planned on heading. The snow in particular was disturbed and littered with chunks of men, swords thrown about and shields bent and broken. He could smell blood and piss from the men, most of all he could smell bear and what it had done here, though it was strange too. For a sweeter scent could be recognized on the cool wintery breeze, such a viable contrast to the current state of the environment. 

She still lingers close, thinks the Witcher. Quickly moving to pull out his silver sword from within its sheath. Sensing a new presence among the fallen, he whips around in a dark blur only to be greeted face to face with a beautiful woman.

He stood his ground eyeing your form suspiciously like a lion wondering if his prey will be easy enough to kill, though he wasn’t certain if he truly wanted to kill you at all. You looked rather unassuming and calm, less monsterly and more a simple traveling woman then anything else, such unlike the grisly tall tales that those travelers and townsfolk had gossiped to him about.

Honestly Geralt was beginning to doubt what he had been given coin for, but he would not submit to that thought just yet, he has faced creatures just as alluring as you and found them quite deadly enough.

Keeping his silver placed firmly at his side, though still tightly grasped in his strong hand, his golden eyes trail over you cautiously, “You do this?” He wonders, coming out more of an accusatory statement as he glances at the bloody array of dead Nilfgaardian soldiers gutted about on the soft white snow.

Your breaths are steady though you feel more annoyed by his random intrusion then anything else, you only came back here to take their weapons to give to the villagers, “I have no quarrel with you, Witcher.” Your voice is truthful and fierce, not an ounce of nervousness radiating off of your tongue. As far as you’re concerned this man is nothing but an inconvenience.

He keeps a stoic face, not revealing much but a tinge of amusement in his shimmering eyes, “Strange then. I’ve been given coin to kill a dangerous sorceress and her enchanted bear. Fitting your description exactly, and here we are. Among the dead soldiers you’ve been claimed to murder.”

Scoffing you curtly fold your arms over your chest, “I hardly see a problem here when these fuckers have slaughtered countless innocents! They’re marching for the north and I do not doubt they’ll get it if people like me don’t try and lessen their numbers.”

He looks to the ground then back up to you, letting out a low frustrated sigh, “Your beast has killed villagers. Innocents.” His words are almost a slap in the face, but you know those people only got in the way of taking down these soldiers.

“Yes.” You nod, watching as he studies your face, “And it is a tragedy that I am greatly sorry for...but my companion is still an animal with his own will even when I give him a task. A bear is a bear, Witcher.”

He hums, “I understand that. But I cannot let you kill anyone else.”

Taking a single step back you quickly unfold your arms, alerting the Witcher to raise his sword though you show no intention of fighting him. His grey brows furrow as you shake your head, “You’re better off leaving us be. Those soldiers deserved what they got coming to them, and the people of this continent will thank us in due time. For they do not know the wrath and ruin that Nilfgaard is capable of.”

He watches as you take a couple more steps backwards towards the pine trees, your face serious and unflinching even when he takes a few steps towards you. “I kill monsters, witch. You’re no different.”

Now this does anger you, for that your eyes almost appear to darken with rage, your posture taller as you stare him down, “You are nothing but a blind fool who cannot see the bigger picture! So I won’t feel very bad about this..”

“About what?”

He watches as you take a step to the side, ignoring him when suddenly without warning does a ginormous brown bear charge from out of the evergreens, teeth and claws at the ready as they swing for his throat.

Geralt just barely dodges the huge furry bastard when a blundering paw races down for his arm, he twists away and out of the bears reach though his sword does catch the thick black pad of the bears left paw. It roars in pain, face a mask of rage as it turns towards Geralt with lighting reflexes.

Suddenly the bear swings a heavy paw directly into Geralt’s leather armored chest, knocking the wind out of him while also managing to thrust him blindly into a thick oak tree. All that the Witcher can glimpse before slipping into blissful unconsciousness is the wounded beast retreating into the woods while your silhouetted form begins walking towards him.

Then darkness.

——

When Geralt comes to he’s distressed to find his armor gone and his torso bare except for a thick white bandage wrapped around his shoulder and chest where the bear swatted at him with its large paw. The fabric is oddly soft, though a slight pink uneven line has seeped out now visible across his breasts, no doubt the area where that bear had gotten him. 

His big golden irises blink hard, focusing better now to unexpectedly find your smirking face as you walk into view, “Have a pleasant rest?” You muse, sitting down in a soft cushioned chair at his bedside, “My old friend gave you a run for your coin huh?”

Well this is odd, he thinks.

His brows furrow even deeper, though his chest hurts too much to attempt an escape, “I would have imagined you were going to kill me. I don’t understand...”

Chuckling lightly you smile, “Remember Witcher, I have no quarrel with you. Just those fucking soldiers....and don’t worry, my companion will not bring you any more harm unless I see to it.”

“Well...uh...I guess that’s good then.” Mutters the Witcher, begrudgingly scooting himself up so that he may rest against the wooden headboard and have a better view of the small room, “Where exactly are we?”

Looking around the cozy cabin you’ve decided to inhabit for the time being, your eyes finally rest back on the curious silver haired man, “Somewhere that was once vacant and now is livable. That is all I will say, and all that matters to you now....so, my pursuer who’d see me dead if not for my cleverness. If you are going to be in my care for however long it takes you to heal, what is your name?” You watch as the Witcher purses his lips together, pausing for a moment to think if he should tell you, “Geralt. Geralt of Rivia.” He reveals in that titular gruff voice of his that’s honestly starting to grow on you even in the brief time you’ve known him.

Handing him a small smile of acknowledgement, you nod, “And I am Y/N of Stygga in the land of Ebbing which is north of Nilfgaard...so, Geralt of Rivia....what brings you to Thurn of all places and into my care? Besides the fact that my companion almost ended your pretty life.” You end with a wiggle of your brow.

“Coin.” He mutters humorously, so he is not just a man of silent beautifully chiseled stone after all.

You hum, “Simple and straight to the point, are all Witcher’s as intriguing as you are?”

Geralt blinks slowly, deciding to rest his head against the wood as he looks forward, “Perhaps only the ones who want to survive.”

Laughing you lean back in your seat, “Flattery and humor may yet keep you alive then. But you are mistaken with me, I do not intend to keep you as a prisoner in any way if that’s what you are meaning. You are free to go back to wherever you came from or to wherever you’re going....as I said, I have no quarrel with you. Witcher.” You speak his name with a bit of attitude considering he did originally come to kill you, nonetheless you quite enjoy his presence.

The look he gives you is enough to make you chuckle once more, then his eyes glance back to you, causing your laughter to die down, though he’s surprised that your smile has prevailed. “Then why have you kept me alive when you could have ended me just as quickly?” He wonders.

You shrug, “The world is scarce of such creatures like yourself, Witcher’s hmm...monster hunters. Others will need you, and this world is big after all and full of terrible things.” You add, hugging your cloak tighter as you tilt your head at him, “so I’d assume after you heal up you’ll leave me and my companion be as long as I agree to keep away from towns. Yes.”

“Hmm.” He utters, brows furrowed as he thinks over your offer. 

The Witcher keeps silent as his face shifts into deep thought, huffing you roll your eyes, “Geralt are free to leave if you so choose. I give you my word if you give me yours.”

“Which is?”

“You let me and my familiar leave in peace and we let you live.”

He studies your face for a moment, trying to find any signs of falseness though he fails to spot it, “Fine.” Grumbles the handsome silver haired man.

You smile in accomplishment before a slightly awkward silence fills the room, deciding to break the tension you tap the arm of your chair, “Are you going to leave then? Right now?”

He keeps silent for some time as you patiently await his answer until finally he looks into your eyes, “No.”

“Huh.” You slowly nod, not quite expecting that answer, “...are you thirsty then? You were out for some time.”

“Yes.” Answers Geralt, simple and straight to the point.

Smiling you nod, standing now to fetch your new friend some water from outside, once you return with a metal cup do you hand him the cold liquid, his warm hand just barley touching yours. Sending shivers down your spine that you didn’t know was possible as you go back to sit next to him. “Those wounds should heal soon enough, I’ve heard Witcher’s heal fast. Is there any truth to that?”

His golden eyes trail over to you, not a hint of annoyance in the way that he looks to you now, “It would seem so. Hopefully I never have another run in with your friend anytime soon. Though I wouldn’t mind running into you again, hopefully under less bloody circumstances.” Admits Geralt with the ghost of a smile.

You chuckle, “As would I.”

——

In the following days would you and Geralt find comfort in one another’s presence as you helped him heal from his wounds. This Witcher had told you numerous stories about his adventures all over the continent and what beasts have been slain by his hand and sharp silver.

They were undoubtedly fascinating though surprisingly full of such vigor and even respect for the ones he’s been given coin to kill. It was pleasant when he spoke of all those who he had prevented from meeting an untimely and violent end from said monsters.

Even more so bewildering to you was how invested and intrigued you had become with each passing day, you actually woke up excited to see someone, to hear their voice and have them ask how your morning was.

Unbeknownst to you, Geralt had healed two days ago but had come to the fascinating conclusion that he was in-fact enjoying your company more then first realized. He loves listening to you boast about all the clever tricks you’ve pulled on the Nilfgaardians and how you’ve kept them away from the villagers who would most like want nothing to do with them.

Maybe it is the palpable truth that he has been indeed a bit lonely, or maybe it’s just that you tell the best stories and are unlike anyone he’s ever met before. But Geralt has begun to grow a deep fondness for you that cannot be fully explained by himself no matter how hard he may try.

Though at first he found you beautiful enough, that wasn’t a large concern considering he was there to kill you. Then once all was revealed he decided you really aren’t as evil and malevolent as what was spoken to him by the townsfolk.

Now, he has seen you, heard your voice and been given a kindness that he knows is something he shouldn’t deserve. But he cannot fully know if you share the same growing feelings, why would you? He came to kill, he came to end your beautiful life and for what, gold? No, you mean something now, you are someone to him now, a person that he can’t help but care for. And maybe even love, that is if he knew what that truly felt like, is this it?

But what of you?

You’d be a filthy liar if you said this Witcher didn’t tug at your heart strings like he does so freely without even knowing it. He has wonderfully taken you off guard with his hidden tenderness and rough voice that you’ve decided is one of the most alluring sounds you’ve ever heard.

His eyes catch in the light like two shimmering golden coins, the way he asks you for a drink or a piece of bread sends electricity through you. How pathetic, you think, however it is rather nice. And most of all, his body is truly something else, you’ve never seen a man so toned and full of scars. How lucky you were to take his shirt off and keep his wounds from bleeding out, and in those hours after, he looked rather peaceful as he slept.

If only you could have joined him, felt his touch, been the one who he wanted more then the bread you’ve given him. But he is just a Witcher, he will leave and life will presume as it had been before either of you had met. He’ll become just another lost tragedy of your past, another loved one gone, never to be seen again.

He is just a Witcher you fool.

You frown now, your gaze focused on the small hearth as you sit by the fire, poking it with a metal stick as your thoughts drift to better days long gone, taken so suddenly and without so much as a sorry from who did it.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes stare vacantly into the beautifully glowing embers, you hear nothing but the sparks of flame crackling on wood.

“Y/N.”

A whisper perhaps, you can’t tell, you’re so lost into your own head at this point nothing but the fire matters to you.

Without warning a gentle hand is placed on your shoulder causing you to jump and drop the metal stick onto the stone fireplace with a loud clatter. Your eyes dart for the one who touches you as your heart beats heavily inside your chest.

Instead of a petty thief come to slay you, is the soft comforting eyes of Geralt, “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Apologizes the Witcher as he sits down next to you, offering half of his huge warm blanket.

You oblige without a second thought and let him drape it over your back while he then scoots closer so that your crossed knee is touching his. You give him the flash of a sad smile before drifting your dreary gaze back to the glowing hearth.

“Thank you for sharing, winter is cold after all and this cabin isn’t the most insulated of places.” You add, a low drone in your voice much unlike your usual lively self that he’s grown to love.

Furrowing his grey brows, Geralt studies your half illuminated face in the firelight, the only real source of light since the sun has gone down hours ago. “I figured you needed the company, and a blanket. I can almost of see my breath.” He says with a small chuckle though you barley acknowledge his very presence.

“Y/N?” He whispers, nudging your leg with his, “I haven’t spoken of it before but if I may ask, what happened to your hand?”

You look down to your left hand opposite of where Geralt is sitting, you hide it from the light though it is covered with a white cloth and your long sleeves. He is very observant isn’t he?

“Nothing important. I got it when fighting those damn soldiers before I saw you. It’s almost all healed up.” You whisper, “No need to think about it anymore.”

The room stays silent for another couple minutes before he finally speaks once again in that low gruff voice of his, “What troubles you?” He asks much to your surprise, maybe he is too observant for his own good.

“Many things.” You mutter quietly, turning your face to find his concerned gaze, a small smile on your lips to lessen his doubts, “Don’t worry my dear Witcher, you’re not one of them. And I’d rather not give you my burdens, they are not a fun little adventure like the ones you’ve told me about.”

“Neither are all of mine.” He speaks truthfully, staring deep into your saddened eyes, “I would be honored to comfort you of such miseries if you still want me near after.”

You look to the floor, biting your lip at this almost intimate news even if he only means to speak words of ease to you. Why not? What is there to lose if you tell him why you feel so full of melancholy.

Raising your eyes back up to his, you take a deep heavy sigh before looking back into the fire, “I had a good life. I really did, I had a mother and a brother. But that was all taken from me when those bastards plundered and beat their way into my peoples lands. Looting and killing as they went, what could I do huh...my family was in their way.” You admit with a hidden rage that just about causes the flames to glow brighter.

“They came into our village and began to burn everything they could, they ran into houses and stole away valuables untouched by the desolation yet. They took and killed my neighbors and friends, women and children, screaming infants.”

You pause for a moment, eyes welled up with unshed tears as you find your voice, “They burst through our door and pulled us three from our house before we could even react. Then those fuckers killed the only person who ever showed me true kindness and love, she didn’t deserve to die that way Geralt, she didn’t. Then again none of them did.”

“I can’t imagine.” Whispers Geralt sincerely, understanding how much it pains you to speak of your mother like this.

“For that,” You seethe out darkly, “I killed my first soldier that day, but of course they didn’t like that, not at all. Soon they held me down and beat me bloody like I was a fucking dog, if it wasn’t for my brother who stopped them. I’d be dead, he saved my life that day, helped me escape and I never looked back.” You swallow thickly as a lone tear slides down your cheek, “I haven’t seen him since, and I dare not think of how he met his end. It just fills me with rage and then...as you can see, I get like this.”

“Best not to linger in the darkness for too long.” Admits Geralt, his eyes truthful and honest as he takes you all in, “I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

Breaking out into a crooked smile you blink more tears away as he moves an inch closer, “I already feel gone some days. I’m not a good person Geralt, I’m dangerous.” Your voice his raspy and soft now as the feel of the room appears to take a shift somewhere you’re not so sure of. Dangerous? Y/N he has no idea.

The Witcher’s lips curl into a pleasant smile as his face keeps mere inches from your own, “I like dangerous.” Whispers Geralt before his plush lips pull you into a new world of warmth and fire. He moves against your mouth, taking his time as the two of you find a comfortable rhythm. Well, this is nice.

He tastes as sweet as the apples you gave him for dinner and all the better to draw you away from your darkness as he showers you in his intoxicating light. You can’t believe how gentle and passionate he feels against you now and it’s only his lips!

You could stay like this forever but soon enough he pulls away, resting a calloused hand against your knee, “Forgive me I should have asked.”

“Don’t be a fool, I was thinking it too. And anyways you kept your word.”

“Did I?” Wonders Geralt, brows furrowed in confusion.

You smirk, “Remember? You said you’d comfort me of my miseries? Are you still planning on doing that...just a simple question really you don’t have to look so lost.”

Breaking out of his frumpled gaze he finally gives you a handsome smile, “How could I forget?”

“Well it was pretty traumatic so.” You deadpan with a dark humored snort before Geralt leans in to capture your lips once more.

The next morning you wake from the warm comfort of the cabins large single bed, an equally as warm arm covering half your face as you feel a large body pressed firmly against your side. Your hair lays free and unkept around your face as well, and you already know your naked underneath this soft blanket and snoozing man next to you.

His breaths are slow as he stirs in his slumber, pulling you in even closer as his arm now finds itself against your one free breast. You giggle quietly at the situation, how awkward it would be if someone was to burst forth from those doors and find you both in the nude like this. Ha, let them try.

Apparently you’re not as subtle as you’d thought, Geralt awakens before sucking in a deep breath as he stirs slightly, suddenly freezing in place once he realizes his hand is practically squeezing your boob.

You chuckle, moving your hand to keep it there, “You’re surprisingly a cuddlier, who would have thought?” You jest humorously.

“Uh....yes.” Mutters Geralt awkwardly as you smile, though he can’t see it.

Noticing his change of behavior you realize he doesn’t really know what to do about your boldness so you help him out by shifting yourself to face him. “With how well you were treating me last night I would have thought my breast would feel quite nice in your hand. Have I misinterpreted?”

He smiles, a small dusting of pink finding its way onto his chiseled features, “I find it important to respect you first Y/N, this is still...new.”

Biting your lip you lean in close to place a gentle kiss against his soft lips, “I enjoy your touch, you’re something that I believe I’ve been missing for a long while. Maybe we were meant to find each other and you not kill me.”

He chuckles a sweet sound that fills you with pure joy, “And you to heal me, I don’t feel much pain anymore.”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as you graze your hand down his face and arm, “I healed you enough about six days ago, I know you were just milking it since.”

“No I wasn’t...”

“Oh shut it, I think it was a clever idea to get in my pants if that was your plan.”

He fake scoffs, “That wasn’t the plan Y/N.”

“Then what was the plan? Oh wait,” You move yourself even closer to him, lips just barely touching, “Witcher’s don’t have plans, they just flatter and hope for the best.”

His strong arm holds you close as you rest your hand on his shoulder, “Maybe so.” Whispers Geralt before pressing his lips to yours.

Soon enough you find yourself pinned down to the bed, a very hot and visibly happy Geralt deep inside you as you try and keep yourself from screaming to loud. You can’t help how big and beautiful and so very large he is, and anyways he looks like a man on the edge of paradise. Who are you to deprive your new lover of his high?

Geralt does admittedly feel blessed against you if you’re being completely honest, the way he thrusts deeply into your womanhood like a man deprived of such pleasantries, or maybe the way your name falls onto his sweet lips when he feels his weakest. You can’t tell for sure, but he may be in love with just as much as you are with him and that is a promising thought. Or is it?

With an almost whiny moan do you finally come, the pleasure built up after such a ride releasing at long last. Sending a wave of euphoria throughout your entire vessel causing your slick walls to clench around Geralt’s hard cock as he continues to relentlessly pump into you.

Soon you can feel a hot warmness pooling into you as your Witcher grunts in satisfaction while his length twitches inside you, painting your walls with his seed like the skilled artist that he is.

Hovering just above your sweaty and very naked form does he smile kindly before leaning down to capture your swollen lips with his own. He bucks his hips into you a couple times more as he enjoys the feeling of making you squirm underneath him. Completely surrendering all that you are to him, though he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t doing the same with you.

Laying flush against you, his body still between your sore legs he pulls away from your pouting lips to lean his arms against your face. Soon another kiss is stolen, then another and another as he gently presses his lips to your cheek. Then jaw, where he decides to stay and attack for awhile which causes you to chuckle at his adorable-ness. 

“You need new clothes.” You practically moan as he playfully bites your jaw, kissing that spot just as quickly.

“It’s warm in here.” Mutters Geralt against your hot skin, “Nothing is as interesting as you.”

You bite back another moan, “We need food.”

He smirks against your neck, rolling his hips to try and sway your mind, “But you’re delicious enough Y/N.” Oh this man.

Breathing heavily you do your best to fight off your growing arousal, “Geralt.” You warn through clenched teeth, hands leaving red marks down his back as you playfully threaten him.

He kisses your cheek once more as a sly hand squeezes your firm breast, “Fine. Let me make love to you first then we can go.” States Geralt against your lips as he suddenly gives you three deep slow thrusts that send you into another realm of pleasure.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff/Reader - Land of Thieves - #ChapterEight

GIF is not mine.

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

AO3> Land of Thieves

Warnings:  18+, explicit language, explicit violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, cursing, blood. Chapters Warnings: Slightly smut, panic attacks.

Words: +40K (i can’t do math sorry)

tags: @mionemymind​ 

Something changed in your dynamic with Wanda. There was a tension, a longing. It made you hot and uncomfortable, hyper aware of her presence everywhere.

Even now, doing an activity as mundane as washing the dishes, while you caught a glimpse of Wanda sitting on a bench, cleaning her weapons with a rag, you tried to keep your attention on the chores, but your gaze returned to the woman a few feet in front of you, who didn't even look at you.

You wanted her to touch you again. And you couldn't stop thinking about it. But Wanda didn't seem willing to ease your suffering. She was torturing you, you realized. Maybe it was revenge, or maybe she just wasn't ready yet. Either way, she had you in her hand like a lost puppy, following her around the camp wherever she went.

Deciding that you needed to reclaim a minimal amount of control over yourself, you finished your chores, and headed toward Steve's tent, readily accepting whatever out-of-camp duties he had for you. Steve was surprised at your excitement to leave, but said nothing. He just explained that he needed a letter to be delivered to Stephen, who was no longer in camp. You offered to take the letter to the doctor all the way to town, and decided that you would buy yourself a new horse while you were in Saint Denis.

On the way back to your tent, you waved hello to Bruce, who was sitting by the campfire, cleaning his boots. He looked peaceful, and you expected him to talk to Nat about the two of them. He smiled and turned his attention back to the activity.

You took a jacket, and put on your holster, and your hat. You also remembered to take the little money you had saved from the last service. 

Walking out of your tent toward the horses, you stroked the mane of your temporary mount. He was obedient enough, but you would sell him to add in the money needed for a new horse. It was strange to replace Knight, but it was unavoidable. 

- Where are you going? - Wanda's voice sounded behind you, curious. You were slightly startled, and tried not to show your nervousness at seeing her. 

- Saint Denis. I'm delivering a letter to Stephen, and I need a new horse.

- Oh, great. I'm going to Rhodes. We can ride together halfway. 

Feeling your heart racing, you did your best not to sound too excited.

- Sure thing, Wanda. - You gave her a gentle smile, but she just looked at you with a glint in her eye that made your legs tremble.

- Good. - She said, walking toward her horse. You nodded slightly, and mounted yours.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you rode side by side in silence. It's been many minutes since you left the camp, and you are starting to get a little too anxious, so I decided to make conversation.

- So... what are you going to do in Rhodes?

Wanda looks calm as she rides alongside you, and she keeps looking forward. 

 - Steve told me to help Carol with the two families in town. - She says - As I understand it, she needs someone to infiltrate the Braithwaite mansion while she focuses on the other family, the Grays.

You nod with a grumble showing that you heard what she said. 

- Be careful. - You ask, and Wanda smiles mischievously.

- I will. 

You are silent again, and Wanda starts humming softly. You ride for a few more minutes when she speaks again.

- When I finish my work here, I'll meet you in Saint Denis. - She says, and you ignore the uncompensated beating of her heart.

- All right. - You say simply.

And then you arrive at the entrance of Rhodes. Wanda stops her horse right next to yours, and leans in to give you a lingering kiss on the mouth. You sigh at the contact, but she pulls away when you begin to properly respond. She smiles, and waves, riding away. 

You shake your head, trying not to look like a complete mess, and turn your horse toward the road, riding all the way to Saint Denis.

Stephen seems happy. And you quickly find out why when his wife comes home while you are on the porch talking. Christine must be about five months pregnant, and you blink your eyes wide when you notice. She smiles, kisses you on the cheek and tells you how much you have grown, and then goes into the living room to put away the groceries.

- God, Doctor, three kids! - You exclaim with excitement, turning to Stephen, who laughs, leaning on the balcony ledge. 

- I know, I know. - He says. - It was a surprise really. A good one, but still a surprise.

- And how are the girls? - you ask, leaning your elbow on the edge, looking at Stephen. 

- Exceptionally mischievous. - He answers with a smile. - Much the same as you used to be, actually.

You laugh, turning to look at the city. You and Stephen are silent for a moment before he speaks again, now in a more serious tone.

- Did Steve tell you what the letter was about? - he asks without looking at you. You watch an elderly couple in the street below walk across the alley.

- No, he just told me to bring it to you.

Stephen lets out a sigh, you wonder why he is being so mysterious about this.

- He wants to go back to New Austin. - he says, and you frown, turning your head to him in surprise. - He wants me to get a big enough scam to get you all back there.

You bite your lips, thinking about it.

- Why can't we stay here? - you ask. 

 - This region is becoming civilized very quickly. - He explains. - The government is determined to put an end to outlaws in this place. Especially here in Saint Denis. The rich are moving here after all, and they don't like cowboys.

- From the look on your face, you already have a scam for us. - You say after a moment, and Stephen gives a sideways smile.

- Actually, you've already found my tip. - He says finally turning to you. - I heard about the two feudal families in Rhodes. They are sunk in gold in that place. - He explains and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. - The Braithwaites supply nearly all the liquor in this town. And the Grays own nearly all the businesses in Rhodes.

- This also means that they are dangerous. - You counter, and Stephen lets out a chuckle, but nods.

- Of course they are. - He says. - That much gold will not go unprotected.

- Do you have any idea how we are going to steal them? 

Stephen sighs, running his hand through his hair to pull it back, and then leans back on the ledge with his arms.

- I haven't really thought about it yet. - he confesses. - But it will have something to do with their Moonshine, I'm sure. You will all be able to infiltrate the farms if you use the transport wagons.

- I see. - You say. - Write everything you know to Steve, maybe he can think of something too.  - You are silent for a moment before you speak again - By the way, any chance of you participating in this job?

The man laughs lightly, denying with his head.

- I don't have anything in New Austin. - he says. - My whole life is here in the south. I can't risk leaving Christine alone to take care of everything. She needs me here, and I want to stay.

You nod in agreement. You don't understand the feeling that settles in your chest when you imagine what it would be like to have something like this.

- Come have some tea while I write my letter. - He invites you with a smile, and you accompany him into his house.

You keep Stephen's letter in the saddlebag of your saddle, not wanting to crumple the paper in your jacket pocket. You hug Stephen goodbye, and tell him to write whenever he can. You end up not meeting his daughters, because they don't come home from church until the time you left, but you tell Stephen to give them a kiss for you. 

Riding towards the stable, you dismount your horse as you enter the establishment, while the owner of the place walks up to you looking excited.

- Oh, hello young lady! - He greets you. - How can I help you today?

- I need a new horse. - You tell the man as you hand the reins to the other stable employee.

- Oh, great. - He says and walks over to your horse, looking at it as if he were evaluating it. - Do you want to keep this one with us, or are you going to sell it?

- Sell. - You say. 

- And the documents?

- No documents. - You reply, if the man made any judgment with that information, he did not show it.

- Of course this will affect the value. - He comments. - But I'll take it, yes. Come with me, I'll show you the horses we have.

You walk toward the horses stored in the stables. There are not many, but the breeds look good. 

- We have Arabian horses, thoroughbreds, and appaloosas. - Comments the man signaling to the horses in front of him. - Oh, and we also have the big one there, a Missouri.

You nod, and walk toward the horses. They are all lovely, and seem obedient. You need one that is not so easily startled by gunfire, but you don't tell the seller that. 

He waits patiently beside you, whistling as you look at the horses. You let out a sigh, making your decision.

- How much for Missouri? - you ask, looking at the salesman. He smiles excitedly.

- This little beauty is yours for $250.

You whistle.

- That is expensive. 

The man lets out a weak laugh.

- Yes, yes. But it's a pure breed. - He argues without sounding aggressive. You can imagine how hard it is to keep a stable running in a town like this. - This breed is strong and lives a long life. It is also tame and loyal.

- That's fine. - You interrupt with a smile. - You can deduct the value of my horse from the price.

As you leave the stable, riding your new mare, you stroke her fur as you ride toward the saloon. You haven't thought of a name for your mount yet, you try to repeat names of famous figures along the way to choose one. 

It doesn't take long to reach the place, and many curious glances land on you. 

You tie your horse to the palanquin in front of the place, and walk inside. 

It is crowded and noisy and everyone dresses very nicely there. You don't know when Wanda will finish the job, so you decide to play a bit of poker while you wait.

You walk over to the card table and no one seems to mind if you join the game. The dealer smiles at you when you pay your entrance fee.

Many rounds later, you have probably left the table with less money than you arrived with, although you have won a few rounds. 

You walk toward the bar, and as you sip your beer, a man leans on the counter beside you, a glass of booze in his hand.

- Greetings, stranger. - He says and you raise your eyebrow suspiciously, without looking at him. 

- Can I help you, friend? - you ask snidely, hoping he will leave you alone. The man straightens his posture, turning his body toward you. 

- Just a friendly chat. - He replies with irony, taking a sip of his drink while facing you. 

- Go have a conversation with someone else then. - You grumble as you turn to him, a mock expression on your face. But then he makes an angry expression, and puts his drinking glass down on the counter.

- Let's cut straight to business then. - He says. - You stole my money.

- I beg your pardon?

- The carriage you stole in Rhodes. - He hits back. - That job was mine. 

You let out a dry laugh. 

- What do you want me to say? I'm sorry you're not a good thief?

The man then let out a laugh, completely losing his aggressive posture.

- Damn, I'm messing with you. - He says. - Actually, I gave up on that carriage. And you should know why.

You are slightly surprised by the insinuation, but you relax your body, leaning your back and elbow on the counter, while keeping your voice low to prevent snoopers from hearing you.

- Who gave you the carriage tip? - You ask the man, and he smiles and rests his body on the counter beside you.

- It wasn't the same guy as you, you can be sure of that. - He answers in a teasing tone. You smile, waiting for him to continue. - My contact warned me about the carriage, but I declined the service. - He tells you, and bites his lips thoughtfully for a moment. - I didn't imagine that anyone else would accept.

You shrugged.

- There is always more than one person wanting to steal the same things. - You retort, making me laugh slightly. - But why all the secrecy? Just tell me what you want.

The man laughs again, finding your impatience amusing. He takes a sip of his drink, looking serious again.

- I found out the origin of the carriage. - He explains - But I don't have a gang. And I need company.

You laugh, frowning, and then turn to him.

- Just tell me what you mean.

- You see this object hanging below my holster? - he asks, and your gaze immediately drops downward. - It is a talisman from the people of Wakanda.

- The natives?

He nods in agreement, and you look away from the small embroidered circle strapped to his holster. 

- I think everybody knows them as the Panthers now. - He remarks with a light humor in his voice. 

- What does this have to do with the carriage?

The man laughs.

- I'm getting there. - He jokes before turning back to a serious expression. - The American government has gone to great lengths to wipe out the natives of the region. The Wapiti people have been practically isolated in the north of the country. - He comments with a slight irritation in his voice. - And the Wakanda, well, they barely survived with oil exploration. And then, when the war happened, they recovered. They're all over the country now. - He pauses to steal some of your beer, and you cast him an incredulous look, but say nothing. - But then, the government is civilizing this area now. And they don't want to share the land with anyone else. The wagon you stole was carrying the pay of a group of soldiers, camped north of here.

- I imagine they were not happy not to be paid. - You comment, and the man laughs lightly.

- Oh yes, that's for sure. - He says. - What bothers me is what they are doing in the north. I just found out that the army is assigning soldiers to destroy the indigenous reservations. - He states and you frown - They vandalize sacred areas and shrines, and steal the horses to prevent hunting, which consequently leads to starvation.

- This is horrible. - You say, and the man shrugs his shoulders in agreement. And then you fall silent for a moment, while you ponder what exactly he wanted. You bite your lips, before speaking again. - Look, I'm sorry about the whole situation with the Wapiti and the Wakanda people.  But I don't understand how all this is my problem.

The man let out a wry smile, but didn't look at you. Then he finished the beer.

- Interesting last name you have. - He remarked. - Interesting origin.

You frowned, finally understanding. 

- Don't you dare talk about my family. - You strike back in a threatening tone. It takes a moment before he speaks again.

- Your people need your help.

You let out a wry laugh.

- I don't have a people. - You hit back aggressively. 

- Your great-grandmother was Wakanda, and your grandfather was Wapiti, you will always be part of that people, even if you decide to walk around pretending you're not.

Clenching your fists and locking your jaw in anger, you turn to the counter again, ignoring the urge you have to punch the man. You concentrate on your breathing, to calm yourself, while you can't ignore the fact that he was right.

- I'll let you think about it. - said the man, tapping you lightly on the shoulder. - By the way, my name is Erik Killmonger. Look for me when you change your mind. - He says before dropping a few dollars on the counter and walking out. 

You sink your face into your hands for a second, letting out a dissatisfied grumble. It's been so long since you thought about your parents. 

You didn't remember your childhood so well. But the more you thought about it, the clearer the few memories became. You think you lived on a ranch, you remember horses and sheep. And then you have this memory of your father showing you how to make a bow. You remember dream catchers in your house, and you swallow dry. 

Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you think Erik has returned, and turn around with a serious expression. But it is Wanda who is beside you, she smiles, and you feel your body relax immediately.

- Hi - You greet her as you look at her. She looks beautiful, her hair hanging loose over her shoulders. 

- You seem tense. - She says leaning her elbow on the counter while looking at you.

- My past is haunting me. - You playfully shrug. Wanda frowns with confusion, and when you explain it to her, she looks quite surprised.

- You never told me about your parents. - She comments tenderly. You shake your shoulders uncomfortably.

- It's a delicate topic, I think. - You confess. - It makes me sad.

Wanda held your hand gently, stroking the top of it with her finger. You smile for the touch.

- I guess... I just didn't expect it. - You say. - I didn't expect that anything related to my family would come back to me.

- You want to help them, don't you? - Wanda deduces, looking at you fondly. You smile and nod in agreement.

- But that can wait. - you say after a moment. - I'd like to spend some time with you now.

Wanda seems slightly surprised by the change of subject, and a little shy at the invitation, but she smiles at you.

- Where would you like to go? - she asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you think.

- We could just walk around town. - You answer. - Watch the sunset, then go to the theater.

Wanda laughs slightly at the charming smile you flash her, and then she nods. 

You walk out of the saloon, Wanda's arm wrapped around yours. Your steps are slow, both of you wanting the walk to last as long as possible.

You chat softly about various subjects, mostly reminiscing about your childhood memories, like when you tried to tame Bucky's horse and he knocked you down like a bull, or when you and Wanda got a scolding from Potts when you arrived at the camp covered in mud. 

Wanda's laughter made your stomach turn with nervousness, and you couldn't remember exactly when you fell in love with her. Part of you thinks it's always been this way, ever since she arrived in the gang with a grumpy face and worn boots, and an accent she'd lost over the years, you fell for her. Hard, fast, and immediately.

As the afternoon falls, you head for the theater. You are a little embarrassed when the box-office clerk asks you if you were a fan of the actors, and you tell him that you didn't really know the play, and he gives you an incredulous look. But Wanda smiles at you, and you just buy your tickets quickly.

You sit in the back, and you think you have paid attention to two minutes of the entire play. Wanda was laughing about the show next to you, and you held your breath as you watched her. She was breathtaking.

You didn't even hide that you were staring, although you felt your cheeks heat up when she turned her face to you, but Wanda smiled and matched the intensity of your gaze. The theater was dark, but you could still see her green orbs in the low light. 

- It's not polite to stare. - She teases you by looking straight ahead again. You smile, and then lean toward her.

- I can't help it. - You whisper in her ear. - You're beautiful. - Wanda sighs, but doesn't look away from the stage. You step back, a shy smile on your face, and then you hold your breath when you feel her hand on your thigh.

- What are you doing? - You ask breathlessly as you feel her caress your thigh in a down-and-up motion. Wanda looks around, and then turns her face to you. 

- You will be quiet for me won't you? - She asks with tenderness and malice in her voice. You feel your heart race. Wanda begins to unbuckle your belt slowly, and you look around. You are in the last row, hidden by the darkness of the theater. At least two rows are empty beside you and in front of you, and the play has just begun with a music number, and you would not be heard. Yet you shivered in anticipation.

- Wanda, for heaven's sake. - You said, but she just kept unbuttoning your pants. And then she brought your faces together and kissed you hard. Your tongue met hers at the same moment she slipped her hand into your pants, and you let out a hoarse moan against her, feeling your body tremble.

Wanda stroked your pussy with one finger superficially, making you gasp against her mouth. She smiled against the kiss, pleased with the way your body responded to her. And then she parted your mouths to deposit slow, wet kisses against your chin and down your neck, as her finger caressed you. You closed your eyes tightly, overwhelmed by the sensations.

Then Wanda penetrated your pussy, and you had to bite her shoulder to keep from screaming. As she began to move in and out of you, you whimpered as your whole body shook. 

- Be quiet. - Wanda whispered in your ear tenderly, but it was hard to obey when she stimulated your clitoris with her thumb. 

- Wanda, I'm goin' to... - You started to say, but your voice faltered. Your eyes rolled back in their sockets as she hit a particular spot. You were doing your best to control the spasms in your body, not wanting to make so much noise.

- I know, darling. - Said Wanda as she brought your foreheads together, and then she whispered against your mouth - Come for me.

You moaned against her mouth, and she only had to push into you once or twice more before you fell apart in her fingers. As you tried to normalize your breathing, Wanda removed her fingers from you, and lifted them to her own mouth, tasting you. You sighed at the image, and moved in, kissing her hard.

But then she parted your mouths, smiling innocently as she zipped up your pants and buckled your belt. 

You were about to say something, but then the theater lights came on. The play was over. It took you a few seconds to get up, your wobbly legs not helping you keep your balance.

Wanda held your arm again as you left the theater, and you invited her to come back to the saloon, and rent a room, and Wanda bit her lips as she nodded in agreement.

However, as you passed in front of one of the many alleys leading to the saloon, you heard a noise. Wanda heard it too, and you exchanged a look as you turned your heads to get a better look. It was hard to see in the darkness of the street, but then someone was thrown forward, falling to the floor of the alley. You both let out a startled exclamation, taking a step back. But then you recognized that it was the same man from the bar.

- Fuck. - You grumbled as you released yourself from Wanda, rushing into the alley and hitting the assailant with a hard punch to the face.

You helped Erik sit up next, and grimaced at his bloodied face. He looked too injured to fight, and was leaning against the wall trying to breathe normally. And then the assailant was back, a silver knife in his left hand.

It was difficult to fight in an alley, but you dodged the man's attempts to stab you and then hit him in the face again. And when he bent over in pain, you disarmed him, throwing the knife away. The man let out an angry yell and jumped at you, knocking you to the ground by your waist. You let out a grunt of pain at the impact, and were about to raise your arms to protect your face from the punch he was preparing to throw, but then he was hit with a kick to the face.

He fell to the floor unconscious, and you looked up to see Wanda with a deadly glare in the attacker's direction. But then her expression softened, and she helped you up, a small smile on her lips.

- You're losing your touch, my love. - She teased you, causing you to roll your eyes humorously. You hurried to check on Erik, kneeling beside him.

- Hey, buddy. - You say, raising your hand toward his face, looking at his wounds. It's nothing serious, he must have been hit many times and it bewildered him. - You're going to have one hell of a scar.

He laughed breathlessly, and then coughed. And then you noticed that he had a hand on his chest. You frowned, as you lowered his hand to see what it was. An open wound was bleeding from his chest, you hurried to apply pressure.

- Oh, shit. - You exclaimed, trying to stop the bleeding. But you knew it was deep enough to have hit his lung.

- We're going to lose this war, girl. - He told you weakly.

- Who did this to you? Who are these people? - you asked.

Erik coughed up blood this time. 

- Please. - he asks, reaching into his jacket pocket with his arm. He hands you a piece of paper. - Help them escape.

And then he closes his eyes, and his head drops down. You blink several times, trying to understand that he is dead. Your last connection to your family has been broken. Wanda removes your trembling hands from his bloody chest, and raises her hands to your face, making you look at her.

- We can't stay here. - She says in a serious tone, but her eyes are gentle. - We have to go now.

You nod, still in shock. Wanda drags you into the alley, and you go around the block. You say nothing, and she doesn't push. 

As you get back on your horses, you hear the whistles of the city guards in the distance, signaling that they have found Erik. 

You get on your horses, and ride toward the camp.

You think you are dying. One minute you're riding in silence beside Wanda, and the next, your vision is blurred, and you feel a pressure in your chest. You think you can't breathe, so you dismount, crouching down as you put your hands on your knees, reaching for air. All you can see is Erik's bloody chest and then the graves of your parents. You think you start to cry, but you're not quite sure.

And then, Wanda's hands are on you, and she hugs you tight, asking you to breathe. She brings you back to reality with gentle words and soft touches. 

- I'm sorry. - You manage to mumble against her hair. Wanda shakes her head in denial, and says you don't have to apologize for anything.

She hugs you for several minutes, until you can breathe normally. When you look at her, she wipes the tears from your face.

Wanda attaches the reins of your horse to hers, and you ride Lily along with her. You hug her, laying your head on her back as she rides back to camp.

Despite the softness, and Wanda's low singing, you avoid falling asleep so that you don't fall off the horse.

When you arrive, you are feeling exhausted. And you tell Wanda that you need to talk to Steve and Bucky, but she insists that you should sleep, and drags you into your tent. And then she leaves, and doesn't come back until minutes later with a bucket of water. You are startled when you notice the dried blood on your own hands, but Wanda touches your face, calming you as she helps you clean yourself up.

When she is finished, she helps you off with your boots and jacket, only now you realize how sore you were from the fight. She gives you a kiss on the forehead as you lie down, but you don't let go of her hand.

- Wanda. Stay. - You whisper to her. You don't mind that the bed is tight.

Wanda removes her boots and you open your arms for her to lie on top of you. The pressure of her body on yours keeps you anchored, and you tighten your arms against her before falling asleep.

[sfb123]

Sapere Aude - Part 15

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

If you’re new to Sapere Aude, please click the link above to start from the beginning. There’s so much going on right now that you’ll be way too confused to start from this point. Plus, there are some major bombshells that won’t be as fun if you read this and get a bunch of spoilers.

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Trigger Warning: A brief moment of physical abuse.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Disclaimer: I have no current affiliation with any other Via Imperii themed stories. Any claims that I have pre-read anything are false.

Word Count: 3,435

A/N: Guys, we’re really in the home stretch now, we’re slowly but surely getting some resolutions. I finished this up the other day, and am already halfway through the next chapter. I’m hoping to have the series completely written by the end of the weekend or early next week. I have some really exciting and unexpected things coming, and I can’t wait to share them with you!

Thank you, as always, to the amazing, @phoenixrising308​ (<--- my fandom soulmate, you may know her as @jessiembruno​, follow her new account so you don’t miss a second of her incredible work) & @txemrn. And to @twinkleallnight for my lovely moodboard!

Tags: Listed below, hit me up to be added or removed.

Liam’s eyes fluttered open, his wife slowly coming into focus in front of him. She was already awake, and smiled at him as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Morning.” She greeted him softly.

“Hi.” He placed a hand on her cheek and leaned in, leaving a lingering kiss on her lips. 

“Do you want to talk? Drake texted me, he got Eleanor out of bed, so we have some time.” Liam silently nodded his head. Riley removed his hand from her cheek and kissed his palm before sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. 

Liam rolled onto his back, stretching his arms over his head with a groan before sitting up next to Riley, taking her hand in his. “And I thought our wedding was an eventful day.” He chuckled lightly. 

“Liam, real talk.” Riley replied, combing the fingers of her free hand through his hair.

“I...I feel like I got some closure. I needed that moment. When it was just you telling me that she was alive, it was easy to ignore, or pretend it wasn’t real. But with her standing in front of me, I had to face the truth, face what she did to me. And now she truly knows how much she hurt me. I can move on now, and truly put her in the past.”

Riley smiled at him. “That’s great, I’m so proud of you. I also noticed that you told Thomas you still wanted a relationship with him?”

“He holds no responsibility for what happened, he was born into a life that he had no control over.” Liam’s expression became more pensive as he spoke about Thomas. 

“And you understand the feeling, so you’re cutting him some slack.”

Liam nodded. “Sort of, we were both born with certain responsibilities and expectations, I can understand his feelings of obligation. As much as I missed out by losing my mother, and him, he lost out on even more. He was supposed to be a prince, he is a prince, and he’s lived as a commoner his whole life. We both missed out on so much by not having each other, like we should have. I can’t get that time back, but I can try to make up for it moving forward.”

“You’re amazing Liam, you know that right?” Riley looked at him adoringly. 

He brought his hand to her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “You may have mentioned it once or twice before.” He leaned in and kissed her. “You know, I didn’t get a chance to properly show you how happy I am to have you home and safe.” He kissed her again, this time pulling her into his lap. 

She giggled as his lips began working their way down her neck. “Liam, we don’t have time right now. I’m sure everyone is waiting for us. Rain check?” 

Liam lifted his head and placed his forehead against hers. “You promise?” He kissed her softly on the nose.

“Have I ever let you down in that department?”

“Never.” He kissed her deeply, running his hands down her back until they rested on the curves of her ass.

“Good, then let’s go.” She kissed him one last time before getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Once they were ready, they headed downstairs and headed to the smaller dining room. Eleanor noticed them immediately and charged at her mother. “Mommy!”

Riley lifted her daughter into her arms and held her close for a moment before pulling away and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Hey baby girl, were you a good hostess to our guests while mommy and daddy were away?”

“Yes mommy, the best hostess!” As Riley brushed some hair out of Eleanor’s face, Eleanor noticed the marks on Riley’s wrist where she had been bound the day before. “You have a boo-boo mommy.” 

“I know baby, I do.” She held her wrist out so Eleanor could look at it. 

“I can fix it.” Eleanor grabbed Riley’s hand and brought her wrist to her lips, kissing the marks with a loud smacking sound. “There you go mommy, all better now.” She smiled at her mother proudly. 

Liam looked on, quickly swallowing the lump that formed in his throat at the sight. In that moment, it hit him again that not only would he have lost his wife, the best thing that had ever happened to him, but Eleanor would have lost her mother. He quickly shook off the thought, everyone was safe, and they were about to take steps to eliminate their greatest threat.

“Thank you Eleanor, it feels so much better.” Riley gave her one last hug before putting her back down. “Why don’t you go see Miss Gladys, she’ll take you into the kitchen to get something to eat. We need to have a grown up breakfast.”

Eleanor nodded and ran out of the room in search of Gladys. Riley and Liam approached the table as their friends stood to greet them. “Sit down weirdos, this isn’t a royal function, this is breakfast with friends.” Riley waived them off as everyone sat at the table. It was silent for a moment, nobody quite sure how to break the silence. “So I guess we should start by addressing the elephant in the room. Neville and Mara kidnapped me yesterday. Before you start with me; I’m fine, Neville has been arrested, Mara is dead.”

“Good riddance.” Olivia interrupted. The group laughed at her comment, breaking some of the tension in the room. 

Their friends listened with bated breath as Riley and Liam recalled the events from the day before. Riley told them about the kidnapping, and everything that transpired between her and Neville. She told them how Eleanor had come to her rescue, Liam tensing slightly, as this was the first time he had heard that part of the story. She went on to explain that Liam had come face to face with Eleanor, and how proud she was of him for confronting her and lifting that huge weight of his chest. 

Liam picked up the story from there, explaining that he said what he needed to say to get the closure he needed with his mother, and that he wanted to try to build some kind of a relationship with Thomas. He still wasn’t sure what that relationship would look like, but he was excited to find out. 

“So where do we go from here?” Maxwell asked, once the group had been fully caught up. 

“Well, we need to squash the Auvernal thing once and for all, and I think there’s only one way to do that.” Riley said. It was something she had been thinking about since the meeting where revisiting the alliance came up. “We’re going to have to release the information we got when we destroyed the alliance the first time. The only way we are going to put an end to this is to tell the world that the twins are not blood heirs to the throne.”

“But what if this group tries to spin it, or screw with the records?” Drake asked. Nobody was quite sure how to answer that, but it was a legitimate concern. 

“We out the Via Imperii. If they’re a secret society, announcing that they were behind the kidnapping of our Queen, and were trying to push forward a marriage alliance with heirs that do not have true birthright to the throne will knock them off their high horse.” Olivia stated. 

“But how do we know they know?”

Riley tapped her fingers against the table, thinking for a moment before chiming in. “We don’t Max, that’s fair. But they probably do, they seem to know just about everything else. Even if they don’t, they’re not going to hold their own press conference to contradict us. It kind of goes against their whole being a secret thing.”

“Very well, I will make sure to get a press conference scheduled in the coming days to make the announcements.” Liam chimed in. “I will also set up an emergency council meeting to inform them of our decision, and also move things forward with Neville.” 

“What are you going to do to him? Can I be the executioner?” The excitement in Drake’s voice made Riley and Maxwell giggle, while Olivia rolled her eyes.

Liam chuckled lightly before responding. “I have thoroughly thought out his punishment, we will review it in the council meeting tomorrow.” He cleared his throat before moving on to the next open item. “Finally, I have promised Thomas and his mother that the crown would protect them for their assistance in saving Riley. Nobody knows about Thomas’s connection to the crown, or my family, so he will not need to remain in hiding. However, he is going to be a target of the Via Imperii, so he will no longer be able to guard my family. I do have a position in mind for him, I would like him to work with Bastien and I to completely overhaul the guard program.”

“It’s about damn time.” Olivia scoffed. 

“I agree, Olivia. Regrettably, I have let the current program go far too long, and it almost cost my wife her life.” He reached over, taking Riley’s hand in his, offering an apologetic smile. “We absolutely cannot let another Mara slip through the cracks. With his intimate knowledge of the Via Imperii, I feel that he would be a great asset.” He paused as the room nodded in agreement. “As for his mother, she was a notable figure in Cordonia for many years, so she will need to remain in hiding. We will need to set her up in a safe house with a team of guards.”

Olivia cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention. “I can house her in Lythikos.” All heads snapped in her direction, and she sat a little taller in her seat to overcompensate for the discomfort she felt in that moment. “When I was a child, she showed me a kindness I had never known at a time when I needed it most. Liam, I respect your decision not to reconnect with her because of what she did to you, I hope you can respect my decision to want to help her because of what she did for me.” 

Liam nodded. “Absolutely Olivia, as long as she and I do not cross paths, I will put her in your care.” 

“Ok, so we have all the work stuff out of the way. There’s a plan, nobody is in any immediate danger. Can we please relax and have a nice breakfast and enjoy what’s left of our getaway weekend?” Maxwell asked dramatically. 

“Amen to that.” Riley replied, pulling her napkin from the table and placing it in her lap. The group dug into their food, the mood much lighter than it had been when Liam and Riley arrived.

The next day Liam walked out of the state room. He had just adjourned the emergency meeting of the Royal Council to discuss everything that had been uncovered during their trip to Valtoria. He rushed to catch Drake, who had slipped out while Liam was still shaking hands and saying his goodbyes to the other council members. “Drake, hold on a moment.” 

Drake stopped walking and turned to face his friend. “Hey Li, what’s up? I was just going to head home.”

“I was actually hoping you could help me out with something. I’m heading down to the cells to personally deliver the news to Neville.”

Drake’s lips curled up into a devious smile. “And you want me to be there to see it all go down? Liam, I’m speechless. It’s not even my birthday.”

Liam chuckled and patted his friend on the shoulder. “Well, it’s not just for you to bask in his misery, I need your assistance.” His expression turned serious before he continued. “Drake, after what he did to Riley, I don’t trust myself alone with him. I need you to be there to pull me off in case I go too far.”

“Li, you know I’m always there for you for anything you need, but do you really think I’m the best person to stop someone from hurting Neville? Honestly, I can’t even guarantee that I won’t jump in and throw a couple of punches myself.”

“Then we will bring Bastien along as well, but I would really appreciate it if I had you by my side for this.”

Drake nodded, and the two of them headed for the cells with Bastien in tow. When they arrived, Bastien took Neville from his cell and put him in one of the interrogation rooms. They waited before entering, giving him time to sit alone with his thoughts. Once Liam felt he had waited long enough he looked to Drake and the two entered the room together. Drake stepped back into the corner as Liam approached Neville, who was sitting at a table, but stood immediately upon the King’s entry. 

“Ah, so you are capable of showing respect to your betters. I had heard otherwise.” Liam took a seat, signaling for Neville to do the same. 

Neville scoffed. “Your majesty, I always have. Your queen just doesn’t happen to be one of them.”

“Oops, wrong answer.” Drake chimed in from the back corner. 

Liam shot up from his seat. He charged at Neville on the other side of the table, lifting him by the front of his shirt and holding his gaze. “How dare you speak of your queen, my wife, that way.”

“Liam, why don’t you give him the good news, before you beat the shit out of him? That way he’ll be able to fully appreciate it. I know I will.” At Drake’s words, Liam released Neville who shot an angry glance in Drake’s direction. Drake winked at him. 

“Of course Drake, thank you for keeping me on task.” Liam straightened his jacket and returned to his place at the table, sliding a folder across it to Neville. “Neville, you have officially been stripped of all of your titles and lands. This paperwork will provide you with the specifics, but as of about an hour ago, you are no longer a noble.”

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped, shocked at the new development. “You mean I am a…” He trailed off, unable to utter the word. 

“You’re a commoner, just like me!” Drake cheerily finished Neville’s sentence for him. 

Liam raised a hand to silence his friend. He was enjoying this just as much as Drake was, but as King he did need to keep an heir of levelheadedness about him. “You will also be tried with treason for kidnapping Queen Riley. Your trial will begin next week, and I don’t think you need me to tell you, but I will. It is not looking promising for you Mr. Vancoeur.” 

Neville crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “Wonderful, just let me know when the execution is to take place.”

“Oh Neville.” Liam laughed as he stood, once again walking to the other side of the table. “Do you really think you are going to be let off that easily?” Neville cocked an eyebrow as Liam got in his face, his demeanor calmer than before. “I have final say in all sentencing, and for you I have something in mind that will make you pray for death. You will be spending the remainder of your days in your cell, eating food that doesn't even register on the Michelin guide, knowing that you have no status, no pull. The life you once knew, a distant memory as you sit here for decades to come. That is the worst possible punishment I am able to bestow as your King.” Neville leaned back and audibly gulped. “As far as the punishment I am able to bestow as a husband…” Liam squared his shoulders and brought his fist back before thrusting it forward, making hard and fast contact with Neville’s jaw, knocking him out of his chair and onto the floor. As he laid there holding his face, Liam approached once more, this time kicking Neville swiftly in the ribs. “How dare you lay a hand on my wife.” He crouched down on the ground, lifting Neville by his shirt. “Please know that there is more I would like to do to you, but you are not worth any more of my time. Just remember that my American commoner wife will be up there enjoying every luxury in the world, as she deserves, while you rot away down here dreaming of the life you once had.” 

Liam landed one last punch to Neville’s face before letting go of his shirt and watching his head hit the ground. He then slumped over, breathing heavily as the adrenaline began to wear off. Drake approached him and patted him on the shoulder lightly. “C’mon buddy, let’s get out of here. You got what you came for.” 

Liam nodded silently as his friend helped him to his feet. Drake draped an arm around Liam’s shoulder and walked with him out of the room. He looked at Bastien, who had been waiting at the door and signaled for him to return Neville to his cell. Bastien gave Drake a curt nod and retreated to the interrogation room as Drake and Liam made their way back to the main area of the palace.

When they reached the foyer, Drake stopped Liam before he reached the steps. “Hey, are you okay? Do you want to go to your office for a drink or something?”

Liam brushed him off. “I’m fine Drake, I’m just going to head up to my quarters and relax with my family.” He extended his hand to Drake. “Thank you for coming with me today.”

“Of course man. Any time, any place. You know that.” Drake shook his hand and pulled him into a hug, clapping him on the back before pulling away. “I’m going to call you later to check in.”

Liam gave him a small smile before turning and heading up the stairs towards his chambers. Upon entering, he was greeted by an empty living room. “Riley?” He called out.

“Bedroom.” He heard her faint reply from the hallway and followed the sound of her voice. 

He entered the room as she was exiting her walk-in closet holding multiple hangers. “I mean honestly, I love my life and how much you spoil me, but do I really need this many black dresses?” She let out an exasperated sigh before looking up and noticing Liam. “What happened? What’s wrong?” She dropped the dresses she was holding and rushed up to him.

“I just got back from the cells.”

“Liam Rys, what did you do?” Riley placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. 

“He’s fine, the medics will bandage him up. I’m sure losing his title hurt him much more than I did.” He grabbed her hands off of her hips and brought them to his lips. “He hurt you, Riley. He tried to take you away from me. I know he’s going to be punished for what he did, but it won’t ever be enough.”

Riley lifted his hand, examining it. It was red, bruises already beginning to form at the knuckles. She kissed each knuckle softly. “Come on, let’s ice it before it gets too bad.” She held onto his hand, leading him into the kitchen. “Sit.” she pointed to the kitchen table. 

Hey obeyed, sitting at the table as she went to the freezer, pulling out an ice pack and wrapping it in a dish towel. She joined him at the table, sitting on his lap, and taking his injured hand in hers once more. She pressed the ice pack to his knuckles, he hissed slightly at the feeling. She pressed her lips to his in a lingering kiss as she continued to hold the ice to his hand. “To distract you from the pain.” She said with a wink as she pulled away.

“You have always been my favorite distraction.” He brought his free hand to her face, pulling her into a deeper kiss. “When is Eleanor due back?”

“Mmm..a little over an hour.” She cooed.

“Perfect, that will be more than enough time.” 

“For what?” 

“For me to cash in my rain check from yesterday.” Liam removed his hand from under the ice pack and lifted Riley bridal style to the bedroom, kicking the door closed behind them.

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[aurabird]

Guidance for Guilt

How does one deal with the guilt and regret they feel when they see the way people look at them? You seek out another that has been in the same situation before.

Also on Ao3

Despite the title, this doesn’t actually have angst in it.

-----------

Sausage went by horseback as he left Mythland, too afraid to even touch the corrupted elytra he once wore for longer than a few seconds let alone wear it again.

The ride through the desert was slow despite the well-worn paths from trade routes, the unrelenting heat miserable for both him and his stead and briefly he debated turning back and borrowing an elytra from someone.

Night fell as the moon took the place of the sun. It was a respite from the heat sure, but out here, night brought a chilling cold. The Mythland king would never understand why anyone would want to live in the desert, and yet one of the largest and most powerful empires was nestled at the heart the said biome.

The Vigil of Pixandria shone like a beacon in the night as if to lead those weary and lost among the dunes to shelter from the elements. Sausage grimaced briefly at the fact that the last time he was there, he’d built a fake embassy and trapped it, the aim to kill the empire’s king. He had been struggling to fight off the corruption then and even though he had the self-awareness to know what he was doing was wrong, he did it anyway.

To be fair, his mind argued, Pix HAD issued a challenge to all that wished to prank him to make sure their attempts were more than a pathetic pitfall trap... so was it really Sausage’s fault if the oracle had asked for something so explosive in the first place?

Sand began to transition granite and brick as Sausage entered the oasis of an empire. The streets weren’t empty, but the citizens of Pixandria that were around spoke in hushed whispers of intrigue at him. They didn’t know who he was, he’d worn his assassins guild attire strictly so that he could hide his face.

After all, he was still technically enemy number one in pretty much every single empire. If the Pixandrians had known who had entered their city, then their reactions probably wouldn’t have been the most welcoming.

He found an inn in the center of this residential area and paid the stable boy the money required to leave his horse there before continuing to the capitol of the empire.

As he entered the familiar area he found it mostly empty, understandably so given how late it was, and took time to look at the Vigil; the colorful candles and lanterns that decorated the are around it just as stunning as the last time he’d been here.

Pix had told him once that the Vigil was for the twelve empires alone since in Pixandrian beleif they all had to exist regardless of what terms they were all on lest the balance of the universe be upset. He shuddered at the realization that if his journey in the spirit realm had ended in failure that he could have caused something far more catastrophic than whatever Xornoth would bring to occur.

Then came sadness at the thought of how many of the recorded deaths were by his own hand? He’d been told of the arena fight, how he’d gone on a murder spree when the corruption took control over him entirely...

"I had a feeling you’d show up eventually.” Came a familiar voice, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sausage turned to face the speaker and found the Copper King himself casually leaning against the wall of a building that looked like a shop of sorts.

Sausage wasn’t surprised that he’d been expected, Pix was a unique individual in the fact that he was an oracle not only with the ability to see deaths seconds before they happened, but he would sometimes get prophetic visions every now and again. He was a wise and kind ruler, albeit with a streak of mischief at times as well. The man no doubt had questions about Sausage’s recent death by Gem’s hand and his delayed respawn, but that’s not why the Mythland king had come to see him.

After the death of the enderdragon, the Copper King had exiled himself in his guilt and regret, heading into the harshness of the desert with almost nothing but the clothes on his back. Signs of his struggle could be seen in the form of scars and burns. This, is why Sausage had come.

“I’m...probably not at the top of your list of people to see right now...but I...I need guidance, Pix. I don’t know how to cope with what I’m feeling.”

Pix gave him a gentle smile, “Come, we’ll discuss it inside.”

The interior of Pix’s abode was something Sausage had only seen once and, at the time, he’d not been in complete control of his body and actions. Now that the haze in his mind was gone, the place was stunning. Sandstone and striped birch made up walls accented with copper. The sandstone and glazed terracotta floor accented with dried honeycomb, desert plants filling pots nestled into corners and on shelves. It was a humble place as opposed to the massive castles and towers of the other empires.

He sat down at an oak table while Pix went off to grab something, returning with a glass of water which Sausage graciously accepted. Pix then sat down opposite of him and spoke "So, since you sit here now, I assume your trip to the spirit realm was successful?“

Of course Pix would know about that, “I think so? I don’t feel corrupted anymore and the haze that used to cloud my mind is gone so...maybe? I...still don’t understand how going there cured me.”

“In Pixandrian beleif, those with damaged souls go there to heal or pass on. Xornoth corrupted yours entirely and when Gem killed you, that’s where you ended up. You were dead to the world for a week, Sausage; the only sign that you were going to come back was because that spirit tether of yours was glowing.”

Sausage pulled the strange object he’d been given by Sir Carlos out and looked at it, “That’s what this thing is called?”

Pix nodded in response, “Most souls that end up in the spirit realm pass on while others get lost and eventually fade away over time. A spirit tether ensures that a soul will find its way back to its body. They are extremely rare so I was surprised to find you had one.”

“A friend gave it to me...I guess I quite literally owe him my life. But my spiritual journey is not why I came here; I see the way everyone looks at me, to them I’m still the servant of evil, Xornoth’s corrupted Champion. I have nightmares of what I’ve done and who I’ve hurt, I have permanent scars to remind me of my mistakes...there’s so much guilt and regret, Pix...I don’t know what to do.”

"Guilt and regret are hard wounds to heal; even now, I still cannot forgive myself for what I did to the enderdragon and, honestly, I don’t think I ever will. Speak with those you wronged, even if they don’t believe you at first. It will take time and effort to fix what has been broken and there will be scarring that remains once the wound heals, but I know you, Sausage, and you’re pretty hard to stay mad at for very long.”

A pained smile crossed Sausage’s mouth at those words, “Even though I’ve caused so much greif and pain?”

"I don’t speak for the others, but the way I see it, if we’re going to stop Xornoth, we need to be united. The sooner we put our quarrels aside, the sooner we can deal with him.”

“Joey is still drunk with power and praise and I’m pretty sure that crown of his is messing with his mind somehow. We need to save him first, Pix, before he’s too far gone for us to do anything.”

Pix nodded, “Agreed. But, for now, you’ve traveled a long way to get here. Why don’t you stay in Pixandria for the night and head off to Mythland to make amends with the others in the morning?”

As if in agreement Sausage yawned, “Alright, thank you Pix, for everything. And...I’m sorry for the embassy trap but you did kinda ask for us to do better pranks.”

A laugh escaped the Copper King at the comment, his brown eyes glinting with mischief, "I did, didn’t I? Well, you know me, my retaliation will be tenfold so I hope you’re ready, Sausage.”

Sausage let out a chuckle and a sly smirk, “Bring it on, Copper King.”

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 37: Sweet First

Read on AO3

Read chapter 37 on tumblr below the cut

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Chapter 37: Sweet First 

*** Murtagh knew a guy. Of course he did— Jamie reasoned to himself— it wasn’t that crazy that Murtagh had connections to some black market guy who could get them a falsified birth certificate and passport… right? It left a sour feeling in Jamie’s stomach, but as long as it meant they could get Claire to be— well— a person who existed, he had firmly decided not to look the gift horse in the mouth. 

He was sitting at the kitchen table, pieces of paper in front of him where he was writing down the information to give to Murtagh, who would then pass it along to his connection. Claire, in typical Claire fashion, was behaving like a melted candle. For some reason that was beyond Jamie, his wife was sitting on the floor beside his chair with her upper body spread over him so her head was in his lap. Jamie was stroking her hair with his free hand, his touch almost absent as he came up with details for her past. She was so content to simply be with him and quietly accepted his touch without any hint of impatience. 

“When’s yer birthday?” Jamie asked as he reached that line. 

“Hmm?” Claire raised her head from his lap to regard him with a puzzled look, her curls sticking up around her from Jamie’s ministrations. 

He chuckled and smoothed them back for her, taking a detour to caress her cheek. She was so endearing it nearly hurt. 

“When were ye born? What day?” 

Claire closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. “Oh, I haven’t the faintest idea.” 

Jamie started, withdrawing his hand abruptly and causing Claire’s eyes to pop open, her bubble of peace popping as he looked up at Jamie, equally startled. 

“Ye dinna ken yer birthday?” he asked, feeling a tug in the pit of his stomach. 

“No…” Claire was regarding him with a wary expression, “I mean, my parents may have told me about the day I was born when I was young, but I certainly don’t remember now. Why does it matter?” 

Jamie couldn’t help the clenching in his lungs. “It matters because it was the day ye came into this world…” he began, bringing his hand back to stroke her hair again as she looked up at him with those impossibly big eyes, “and I am verra grateful for that day.”

His mind wandered back to all the birthdays spent with his family and friends, all the times he’d felt special and loved. His family had always made a big deal out of birthdays, and to this day, they held such weight for him. 

“Besides,” he added, “humans use them for legal purposes quite often. They are a part of one’s identity.” 

All Claire had to say was, “Oh. But I don’t have one…” 

An idea began to form in Jamie’s head, so he reached down for Claire’s hands. She took them, and Jamie pulled her up from the floor so they were standing face to face. 

“Well then,” he said, beginning to smile broadly, “I guess today is as good as any. Happy Birthday, lass.” 

He leaned in to kiss her, tender and sweet. Claire, always happy to kiss him, eagerly returned it, but Jamie was certain that she still didn’t quite get the whole concept of birthdays nor the sentiment that Jamie was pouring into his touch. 

When they pulled back, Jamie tucked a curl behind her ear, smiling fondly at her. 

“October 20th it is then.” 

***

A few hours later, Claire sat on the couch petting Adso, waiting for her husband to get back from dropping the papers off at Murtagh’s. She was ready for a nice quiet evening, hoping that they could turn on the television and she could snuggle up at Jamie’s side until she fell asleep and he carried her up to bed. She could already imagine the alluring warmth of his body and her eyelids began to droop. 

At that moment, the door swung open, the bulk of her husband pushing through the door. 

“Jamie!” she greeted warmly, starting to rise from the couch. 

“Stay there, a nighean,” he called. 

His back was to her as he seemed to be struggling to bring things in. 

“You don’t need help?” she asked, not-so-discreetly eying the muscles under his shirt as his back flexed. 

“No, it’s alright.” 

He had disappeared into the kitchen before Claire even had a chance to reply. She was still sleepy enough that she wouldn’t protest his refusal of her help. With a contented sigh, she leaned back against the couch again. 

She must have dozed a bit because the next thing she knew, Jamie was singing— singing!— in his terribly endearing off-pitch voice, and when she opened her eyes, he was approaching her with something…

“Jamie!” she squealed, scrambling up to her knees, ready to bolt, “you’re on fire!” 

Jamie himself wasn’t on fire, to be fair, but he was holding something round and soft looking in his hands, and up from the object sprung licks of flame. 

Claire wasn’t sure whether to run toward him and throw herself on him in an attempt to save him or just bolt and let him follow after her. Either way, her fear made her feet feel cold and she found herself frozen in place and staring at her husband in horror. 

“It’s alright,” Jamie was laughing. Laughing! 

Why was he laughing when there was fire inside his house? 

He had stopped in his tracks, his bizarre singing gone quiet, and was looking at her with the softest expression. She was still trembling, and his eerily calm attitude was doing nothing to help ease her. Had he lost his mind? 

“Why are you laughing?” she demanded, letting go of the side of the couch where she’d been clutching it so she could spring to her feet. 

“Sorry, lass. I wanted to surprise ye but I likely shouldha explained the tradition first,” Jamie said, still ignoring the fire in his hands as if it wasn’t a big deal. 

Claire furrowed her brows but stayed quiet in an attempt to get him to continue his explanation. 

“Since it’s yer birthday today,” Jamie said with a tone that left no room for argument, “I’m showing you the human traditions for birthdays. This here is a birthday cake, a type of food. We put candles— these wee things—” Jamie gestured to the sticks of fire, his hand getting dangerously close in a way that made Claire’s breath catch, “on top and light them on fire. The birthday lass, or laddie, uses their breath tae blow them out. And when they do, they make a wish for the coming year. After that, everyone gets tae eat the cake!”

Seeing her dubious expression, he quickly added, “it’s perfectly safe, dinna fash.”

Claire felt rather overwhelmed by the information and had to stop herself from commenting at how awfully strange it was. How did humans come up with such a thing? And why?

But she bravely gave a nod, and Jamie drew closer so that he could grab her hand and give it a squeeze. 

“Now,” Jamie said, assuming his air of playful authority, “let’s try this again. And this time, ye’ll listen to the birthday song. And when it’s over, ye’ll blow out the candles, aye?” 

Claire had no choice but to acquiesce and indulge his whims. She sat back down on the couch to wait patiently. 

Her husband turned around and disappeared into the kitchen again, only to come out a second later, singing joyfully off-key in the same way he had earlier. He came toward her with measured steps, carefully balancing the “cake,” with his eyes fixed on hers as he sang. She found herself blushing at his attention, almost embarrassed as he sang to her. 

He set it down on the coffee table in front of her as the song drew to the end. 

“Blow out the candles, a nighean,” he urged quietly. 

Claire leaned forward and blew all the breath in her lungs out in a whoosh. The little fires blew out, and when she straightened up again, Jamie looked delighted. 

Before she knew what was happening, Jamie had leaned over the cake and taken her lips with his, and she found herself kissing a very enthusiastic human. His hands tangled in the small curls at the nape of her neck as he pulled her closer. Her own hands wandered down his chest as she kissed him back, every hint of sleepiness gone. She started to lean closer to him when she felt her side bump something. Jamie drew back with a gasp and she opened her eyes just in time to see the cake teetering on the edge of the coffee table. Quick as a flash, Jamie had grabbed it and righted it again. He looked up at her with a sheepish smile as he straightened it on the table. 

“Sorry, lass, I may have gotten a wee bit carried away. I jes’ love tae celebrate you.” 

“Well, I can’t eat this anyway, perhaps we skip that part of the tradition and…” she trailed off, reaching for his hand to lace their fingers together. 

“What?” Jamie asked cheekily, “what are you suggesting?” 

The look on his face showed he very much knew what she was suggesting, the bastard. 

“As much as I enjoy your little human traditions, I think I’ve had enough learning for today…” She refused to give him the satisfaction of begging. 

“Whatever the birthday girl wishes,” Jamie’s smile was growing impossibly wider. 

“That’s part of the celebration, isn’t it?” Claire gestured to the cake in front of them, “making a wish?” 

“Och, aye,” Jamie confirmed with an enthusiastic nod. 

“Want to know what I wished for?” 

Claire stood and made her way around so that she could slide back down against Jamie’s side, pressing her lips to his ear. 

“I’ll tell you what I wished for…” she whispered into his ear so that her breath tickled the sensitive skin. 

A shiver went down his spine, and she giggled at the resulting vibration. 

“Nae, lass, humans believe if ye share yer wish with another that it willna come true,” Jamie forced out the words through what sounded like a very dry throat, “and it seems to me that I would verra much like for this wish tae come true.” 

“Well if I can’t tell you…” she let her tongue flick out to taste his neck, brief and teasing, “how about I show you?” 

“Aye. As ye say, my birthday, lass.” 

***

A short while later, Claire laid beside Jamie in bed, wearing nothing but her opal. Jamie looked blissed out, his eyes soft and glazed as he stared at her, his curls mussed where they lay on the pillow. 

“Did we make yer wish come true, lass?” he asked fondly. 

“Very much so,” Claire laughed, reaching out to run her hands through his soft hair. She let her fingers scrape against his scalp, and he let out a sigh. 

“I’m supposed to be the one spoilin’ you,” he protested weakly, but he had melted impossibly further at her touch. 

“If you haven’t noticed, I like touching you,” she breathed. 

They were both still laying flat, heads inches apart on the pillow and gazing at each other. It took all of Claire’s strength just to get her arm raised enough to continue petting Jamie’s hair. Her thumb wandered lower to graze his eyebrow before brushing back his curls again, and Jamie let out another contented exhale. 

He inched closer so he could press his lips against hers again, savoring the kiss for a long moment. She stilled her hand and instead clutched his head to keep him close. 

“I have somethin’ for you,” he whispered against her lips. 

“Oh?” 

She rolled her head back on the pillow and gave him a smile with brows raised in expectancy. Jamie withdrew, getting out of bed (and giving her quite the view), to grab something from the dresser. 

Sitting up, Claire felt excitement return the strength to her limbs. Jamie perched himself on the bed next to her, his hand wrapped around whatever it was he wanted to give her. 

“Turn around,” he rumbled in a soft, low voice. 

She did, facing away from him, and a second later, she felt something light lay across her chest and his fingers tickle over the back of her neck. 

Before even looking down, she faced Jamie again, and then finally tilted her head down to look at the gift. 

Resting right above the opal on her chest was another necklace made of two gold hearts with a tiny pearl set in the middle of each. 

Her mouth fell open and she looked up at her husband with shining eyes. 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. 

Jamie reached out to tenderly cup her cheek as he spoke. “The opal is a symbol of all ye lost and had tae give up. I wanted ye to have a symbol of what was gained. You hold my whole heart, Claire. Both of ours. Safe in yer hands. It’s yours forever, mo ghraidh.” 

The tears she had been trying to hold back must have been glistening in her eyes, because Jamie thumb gently swiped at the corners. 

“Thank you, Jamie,” she raised her hand to place it over the necklace, pressing the metal into her bare skin and thinking of the weight that it held. She caressed her thumb back and forth over the precious gift. “I love it. I love you.” 

“Happy first birthday, mo chridhe,” he breathed.

***

Next

[samanthadalton]

So we meet again part 2

since a few of you guys wanted a part 2 i thought i would give it a go, hope you enjoy. I wanted to do a mix between past and present so i’ve stated which parts are the past etc also there’ll be a part 3 which will be the finale, I’ll write that soon 💜

pairings: Poppy x Bea 

taglist: @cloud9in @somewillwin @alleycat97 @baexpoppy @save-me-the-last-dance @helpconfusedpersonhere @dopeyouth @iamsimpforpoppy @alexlabhont @thedaft1 @veenast @cloakanddaggerthings 

wordcount: 3.4k 

slightly NSFW also there might be swearing, i can’t remember tbh (it’s like 2am rn im sorry) 

also part 1 is here in case you need a refresher💜

--------

Bea and Poppy roll around in the bed, playfully, as Bea peppers kisses all over Poppy’s body, while pressing her body into the mattress. 

“Bea that tickles.” 

“Really?” Bea removes her hands from Poppy’s wrists and begins tickling her sides. 

“Please..stop..” Poppy says in between giggles and huffs. Eventually Bea moves her hands and is met with a pillow smashing into her face. 

“OW!” Bea cries out, as she rubs her face, a hint of a smile ghosts on her face. 

“I told you I hate being tickled,” Poppy huffs, expertly hiding her smile as Bea continues rubbing her face. “I’m sorry. Want me to kiss it better?” Bea pouts, nodding her head as she inches forward puckering her lips. Poppy rolls her eyes, placing a chaste kiss on Bea’s lips and just as she pulls away, Bea crashes her lips back into hers, eliciting a moan from the strawberry blonde. 

“That’s a kiss,” Bea teases, in retort Poppy playfully shoves her before leaning against the headboard. Bea lays her head on the pillow, shifting her body to face her girlfriend. “Hey can I ask you something?” 

“You’ll ask even if I say no,” Poppy jests. 

Bea leans up on her elbows, her expression sobering, “look Pops, these last two months have been amazing but I want to take you out on a real date.” 

Poppy groans, “not this again Bea.” 

“Hey, hey, let me finish,” Bea says pleadingly, Poppy rubs her temples, her silence indicating for Bea to continue, “I like what we have right now, just chilling and making out and stuff but I want to take you out on a real date. Somewhere public where I can show you off and make random strangers jealous of me because I’m dating the prettiest girl ever. All of this sneaking around is just reminding me of college.” 

*Flashback* 

As Bea climbs through Poppy’s window, her leg gets caught  in the curtains and she tumbles onto the floor, as the items on Poppy’s desk, plummet to the ground. 

“God damn it Farmsville, why not alert the entire sorority of your presence?” 

“Geez, it was an accident,” Bea dusts herself off, before picking up the fallen items and placing them back. “So what the hell is so urgent that you have me in your room at 1am and why couldn’t I go through the front door?” 

“Ew, don’t say it like that.” Poppy scrunches her nose up in disgust, “it’s not like that.”

“So why am I here?” 

“You’re number 1 at Belvoire now, think of this as my final consultation before you officially become queen.” 

“I was named queen the second they gave me the award, and I certainly don’t need any advice you have to offer.” 

Poppy visibly becomes irritated, her face etches into a scowl, “remember that I ruled this school for 3 years, and judging by recent events like your little plight with Kingsley, you’ve already got some enemies. Remember heavy is the head that wears the crown.” 

Bea lets out a humourless laugh, “don’t worry I have a plan.” Poppy raises an eyebrow, intrigued, “I’ll do the opposite of everything you did. I won’t backstab my friends, I won’t be a bitch to everyone and I’ll treat everyone with kindness and respect.” 

“Don’t forget Hughes, it was exactly that kind of subterfuge that got you in my spot in the first place.” 

“No, it helped me get into the top 15 I’ll admit, but everything else was careful strategy and just being a decent human being. You would be surprised how many people were desperate for your reign of tyranny to end.”

Poppy huffs, “funny how you act like people hate me so much when they would do anything just for a fraction of my attention.” Poppy takes a step forward, a sneer expression on her face. 

Bea snorts, “get off your high horse.” 

“Eurgh no farm jokes.” 

“I- I’m not going to even comment. So is that all you wanted or was there something else?” 

“What else do you think I want?” 

“I thought this was going to be about what happened at the fountain.” Poppy freezes for a split second, a blush creeping up on her cheeks, her mouth hangs open but no words come out. “Oh come on Pops, don’t act like you haven’t thought about what happened at least once or twice over the summer,” Bea flashes a smug grin which seems to bring Poppy back to reality. 

“Please,” she scoffs, “you’re giving yourself too much credit, that kiss was mediocre at best.”  

Bea raises an eyebrow, “liar.” Bea takes a step forward, “That kiss was mind-blowingly good. So good that on the first day back at Belvoire, you needed to make up a dumb excuse for me to sneak up to your room at 1am.” Poppy presses her lips together in a thin line, her eyes carefully roam Bea’s, waiting. Without any hesitation, Bea places her hands on Poppy’s hips, pulling her close to her as she presses her lips against Poppy’s, desire instantly building between the two of them. 

Poppy feels her eyes rolling to the back of her head, as Bea peppers kisses on her neck, and has to stifle a moan when Bea runs her tongue over her jaw. 

“Bea…stop with the foreplay.” Poppy feels Bea’s lips quirk up against her neck, but Bea continues kissing her neck, only frustrating Poppy more. “God Farmsville,” Poppy growls, she pushes Bea away from her and pulls her towards her bed, before straddling her lap. 

“Taking charge?” 

“I always take charge,” Poppy retorts, her lips ghosting around Bea’s until she playfully bites Bea’s bottom lip before sucking on it. “But I’m feeling nice today,” Poppy runs her forefinger down Bea’s body, evoking goosebumps, “so maybe I’ll let you be in control, just this once.” 

“So you’re planning on doing this again?” Bea teases as her lips quirk up into a wide grin as she flips their positions, pushing the strawberry blonde deep into her mattress, already locked in a passionate embrace before Poppy can retort. Bea places her hands around Poppy’s wrists placing her above her head, her eyes piercing into Poppy’s as she does so, in an attempt to demonstrate her dominance. Just as she leans in for another kiss, a loud series of knocks breaks them apart. 

“Hey P, you up?” Veronica’s voice rings through the room. 

Poppy silently motions for Bea to leave as she erratically flaps her arms towards the window. Bea wordlessly runs to the window and just as she’s about to climb out Poppy whispers, “don’t tell anyone about this, now hurry up.” 

*Present* 

Poppy averts her gaze from Bea, a guilty look on her face, “I’m sorry but college was different. I wasn’t ready for the world to know about us, I mean I barely understood what I felt for you.” 

Bea stares at Poppy with a hopeful look in her eyes, “but now you do.” She takes one of Poppy’s hands in hers, “look there’s no expectation to be super fancy, we can do something lowkey, just so we get a feel of being out together in public.” 

Poppy sighs, “fine.” Bea’s face lights up and Poppy can’t help but feel the butterflies in her stomach, “so where were you thinking?”

“I was thinking we would go to my restaurant.” 

“Digne d'une reine? That’s kinda high maintenance no?” 

“No, I meant Farmsville. I think it’s time for you to see the restaurant which you inspired.” 

Poppy bites her bottom lip, unable to stop herself from smiling, “okay.” 

……

A few weeks later, Poppy and Bea finally find the time out of their busy schedules to have their first date. As Bea leads Poppy into the small diner, Poppy stands awkwardly to the side as Bea leads her into one of the booths in the back. Poppy’s gaze darts around the room, wondering why the restaurant is so busy on a Sunday evening. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” Bea calls out to Poppy who looks lost in her own thoughts. 

“Yeah, great,” Poppy gives her girlfriend a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, as she nervously darts her gaze around the room, feeling as if all eyes are of them. 

Bea senses Poppy’s discomfort and reaches over the table, taking Poppy’s hand in hers, “hey if you wanna go…” 

Poppy violently shakes her head no, “no, I said it’s fine Bea.” She pulls her hand out of Bea’s and sits in silence until the waitress approaches the table handing the girls’ a menu each. 

“Hey Bea,” the waitress flashes the girl a bright smile, as she stands with a notebook in her hand. 

“Hey Cecila, how’s it going today?” 

“Not bad, it’s been kinda busy, but we miss seeing your face around here.” 

Bea lets out a small chuckle, “Don’t worry I’ll be back next week for a bit. I’m just glad we have you looking out for this place here otherwise it would’ve gone down in flames, literally. Jerry would’ve accidentally set fire to the kitchen if it wasn’t for you.” 

The waitress lets out a boisterous laugh, causing Poppy to furrow her brows as she reaches over, possessively interlacing her hand with Bea’s. “Hmm, funny.” The women stop laughing and look over to see Poppy’s unimpressed face. Bea expertly hides her smirk as she realises what’s going on. 

“Cecila,” Bea clears her throat, “this is Poppy-” 

“The girlfriend,” Poppy interjects. 

Cecilia gives Poppy a bright smile, “I was wondering when I was going to meet you! Bea would not stop talking our ears off about you.” Cecile playfully pushes Bea shoulder with her hand, “and she told me you were gorgeous but you are even more beautiful in person.” 

“Thanks,” Poppy bluntly replies, twirling a strand of her hair. 

“Well I’ll come back in a few minutes so y’all can look over the menu in the meantime.” Cecile gives a polite smile before moving to the next table. Once she’s gone, Poppy slips her hand out of Bea’s, but just as she lets go, Bea grabs her wrist pulling it back, a wide grin plastered on her face. 

“You’re jealous,” she says matter of factly. 

Poppy scoffs, “I don’t do jealousy, shut up.” 

Bea smiles, clearly enjoying herself, “yeah you are.” Poppy stares daggers at Bea, a scowl appearing on her face, “you don’t have to worry, I don’t think Cecile’s husband and kid would appreciate her leaving them for me.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, she’s super straight, and married.” 

“Oh,” a blush appears on Poppy’s face as she looks away embarrassed. The strawberry blonde pulls away her hand as Bea loosens her grip on her wrist. 

“This isn’t the first time you’ve been jealous.” 

Poppy raises an unimpressed eyebrow at her girlfriend, “what the hell are you talking about?” 

“Come on, the Christmas party? Don’t tell me you don’t tell me you don’t remember.” 

*Flashback*

As the months went on, Bea and Poppy would meet up a couple of times a week for casual sex. They had set some ground rules, they can only meet up in Poppy’s bedroom, no cuddling afterwards, Bea would either have to sneak out through Poppy’s window or through the back door of the sorority if everyone else was asleep, and  no feelings could be involved. Poppy had been adamant to Bea about how sex was only a release for her frustrations and for the girl not to read too much into it because it meant nothing. But the Christmas party was just the beginning of the lines starting to blur. 

Just as Bea enters the frat house, she takes in the spirited atmosphere of the party, the loud thumping bass music, drumming in her ears as she makes her way over to the drinks station, pouring a drink for her and Zoey. 

“It’s really loud!” Bea shouts over the music. 

“What?” Zoey replies, as she takes one of the cups from Bea’s hands. 

“What?” 

“Yeah totally. Hey I’ll catch up with you soon, there’s a super cute girl over there.” Zoey lumbers over to the other side of the room, leaving the girl on her own. For a while she mingles with a few different groups, an obligation for the queen of Belvoire, but when Veronica begins not so subtly flirting with Bea, she can’t help but flirt back, especially when Veronica looks this good. 

They standing in the corner of the living room, as Veronica begins whispering into Bea’s ear about the party and how idiotic the football team look while playing strip pong but when Poppy walks through the living room in a skin tight pink dress, all rational thoughts are thrown out of the window for Bea. 

As if she can feel the girl’s eyes on her, Poppy swings her hips slightly as she walks past, a glimmer of a smile of her face, as Bea’s eyes follow her until Veronica breaks her out of her reverie. 

“You okay?” 

Bea deftly glances at Poppy to see her casually talking with Chloe, paying no attention to her, “yeah I’m good. Dance with me?” She holds out her hand which Veronica accepts as Bea leads her into the makeshift dance floor. Veronica presses her body against Bea’s, her hips grinding into Bea’s front, Bea places her hands on Veronica’s hips, only enhancing the friction between them. 

Poppy looks over to see Bea and Veronica dancing together as feels a burning sensation in her chest, it wasn’t jealousy, she wouldn’t admit to that but she did not enjoy seeing Veronica rubbing herself all over Bea. She leaves the house pulling up Bea’s contact info and texting the girl to meet her in her room asap. 

“I’ll grab us some drinks.” Bea nods as Veronica stalks off towards the drinks table and when she feels her phone buzzing in her pocket, she pulls it out to see a bunch of messages from Poppy saying it’s an emergency. Bea makes her way to the door but Veronica steps in front of her, 2 cups in her hands. 

“Are you leaving?” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I just have to be somewhere,” Bea darts out of the house, leaving an abandoned Veronica who stands near the front door, confused.

“What’s the emergency?” Bea pants as she runs into Poppy’s room, not bothering to knock, while Poppy is standing near the door and is almost rammed over by Bea. Without a word, Poppy pulls Bea in for a kiss, her hands eagerly hooking around Bea’s neck. 

“Hey, wait,” Bea pulls away, anger written in her face, “what the hell Pops, just stop for a second.” Bea slightly pushes the strawberry blonde back, as she looks down on her. 

“Just please Farmsville, no talking, just kiss me,” Poppy replies, her tone almost begging, almost. 

Bea hesitates slightly, she’s not used to seeing Poppy so desperate, but she gives in. Poppy kisses Bea with urgency, her tongue already tangling with Bea’s, as she moans softly into Bea’s mouth. Bea guides Poppy to the bed, still locked in a kiss as she runs her hands down Poppy’s body, before she moves her hands to her back and begins unzipping her. 

“In a hurry Farmsville?” 

“As sexy as you look in this dress, you look even hotter without it.” Poppy doesn’t say anything but she gives Bea a smile as Bea’s hands continue wandering all over her body. Bea’s fingers ghost around Poppy’s inner thigh, causing the strawberry blonde to squirm slightly, as her hips rise off the bed. 

“Hughes please,” captivated by her pleading, Bea gives her, her thumb begins circling around Poppy’s button as her fingers just tease her entrance. 

“Say my name,” Bea whispers in a low gruff voice and unhesitantly, Poppy moans out Bea’s name. Bea pumps her fingers into Poppy, as she kisses her intensely, even after she feels Poppy’s juices all over her fingers, she continues moving against her, letting her ride out her orgasm. Once Poppy slumps down on the bed, Bea places her fingers in her mouth, tasting Poppy’s desire before pulling the strawberry blonde in for one more kiss. Bea remembers the rules and slides off the bed looking for her clothes before Poppy’s soft voice calls out to her. 

“Stay.” 

“What?” 

“Did I stutter? Stay, it’s late so you might as well stay.” 

“That’s not in the rules.” 

Poppy becomes irritated as she frowns at Bea, “I was just trying to be nice but whatever, leave if you want.” 

Bea knits her eyebrows together, unsure of what to do but against her better instincts she slides back under the covers, while maintaining a safe and wide gap between her and Poppy. “Thanks,” she mumbles out as Poppy just hums in response. 

The atmosphere becomes dense with awkwardness, as they lay in the bed together, unfamiliar with this territory. It isn’t until Bea speaks out that the silence is broken. 

“Hey can I ask you something?” 

Poppy sighs heavily, “even if I say no you’ll still probably ask.” 

“Probably.” The girls slip back into silence until Bea turns on her side, facing the strawberry blonde. “Why did you pull me away from the party?” 

Poppy shrugs, “I was sexually frustrated and our agreement consists of us letting out those frustrations.” 

“But you seemed pretty okay to me, I mean I saw you talking with Chloe and then I was dancing with Veronica and-” Bea falls silent, realisation dawning on her. “You’re jealous.” 

“You know what, I changed my mind, get out.” 

“Come on, I was just dancing with Veronica, I wasn’t going to sleep with her.” 

Poppy glares at Bea as she narrows her eyes, “whatever. I don’t care what you do with her anyway.” 

“Sure.” 

The girls fall back into an awkward silence until Bea feels sleep creeping up on her. Just as she closes her eyes, she hears Poppy’s voice. 

“Bea, you awake?” 

“Hmm?” Bea humans quietly. 

“You awake?” Poppy whispers. 

“Yeah, I am,” she replies, fighting back a yawn, “what’s up?” 

“What do you wanna do once college is over?” 

Bea purses her lips in thought, “it’s kinda stupid, you’ll laugh.” 

“I probably will but tell me anyways.” 

Bea lets out a short laugh, “I've always wanted to own a restaurant.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah.” Bea turns over to face Poppy, she can only make out a few of her features in the dark, but she sees Poppy’s big brown doe eyes staring straight into hers, “I’ve found food as my comfort. My family loved to cook, and growing up on a farm meant we were surrounded by fresh ingredients everywhere. My mom actually taught me how to cook and I’ve been using them as guinea pigs to test out new recipes ever since.” Bea can see a smile appearing on Poppy’s face and can’t help but smile back as she reminisces about the past. “So what about you?” 

“My fate has already been written out for me. Take over the Min Sinclair business and rule the world basically.” 

“Is that it? You’ve never had any other dream?” Poppy shrugs. “Come on, there must be something.” 

Poppy sighs, “I like to draw.” 

“Really? Do you have anything you can show me?” 

“As if Farmsville, it’s private.” 

“Fine, it was worth a try.” 

The girls fall back into silence, only this time it isn’t awkward, it’s almost refreshing. After that night, their nights weren’t always physical, sometimes they would sit there and talk about everything and nothing, and they shared things even their closest friends didn’t even know about each other. 

*Present*

“I was not jealous.” 

“Fine, whatever you say.” 

As the date continues, Poppy visibly relaxes, enjoying the atmosphere of the restaurant as well as the company, as soon she forgets all her earlier doubts and begins truly enjoying herself as she laughs along to Bea’s stupid jokes while telling a few stories and jokes herself. Once Bea pays the bill, after fighting with Poppy for five minutes about wanting to be the perfect gentlewoman, Bea takes Poppy’s hand in hers and leads her to the exit of the restaurant. 

“I have a surprise for you.” She gestures to the huge blank wall at the entrance of Farmsville. “Surprise!” 

Poppy raises an eyebrow confused, “it’s a blank wall wow,” she says her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Well it is for now until,” she twists Poppy around, pulling her back to her front, as she whispers against her neck, “you work your magical artist skills and turn it into something beautiful.” 

Poppy gasps as she turns to face Bea, “wait you’re letting me paint it?” 

“Yep, even though you didn’t show me any of your work, I know you’ll do something amazing here, I’ll even pay you if you want.” 

Poppy shakes her head, pulling Bea in for a long kiss, “you’re the best you know that.” 

“Yeah I am pretty awesome.” Poppy grins pulling Bea in for another kiss.