#but I imagine him sitting in the forest on a clear night. the sounds of the forest are comforting.

[anindecisivespirit]

(Trollhunters spoilers!)

Angor Rot really did deserve better.

His soul was stolen and he was basically a slave for who even knows how long, and then every time he died (except the last) he was forcefully brought right back to serve again.

He tried to work with Jim, made a deal that would benifit both of them greatly- and sure, we can't know for sure if he would have honored his end of things, but I do believe he would've. Like. At this point, he has nothing really personal against Jim- maybe Claire after she took the staff but that's not quite important here. He does have VERY personal problems with Strickler and Morgana (who Gunmar serves and is going to free if he gets out, which Strickler's plans were leading to)- so severing the soulbond with Barbara and killing Strickler would be easy, bring justice to Strickler and prevent Morgana's return. Also, it is a very good "thanks for my soul back (sort of), sorry for trying to slaughter you and your friends, lets never interact again" gift for Jim.

He flipped out and attacked Jim but 1) in his perspective Jim just suddenly appeared in his cave and that's not cool. 2) Jim was very clearly going to try and put the ring on, so I am not going to be blaming Angor for trying to stop/kill him before he could. The man just wants to be free.

He very clearly hates everything Morgana and Gunmar do, though he does stay with them- and sure, he can't be controlled anymore but what was he meant to do? Morgana would have dragged him back if he left and killed/imprisoned/controlled him if he fought against them. I'm sure about this. But he still voices disagreements, he still calls them out, he still saves Draal after empathizing with him.

And then there's the final battle with Morgana, and Angor betrays her. At this point he does have solid reason to hate Jim and all his friends, but stopping Morgana is leagues more important. I don't think he would've turned on them if he'd survived after she was defeated either, I think he'd want to rest. To finally, for once, rest.

But he doesn't survive. Instead, Jim kills him- or at least starts the process. Sure, Angor was restraining Morgana and it was an opportunity that they could not miss, but. Did he have to impale them both? Did he really? Angor isn't even mad, he accepts it, gives a last line, "well played, trollhunter", he might even approve. But did it have to happen? Morgana may finish the job, but he was already dying. The pieces of his statue are, if I remember correctly, sent into the shadow realm.

And then. They don't even kill Morgana. Not because they didn't want to, it's because they couldn't, and I accept that, but. It feels so bitter. It's unfair.

And what happened to Morgana? She's trapped in the shadow realm, imprisoned in the very same place where Angor now lays dead, in pieces. The Witch and her Champion, inseparable even now. (and if she managed to revive him again? a nightmare.)

And maybe the worst thing is what we see in Wizards; they go back in time, Morgana begins her descent into villainy, and she's cast off a cliff into the water below. Dead. And Angor finds her. In this time of war and hate and bloodshed, in this time humans and magic are at each others throats, when Angor has no reason to sympathize with a human... he carries her body to shore.

Angor cares. Angor is kind. Angor doesn't see a fallen enemy or collateral damage- and also, trolls eat humans, Gunmar talks about this, but Angor doesn't fish Morgana's body from the water to eat as if she were some fish or something. Not even close.

He takes her because even if she's dead already she should be shown this respect at least. He lays her on the bank, he prays for her in death, and then he leaves. And the Arcane Order take her body, so easy to find and reach thanks to Angor, and they bring her back to life.

They bring her back and she rises to power and eventually Angor comes to her for help, and we all know how that ends.

Angor cared for the soul of a stranger, and so got his taken away.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Moonlit Baths

A tad bit of angst in this one, it seems I can never escape from writing angst.

Summary: You and Astarion spend a moment in a pool under the moonlight.

This was the first peaceful night you have had in a very long while. Usually, the camp would be full of energy, filled with banter courtesy of Wyll and Gale, filled with snide remarks courtesy of Shadowheart and Lae’zel while Karlach watched in amusement, waiting for a fight to break out so that she could cheer them on but tonight, tonight everyone was far too worn out and had immediately headed to their tents after dinner.

So you took this chance to head to the small pool nearby on your own, soaking in the water underneath the moonlight amidst the sound of the forest in the night sounded good. Quickly stripping yourself, you sank into the crystal clear water, letting out a sigh of relief as the coolness of the water seeped into your muscles, causing them to relax. You let your head rest on the stones surrounding the pool, eyes closing as you let yourself drift off, ears filled with the mindless sound of the insects in the forest. After such a hectic day, the slow and calm pace of the night was a very welcomed relief.

“So that’s where you ran off to, darling.” A voice snaps you out of your stupor. You reluctantly open your eyes, blearily trying to make out the figure standing over you.

“Astarion,” you mumble tiredly, recognising the curly hair and sultry voice anywhere.

“You look rather lonely in there, mind if I join you?” He’s already stripping before you can answer him, causing you to snort.

“At least wait until I’ve said something before stripping, star.” It’s not the first time you’ve seen him naked but you avert your eyes all the same to at least give him some sense of privacy.

“Why wait when I already know the answer? After all, you can never resist my company can you, my love?” You feel his cold fingers on your face and smile, opening your eyes to the sight of your vampire lover’s signature smirk. Lifting your hand out of the water, you rest it on his and lean into the touch, nuzzling his hand.

“Wouldn’t trade it for the world,” you mumble happily. His fingers may be a little cold, being the undead vampire he is but it’s his cold fingers and the chill they bring always manages to warm you up on the inside.

Astarion freezes momentarily, still unused to your sincere words of affection and gives you a reassuring smile when you look at him with concern in your eyes. He moves closer to you, never letting go of your cheek and presses his forehead against yours, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding which tickles your skin. The water laps at both your necks, disturbed only by the small movements of your arms as you wrap them around him, basking in his scent of bergamot, rosemary and brandy.

“Darling –”

“Shh, there’s no need to talk. Enjoy the moment,” you gently press a kiss to the corner of his lips. He blinks, surprised but complies anyways. He still doesn’t understand what’s so fun about sitting in silence and doing absolutely nothing, but you seem to enjoy it so he has no complaints. Besides, it’s calming to see you looking so serene, especially when during the day you’re mostly hectically fighting for your life.

You return to your former position of pressing foreheads and close your eyes, letting the quiet chirps of the forest insects fill your ears. You can feel Astarion’s hands dip to your waist, resting gently and uncertainly. With a small smile, you boop his nose with your own nose, giving him a look of reassurance before closing your eyes once more. Sometimes, you really couldn’t believe Astarion had chosen you of all people, he could do with a better lover but if you were his choice, you’d respect it.

You’d never imagined falling in love, only ever wondering what the next adventure of yours would bring but then Astarion came barreling into your life, quite literally with a knife at your throat. One look into his ruby red eyes and you recognised the lifelessness in them. You’d seen such eyes before, after all. Your own. But his eyes didn’t hold such a look anymore, not since you’d stood up for him, defended him, fought alongside him and threatened to dismember someone for trying to make you make his choices for him.

Your heart sang with each look he gave you, goosebumps travelling up your arm every time his fingers brushed against yours, and with every moment you spent with him, you found yourself falling deeper and deeper in love.

“I love you,” you whisper after a while. Astarion stares at you, mouth agape and you giggle, gently pushing his bottom jaw back up to close his mouth.

“Better keep that mouth closed before unwanted things find their way inside,” you tease, “I’d prefer not to taste anything…funny when kissing you.”

“You’re the only one I’m ever letting in my mouth dearest, don’t you worry,” he says when he finally finds the ability to form words once again. He chuckles, but it’s not quite genuine. He’s still confused, trying to process what you just told him. All this is just…so new to him. Even though the two of you have been together for a while, nights like this make him wonder if you’re better off with someone who doesn’t have as many issues as he does. The amount of effort you put into the relationship could be better spent elsewhere, other relationships would have progressed so much further than the relationship the two of you currently have.

“That’s a relief,” you press more kisses to his face, smothering him with them. Not that he minded in the slightest.

You look positively radiant under moonlight , Astarion thinks to himself. The way the moonlight lands on your bare shoulders and glistens off the water droplets that decorate your hair, the way your damp hair frames your perfect face, he could stare at your figure all day. Subconsciously, he lifts a hand out of the water and traces your jawline, staring deep into your eyes. He wonders what you see when you look at him. Do you see a beautiful silver-haired elven vampire or do you see a vampiric spawn, ready to sink its fangs into the nearest prey?

He moves your fringe, freeing up your forehead for him to plant a kiss there. His fangs graze over your skin lightly as his lips travel down towards your cheek where he plants another kiss before capturing his real target – your lips.

You kiss him back with such fervour that happiness blooms in his chest from the thought that you love kissing him this much. He only hopes that he can convey to you the same level of love through his actions because he knows his words always spill from his lips with that hint of fakeness out of sheer habit. He does what he can to tamper it, but a 200 year old habit is difficult to break.

He feels your fingers threading through his hair as you kiss, grasping at the silvery strands for a foothold and wonders what goes through your head when you kiss him. Do you think about the arousal that kisses bring? Do you think about dragging him away to your bedroll? Do you think about the pleasure from the nighttime activity that comes after?

Something squeezes his chest tightly and he pulls away, gasping for the air he no longer needs. No, you don’t think about him that way. You’ve told him over and over again, shown him over and over again but he can never properly rid those thoughts from his head. They always plague him, even on nights when the two of you do nothing but cuddle in his bedroll. He always wonders, staring at your sleeping form, when you’ll be tired of him, when you’ll discard him and he gets scared. He doesn’t want to lose this, whatever this is that the two of you have. He’s grown far too attached to it.

“Astarion?” Your gaze searches him, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“It’s nothing, darling. Just worried that you need to breathe. Look how flushed your face is, you better take some time to breathe,” he laughs humourlessly.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t press the issue. But please, bottling it up won’t do you any good. I want you to know you can always talk to me, tell me anything and I won’t judge. I promise.” You look at him with such sincerity that he feels ready to crumble right there and then, but he stops himself.

“Of course, darling.” His lips brush over yours but he never kisses, instead he pulls away, untangling himself from you. He can’t continue this tonight, not with the whirlwind of thoughts tearing his mind apart and it wouldn’t be fair to you.

You sense that he wants some time to himself and quickly excuse yourself, but not before hinting that you don’t mind cuddling with him later. Your arms are always open to him, a fact he greatly appreciated, and he agrees to see you later in your tent once he’s done sorting out the mess that is his mind.

With a quick kiss to his forehead, you head back to camp, leaving him with his swirling thoughts. He watches as your figure fades into the night and feels a tear roll down his cheek.

Would you think the same of him once you knew what Cazador did to him?

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n Part four! I know I said no stories till the end of the week but my class got delayed and I dreamed of this so... here we are. This is a bit of a roller coaster.

warning: nightmares, injuries, past trauma, mean people.

Not proofread just yet

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Azriel was walking through the forest. Thick snow heavy on his boots. Yet the sound of it was soothing. Azriel always loved winter. There was just something so beautiful about it. Or maybe it was the cold that spoke to him. But then it only showed that something so lethal could also be beautiful. Delicate. And that in itself gave the spymaster hope that he too wasn't a lost cause. If someone managed to love winter as much as he did, they would learn to love him as well.

"Boo", the sound made Azriel flinch slightly. He was too lost in his own mind to notice that he was indeed no longer alone. Axel stood in front of him, a cheeky grin on his face. The spymaster pressed a hand to his chest dramatically and said, "Nearly gave me a heart attack". The boy fell into fits of laughter, too distracted to notice Azriel reaching for him before he playfully pulled the boy into his arms.

"Don't get the mittens wet, you two", your voice broke through the laughter. Gentle and soft. Guiding. Azriel looked up. Here in the middle of a forest clearing, you looked like an actual angel. He imagined that was what men in war called for. That's what an angel of mercy looked like. Had to... A snowball hit Azriel right in the chest. The little mischievous youngling was already racing through the piles of snow. His little feat of little help. The broken wings barely managed to lift his body, even a tiny bit.

Azriel chased after him. The silent forest was beating with screeches. "I want to join! I want to join!", Zofie's voice rang out too. She was nestled in your arms. All bundled up in knitted layers. Her tiny button nose was already rosy. She was too tinny for the snow. The storm must have been wild last night. It was more than clear that she would submerge in the white blanket, at least up to her armpits. Azriel quickly snatched Axel off his feet, pulling him up with one hand. There was no doubt that his tummy would be hurting from this extensive laughter.

"Want to sit on my shoulder?", Azriel suggested, his attention now fully occupied by the little girl. Her curious eyes gleamed. "You can tell me if the river over there is frozen over. I can't see myself", that was a white lie. Azriel knew it was. His shadows had scanned the place. But he wanted to make her feel special, so he wasn't all that surprised when she scrambled to get out of your hands and onto Azriel's broad shoulder. She felt like a little feather in his arms.

"It's frozen", Zofie muttered. "I want to look as well", Axel scrambled for Azriel's side, pulling up. "Kids, Azriel is not a climbing tree", yet your voice didn't seem to reach them. You stepped closer to them, your foot sliding down the rock that must have been under you. Azriel was quick to steady your step. "Careful, love", he muttered under his breath. You smiled lovingly at him right as you reached the very edge of the river.

Azriel stepped first. Testing the ice before he reached out a hand for the kids. The two of them were way too occupied as they held onto one another, giggling, their feet slippery beneath them. Azriel held both of your hands as you steadied yourself. Big smile on your face as you opened to say something, but all that came out of your mouth was blood, your body lunging forward as an aero pierced your heart. Azriel caught your body right as the white material of your dress pooled with your blood, turning crimson. "No", was all he managed to mutter. "Y/N, hey... hey, love", his vision grew blurry. Your big eyes staring at him.

Thudding filled his ears. Then came the sound of crackling. Chipping ice hitting the snow. Azriel's head leaped sideways. He caught a glimpse of the two kids' fists hitting the ice. "No", he shouted. Your body slipped out of his arms as he scrambled to get up. Only to lock eyes with them as the ice gave in beneath them, and both of their bodies sank into the icy river. Azriel let out a deadly roar as he hurdled toward the crack, dipping himself into the water.

"No", the spymaster shot up with a jolt, his body covered in sweat, hair sticking to his face. For the first time, he hated the darkness that surrounded him. With one swift movement, Azriel jumped out of bed. His heart was beating so fast that he was sure he was going to puke all over himself. "They're fine", he muttered to himself, "It's fine". Yet his feet were already moving. His body carried on its own as he vaulted through the stairs. Fist pounding on the door while Azriel leaned against the doorframe.

He nearly fell to his knees when your smaller body appeared. Messy hair - clear evidence that you have been in a deep sleep. "Azriel", you mumbled as you scanned the male in front of you. His heavy breathing was so loud that you barely heard yourself. "Are you okay?", the spymaster whispered, his eyes looking all over you. So mortified. Shaking. "Well, besides the fact that you just woke me...", you tried to lighten the mood, but it seemed like his mind was moving a step forward. Azriel peered over your shoulder and asked, "Axel and Zofie?". You stepped aside to give him a clearer view of what was behind you. The room was dim, but the fireplace cast enough light to see the two kids nestled in between the sheets. "They're...", you started, but cut yourself off quickly. "Is everything okay?", you reframed your words.

That seemed to snap something within Azriel. He ran a hand through his damp hair and said with a deep breath, "Yeah, sorry, sorry, I...", he shook his head, almost in disbelief, that he had even come all the way here. As if his mind had only grasped onto reality just now. "Hey...", you moved to reach for his palm. Your hand was much smaller than his, but they fit snuggly against one another. Azriel just looked at you. Soaking in your soft gaze, the feeling of your skin. Your hand was indeed warm. And soft. Those two things alone seemed to settle him. You let him take a couple of calmer inhales before stepping out of the room. "Come", you beckoned him.

He just watched you move around the kitchen. The silky nightgown flowed with every move. Light goosebumps on your skin. The lower levels seemed to get colder at night. Azriel was still burning up from his nightmare, so he didn't seem to feel the chill, but you did, and a part of Azriel felt guilty that he had nothing to offer. He was... shirtless. That made his cheeks heat even more. His muscles flexed, but he tried to calm himself down. Azriel didn't want to gawk. He wasn't that kind of man, but the silk, your body beneath it... And all you were doing was making a cup of tea for him. He shifted in his seat. Eyes burning holes in your back. You felt his gaze too, grateful that your back was turned to him. You caught the strap of your nightgown slipping off your shoulder as you reached for the honey, cursing silently before turning back to the spymaster. Eyes meeting his in an instant.

"Drink", you handed him the cup, his fingerprints brushing over yours. "Poison?", he asked, your lips curving upwards, "The strongest kind". Azriel held your gaze firmly before he slowly nodded his head, "Hum, you licked the spoon, though". You crooked your head with a sigh, "Well, shit, huh. Guess we both are doomed now". Azriel let out a chuckle that matched yours before his eyes settled back on you. You were right beside him. Even with him sitting down, you still had to tilt your head up slightly.

"What?", you asked after a light smirk curled his lips. "Why are you looking at me like that?", you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. "You cursed", his words took you by surprise before you snorted slightly, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. "I'm not an angel", you cackled quietly. But Azriel didn't find it funny. You look like one, he thought. But he couldn't bring himself to say that.

"Sorry, yeah, an assassin,", he said in a serious voice, narrowing his eyes. You bit your lip, trying not to laugh as well. "You can be funny, you know", you told him, Azriel's eyes grew big. "Is that a compliment?", he said in a teasing manner. "Hmmm", you tapped your finger on your chin a couple of times, "No, an observation". Azriel took a sip of the tea before looking back at you. "Keeping tabs on me?", and you could swear his voice sounded deeper, even more velvety than before. Something shivered deep within you. "Most definitely", you said firmly.

Your eyes locked once again. Only now did you realize how close you'd been standing. You could feel the heat of his body radiating. You bit your lip without thinking, and Azriel let out a low growl. Darkness flowed through his eyes. His magic rippled beneath his skin. Your hand reached for him. Your fingers glowed slightly as you brushed them over his chest. It felt like there was no oxygen in the room for a moment. But you equally felt as if you were floating. Azriel leaned closer. You could feel his breath against your skin. Yet another shiver ran down you. You were inches away. There was so little space between you. You sucked in a breath. Something creaked in the distance, making you both jump apart. You quickly tucked your hair behind your ears. Azriel let out a cough. "It's getting late", "The kids upstairs", you both said at the same time, nodding. Eyes everywhere, but on each other.

You brushed a hand over your face before plastering a big smile for Zofie, who was nervously twisting the side of her skirt between her fingers. You knew that the moment the music filled the room, she would loosen up and grow into her body, but now she was fighting her fear of being around others. Past terrors eating at her. "Hey", the feeling of a warm palm on your shoulder made you turn to the side. Your cheeks instantly grew crimson as you saw Azriel standing there. His hair was messy, and from the bags under his eyes, you were almost sure that he too got little sleep last night. You couldn't help but wonder if the same thing kept him up for the rest of the night. You didn't say anything; you just scooted to the side to give him more space. His eyes instantly moved to look for Zofie; that alone made your heart swell. Azriel waved her way, and she instantly dropped her head, her long hair covering her face, but you could see a little smile on her face from where you sat. "She's been asking about you", you said softly, pulling Azriel's attention back to you. "Has she?", the tinge of hope in his voice was evident. You hummed, "That cookie was surely made with love." Azriel stayed quiet, but you knew that your words hit the spot.

You two watched Zofie in silence, besides a laugh here and there when she lost herself in the sound of music just a bit too much. Her wild hair, accompanied by a bright pink too-too, made her quite a character. Azriel went back and forth between watching Zofie and you. His hand inched closer to yours. Your gaze caught the subtle action. "About last night...", Azriel said quietly. You were about to turn to him when the voice from another direction caught your full attention instead. "Y/N," it was Padme. The look on her face made all the blood drain from her body. You stood up quickly, "What is it?". She rarely got down to the communal levels; work kept her in the upper tower. So the fact that she was here had to mean that something bad must have happened. And all she said was one word, but that was enough to make you sway. "Axel", she muttered. You felt a hand steady you from the back. The world blurred for a moment, and then you took off running.

The healer level was laced with a thick smell of herbs and brews. That didn't help the dizziness that pulled at you. You must have looked like a mad woman, the way you barged in. Your eyes were wild as you scanned the healing pods. "What happened", you breathed out. Trying. Hoping that someone would give you the answer. Any answer. But no one said anything. Did you even speak the words aloud? You took a deep breath. "What happened?", you asked firmly.

One of the healers waves you over from across the room; the door to the last pod was open, and you assumed that was where Axel was. "He tried to fly over the wall", the female said once you were close enough to her. "Axel", you nearly shrieked at the image of that. He couldn't. There was no way. His wings were too weak. "He made it to the second floor", she continued, but you raised your palm, silencing the healer. You could imagine the rest yourself.

You pushed past her, slipping into the room. Axel was covered in bruises. The deformed wings were all scratched up, lying on his side loosely. Bile rose in your throat. You swayed slightly, only to be met with a strong wall of muscle behind you. "We cleaned up the bruises in the front but not the wings,", the healer said quietly. You knew their help was minimal when it came to that. In this case, at least. "I've got this, thank you", you said as professionally as you could, your nails digging into the warm muscular arms that were the reason why you still stood on your own two feet. "I'll call you over if I need help", the healer nodded her head, stepping away.

You inched closer to the bed. "I'll turn you on your stomach, okay?", you asked Axel softly. He barely showed any emotion, silent tears streaming down his face. You knew he endured worse pain. The night you dragged him out of that cellar... Your hands trembled at the cries that echoed.

"Let me", Azriel stepped up, reaching for Axel. You knew he was here. That he was with you. You felt Azriel right beside you up here, but it felt as if your brain had only caught up to the fact that it was his warmth that comforted you all this time. Now that he was away from you, the cold that nipped at your skin seemed almost unbearable.

Axel's face changed once he saw Azriel. A hiccup slipped past his lips, and you had to turn your head to the side to hide the tears that fell down your cheeks. "Hey, I've got you", Azriel muttered, both of his hands gripping Axel's as he kneeled at the top of a bed the boy was resting on. "I'm sorry, I'm...", Axel crocked out, trying to move his bruised body. "Why did you do it, bud?", Azriel might not understand and know most of the things yet but to make a flight like that... No youngling could do that; their bodies simply lacked strength. Another choked-out sob slipped past Axel's lips before he spoke up again, "They were making fun. Said I was... I was deformed", those words ripped out a chunk of Azriel's soul. In flashes, Azriel saw himself within the boy. He was eager to show that his will wasn't broken and that he had the spark within to be just like the others.

Azriel opened his mouth, but you quickly cut him off. "Let's look over your wings, okay? We'll figure out the rest later", you muttered, brushing away Axel's damp hair. You met Azriel's eyes briefly before all of his attention was back on the boy, who held onto him for dear life. You plunged deep within yourself. Searching for that familiar thread of light. You let our palms drown in the white light, coating the beaten wings and forming a cast over the mangled boning. Axel winced. "You're doing better than most soldiers in a war camp, bud", Azriel was quick to reassure him. His cold shadows brushed over Axel's forehead and neck, trying to keep the fever at bay and hold the boy conscious for as long as possible. "It hurts", he wept through gritted teeth. "Y/N will make it better", Azriel muttered, his eyes drifting to your hands, which by now had both of the scattered wing tissue glowings. Your body was shivering; it was no doubt taking a toll on your body too. Azriel was quick to calculate the leap he would have to make if you were to pass out. Keeping some of his shadows alert so they would notice the change in your breathing. "Hang in there, okay? This will be over soon," those were the last words Azriel told Axel before the boy limped completely. The tiny hands that held onto his palm so firmly fell loose. But Azriel didn't let go. He was not going to leave him. Wasn't going to let him feel alone and helpless ever again. He felt like he owed it to Axel and to the young version of himself too.

The candles were burning low. Azriel had lost count of how many times he had replaced them by now. He had bumped into Padme. The female didn't fully introduce herself, but Azriel had a feeling that she was an important figure here. She had wanted to talk to you, but you were barely a shell of a living creature by then, and something within Azriel protested against letting anyone else talk to you. Not now. So Padme talked to him. Gave him an image of what had happened.

The flying lesson the Illyrian children had. The fact that Axel watched it from the sidelines. Unfit to fly until the healing process had finished. "Kids can be vicious", she said with a voice so ancient that Azriel's bones shrieked, "But our Axel is different". Those words left a bitter taste in Azriel's mouth. "He's special, not flawed", the spymaster said roughly, and the woman sent him a pleased look. As if he had passed a test he didn't even know he was having. The rest of that conversation was hazy. Azriel was running on too much adrenaline himself.

He carefully opened the door to the healing pod. He did not want to wake any of you up, especially if you had finally fallen asleep. But you were just in the spot where Azriel had left you last. Axel's head was on your lap, your fingers slowly brushing through the boy's hair. Your eyes were empty as you looked down at him. "I brought some food", Azriel whispered, making you snap your head up. You were drained. He might not know much about the magic you possessed, but whatever you had done had taken its toll on you. "He just dozed off", you muttered quietly, turning your attention back on Axel. "It's for you", Azriel said, setting the tray on the little table. "I'm not hungry", you said bluntly. "Y/N", Azriel breathed out. He had seen denial and anger eating up at his soldiers. Had seen it eating up at Rhys when he had to let go of Feyre.

"I'll watch over him", you said stubbornly. "You need to rest", Azriel tried to reason, but all he was met with was a shake of your head. "I'm resting", you said, pointing at the bed you were sitting on. "Y/N", the spymaster said softly, way softer than he usually liked to use his voice. "He's in pain. I need to help," you said, Azriel looked down at the palms that you kept tucked away beneath the boy's wings. This whole time? You've been summoning magic this whole time. Worry laced Azriel's whole body.

"Y/N," he said, way more firmly this time. The way he spoke, your name had finally broken something deep within you. "If I fall asleep...", your voice died down. Bottom lip quivering. "Y/N, come here, love", Azriel pulled at your wrist, mindful of the boy resting against you, until you were up on your feet. He brought you closer. Your final undoing was the moment his arms wrapped around you.

"I'm failing them. I keep failing them", a sob slipped past your lips, your hands taking fistfuls of his shirt. "No, you are not", Azriel said firmly, "I've been here long enough to see how much you love them. And they need just that, sweetheart. They need love". You let your tears flow freely at that. All the emotions were pouring out of you. Azriel didn't budge, holding onto you just as firmly. "I'm so scared", you hiccuped finally, with no strength to keep your walls up any longer.

"I know", Azriel muttered. "I'm so scared", you pressed your face into his chest, and Azriel moved to brush his fingers through your hair, "I know, but you don't have to be. I'm here now. I'll keep watch over you all". And there was no doubt in his words. There was no doubt in your soul. You knew he wasn't lying. You could feel it. "Foreign soldier", you muttered after a while, Azriel chuckled slightly. Brushing a strand of hair away from your face, "I need to find a sword like Axel drew", he stated, making the corners of your lips turn upwards slightly. You closed your eyes, letting the world flow through you. Allowing yourself to stop for a minute while Azriel held you. Until your eyes snapped open and you pushed back slightly, "Zofie...", you muttered.

[onlymvr]

Tension | Jake Sully x (Na’vi) fem!Reader [one-shot]

Summary: You had enough of Jakes shit so you decide to do something about it. You weren’t prepared for the outcome….

Warnings: sixty-nine that shit, slight hair pulling, dom jake, fingering, choking, some name calling, over-stimulation, lil praises here and there yadda yadda yadaa

Note: So this is my first ever smutty one-shot i’ve ever written so bare w me guys. Hope y’all like it🙏also i was too tired to read over it so if u see some spelling errors…. no u didn’t

You couldn't sleep. Again.

You were consumed by thoughts of that one irritating and arrogant man. Jake sully. Despite your efforts to push him out of your mind, you found yourself dwelling on every encounter and interaction you ever had. You were filled with a mix of emotions - anger, frustration, and even a strange sense of longing - that kept you awake and restless throughout the night. It was as if your hatred for him only served to fuel your obsession with him, making it impossible for you to find peace and fall into a deep, restful sleep.

As you walked further through the forest, you couldn't help but notice all the ripe berries that were scattered along the path that lead to a few bushes in front of you. Your mouth watered. Making the decision, you decided to pick and gather a hefty amount and placed it gently on a large leaf. The crisp, refreshing taste of the berries helped clear your mind and soothe your restless spirit, making you feel more at peace and at ease.

“Man these are so good”, you smiled stuffing your mouth with the sweet yet tart fruit.

As you kept walking, you came across a babbling stream and decided to sit by its banks to rest and enjoy your berries. You found a comfortable spot on the soft grass, settling down and gazing up at the night sky as you ate. The stars twinkled brightly above you, casting a magical glow over the scene and the light of the moon reflecting on the blue stream. The peaceful sound of the water rushing by and the soothing darkness of the night made you feel calm and content, as if all your troubles had melted away. As if he melted away. You sat there for a while, savoring the simple pleasures of nature and letting go of your worries.

As you sat comfortably by the stream, your thoughts inevitably turned to that annoying man. You couldn't help but think about him and all the ways in which he had wronged you. You couldn't shake the feeling of confusion and frustration as you wondered why the man you despise seems to harbor such intense feelings of dislike towards you. You had never done anything to wrong him, and yet he seemed to go out of his way to make your life difficult. It was a mystery that plagued you, causing you to lose sleep and spend countless hours trying to make sense of it all. But at the back of your mind you couldn’t help but wander to more sinful thoughts about Jake. Sure, you cant stand him but god he is very, VERY attractive. You imagined all the ways in which he could take you and use him as his own fuck toy. The way he would touch you, taste you, hold you and don’t even get me started on how long and thick his dic-

*CRACK*

The sound of a twig snapping within your eyesight interrupted your thoughts. Great what now. You quickly picked up your bow, straightened your back, and squinted aiming at your target in front of you, preparing yourself to whatever or whoever was going to appear in front of your eyes. But boy were you so fucking wrong.

The next few minutes of intense waiting, you were about to lower your bow but what appeared in front of you was not what you expected.

You turned to see a tall, fit man emerging from the trees, his muscular frame and chiseled features making your heart skip a beat. He walked with confidence and grace, a shadow covering his piercing gaze that fixed on you as you couldn't help but feel a surge of attraction towards him, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you knew him from somewhere. As he drew closer, it hit you. it’s Jake. Oh fuck me.

“You weren’t gonna shoot me with that were you”, Jake grunts, pointing at the now lowered bow resting on your lap. his gaze slowly looking up and down at you, taking his time to savour your appearance.

Your body grows hot, his toned chest and the bulge of his muscles practically flexing up in your face. The long veins running up his big arms down to the length of those fingers. God those fingers.

You blink out of the trance and roll your eyes, shaking your head at him while returning your vision back at the stream in front of you.

Oh how your night could get any better.

With no time for you to register, he sat himself down beside you, grabbing the leaf full of berries and plopping each one in his mouth, savouring it. He turned to look at you, settling the leaf by his abdomen with a sly smirk you just wanna smack the hell out of.

You looked at him with disgust. Who the fuck does this guy think he is. He invades MY space, interrupting MY peace, and takes MY berries.

“Do you fucking mind”, you look at him in disbelief, snatching the berries away from his grasp, leaving him with an annoyed look. “They’re mine dumbass”

He pokes his tongue on the side of his cheek and lets out a low chuckle. “Damn, don’t have to act like such a bitch about it.” he turns, fixing his gaze on the stream, clenching his jaw. Hard.

Oh he did not. did he jus-

No breathe. Don’t let him get to you. It’s just a word. He didn’t mean it. Don’t waste your time on him. Just don’t. Breathe, Breathe, Breathe.

As you calmed yourself down, you thought how bad could it get? At this point you’re just tired and sick of his shit. You placed the leaf between both of you, nudging his shoulder to look down.

He looked at you, and down at the leaf. He searched for any expression on your face but there was none. You reached down for a berry and plopped it in your mouth, raising your brows at him.

He scoffed, extending his long legs out, placing the palm of his hands on the grass, looking up at the night sky.

That was it for you. You couldn’t understand why this guy had to be so fucking stubborn. You did nothing wrong to him, why is he acting this way towards you? it’s like he could never be pleased. You had to speak up, you had enough of his shit.

“you know what, I don’t know what the fuck is so far up your ass that you can’t show at least an ounce of respect. I’m always trying to be nice towards you but you alwa-“

You were cut off by him standing up swiftly, looking down at you with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw. He stands tall, looming over you, his eyes turning dark, scanning your face with his piercing gaze. A feeling of want struck through your body that made your body shiver at the sight. But you won’t back down, not this time.

“Oh i’m the one not showing respect?” he points at his chest, looking at you with disbelief. “You’re the one with all the bitchy remarks you throw around and act like you won’t get it in return, girl.” His tone getting louder, showing authority after every word.

That Nickname. That assigned word he always called you, did something to you. Ugh, you didn’t know why, but the way it would roll out of his tongue, like honey, made something surge hot in the pit of your stomach.

You wouldn’t back down, you push yourself up, trying to get to his level and match his intensity with your gaze.

“You’re the one prancing around acting like you own everyone and everything.” You spit back, getting harsher with each passing word.

He relaxes his face, tilting his head to the side, eyes getting darker after each second.

Oh fuck

The air around you gets thick with tension. No matter how hard you try, you can’t analyze the look on his face. The way you have to tilt your head back to meet his piercing gaze, sets excitement over you.

“Just shut up”. He grunts taking a step towards you slowly.

You wanted to test his limits. Getting a little bold, you let out a low chuckle, “Oh yeah? Make me.” You take a step closer, closing the gap between the both of you.

You let your eyes wander, flicking at the sweet soft curve of his lips, then back up at his eyes.

That set him off.

He pushes you towards the closest tree with his hands gripped at both of your arms. Your back hits the tree, the rough bark digging into your soft flesh, letting out a grunt. Your body grows hot and you let your head sink back into the trunk when Jake leans over, scooping his hands under your thighs and lifting you up as if you weighed like a feather.

Without warning, he whips his head forward and smashes his lips down to yours, catching you off guard. His fingers are rough, digging into the soft plush of your skin as they never relax. Well that’s gonna leave a mark. His lips are smooth, melting into the curve of your mouth as if it was made for you. He bites the bottom of your lip, making you let out a small moan, allowing him to slip his warm slick tongue into yours. He tastes of the aftermath of the sweet berries, something that’s so addicting, you want more of. You widen your mouth, allowing him more access, pushing your tongue down to his. Surprised by your actions, he lets out a small grunt from the back of his throat and tilts his head, getting more of you.

Your fingers graze his cheeks and land on the side of his head. You pull his hair back to get a different angle but was greeted by him letting out a small, whiny moan. Jackpot.

“Didn’t know you liked your hair being pulled”, you smile against his lips, panting for air, as he sucked all of it out of you.

“Stop talkin”, he grunts and seals his warm lips on yours. You comply to his words and smash your lips against his, as you couldn’t get enough of his taste. “Needy bitch” he cursed, kissing back and biting your lip only stopping to glide his hands to the back of your top, fiddling with the knot. You were about to give him a hand but was met with your top loosening, falling to the ground between the both of you.

His large, rough, veiny hands find your boobs, giving them a harsh squeeze that let a loud, sultry moan escape your lips. The way his hand covered almost your whole chest, set something afire within you, pulling his waist closer to your mound, begging for a source of contact. He smirks at you, letting your feet hit the ground gently, as he pinches and rolls your sensitive nipples along his fingers.

He takes a step back, admiring your appearance. There’s a line of saliva running down the side of your mouth, face is flustered, eyes dark filled with lust and your nipples hard as rock, displayed for only Jake’s eyes to see. He rubs his length through his loin cloth to relive some tension and your eyes follow suit. He’s practically bulging through and you can’t help but notice how long and thick it is. You gulp.

He pulls you by the back of your neck, and sets you laying down onto the soft grass beneath you. Your heart is beating out of your chest, a river practically formed between your legs and at this point you just want him to do something. Anything, fast.

He settles above you, dipping his head down and sucking at your neck hard. You’re gonna be marked up by the end of this night. He drags his fangs down to your neck, boobs, stomach and lastly settling it on top of your loin cloth. You shiver by the different kind of contact, your walls clenching at nothing as a warm pool spreads down your mound.

“Jake please” you whimper pulling his head up to meet your gaze.

“Patience, girl. I’m just getting started”, his words leave you hot with need. You can’t take it anymore. He slowly leaves sloppy kisses all around your abdomen and finally drags his fangs underneath your loin cloth, dragging it down to your feet. He tossed it somewhere beside him but that’s a problem to think about later. He spreads your legs apart, the cold air hitting your wet mound making you buckle your hips.

“You usually get this wet?” he smirks looking up at you for an answer. Your cheeks grow red, turning your face to the side, covering it with your hands, embarrassment washing over you. Jake yanks your hands and pin them above your head. “I said, do you usually get this wet?” he sterns, looking at you with a dark look. “No” you spit out.

“Good”

He leans back, setting his weight on his knees. You pick yourself up settling on your elbows, watching his next movements. He slowly unties his loincloth and drops it when his dick springs free from the fabric. His tip a dark purple already smeared with pre-cum. He’s practically rock solid. he strokes his dick slowly, maintaining eye-contact and you couldn’t help but lick your lips. His mouth parted letting out a small moan, as you took in his length. Holy fuck he’s big. A large bulging vein running down the underside of his dick as his hand pumps himself slowly.

The next moments you weren’t prepared for. Jake swiftly picks you up and positioned your thighs on the sides of his head while you faced his length in a classic yet beautiful sixty nine position.

“Look at this sloppy hole, how long has it been since you had someone take care of you?” his hot breathe fans over you making you clench over nothing before screaming when he pinched your puffy clit.

“God, Jake please, Just please” you begged, wrapping your hand around his huge cock in front of your face.

“Shhhh, you’re talking to much, let’s put that bratty mouth into good use, eh?” the hand that was gripping your thigh was lifted up to hold your neck, slowly making you lower your mouth down on him. “Atta girl, just like that, doing so good for me”. He kept holding your head, guiding your movements in a bobbing motion.

Jake’s mouth finally meets your heat. his tongue dragging up and down your folds and sucking at your puffy clit, his moans sending vibrations down your heat giving you a whole different type of pleasure. It was too good you couldn’t even focus on your task until he grabbed and smacked your ass with no hesitation.

“Deeper” he forced you lower making you gag on his cock. tears were streaming down your face as your throat was stuffed with his length. “such a good girl for me, just how I like it” he let go of your head to hold each side of your hips, inserting two long thick fingers in you while sucking at your sensitive clit at the same time.

Jakes fingers started to pump in you faster, tongue flicking and sucking your clit as if it was his last meal. His cock was so down deep into your throat you could only moan directly onto him and scratch your nails down to his thighs. The knot on your stomach not taking to long to form was rapidly spreading across you in a mind-blowing orgasm. In hope Jake would slow down, he pumped faster and casually added a third finger stretching you mid-orgasm and curling them brushing it to massage your sweet spot.

“Fuck, Jake!” you let go of his cock to scream when he kept going in faster, holding your hips in place, not allowing you to back down from the over-stimulation.

“Shut up and take it” your back arched even more when he continued to suck your clit hard. You sobbed his name but was cut off by him shoving your head down his length. you kept bobbing your head up and down and making sure to suck his tip harder. A different sensation was building up inside of you and sobbed.

“Jake i’m close-“ you screamed, tears streaming down your face.

“Me too, baby”

He pumped his three fingers into you faster, curling them in, brushing it against your g-spot, as you kept sucking and gagging down his cock, his tip hitting deep down your throat. It seemed like another climax but this one hit you harder. Your knees buckled and a hot wave went shooting down your legs and you released onto Jake’s mouth. He slurped all your juices up like a starved man and as he was, you started massaging his balls and it send him on edge. he spilled his warm load deep down your throat. You choked but swallowed all of it.

Your body goes limp against his as he picks you up and lays your back against his chest, laying down on the soft grass. Every inch of your body is sore as you were processing what just fucking happened. Jakes hot breath fans against your neck and nuzzles between your shoulder.

“You’re still a bitch you know that” he whispers against you, but you had not one ounce of energy to respond. You just smiled.

_______________________________________________

BOY WE HAD A TIME LAST NIGHTTT

lmk what y’all think?

[anto-pops]

Inherent Desires - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: After a draining week away from home with his fellow Aurors, the last thing Sebastian wants to do is sit through a damn dinner party with all of them in London. Lucky for him, your presence at the event gives him the perfect opportunity to do more entertaining things, like work you into a frenzy at the table.

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian wanting to go home and roll around in the sheets with you, but since he can't he settles for fucking you downstairs in his boss's house

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, mild voyeurism

I wrote this under the influence of Covid so don't look at it too closely. Full fic can be found here on Ao3!

Sebastian wanted to go the fuck home. 

He hadn’t even wanted to attend his boss’s stupid dinner party. Hauling ass all the way to London didn’t sound remotely appealing to him, especially when he’d only just arrived home from Poland the night before. It was well after midnight when he’d apparated into the living room of your shared home, exhausted and craving your familiar embrace like a man denied water. You’d been asleep though, and before he had the chance to reacquaint himself with your body earlier that morning, he’d received the summons for a celebratory feast in his squad’s honor. 

Why they needed to further celebrate taking down a dragon fighting ring, he didn’t know. His work was cut out for him despite the completed assignment; it just meant more paperwork, more meetings, and evidently more formalities that he didn’t care to entertain. You had convinced him to attend– if only because the whole soiree was in his honor. Sebastian’s absence would have been apparent and awkward to address later down the line. 

You’d told him he could grouse all he wanted, and Merlin— was he succeeding. His arms were crossed loosely across his chest while he sat back in his seat, eagerly awaiting the end of the night with his lips pursed and his brows furrowed. Sebastian’s expression might have come across as focused and domineering to everyone else, but to you it just looked downright irate. His boss had to be getting to him after weeks of working together so closely.

How did the saying go again? Familiarity breeds contempt, or something like that. It seemed to fit the situation to a ‘T’.

No rational thinking could change the fact that Sebastian didn’t want to be here. Especially with you seated beside him looking ten different kinds of seductive. 

You were positively ravishing. Donned in the silky, forest green dress that Sebastian had gifted you this morning, the material clung to your feminine frame like a glove and left little to the imagination. He wanted nothing more than to run his hands all over you– to finally satiate the undeniable urge to sheathe himself in your tight core once again. The most he’d been able to do was help you get dressed earlier, and the seductive drag of his fingers up your spine as he zipped you up had been enough to make his intentions clear to you. 

There was a time and a place, however, and you’d told him as much with a sultry look before heading outside to the carriage. Since then, he was having a hard time focusing on anything else. 

From his seat next to you, he could feel the heat radiating off of your body, and the low hum of your ancient magic charged the air and made his hair stand on end. Sebastian had to dig his nails into the upholstery of his seat to refrain from touching you openly. The smell of your perfume was like an aphrodisiac after seven long, grating days spent away from it. Nevermind the flush on your cheeks from all the wine you’d consumed; it made you look all the more alluring, and the half-chub he’d been sporting was quickly becoming something bigger and more bothersome. 

Sebastian considered his next move carefully, glancing around the comically large dinner table fit for a villain before he turned his attention back to you. Your arm was outstretched to accept another generous serving of red wine, your lips curling into a practiced smile as you murmured a low, “Thank you.”

Marlowe Selwyn, the host of the evening, chose that moment to charm away everyone’s dirty plates and replace the picked apart main course with an extravagant looking cake in the center of the table. Your eyes were wider than saucers as you took in the impressive sight, and Sebastian smiled despite his sour mood. Sometimes suffering through these things was worth it to see you so easily pleased. He knew you had a wicked sweet tooth. 

He did too, if he was being honest, but the sudden realization that he would rather have you for dessert hit him like a steaming train, and his cock twitched in his trousers enthusiastically. 

“Once again, a grand toast to Sallow’s squad for a job well done in Poland,” Marlowe announced, his bald head glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. The wine had to be warming him up thoroughly. “I’ve always had high expectations for you all and you never fail to impress. Here’s to many more successes in the near future, cheers.” 

You lifted your glass in solidarity, watching as all the Auror’s around the table did the same as they hooted and hollered their agreements, when you suddenly felt a broad hand plant itself on your thigh.

When you glanced up, Sebastian was staring at you with a blank expression, but there was no way you missed the mischievous glint in his eyes. You shot him a sideways look of your own, biting your tongue to stifle a quip, but the brunet only huffed out an airy laugh under his breath. You brought your wine glass back to your lips to take a generous sip and school the building tension in your shoulders. It was pointless, however, seeing as Sebastian started to drag his fingers up your leg to gather the material of your dress into a balled heap. 

You knew exactly what he was trying to do, and the thought made you flush deeper and shudder nervously. While your lower half was concealed by the table, there would be no hiding your reactions to Sebastian’s touch if he continued. Once he’d haphazardly pushed the majority of your dress up your legs to expose his target, you visibly tensed and dropped one of your own hands to grip his, anxiously looking around the room at the slew of tipsy Ministry officials who were none the wiser to Sebastian’s horny antics at the far end of the table. 

Sebastian licked his lips in a bid to hide his cheshire-like smile while he watched you, noting your sharp intake of breath when he cautiously ventured closer to your nether region. Your back seemed to go rigid at the sudden attention, and he felt your nails dig into the skin at his wrist when he finally pressed his middle finger against your thin undergarments, sparing a quick glance down the row of seats to ensure he hadn’t been discovered. Marlowe was still talking, and his co-workers were preoccupied with watching him cut the massive cake, which meant he was in the clear for the time being. 

Your wine glass shook in your hand when Sebastian trailed his finger down to seek out the tiny bundle of nerves at your center, causing you to whip your head to the side to stare at him unblinkingly. Your voice was low when you hissed out, “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He shot back easily with a knowing smirk. 

“It looks like you’re being incredibly careless. Knock it off, this isn’t the time–” you were cut off by your own gasp when he finally planted the tip of his finger against your aching core, rubbing firm, teasing circles around your clit through the cotton of your panties. You felt your face heat up as you shifted your hips back in an attempt to pull away from the abrupt pleasure, but Sebastian followed you easily. There was virtually nowhere for you to go to escape his brazen ministrations. 

“What about you, Mrs. Sallow?” You heard Marlowe ask from the other side of the table, and you jumped slightly in your seat from having been quickly roped back into the moment at hand. “Have you given any further thought to my offer?” 

Sebastian stilled his movements– just barely– so that he could glare fixedly at his boss. You had no idea what the man was even referring to, but clearly your husband did. Swallowing thickly, you released Sebastian’s wrist to gingerly set your wine glass down on the table, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Sorry… what offer?” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten! I’m referring to the Auror position– for you to join our ranks in the Ministry. Your abilities are squandered, my dear. Think of all the good work we could accomplish with the help of your ancient magic.”

Oh, right. That offer. 

It wasn’t the first time Marlowe had pitched the Auror title to you, and something told you it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Your answer had never changed though; becoming an Auror was something you had decided against a long time ago, preferring to maintain your freedom to travel where you wanted, when you wanted. Besides, your exploration of ancient magic sites was far from complete, and with so much left to discover and unearth, you found yourself shaking your head through the lustful fog that clouded your mind. 

It was far too difficult to keep your voice steady when Sebastian started pressing down on your clit again. Your voice was tight as you squeezed your knees together under the table, but he didn’t let that stop him. “I apologize, Mr. Selwyn, but I’m afraid my answer is still the same.”

Marlowe’s beady eyes narrowed scrupulously, and his lips pursed with obvious disappointment, but he gave you a firm nod all the same. “I see. Well… should you change your mind, you know where to find me.” 

You were certain he didn’t mean for the statement to come out so suggestive, but you simply gave him a curt nod before turning your attention to your lap. The veins in Sebastian’s hands were swollen and apparent, his irritation with his boss palpable, but he rewarded your indifferent reply with a quick swipe up your dampening folds, and you had to bite your lip to refrain from moaning in earnest. This was a game you were quickly losing, and the growing fire in your gut was as intoxicating as it was sobering. 

You were petrified of being discovered. 

“Are you alright, dear? You look rather ill,” another one of Sebastian’s squad members asked you from across the table. You were positive you’d met the man before, but his name escaped your memory completely. In fact, your mind was utterly blank of any prudent information– save for the acute placement of Sebastian’s long, cunning fingers. 

Dozens of heads swiveled in your direction to scrutinize your seemingly ‘ill’ appearance, and you hastily shoved Sebastian’s hand away from between your legs and tugged your dress down. “Yes, I’m fine. I suppose the wine is starting to get to me– please excuse me for a moment.” 

You didn’t wait to gauge your husband’s reaction. Instead you swiftly stood from your seat, offering a polite smile to Marlowe and the rest of the attendees before you strode out of the dining room to head for the downstairs restroom. The sound of your heels clicking against the marble stairs filled the foyer– betraying your hurried pace and giving away just how desperate you were for a modicum of privacy. You shouldered the door open and closed it quickly, latching the lock into place before you turned to stare at your reflection. 

Shit. 

As if wine could make you look so frazzled. You were scarlett from head to toe, and your dress was mildly wrinkled in the areas Sebastian had bunched up and shoved out of the way to play with you. A nagging voice in the back of your mind threatened to brutalize him for nearly humiliating you in front of all his co-workers, but a louder, much needier voice was suddenly demanding that you leave with him to go home and make him finish what he’d started. 

Up until now, you’d been fairly surprised with Sebastian’s restraint. You knew he was as eager as you were to fool around after such an abrupt and grating business trip, but he’d seemingly been on his best behavior all evening. You should have known his patience would run out before you even left London. He was way too predictable. 

The distinct sound of a lock being charmed open reached your ears, and you stepped further into the dimly lit bathroom to prematurely glare at who you already knew had come searching for you. Sebastian poked his head through the entryway first, grinning diabolically when he caught sight of your unkempt appearance before stepping through the threshold and shutting the door– all without taking his dark eyes off of you. 

“You have some gall, you know that?” You immediately started in on him, jabbing an accusatory finger in his direction while you raked your other hand through your hair. “Have you gone completely mad? Are you trying to embarrass us both?”

Sebastian adjusted the flared collar of his Auror coat with a smug expression on his face, shrugging nonchalantly as he leaned against the closed door. “I don’t think you realize how good you look tonight.”

“That’s hardly an excuse–”

“Yes it is. You’re distracting me. As soon as I got home last night, all I wanted was to be inside of you– frankly it’s unacceptable that I haven’t been yet. Then you go and wear something like this and expect me to eat Selwyn’s shitty dessert? I’d much rather have you.”

“I– but– you gave me this dress,” you stammered out indignantly, which only served to make Sebastian chuckle. 

“I did, and you look radiant, make no mistake. I suppose it’s my own fault for insisting you wear it tonight.” He stepped away from the door, the predatory glint in his eyes deepening as he moved to plant himself directly behind you facing the mirror. “I thought I’d be able to hold off until later, but I don’t see that happening anymore.” 

You watched through the reflection as Sebastion wound his strong arms around your midsection, tugging you flush against his chest so he could run his hands up your front. The closer he got to your breasts, the shallower your breathing became, and you reached behind yourself to place your palms against the brunet’s toned legs in an attempt to ground yourself. “S-Sebastian, not here. Merlin– what if Marlowe comes looking and walks in?”

He lowered his head to nuzzle his lips against your thunderous pulse, pressing wet, chaste kisses along the slender column of your neck. Once he found one of your pert nipples through the silky material draped over you and pinched lightly, your restraint started to slip away. 

Then again, had it really been there in the first place? Your resolve where Sebastian was concerned was always about as strong as wet tissue paper. He knew exactly what buttons to press to get what he wanted from you, and you rarely had any complaints to voice after the fact– save for when he was acting like a complete prat in the process. 

“If he does, then he’ll be the luckiest bastard alive for all of two seconds before I kill him.” 

“Sebastian!” 

“I’m joking, darling. I do hate the way Selwyn speaks to you, though. He’s too familiar with you for my liking.” He looked up at your flustered self staring wide-eyed at him in the mirror, dropping one of his hands to the space between your legs while the other trailed higher to curl around your throat, and your stomach flipped over on itself from the possessive hold he had on you. Sebastian’s hand tightened a fraction to press your head against his shoulder, leaving you arched deliciously across the front of his torso– and he swore up and down he wouldn’t be able to hold back, even if he wanted to. “Let me fuck you here. I’ll be so good to you, I promise. To hell with the party, we can leave right after.”

Your pulse fluttered beneath Sebastian’s broad hand as you sucked in a shaky breath, watching with rapt interest as his wandering fingers began tugging up the green fabric of your dress once again. The urge to stop him was nowhere to be found despite the circumstances, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you willed your brain to function rationally. “By that logic we could just leave now and spare ourselves the embarrassment of being caught. The carriage is literally waiting outside.” 

Sebastian tugged your head back a smidge further to give himself easier access to lave his hot tongue along the shell of your ear, drawing a shiver from you that he felt reverberate through your prone form. “That line of thinking is flawed– I would still have to wait in that case, and if I have to wait any longer I’ll lose my fucking mind.” 

Shifting your feet to better support yourself, the tiny movement allowed your backside to rub perfectly against Sebastian’s painfully hard cock. You hadn’t doubted him in the slightest when he said he was impatient, but feeling his arousal pressed against your ass made his predicament all the more apparent, and you couldn’t help the slight smile that broke out across your face when his strained breathing fanned across your temple. 

“Gods, do you want me to beg? Because I will, I’ll get on my knees for you here and now. Please darling– please let me– I need you so badly, you have no clue.” 

The entire time he was talking, his hips were rocking against you– shamelessly deriving his own pleasure from the friction the movement provided. The entire display really had no business being so attractive, especially considering you were literally locked in Marlowe Selwyn’s downstairs bathroom. Much as you’d expected, however, Sebastian was working you into a tizzy with sorely little effort, and you were as keen to feel him as he was to feel you. 

Sebastian hoisted your dress up your legs slowly, taking his time and observing your every reaction in the mirror with an intensity that made your head spin. “You’re certifiably insane, but fine,” you relented, dragging one of your hands in front of you to gingerly grasp Sebastian’s forearm. “We have to be quick though, I really don’t want anyone to come looking.” 

With your dress hiked up mostly out of the way, Sebastian had enough leeway to run his palms up your bare stomach, gently scratching his nails along the soft, smooth skin as he went. “The absolute last thing I want to do is rush through this… you know I like to take my time.” 

“Then save the rest of your horny fantasies for after we get home. Unless you secretly want someone to walk in on us. Are you that eager for your boss to see your cock?”

You felt Sebastian’s deft hand scale down towards your aching center once more– only this time he slipped the appendage under the thin cotton of your underwear, and his fingers were instantly met with your pooling slick. He practically guffawed at your taunt and flashed you a cunning smirk through the mirror, “Now who’s certifiably insane?” 

“Still you. This was your idea, remember?” 

He chuckled darkly against your ear as he finally slid one of his slender digits through your sopping wet folds, and the shaky breath you let out was like music to his ears. Your lips parted around a moan as he began working you open on his finger, your grip on his arm tightening just barely to keep yourself upright as you practically melted against his chest. Sebastian set an even rhythm, focusing intently on getting as deep within you as he could given the precarious angle, but he was utterly adoring watching you fall apart in the reflection of the mirror. There was no chance he would risk moving you around and lose his opportunity to witness your pleasure so closely. 

Trailing hot kisses down your neck and across your exposed shoulder, Sebastian curled his finger inside your pulsing heat, pressing and twisting expertly inside of your familiar core to prepare you for what you both desperately wanted. Your airy whimpers bounced off the marble walls of the bathroom, imbuing Sebastian with a vigor that had his cock twitching avidly against your ass. 

“I’ll make you feel so good, darling,” Sebastian murmured directly in your ear, subtly withdrawing his finger before plunging back in with a second. A keening whine slipped from your throat as you wriggled your hips back onto his fingers, the wet sounds reaching your ears and making you flush impossibly further. “I’ve wanted this since I left last week– you’re so fucking perfect, Merlin, the things you do to me…”

Sebastian’s praises had you sighing loudly, your resolve a thing of the past as you took in the sinful scene playing out in the mirror. His strong arm draped across your front to hold your throat effectively caged you to him, and his imposing stature behind you dwarfed you in comparison. At this point in your adult lives, he towered over you, and some inherent, primal part of you loved that fact. 

Everything transpiring was almost enough to lull the two of you into a slower, more sensual pace, until the distinct sound of heavy footsteps from down the hall had you both tensing in place. You let go of Sebastian’s arm to cover your mouth, not trusting yourself to remain quiet without some help– especially because your husband didn’t stop finger fucking you. The conniving bastard flashed you a grin that said it all; he didn’t give a single shit if anyone heard you. 

Maybe he really was an exhibitionist. 

The footsteps got closer, closer, until they bypassed the bathroom entirely and continued further down the hall to enter a different room. You exhaled a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding and let your hand slide away from your mouth, fixing Sebastian with a sharp look despite your disheveled appearance. 

“Please Sebastian, hurry up,” you managed to squeak out through your tight throat. The pressure building in your gut was borderline torturous, and a wanton moan tumbled from your wine stained lips when he scissored his fingers right before he curled them again, fuck–

“Are you that worried about being caught?” He mused, his mouth watering hungrily when you turned your head to bury your face in the crook of his neck. 

“Yes,” you whispered against his heated skin. “J-Just– come on–”

Sebastian raised his shoulder to jostle you out of your hiding spot, swiftly capturing your lips in a desperate kiss that made your knees tremble and left your mind blank. His tongue delved deep in your mouth, tangling with your own as he swallowed every tiny mewl his fingers pulled from you. As much as he loved the prospect of teasing you, he was impatient too. Not as a result of being discovered— but because it had already been an entire week since he’d been inside of you— and the phantom feeling had haunted his every waking moment in Poland. 

Licking his lips, his dark eyes hot with pure lust, Sebastian pulled his fingers from your throbbing cunt and carefully walked you forward so your hip bones were pressed against the bathroom counter. You felt his hands trail up your waist to tug down your undergarments, letting them fall around your ankles haphazardly. It seemed to pain him to step away, but he did it anyway to undo his belt and release his cock from the confines of his trousers and briefs altogether. It sprung free and he moved directly behind you once more, the lush feeling of his girthy member settling between your cheeks enough to make you twitch your hips back in a silent invitation. 

Sebastian’s broad hands found your hips again, hastily moving your dress out of the way so he could grip you with a strength that had your mouth drying out instantly. “Do you think you can keep quiet or should I cast a silencing charm just in case?”

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” you growled over your shoulder at him. His throaty laugh was his only reply before you felt his weight settle over your back, his lips pressing soothingly against your shoulder as he slowly and carefully spread you open with his thick cock. 

“F-Fuck, darling– you’re so warm–” he grit through his clenched teeth, barely restraining himself as he bottomed out and slid his sweaty palms up your body to feel along the sensual curve of your waist. Having the good grace to give you a second to adjust, Sebastian’s labored breathing filled the room, and your head fell forward between your shoulders at the overwhelming fullness you felt. “Is it okay?”  

“Gods, yes–” you gasped out as he ground into you slightly. “Were you always this big?”

That was all he needed to hear for his patience to evaporate into thin air.

Sebastian’s hold on you tightened as he abruptly set to filling you in short, quick thrusts, using your hips as leverage to pull you back onto his cock. His eyes damn near crossed at the feeling— instilling you with the willpower to meet him halfway— and you started rocking back into him with stuttering, panting breaths as your eyes fluttered shut. For a few heated moments, all that could be heard were both of your throaty moans echoing off the bathroom walls, coupled with your needy pleas for “More, Sebastian, more,” which in turn had your lover growling as he started fucking you harder and deeper. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin was fucking intoxicating. You threw your head back with your eyes clenched shut, biting your lip to stifle a groan, and Sebastian took full advantage of your closer proximity to grab a fistful of your hair and yank you back towards him. His other hand stayed planted firmly on your hip, holding you steady as he railed into you in search of that magic spot that he knew would reduce you to a boneless heap. All you could do was grip the rim of the sink and pray to whatever higher power existed that you would make it through the night without being branded a harlot by your husband’s co-workers. 

Leaning down to bite at the side of your neck, you heard and felt Sebastian’s raspy command against your sweat-slick skin, “Open your eyes and watch me fuck you– watch how good you look taking my cock– come on sweetheart, open those pretty eyes for me, please?” 

How the hell were you supposed to say no to that? 

You cracked open your bleary eyes to find Sebastian’s carnal expression fixed solely on you over your shoulder. The red flush that covered you from head to toe was offset by the dark green coloring of your dress, and your hair was beyond messy gathered in Sebastian’s unrelenting vice grip. In turn, he looked positively animalistic; still decked out in his Auror uniform, his appearance was incredibly striking, and the fire that burned behind his eyes was as commanding as it was reverent. He broke eye contact briefly to look down between you both– enamored with the way you seemed to suck his cock in deeper with every hurried thrust– and when he glanced back at your half-hooded eyes taking in the sight of him, he felt a pang of arousal shoot straight to his core. 

“Merlin, you’re gorgeous. You look so pretty with my cock in you, darling,” Sebastian all but purred at your reflection, and the broken moan his comment elicited from you left him grinning like a madman. Your thighs shook with the intensity of your mounting pleasure, and he made a show of releasing your hip to drag his hand sensually down the front of your dress again. “You love it, don’t you? Being filled up by me with dozens of people around? You’re doing so good, I missed this– I missed you.”

The pointed thrust Sebastian bestowed on you did you both a slew of favors. Your eyes went wide and rolled closed as the head of his cock brushed past that hypersensitive spot deep within you, and your mouth fell open as a loud, unconcealed cry snaked its way up your throat. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you heard as Sebastian moaned at the way you squeezed around him, ramming his hips against you faster in a bid to fuck your orgasm out of you in rough, claiming thrusts. 

Sebastian’s name fell from your lips again, muffled by your hand, and your legs quaked under you as you were rendered limp against the countertop. Your nails dug into the sides of your cheeks as you frantically looked towards the door– the knowledge that any one of the people here could walk in and find you setting your teeth on edge in ways you’d never anticipated. A deep rooted groan slipped through your fingers as you chanced a look over your shoulder at your husband with desperate eyes. 

At this point, Sebastian knew your tells almost better than he knew his own. He released your hair from his fist to plaster himself to you, pounding his cock into your wet heat as he whispered, “Are you close, darling? Want to come?” 

Nodding brainlessly, you gasped into your hand before you ripped it away from your face and slapped it against the counter, your nails scrambling to find purchase atop the smooth surface. You were getting close– so close– but you didn’t trust yourself not to wail out for more, so you just trembled beneath Sebastian and hoped that he could feel your looming finish. 

His strong fingers flexed and dug into your hip as his other hand crept lower under your bent torso, seeking out your soaked clit expertly, and as soon as he found it, there was little time for you to brace yourself for the tight circles he brutally bestowed upon you. 

“F-Fuck, fuck,” you cried out, eternally grateful to be half-laying on the countertop, because there was no fucking way your legs could support you through the blissful haze that clouded your mind. “Sebastian, please–”

It was too much. Your breath caught in your throat as you shivered, whining against the cool marble finish beneath you as Sebastian rammed into you, timing his thrusts with his fingers at your throbbing center. The filthy, wet sounds emanating from between the two of you made his head go completely empty, and he sank his teeth into your shoulder to stifle his own lustful groans as his hand between your legs picked up its pace. 

“Come for me, love– come on my cock, please, I need you to,” Sebastian fucking whimpered against the spit-slick imprint of his teeth, and the tenor to his voice told you he was right there on the cusp with you. 

The pressure from his fingers and his rough pace was more than enough to send you spiraling, and when you finally came, it took everything in you not to scream Sebastian’s name at the top of your lungs. You rode out the pulses of ecstasy with your tongue clamped between your teeth to fight the noises that threatened to give you both away, but the brunet had no such qualms and pumped into your tightening walls once, twice, then came with a guttural moan that echoed off the walls of the bathroom. 

Sebastian muttered your name softly as he sucked in shaky breaths after a moment, rocking his hips into you until he’d emptied himself completely and you were nothing more than a frail, twitching heap under him. Your overstimulated walls seemingly clamped around him even more when he leaned forward to pepper featherlight kisses against your temple, wringing mind-bending waves of pure rapture from him until it started to hurt from how sensitive he was. 

Sliding out of you with a contented sigh, Sebastian dotingly ran his hands down your sides to stir you from your post-coital stupor. You lifted your head to blearily stare at him through the mirror, doing your best to commit his fucked-out appearance to memory– and ironically, he seemed to be doing the same. 

“What do you think?” He asked you after a few heated seconds. “Do you think anyone heard?” 

He may as well have doused you with a bucket of ice water. You didn’t even want to consider the possibility. 

Miraculously, you found the strength to push yourself off the counter with quivering arms, grateful that Sebastian was there to steady you on your near boneless legs. “I’d rather not stay and find out, to be honest,” you murmured under your breath, and he chuckled as he brought his hands up to rake through his curly, mused hair. 

���Fine by me,” he acquiesced quickly. “What do you say we bail and continue this at home? Preferably horizontally.” 

This man and his one-track mind… you had to fight your smile with everything in you. “Don’t you think you should say something to Marlowe first?” 

Sebastian scoffed as he stuffed his softening cock back in his trousers, then bent down to gently tug your underwear up your shaky legs. “Say what? ‘Thanks for holding us hostage for another day after practically living together for a week’ or ‘Sorry for fucking my wife in your downstairs bathroom, have a great night’? Doesn’t sound very appealing to me.”

“Fair enough… Irish goodbye then?” 

Sebastian’s grin split his face as he cocked his head to the side, affectionately working to fix up your hair. He let his fingers trail smoothly along your jaw until they were under your chin, tilting your head up towards him so he could kiss you with zeal that left you excited to return home. The way his lips molded to yours was tantamount to perfection, and you knew then and there that you would agree to anything he asked of you. You’d missed him far too much to deny him a damn thing. 

“Irish goodbye,” he agreed coyly. 

You let Sebastian clean you up a bit more before he led you out of the bathroom and through the foyer, ignoring the direction of the dining room entirely in favor of the front door. Quieter than mice, the two of you escaped into the chilly night, laughing at the sheer absurdity of your antics the entire ride home. Sebastian’s wandering hands distracted you brilliantly for the bulk of the journey, and by the time you made it home, your earlier concerns had dissipated fully from your mind. 

You never did find out if Mr. Selwyn or his party-goers were privy to your escapades after that, and quite truthfully, you didn’t think you ever wanted to find out. 

[your-favblondie]

The Genius

ART CREDIT: novalise1 on Twitter

(I found this on Pinterest so if I'm wrong please correct me)

Hi again, thank you guys so much for the amazing support on my last post!! And I hope this post also lives up to your guy's expectations.

Word Count: 2.1k (and somehow 11k characters?! TuT)

-----Younger Armin ( Bowl Cut ) -----

Armin wasn't exactly the most social type back then, so I imagine for you two to get close enough to date you must have spent quite a bit of time together.

I can think of a few ways you two may have met and gotten close. Maybe you guys sat next to each other in classes, were sparring partners, or maybe you were there for Armin all the times Mikasa and Eren seemed to have forgotten he was also a part of their friend group.

It had been just a few minutes after lights out when Sasha shook me out of bed and yelled whispered for me to grab my coat and follow her. By the time we were out of the cabin a few of the other girls had gotten up and were grabbing a few items. Sasha led our small group until we reached a clearing in the forest, a good distance from the bases. "Sasha, what's all this?" I asked her as the rest of our group ran over to their own friends. "It's a party, Duh." She said looking at me with a goofy smile until Connie yelled for her to come help him roll a joint. I watched her run off and then made my way to a group of my classmates sitting in a circle. Jean, Ymir, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin Arlet all sat around a small bonfire. Spewing out a few 'hey's and 'hello's before claiming a seat in the circle. Jean and Ymir were in some argument over brunettes or blondes being cuter, and next to them Eren sat trying to carve a spoon out of a small log. Mikasa and Armin were talking about something I couldn't really make out over the sound of the fire crackling and Jean and Ymir arguing. As I watched the fire crackle all I had on my mind was why the hell Sasha had brought me along. It's not like I'm antisocial but I hadn't really established many close friends and the ones I had were human meatballs now. So a party wasn't the most comfortable place to hang out. Before I could continue my thoughts I got distracted by Mikasa getting up pretty abruptly and running after Eren who had somehow broken the log he was carving and wanted to look for a new one. Doubt we'd see them again tonight. My eyes flicked over to Armin and as we looked at each other, a mirror of slight shock reflected on both our faces. Before either pf us could look away I burst into laughter at Mikasa's weird behavior and Armin just stared at me even more confused than before. "I'm sorry it's just I never see anyone so serious act like that, I'm not trying to be rude she just catches me off guard," I tell him, feeling like he may have kinda misunderstood me. A shy smile pulls on his lips as he looks back at me. "Yea it is kinda odd isn't it?"

And that's where your friendship bloomed from. A right place and right time you could say. Though Sasha says it's all thanks to her.

Over time the two of you became really close. While Armin read you'd sit near him fiddling with your own hobbies. Sometimes you'd get caught up in him and end up spending a few moments watching him while his eyes scoured over dusty pages.

Armin was such a sweet friend, always asking how you are, being there to talk, explaining the stuff you don't understand from class to you a million times until you understand.

And once again you both were at a party when your guy's relationship finally takes the next step.

Through a stupid game of truth or dare...

Sasha scans over each and every one of us as she carefully picks her victim. "Jean!" She exclaims and Jean looks at her with an annoyed expression. Sasha and Connie have been picking on him all night, each time either giving him the truth of exposing his crush on Mikasa or the dare of letting them draw on his face. This time was no different as Sasha added a small horse on his forehead that would definitely not be gone by tomorrow. After Sasha got done we all burst out laughing. "Hey!" Jean yelled, "It's my turn alright so shut it!" And of course, I had responded to him with a snarky "Okay, Horse face" Jean turned to me with a sarcastic smile and asked me truth or dare. "Dare" I chose nervously. Jean turns to Connie and they start to whisper between themselves before Jean turns to me with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Kiss Armin."

So now here you and Armin were. At first, he'd be kinda shy about y'all's relationship but I could see you bringing out a more confident side of him.

He would be the type to remember all the little anniversaries, picking you a small bouquet for your first month.

Now I can't see him being great at making gifts but he would try his hardest!

Would definitely choose you as his partner for almost all group activities. Don't think that means he's gonna let you do no work, oh no no no. This man would rather teach you it a million times than let you get by being ignorant. (Sees this as an act of service kinda love lol) Told you before with the most serious face that " Knowledge was the greatest currency he knew"

Speaking of acts of service, that and praise is probably his love language. Of course, he would love holding your hand, a little bit of cuddling, or a few pecks on the cheek. But when he wants to show his love for you he'd tell you what he's thinking and just genuinely spend a lot of time with you.

I can't see him being big on any forms of PDA, except hand-holding. Hear me out though, I think he'd be the type to hold pinkies instead though.

I could see him writing you hundreds of love letters he'd never give to you but be too scared to get rid of them in case someone else (Jean and Connie) read them, or God forbid you saw them.

He would swap books with you if you were an avid reader. ( Would want for you guys to make matching bookmarks as a kinda of date!! )

But if you were more of a sporty type then he'd definitely love to watch you play, even if he cares nothing for the game itself. Maybe even give you some pointers he noticed or help you strategize. After watching you for awhile he would be able to go on like hour-long rants breaking down each and every little detail and rule of the game and way overthinking it.

Now if you guys for whatever have a fight he'd be quick to apologize because he'd never want you mad at him. (Still believes he's right though, just won't tell you that )

Definitely has a few red flags and will work on some of them.

When he's struggling with all the things going on with Eren, one of his main stress relievers would be you playing with his hair, tracing your nails against his scalp.

If you ask realllllyyyy nicely he just might let you braid his hair or tie it up. Even though he knows he won't hear the end of it from the others.

Surprised you a few times with flower rings he made for you.

I could see him being really involved in the wedding planning. If it was up to him either a light purple or sea blue color theme.

In a more modern au, I could see him offering to paint your nails for you if you ever complain about it being able to get them done. He would spend hours trying to perfect it and maybe it didn't match the reference perfectly but they were perfect to you ♡

(These are less relationship-focused and more so things I think about Armin )

Struggles so much with Eren always doing everything so rashly and getting into trouble that he never lets anyone help with it. I feel like he may have had a fear of being replaced or left behind by Eren and Mikasa because he isn't as strong as them.

Just someone tell him he's making the right choices and that he can't make everything right. He needs to hear that.

Jean and him are really close and hang out a lot. Jean is a way more chill and less stressful friendship for Armin compared to half of his other friendships. I can see Armin feeling like he needs to be a therapist friend for everyone, outside of just Eren and Mikasa too, big people pleaser.

Jean just really knows how to chill and not ask a lot of Armin, of course they've talked about heavy stuff before but it's a lot more talking from both of them rather than Armin needing to comfort the other person. Every once in awhile Jean actually is the therapist for Armin.

He does grow out of that though. Starts to become a lot more set in reality after seeing all the deaths in the recon missions. Some meaningless little drama isn't something he needs to focus on helping a fellow cadet out with. Still holds onto some of his people-pleasing tendencies but has figured out a lot of his priorities in his personal life.

I think Armin truly believed that fighting those bullies back in his childhood wouldn't have been the right choice and wasn't just because he was weaker.

I could see him knowing how to play a ton of card games that he learned from his grandpa.

I also think at one point he learned how to sew from Eren's mom. Eren would tease him by saying things about how he's "finally fitting into his girly hair" Then when he actually tries it and sees how hard it is and how much better Armin was he quits the teasing comments.

I think Armin has a lot of trust issues in almost everyone after figuring out Annie was a traitor. To him, they seemed pretty close and had a good understanding of each other. But Annie's betrayal really shattered some of his innocence and trust in the world.

One time he told Connie that if he walked around barefoot he could get flesh-eating worms. Connie was a bit more than traumatized by that information.

As sweet as Armin seems he is honestly so manipulative. It can hardly be noticed by anyone except maybe Commander Erwin or Levi but Armin's a bit too smart to try it on them. He accidentally tried to manipulate Commander Erwin one day over something small and when Erwin subtly commented on it he almost died of shock.

I could see Armin having a lot of respect for his superiors but not being the type to follow them blindly. Like the smart kid who isn't afraid to correct the teacher. And yes he was that type of student, to an annoying extent.

Armin as a student mostly just studied the material he was being tested on to a point where he was confident he knew it. And then would dig extremely deep into any topics that interest him. He knew every type of rock that existed inside the walls but couldn't remember his 12 multiple facts.

He definitely isn't antisocial or introverted. A little shy, yes, but mainly he's just a extrovert or ambivert who's not very loud. In no way has he ever been afraid of talking to people or making his thoughts known.

Speaking of talking to people, him and Hange are total geek besties. The spent hours looking at the hardened titan skin fragment and theorizing on all sorts of topics

I think when he was younger he saw a really huge pond and thought he had some how found the ocean inside the walls.

Probably would spend days going on picnics with his parents and reading in flower fields before the wall break. Once tried to bring Eren and Mikasa on one and never got any reading done.

This man's library card would be personalized in his favorite color (sea blue) and bedazzled.

I could see Armin being a really big Jazz and blue grass guy. Mostly because it's non-lyrical and doesn't tend to distract him as easily.

Would bust down to some Megan thee stallion and nasty redd. I mean, look at that stance-

————————————————————

Sorry to all those hoping for older Armin, I STILL haven't watched season 3/4 of AoT so I don't really have too many thoughts on older Armin other than that ma is SOOO FINEE Soon enough I'll write for him, and yes there will be another poll for writings posted after this post!! I like when you guys interact with the story's makes it feel really personal. And thank you again to everyone who liked and reposted my last post!! It did so much better than I ever expected. A Big thank you to all my new followers. I'm so glad to have you guys as followers!! And I hope this post is just as good as the other if not better.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine a secret forest rendezvous with King Caspian…

As most of the company had started laying their blankets for the night, Caspian took your hand and your attention.

“I want to show you something.” He said gently. Holding a little tighter, you stepped away from the group and followed the man who held your heart into the forest. After a few twists and turns, you were adamant that you were lost but Caspian was confident that he knew the way. Sundown had just begun casting a warm glow through the treetops.

“Does this little rendezvous have an end or are we planning to run through the course of the forest?” You laughed.

Caspian chuckled. “A few more steps, I promise.” He replied and it was the truth.

He stopped at a very small clearing where a patch of the most soft-looking grass had been sitting.

You looked at the way he beamed at you but couldn’t understand it’s meaning.

“I’m a little confused.”

Caspian’s smile faltered, his eyes wide. “You don’t know what this is?” He asked and received a small head shake in return. Taking your shoulders, he turned you to face the small patch of land and moved closer to your ear as he spoke in a whisper.

“This is an ancient magical root that grows in rare forests of Narnia. They become patches of land and it is said that their magical properties are for lovers.” He explained.

“And what makes it so special?”

“Well, it is said that when two lovers step onto the grass, all time stops for them to do as their minds wander.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as you leaned into him a little. “And where does your mind wander?”

“Would you like me to show you?” He teased, breath now tickling your skin.

Taking in a deep breath to clear your mind, you turned around and pulled him close to capture his lips.

“Show me.” You whispered.

Laughing, Caspian led you towards the magical grass and you both disappeared from sight and sound of the normal world.

~ More imagines here ~

A/n: Happy Valentines x

[bories]

masterlist ⋆｡˚☆

can you guys tell i love werewolves?

quick background info: i like to imagine reader as charlie's "adopted shortly after bella left him" kid. so she's close w bella but also kinda lagging behind when it comes to hearing about whats going on around her. this also takes place in eclipse <3

!!! i took some inspiration from @the-wolf-moon-diaries' Hold a Light Back to My Soul and the idea from @lunajay33's My Beast and i highly recommend their stories!

i definitely gotta write a pt 2 where we meet up again, don't i? damn

weird dog ... seth clearwater x reader

word count: 1512, warnings: swearing, running away, giant wolf?? a tad boring

Some days can be rough as hell around here, and dealing with them can be just as hard. There's not much to do in Forks, besides drive down to La Push, or wander in and out of the small stores around town, or even wander the hiking trails. But regardless, you need out, you gotta go.

Everything keeps piling up, looming over you, and it's all about to come crashing down. You're sick of hearing about some vampire army, and Bella's stupid love triangle, and now even werewolves--so you decide to leave. Slipping into some boots, you run out the door, barely caring if you make noise.

Not sure of where to go, you just pick a direction and run. You break out into a sprint until you get stomach cramps.

Slowing down, you walk and catch your breath as you reach the entrance to a hiking trail. It's far too late into the night for anyone to be out there unless they're camping, and even then they'd be holed up in their tents for the night. Regardless, though, you deviate from the path and just wander through the trees, not wanting to run into anyone.

Never slowing down, you begin to think about your safety in the forest so late.

It'll be fine, you tell yourself, Besides, if I get lost, someone'll just come find me like they found Bella that one time. With vampires and werewolves, it can't be that hard.

You roll your eyes at the thought of both species of weird being unable to track you down.

Your stomach stops hurting and you keep strolling through the forest, dodging trees and hopping off any big rocks you find. Taking in the forest around you, you start to wonder how long you've been gone.

No more than, like, half an hour. Maybe 45. D'you think Dad has noticed yet? you ask yourself. Definitely not.

After a few more minutes worth of walking and avoiding thinking too much, you stop in a little clearing. It's less of a clearing and more like trees getting a little more sparse, but you don't mind.

You sit on a rock and look up. The trees here are far apart enough to get a small, but clear shot of the sky.

"Nice," you smile. And for a few minutes, all you do is stare at the stars in silence.

Your eyelids start to feel heavy as your body really relaxes. You slide off the rock so you're sitting on the ground, leaned against it, still looking up.

I mean, this isn't the most uncomfortable pillow I've used. And I don't think I'd make it home anyways, you think, justifying sleeping against that rock to yourself. I'll go back in the morning if no one finds me by then. Sounds like a solid plan.

You yawn and close your eyes while turning onto your side against the rock. The quiet sounds of the forest lull you to sleep as your mind wanders. It wanders from the Cullens, to La Push, to how you miss the beach, to how you might go there next time you want to run away for a night, to how you'd even get there alone.

Being nearly asleep, you don't pick up on the fact that the forest is suddenly void of sound. Any animals around you have left, the leaves having stopped rustling, even the wind no longer blowing. But it's not until you hear the crunching of twigs behind you that your eyes shoot open, wide and aware. You hear panting, slow and steady, and you don't dare move.

Shit, is it a bear? 'If it's black, fight back,' right? We only have black bears around here. God, should I get up? Playing dead only works on brown bears--shit. Mind racing, your eyes squeeze shut until you come to a decision.

You abruptly stumble to your feet and start screaming, trying to scare away whatever's behind you, until you actually turn around. Your scream shifts from "trying-to-assert-dominance" to "trying-not-to-die-tonight" as you register what's found you. Not a black bear, but a brown wolf. A huge brown wolf. It even pulls away from you, startled by your screaming.

"Holy shit! Holy shit!" You stagger backwards and trip over a small rock, falling on your ass. You curse to yourself and look back up at the beast. It watches you, and for a moment, you two just stare at one another.

Your eyes are full of fear, mouth open, ready to scream, chest rising and falling with every uncertain breath. The wolf huffs and its head dips down towards you as it sniffs you. In response, you weakly try to shuffle backwards, unsure of what to do. It lets out another huff, backing away, never breaking eye contact.

To your surprise, it sits. It sits there and just looks at you.

You take a deep breath in and out and try to calm yourself. "Hoo... Okay," you're cautious to speak, afraid of what might happen. "Hey there, uh, buddy?"

It doesn't move. "You, uh--you won't hurt me, huh? Right?"

It huffs. "Great. Very trustworthy."

Standing up slowly, you're wary of the wolf still watching your every move. You relax as the wolf seems uninterested in attacking you.

You sigh, "Now what? One wrong move and I might as well scream for the Cullens to come bite me."

You start talking to yourself, "This is what you get for being stupid. 'Oh, it's just the big bad trees. What's the worst that could happen?' I said. Yeah, right. Idiot."

The wolf's head cocks to the side as you scold yourself.

"And you," you gesture towards the wolf, "what're you gonna do? God, what am I doing? Threatening a giant wolf? I really am a genius."

You stop rambling and take a breath. "Okay. This is fine."

Your shoulders finally slump as you take in the wolf. It's as tall as the average human, taller even, with brown fur that looks darker at night. It's eyes are brown and captivating, almost unnaturally humanlike. Regardless, you can't help but find it beautiful.

"You're not that scary, are you?" You flash it a weak smile, "I bet you're just like a big puppy. You're so big that if you were red I'd call you Clifford," you laugh.

Taking slow steps towards the wolf, you raise your hand as non-threateningly as you can. "Can I pet you?" It watches you with curiosity.

"That's kind of a dumb question, isn't it? You can't really," your hand is inches from its head, "...respond." It leans into your touch as you begin softly stroking its fur.

"See," you chuckle, "you're not so mean."

It huffs and lies down. "What, you're tired? I bet you had a long day of scaring campers, didn't you?" You sit down beside the wolf, "I'm tired, too, you know? You actually kind of woke me up."

It watches you blankly. "I accept your apology, don't worry."

With a yawn, you start petting its fur again. "Pretty soft for a wild wolf," you mutter.

Your eyes start feeling heavy again and you lean against the wolf. "You don't mind, right?" Your words come out slowly, tired.

A huff in response. "Great, thanks. You're a much better pillow than that rock was," you trail off and close your eyes.

As your body relaxes against the wolf, the pace of your breathing matches the wolf's, and your mind starts to wander again. Wandering from how warm the wolf is, to the sun, to how you used to stare at the sun as a kid, to how you miss sunbathing on the beach, to planning your next day at the beach.

You barely mutter a "G'night," and drift off to sleep.

Throughout the night, the wolf watches over you as you sleep curled up with it. At sunrise, it stands, leaving you lying on the ground, and it begins to nudge you awake with its snout. You're startled awake by the wolf in your face and sit up, finding your bearings.

"Oh," you say, rubbing your eyes. "Right, good morning, I guess." The wolf pants at you, mouth open. "God, I really spent the night out here... Shit--has dad noticed?"

The wolf watches as you stand up and look around, looking for the direction you came in. Once you recognize the way home, you turn to say goodbye to the wolf. It stares at you, tall and unmoving.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm about to be in huge trouble."

Its tongue licks its nose. You smile with a sigh and shake your head, "I'll miss you, too. Don't scare too many people while I'm gone, alright?"

It bows its head as you pet it goodbye. "I'll find you again. I'll come back, tonight or tomorrow. And you better be here."

You turn and begin walking away, thinking to yourself, Weirdest dog I've ever met.

You look back once and it's gone. As silently as it had snuck up on you the previous night, it had gone.

[xappetites]

sort of a continuation of this w/Frank and fBell

Frank is no stranger to barbershop banter, he might not spend all that time in town, even when he’s home, but he’s been getting semi regular post-mission cuts here for long enough to be counted as a regular.

So he doesn’t really mind the ribbing, his barber poking fun at how he should let his hair grow out like the youngins do, and he’ll throw in a perm for free. That is until the grocer down the street, currently getting his beard trimmed, makes an off hand comment about Bell.

“Doesn’t seem like the missus would be a fan, though.”

And it isn’t like Frank’s fucking bothered, it’s just this is the first time he thinks of the situation with Bell —living in his house and sleeping in his bed, making his coffee and strong arming her way into paying at least the electricity bill— as something that might stick. And he needs a minute to sort through the ache in his chest.

A forfuckingever thing, instead of the vague suspicion that he won’t find her there when comes back stateside, the bracing himself for an empty house he’s been doing for the better part of two years now.

“What?” the barber stops, kills the trimmer even, so he can be heard loud and damn clear. “If you ain’t planning on marrying that pretty thing living with you, better break it to her soon then. She’s started raising chickens.”

“Not sure she’s the marrying type.”

It’s not a lie, Bell’s quicksilver in Frank’s mind, half a cool little stream after hoofing it across the jungle for days and half forest fire. The word ‘wife’ itself feels weird, no matter how many times he’s let her know that he loves her as he comes.

The barber drops it, thankfully, though he shakes his head at Frank like he’s the stupidest son of a bitch that’s graced his chair today.

But it distracts him, the whole fucking thing, nags at him like a mosquito bite in the crack of the ass. So he has to bring it up, and he’s sure he sounds annoyed as hell about it, because he is.

Bell laughs —easy, without mockery—, perched sidesaddle in his lap, because of course she does. This is why he preemptively imagines a world without her, practices losing her in his mind so it doesn’t kill him when it happens for real.

“You ever think about tying the knot?”

“I’m legally dead Frank, I don’t think I’m allowed to get married anymore.”

“But you would, if you could?”

“I’d walk my ass hand in hand with you into city hall tomorrow if I had a valid ID, love”

She kisses him to make her point, in that mesmerizing fucking way of hers, and she rides him half to death that night, fingers interlocked and mumbling his name like a prayer.

So Frank calls a guy, someone he trusts to take his payment and keep their mouth shut. An old CIA contact who minds their businesses.

And he thinks he could make it romantic, should probably; he just— can’t wait.

All he does in the end is slide the two cards over the table towards Bell one morning, as soon as they arrive. Valid, legal, forged by the best: a driver’s license and state ID for his best girl, with her name sitting pretty on them, joined by a simple, solid ‘Woods’.

To call her his wife still feels weird, but this is right. As right as her laughter, bright and so sudden it almost makes her choke on her coffee. Right as the way she fits in his arms, talking about rings and looking at him with eyes half closed, like she’s looking at the sun.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Honor and Espionage Part Two

Aramis x Reader

Words: 5013

Part One

Summary: Shut away in the ambassador’s mansion with a woman who knows her true identity, the reader attempts to complete her task. Aramis must wait helplessly as the fatal night ticks on. 

Notes: I cannot even begin to explain how much of a chokehold this man has me in. Aramis has stolen my heart, and I hope there are those of you who can relate! Let me know what you think, these are just such fun characters. (I also plan to do more with this reader/Aramis dynamic in the future, including the story of how they met)

Warnings: Violence, blood, angst, more steaminess 

Find more Musketeers: HERE

-

The doors closed and the last of the guests appeared to be inside. Aramis tucked his spyglass away with a frustrated sigh. He could see you now in his mind, your dazzling smile winning over the guests and the ambassador, your charm earning your way to more secluded areas of the house. Areas with information. Areas with proof of his treason. Aramis had seen firsthand how skilled and precise you were at your job. But that didn’t keep the turning in his gut from adding to the pained worry in his chest. 

The musketeer leaned back against the bark of the tree he’d hidden behind. The others were in similar positions, all glancing up at the house for any sign of trouble. 

D’Artagnan shifted, leaning toward him with a raised brow. “How do you do it?” He asked. “I imagine marriage would be hard enough when only one of you is a musketeer, but both of you?”

Aramis looked up at the boy and found only innocent curiosity on his face, as well as a hint of admiration. He inhaled deeply and ran a hand through his hair. Aramis knew of the younger man’s complicated feelings for a particular merchant’s wife. Perhaps all he was looking for was a little hope. 

“It isn’t easy, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that,” he said, a small smile teasing his lips. “But I think it helps us understand each other more than we would if we lived in a cottage somewhere.” Aramis chuckled. “Perhaps understand isn’t the right word…” In all his years of knowing you, he found that your mind was one he had yet to comprehend. Luckily, trying was one of his favorite activities. 

“What is then?” D’Artagnan rested his arm on his knee and tilted his head. “The right word?” 

Aramis contemplated the question for a while, listening to the distant sounds of the forest around the ambassador’s property and the occasional laugh streaming from one of the open windows. 

“I don’t know, ‘appreciate,’ I suppose,” he answered. D’Artagnan noticed the intense sincerity overtaking his features. “I cherish every moment I have with her because of everything we’ve been through. I worship each second breathing the same air as her as if any inhale may be my last. Because when I even think of a world where her voice has been silenced and her heart has been stopped…” He trailed off, turning back to the house. “I know my soul would follow her, even if my body could not.” 

Porthos’s deep and thoughtful laugh joined their conversation. He sat with his head tilted back and a smirk on his face. 

“Always the romantic hero type, eh?” He said. “Both you and her.” 

“Yes, Porthos, I am a man guilty of loving my wife and she is guilty of the same. Tease all you like.” Aramis smiled to himself, still facing the place where his wife could be in danger and he’d have no way of knowing until it was too late. 

Porthos shifted so he was sitting beside him. He put a hand on his shoulder, gaze following his worried friend’s. 

“She’ll be alright, yeah? She always is.” 

“And if anything happens, we’re ready,” D’Artagnan added. 

Athos merely nodded but Aramis felt his support. All four men contemplated the situation in silence, each plagued with his own thoughts and concerns. Aramis forced slow breaths to calm himself but reached again for his spyglass to peer through any windows he had a clear sight of. 

D’Artagnan thought of the fierceness he’d already witnessed- had even been on the receiving end of- and had faith in your abilities. He felt sorry for anyone inside who’d be unfortunate enough to cross you. 

-

With the man who was to be your escort now rotting away with poison in his belly, you had to alter your story to one Treville would likely have a headache of explaining later on. Rather than the daughter of a prominent merchant in the area, you’d presented yourself as a friend of the king of France’s sister, the Duchess of Savoy, who was traveling with her brother- unable to attend the dinner due to a head cold he gained on the journey- and looking for an advantageous marriage. A forward approach, of course, but luckily it seemed the ambassador couldn’t resist a good challenge of pursuit. All of the other guests seemed to buy your story as well. 

Almost all of them. 

As you giggled mindlessly at something Laurent had said, you could feel the harsh, burning glare from your rival across the table. Milady de Winter, making conquests of her own, ensured that you couldn’t ignore her presence. Her intentions, you had yet to decipher, but you knew her presence could only mean trouble for you. 

Why had the cardinal sent a spy after the ambassador? Did he have the same information as Treville or were his motivations more sinister, as they often were? 

“Tell me, mademoiselle,” Milady began, the same knowing smugness in her voice as before, “what do you think of the rumors growing in Paris regarding the musketeers dueling with Cardinal Richelieu's noble Red Guard? I, for one, have been frightened of even stepping outside of my door.” 

Laurent grunted with an approving nod and took a drink of his wine. “A bunch of lawless miscreants, the lot of them.” He leaned forward so only the two of you could hear. “You know, I’ve heard that the imbecile Captain Treville even has some of his men following me.” 

“You poor dear,” you cried, placing your hand beside his, “how awful to be pursued by those brutes. I’ve personally spoken to the cardinal recently and he couldn't agree more with… I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name madame.” You stared pointedly at Milady. She didn’t blink. 

“Lady de Bonacieux.” 

You kept your face politely neutral, but inside you wanted to reach across and slap her. The use of your close friend’s last name was surely not a coincidence, but you failed to understand how she could know about your relationship with Constance. And her degradation of the musketeers was certainly meant to frustrate you, which meant she knew about your marriage to Aramis. But why not reveal you now? Why keep your identity a secret when it would benefit her much more to see the ambassador throw you out, or worse? 

“Ah, yes, we’ve met before,” you said. She wasn’t the only one with veiled threats up her sleeve. After all, you were not the only one here under false pretenses. “The cardinal introduced us once, did he not?” 

“I believe that was the occasion, yes.” 

“How lucky am I,” Laurent cheered, “to have friends of the cardinal’s on either arm.” 

You noted his boisterous tone and genuine glint in his eye. Either he was a much better liar than you anticipated, or there was something you had yet to discover. 

After dinner, Ambassador Laurent insisted on showing off his gardens to his guests before the men would separate to discuss subjects they felt were ‘too intense for the women’s delicate sensibilities.’ It always made you laugh, having to play the part of the naive ornament that they foolishly believed women to be. If any one of them could look into your mind and discover what you truly knew and understood, the burdens of knowledge you carried, they’d be terrified. 

Whereas, with your husband, your mind was his favorite thing about you. 

You pushed Aramis to the back of your thoughts again and continued batting your lashes at the idiots around you. 

Servants holding lanterns lined the paths of the garden, illuminated by the moonlight. Grand statues and topiaries were the center of Laurent’s boasts. You nodded and giggled and flattered until your brain was numb of boredom. 

A glint in the trees caught your eye. It was only for a second, but you could have sworn you saw movement. A flicker of silver. A contrast of blue-gray in the dark between the trees. 

You restrained yourself from groaning in frustration.

Surely, Athos was smarter than this. Surely, he wouldn’t allow for Aramis and the others to stake out the ambassador’s house because your husband was a touch too protective. Surely, they wouldn’t be that stupid. 

And yet… you knew it was them.

Aramis ducked behind the tree with his breath caught in his throat. 

“Do you think she saw me?” He whispered. Athos shot him a silencing glare. One trip, one loud noise could give away their presence. 

D’Artagnan eyed their leader and leaned over to Aramis. “She definitely saw you.” 

“Do you both want us to be shot?” Athos snapped. 

Aramis held a finger to his smirking lips. Athos’s blue eyes glared icy daggers. They all turned back to the group in the gardens and found that you’d looked away from their hiding spot. 

“Mademoiselle, have you seen your companion, Lady de Bonacieux?” Ambassador Laurent asked as he approached you. You’d only just noticed her absence yourself, sending a shock of panic through you that pushed the thoughts of your sneaking husband to the back of your mind. 

You gave Laurent a confused smile. “I haven’t, mousier. Perhaps she forgot something inside?” He looked to the house with a disappointed frown. “Oh, don’t let it upset you, sir. I’ll find her at once and we can continue our merriment.” 

There was something else in his expression, as well. A flicker of suspicion. But it was gone as soon as it had appeared, replaced by a smile of encouragement. 

“Don’t be gone long, my dear. I have yet to show you the largest of the statues.” 

“Of course.” You bowed and hurried back inside. 

In the trees, D’Artagnan’s teasing of Aramis halted with Porthos pointing to the gardens. 

“Look,” he said. Four pairs of eyes snapped over to watch you go. Porthos shook his head in confusion. “Where is she going?” 

“More importantly,” Athos said, motioning to another member of the gathering who retreated back into the house. “Where is he going?” Laurent’s ornately dressed form followed after you just long enough that you wouldn't notice. 

Aramis’s stomach dropped. He moved into a readied crouching position. “He’s discovered her. We have to help.” 

“Wait.” Athos held out a hand to stop him. “We must have faith in Y/N’s abilities. If we act too quickly, it could be a disaster for both her and us.” 

“But if he knows, he’ll kill her!” 

“Not with all of these people here,” Porthos noted the still full garden. “Even he’s not that stupid. He’d have to take her somewhere else if he’s going to kill her.”

“How surprisingly unhelpful,” Aramis snapped. 

But, with no other choice, he again remained, holding a clenched fist to his lips as he uttered more prayers he could only hope someone was listening to. 

Inside, you crept along the halls to the sounds of the crowd outside. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of them knew. How many knew of this man’s betrayal of his country and stood by and let it happen? How many helped him? 

You came upon a door on the second floor with movement and light streaming through the cracks. You removed the dagger you had strapped to your leg and opened it. Milady de Winter stood over the ambassador’s desk, rummaging through piles of parchment. 

“I expected a more subtle exit,” you said, closing the door behind you. “I believed you were more skilled than that. I thought wrong.” 

“Speed, in this situation, is favored for stealth, I’m afraid. Not all of us have musketeer husbands waiting to rescue us if this goes poorly.” She sneered at you over the countless letters and plans on the dark wood desktop. You froze. “Oh save me the shocked looks. It’s my job to know who you are.” 

“As it is mine to know who you work for,” you fired back. Of course, your marriage wasn’t a secret, but something about her knowing of Aramis made your skin crawl. “How did the cardinal find out about Laurent? No one else was supposed to know. Why would he send his favorite spy?” 

“Why indeed?” The growling voice behind you made your heart stop. A hand roughly grabbed your arm and the glower of Ambassador Laurent loomed over you. His burning gaze shifted over your shoulder. “What does the cardinal mean by this? I thought we had a deal?” 

“A deal?” You gasped, whirling around to look at Milady. “The cardinal is working with this traitor?” Laurent’s grip on your hand tightened and you forced a cry of pain back down your throat. 

“Unfortunately, you’ve run out of usefulness, ambassador. You’ve drawn too much attention to yourself, as this musketeer insider proves.” Milady said calmly. She raised her arm from behind the desk, aimed her pistol, and fired. “And someone has to clean up the mess.”

Laurent crumpled to the floor. 

Milady skirted around the desk with a cold, hard glare. “I’m afraid that goes for you too.” 

-

The crowd let out a collective gasp as the sharp sound rang through the night. The four men hiding in the shadows jumped to their feet. 

“Did you hear that?” Aramis exclaimed, not bothering to stay quiet anymore. 

“Steady, Aramis,” Athos urged, though he’d reached for his weapon. 

“We can’t wait any longer,” Porthos said. 

Aramis didn’t wait for an order. He dashed across the clearing separating them from the gardens. The other three swiftly followed. The guests gasped again upon seeing their approach. 

“Everyone remain calm,” Athos instructed. “We have everything under control.” His voice boomed with enough authority that nobody questioned him. 

Aramis’s feet carried him through the main door. Candlelight flickered in his vision. Gold shimmered from every surface it was nearly blinding. He whirled around, holding a hand out to stop the others, and listened. 

You dove for the weapon with one hand and slashed at her with your knife in the other. Milady knocked against the desk, sending parchment flying over the ambassador’s bloody body. 

“We could have made quite the team, you know,” she said. “The cardinal would have liked you, had you not married a musketeer of course. Aramis, isn’t it? I’m told he’s such a charmer.” She finished reloading her weapon. “Too bad you’ll never see him again. Husbands are useless anyway. He’ll betray you. Just wait.” 

You snatched a candlestick from the side table and launched it at her. She fired accidentally into the wall. In the bright flash of your weapon, a note caught your eye. There, on the edge of the desk, was a letter. In the moment you were able to read some of the words, you recognized it as Laurent’s plot to pay Savoyan soldiers to assassinate the king. And in the corner, was the cardinal’s signet. 

You swung your knife in Milady’s direction again, grabbing the letter and taking the second she had to reload to retreat. The ambassador’s guards met you in the hall. One reached for you. You plunged your knife into his arm and elbowed the other in the nose. If they pursued you, you didn’t turn to see. You ran. 

The second shot might as well have been through Aramis’s pounding heart. 

The third consumed his senses completely. 

With Porthos and Athos busy with more guards, he and D’Artagnan raced up the stairs. The ornate white marble brought them to the second floor where you laid with your back against the wall and a cloaked figure standing over you, gripping your arm as you screamed in agony. The figure tore something from your hands and hurried away without looking back. Aramis fired a shot but missed. 

“After her!” You shouted. You tried to pull yourself to your feet using the railing, but any movement in your arm shot searing pain through your body. Blood had already soaked the sleeve and side of your gown. 

“Go,” Aramis said to D’Artagnan. The young man sprinted after the assailant while Aramis rushed to your side. When his dark, beautiful eyes hovered over yours, you almost breathed a sigh of relief through your clenched teeth. 

“My arm,” you groaned. “The wretch shot me in the arm.”

Aramis examined the wound, lifting your limb gently. You took a sharp breath that sounded more like a whimper. He laid a hand on your cheek. 

“It’s bleeding too much.” Aramis unlatched his belt and wrapped it around your arm just below the shoulder. He tightened it and this time you couldn’t keep the scream at bay. “I know, love. But if I don’t remove the ball and sew the wound soon-”

“I’ll bleed to death,” you finished. There was a flicker of terror in his eyes. 

He saw the light leave your gaze, felt the warmth abandon your skin. He heard your final breaths as your blood stained his hands. He imagined his life without you. It was as dark and cold as a moonless night. The mere image of standing at your grave planted a seed of despair in his chest that he forced himself to push down in order to ensure that it didn’t become real. 

“That’s not going to happen.” 

Downstairs, Athos and Porthos’s battle showed no signs of ending. D’Artagnan returned with a shake of his head. Aramis put an arm under your legs and the other behind your back. He scooped you up and you bit back tears of anguish with every step as he ran. 

“I can walk,” you protested. “It’s my arm, not my ankle.” 

“Now is really not the time to argue, darling.” 

“What happened? Is she hurt?” D’Artagnan asked, keeping up beside you. 

“I need you to bandage her arm and apply pressure to the wound,” Aramis instructed. The younger musketeer tore off a piece of tapestry from the wall and wrapped it around your arm. 

“Sorry about this,” he said, pulling the fabric taught. 

You bit your lip and buried your face in Aramis’s chest. 

“What in God’s name happened?” Athos exclaimed. He and Porthos joined the rushing group. 

Aramis kept his eyes forward and his focus on you. “I need the ambassador’s cabin. She can travel on horseback and we need to get to a secure location for me to operate.” 

“Where is the ambassador?” Athos asked. 

You lifted your head. “He’s dead.” The four men exchanged a glance. You scoffed. “Don’t worry, I didn’t kill him.” 

“That might not matter,” Athos said. He held the door leading out to the path where carriages awaited. 

“What’s going on? Who are you?” The driver jerked the reins away from Porthos’s reaching hand. 

D’Artagnan lifted his gun. “We’re going to need to borrow this, monsieur.”

“Aramis, there’s something I need to tell you all,” you said, voice weaker than before. He lifted you into the carriage, keeping you close in his arms. 

“It will have to wait, darling.” He kissed your forehead. 

“But if I-”

“Don’t.” His tone was firm, but it shook with fear nonetheless. He gulped. “Everything is going to be fine.” 

-

A short ride away sat a small farmhouse, apparently abandoned. Porthos halted the carriage and the other two soon rejoined with the horses. Aramis hurried you inside. 

“She needs a drink. This is going to hurt.” 

Porthos held out a leather flask. “Why don’t we just do what you did with me?”

Aramis scowled. “I like her face the way it is. I’d rather you not damage it.” 

“I’ll have to agree with my husband on that.” You snatched the drink from his hand and downed as much as you could as quickly as the burning liquid allowed. You were already feeling the dizzy discomfort of losing so much blood from the inner side of your arm. “Before you start, I have to tell you all… I have to tell you… the ambassador was plotting to kill the king. And the cardinal was a part of it. That’s why he sent one of his spies to retrieve his letter. She’s the one who killed Laurent and the one who shot me. If you can find her, you may be able to expose the cardinal.” 

“We can worry about that later.” Aramis brushed a strand of hair off of your sweat-spotted forehead. “I’m taking care of you first. And I’m sorry, my love, but it is going to hurt.” His voice sounded as pained as you felt. The anguish in his eyes showed how much seeing you like this broke his heart. 

Finishing the rest of Porthos’s brandy, you gripped Aramis’s shoulder with your uninjured hand. 

“Do it.” 

Lacking the proper tools, Aramis took the sharpest knife he had and reluctantly plunged it into your gaping wound. The burn of the bullet was nothing compared to the blinding sting as he worked to remove the ball from your flesh. Athos gave you a piece of leather to bite down on, but even your muffled screams made Aramis sick to his stomach. 

“I know, mon amour. I’m sorry. It’ll be over soon, I promise. I’m so, so sorry.” He clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus. “I’ve almost… got it.” The gore-coated piece of metal fell into his palm. Blood poured out from your wound. Again, the sensory images of your failing body filled his mind. Your eyes struggled to stay open. He worked faster. “D’Artagnan, tighten the belt and hand me my needle.” 

“Is it supposed to bleed that much?” 

“Just do as I say!” 

You let the leather piece fall from your mouth and managed a weak smile. “This reminds me of when we were attacked by thieves on the way to Gascony,” you laughed, ignoring the growing haze in your head. 

“I think we have different accounts of that.” 

You smirked. “Only, I saved you that time.” 

Aramis shook his head, his lips teasing upward. He threaded his needle and held the point over a candle’s flame. 

“Like I said,” he examined the needle. “Different accounts.” 

The sharp point pierced your scarlet-stained skin. It didn’t hurt as much as removing the bullet. You squeezed your eyes shut, took shallow breaths, and tried to stay awake. 

“There.” Aramis sliced the thread and wrapped a fresh cloth around your arm. “It’s over. You’ve lost a lot of blood but, God willing, you’ll heal.” He adjusted the cushions beneath you and cupped your face in his hands. 

“Aramis,” you breathed weakly and placed your hand on his. Your voice was hardly above a whisper. 

“What is it, love?” 

You opened your eyes to his brown irises staring in panic. Your smirk grew. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

He breathed a sigh of relief and brought your lips to his. 

Porthos chuckled behind him and slapped him on the shoulder. “That is a tough woman you’ve got yourself.” 

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Athos warned, though he was smiling as well. “We have to make sure the wound doesn’t get infected.” 

“Your concern warms my heart, Athos,” you teased. You pushed yourself up on your good arm and tried to stand. But the blood loss, as well as the brandy, weakened your legs. You fell back against your husband. 

“What are you doing?” He fretted.  

“I must get to Treville. We have to find de Winter. She has the letter.” 

“You aren’t going anywhere.” Aramis wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your temple. “You need to rest.”

You squirmed in his hold, grimacing when you moved your injured arm. “Leisure is not one of my specialties.” 

“I’ll just have to help you practice.” His dark gaze glinted with his smug smile, brow raised. 

“Perhaps you will.” 

D’Artagnan coughed, reminding the two of you that three other men stood in the room. You might have blushed if you hadn’t lost so much blood. 

D’Artagnan winked. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re going to be fine.” 

-

Aramis made a sling for you from his deep blue sash and the five of you headed back to Paris. You rode with Aramis, his arms on either side of you and his eyes shifting at every movement. He tensed at each snapping twig, his arms holding you a little closer. 

“It’s just a bird,” you whispered. “Besides, you needn’t be so worried.” You turned your head over your shoulder so you could kiss his cheek. “Broken wing or not, I’m still a better shot.” 

But if there were any of the ambassador’s allies, you did not encounter them. Nor was there any sign of Milady. By the time you reached Treville, you were sure the cardinal’s letter was little more than ash and memory. 

The captain paced before you as Aramis changed the crimson bandages on your arm. 

“If I had known your contact was Baffier, I would have warned your spouse to expect you.” 

“That certainly would have made you simpler.” 

“Admit it,” you snickered, “it was fun.” 

“I can’t say that’s the word I would use for you almost bleeding to death,” he said. He wasn’t smiling, rather his face held the same concern it had at the farmhouse. 

“Nor I.” Treville gave you a hard stare. “The ambassador is dead and we don’t have any proof of what he was planning. This is going to be a mess to try and explain to the king.” 

“It was the cardinal’s spy that killed him, not I.”

“Unfortunately, we also don’t have any proof that she exists and if someone from the gathering comes forward and recognizes you or the others, it’ll be a hell of a time explaining what you were doing there.” He stopped his movements and turned his head to both of you. “Which is why I’m not assigning you to anything else until this all dies down.” 

You stood up, Aramis following behind you. 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means stay home,” Treville sighed. “You are injured. For God's sake, Y/N, you could have died if Aramis hadn’t been there!” 

“I’m afraid I have to agree with the captain.” Aramis stepped forward. “It’s far too much of a risk for you to be seen.”

Treville changed the subject of his exasperated glare from you to your husband. “And I’m sending you with her.”

Aramis’s face fell so quickly you would have laughed had you not been so frustrated. 

“Captain, I don’t… do you really think that’s… surely you’ll need-” He stammered. 

“You can keep an eye on each other until I can get this awful business figured out and her arm can heal.”

You both opened your mouths to argue, but he held up a hand. 

“That is my final decision.”

“What if you should need our services?” You asked. 

Aramis nodded frantically in agreement. “Yes! Surely Paris will find itself in danger some way or another and you’ll need our skills to stop another villain.” 

“If an emergency arises- and only of the utmost importance-'' Treville pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two will be the first to know. Now I have to try to begin to sort this out.” 

He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. 

You wanted to stay and fight, but between the ache in your arm and your husband’s guiding hand leading you to the door, there wasn’t anything you could do. 

“God knows how long it’ll take for this to quiet down,” you huffed once you were outside. 

“You two don’t look happy,” Porthos said. 

“Let me guess.” Athos crossed his arms. “House arrest?” 

You crossed your arms, grimacing from the jerking movement. 

“Careful, darling.” Aramis winced. 

You ignored him. “We aren’t allowed on any assignments until this whole ridiculous situation is handled.” 

“So, what, you have to go into hiding?” D’Artagnan wondered. “What are you supposed to do until then?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll think of something.” Porthos gave you a mischievous smirk, but his teasing did not lighten your mood. 

“He might as well have sent us to live in a cave.”

“Now, dear,” Aramis said, putting an arm around your shoulder “don’t you think you’re being a tad melodramatic?” Your face morphed with fury and your eyes burned into his. He gulped. “I love you?” 

You turned on your heel and stormed away. Aramis looked desperately at his three companions, but none offered any solace. In fact, they all grinned in amusement. 

“God help me,” he muttered, chasing after you as the trio started to laugh. 

-

Two Days and A Country Cottage Later

You swiped the damp cloth over your skin, bringing it further up your arm until fingers gently grabbed your wrist, stopping you from soaking your stitches. 

“Mind my needlework, darling.” Aramis purred into your ear. He took the cloth from your hand and began his own soothing motions over your arm. “Allow me.” 

You laid back against him, the bath water rippling with each movement. With your head leaned on his shoulder, he carefully cleaned the area around your wound. Any ache in your nerves was erased by his lips on your skin- from your shoulder to your neck to that little spot behind your ear. 

“You know,” you sighed contently, “maybe the captain was right to send us out here. I can’t remember the last time we’ve gotten to spend this much time together.” 

“I couldn’t agree more.” His lips followed your jaw as you turned to face him. 

“I just hope the city is still standing by the time we get back,” you giggled. “I’m surprised we haven’t already been summoned.” 

Aramis flicked at the water. “I give Treville and the others three more days before they come begging for our help.” A cocky smirk played on his features. 

“Well,” you stood, water cascading from your skin and glittering in the setting sun streaming through the window. 

Aramis basked in the sight of you. Almost glowing, you looked practically angelic. You stepped out of the bath and ran your fingers through your hair, beckoning him with a hooked finger and a suggestive glimmer in your eyes. 

“We better not waste them then.”

[mara-tevith-solo]

Sing a Little Song For Me

Part 13 of the drabble set already! sheesh!

Warnings: Mentions of past violence, mentions of past war and death, mentions of human Quaritch being a complete ass, doubt

Pairing: Eventual Colonel Miles Quaritch x Na’vi/Avatar f!reader/oc still not described

Words: 865

Rated 18+

Taglist:  @seashelldom @perseny @tinyfairies​ @kimqueenofhell​ @blueberry-thrawn​  @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed​

"Why do you stare at an arrow as though it offended you?" Mo'at asked as she settled next to me, groaning with her old bones.

"It did offend me." I sniffed, holding it up so that I could study the shaft for the eighteenth time that hour.

"How did it do this?" She asked, trying to contain a chuckle.

I frowned as I held it upright, showing it off like it was trash "It should have sank into the enemy, right between his eyes." I tapped the spot I had aimed at with my finger maybe a little harder than I meant to, but at least it was on myself "It flew true until the last second, where it veered enough to hit the log behind him, just off his ear." I mimed how close it had gotten before glaring at it some more.

She sighed in understanding, taking the arrow from me gently "We trust Eywa to guide our arrows, yes?" I nodded, mutely watching and listening, curious as to where she was going with the lesson "The Great Mother did not want you to kill that man. Does he still live?" I nodded again, trying not to be disrespectful with my scowling. "Eywa has a purpose for him. His fate is not for you to decide."

"It was him, Mo'at. The man that destroyed Hometree, the man that tried to destroy the Tree of Souls. Back from the dead like a demon. Why would Mother want to save him?" I was trying so hard to not be disrespectful, but I couldn't wrap my head around why Eywa would want the bastard to live.

She sighed again, sounding bone tired "I do not know the Will of Eywa, I can only guess. Whatever her reasons, they are hers. She saved both you and Jake once. Was she wrong to?" I tucked my head at her words, knowing that she had a point and hating it. She hummed softly at my non-answer, chuckling softly to herself "Trust in Eywa in all things, Ani. She will make herself known when she means to."

It was my turn to sigh as I nodded, hanging my head a bit in submission to her wisdom. "I can't pretend to understand it, or even agree with it, but if Eywa wills it, than I suppose I just have to live with it." I frowned, spinning the arrow in my palm by the nock.

"A wise decision." She hummed with a knowing smile before standing from her seat "I imagine, we will all be very surprised when Her motives are clear."

"I already am."

"Have a blessed night, Ahni Rillee. Tomorrow will be long." She chortled as she left me sitting there, still twirling the arrow, feeling conflicted and a little bit frustrated. The frustration grew moment by moment, until even my clothing felt stifling against my skin. In the heat of the moment I sprung to my feet and made my way across camp to Thor, needing to be mostly alone, needing space to breath, needing guidance. He understood immediately, diving off the ledge with gusto as we plummeted towards the forest below for an eternity of seconds before he snapped his wings open and leveled us out. He didn't ask or comment on my upheaval, only enjoyed the open air with me as the Tree of Souls came closer and closer. He only rumbled as he set down, looking around to make sure it was safe before letting me off.

I wasted little more time making tsaheylu with the vines, letting the songs of those past settle the turmoil in my mind "Great Mother, I pray for guidance, I pray for peace, I pray for clarity on the path before me. You saved an evil man from my arrow, and I know enough to not question you, but I cannot help the concern and fear it has created in my heart." I spoke quickly as I closed my eyes, afraid that my words would choke me before they all tasted the open air, before life was breathed into them. I licked my lips before trying to steady my beating heart, trying to let the songs sooth the uncertainty. My vision from all those years ago faded into my sight, the soft rolling waves on the beach meeting my ears, the salt of the sea soothing my nose. Those unspoken words like a promise to my soul 'I'm so thankful that we all survived.'.

A presence settled over me like my Mother's hugs, warm and comforting and safe no matter what. I could feel myself relax as I sighed in comfort "Do not despair my child, and trust. All will be well before the end." Mo'at's voice echoed through my skull, or at least it sounded like Mo'at, there was a sort of double tone to it, and the accent was much thicker, but it was no less comforting. Thor only wondered if I was soothed as we made the return trip, rumbling happily when I answered in the affirmative. Sleep still didn't come that night, but at least my soul was more at ease with what was to come.  

[colderdrafts]

I was thinking about what the relationship between Morgan and the reader would be like and an idea came to me, but before I write my request I want to explain how I imagine the relationship between Morgan and the reader if the first person the reader met was Morgan and not Dren and how their relationship would be with each other:

the reader is a bit Tsundere, not the annoying or offensive type, it Just the way they respond to him most of the time but they're physically affectionate, sometimes they randomly go and hug Morgan, and Morgan just tries to Woo them in general.

My request: Morgan and the reader haveing another routine day, at night when Morgan sleeps they’re place get attacked and the reader wakes them up, Morgan gets hurt and the reader stays up all night to treat them (their wounds are really painful and the reader knows it) and stays by their side, Morgan is surprised by their sudden interest and that it’s not really part of their role but the reader do it anyway

have a great day <:

You have a galaxy brain and I thank you for it. A 'Morgan got ya first' oneshot under the cut <3

Tw for violence

It’s always a fun time figuring out how to fall asleep after a long day of traveling. One’s mind tend to keep going even after the body has settled, replaying the events, smells, sights and feelings in a never-ending loop. Decompressing. Filtering and sorting input in neat little boxes.

Perhaps the soreness in your legs and feet can serve as a distraction.

Your ventures with Morgan has this time brought you to a large span of mountainous landscapes. You’re spending the night on an outcropping of a cliff, with a view the stretches far over the horizon. Morgan has taken the liberty of webbing up an opening in the cliff-side for both of you to rest inside.

The view from here is nothing short of breathtaking. Underneath the silent night sky and illuminated by the moon, vast forests stretch far towards the curve of the world, completed by a faint spark of blue that hints to a great ocean.

You’ve been on the road with Morgan for a while now, gotten more or less used to their odd antics and, at times, pushy habits.

Sentry, they call you, a name and a title. They whisper it fondly, barely audible but enough for it to send shivers down your spine. That word carries a promise. A vow you have no choice but to keep.

They’re asleep now, nestled inside the alcove in the rock on a soft bedding of web they spun. The gentle sound of their steady breaths and occasional chittering soothes you, and you hate it.

It’s clear they want to get close to you, and you don’t really have much choice in the matter. The horrible pain in your chest that plagues you every single time you think of running off makes keeping this distance that much harder. And Morgan is well aware you’ve been trying to figure out how to get out of this, yet they don’t do anything to stop you from trying to leave. They simply don’t have to. They know you’ll remain close, even as they sleep.

Morgan is patient and gentle with you, and you can never tell if it’s a front to ease your mind, or if it’s simply the assurance that you’re in for the long haul, like it or not. The second they had you close enough you were connected, without fully understanding what happened.

Which is why you've firmly held on to your stubbornness, and do what you can to keep them at bay.

It doesn’t work very well, seeing as you’re currently sitting on a small mat of web outside their sleeping space, hoping the cool night air will calm your mind. Morgan recognizes your movements, but will awaken if anything but you disturbs it – an efficient alert system for your sleepless nights, and need for space without a glaring red focus watching your every move.

Morgan fell asleep pretty quick, calmed by your presence. The air is getting colder, and winter is getting closer. With it comes Morgan’s yearly period of lethargy – onset of exhaustion before they’re out of commission for hibernation. At this time, they may as well be dead to the world. You’ll be their only saving grace, in case someone dangerous takes advantage of that vulnerability.

You’ve been traveling the mountains to find a suitable spot for them to rest. You stare out on the forest, dreading the weeks of solitude you’ll be forced to endure once they do.

After all, Morgan is your only company in this world. Nobody wants to approach you with them around. Not that they actively prevent it, but their presence and unsettling demeanor simply makes common-folk anxious. It hasn’t exactly been easy to make friends.

Not that you would have an option of visiting them anyway, now that you’re bound to Morgan’s side.

You look at their sleeping face, crude mandibles twitching at times, breathing slowly. Like this, their face looks almost peaceful, inviting. When you move a little, trying to gain some space, a faint purr escapes them, and they reach a hand out to where you’re sitting. As if your stirring was because of a bad dream, and not your current stressful thoughts. As if trying to calm you, even in their sleep.

And much to your chagrin, it works. It always does. Whatever they did to you when you first met makes sure that their proximity and soothing behavior always, always makes your body relax. You have to restrain yourself from reaching back for their outstretched hand.

Sometimes you do so without thinking – brushing your fingers over their arm, chest, neck or hair before you can stop yourself. Morgan always leans back into you, reciprocating and looking for more. When you pull back, they follow. You constant shadow, you haven’t had a day on your own since you met them.

Even if it wouldn’t tear your heart apart to leave, you can’t. You’d be dead already, if they hadn’t stepped in to defend you at every turn. This world is extremely dangerous to creatures such as yourself. And creatures such as Morgan, for that matter.

As if called by your thought, you hear a faint snap of a branch somewhere in the woods next to you, and immediately you’re on high alert.

You rise to your feet, silently, and stare out toward the source of the sound.

It’s dark, and you’re at a disadvantage. It could just be deer. But it could also be something dangerous, and you've learned the necessity in making sure.

You take a cautious step forward to get a better view. Another snap catches your attention, and you look to your right.

Some leaves are rustling, and you surmise it must be deer, or some other harmless thing. Something that wanted to take you by surprise would never make so much noise.

At ease, you turn to go back – yet there’s a blur of movement, and suddenly something sharp sends a ping of pain through your neck.

“Gah-!” you gasp, and quickly reach up and pull out a small dart.

Seems the 'deer' was a distraction.

The dart is coated in a clear liquid that has a strong, bitter scent you recognize, and it would appear you’re in luck. If that had nicked an artery, you’d be completely immobilized already. But when a very strong dizziness follows still, you know you’ll have to act swiftly.

You stumble backwards, a tingling numbness haunting your limbs. You catch a glimpse of three figures stepping out of the woods, silently rushing towards you, and you turn and start sprinting towards your custodian.

You almost collapse upon their sleeping form, shaking their shoulder.

“M-Morgan,” you urge, already feeling faint. “We’re in danger, wake up!”

Their eyes snap open at your call, and suddenly your world is turned around.

In a split second, they snatch you off the ground, on their feet, clutching you tightly to their chest and front legs raised high in a threat posture. A second passes where they’re still, quiet and contemplating, and you know they’re sensing for movement triggering their webs.

They nudge their face against the back of your neck, a warning clatter escaping them. You feel their comforting heat radiating off them, encompassing you, searching for injuries. They breathe in and hiss, and you wonder if they can sense the venom in your neck.

And that’s when a sudden whoosh sounds, followed by a thud. Morgan’s hold on you loosens as they squeal in pain.

You fall to the ground as Morgan let's go to step over you, multiple legs blocking you from whatever just attacked them. They skitter around, hissing and snarling. A fine spear hits the ground, coated in fresh blood.

You see them now, blocking any path away from the mountain and rapidly approaching. Three hunters, cloaked and carrying spears, barking orders of attack at each other.

“Circle around it!”

“Pin its legs!”

“Don’t get within range! It’s guarding the sentry!”

Another sound like a whip crack rings through the air, and Morgan hisses again. You look up to see a crude hook firmly locked into one of their legs and pulling from a rope, tearing the tough carapace and getting stuck in the joint. The hunters are attempting to restrict their freedom of movement.

Morgan ignores the pain and roughly pulls, an awful tearing sound accompanying the movement. They stubbornly tear themself free, before another hunter can throw another hook.

“What the-” is the only thing that escapes the hunter before Morgan is rapidly upon him, legs lifting him into the air like he weighs nothing but a dime.

The others scatter, realizing their plan foiled, and prepare other weapons.

Morgan hisses as they slam the hunter up against the rocky mountainside, head-first. There’s an uncanny crunching sound, as the inside of his skull gets closely acquainted with the rocky surface.

Yells of warning and another woosh as a spear soars through the air, and lands in Morgan’s shoulder.

They discard the mangled corpse, turn, and storm toward the hunter who threw it, movement almost a blur. Their legs stabs at where they’re standing, the hunter swiftly dodging their attacks in a deadly dance. The spear in Morgan’s should dislodges at the rapid movement.

Meanwhile you're struggling to open your satchel, searching for a specific concoction Morgan shoved you how to make. It’s difficult to pick out the correct antidote, scrambling around with your partially paralyzed body, fingers not responding to your brain’s commands of movement. You manage to find the correct one and quickly chug it, ignoring the gross bitterness. Now you have to wait for it to work.

While distracted, the third hunter is suddenly upon you, and you have to clumsily spin out of the way to avoid a spear just as it was jabbing at your chest. The move sent another wave of dizziness over you, you wobbly legs almost giving out from under you.

You grit your teeth and throw your satchel at the hunter to gain some breathing room.

She parries, knocking the satchel aside before it can connect. As you turn toward the alcove for cover she steps forward, and uses the advantage the range of a spear gives her to whack you over the side of the head. A white hot pain shoots through your skull, and combined with the venom you land heavily on the floor.

You feel something sharp prickling against your back. You glance over your shoulder to see the third hunter having a spear pointed pointed firmly at you, but staring at Morgan struggling against the second hunter.

Morgan swipes their feet, and when the hunter lands on the ground they immediately take advantage of the exposed position, slamming their sharp claws into their chest. The hunter screeches in pain as they tear through cleanly.

Morgan picks the impaled hunter off the ground, and hurls them over the side of the cliff with a disgusted growl. In you stupor, you can only hear the faint gurgling scream before it’s replaced by a wet thud.

Morgan turn their gleaming red eyes toward you, chittering and heaving for breath. Blood and a viscous clear liquid is pouring from open wounds in their shoulder, abdomen and legs.

Then their eyes settle on the one threatening you. Their face contorts in rage, mandibles flaring and teeth bared as they advance on her with rapid steps.

“No sudden moves,” the last hunter bellows. “Or I kill them!”

The spear presses into you slightly, and you whine as it pierces the skin.

Morgan halts, hissing, and rights themselves, eyes darting between you and the hunter.

You know that look. They’re analyzing, planning, searching for advantages.

The hunter shifts uncomfortably under their scrutinizing, their grip on the spear tightening. You can feel her hands shaking through the sharp tip as she clutches it. She’s afraid.

Morgan stares at her, unblinking, righting themselves so their gangly limbs slightly creak as they move.

“Will you?” they chitter mockingly, voice an odd mixture of speech and hissing. As if the lower and upper body are speaking all at once. “And what then?”

The hunter hesitates. “Then you’ll die.”

Morgan smiles then, a fanged grin with eyes full of viciousness. “No,” they snicker. “Then -”

They take a quick step towards her, testing, taunting, clicking claws echoing off the mountain walls. The spear doesn’t seep deeper into you. The hunter is wholly focused on them.

“I will paralyze you, and slowly tear you apart. I’ll take my time and devour you piece. By. Piece.”

The hunter grits her teeth, considering her options, keeping her grip on you like a lifeline.

“Then-” Morgan continues, still smiling, “you will feel every single agonizing moment of your muscle and bone being pulled apart. You won’t die before I let you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You gasp as the spear threatening you moves slightly as the hunter puts pressure on it in retaliation, regaining some composure. Morgan hisses at the sound, legs clawing at the ground.

“You won’t reach me before they’re dead,” the hunter counters, voice a little lower.

“Is that so? Would you like to bet?” Morgan asks nonchalantly, crouching down as if readying to pounce. Then their eye settle on you, gleaming with wicked amusement.

It seems they have a plan.

With a grunt of effort, you suddenly twist to the side, wincing as the spear cuts over your skin. The hunter startles at your sudden movement, and missteps to regain her balance. The second she does, any pressure on your body leaves abruptly. It is replaced by a large shadow looming over you.

Morgan is above you in a split second, and so is the hunter, trapped in their grip. The spear falls to the ground with a clatter.

“I win,” Morgan sneers.

The hunter flails in a panic, to which Morgan chuckles. From your angle you can just barely make out the hunter.

And catch a glimpse of shining steel from a knife they’ve just pulled out from under their cloak.

“Morgan, look out-!”

There’s another wet tearing sound, followed by Morgan squealing in pain as the hunter buries the weapon somewhere in their front.

Morgan jumps forward and away from you, and with the motion whacks the hunter onto the dirt. They wrap the claws of their front legs around her neck and start pulling as she screams. There’s a squelch, and the hunter starts gurgling horribly, uselessly heaving for breath through a torn throat.

Morgan stares down at the hunter for the few moments it takes before she goes quiet.

The silence that follows is heavy. Morgan wobbles, and slumps down, breathing hard as the adrenaline settles.

The antidote having somewhat dispelled your paralysis, you rise to your feet, and rush to their side to assess the damage.

Morgan turns toward you, and lean down to meet you halfway, grasping your shoulders and staring you in the face. Their hands ghost over your neck and jaw as they chitter quietly, making sure you’re still there. A knife is sticking out from beneath their collar bone, oozing blood.

Along their other injuries, they’re not looking too good.

You put your hands out towards them, unsure where to put them. What will help, and what will cause further damage? You settle for clutching their wrists.

“Fuck,” you breathe, staring at them. “Holy shit. Fuck!”

Morgen takes a deep breath at your voice, calming themself.

“Not the best time right now, unfortunately," Morgan teases and coughs, wincing as the movement disturbs the weapon buried inside them.

You groan at them in frustration. “Now’s not the time for jokes, idiot! Come on, we gotta get those sealed up. Can you walk?”

“Yes,” Morgan replies through gritted teeth, and stands back up, avoiding putting weight on their mangled leg.

They glance down at it, assessing it for a second, frowning like it’s an outlier that should not be counted. Then they rise up just a moment, placing two healthy legs on either side of the limb, claws grasping it tightly.

Oh. Oh no-

You grab at one of their free legs to stop them. “Woah, woah – Morgan, don’t you fucking dare-!”

There’s a disgusting crackling noise from tough chitin bending and giving way. Morgan pulls at their leg, cleanly severing it from their body with a bellow of strained effort, hissing and snarling in pain. They throw it aside like it has been a thorn in their side for a decade.

The appendage flops to the ground, discarded like yesterday’s newspaper, and a clear liquid starts pouring from the place where it used to be attached.

“Why?!” you bark at them, tearing off your shirt to wrap around the stump left behind and staunching the bleeding.

“Slowing me,” they hiss.

“Inside. Now,” you demand, grabbing their arm to lead them in the right direction, since you can’t do much in terms of supporting their weight.

Morgan’s fingers curl around your wrist affectionately as they let you. Their hands are shaking.

Once inside, and Morgan has been somewhat stabilized, you get to work mixing up herbs and grinding powder into a cleansing balm.

Just like they taught you. In case you are ever in need of it, and I’m not around.

“You’re getting very good at that,” Morgan praises, watching you work. Their speech comes a little slurry.

How they can keep a level head after all of that is beyond you, but maybe that’s the blood loss talking. Can you lose adrenaline from blood loss?

You ignore them, focusing on getting bandages ready. “Focus on keeping pressure on those wounds.”

“Yes, dear,” they purr. Then they hiss.

“What?” you ask hurriedly, turning toward them.

“Just some pain. I’ll live,” they smile, a little strained. “Hmm, never though I’d see you worry about me like that.”

“Shut it,” you huff, turning back to the task at hand. “I need to focus.”

“Oh, am I distracting you?”

“Shut. It. And keep the pressure.”

They hum, and you try to ignore the sensation of Morgan unabashedly staring at you as you work.

After treating the wound where their leg used to be, and the cut in their shoulder, you turn your attention the other obvious safety hazard sticking out of their chest, unsure how to approach it. The dagger is buried deep under the collar bone, but since Morgan is still breathing luckily it didn’t puncture anything. But you’ll have to be very careful removing it.

You turn to find something to seal wound with, though you hear Morgan grunt, and a wet slop follows. You spin on your heel and watch as Morgan deftly pulls out the knife from under their collar bone, and it goes from trickling to pouring blood.

“What the – NO!” you yell at them, hurrying over to put pressure on it with a piece of cloth. “Are you insane?!”

“It needed to get out sooner or later,” Morgan slurs, throwing the weapon aside.

“Not until I was ready to staunch it!” you protest, doing your best to keep your hands on the wound. You glare up into their exhausted red eyes calmly watching you scramble. “Keep pressure on this too, you moron.”

They comply, folding their hands over yours and chuckling. Seems they’re still coherent enough, as they have the audacity to find your fluster amusing. “I will. Go do your thing, sentry.”

You pull your hands out from under theirs, and get to work making a makeshift plug of bandages to seal the wound a little better, rushing back and forth to get everything in place and ready to staunch the bleeding.

If this keeps up, you have a long night ahead of you.

After two hours of managing blood loss, carefully sealing deeper wounds, re-wrapping up their legs, abdomen, shoulder and chest, you’re finally finished.

The procedure took at lot out of Morgan’s energy reserves, however. You’ll save the scolding of furthering their own injuries for when they’re coherent enough to hear them.

They look even paler than usual, their breathing coming ragged and fast. You’re worried a fever may set in, and you’ve done your best preparing herbs like they’ve shoved you to combat it.

They’re sluggish, yet still acting skittish and jumpy, which is an alarming change from their usual brash and confident attitude. They talk less – staring out over the edge of your hide, legs constantly in tune with the tripwire they’ve spun. Their lower body has seemingly taken hold of the situation, leaving their usual social etiquette on the back-burner in favor of active survival instincts. Perhaps a response to the current danger of lethargy and weakness.

“Morgan. Settle down and sleep. You need to rest,” you inform them.

They shake their head, staring out beyond the edge of your hide and into the dark. They’re shivering yet coated in sweat.

You slowly reach up and put your hands on either side of their face to regain their attention. It works immediately as their eyes dart to you with intense focus. You can feel their warmth underneath your palms, caressing the inside of your wrists.

“I’ll keep watch. You sleep,” you say gently.

And it seems that was the magic words. Morgan smiles at you, not the usual knowing or teasing smirk you’ve grown used to, but a genuine expression of contentment. The complete earnest look leaves you slightly flabbergasted.

You can feel the connection of the little strings between you pulling slightly, and you know you’ve just made them a promise.

“Okay,” they hum.

They finally settle down, carefully folding their legs in a comfortable position, and laying down.

Resigned to your fate, you settle down next to them, leaning on the front of their abdomen. A pedipalp curls around your stomach.

The second you’re there, they’re out like a light. You keep your word, and watch the surroundings as Morgan finally rests.

It’s one of the roughest nights of your life.

Morgan’s state worsens as the hours pass, shifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, bleeding through several bandages. When they’re awake, you have to almost physically restrain them from standing up back on guard. When they’re asleep, you have to keep an eye out on everything lurking in the forest that could be attracted by the smell of blood and weakness. Simultaneously, you keep your hand on their neck, intently feeling for their continued pulse and listening to their breathing. You fear the second their rhythm halts, and realize you’re afraid of losing them.

When they’re delirious and gasping from the pain, you try your best to soothe them, running your hands over their hair, neck, arms and legs. The tingling warmth beneath their skin reaches for you, more so than ever. For the first time, you feel yourself reaching back. You don’t know what it is you’re doing, but whatever it is, it works. You can feel a disturbance, faint sparks of static and knots in the usual gentle energy rolling off them. You smooth them out as you run your hands over them. Tension leaves their limbs, and they settle against you, more at ease. Perhaps you’re simply helping them carry the pain.

But they need another distraction from their lower body telling them to be prepared to fight.

So you talk to them. You tell them silly little stories of your home life, describe the way an old friend used to eat their favorite meal oddly, anything that comes to mind. Morgan responds with nothing more than small acknowledging grunts and hums, and eventually they’re asleep again. And you go back to keeping a hand on their pulse, stroking their hair, and keeping a lookout for any other disturbances.

“I never thought I’d see the day where you wanted to take care of me,” Morgan purrs, staring at you. “I could get used to this.”

You resist the urge to smack them, seeing as they’re already in a world of pain. You huff as you pick off some webbing from a bandage on their leg. It stubbornly sticks to your fingers.

It’s two days after the attack, and their teasing habits have returned with force. They’re still severely hurt, but some rest and intense care-taking has done wonders for them. Unfortunately.

“Do not make me do all of this ever again,” you scold them. “This whole thing was almost too much. You could have died.”

They brush a hand against you cheek. “My my, sentry, you don’t want me to get hurt?”

“Of course not,” you grunt. “If you die, I’m as good as dead. And vice versa. Remember?”

“Hmm, quite so. I love how you’ve finally taken to that,” Morgan says.

When you ignore them in favor of fidgeting with the bandage, they press their forehead against the top of your skull. You halt your movements.

“But are you sure it’s just the agreement?” they whisper gently.

You breathe out as their calming proximity washes over you again, soothing your limbs. “What do you mean?”

You can hear the smile in their voice. “Are you sure it’s not because you secretly care about me? Just a little bit?”

You shake off the spell, and tie the final knot on the bandage tightly. “No.”

Morgan laughs, but then winces again. You instinctively put your hands out to steady them. The knowing look they send you is nothing short of infuriating, so you turn to put the excess medical tools away.

They reach out then, wrapping their legs around your waist, and gently pulling you back to them.

Usually you’d pull away or scoff or tell them to knock it off. Usually you’d be reluctantly admitting how nice it feels to be in their arms to yourself, and distance from it as best as you can.

But right now they seem a little weak for the first time. Right now they’re severely hurt by fighting for both your lives. You came out of it more or less unscathed again, because Morgan brutally made sure you would.

The least you could do is try to revel a little in that connection that seemingly brings them a world of calm.

So when your back reaches their chest you just lean back into them with a sigh, half contended, half resigned. Morgan shifts their legs to rest on either side of you, and wraps their arms around you, resting their head on your shoulder. Their warmth follows quickly after, a soothing and soft blanket rolling off them in gentle waves. Even now, they’re trying to calm you down.

“You know, this isn’t part of the agreement,” Morgan says softly, leaning heavily on you.

“What isn’t?”

“Tending to my wounds. The deal is I defend us, at any cost, and you keep watch when I can't. You could have let me bleed out and perish.”

You pause. “Would I be free then?”

“Free,” Morgan repeats with a thoughtful hum. They gently pres their face against your neck as they speak. “Is that how you think of this? That you’re a captive?”

“You didn’t give me much choice in the matter," you mutter. "And now I can’t leave.”

“And yet you still fought hard for my survival. You stayed by my side through it all to keep me alive.”

“I did.”

“So are you a captive, or a very efficient sentry?” they praise, running a hand over your hair.

The affectionate motion makes you shiver.

“You know this isn’t good, Morgan. For either of us,” you rasp.

“If it’s so bad, why didn’t you just let me die?” they counter. “You must care at a certain level, even if you don’t want to admit it. But that’s okay, I understand. You don’t have to say anything.”

Good. You’re not inclined to.

Morgan hums at your silence, and squeezes you gently. “You must be exhausted, and it’s my turn to take care of you now. You’ve earned some rest after all this. Get some sleep.”

You stare out over the far horizon, ignoring the pools of crimson and traces of mangled innards still coating the surface of the cliff. Morgan holds you close, as they always do, and you fall asleep in their arms with a taste of blood in your mouth.

[pretty-little-candid-blurbs]

Moonlit Comfort

Summary: When the weight of a bad day becomes too much for the reader, Remus Lupin is there to provide comfort and solace under the moonlit sky.

Word Count: Approx. 2,200

Warning: Fluff and some emotional distress

The dark clouds hung heavy in the sky as you trudged back to the Gryffindor common room, your spirits dampened by the rain that mirrored your gloomy mood. It had been a terrible day – a disastrous Potions class, a misunderstanding with your friends, and a stack of assignments that seemed insurmountable. You longed for the comfort of your own bed, away from the prying eyes of the world.

Upon entering the common room, you spotted a familiar face sitting by the fireplace. Remus Lupin was engrossed in a thick book, his brow furrowed in concentration. Despite your desire for solitude, something about his presence drew you in.

As you walked past him, trying to be inconspicuous, he looked up and caught your eye. Remus was always perceptive, and he could tell immediately that something was wrong.

"Hey," he called out softly, his voice gentle and comforting. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitated for a moment before sighing and sinking into the chair across from him. "Not really, Remus. It's been a dreadful day."

A concerned expression crossed Remus's face as he closed the book and moved closer to you. "Do you want to talk about it?"

And so, you poured out your frustrations and disappointments, unloading the burden that had been weighing on your shoulders all day. Remus listened attentively, nodding at the right moments and offering words of sympathy.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that," he said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You know, sometimes, the worst days bring out the best in us. You'll get through this, I promise."

His words were like a soothing balm to your weary soul, and you felt a glimmer of hope returning. "Thank you, Remus. It means a lot to have someone to talk to."

"Anytime," he replied with a warm smile. "And remember, I'm here for you, no matter what."

As the evening wore on, the common room began to fill with other students, and the atmosphere became lively. However, you found comfort in the presence of Remus, and you were grateful for the respite he provided from your difficult day.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" Remus suggested, his eyes twinkling. "The full moon is shining tonight. It might do us some good to get some fresh air."

You hesitated for a moment, but the idea of strolling under the moonlit sky with Remus sounded like a much-needed distraction. "Sure, that sounds nice."

The two of you stepped out into the cool night air, the clouds having cleared to reveal the full moon shining brightly above. Remus led the way, and you walked side by side, your shoulders brushing occasionally.

As you walked, Remus shared stories about the moon and its mysteries, weaving tales of magic and wonder that captured your imagination. His soft-spoken words seemed to have a calming effect on you, and you felt your worries slowly fading away.

"It's amazing how the moon can have such an effect on people," Remus mused. "The same moon that brightens our darkest nights also holds secrets and untold wonders."

You nodded in agreement, appreciating the simple beauty of the night. The two of you continued walking in comfortable silence, the moonlight guiding your path.

As you approached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, you noticed a patch of moonflowers blooming amidst the underbrush. Their ethereal glow bathed the area in a soft light, adding to the enchantment of the moment.

"Look at that," Remus whispered, pointing to the moonflowers. "They only bloom under the light of the full moon."

"It's beautiful," you replied, feeling a sense of awe at the sight. "Thank you for bringing me here, Remus."

Remus smiled warmly. "I thought you might appreciate it. Sometimes, nature has a way of reminding us that there is beauty even in the darkest times."

The moment felt magical, and you found yourself drawn to Remus. As if sensing your emotions, he turned to face you, his amber eyes searching yours.

"You're a remarkable person, you know," he said softly. "Even on your worst days, you manage to find strength and resilience. It's inspiring."

You blushed, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. "Thank you, Remus. You're pretty remarkable yourself."

Remus chuckled, the sound melodic and soothing. "I'm glad I could be here for you. We all have bad days, but it's important to remember that we're not alone."

In that moment, the connection between you and Remus felt stronger than ever. The moonlit night seemed to amplify your feelings, and you found yourself leaning in, unable to resist the pull.

His lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss, and it felt like a promise of comfort and understanding. Remus's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you felt a sense of safety and warmth enveloping you.

As you broke apart, you smiled at each other, the moonlight dancing in your eyes. There were no grand declarations, no elaborate confessions - just the unspoken knowledge that you were there for each other, no matter what.

Hand in hand, you walked back to the castle, hearts full of newfound comfort and hope. The bad day had not vanished, but in the presence of Remus and the magic of the moonlit night, it felt manageable.

And so, under the moon's gentle gaze, your bond with Remus Lupin deepened, and you knew that in each other's company, you could weather any storm that life threw your way.

[thebrokenroads]

The Archer and the Prey

Arthur knew immediately that something was wrong. 

Her touches were fleeting, soft brushes of her palm against his arm or chest. She hardly looked at him, either. Usually, they shared secret glances during their meetings and court events. She went to bed early, and she was asleep by the time he retired for the night. She let him hold her, but did not hold him back. 

When he fell asleep that night, his chest felt tight. The feeling usually went away when he saw the raven hair splayed across the pristine white sheets, but that was no longer the case. Still, exhausted from the day, he fell into a troubled sleep. 

His dreams were disjointed, twisted things like age old tree roots crawling over a trail in the forest. He saw flashes. Mordred coughing up blood, holding his own throat while the thick red substance trickled between his stumpy fingers. You failed me, he said. Morgan’s face, a face that once brought him such joy, morphed into a furious, angry expression before she struck a young Mordred across the face. Merlin’s disappointed, cold stare. Genny in a battlefield. Unarmed, wearing the pristine white dress she wore the night they wed. His legs won’t move, he can’t get to her. She screamed for him. Arthur. Arthur. 

“Arthur!” 

He sat up with a gasp, drenched in sweat. Genny hovered over him with a frightened look. “It’s all right,” she said, her tone comforting as if she was speaking to an upset child. He gently moved her aside so he could sit over the side of the bed, his legs over the edge. He caught his breath, his palm resting over his chest as he did so. 

The sheets rustled. He prepared and willed himself not to wince before she wrapped herself around him, arms wrapping around his neck from behind. She pressed a long kiss to the top of his damp hair, her breath hitching. “Arthur,” she said, and he heard the tears in her voice. 

“I’m okay,” he said, but even to his own ears, it sounded unconvincing and weak. He cleared his throat. “I’m fine,” he took one of her hands. He still couldn’t face her, not yet.

“Look at me, please,” she said. She spoke softly, cupping his jaw in effort to turn his head.

“No,” he said roughly, and it was perhaps the first time he said that word to her. His wife’s hand froze on his face. 

“Arthur,” she tried again, and she attempted to get into his lap so he would have to look at her. 

He stood instantly. “I’m going to take a walk,” he said, his voice a strangled noise he hardly recognized. 

“I’ll go with you,” she said, and Arthur imagined the way she scrambled to her feet.

The thought of her overwhelming presence as he tried to calm his racing heartbeat. 

“Stay here,” he barked, already halfway to the door. He slammed it so hard behind him that the wood paneling shook.  

It took ages to get outside. He purposefully asked that the Queen’s corridors be prepared towards the top of the castle, back then because it was the furthest he could place her when the prospect of marriage frightened him. Now, he simply felt grateful that it would take the intruders the longest to find her. 

Once he was outside, he gasped for air. He hunched over on his knees for a moment, attempting to fill his lungs with the fresh air. 

It was clean, not filled with the slightly lavender, floral scent of his wife. His wife. He loved her, god he loved her. He couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her. 

“Your majesty?”

Arthur stood up rigidly. “Who goes there?” 

Henry, the stable boy, stepped into the dim light of the courtyard that was lit by a few torches. 

He softened, his trembling hand wiping away his tears quickly. “Henry. What are you doing?”

The little boy looked at him skeptically. “My job, sir.”

Arthur then noticed the sun barely rising in the sky. 

“It’s not even— they have you rising this early?”

“I help the kitchen, sir. I collect the eggs,” he held up the empty basket in his hands. 

Arthur knew that. The kitchen maid had asked permission to uptake the little boy’s salary. “Right,” he said, and he cleared his throat. He could breathe again. “The knights rise too early, I suppose.”

Henry’s skeptic gaze continued. “Are you all right, sir?”

“I’m fine,” he lied.

Henry stiffened and bowed rather quickly, and Arthur turned to see his Queen rushing down the steps. She wore her trousers and one of his shirts, cloak hung around her arm. 

“Genny,” he said, and he swallowed his anger at the prospect of her leaving before dawn without telling a soul. She was going after him, he reminded himself. 

She halted quickly, and her face dropped in relief. “I thought you’d left,” she said, her hands moving to his chest. His hands moved naturally to her waist, forgetting they were in the presence of a child. “Never run out on me like that again,” she scolded before she noticed Henry. 

“Hello,” she said, and the royal couple dropped their hands. 

Henry smiled, a nervous smile that was reserved for a young boy with a desperate crush on a pretty woman, and he started back on his way. Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle, but Henry stopped on his path. He faced his King and Queen. “I get them, too,” he said solemnly, looking at Arthur. 

Arthur felt like someone had just thrown him into a cold bath. He swallowed. “Best be on your way,” he said, taking Genny’s hand in his, already pulling her back towards the doors to the castle. 

“What did that mean?” She demanded as soon as they were inside. 

He dropped her hand. “I don’t know.”

“Hey,” she stopped in her tracks at the bottom of the stairs. Arthur looked to her warily. She took both of his hands. “You’ve never spoken to me like that before.”

He softened. “I apologize, I didn’t mean—”

“Do not do that. Do not push me away,” she said again urgently. “If I did that to you, you’d never forgive me.”

He dropped one of her hands, using the other to pull her up the stairs. “It’s different. I’m supposed to take care of you.”

“We’re supposed to take care of each other,” she pulled her hand from his grip. “Please tell me you understand that by now.”

Frustration built in his chest. “You’ve barely looked at me for weeks, Genny. I don’t know the last time we’ve spoken alone— “

“There’s been no time. You come upstairs late, and you are gone by the time I wake. And need I remind you, the time you did sleep in, you were quite happy with the way I woke you—”

“Guenevere,” he hissed, grabbing her wrist to pull her along again. 

She scoffed. “Please grow up, Arthur, no one around us thinks that we’re celibate,” she grumbled but she followed up on their trek up the stairs. 

“I hope that no one thinks about our lives in that regard. Why would they?”

“We are a married couple.”

“That means nothing in an arrangement.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and the severity in her voice caused him to pause and look at her. She looked close to tears. “I didn’t mean to make you feel alone. The last thing I want you to feel is alone in this. I’m just… frightened.”

His heart ached. This thing in him frightened her. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“No, Arthur, it’s not that,” she quickly corrected him. “It’s not you. It’s Mordred, it is… I hate how this threat is hanging over our heads.”

His chest tightened again. “He will not harm you, I promise.”

“He has already harmed you,” Genny said. “That is what I’m concerned about.”

Arthur couldn’t lie to her. He knew that. “When we first met, when he was ten. He… he came to me, and he had been beaten. He told me that his mother hit him,” he said, his heart heavy in his chest as he spoke about his and Mordred’s first meeting. “I don’t know if that’s true, if it was Morgan, or if it was— “

“It wasn’t.”

He sighed. “How do you know that?”

“What parent would harm their children?”

“My father did,” he said. He never spoke about Uther Pendragon. 

Genny stared at him, and the familiar pool of pity flooded her eyes. He patted her hand.

“It’s all right. I was a boy, then. It has been…I can’t even recall the last time I saw him.”

“That’s why you feel so guilty about Mordred,” she realized. “You didn’t save your son from what you endured.”

Arthur couldn’t have put it into words so perfectly. That’s exactly what Genny did for him since the beginning of their relationship. The creation of the round table, the next steps that seemed so hopelessly lost after Merlyn’s sudden death. Everything he accomplished in this brief period of peace, it was all because of her. He loved her, he loved her. He couldn’t lose her. He loved her. 

He cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said. “He’s an imbecile. I know that. I just can’t help but wonder if he would have turned out differently if I—” 

“If you what, Arthur?” Genny stepped forward so she was closer to him, her hands came to rest on his chest. “You didn’t know. You tried to take care of him when you knew. It’s not your fault that Morgan never attempted to contact you, or anything else. You did the best you could. You have nothing to feel guilty about.” 

Arthur stared at her pleading eyes. She wanted him to be okay. He wanted to be okay. He wanted to believe her, but there was just something there that hounded him. He should have checked on Morgan. He should have written to her much earlier. He should have, should have, should have. 

His hands on Genny’s hips gently pushed her away. “I need to dress for the day. I have a meeting with Dinadan.” 

He climbed the remainder of the stairs and pretended he didn’t feel her burning gaze.

[unexpectedly-haunted]

Hey there demons! It’s me, another demon!

Double Life SMP fic, written after Session 3 about the Broken Hearts Club. Almost 2000 words, no warnings!

Plumes of smoke rise above the treeline, the darkness stark against the blue sky. It’s getting hard to breathe but the two figures around the burning logs keep moving, keep the chant going. 

“Burn the log! Pet the dog! Croak the frog!”

Neither are sure how long they’ve been chanting for, but they’re more than committed now. They’re going to complete this spell or burn through all the trees at spawn trying. Or pass out from the smoke inhalation, whatever comes first.

“Burn the dog! Pet the frog! Croak the log- wait a minute!”

“Yeah, I think we’ve been mixing the words up, it’s fine! Keep going!”

“Pet the log! Croak the dog! Burn the frog!”

“Close enough!”

Despite their enthusiasm, the summoning remains unsuccessful and then the forest almost burns down, effectively ending the chant. Ren sits down, despondent amidst the ash, while Martyn goes to get more logs for the next attempt. He’s just making his way back to the circle when he hears someone approaching on horseback.

“Quick! I think she’s coming, start it again!” He rushes back into the clearing, throwing the new logs down. Ren jumps up, lighting them with a strike of his flint and steel, and again they circle the flames.

“Burn the log! Pet the dog! Croak the frog!”

The sound of hooves gets louder, and as Pearl gets closer, their chant picks up in volume. The words come easier, and something about their voices change. They hear each others' voice distort slightly, sense something rising beneath the surface, unaware it’s happening to themselves as well. 

Pearl’s horse bursts through the clearing, Tilly close behind. 

“No, no, no, no!” She cries, extinguishing the fires. “What’re you saying about my dog?! What’s going on?”

“We were petting the dog, we were croaking the frog, and we were burning the log to summon you!”

“We were summoning you, demoness, to this altar!” Ren proclaims, jumping up onto one of the logs to look her in the eyes.

“You yellow guys want to summon me? That’s not how this works.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the problem?”

“Hey now,” Martyn says, arms spread placatingly. “Pearl, consider- what’s the thing we all have in common?”

“I have no friends.” Comes the immediate response.

“Exactly!” 

“Neither do we!” 

“Hold on, no,” Pearl argues, “Ren’s got friends, he doesn’t count!”

“Nah, he’s been sworn off!” Martyn says, “BigB’s ditched him!”

Ren takes a moment to look mournfully off into the middle distance, as he is wont to do.

“Oh, is the dog lonely? Such a pity.” She croons, guiding her horse right up to him. “All that after you blamed your death on me.”

He kneels down on the log, bowing his head to her.

“We come to you with a proposition. And an apology.”

________________________

Later, the three new members of the Broken Hearts Club sit under the stars. The crackling of the campfire they’re gathered around accompanies Pearl’s humming, and they enjoy its warmth as sparks drift up into the night sky.

“Man, what is BigB even doing?” Ren says, wincing. He reaches out to take a piece of steak cooking over the fire. “My head’s been aching on and off day, and I know we broke up, but I didn’t think he’d try and hurt me like this!”

“Yeah, imagine deliberately hurting your soulmate, who’d be crazy enough to do that?” 

“Shut up Martyn,” Pearl sighs, “You literally pushed Cleo off a cliff this morning.”

“It was a joke!”

“It was hilarious,” She agrees, “But that is kinda weird. I mean, snow buckets, cacti, drowning, fall damage, those are all pretty standard revenge plots, but those don’t give you head injuries.”

“Maybe he’s getting really creative,” Ren suggests, “or it’s just accidental damage? Like he’s been fighting skeletons who are laser-focused on headshots?” 

He swallows a bite of steak with a grimace. 

“Though you’d think healing would help either way, but let me tell you my dudes, this food is doing nothing.”

“Hang on, let me take a look,” Martyn says, leaning forward. “I can check to see if there’s any visible injury?”

“Oh, sure!”

He shuffles over and Ren obligingly lowers his head.

“Let me know if it hurts, okay?”

Martyn tucks some of Ren’s hair out the way, keeping his touch featherlight. He checks around the top and back of his head, finding no bruises, bleeding, nothing. 

“Where’s most of the pain exactly?”

“S’mainly my forehead, like right at my temples.”

“Gotcha, okay let’s see-”

His voice trails off as he shifts Ren’s fringe to the side. From where his hair had been covering, are the beginnings of two stubby red horns. 

“Uh, Pearl?” Martyn says, voice an octave higher than usual. “Can I get your professional opinion?”

Ren makes a concerned sound, but Martyn shushes him.

Pearl stands, and peers over his shoulder.

“Ah yep, what’d I tell ya! Bonafide demon, right here.” She claps Ren on the back, beaming. “Welcome to the club!”

“Ex-squeeze me?!”

“Um,” Martyn says, “Well. You’ve got horns now, apparently.”

“I- what?!”

“Teeny tiny little horns! Cute little baby horns!” Pearl flips down her hood, gesturing to the horns poking through her hair. “Yours are all teensy and round right now, but this is what they’ll look like eventually, taller and more pointed, see?”

“What.”

“Wow, scale of one to ten, how in denial were you about being a demon?”

Ren flails about, mouth hanging open. 

“Dude, I thought this was roleplay! Like, you know, acting?!” 

He laughs hysterically, hands gripping his hair.

“But Pearl’s actually a demon, and I- am too?”

Pearl looks pointedly at Martyn, meeting his eyes and then up to his forehead. He makes a frantic cutting motion at his neck, mouthing “Not the time.”

“I thought it’d be a fun way to make an alliance, but now BigB’s left me, and I’ve been consumed by the evil within!”

“Hey!” Pearl says, “That’s not what being a demon’s about! Having horns doesn’t make you a bad person, all it really does is make you better at magic, it’s kind of a sweet deal honestly.”

“Makes you better at black magic! The kind that corrupts the mind and soul! Only used by the most twisted and sadistic creatures, like you and I have been cursed to be forever mo-”

Martyn pushes him off the log. Ren falls with a thump, and gives him the most pitiful puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen.

“Don’t give me that look,” he says, offering a hand to help him back up. “You were getting way too into that.”

“And?” Ren takes his hand. “Dude, must you deny me theatrics in these trying times?”

“Oh, it’s really not that bad,” Pearl says, “You know how these worlds change you.”

“Changing when you go red isn’t the same as turning into a literal demon!”

“That’s not what I meant, c’mon, surely you know how important stories are here? The things you say and how other people see you have power, why do you think we’re demons?”

“I don’t understand?”

“Everyone rejecting me, saying I was cursed, that I was an omen, all of that builds up, and these worlds, they recognise it. You and BigB calling me a demon after you died was kind of the final straw, and now here I am!”

“So-” Ren tilts his head, frowning. “So, when those kinds of ideas become widely accepted, or strongly believed, the world- what, makes it true?”

Martyn’s gaze is drawn to the moon. He thinks about poetry, and a never ending darkness fading to white.

“Yeah, exactly! You’ve been here for a whole extra season than me, did you really not know?”

“No, I’d never thought about it like that,” Ren says, “This actually makes so much sense.”

“Right? Like, I bet BigB fully believed the soulbond meant you’d change to match your soulmate, so ta-da! He gets dog ears!”

“Oh my god! Pearl, you’re a genius!”

A log snaps in the fire, and Martyn startles, shaken from his thoughts. Overhead, clouds drift and cover the moon.

“You’re totally onto something here,” He says, “And no wonder people around Ren are so affected! You live for the drama, my liege.”

Ren’s ears lift up from where they’d been flat against his head.

“Like you don’t love it just as much, hand.” 

Martyn shrugs, grinning. He’s about to reply in kind, but he stops, turning to Pearl.

“Hang on, if you’re a demon because of Ren and BigB, is Ren a demon because of you?”

“Uhhh, maybe?” She scrunches up her nose in thought. “Pretty sure it’s more complicated than that, but I just had a feeling that you were.”

“Dude!” 

“These things just happen sometimes! Also, if you ditch me and make me a demon, I think it’s only fair for you to be ditched and also a demon.”

“Can’t argue with that, it is a pretty sweet parallel.”

“So… you alright now?”

“Better,” He admits, reaching up to tentatively touch his new horns. “Still sad about BigB though.”

“You deserve better than that cheating bastard!” Martyn says, impassioned. “Anyone who gives up having you as a soulmate clearly doesn’t know what they’re missing.”

“So true!” Pearl says, taking three wooden bowls from her inventory. “This whole soulmates thing is overrated anyway, having actual friends is way better.”

“You’re both right, but man, we had matching sunglasses and everything, I can’t believe he’d do that to me!”

Martyn gasps. “He got matching glasses, then went out to meet his secret admirer? The nerve!”

“I know what’ll help,” Pearl says, settling a cauldron over the fire. “Some soup!”

“Can we stir it together and pretend we’re the three witches from Macbeth?” Ren asks.

“You know it,” She grins, watching the water rise to a boil with mushrooms and spices at the ready. “Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble, baby!”

And so three demons huddle around a cauldron, firelight flickering over their faces as they sing and laugh into the dead of night. How sinister, truly. What a heinous group of evildoers.

[aeoki]

White Brim - Battle Royal: Chapter 5

Location: Forest (night) Characters: Touri & Tsukasa

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< Ten or so minutes after “Clam Digging” began. >

Touri: *Pant, pant…*

(Heheh ♪ I’m a second-year student in high school already – I’m not a small kid anymore.)

(So I figured I wouldn’t get excited about playing a game of tag.)

(But this is actually pretty scary…!)

(This is someplace away from town and it’s completely dark at this time of the night, so I feel like I’m gonna trip because I can’t see where I’m going! They did give us a strong torch too but…)

(If I turn it on, the “hunter (fisherman)” will find me, so I’m scared of turning it on~! But I can’t see without it so I can’t move!)

(What should I do~? I wanna talk with another “prey (fish)”, but this place is so big, I haven’t come across anyone else!)

(We do have a GPS device attached to us in case someone gets lost as well as a radar that will allow us to find everyone.)

(But it can only vaguely tell us that they’re somewhere “in this area”.)

(We can’t even tell if they’re a “hunter (fisherman)” or “prey (fish)” either, so I can’t approach them carelessly!)

(They might end up being the enemy and shoot me!)

(Uuu~ Eichi-sama was looking forward to this, so I wanted to do my best. I didn’t want him to think I’m someone who can’t take a hint and ruin things…)

(But maybe I was wrong in thinking that~!)

(I should’ve gotten caught by staying near the start area!)

(But Tsukasa looked like he was eager to catch me and I bet I would’ve been killed by him if I didn’t move away from there.)

(I definitely don’t want to be killed by him and see him making a fool outta me…!)

Eeek!?

(Huh? What? I just heard a rustling sound near the bushes.)

(Did I imagine it? Or did the wind make that sound? Or maybe it’s a rabbit or wild animal…?)

I–Is someone there…?

(Wait, I can just use the radar!)

(Uh, I just have to press this button, right…?)

Whaa!?

W–Who is it…? When did they get behind me…?

(N–No! I–I–I–I’m gonna get kille–)

Wait, is that you, Anzu…?

You’re taking part in this game too? Oh, right. You attended the party too…

And it’s not like this “Clam Digging” game only allows nobles to play. If anything, it’s a fun event where that sorta stuff gets thrown out the window, huh.

Ehehe ♪ But I’m so glad it’s you, Anzu~!

Oh, geez, don’t scare me like that. You should’ve just called out to me, you know~? I thought you were a “hunter (fisherman)” for a second ther–

(...Wait, there's an equal chance for Anzu to be a “hunter (fisherman)”, though. Yeah, a person’s usual status doesn’t matter here!)

(It’s possible that Anzu’s a “hunter (fisherman)” and she’s here to kill me!)

Um, Anzu? Can you show me your hand? If you have a gun or sword, then that would mean you’re a “hunter (fisherman)” that’s trying to kill me...

Oh! You’re not holding anything. Which means you’re the same as me.

Uuu~! Thank god~ You scared me back there ♪

Huh? You were scared too? Because you tripped when you were running away and dropped your torch somewhere?

Ohh, now that I think about it, it’s weird that you’re not holding anything. “Hunters (fishermen)” should’ve gotten a torch too.

Oh, geez, you’re so clumsy, Anzu. Ehehe, you supposed to be a capable “producer”, but that part of you hasn’t changed…♪

Then I’ve got no choice – I’ll walk around with you! I’ll shine the torch around us, so be thankful, okay?

Come on ♪ We might trip because of the darkness, so let's hold hands. I–It’s definitely not because I’m scared, okay? I’m doing it for you, Anzu!

Ehehe… This feels nostalgic~ We haven’t held hands and walked around like siblings in a long time.

That makes me happy. Anzu, it feels like you don’t give me much physical affection anymore since ES was established, but how come?

You used to let me sit on your lap and would feed me lunch with a “say ahh ♪”.

Hmm? I’m an idol and you’re a “producer”, so we need to draw a clear line?

I don’t get that! Even if our positions change, one thing that doesn’t is our friendship, right?

We’re equals during the “Clam Digging” game, so we’re good friends like before!

As long as I’m Touri Himemiya and you’re Anzu, then we’ll always be good friends, right?

Am I saying something weird?

Whaa? Don’t pat my head~ It’s rude!

Wait, we’re equals now so maybe it’s not so rude? Uuu~ this is confusing!

Tsukasa: Just when I thought I could hear a headache-inducing voice…

So it was you, Touri-kun.

What on earth could you be up to alone with Anzu Onee-sama…?

Touri: Geh, Tsukasa!? I can’t believe I got caught by the person I wanted to avoid the most…!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →