#her love language is spreading knowledge

[cc-kote]

So codywan has absolutely become my unwavering OTP and comfort ship, and while writing my fic I definitely took inspiration for their silly banter from the shit my gf and I say because it both feels in character and is just like, a reflection of the happiest, healthiest love I've ever experienced.

But I just realized today that I've been planning a big Cody inspired tattoo for my post-top surgery-recovery gift to myself, while my fuckin gf has a tattoo of the Jedi Order symbol. I've been planning this for months now and I didn't put that together until this morning when I woke up and was looking over at her tattoo. But like. Yeah no wonder that pairing means so much to me.

[yuwuta]

mine. — inumaki toge

❝i just wanna say you’re mine, you’re mine; fuck what you heard, you’re mine, you’re mine.

000. inumaki toge + reader

001. fluff, non-curse/college au, slightly suggestive but barely, inumaki uses sign language and speaks like two actual verbal words

002. baby sized drabble, barely even 1k words

Toge would consider himself patient. He doesn’t mind waiting in long lines for the release of a new game, has no problem when the trains are delayed because it means he can sit and relax in the station a little longer, can sit for hours on end doing nothing and not be bored—but his tolerance for watching other people mess with his girlfriend is extremely low.

He reasons that you continue the conversation because you think it’s merely friend and polite to do so, and you’ve always been such a pleasantly happy drunk. But Toge knows this conversation isn’t friendly on the other end—and it’s not some protective boyfriend instinct, either, he has solid evidence of this idiot talking about you to his other idiot friend in front of Toge during lecture, with no knowledge that he was behind them, or that you are very not single.

(“She’s gorgeous, bro, look,” the kid muses, showing his friend your Instagram profile, “She’s in my bioethics class, and she’s easily the hottest girl. Smart, too. Little bit of a teacher’s pet, but I don’t care, she’s beautiful. A solid eight, for sure.”)

Toge knows that if this guy ever got his head out of his ass and ever bucked up the balls to actually ask you out instead of using roundabout flirting tactics and hopelessly pining over you during lectures, that you’d turn him down. He isn’t worried about losing you, and he doesn’t doubt your love for him. It does, however, concern him that there are people who believe they have a shot with you in the first place. He can’t possibly let that carry on. 

(Also, an eight? How could this guy call you beautiful, but say you’re an eight? It doesn’t equate—Toge doesn’t believe in rating women, but you’re not an eight. You’re a fifteen on a scale of one to ten; a shining star amongst a sea of planets; the love of his life). 

His fuse is about to blow when the guy touches you, reaches for your hair and carefully twirls a bit between his fingers. He knows that move; he knows the excuse was probably that there was something stuck to your hair, but Toge didn’t see shit. He’s had enough, and promptly bulldozes through Maki’s small apartment to reach you. He’s not sure if he’s making a ruckus, or if you can sense him coming, but you turn your head in his direction, a smile spreading on your face before cheering, “Hey, Toge! Do you—”

You’re cut off by a tug on your shirt, firm and impatient—but you’re not moving yet, not quick enough, so he does it again. Your eyes seem to light up with realization. You turn back to acknowledge the boy, and that’s really when Toge really loses it. All he hears is the stupid, desperate pitch of the kid’s voice sputtering out something about finding you later and grabbing drinks for you both, even as Toge’s dragging you through the crowd.

You let yourself be pulled by Toge’s greedy hand. It’s not all that far, just into a corner of the hallway, next to a closet where Maki keeps her cleaning and kickboxing supplies. He’s tempted to pull you into her bedroom, but he’s not up for being bruised for a week. 

“You okay?” you question, voice sweet and genuine—and it makes him grimace, because you really didn’t have a clue. Not one at all. 

Toge huffs, drops your hand to sign; using his left hand to circle around his face slowly, tapping at his chin. You understand, but only partially, given the slight tilt of your head and question that follows, “Beautiful? That’s why you’re upset?” 

He blinks slowly, shaking his head and flailing his arms in the direction of the living room. You follow his hands, down the hall then back to his face, but he can tell you still don’t get it. He tries again, pointing to you, then repeating his previous sign and adding another, and he can see the realization spread across your face, followed shortly by a bashful chuckle. 

“Too pretty? Me?” you ask to confirm. Toge nods his head, all serious and steely eyes, but you throw yours back with a hearty laugh this time. He crinkles his eyebrows, repeating his initial signs this time. Hdoesn’t know what’s so funny, if you’re laughing because you’re flattered or you find him ridiculous or something in between, but Toge means it either way; wants to ingrain it into you, just how beautiful you are.

So, he raises his hands again, when your eyes have met him again, and goes slower this time—pulls his mask down for good measure, so you can read his expression more clearly—to sign one simple word: “Mine.”

You tilt your head to the side again, and now Toge is the one laughing. He thinks you might be a little more drunk than you’ve let on, or maybe you just want him to indulge you. Either way, he has no problem repeating himself, doesn’t mind telling you again and again and again. 

He takes a step forward, leaving mere inches between you. You seem much smaller than him like this, still giggling, but he doesn’t mind. Toge reaches for your rest again, turning your palm upward and using a single finger to trace the letters of the word “mine,” onto your skin.

Your laughter comes to a halt when you verbalize his words, “Mine?” Toge nods, turning your wrist again to lace your hands together, pushes yours against the wall, uses his free one to cradle your cheek. He adores the way your pupils get bigger, the way your lips part slightly in anticipation. It’s his turn to smile, pulling you towards him for a kiss and ghosting his words over your lips, “You’re mine.”

[kyriethesquishysquid]

Heard Through the Grapevine (König/Fem!Reader)

Summary: There were always crazy rumors whirling around military bases and KorTac was no different. König, in particular, was often the victim of the most vicious rumors. Despite knowing her opinion is unpopular, the lovely reader refuses to partake in spreading the lies and often stands up against them instead, all while trying to battle her growing feelings for the quiet colonel. 

Word count: ~9K

A/N: Some use of Y/N. Reader’s description is left rather vague but there are details of her being short, chubby, and with hair long enough to pull back. Reader is aged between her mid-twenties to mid-thirties. While König has no exact canon age, in this fic he will be somewhere around 40 (an age range I’ve seen people come to match with his ranking as colonel). König has anxiety, reader has anxiety, we ALL have anxiety. Slightly possible medical inaccuracies- While I am a nurse, I am not an AP or Emergency Room nurse so I’ve never done stitches myself. I’m using my basic medical knowledge, what I’ve learned in classes, and Google. So please forgive any inaccuracies! As always, I've never played COD. No beta we die like Graves.

TW: Porn with minor plot. Romance and smut. Slight age gap (reader is somewhere around 5-15 years younger than König). Size kink, mild innocence kink(?) dom/sub themes, M!dom/F!sub, major power play, praise-degradation, accent/language kink, voice kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, and loottss of pet names (I’m a whore for pet names) in both German and English. Mentions of violence. Talk of blood, wounds, and stitching in a medical setting. 

Simple Translations (Longer translations will be included next to their sentences!):

Scheiße - Shit

Kleines - Little one

Kätzchen - Kitten

Schätzchen - Sweetheart

Liebling - Darling/Love

“You can’t say he doesn’t terrify you!” 

Your friend’s words scoffed through a mouth full of pizza made you grimace for multiple reasons, a shrug of your shoulders being your only answer as you dug back into your mashed potatoes. 

“Seriously, Y/N?” Mark pressed harder with obvious disbelief. 

“What?” you retorted sharply, “Is it so hard to believe I’m not scared of the colonel just because he’s a big guy?” 

 “Then what’s with the way you look at him?” your best friend, Lisa, added, unable to hide the coy smirk growing.

A heavy sigh left your lungs and you dropped your spoon onto your plate, directing a deadpan look at the both of them as you realized they were not going to drop the subject. 

Damn her and her mischievous nature. She was the only one who knew even a little about your hidden feelings for König, having been spilled one late night under the stars after far too many drinks, and she hadn’t stopped giving you shit for it since. Thankfully, she was a good friend and didn’t air out your personal laundry to anybody; not even your other mutual friends. However, that didn’t stop her from teasing you at every turn possible. Like now. The whole topic was a stupid subject in your eyes, brought on by the recent rumors about König having decapitated a new recruit for looking at him wrong. Ridiculous, unbelievable, and yet people wouldn’t let it go. It made you feel a kinship for the big man. Though for different reasons, you’d been the subject of many rumors over your life, having been picked on and subjected to bullshit drama simply because of your weight. Perhaps that was the biggest trigger of it all, but the fact you truly liked König was certainly a major supporting factor.

“Colonel König is intimidating, yes, but most men are intimidating; save for the present company,” you shot back with a little grin, earning a scowl from said man, “Nonetheless, I’m not scared of him. He’s never raised his voice at me, nor given me a reason to believe those stupid fucking rumors people want to spread about him. He’s always treated me with respect, more than any of the other cocky bastards around here do really. Those stupid rumors come from people who are jealous of him, either his rank or his superior physical condition, OR from people who have nothing better to do with their downtime than come up with spooky stories.”

Your best friend’s eyes went owlish in shock, pulling the corners of your lips into a frown of frustration at her childish behavior, and you prodded her shin gently beneath the table. 

“For fuck's sake, stop looking at me like that. You know I respect and even like the colonel, okay? So no matter what silly shit floats around, I’m not going to believe a word of it until the day I see these supposed cruel actions in person,” you sighed, then pled with her softly, “Just- Just drop it, please.”

When she didn’t respond, you felt a prickle of uncertainty send the hairs on the back of your neck on end. You tried to catch her gaze only to see it traveling off to your right before finally coming back your way with a nervous laugh. 

“I- I didn’t realize it but… he was sitting behind you,” she murmured softly. 

Spine snapping straight, you gaped at her in shock. 

“No way, you’re joking, right?” you hissed. 

The slow shake of her head made your heart fall into your guts, pounding heavily in your veins as you nervously turned in the direction she had looked, only to find him putting up his dirty dishes and exiting the room. 

“Mother fucker!” you groaned, “So- So he heard all of that?!” 

When she nodded, you were almost sure you were going to faint. You and König were on good terms as nurse and patient but that didn’t mean you wanted him to think (however correct it was) that you had some kind of crush on him with how adamantly you defended him. 

Food suddenly didn’t seem so appetizing with the nerves buzzing in your stomach. Pushing your plate away, you got up from the table and quickly dismissed yourself with the excuse of paperwork piling up on your desk. It wasn’t a complete lie at least. Medical documentation was never-ending, especially in a military base with accident-prone soldiers. You only hoped you could make it back to the medical wing without running into the big man himself and making things more awkward. 

Dumping your food, you shoved the plate into the dirty dish bin and rushed out into the hall. You were grateful to find the foot traffic minimal, allowing you to cross the base as quickly as your short legs could carry you. Your anxiety was already high enough with the worries of what König now thought; adding another unknown variable into the mix would spell certain disaster for your mental stability.  

The instant you stepped foot into the medbay and found it empty, you shut and locked the office door before snagging up one of the throw pillows off the old beaten-up couch and screaming into said pillow with all of your might. You screamed and screamed, until your throat hurt and your heart pounded loud in your ears, until you felt that nervous buzz of panic fade from your skin and leave exhaustion behind. 

“I’m gonna need a fucking drink tonight,” you sighed as you dropped into your computer chair, “She’s gonna owe me for this shit.” 

With that last thought, you fell back into the monotonous routine of finishing up charts and notes from the day. 

The next few hours passed quickly into days and days into weeks, time flying by in a blur as you buried yourself in your work and your patients in hopes of forgetting your troubles. You were both relieved and frustrated that you hadn’t seen the colonel at all during that time; relieved you wouldn’t have to deal with an awkward situation but frustrated because, despite the anxiety, you missed his presence. It wasn’t until Horangi assisted a hunched-over König into the office three weeks later that you realized he’d been gone on a mission during that time, a mission that had obviously gone askew. Immediately you jumped to your feet and ushered the duo over, prepared to balance the injured giant on his other side if necessary.

“What happened?” you demanded as Horangi helped König sit on the medical bed. 

“Nothing serious,” König replied, letting out a hiss when Horangi jerked his hand away and none-too-gently removed the makeshift bandage from the bigger man’s side.

A shudder ran down your spine at the amount of drying blood shining against his tight black shirt and then you eyed the tear in the fabric. His pale flesh was covered in different states of drying blood but the bleeding of the visceral wound seemed to be, thankfully, stopped for the time being.

“Good god, not serious?!” you snapped in disbelief. 

König had the gall to roll his eyes as you muttered to yourself about men being stupid and stubborn. As you leaned in closer to examine the gash, Horangi moved aside to give you room. Luckily, the cut looked relatively clean but the depth of it was concerning, with multiple layers of tissue peeking through the wound. 

“Hey, I’m going to debrief with the general,” Horangi commented suddenly, “I’ll let him know you’re getting fixed up first.” 

König gave a small nod in reply as the other operator left the room and you stepped back with a half-smile. 

“I’m going to have to stitch that up. If you’re not comfortable with me doing it, I can call the doctor in but I have done them plenty before if-”

“Ja, I want you to do it,” he cut you off quickly. 

That wasn’t a surprise. Nobody enjoyed having to call one of the docs in during the middle of the night unless it was for a dire emergency because they were all, understandably, cranky when woken. 

“That’s fine,” you agreed, biting your lower lip before gesturing at him and adding, “I- I’ll need you to remove your shirt so I can get a better look and stitch you up.”

König let out a noise of understanding as you turned away to wash your hands and grab out all of the necessary equipment you’d need for the stitches. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t deep enough to have chanced any vital areas, especially since it was on his side, but there was no doubt it was still deep enough that it wouldn’t heal properly without treatment. How he was even upright and talking like normal was beyond you. You were just glad you had been an RN in the emergency room before transferring to KorTac, your time there invaluable for all the shit you’d had to put up with here between busy doctors and never-ending patients. 

“Alrighty, let’s get this show on the… road”

As your gaze met bare, toned, skin, your brain immediately melted into nothingness. Gone were all the years of medical training and college; all that remained were the hormones of a bitch in heat. Never, in the entire year you’d worked with KorTac, had you ever seen him shirtless. He was hardly in here, between his elite skills and natural resilience against being hurt, and the only times he had been were generally for serious things that the doctor would have to take care of, or for routine visits that wouldn’t require him shirtless. So to say you were struck dumb was an understatement. 

Logically, you had known König was fit. It was practically written in all of their contracts to stay in peak physical condition, and the compression shirts he wore did nothing to hide the defined muscles in his arms and stomach, but seeing him without the fabric was even more daunting than you had expected. 

“Schätzchen?” he asked softly, voice full of something that sounded like concern. 

His gloved fingers touching your face finally jerked you out of your entirely inappropriate fantasy of getting the chance to lick up and down his abdomen and you nearly squeaked in shock, barely concealing the noise by clearing your throat. 

“Uh, sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me, uh, okay. Can you lie down for me, please? I’m sure you know this works but I’m gonna numb you up first. It’s probably going to sting,” you warned him.

Setting the equipment on the metal rolling table, you took the last terrifying steps toward him and it took everything in your power not to moan as you realized you were directly face to face with firm pecs until he finally sat. You managed to shake away the lustful thoughts on your own this time and pulled on gloves before grabbing up the syringe. 

“Ready?” you asked, not daring to meet his eyes lest you get too flustered to work. 

“Ja, go ahead,” he rumbled. 

With a steadying breath, you carefully poked the needle into the top layers of the wound and pushed the plunger down slowly. You’d seen other soldiers cry over the pain of a lidocaine injection into an open wound, not that you could blame them, but, of course, König took it all without even flinching. The man really acted like he was made of stone. It was insane. 

“That should kick in in just a few,” you murmured, capping the needle and placing it into the sharps container, “Wanna tell me what happened while we wait?” 

Feeling safe back near the cabinets rather than within arms reach, you finally let your eyes find him and watched in disbelief as he sat up without even a wince, cool blue eyes clear and steady.  

“Ah, nothing serious. There was one hidden upstairs and we didn’t realize it until- well, this,” he replied after a moment, gesturing to his side with a half-chuckle half-sigh. 

A frown turned down your lips at that. God, you really had it lucky, sitting here in your cushy position as a nurse. Sure, the hours sucked, and seeing people hurt (or god forbid worse) really sucked, but at least your life was never in danger like theirs. You hated thinking about him getting hurt like this, no matter how silly it was since he could obviously take care of himself. Swallowing hard, you nodded and grabbed another fresh pair of gloves, snapping them on with a forced smile. 

“Well, I’d hate to see the other guy then,” you teased softly.

It was a joke, and yet it wasn’t. You had no doubt his assailant hadn’t made it out of there in one piece. 

“Let’s just say, not even a talented nurse such as yourself could help him when I was done with him,” he replied.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how his eyes crinkled beneath the faded black smudges, further conveying the amusement lacing his tone. 

“I bet. I know I wouldn’t want to be your enemy, colonel,” you snickered, “Okay, lie down again for me please.”   

König leaned back with a little groan and tucked his right hand behind his head, keeping the angle perfect to avoid stretching or squishing the skin around the wound. There was a comfortable silence as you readied the needle with thread in the driver. You gave him a testing tap around the wound, to which he quickly affirmed he felt nothing before you got to work. You quickly cleaned the area, put a clean drape around it, and then snagged up the needle. It had been a bit since you’d done sutures on such a wound but you quickly fell back into the familiar rhythm with simple interrupted stitches. 

“You’re rather good at that,” he complimented quietly.

You felt your cheeks warm at the praise as you sent him a warm smile and replied, “Thank you. It’s nice to know I haven’t lost my touch since leaving the emergency department.” 

“Oh? What made you decide to come here instead?” 

Well, this was new. While König was always kind to you, it generally never went beyond small talk. You knew as much about him as he did you, though you couldn’t lie and say you were complaining about the change. That little fangirl you tried to hide so deep inside was dancing with elation over the fact that he was trying to keep a conversation going, but it wasn’t helping your little crush one bit.  

“Honestly? Better pay and escape from a bad home situation,” you admitted honestly, “I just didn’t have a great environment to accel in and when my cousin mentioned joining you guys, it just made sense.”  

Tying the last end into a square knot, you snipped off the extra thread and stood with a proud smile, examining your handiwork happily. 

“Gotta say, you’re a model patient, colonel. I don’t wanna see you in here for this again though,” you playfully scolded. 

As you turned away, you were startled by a sudden deep laugh. Not a chuckle or a snort, but a full-on belly laugh, and you were absolutely certain you’d never heard anything more beautiful.  

“And here I was thinking about getting stabbed again just so I could see meine süße kleine krankenschwester.” (My sweet little nurse)

“Hey, no using languages I can’t understand,” you retorted with a giggle, ducking your face in hopes of hiding the way your cheeks flushed with lust at the sound of his mother tongue. 

Why was that so sexy, hearing him speak German? Not that his speaking normally didn’t affect you but, when he fell into his old language, it just did something different. Another laugh rumbled from the man as you went about cleaning up the utensils and you had to grin. You knew, going forward, you’d do anything you could to hear that laugh again. A small glimmer of hope flickered to life in your chest as you ungloved and tossed them in the trash. Maybe this was the beginning of an actual friendship… or more.

As you scolded yourself over the lofty dreams, a presence against your back put a sudden stop to your motions, every last bit of you freezing in place except your heart which pounded valiantly in your veins. 

“You- You shouldn’t- shouldn’t move around so much,” you whispered breathlessly as you tried to shake off the sudden nerves, “Don’t wanna rip your stitches out already.” 

He was all but impossible to ignore, standing so close that you were certain you’d bump into him if you breathed too hard. Taking a small stabilizing breath, your eyes closed in frustration as you caught his scent, the faint smell of sweat, gunpowder, and something spiced, possibly a faded cologne or body wash overtaking your senses. It took all of your will to keep moving and cleaning up as if everything was normal. As you grabbed the antiseptic, you could visibly see the way your hands shook and mentally berated yourself. You were literally just sticking a needle into his side minutes ago. Why was this affecting you so much?! 

You grabbed onto the counter for balance and lifted onto tiptoe only to have the bottle suddenly snagged from you and shelved in its spot just barely within your reach. It would have been completely fine, a nice gesture even, if it weren’t for the fact he had to lean against you to do it. With his free hand resting against your waist for balance, you could feel every- single- fucking- inch of his form against yours. Forbidden images of him taking you right there against the counter flooded your thoughts when you got a very personal feel of his dick against your lower back, completely prominent in its shape even while soft.

The fates were fucking testing you to the ends of your limits at that point. 

“You should get a step stool, kleines, don’t want to hurt yourself,” he mused quietly.

A shaky nod was all you could manage, your fingers wrapping around the edge of the solid countertop and holding on for dear life. You couldn’t find it in you to reply with the mortifying lust clouding your mind. With your luck, instead of thanking him you’d ask to repay the favor with a blowjob. 

Deep breaths. In and out. After a few moments, you knew you should respond. You had to do something to diffuse the situation because he was obviously content to let you stew in your thoughts.  

“You- You- Uhm, you should go rest,” you stammered out after a moment.

And then he was gone. The instant he stepped away, you nearly dropped to the floor, your knees weak and back now startlingly cold. Tucking some hair behind your ear, you spun around and prepared to give him the usual medical spiel about resting and letting the wound heal, only to lose the ability to speak when a large hand cupped your jaw. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

His voice was soft, warm with a tinge of amusement dancing at the edges, and suddenly you remembered the stupid conversation you’d had with your friends in the canteen. Your tongue felt thick and immovable so you settled for shaking your head no, trying to convey that he, in fact, hadn’t scared you.

“No? No, what?” he asked. 

Swallowing down the urge to moan, you shakily replied, “You don’t- didn’t scare me.” 

Your plump cheeks burned hot at the way his icy blue eyes subtly changed, lids lowering into an indiscernible expression as his irises searched your face thoroughly. 

“Are you sure? You’re suddenly much quieter, Schätzchen.”

A little curse escaped before you could catch it as you subconsciously melted into his hand when his thumb started stroking your jawline. The calloused texture rubbed deliciously against your soft skin and sent goosebumps down your arms.    

“I-I’m sure,” you answered, voice barely audible even in the silent room, “Just… unexpected.” 

When he leaned down and hovered just above your ear, you swore you were about to combust. He was close, too fucking close. Delectably within reach and yet so far away in the ways that mattered. Your thighs clenched together in search of some kind of relief when his scent infiltrated your senses again, the same as before but so much stronger, and you couldn’t help the way your stomach fluttered traitorously. 

“That’s all, hmm?” he rumbled lowly. 

Oh. That bastard! He knew what he was doing to you and he was teasing you about it! How was this the same quiet colonel that you practically had to bully into saying more than a few words just a couple of weeks prior? You lifted your hands and prepared to shove him away, to give him a piece of your mind, but he threw you another curveball with the sudden sensation of soft lips against your throat.

“Ah!” 

This time, your gasp was loud, rivaled only by the pounding thump of your heart threatening to burst from your chest. 

“I asked you a question, kleines, I expect an answer.”

A truly pathetic whine fell from your lips as your head fell to rest against his shoulder. How were you supposed to answer him?! Your tongue felt thick and immovable as you soaked in the sensation of his skin against yours.  

“König, please, I don’t- I don’t understand what you want here,” you finally managed to croak through parted lips. 

He let out a small hum but didn’t answer right away. His lips busied themselves trailing barely-there kisses up and down the side of your neck. When you felt his nose brush against your ear, you nearly jumped. Every touch threatened to make you come apart right then and there and it was quickly becoming too much.

“Is- Is this about what I said a few weeks ago?” you pushed for an answer. 

Pausing in his thorough exploration of your flesh, he let out a little breath before humming back, “Mmhmm. Imagine my surprise when I heard you defending me, Schätzchen, heard you tell your little friends so certainly that you were not scared of me; that you even liked me.”

Your nails instinctively dug into his bare arms as you fought for your sanity, his teeth scraping your neck and raveling away what little sensibilities you had left. 

“At first, I doubted what I heard,” he spoke as his hands took hold of your hips and squeezed softly, “You are so soft and sweet. Untouchable to someone like me. I’ve spent the last few weeks debating, agonizing over if you might feel what I felt. Tonight though, with the way you looked at me? I could finally see it.” 

When he pulled back, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze again but he was quick to correct that with a little nudge. 

“Still so shy.”

Your thoughts were running a thousand miles an hour; fear, lust, and disbelief were shouting at you in so many different ways that you thought you would pass out from overstimulation alone. While you’d thought about this happening almost every night since you’d first talked with him, you’d always assumed he would be a fantasy only. You never imagined the quiet, steadfast, colonel would ever have a mutual interest in you. Part of you wanted to drop to your knees and thank him for even touching you, while the other waited with panic-laced worries for him to announce that it was some kind of prank. 

When his calloused fingers trailed up your face and into your hair to scrape your scalp, it was like he flipped a magical switch. Gone were the panicked thoughts, the uncertainties, and the insecurities. All that existed were the beautiful sensations he created. 

“Does that feel good?” he asked. 

You nodded dumbly and let your eyes flutter back open as you heard him laugh, flushing with desire as you were once more pinned with those gorgeous eyes of his. 

“This isn’t some kind of joke, is it?” you finally questioned, managing to get somewhat of a grip on your psyche, “Because if it is, I’ll-” 

A sharp sting through your scalp cut you off as he tightened his fingers in your hair, following your silence with disappointed tongue clicks. 

“Do I really seem like the kind of man who would joke about something like this?” 

You shook your head slowly, muttering a defeated little “No sir” in response. Your efforts were rewarded with the release of your hair, hand tenderly cupping the nape of your neck instead. 

“I need to hear you say you want this before it goes any further,” he instructed you, firmly but gently.    

As your lips parted, you hesitated. Of course, you wanted this, but here? Now? Your eyes darted nervously to the cracked door before catching his once more. 

“I- I do but… König, anyone could come in and, god, you’re hurt and-”

You watched in awe, voice trailing off into silence, as he leaned in and pulled up his sniper hood, revealing a black gaiter which he promptly tugged down. The peek of a strong, square, jawline peppered with a short stubble made your eyes open wide in shock but your attention was quickly captured by his full lips, curled up into a smirk with a peek of sharp canines flashing through. Fuck, if only part of him was this gorgeous, you were afraid to see him completely bare. 

“As I have said, it’s not serious, and you’ve so graciously patched me up,” he purred softly, eyes boring holes into your sole as his lips almost touched yours, “Now, tell me kleines, do- you- want- this?”

“Yes, god, ple-”

Fingers dug hard into your soft sides as he finally captured your mouth in a gentle kiss and you instinctively stretched up to meet him, hands sliding up to wrap around the back of his neck in an attempt to convey just how badly you wanted him. Words weren’t your forte but actions… actions you could manage. 

A quiet groan escaped your lips as you felt his hips press against yours and hands came down to grab your ass. Your shock quickly turned into concern when you felt him start to lift you. 

“König, no!” you scolded him as you wiggled out of his grasp. 

The colonel had the gall to look confused by your rejection. 

You gestured to his freshly sewn stitches and bit out, “I don’t care how much you say it’s fine. I refuse to be the reason you pop your stitches and I’d rather not have to put a needle in your again. Just…” 

Your stern words trailed off as you saw the mild pink tinge across his upper cheeks. He was too adorable. Huffing out a low sigh, you rested your hands against his firm pecs and gently pushed him back toward the bed. 

“Lay down, I’m shutting the door real quick.”

Thankfully, he didn’t bother arguing, just turned with an annoyed grunt as you shut and locked the door. The annoyance in his eyes dropped the instant you carefully climbed up onto the bed with him, letting him guide you to sit over his thighs comfortably. 

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it in a way that you won’t get hurt,” you warned him. 

“Verdammte Hölle,” he scoffed lowly, fingers digging into the plush softness of your thighs, “Fine, if you insist, just get over here.” 

A gasp passed from your lips into his when he dragged you in closer and you felt the bulge of his cock already growing through his cargos. And what a fucking power rush that was, to know you were affecting one of the strongest men in existence. You! A short, chubby, nobody-famous nurse and this god-like man wanted you. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out quietly, hands coming to rest on his chest as he guided your hips down against his, “König, I said-”

“You may be on top of me, but you are in no way in control, understood, Kätzchen?” he bit out huskily. 

Your heart stammered in your chest but you managed a little nod in response. Apparently subdued by your acceptance, his hands spurred you into motion once more, tearing a broken moan from your chest as his hardness pressed deliciously against the apex of your thighs. Even though clothing, he was working you up entirely too easily.  

He attacked your neck once more and growled out a terse, “Scheiße, I always knew you’d sound fucking beautiful like this. Mein kleines engel, so verdammt unschuldig und süß.” (My little angel, so fucking innocent and sweet)

While you had no idea what he said, it was clearly something sexual and you couldn’t help the way you shuddered. It was kind of funny. When you first met him, you’d been shocked by the pitch of his voice, having expected such a giant being to have a deep voice; and now… now you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Oh? Magst du es, wenn ich mit dir Deutsch spreche, mein dummes kleines Kätzchen?” (“Do you like when I speak German to you, my silly little kitten?”)

Instinctively, you ground down in search of relief as his voice filled your head and took over your thoughts. 

He chuckled softly and murmured, “You do like it. I can feel the way your sweet little cunt throbs against me each time. Do you always react this way when I speak German around you?” 

Your body froze at that, face heating and flushing down your chest as you finally understood what he was saying. No fucking way.

“You- You can feel it?” you asked meekly, hoping he’d say no. 

“Mmhmm, Deine kleinen Zuckungen sind so süß- Ah, there is it again,” he teased, “So, kleines? Is it like that every time?” (Your little twitches are so cute)

With a frustrated groan, you quietly admitted it before ducking down to bite onto his shoulder. You felt a thrill of satisfaction when you felt his cock jump between your thighs but didn’t even stop to gloat, too enthralled by the taste of his skin. You didn’t dare leave marks, unsure of the protocol for his position, but gods you wanted to. Maybe another time, if you were given the chance. Scraping your teeth across his flesh, you scooted back to sit farther down his thighs and began to make your way down his collarbone and chest until you were able to gently bite the meatiest part of his pec. 

“Ah, Scheiße!”

Before he could react further, you continued on and swiped your tongue across his nipple, earning a guttural moan and his fingers curled into the hair at the back of your head. For a moment, you questioned if he intended to stop you but, when he didn’t, you did it again. The little muffled curses he let out only worsened the mess in your panties and you had to restrain yourself from reaching down to ease the ache. It wasn’t until you were kneeling between his thighs and working at his belt that he finally stopped you.

“Kätzchen, just what do you intend to do?” he asked as you nibbled softly at the skin above his pants. 

You let out a huff and rolled your eyes up at him. 

“I intend to suck your cock, if that’s okay, colonel,” you shot back. 

He mumbled something quietly under his breath then added louder, “While I would love that, I don’t know how much time we have.” 

As you finally worked his belt open and began tugging his pants down, you couldn’t help but pout. 

“That’s not fair. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” you whined. 

The way his eyes rolled back and his hips arched made you grin. 

“And I would love to see those beautiful lips wrapped around my dick, but another time, kleines. Right now, I need to be inside of you.”

Your cunt clenched instinctively at that, at the promise of another chance to touch him, and you finally relented with a sigh. 

“Fine, fine, but you owe me later,” you replied, letting him pull you back over his lap. 

With a chuckle, he pulled you into a kiss and mumbled, “Of course, Schätzchen. Anything you wish, whenever you wish- except for right now.”

A flush crossed your face, deep and hot, as his words settled into your chest. When he began tugging at your jeans, you helped slide them and your panties down until they were hooked around just one leg. You weren’t given much time to ruminate on the feeling of your bare flesh against the scratchy fabric of his pants before the sensation of calloused fingers sliding down your slit stole both your attention and breath. 

“Ooh, look at you,” he crooned lowly, fingertips pushing between your lips and sliding back up until he found your clit, “So wet for me already.” 

Worrying your lower lip, your forehead rested against his cheek and your nails dug into his shoulders as you nodded slowly. Of course, you were. Who wouldn’t be when Adonis was touching them? He moved slowly, gently, almost as if afraid to go faster. It felt good but it wasn’t enough. 

“Ich wünschte, ich könnte jetzt meine Zunge in dieser heißen kleinen Muschi haben. Ich wette, du schmeckst himmlisch.” (I wish I could have my tongue in this hot little pussy right now. I bet you taste like heaven.)

“Ffff-Fuck!”

A broken whine escaped your lips when he finally slipped a lone finger into your core and it took everything within you not to collapse at that moment. One of his felt like two of yours but reached even deeper. You couldn’t resist rocking into his motions as he carefully worked you open. 

You didn’t even get a chance to cover your mouth before he suddenly forced in a second one and curled them against your g-spot, a moan spilling from the big man beneath you as you mewled.  

“More,” he demanded as his other hand tugged up his hood once more and smashed his mouth against yours, “Again.” 

You didn’t stand a chance in hell at ignoring his commands with the way he began hooking his fingers in a constant come hither motion against your spongy patch of nerves. Tears burned in your eyes as you fought for breath against the onslaught of sensations plaguing your body. It’d been so long since you’d let anyone else touch you, relying on your own hand and toys for release, and fuck if it wasn’t overwhelming. 

“König, ple-please!” you begged weakly, unable to keep from trembling against him as he brought you dangerously close to the edge. 

For all his talk about not having time, he was surely taking his. His fingers felt incredible but you needed to feel his cock. 

“Yes, Kätzchen?”

“Want you. Need you, please!”

His low moan was the only answer you needed, shaky hands diving down to work the waistband of his pants lower and tug at his boxer-briefs. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open to focus, too lost in the delirium of your approaching climax and the pleasure dancing along your skin. 

When you finally pulled him free, you instantly shoved his hand away and shuffled up until his tip was kissing your entrance, but he halted your motions before you could do more. 

“Don’t go too fast, alright? I don’t want you to get hurt,” he instructed you gently. 

You barely managed to open your eyes enough to meet his and nodded hastily. Go slow. You could do that. And yet, when he finally allowed you to move, you were tempted to just slam down, no matter how massive he felt. However, your self-control prevailed, only held back by the reminder that he’d probably stop you if you got hurt. 

It wasn’t until you started to lower yourself and you felt the fat head of his cock begin to split you open that you really understood why he’d been warning you, prickles of pain and pleasure dancing behind your clenched eyes as you sucked in a harsh breath. It didn’t matter that you were soaking wet and more than ready, your body was fighting to take each inch. 

“That’s it, gutes Kätzchen, just like that,” he praised softly. (Good Kitten)

Finally, after what felt like forever, your hips settled down against his and you let out a little mewl of satisfaction. 

“Jesus fuck,” you breathed out huskily, “This feels- Fuck, I can’t even describe it.”

“I know.” 

His voice sounded as tightly wound as you felt. Every muscle in your body ached but none more than the throb of your core. 

“Can- Can I move?” you asked. 

“If you’re ready.”

Steading yourself with his broad shoulders, you lifted up and slowly dropped back down, nails digging into his skin as he touched every last inch inside of you. When your eyes fluttered open, your cheeks bloomed a deep red as you found him already staring at you with awe in his gaze. It would have been anxiety-inducing if it weren’t for the bruises his fingers were leaving on your hips and the quiet little grunts falling under his hood. Knowing he was watching you though, it was daunting and lit a flicker of doubt in your chest, demanding you do everything to make sure you looked and felt your best for him. 

“Ah, wait, here,” he gasped suddenly, halting your motions as he tugged up your T-shirt.

You almost stopped him, wary of fully exposing any parts of you that you felt uncomfortable about, but he was too quick. He tucked the hem into the neckline of your shirt and instantly tugged down the cup of your bra, one hand wrapping around and lifting your breast while the other hand palmed your back and jerked you forward until he could wrap his lips around your nipple with a heady groan. 

“Fuck, König!” you whimpered, shocks of bliss making you pulse around his cock.

His moan was loud against your flesh as his hand left your back and guided your hips into motion once more, the dual stimulation enough to make you shudder. Bit by bit, you were able to work up to a faster pace, until pleasure started to take hold of your mind and you lost all sense of rhythm, more focused on coming than putting on a good show. 

“Ohgodohgod ohmygod!” 

A heavy growl vibrated against your skin as he grunted out between kisses, “Oh Gott, das ist es Kätzchen, kommst du mich holen?” (Oh god, that’s it kitten, are you going to come for me?)

You buried your frantic cries into your palm as you felt tears begin to fall. It was too good, too much, and you fucking loved it. The burn of his cock stretching your walls brought you so close to the edge that it hurt, each thrust making your clit throb with need. You managed a panicked, muffled, plea and were rewarded with teeth sinking into your flesh and a calloused thumb on your sensitive nub, tearing a hellish screech from your lips as you were instantly pushed over the edge. Your hand barely contained the frantic moans pouring from your throat as he pushed you through the crest. Every swipe of his thumb and thrust of his cock brought on another wave of pleasure, again and again until you lost the ability to do more than exist. 

With an audible pop, he pulled back from your abused skin and relaxed back against the bed, moans starting to rival yours in volume as his hands took hold of your hips and his knees bent under you. When he started thrusting up to meet each bounce of your hips, the fog finally took over completely. Leaning back enough to wrap your hands around his forearms, you gave over that last bit of control and just followed his lead. The sound of your ass meeting his thighs became louder, faster, in the quiet room; a lewd soundtrack coupled with the squeaks of the medical bed and your unstifled noises of pleasure.

“Mein gott. Look at that face. Not a single thought going through that sweet little head of yours, is there?” he groaned, chuckling when you suddenly leaned forward and buried your face in his neck with a meek hum, “No, no, don’t be embarrassed, kleines. It’s a compliment to have such an intelligent woman so brainless from my cock.”

You instinctively clenched around him and nuzzled further into his neck out of mortification. God, that shouldn’t be hot! You shouldn’t like that and yet you do. How did he manage to weave together such sexual praises into something that sounded like genuinely sweet compliments? 

“Sit back up, now,” he commanded sternly, “I want to see that beautiful face when I come.”

The change in position instantly put your senses back on edge, the press of his cock against your sweet spot all too tantalizingly perfect as he muttered gentle praises and led you back into rhythm, words slowly dissolving into the most unholy whimpers and grunts you’d ever heard. It wasn’t long until you couldn’t make out a single thing he said, English long evolved into German between frantic moans of your name. 

Suddenly his grip became overwhelmingly painful and you let out a squeal of panic, but the pressure was easily forgotten in favor of bliss as he began to thrust into you violently. It was almost as if he were trying to fuck himself into your cervix, a scary thought knowing he had the length to do so, but every attempt you made to lift off of him and create space was thwarted by his superior strength. And gods, if that didn’t do the dirtiest things to you. Even when he released one hip, he was powerful enough to keep you in place with just one hand, the other suddenly reappearing between your thighs. 

“Oh- Oh god, yes, König, just-” 

All it took was a few circles around your sensitive clit before you were thrown over the edge once more with a scream. Wave after wave rocked through your body as you rode him hard, thighs shaking and heart pounding as you scratched at him and cried his name all too loudly.  

“Oh Scheiße, ich werde kommen, bitte, nicht aufhören, nicht aufhören, bitte, bitte, bitte!” (Oh shit, I'm gonna come, please, don't stop, don't stop, please please please!)

Even in German, his message was clear. Fighting through your own hazy pleasure, you tightened your thighs and clenched around his cock eagerly, whimpering his name and pleading with him to come. You weren’t given any warning as he suddenly grabbed your neck and jerked you down into a ravenous kiss, a mixture of high-pitched keening and growling moans pouring into your mouth like oxygen when he buried himself one last time to the hilt. 

Tremors ran through your being as you felt his cock twitching, heat filling you with each pulse, and you couldn’t help the tears suddenly building in your eyes again. 

“Holy fuck,” you whined against his lips. 

When you clenched around him again and tried to move your hips, he put a stop to it immediately, arms wrapping around you and trapping your body to his. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed darkly, “You start that andI won’t want to stop, and we definitely don’t have time for that.”  

A little grin crossed your lips as you melted into his hold and murmured, “Aye, aye, colonel.” 

His little snort of a laugh jostled you against his frame only for him to still and hold you tighter. You turned to rest your ear against his chest and listened to the steady heavy beat of his heart while your fingers trailed up and down his arms. 

“That was okay, right?” he asked after a moment, the uncertainty surprising. 

It took some effort to get him to let you go but you managed to finally sit up, hands slowly pushing up the edges of his mask to just until his lips were visible again, and you kissed him softly. 

“Better than I’ve imagined,” you whispered softly. 

He tensed for a moment before a little huff of a laugh puffed across your lips. 

“You’ve imagined this?” he asked back. 

Chewing your lower lip as you lifted again, you gave a shrug and replied, “Yeah, a lot, if I’m being honest. As you heard, you’re an intimidating man, colonel, but really, it only adds to your appeal.” 

It felt weird to be so openly blunt about your attraction to him but you supposed you were past the point of second-guessing things. His eyes searched your face intently for just a moment before he smiled, a warm, heart-pounding expression that made your knees weak. Fuck, maybe he hid his face for that reason. It wouldn’t do to have everyone tripping over themselves at his beauty. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he murmured softly, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, “As much as I want to hold you longer, I’m afraid we should get decent before someone comes along and-”

“Fuck, yeah, you’re right!” you gasped, eyes darting to the door instinctively as you clambered off the bed. 

The moment you released your hold on him, your knees tried to give out but he was quick to give you a balancing hand. You thanked him quietly as you fixed yourself quickly- Well, as quickly as you could when your legs felt like jelly and your head was still spinning. When you were finally all dressed, he was carefully sliding his shirt back on. 

“Wait, let me make sure we didn’t tear anything loose.”

He gave you a look that told you how ridiculous he thought you were being, but he humored you with a sigh after a moment. Leaning in, you looked over the stitches and were happy to find everything still intact. 

“Good to go! Thank goodness,” you sighed happily, then flushed as you looked up at him, “Uh, you’ll have to come back in seven to ten days to get the stitches removed, which I’m sure you know. Other than that, just take it easy. Any damage you do will only prolong how long you’ll have to be on light duty.” 

“I see, and if I need assistance with any in the meantime? I can come to you?” he teased, eyes crinkling warmly at the edges.

Unable to hold in your grin, you replied, “Always. I’d be glad to help with anything you need, colonel. Just come find me.”

You tossed him a coy smile before making your way to the door, only to get spun and pushed up against the wood without warning. One big hand cupped your neck and forced your head up as he leaned in and kissed you, soft and light in a way that made your toes curl. 

“Sorry, needed one more,” he purred softly, chuckling as your face went hot. 

“Get out of here before I make up a reason to keep you here overnight,” you bit out teasingly. 

He gave you a mock salute before releasing you and allowing you to open the door. His gaze became soft once more when he studied you as you leaned against the door frame. 

“I’ll see you again soon. Have sweet dreams, Kätzchen.” 

“You too, König.”

When he finally walked away down the hall, you couldn’t help but watch him go. God, that man had the most perfect ass, and don’t even get started on that broad back. Biting back the flare of lust threatening to rekindle in your stomach, you ducked back into the office and ran a hand through your now-tangled locks, letting out a low sigh. The clock on the wall read two thirty in the morning, which meant you thirty minutes to get König’s chart typed up and then you could finally head home for the night. Thoughts of a hot shower and your soft bed had you groaning. Yeah, you were definitely going to sleep good tonight. 

…

“Sooo, how was your weekend?” Lisa asked, eyebrows jumping up and down in anticipation as you slid into the seat opposite her and Mark. 

You simply threw her a nonplussed look, not daring to give her any inclination. Lisa was good about keeping your feelings secret but you weren’t sure she could contain herself in public if you told her about what had happened with König, not to mention you didn’t want to chance him getting some sort of backlash if the fraternization rules applied to you. You’d have to do some research on that later if you two were going to meet up again at some point. Logically, seeing as you were contracted as a nurse and not as a solider, you hoped that you were outside of those rules but you weren’t certain.  

“It was fine. Nothing too crazy,” you lied seamlessly. 

She seemed to deflate at that. 

“Really? When I saw the colonel was back I had hoped…”

“Well, you hoped wrong,” you replied blandly, “I saw him but nothing happened. It’s fine, really. Probably for the best to maintain that professional boundary.” 

A body collapsing onto the bench beside you made you jump and nearly spill your food until you caught it at the last second, your heart racing from the shock until you saw it was one of Mark’s buddies at your side. 

“Hey, Ian,” Mark greeted, “What’s up?”

He was obviously as confused about his friend’s appearance as you were, but your confusion didn’t last long when he suddenly turned to face you. 

“So, I heard from a little birdie that you were single right now. Is that true?” Ian pressed, lips quirking up into a grin.

You shot a deadly look at Mark, earning a silent apology as his face heated, before you addressed the private next to you.

“I am but-”

“Great! You should come out with me Friday night! I have a weekend pass and I need a pretty lady to take with me to the city!” 

Well, shit. You knew nothing about Ian. You hoped he was a decent guy and wouldn’t be upset over you rejecting him since he was Mark’s friend but men were tricky. How were you supposed to turn him down without hurting or angering him? As your lips parted to answer, a massive hand suddenly slid around your throat and silenced you. Eyes wide in fear, you let out a shocked whimper and froze in place, only to catch the familiar scent of a warm cologne as a hard body pressed against your back. 

“There you are, liebling, I’ve been searching all over for you.”

König. Oh. Fuck. Tilting your head back at his insistence, you let your eyes meet his icy blues, obviously crinkled in joy. When his fingers tightened around your throat, you couldn’t help the way your face flushed in delight, your entire body warming with insatiable need as he descended and planted a loud smacking kiss on your forehead.

“Come now, I’ve brought lunch for us.” 

The entire table was silent during the exchange and you could practically feel Lisa vibrating in her seat, but you didn’t dare look away from him to address her. Nodding once, you rose to your feet where he finally released your throat. He interlaced his fingers with yours and you instinctively scooted closer, enjoying the body heat and comfort he put off.

“I’ll uh- I’ll see you guys later,” you threw back as he led you out of the canteen. 

The walk was quiet as he dragged you through the halls until he finally stopped at his office. With a little murmur, König opened the door and ushered you in first. The moment the door slammed shut, you were unceremoniously shoved against it, a little oomph escaping your lips at the impact. A weak moan left your lips as you felt his breath against your ear.

“Ungezogenes kleines Kätzchen,” he purred huskily “From now on, you will let it be known that you’re with me, got it?” (Naughty little kitten)

You hesitated before nodding and replied, “Y-Yes sir. I wasn't sure- I didn’t know what-” 

“Shh, shh, I know, schatz. It is not your fault. I didn’t make my intentions quite clear. You belong to me now.”

A shudder ran down your spine, forcing a moan low in your throat as you practically preened under his possessive claim. Despite the threatening tone, you felt no fear. If anything, it turned you on more than ever. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now get on my desk,” he instructed. 

Your confused glance was met with a smirk and a wink as he pulled away. 

“I prefer to have my dessert first, Kätzchen. We can eat lunch after.” 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for defending infodumping as a concept?

so I don't think I'm the asshole here but I would like to read different perspectives. i had a conversation with a not so close friend and I said that small talk was ableist because it's weaponized against neurodivergent ppl especially autistic ppl.

i'm autistic and I looove infodumping, it's a love language, if I find something interesting I want to share with ppl I care about.

my friend said that small talk isn't more ableist than infodumping. i asked her why she would say something like that and she said she has some kind of personality disorder that makes her think that ppl are looking down on her or something, I don't know exactly. so if a person infodumps and turns a convo into a monologue she feels like she can't make her voice heard and that she's less important or somthing and if the person infodumps about something she already knows about she feels that the person think she's clueless/ignorant and it can often come across as bossy.

I said that that's completely different, infodumping isn't to show we're so smart or anything and it isn't weaponized, and it's frankly really mean to autistic ppl to call it ableist.

she said it wasn't ableist but neither was smalltalk, and the latter can be kind and caring too. I think there's a huuuuge difference tho... as I said, infodumping is to spread happiness and knowledge while small talk is just to test others to see how well they perform humanity or whatever.

[samandcolbyownme]

We need more demon!Colby or vampire!Sam 👀

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, swearing, demon!colby, talk of death/dying, kind of a dark aesthetic, talk of demons, angels, etc. demonic attachment?, compulsion, mentions of police, kissing, hair pulling, choking, biting, scratching, unprotected sex, oral (f rec), filth - please read with care 🖤

With the way I wrote it, the reader is hinted at being bisexual - if you have an issue with that, please just move on. No hate or rude comments will be tolerated,

Word Count: 5.4k | Unedited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

You walked into your apartment, saddened by yet another break up.

You never had issues with dating before. You never had any issues keeping anyone’s attention. But, for the last few months, you’ve been noticing a trend.

You meet a guy, or girl, and it’s going well for the first few days, sometime a few weeks, and then you’re back to square one because you felt like you needed to break things off, or they just said it wasn’t going to work out.

There’s never any clear reasoning either. It’s always the, it’s not you it’s me, I promise, and then you both go your separate ways.

You made your way to your bed, ripping the covers forward so you can climb in and pull them up over your body.

You sniffle, allowing the thoughts to take over completely.

Am I boring? Why does this keep happening? Am I annoying? Do I talk too much? Bad breath? Did I say the wrong thing? Am I not pretty enough? What’s wrong with me?

You let out a sigh, begging for the thoughts to just shut up, and eventually they do, you start to feel more relaxed, and eventually you fall asleep.

—

Colby stood over the woman’s sleeping body for hours, keeping her dreams on the happy side as he manipulates himself into it. He tilts his head, watching you as a small smile spreads across your closed lips.

“Just relax, my love. You’re going to be fine.”

Your phone buzzing in your sweatshirt pocket wakes you up. It takes a few seconds to register what’s happening as you roll over and rub your eyes, but eventually you pull your phone out, “Hello?”

“Where are you right now?” Your closest friend, Brooke, practically yells into the phone, “Are you home?”

You keep your eyes closed, still half a sleep as you mumble, “M’home. Sleeping.”

“Do you have someone there with you?”

Your eyes snap open and you sit up, “What did you just say?” You reach over, turning your bedside lamp on and you look around as she speaks, “I’m going to take that as a no, so just stay where you are. I’m on my way up, I’m going to call the police.”

She hangs up before you can say anything else and you’re left in silence, your heart racing faster at the thought of someone being in your apartment without your knowledge.

A few minutes later, your phone lights up and you instantly answer, “What did they say?”

“They’re sending a unit over, probably a few minutes. I’m unlocking your door now.”

You kick the blankets off, walking over to your door. You look out, watching as Brooke makes her way through and you hang up, “What exactly did you see?”

“Okay, so you know how you can see the parking lot from your bedroom window?”

You nod and she raises her brows, “Well I pulled in, and I seen like this shadow figure behind your curtain, and it was a lot bigger than you would be if you stood there. By the time I went to get a picture or a video, it was gone.”

“How many times did you call me?” You pull your phone up, going to the call log, “I woke up on the third call, but you’d think I’d wake up? I’m a light sleeper.”

“No I know, which is why this is so fucking weird.” She sighs, jumping when there’s a knock on the door, “Police.”

You sigh, “Okay, we’ll just let them do a sweep.” You walk over, opening the door to reveal two officers. The blonde one nods, “We’re here about a possible break in? I’m officer Golbach and this is Officer Webber.”

“Yes, I called. I’m Brooke, this is y/n.”

They walk in and Golbach turns towards you while Webber walks around the space, “What exactly happened?”

“We had plans for a dinner and movie night, so I come over and when I looked up at her apartment, because you can see it from the parking lot, I seen this tall, probably, almost six foot figure in the window.”

“What time was that?” Golbach asks, “Did, ah, it move or anything? Walk away, turn? Anything?” He adds as he writes down what Brooke is saying, “Probably about Seven, seven thirty? And No.” She shakes her head, “It was just standing there still, and when I went to take a picture. It was gone.”

“You’re the one who lives here correct?” He points to you and you nod, “Yes, I do.”

“Okay, and what were you doing while all of this took place?” Golbach asks and Webber comes out of your spare room, “It’s clear. No sign of forced entry on any of the windows by the fire escape.”

“I was asleep.” You state, “I woke up to my phone buzzing in my hoodie pocket.”

“Okay.” He nods and continues jotting stuff down, “Are you a light sleeper?”

You nod, “Yeah, you can ask Brooke. I wake up with the slightest noises. I hate it.” You look over at her, “Did you look at the right window?”

“Did I look- yeah, I know which windows are yours, y/n.” She sighs, “Also, how in the hell are you so calm right now!?”

You didn’t realize it, but you were way calmer than anyone else would probably be in a situation like this, especially with it being your apartment.

But it is weird because you would normally freak out just thinking about something like this happening.

“I don’t know.” You shrug, “I’ve had a day, okay. I-I just got broken up with for no reason, again. I came home after sitting in the parking lot of the convenience store down the street for an hour eating ice cream, and then I came home and went right to sleep.”

You were blowing off steam, and Brooke knew that.

“It doesn’t sound like it, but I have to ask. You don’t think this person should broke up with you would come here, do you?” Golbach raises his brows as you sigh, “No. They seem to not want anything to do with me, so.”

You see Brooke’s face fall, “Y/n.”

“Like I said, there’s no sign of forced entry. Did you lock your door when you got home?”

“It locks automatically each time it closes.”

Webber nods at your words, “You’re staying here tonight, right?” He looks to Brooke and she shrugs, “Do you think it’s safe to stay here, tonight?”

He nods, “I’ll go down and check the cameras in the office, but I’d say you two gal’s will be alright.” He makes his way over to the door, checking the lock, “You didn’t pass anyone on your way up or down the steps did you?”

Brooke shakes her head, “It was just me when I came up.”

“Okay.” Webber leaves and you look back to the blonde officer, “This is my card.” He hands you a white rectangle, “I’ll do a few drive-by’s tonight, I’m on the clock until six a.m., call if you need anything.”

You nod, “Thank you for coming. I appreciate it really.”

He nods, “Not a problem, now I just need a few more things from both of you, and the. We’ll be out of your hair.

You answer the questions, full name, social, date of birth, etc., same with Brooke.

By the time you’re finished, Webber comes back up, “Cameras were clear. There was no one on this floor, even after you got home.”

“Maybe you just got unlucky with a haunted apartment?” Brooke laughs slightly and you roll your eyes, “Yeah, just my fuckin’ luck.”

——

A while after the officers left, you were sitting on the couch, moving on to your third movie when you hear this light whisper.

You look over at Brooke, “Did you say something?”

She looks over at you, shaking her head, “No. I’ve been waiting the tv.” She points with her finger and you nod, “Oh, okay.”

“Why?”

You shake your head, “I thought you said something. It must be on the tv.” You check your phone, letting out a sigh, “I think I’m -“

“No. You’re not going to bed.”

“Why not?” You whine, “I’m tired.”

“No. You’re avoiding talking about what happened with Jace.” Brooke sits up, “I gave you time, now talk.”

You sit up, moving your blanket to cover your legs more, “He said, and I quote, it’s not you, I’m just not feeling like I need a relationship right now, end quote.”

Brooke nods, “And how does that make you feel?”

You laugh slightly, shaking your head. Your mood changes, “I don’t know what happened, Brooke.” You look over at her, “I never had this happen before. It’s like.. the universe is trying to keep me unhappy. Or something I don’t-“

She tilts her head, “I think you need to focus on yourself. Do you really need a boyfriend anyway?”

“It would be nice to not have to come home every night, alone. You at least have Liz, speaking of. Where is she?”

“She got stuck at work, they didn’t have enough people to cover third so she got mandated to stay.” She rolls her eyes, “But anyway. I think you need to take a little you time, focus on whatever it is that you need to focus on, and come back better than ever.”

You nod, chewing on your cheek. After a few minutes of nothing but the tv in the background, you take a deep breath, your voice quiet, “Maybe.. I’m just too fucking complicated for anyone to love.”

“No, y/n. That’s not true.” She moves closer, “not even close.” She turns towards you, “Probably unprofessional on his part, but you should go for officer Golbach.”

“No.” You shake your head, “Wait. Didn’t you just tell me to-“

“Shh, we’re starting over.” She laughs, “I seen the way he cared for you more than he would anyone else.”

“You don’t know that.” You shake your head, your stomach slowly turning at the thought of even thinking of the officer.

“I’m telling you.. fuck what I said before, give it one last try.” She leans in, “He’s an officer, y/n.”

You feel like you could puke, “Stop.”

“What? Does thinking about him ma-“ She stops talking as you rise to your feet, “I’m going to bed. You can stay, but I’m just..” you sigh, “I need to be unconscious for a few hours.”

She raises her hands, “I’ll be out here if you need me.”

You give her a nod, “Sorry I’m ju-“

“You don’t need to apologize, y/n. I overstepped.” She sighs, “You deserve happiness, and I promise we’ll get you to it.”

“Thank you.” You smile and head for your bedroom, stopping when you smell something vaguely familiar - Sandalwood vanilla.

“Do you smell that?” You look back at Brooke and she tilts her head, “Smell what?” You shake your head, “Nothing. Goodnight.”

“Night.” She calls from the couch as you close your door. You stand there for a second before turning around to get into bed.

You let out a sigh as you nestle your head onto the pillow, staring over at the wall that’s lit up by the full moon.

You roll over, staring out the window at the sky, just wishing you’d be able to fall asleep, and your wish was granted.

—

His hand runs through your hair, calming every vibrating nerve in your body, “I’m here, my love.” You kept your eyes closed, letting out a sigh, “I love you.”

Your eyes open, meeting bright blue ones. A deepish voice follows, “I love you. I will go to the deepest depth of hell and back for you.”

His lips press to yours and quickly move down your neck, biting and nipping your skin, which causes you to whimper out.

���Louder, my love. I want you to be louder.”

You comply, moaning out louder when you feel a hand slide down your body to stop between your parted thighs. His fingers drag up and down your folds, fingers circling your desperate opening, “P-please.”

“Please what, my love?” His fingers slowly push in and you gasp-

Awake.

You sit up, looking around as if someone was actually there with you, but maybe it was just a dream, right?

You sigh, getting out of bed to walk out to the living room where Brooke is no where to be found. You furrow your brows, looking around for your phone to see if she texted you.

Liz got off early, heading home. Call me when you wake up.

You scroll down on your notifications and see a text from an unknown number, Just figured I’d check in. Any more disturbances at your place? It’s Sam by the way Golbach, officer Golbach.

You smirk slightly at the obviously nervous, text and click it, Nothing to report, sadly.

You sit down, seeing the bubbles immediately pop up then disappear, Sadly?

You lean back, biting down on your lip as you think about what Brooke said to you, but then you suddenly feel like this is wrong.

Not wrong as in flirting with the law, but wrong in the, I don’t belong to this person, kind of way.

You let out a sigh, “Fuck!” You throw your phone over your shoulder, absolutely sick of feeling like you… well, you didn’t know how you felt, exactly, but your interest changes when you don’t hear the clatter of it hitting the floor.

“You shouldn’t throw things that are important.”

You stand up, whipping around as you immediately start backing away. Your voice is gone, banished with fear as the figure that spoke walks towards you, phone in his beautiful, ring clad hand.

His voice rings in your head without him moving his lips, “You know me. I’m not going to hurt you, my love.”

“W-who-“

“We’ll get to that. But right now, I’m going to need you to tell Sam, that you’re a little busy right now.” He speaks and hands you back your phone.

A chill goes down your spine as your fingers brush against his to take it, and you begin typing, I’m a little busy right now.

“Good girl.” The man speaks, reaching up to run his thumb over your bottom lip, “I have been waiting ever so patiently to meet you.”

“Who are you?” Your voice is low, but you don’t shy away from his touch as his fingers gently brush over your cheek to push hair behind your ear, “I’m just Colby to you.”

“Colby.” You repeat and his hand pulls you closer to him, “Yes. You know me.”

“How.” You furrow your brows and he gives you as second to think, but you shake your head, “I don’t-“

Colby reaches up, cupping your cheeks with his hands as he stares into your eyes, “Think.”

Suddenly, Colby floods your brain with all the times you’ve seen him.

You’re sitting on the beach, fishnets ripped and a cigarette between your fingers. You turn your head slightly at the sound of a voice, “You know, there’s no smoking on the beach, right?” You scoff, watching the ashes fly down to kiss the sand, “What are you, beach patrol?” You laugh slightly and stop when he moves to sit next to you, “Beach patrol would be a lot easier for you to believe, my love.”

—

“I’m actually meeting somebody, so I’ll just take a wine while I wait.” You smile at the bartender and she nods, “One red, coming up.” You let out a sigh as you look around, waiting for Seth to appear. After some time, you decide to text him, but to your surprise, he’s not coming.

“This seat taken?”

You look up, smiling at Colby, “Actually.. no.”

—

“What do you mean that it isn’t me? That is the most..” you scoff, “Just tell me. Did you find someone better? Am I.. am I.. fuck, Nathan, just-“

“I just don’t feel anything anymore. I don’t know what more you want. I would love to like you, but I just.. we aren’t compatible, y/n. I’m sorry.”

You watch as Nathan leaves your apartment, tears falling as soon as the door shuts. You walk over to your window, jumping back with a loud gasp as a crow lands on the sill, but you suddenly felt better.

—

“Those were only a few times, I’ve been around a while.” Colby’s hand slides back, his palm flat on your cheek, “Are you scared?”

You stare up at him, “I.. don’t even know what’s real anymore.” You shake your head, “You’re not..”

“Go on, my love. Say it.”

“Why don’t I remember ever seeing you?” You ask but Colby makes you look at him, “One thing at a time, sweetheart. Please.”

It takes you a few seconds to even muster up the means to allow the words to roll off your tongue, “You’re not human.. but-“ you slide your hand up his arm, “You feel human.”

Click.

“Wait. You.. you were there after every breakup I had.” You step back, “Nathan, Seth, Taylor, Francesca, I-“ you bring your hand up to lay on your forehead, breathing heavy as you feel like you are about to pass out, “The crow.. I-“

“Shh, hey.” Colby moves to you, wrapping his arms around your body as your head rests on his chest.

You feel calm.

Like this is where you belong.

“Do you remember what I told you in your dream yesterday afternoon?” Colby asks, “I told you that you’re going to be just fine.”

He tilts your chin up, “I mean that.”

A knock on your door causes you to jump, and Colby’s grip tightens, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Y/n, it’s officer Golbach. Just doing a check in.”

“I can g-“

“No, I’ll handle this.” Colby walks you over to the couch, “Sit.” You plop down, watching as he walks over to the door and opens it.

Sam doesn’t say anything, he just stares at Colby, nodding his head, but you don’t hear anything. Sam turns and walks away, leaving without any kind of fuss.

“What did-“

“I just told him that he needed to come back at another time.” Colby walks over and sits next to you, “I need your full attention, my love.”

“You can make me do anything, can’t you?” You keep your stare on him, “Is that what yo-“

“No. Y/n, okay. The only thing that I have made you do, is text officer dingdong, and break up with that asshole loser, who we both know would have only ruined your life.”

You raise your brows, knowing he was talking about Mitchel, who now has a bad rap with things you didn’t need, “Yeah. Thanks for that one I guess.”

“Oh, and your dreams. But other than those three things, my focus is on keeping you for myself.”

“Why me?”

“What do you mean by, why me? Look at yourself, y/n. You are beautiful.” He moves closer and shift towards you, “I would never make you do anything you wouldn’t ever want to do.”

“My dreams.. you.. last night..” you swallow as you think about the sex dream with him, and he nods, “There’s others.. but I figured I’d just give you the less detailed one to test the waters, you know?”

“But why?” You stand up and Colby reaches for you but you turn, walking away, only for him to appear right in front of you, “Don’t shy away from me.”

You step back, looking up at him, “None of this, is making any sense to me, Colby.”

“Because I love you.”

“You don’t e-“

“Yes I do, y/n. I know you more than you know yourself. Considering I’m a demon and all, I know that there are devilish thoughts in the minds of the most angelic, and y/n..” he steps towards you, his hands moving to your cheeks, “I know that you have some wicked desires..”

His eyes move from your lips to your eyes, “So, let me ruin you.”

“Colby I-“ You shake your head, “Can you just.. I don’t know what you do, but just.. I need a second.”

He nods and by the time you blink, he’s gone with a slight feeling of regret settling in your stomach, but you push it away as you sit back down, face in your hands as you try and figure out what exactly it is you need to figure out.

——

Colby was gone for a two or so. You were on edge, trying to figure out if he was in your apartment or not, in the walls. In your head.

You were jumpy, nervous, but above all, turned on.

Evil, above all, is truly seductive, and you found yourself missing a part of Colby, but then again, you were also second guessing everything you thought, felt, or heard.

“Am I able to see you?”

You look around, letting out a sigh, “Yes.”

Colby sits down next to you, “How do you feel?”

“Don’t you already know?” You avoid looking at him, but you feel like you need to, so you do. His eye lock with yours and he takes a small inhale, “I need..”

He stops and you turn towards him, “Colby?”

“You’re going to freak out. I can already see it.” He laughs weakly, “I’m in line to rule the underworld, but I can’t do that if I-“

“No.” You instantly stand up, backing away from him, “I don’t-“ you feel tears in your eyes, “I don’t want to die.”

He’s instantly behind you, arms around your body and that calm feeling settles in, but it’s only for a moment and you push him away, “No. no. No.”

Colby stands there, eyes on you as you pace, “Why? Why me? Out of all the people in the world, you just had to come and fuck up my life?”

He remains silent as you continue your ranting, “I have so much to live for. I can’t just- what would I tell my parents my best friend, I-“ you stop, taking a deep breath, “Can’t it be anyone else?”

You look up at him and he shakes his head, “I’ve already left my mark on you.”

“Mark? On me?” Your hands start to feel your own body but Colby walks over, “Not a physical mark, sweetheart. The others just know to leave you alone.”

“There’s others?” You scoff, “Of course there is.”

“Y/n, my love.”

“Why do you call me that? Seriously, I just..” you shake your head, covering your hands as you groan into them.

There was this strange entity standing in your living room, a stranger. But in reality, you knew him just as well as he knew you, you just needed a slight nudge to know that.

“I chose you because you’re just so..” he presses his lips together, gently reaching up to brush your hair from your face, “You.”

“Yeah because that explains it.” You roll your eyes and Colby clenches his jaw, “You know me. I know you. Say the word and I’ll prove it.”

“Prove it.” You shrug and he nods, taking your cheeks between his hands as rests his forehead against yours, “Close your eyes.”

You close your eyes and the memory of you and Colby at dinner one night replays in your mind.

He shows you sitting across from Colby at The Whiskey Well, having dinner and talking about anything and everything. That eventually led into Colby telling you about his, what you didn’t know at the time, human life.

You swore you fell in love that night.

“Did you?” Colby asks as he moves his head back slightly.

“Did I what?” You ask, knowing damn well why he asked. He tilts his head and you nod, “Yeah, but then you made me forget, so what’s it matter?”

“It matters because I need you.”

“Well I don’t need you, so..” you step back, “How do I break this.. I don’t even know, curse?”

“I’m not here to make your life hell, y/n.”

“That seems to be exactly what you’re doing, Colby.” You chew on your cheek, “Did you mess with my dreams again while you were-“ you air quote, “Gone?”

He shrugs, “Only the second night. The rest was you.”

You couldn’t lie, going from knowing that he’s always been there, to knowing he wasn’t there at all, hurt. It felt like a piece of you was missing, like you lost your security blanket or something.

“I’m not here to hurt you, unless you want me to.” A smirk twitches on his lips and you shake your head. Colby scoffs, “You may look like an angel, but I know that there’s a fire deep inside that pretty little body of yours.”

His words caused a chill of excitement to shimmy down your spine, “You know.. I thought for so long that the universe was so ugly for being against me..”

Colby tilts his head and you lock eyes, “But in reality it’s a gorgeous looking demon with a bit of an obsession problem.”

He cocks his jaw, nodding his head as he chuckles, “I mean what can I say? You’re the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on.”

You smile, looking down as your mind begins to race again. Colby walks over, lifting your chin, “Don’t do that to yourself. If you want answers, ask.”

You take a deep breath in through your nose, “I hate this. I hate the thought of having to lea-“ you stop, taking in a shaky breath.

“There’s ways around it, y/n.”

“I hate this. I hate even thinking about it.” You avoid looking at him, mainly because there’s more to it, and you know he’d get you to say it regardless.

“I just hate..” you look up, “That I fell in love with the way you touched me, without even using your hands.”

He licks his lips, smirking as he tilts his head, “So what? Are you saying yes?”

You chew on your lip, swallowing before you take a breath, “I need to know what it feels like when you do actually touch me.”

You walk over to him, hands sliding up his chest, “Are you controlling me?”

He shakes his head as his hands slide to your hips, “This is all you, my love.” He pulls you in, lips on yours and you instantly need more. You fist his shirt, pulling him closer as you whimper, “Please.”

“You have the control now, baby.” Colby whispers, lips trailing down your neck, “As I said, I will go to the deepest depths of hell to make you happy. I will be your sickening desire. I am yours, and you are mine.”

His words are low as he bites down on your skin, “Mine.”

He lifts you up, arm around your waist as his lips find yours, “Mine.”

He takes you to your bedroom, laying you down on the bed, “Whatever you want. Whatever you need.” He whispers, pushing up your shirt so he can kiss your stomach, “I’ll get it for you.”

“I-I-“ you gasp as he pulls down your sweats, “no more making me do anything.”

He nods as he looks up at you, “Anything you want, baby.” He kisses back up your body, “I promise. You’re the only body I need. Your souls was meant to be mine.”

He moves his way in between your legs, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to get my hands on you.”

“How are you real?” Your hands slide up his shoulders and rest against his neck, “Like I-“

“This is the body I died with, but trust and believe I can be anything I want to be.” Colby leans back, his eyes staring into yours, “But I just want to be everything you want and need.” His lips are on yours again, “Every inch of my darkened being aches for you.”

You whimper, hooking your legs around his waist, “I want to feel you. I need to feel you.”

He nods as he stands up, “Undress for me.”

Your eyes are on each other as you finish taking off the rest of your clothes, “You’ve seen me before, haven’t you?”

He nods, “But it still doesn’t compare to this moment right here.” He moves onto you, hips resting between your thighs as he slowly guides his cock into you without warning.

You gasp, throwing your head back as your nails dig into his shoulders and chest, “Fuck, fuck.” You moan loudly, chest rising and falling quickly as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate his cock, “Fuck you feel so good.”

“Words can’t even explain how you’re making me feel right now, baby.” Colby groans lowly, his hand sliding up to cup your throat.

You play your hand on his, urging him to squeeze, “You know me well enough. Just do it.”

His eyes darken and his thrusts are instantly punishing, ripping loud moans and pleasured screams before his hand cuts off all sound from your throat, “You sound even prettier than you look, my love.”

He groans, sliding a hand down to grip the outside of your thigh, “Do you like that?”

He looses a his grip just enough for a slight, “yes” to squeak out and he smirks, “Of course you do.” His lips crash onto yours and he groans into your mouth, “I fucking love you.”

Your back arches as he keeps your neck pinned to the bed, your cheeks start to heat up and you feel the tingling settling in as your vision starts to fade out, but all you focused on was Colby.

He lets go and you gasp out, “I love you.”

He stops, staring down at you, “You mean that.”

You nod and he shakes his head, “No, I mean. I can feel how much you mean that.” His thrusts resume, but they’re slower, “Fuck, you’re going to make the best Queen.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you’re not scared.

“I trust you.” You swallow, pulling him in to kiss, “This feels right.”

“I promise. I will take care of you.” Colby shakes his head, “Fuck, you’re the most important thing to me. The best thing I’ve ever got to touch, smell, taste.”

He pulls out, quickly moving down your body to throw your legs over his shoulders. His tongue immediately pushes between your folds and your hand flies to the back of his head, “Colby!”

He groans against you, gripping your hips roughly as he pins you down.

Your vision goes blurry as you arch your back, coming undone quickly with just the tip of his tongue, “f-fuck, fuckfuckfuck!”

“That’s it baby. Let it all go.”

Colby’s tongue guides you through your high, collecting every drop of your precious arousal before he kisses back up your body, “So fucking delicious.”

He pulls you on top of him, rolling onto his back as you straddling his waist to sink back down onto his cock with a loud moan.

You knew you were going to be littered with fingertip shape bruised, but that made everything hotter.

“That’s it.” Colby breathes out, “Fuck, just like that, my love. Look at you.” His eyes scan up your body to meet yours.

His hands slide up and down your thighs as you bounce, moaning louder and louder as you feel yourself coming closer to another orgasm.

Colby interlocks his hands with yours, bucking his hips upward and you squeeze his hands to hold yourself steady, “S-so close. Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

You throw your head back, screaming out as you feel yourself cum once more. Colby let’s go of your hands, sitting up to lay you back. His thrusts resume, guiding you through your high.

His thrusts come to a slow stop and he pulls out before laying next to you, “Brooke is going to be here any second.”

“She didn’t tell me she was-“

“Y/n? You home?”

You look over at Colby and let out a sigh before answering her, “Be out in a second.”

“Hurry up! I have to tell you something!” She yells back and you look at Colby, “You’ll come back right?”

“My love, I never leave.”

——

Thank you so much for being patient. I hope this is up to par and as always, I love you, and I will see you in the next one! 🖤🖤🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[phillydilly]

Whispers of love

⊹♡— In which y/n sees the ‘Beckham trend’ on TikTok and decides to test her boyfriend, Charles.

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Authors note: I’ve had this one in my drafts for a while but wasn’t sure if I liked it or not, but I thought today I might as well post it before I overthink it even more. It’s a very short one but I hope you like it regardless! On another note, Charles was so close to winning in Vegas I’m disappointed but also so proud of his drive he was absolutely incredible on track throughout the entire weekend, it’s a shame that safety car came in when it did.

Y/n couldn't shake off the excitement after watching the Beckham documentary. The scene of David and Victoria dancing together had left a lasting impression on her. Intrigued by the idea, she decided to test Charles, her boyfriend, in a similar fashion. Setting up her phone to discreetly record, she played "Islands in the Stream" by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers, hoping to recreate the magic.

As the music filled the kitchen, Y/n began to sway to the rhythm, trying to channel the effortless chemistry she had witnessed on screen. Lost in the melody, she couldn't help but smile, anticipating Charles' reaction.

Y/n, immersed in the music, gracefully moved around the kitchen, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the sweet melody of. Unbeknownst to her, Charles had quietly entered the room. He leaned against the doorway, captivated by the sight of Y/n dancing with such joy and abandon.

For a couple of minutes, Charles simply watched, a soft smile playing on his lips. The love he felt for Y/n swelled within him as he observed her moves, completely lost in the music. The room seemed to be filled with an unspoken connection, the kind that words couldn't capture.

Y/n twirled, catching a glimpse of Charles out of the corner of her eye. She continued to dance, her heart fluttering with the knowledge that he was witnessing this spontaneous moment.

Charles, overcome with affection, stepped away from the doorway and silently made his way toward Y/n. He wrapped his arms around her, his chest against her back, joining her in the dance without saying a word. The embrace was tender, filled with unspoken emotions.

Y/n, feeling his presence, leaned back into Charles, a smile spreading across her face. The dance became a silent conversation, a language only they understood. The music played on, and their movements synchronized, creating a dance of love and connection.

The minutes passed, but time seemed to stand still in that quiet kitchen. Charles pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Y/n's forehead, expressing everything he felt without uttering a single word. They swayed together, surrounded by the warmth of the music and the love that enveloped them.

Lost in the rhythm of their impromptu dance, Y/n and Charles swayed together, wrapped in the soft embrace of the music. In a moment of quiet connection, Charles whispered, "I love you," and Y/n's smile widened so much that she couldn't resist turning around to face him. Her arms flung over his shoulders, and Charles, overwhelmed with affection, kissed her all over her face, savoring the joy reflected in her radiant expression. When their lips finally met, the kiss held the warmth of shared laughter and unspoken love. As they pulled apart, Y/n mirrored Charles's earlier sentiment, whispering, "I love you too," sealing the moment with a shared smile that spoke volumes about the depth of their connection.

[chrisevansonly]

𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬 𝐄́𝐭𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐚 | 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

ʚ charles leclerc x female reader

ʚ there is nothing your daughter loves more than the stars, charles makes sure she gets to see them every night

ʚ no warnings, just very sweet dad!charles and fluffy:)

ʚ i feel like this might be sloppy but here is a little dad!charles blurb, im in a writing mood so you might see a few things come out soon<3

“Papa, regarde combien d'étoiles!!”

Charles smiled at the excitement behind his daughter Alia’s voice, she absolutely loved the stars. Every night he would set up your balcony with blankets and pillows, making it perfect for you and your daughter to stargaze.

“Oui mon petit ange, c’est très beau”

You looked over at the two of them, Alia was resting her head on Charles’s chest, her eyes watching the sky as she pointed to different constellations

“Maman are you looking too?” Alia smiled, sending you a glance

“Of course I am baby, there are lots of starts tonight aren’t there?”

“Yes!! Do you see the big dipper?”

Charles laughed, he never understood how she got so good with the constellations in the sky

“No, show me love”

Alia was quick to move over to where you were within the mountain of blankets, giving Charles the opportunity to scoot closer to you so the three of you could cuddle up together

“Okay maman regarde ça”

She pointed a little finger into the sky, pointing out a series of stars before settling on the big dipper

“Tu vois, ça ressemble à une cuillère, c'est comme ça que tu sais”

“Oui, je vois bébé”

Your french wasn’t totally fluent yet, but Alia and Charles spoke mostly in french which helped you as well to get better with the language. Though your husband did remind your little girl sometimes to speak in english to you, just to give your brain a little break.

Even though you never complained.

“Quel est ton préfère?”

“Um….”

Alia thought about it for a second, her head resting in her hands

“Cass-uh cassei-papa je besoin d’aide…”

Charles smiled kissing her cheek softly

“Cassiopeia, c’est celui la n’est ce-pas bébé?”

“Oui!! C’est ça papa!!”

A smile spread on your face watching the excitement fill her eyes as her father had helped her figure out the name of the constellation. It truly was moments like these that were your favourite, watching Alia begin to talk more about the stars, her eyes never leaving the sky, even as you leaned over and pressed a kiss to Charles’s cheek.

“You are the world’s best dad..thank you for making her so happy”

You watched as a blush spread on his cheeks before he placed his lips on yours, kissing you softly

“You two are my whole world, I love you more than you know”

“We love you too, so much my love”

There really wasn’t anywhere else in the world you’d rather be than right here, cuddled up amongst the blankets listening to your baby girl spew all her knowledge on the stars. She was yours and Charles’s whole universe, no amount of starts or constellations could ever equate to the love you both had for her.

Alia truly was the greatest gift to happen to your family and no night sky, would ever beat that.

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

girl dad Raphael ends my life

Read on AO3

-

He's not unaware of the intense gaze on him. He's ignoring it until his little admirer decides what she wants to say. She's patient, he'll give her that, but in the end she's a child and he has lived for nearly two millenia. He will outlast her. He will -

"You are staring, daughter."

Or not. His blasted curiosity gets the better of him. He has folded his hand in this silent game. He has been bested by this beast of his own creation, and from the way she giggles, she knows it.

"Yes I am, father," she admits, brazen as a bull.

"Would you care to tell me why?"

The creature's mother, lounging on a chaise across the room, hides a smile behind the pages of the novel she's reading. Clearly she finds this amusing. Later, he swears, he will show her something he finds amusing.

"Well, I was just thinking..." says the child, resting her chin on her hands. It still shocks him how small they are. Even fully spread, her fingers don't cover the span of his own palms. Looking at her hands stirs his protective instincts, fatherly instincts he didn't believe he possessed until she came crashing into his life. "Your horns are really nice and pretty but I think they would look even nicer if I put some gems and ribbons on them."

His wife disguises her laughter as a cough. Wretch. He raises a brow at his daughter, otherwise keeping his face neutral as possible.

"My horns are pretty, you say?"

She nods emphatically, kicking her feet. "Yep! They're so big and spirally and spikey. I hope mine look like that when I grow up."

He bites his forked tongue to stem the flow of pride and happiness he experiences. Despite his verbose inclinations, his knowledge of a hundred languages both young and old, he can't describe what it's like to be given such free and unconditional love like that; true to his nature, he hoards it greedily, adding to the ever-growing list in the recesses of his rotten soul of the terrible things he would do to keep this child safe and happy. He is the apple of her eye, and he will raze the Hells themselves to stay that way. Of course, she doesn't need to know any of this, not yet, so instead he fixes her with a placid look and says:

"So, what do we do when we have a theory?"

"Test it!" She shrieks, delighted, and hops off her seat to run to her room and grab her things.

"No running in the house!" He barks after her. There shan't be a repeat of the great statue-collapsing-incident, thank you very much. Tav's expression when she looks at him warms the coals of desire in his belly. He leans back in his seat and preens. When his daughter returns, her arms full of jewellery and ribbons (of course he spoils her; no child of his will want for anything) he lets her - just this once, mind - sit on his desk, obediently lowering his head so she can decorate his crown of horns as she sees fit.

Her theory, in his opinion, is proven correct: he looks fantastic.

[lizziesribbons]

Always and Forever |

PAIRING: MILF WANDA MAXIMOFF X FEM! READER

summary: you and Wanda share a vulnerable moment then cry and fall asleep 😔‼️

warnings: ****MINORS DNI***** *****MEN DNI***** fluff so much fluff 🥺 I'm going so aahwhwhwh, sexual themes no smut but still it's 18+ so get out if you're a minor. my sad little milf 😔, abandonment issues mentioned!!!, Wanda crying makes my heart hurt, oral fixation and titty sucking but not in a sexual way iykwim???

author's note: author is a gay in love please bare with her, just reminding you guys that my first language is not English so if there's any grammatical errors PLEASE IGNORE THEM AND MOVE TF ON.

Word count: 1.4k

Wanda stirs awake as she sees you turning over and over again moving the whole bed "y/n sweetheart what's bothering you, you just can't seem to fall asleep" she asks with her raspy sleepy voice "it's 3am darling what's up?" she asks again, you finally sat up letting out a loud sign "i- I can't go to sleep I TRIED EVERYTHING LIKE EVERYTHING"

Wanda furrows her eyebrows in worry, "oh baby I'm sorry can mommy help?" she sat beside you resting her back on the headboard like you were now, "yes there's- I um- can I suckle on your tits it just it helped me fell asleep before and I just didn't want to wake you up-" Wanda shushes you as you continue to yap

her heart swells with affection as she hears your request, recognizing the emotional significance behind it. Without hesitation, she pulls her shirt up to expose her breasts and guides you towards them. "Of course, my love." Her voice is soft and soothing, filled with understanding and tenderness. "lean in whenever you need to find comfort or fall asleep easily. Remember that I am always here for you - both physically and emotionally. And if there are any other aspects of your desires or needs that come up, please don't hesitate to share them with me too okay baby?" she say softly as you immediately latch onto them mumbling a "I love them sm", as they brought you the comfort you were looking for. Wanda smiles warmly at your declaration of love for her breasts, feeling a surge of affection in return. As she feels the gentle suction against her skin, she runs her fingers through your hair softly, providing additional comfort and support. "thank you for sharing this part of yourself with me." Her voice low and husky, filled with emotion, you smile warmly against her breast, kissing them softly as you continue sucking. Wanda chuckles softly at your endearment, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She continues to stroke your hair gently as they remain locked in this tender embrace. her tone is loving and nurturing, reflecting the maternal instinct that seems to naturally arise when fulfilling your need. "I am here for you - always ready to provide comfort and support whenever you need it." she says gently caressing your hairs.

you suddenly pull her tit out of your mouth "tell me about your special interest, can be sexual or non sexual?" you ask with a straight face letting her know you were being serious.Wanda, taken slightly by surprise but quickly regaining her composure, looks down at you with a mix of curiosity and understanding. Recognizing the importance of transparency in y'all's relationship, she begins to speak openly about her own desires and interests."Well, aside from what we've been experiencing together lately, I do have a few other things that might interest you. Like my affinity for sensory play - using various textures, temperatures, and scents to stimulate different senses during intimate moments. She pauses momentarily before continuing more softly, "As far as non-sexual interests go... well, I'm quite fond of cooking elaborate meals for those close to me." you smile softly at her "I know you love to cook it's your favorite thing I also know that you love gardening" wanda's smile widen at your knowledge, as you continue you softly massage her breast all of it coming naturally "tell me something no one knows" you ask with curiosity

Wanda closes her eyes briefly, relishing the soft touch of your hands on her body. When she opens them again, there's a hint of vulnerability in her gaze as she decides to share something deeply personal with her partner, with you. "There is indeed another side of me that most people don't know about - one that even I struggle to understand sometimes. It involves an intense longing for connection and belonging, coupled with a fear of abandonment rooted in my tumultuous past." She takes a deep breath before continuing, "This has led me to become fiercely protective over those closest to me, especially my loved ones back home who mean everything to me. Sometimes this manifests itself in unhealthy ways, such as trying too hard to control situations or pushing others away out of self-preservation." you rub her shaky hands as she confess something this vulnerable "I would never ever leave you wands I hope you know that, I'm always gonna stick by your side" you whisper softly, Wanda's eyes glisten with unshed tears as she hears your reassurance. She swallows hard, trying to maintain her composure while acknowledging the depth of their connection. "Thank you, sweetheart." you smile at her, her voice trembles slightly, betraying the raw emotions bubbling beneath the surface "Your words mean more to me than you could possibly imagine" she tries to fight back the tears "you can cry wands you know it's only me here, you don't have to act all tough with me just fall back and I'll carry you" you say with honesty, so she did, she slowly nods as she allows herself to surrender to the overwhelming emotions coursing through her. With a shaky sigh, tears begin streaming down her cheeks.

"It feels so good to finally let go..." She whispers hoarsely, wiping away the tears with trembling fingers "Thank you for being here for me, y/n. Your presence is truly healing" you kiss her breast one more time and hug her body tightly "oh Wanda.. of course I'm here I'm always gonna be here." Wanda wraps her arms around you, holding onto you tightly as she continues to sob quietly. The warmth and comfort of your embrace bring a sense of peace that gradually calms her turbulent emotions, "Thank you, my love..." She murmurs against your hairs, feeling grateful for the unwavering sense of comfort they provide. "always and forever remember?" you mumble softly as she smiles weakly through her tears, knowing full well that you means every word you say. Your commitment to each other runs deep, providing a solid foundation upon which their relationship thrives. "yes, always and forever..." she echoes softly, leaning into the embrace even more as she begins to regain her composure "Thank you for being my rock when I need it most" she holds you tighter, "you're my favorite person ever wands and I love you so much" you softly confess, her heart swells with love and affection as she hears your heartfelt declaration. She gently cups your face, gazing into your eyes with tenderness and devotion. "And you are mine, my darling." a soft smile graces her lips before she leans in to press a loving kiss against your forehead. "I am so incredibly lucky to have found someone like you - someone who understands me better than anyone else ever could." you kiss wanda's lips softly and slowly before hiding your face in the crook of her where you feel the most safe "thankyou for everything" you mumble against her neck, As she feels your warm breath against her neck, she can't help but feel a profound sense of contentment wash over her. "You don't need to thank me, my love..." She whispers reassuringly, stroking your hair as you seek comfort in her embrace. "We are here for each other - always and forever. That's what matters most." you smile softly against her neck starting to feel sleepy you mumble a soft "goodnight", Wanda cradles your head gently, relishing the sweet sound of your voice as you bid her goodnight. With a warm smile on her face, she responds "Goodnight, my love..." She whispers back, closing her eyes and letting herself drift off to sleep alongside you, secure in the knowledge that you both are together and safe.

[flowerandblood]

The Man in the Black Gloves

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: public sex, fingering, smut, angst, threats, sexual tension, domination, violence, mention of the murder ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 1 - The Man with the Black Mask | Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 3 - The Man with the Lost Soul | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Mouth | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 11 - The Man in the Death Cloak | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair | Part 13 - The Man with the Fiery Gaze

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Although the thought of marriage and motherhood had terrified her before her father's death, now, being married at last and hoping to become the mother of her husband-king's children, she understood that it was all just a matter of the person she was to spend her life with.

Her husband, though terrifying and cruel, understood his duty as a husband and as a lover and fulfilled them to the best of his ability. She did not expect sweet words or confessions from him, knowing that they were not in his nature, however, he showed his affection to her in a different way.

Through his actions.

When that insolent woman dared to suggest that she become her husband's mistress in the future, that she would bear his child, she felt disbelief and a sense of betrayal spill over her insides.

She clenched her lips, trying with all her might to hold back the tears of humiliation that appeared under her eyelids.

How dare she?

"Hold her." She heard her husband's cold voice and saw him stand from his throne with a sudden, impatient movement.

"− give me your sword −" He said to Ser Criston in an unobjectionable voice − his guards grabbed the woman under her arms and forced her to kneel before them. She noticed with satisfaction that there was no longer a trace of the certainty of a moment ago on her face.

Her husband was unpredictable, burning like a fire that could not be tamed.

Anyone who tried was doomed to burn.

She listened to her desperate explanations with her lips clenched, pale, begging in her mind that her husband would not change his mind, that he would not let her go after what she had said, allowing her to leave a scar in her heart forever.

The thought that one day they would meet again without her knowledge and her prediction would come true.

A great uproar spread around them, people shouting at each other, until suddenly a blade swished swiftly in front of her − the woman who had just stood before them was deprived of her head, which rolled down the stairs to the stone floor with a thud.

"Her every breath would be an insult to my Queen. Let this be a lesson to anyone who tries to plot against her. Guards, lock Lord Ronwell in the dungeons until she decides what to do with him." He said lowly, with some kind of regret towards himself for allowing such a situation to happen.

He looked at her with a calmness in his eye, a conviction that he had done the right thing, that whatever this woman had predicted would never come true.

Once again, he made her feel an overwhelming sense of relief, like when she saw her mother and learned that she was alive.

She thought, looking at him with parted lips, feeling sweet throbbing between her thighs, that she would give him everything, would drown with him in her blood, would not let him carry the burden of this sin alone.

He did it for her.

Never before had she come as hard as she had that evening, feeling the tart taste of blood in her mouth as he slammed into her with quick, brutal thrusts of his hips, stretching her weeping cunt with his fat, swollen cock, aroused as much as she was.

She couldn't even remember when she reached her peak, feeling that she almost screamed with pleasure along with him.

She sighed quietly as she felt his hot seed finally spill inside her, feeling only fulfilment, only peace.

"− good gods − are you all right? −" He asked uncertainly, horrified surely as she was at how brutal and sacrilegious this closeness was.

She felt ashamed at the thought that she hadn't been this relaxed in a long time.

She heard him sigh out loud as she nodded her head, his large, rough hand stroking lightly her soft buttock.

"Let's take a bath." He suggested and she nodded again, completely without strength.

They undressed slowly when they were left alone with the steaming tub filled with pleasantly warm water. She dipped her feet into it first and then sat between his legs, resting her wet back against his chest, laying her head on his shoulder. She heard him hum quietly, feeling his fingers combing through her hair in a tender gesture.

They lay like this in silence, calming down at last, fingertips of his free hand trailing thoughtfully over her bare body making her feel goosebumps.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked her suddenly, startling her completely − his voice quiet and uncertain, on the verge of a whisper.

She lifted her face higher, twisting with a quiet splash of water, wanting to look at him, raising her fingers to his cheek and running them over his skin.

"No." She replied softly, warmly, his hand combing through her hair with a light, musing gesture.

"I tried to kill you." He said lowly, as if merely stating a fact that he felt should concern her.

"Then why am I still alive?" She asked tracing her fingers along his chin, cupping her nose against his cheek. She heard him snort under his breath.

She didn't have to look at him to know that an amused grin was painted on his face.

She felt his hand trace a circle over her lower abdomen, massaging her warm skin under the water, knowing that all he was thinking now was the fact that she was filled with his spend.

Neither of them said anything more.

They conveyed most of the things to each other without words. She felt that he was able to express more with his hands than with his mouth, his fingers combing through her hair, stroking her naked body at night showing her what he felt, what he desired.

They both knew how empty and worthless words could be.

After what had happened to Alys Rivers, no woman dared to even attempt to come close to her husband anymore. She decided to show mercy to the lord who had brought her before them and was plotting against her, knowing that if her husband killed him, his whole family would turn against him.

She knew that the whole court had witnessed what would befall those who would try to come between them.

She found with amusement that they did not understand where their attachment and affection came from, thinking that it had a purely physical undertone that could always pass when someone more beautiful or more tempting appeared on the horizon.

Their marriage, however, was primarily based on how deeply they were bonded by their pasts, how they experienced things similarly, sunk in darkness, coming out at night to haunt the castle's inhabitants like ghosts.

She had the impression that there was a disturbing aura around them, that people feared them not only because of their power, but also because of that hint of madness they saw in their eyes.

After a time of war and unrest, her husband's lords advised him to take advantage of the fact that the new year was approaching, to use the date as a break from the past and to allow celebrations in the fortress as well as throughout the kingdom.

"Do you think it's appropriate? To hold a carnival and balls for chattels and drunkard lords?" He asked, sitting stretched out in his chair, obviously unconvinced by the idea, yet realising that his cool nature may have overlooked some of his subjects' needs, which did not mean that they were not important.

"The people have at last regained their King, peace has prevailed. Even though you won't do it, they want to move on and forget what happened eight years ago, begin again. Let them enjoy themselves, give them a day full of wine, bread and dances, let them decorate their town and enjoy themselves as they wish." She said softly, looking at him with a gentle gaze. He sighed heavily, massaging his forehead with his hand.

"Am I supposed to sit for hours behind a table and watch them make fools of themselves?" He asked impatiently, and she pressed her lips together, approaching him slowly with the quiet rustling of her gown.

"Arrange for it to be a masked ball. Let's blend in with the crowd. Don't we also have reason to celebrate, my husband?"

To her surprise, after much thought, he agreed to her proposal. His lords accepted his decision with relief, themselves apparently looking for an opportunity at long last to get out of the stress and sacrifice they had put in to help him regain his throne.

None of them told each other what they would wear or when they would appear in the throne room, recognising that it would spoil everything. She ordered that a matte, soft black gown be prepared for her, with a cut neckline with exposed shoulders and back, bold and unworthy of a queen or true lady.

She wore a black mask over her face, sheathed in a material identical to that of her gown, her dark hair loose. She did not put on any jewellery − she liked the simplicity and at the same time shamelessness of this attire.

She thought that this night she was not a Queen, she was not a lady but a shadow, a phantom, a mist, something intangible, something she had always wanted to be.

As she left her chamber she was immediately struck by the sounds of violin and flute music, loud conversations and laughter. She turned into the corridor and noticed hundreds of people discussing with each other, each of them disguised, masks over their faces.

She noted with satisfaction that no one bowed to her, that no one paid any attention to her, that she was like air.

She felt a sudden rush of adrenaline, a sense of empowerment and impunity at the same time.

She stepped into the main hall, which was the throne room, looking at the couples dancing in the centre of it − lovers for just one night pressed their bodies close to the walls, enjoying the time they were given as best they could, knowing that tomorrow they would have to return to their husbands and wives.

They all had goblets filled to the brim with wine − she could smell the roasts, soups and breads from the tables around her.

It seemed to her that she had joined some temple of promiscuity and splendour, her heart pounding like mad.

She walked unhurriedly among the crowds of people, gazing intently at their fanciful costumes, eavesdropping on their conversations, listening with amusement as the apparent anonymity gave the court's inhabitants the courage to speak their minds about her and her husband.

"I once passed by our King's chambers at night. There were such noises coming from it that I thought they were both dying in agony." Said a woman with light hair pinned up in a bun, her mask and gown blue, adorned with gold threads.

"She is a witch. As a traitor's daughter, she certainly has her ways of deceiving the King's mind." The other woman, younger, replied − she seemed to recognise in her the daughter of one of the lords who had strenuously tried for weeks to stumble upon her husband in the crown's library, wishing to seduce him.

"They are both mad." She hummed to them with amusement, and saw that they looked at her, trying in the semi-darkness to recognise who she might have been, but she did not let them stare at her and moved on, looking thoughtfully at the dancing pairs.

She was surprised to hear someone moaning behind her, and spotted a couple who were clearly just having a rapture with each other − both of them pressed up against the wall, hidden in the shadows, apparently hoping that no one would interrupt their obviously wonderful delight.

She smiled under her breath, turning her face away − she felt a throbbing between her thighs at the thought that her husband might take her in the same way this evening, in front of everyone.

She almost laughed at the thought that perhaps these prudish ladies would recognise them and their moans.

"My Lady." She shuddered when heard someone whisper behind her, masculine and low, pleasantly throaty. She did not turn towards him, looking ahead.

"You caught my attention right away. That beautiful back." The man muttered, running his fingers over her exposed skin − she felt a pleasant shiver, but did not bestow a single glance on him.

"I have to dance with you, my Lady, because I swear I'm going to lose my mind."

She lifted her chin higher and hummed, considering his words.

"We have enough madness in this stronghold so I am afraid I must prevent your downfall and agree, my Lord." She said, extending her hand to him − he took it respectfully and led her towards the spinning pairs.

She hadn't done it for months and never in this way and this man, whoever he was, was an excellent dancer.

He dared to shamelessly place his hand on her bare back and only then did she lift her warning gaze to him; his hair was dark and curly, reaching his shoulders, he was well built and tall.

She saw that he parted his lips when he saw a small part of her face, her eyes, lips and chin emerging from under her black mask, looking at her as if his breath had been taken away.

"Tell me you don't have a husband." He choked out between one turn and the next, their hands meeting in another movement.

"I have a husband, my Lord, and I am a faithful wife." She said softly − the man licked his lower lip, leaning over her, only to take a few steps away from her, their hands touching again.

"Is that so?" He murmured defiantly, and she smiled, amused, feeling herself throbbing at the thought that her king, her husband might have just watched her from afar, might have recognised her, might have been furious with jealousy.

That he might have wanted to kill this brazen man.

"Mmm. I would be careful if I were you, my Lord. My husband is dangerous. He is a breathing death." She whispered, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart at that thought, feeling with excitement that she was wet, her fleshy walls pulsing around nothing.

"I don't fear death. What I fear for is that I will never see you again." He said when the music ended, applause echoed around them, even though he should have done so, he didn't let go of her hand.

"You can be sure of that." She hummed with amusement, taking her hand and turning away from him, disappearing into the crowd.

She heard his desperate calls behind her and laughed, feeling like a mermaid who was leading an innocent young man to be devoured by a monster.

She was hot and walked over to the table to pour herself some wine, however the steel gilded jug was heavy and she had trouble lifting it. She shuddered and gasped when someone stopped right behind her, a large hand dressed in a black leather glove took it from her and filled her goblet halfway.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my Lady?" She heard a cold, deep, familiar voice behind her, a powerful shiver of desire passed through her − she involuntarily parted her lips feeling the unbearable pulsing of her walls and lifted her cup to her lips, taking a deep sip from it.

"Yes, my Lord." She replied innocently, feeling his hot breath on her neck, his dark, dangerous, sinister aura.

"Dance with me."

She felt her heart stop for a moment and swallowed loudly, turning over her shoulder.

A tear-stained mask on his face, a hood on his head.

He looked like one of her father's ghosts.

Vhagar.

He held out his hand to her and she placed hers on it, allowing him to guide her between the couples spinning to the rhythm of the music.

She felt stunned by his scent and his presence − if a moment ago she had been a cruel siren longing to devour, now she longed to be devoured, wanted to burn in the fire of his wrath, to die in the embrace of his arms if that was his wish.

As they made a turn their hands clasped tightly over their bodies; they were far too close to each other to consider their dance decent, however this night no one paid any attention to such things, his gaze from under the transparent black material cold and distant.

"Do you enjoy balancing on the edge of life and death, my Lady?" He asked low, his voice like ice, like a sharp blade − her pink lips swollen with desire parted slightly, droplets of sweat on her bare arms as they spun around each other, their hands touching.

"Yes." She whispered and heard him hum, as if he accepted her answer.

She felt overwhelmed, at the same time knowing who was behind the mask, yet being able to pretend that it was a complete stranger, a phantom who wanted to kill her, rip her entrails apart.

They didn't take their eyes off each other for the entire dance − there was something sensual in their movements, his gloved hand barely touching her bare back, she felt like she was about to die of lust.

She wanted him to do this to her, and he knew it, he could see it in her eyes.

When the music silenced they bowed to each other. She immediately headed towards the crowd, glancing at him meaningfully over her shoulder, watching to see if he would follow her. She stopped only at the wall, with nowhere else to go, her face illuminated only by the flame of a torch hanging nearby.

He walked towards her with a calm, lazy, firm step, like an executioner, like a judge, like a sentence to be imposed on her. She moaned as he turned her violently towards the wall, immediately pushing against her, she felt his hardness pressed against her buttocks.

"Whore." He hissed, she parted her lips and mewled, feeling her moist core throb around nothing, her cheek pressed against the wall, her fingers clenched helplessly on the cold stone.

She heard him pull off his gloves and throw them on the floor − one of his hands grabbed her neck and forced her to arch back and buck up, the other with an impatient, rough movement lifted the material of her gown at the front, slipping immediately between her thighs, they both groaned low with pleasure when he felt how wet she was.

"− what happened here? − hm? − fuck − all sticky −" He breathed out between her helpless, sweet moans, his fingertips spreading her moisture all over her womanhood, digging deeply into her skin around her pearl, teasing her with circular, sure strokes, involuntarily her hips began to rub against his hard cock hidden in his breeches behind her.

"− oh − oh gods, yes −" She mumbled dulled by how pleasurable it was − she heard him chuckle lowly behind her, his other hand clasped tighter around her neck. She squirmed as his finger tentatively slid inside her, only teasing her slit.

"− look at him − look at him when you fuck yourself with my fingers −" He growled and she obeyed his command, looking at the man who only a moment ago was ready to ask her to marry him − he stood in the distance looking at them in disbelief, his lips slightly parted.

She moaned, responding with her hips to his strokes when she realised that he must have imagined he was in the place of that black hooded figure standing behind her.

"− does your husband fuck you too rarely? − doesn't he stretch you well with his cock? − hm? −" He snarled, sliding his finger in and out deeper and deeper, pressing and rubbing again and again the wonderful spot hidden between her fleshy walls.

"− I − mghmm −" She mumbled out feeling that she was about to come, panting loudly along with him, his hips rubbing aggressively against her buttocks.

"− let's show him what duty a husband has to his wife −" He exhaled, sliding his finger out of her, his hand wet with her juices lifted her gown up.

She felt a chill wash over her exposed buttocks − there was music and loud conversations all around them, everyone could see what they were doing and although they weren't the only ones, the thought that it was happening right now and this way, made her legs tremble.

She heard him quickly undo the clasp of his coat, covering her with his body, not allowing anyone but him to see her womanhood, all swollen and wet with her moisture. She squirmed when she felt his freed, hard erection hit her bare skin, his fingers spreading her folds before him as the fat head of his cock pressed against her slit from below.

He opened her wide with one simple, sharp thrust, slamming into her like mad, his hand clamped around her neck forcing her to lean back more − she could feel his hot breath against her ear despite his mask.

"− look at him − he's fucking himself with his hand while looking at my wife − at my − fucking − wife −" He growled sinisterly, infuriated, rooting into her quickly and brutally, with each thrust of his hips forcing her sore, fleshy muscles to barely fit him in, his thick, swollen cock rubbing her so wonderfully that a cry broke from her lips − even if she wanted to she couldn't see anyone anymore, her gaze and mind clouded from pleasure.

"− you know he's already dead, don't you? − ah − would you want him to touch you before he died? − for him to root his cock deep inside you just for once? −" He hissed out between aggressive, deep thrusts, pounding into her with a loud slapping of flesh against flesh, both of them panting desperately, her body responding to his every move with rocking her hips.

"− n-no − your seed − I want it inside me −" She babbled with difficulty between her whimpers and his thrusts from which her whole body trembled − she heard his low groan of surprise and delight, his cock throbbing hard inside her, feeling her walls clench around him greedily.

"− beg − fucking beg −" He growled pounding it into her so hard that her pleasure was on the verge of pain − she cried out loudly sensing that a few more of his movements and she would come, feeling that wonderful tickle in her lower abdomen every time the tip of his cock rubbed against her upper wall again.

"− please − please, husband, have mercy − fill your faithful wife −" She mewled pleadingly, despairingly, pathetically, thinking only of the fact that she wanted him to come inside her, that she wanted to feel his spend trickling down her thighs when she looked again at this insolent man.

"− faithful? − you let him touch you − your bare skin that belongs to me − fuck − you don't deserve this grace −" He mocked licking his lips loudly, his thighs slapping against her buttocks with a loud click of her wetness with each ruthless thrust of his hips.

"− p-please − oh − oh gods, m close −" She mumbled out in delight and parted her lips in shock as a powerful wave of pleasure surged through her body again, again and again.

She clenched her eyes shut moaning shamelessly − she heard him gasp lowly, pounding into her faster, panting heavily, his cock twitching all over inside her.

"− fucking take it − take it-take it-take it −" He growled rooting it into her so hard that her throbbing walls forced him to let go and at last he filled her with himself with a sigh of relief, rocking his hips inside her for a while longer, several couples standing near them looked at them in disbelief.

She squirmed with despair when she felt him slide out of her − he tied his breeches quickly and lowered her gown with an impatient flick of his hand, covering her buttocks and thighs where his seed was trickling down. She saw out of the corner of her eye that he had moved forward, between the crowd.

She sank to the floor, panting heavily, her face hot from the exertion huddled against the cold wall, her heart pounding like mad.

She saw that those around her were looking at her and she wondered if they recognised her.

After a moment, she rose as if nothing had happened and moved towards her husband's chamber, stepping inside without a word, slipping her black gown off her shoulders, lying on his bed with only her black mask over her face, her thighs sticky from their mingled moisture.

She lay in the dim candlelight as he stepped into his chamber − her attention immediately drawn to the fact that he had no mask, his hood slipped from his head, his hands all covered in blood.

With a calm, nonchalant movement, he approached the table and undid the buckles of his cloak, dropping it to the ground, sinking his hands into a bowl of water, washing them thoroughly of the sticky red.

"Has my wife enjoyed her evening?"

"Yes, my King." She whispered softly, lying on her back, one of her legs bent at the knee swinging slightly from side to side, her hands placed on either side of her head.

"Mmm."

"I warned him that I have a husband and that I am an obedient, faithful wife. That this was the last day of his life. But he didn't listen." She whispered, looking at him with her lips slightly parted, knowing that they were both mad, that she shouldn't feel such heat at the thought that he was so sickly jealous of her.

And yet.

"Mmm, no need to fret about it anymore, my love. He will never bother you again."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[tigirl-and-co]

How Finite is Love?

This is a short little piece set in @shirecorn‘s super cool mlp AU! This is just a first pass at it, I’ll definitely refine it if I post it to a fic site. I just HAD to get this out though, the au hits all my sweet spots!

Shining Armor considers the ponies he loves, and how a mortal pony can love goddesses.

Shining Armor held no resentment towards his two favourite mares. It wasn't their fault. They had no choice. Shining wasn't certain he believed in destiny, but whatever happened to his wife and baby sister sure was close.

First it was his wife, and that he could handle. She was an adult. They had fallen in love in highschool, they had grown together, Shining knew how strong Cadance was. If anypony deserved ascension, it was her.

If anypony could weather this, it was them.

He loved his wife with every bone in his body, every fiber of his being, every ounce of magic he could channel. And he knew she felt the same. If she didn't... this never would have happened.

Can love be a curse? Can loving somepony too much damn your soul? Can it save it?

About a month after Cadance gained her horn, Shining Armor decided dwelling on these questions wasn't helpful, and the answers didn't matter. He loved Cadance, and Cadance loved him. He couldn't change the past, wasn't sure if he even would -- but he was dead set on building a happy future.

At least as happy as he could give her. He couldn't guarantee that the love his mortal body held would last into her infinity, but he was determined to try.

He hoped it wouldn't destroy her to leave him behind, when the time came.

He loved her too much for that.

===

He had celebrated when The Sun took notice of Twilight.

The young stallion was oblivious to the looks of quiet worry on his parents' faces, the body language that said they were resigned to a cautious optimism. How could the attention of the source of Equestrian life bring anything but fortune?

He wasn't yet old enough to have heard the whispers. The old fables weren't circulated in school for fear of divine retribution, and Shining Armor was not as studious as his sibling.

Now?

Had he the power, he would have torn The Sun from the sky.

His baby sister, the sweetest and most sensitive mare he had ever known, damned to an eternity of watching her friends die.

She was a child (she was older than Cadance had been) she needed protection (she had brought down false gods) she wasn't ready (The Sun had learned from its mistakes, this new goddess was more than prepared).

She needed him.

Didn't she?

(She did, once.)

He was proud of her, of course. And if he had been watching for the signs, he wouldn't have been surprised.

Twilight Sparkle had always had an innate love for those around her. Before she had locked herself away in that tower amongst the tomes, she had been a kind filly. And even then, she had never quite managed to harden her heart.

She was still openly affectionate with him, with Cadance, with Twilight Velvet and Night Light. She shared her knowledge with them because it was how she said 'I love you.'

Leave it to a goddess to exploit that trait.

When Shining managed to find time to talk with his Twily after she had earned her wings, she had said her job as goddess was 'to spread the knowledge of friendship' and to teach others what friendship truly meant. She sounded excited, happy. She had found a purpose for her research.

Shining Armor wasn't sure if his baby sister hadn't yet considered the consequences of eternal life, or if it simply didn't bother her. He didn't ask.

He realized that while she was still his Twily, and would be until the day he died, she was more. She was Ponyville's friend. She was Celestia's Twilight Sparkle.

She was Equestria's new goddess.

He renewed his vow to remain her BBBFF forever, to keep her safe from turmoil and danger.

He swallowed down his anger and despair that night, in favour of his inevitable role as protector. He had his cutie mark, and he knew what it meant.

===

Shining Armor loved the mares in his life, and he would go to the ends of Equestria to keep them safe and happy, whether they needed him or not.

He was glad, at least, that they would have each other.

[thenameswinterfics]

VISIONS OF HELHEIM

Fandom: The Last Kingdom Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Reader Settings: Season 2, episode 4 Summary: Sihtric has never forgotten his mother, whose presence continues to haunt his dreams. And as the Battle of Dunholm draws to a close, you help Sihtric mourn her. Word Count: 6,1 K Warnings: Fluff, angst, missing moments, mention of past abuse, mention on non-consensual relationship (not described in detail), mention of character death, mention of graphic violence (not described in detail). A/N: I'd like to start by saying that it was supposed to be a short fic, but my imagination literally exploded. I'm terribly nervous about this fic, maybe more nervous than the previous one, I've tried to contain the angst so that reading won't be so overwhelming. I know my summaries are terrible, but I swear I'll learn. I'm not an expert in Norse mithology, nor in Pagan traditions, so I apologise in advance if you'll find some inaccuracies. For Elflaed's description I took inspiration by another amazing writer here on Tumblr, giving my own interpretation in some details as well. I forgot the blog's name, so if any of you should know them, please give me the name and I'll quote it! As always, a special thanks to @sylasthegrim, @legitalicat and @sihtricfedaraaahvicius for calming me down during my writing crises (I know it happened once, but your help has been precious), to @lord-aldhelm for helping me fill in some language gaps and to @foxyanon and @zaldritzosrose for a last minute check and helping me with finding a title (Foxy, I love your brain, and thank you so much for sharing with me your knowledge about Norse and pagan culture).

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGISE IN ADVANCE FOR MY GRAMMAR AND VOCABULARY MISTAKES.

Header & dividers by @zaldritzosrose

READ IT ON AO3

A raging storm crossed the lands of Dunholm in the middle of night, the shining moon hiding behind a dense bank of dark grey clouds. The gentle breeze that caressed the tree canopies turned into a violent wind that bent the tree trunks, devastating nature with its destructive force. Drops of rain fell on the ground, saturating the soil and creating small puddles that increased their volume over time. Flashes of light appeared in the sky, creating a spectacle at once majestic and terrifying. 

The bravest men and warriors who dared to face the storm and believed in the Old Gods would say that it was all Thor's plan: enraged by the despicable actions of Dunholm's Jarl and his men, the god of thunder brandished his Mjolnir in the air and unleashed the most dangerous lightning and the most treacherous of the storm. But even the worst of natural disasters could not move the heart of a cruel man.

Elflaed sat on the cold floor of a crumbling hut, feeling the window doors creak and slam violently as cold air and water entered the house. She held her son in her arms, his tiny body curled up against her in search of warmth and protection, his big, mismatched eyes craving comfort in his mother's. Her arms were wrapped around him protectively, adjusting the thick fur on her shoulder and holding him close as her soothing voice sang a lullaby, hoping to shield him from the sounds of the raging storm.

There had always been a hint of sadness in the young woman's eyes, spreading to the sweet features of her face, a bittersweet feeling growing in her chest every time she looked at the little life she held in her embrace. If only the gods had been merciful to her and not given her a son in the most despicable way. 

When she closed her eyes, she could feel Kjartan's large, rough hands exploring parts of her body he wasn't allowed to touch, forcibly stripping her of her dignity, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt her pleas ignored. Anger, fear and resentment grew inside her along with an unwanted life, her womb cultivating the seed of a relationship that should never have existed. Elflaed prayed each night with her eyes to the sky, hoping that some merciful god would rid her of the life she was forced to carry. But no child is guilty of the actions of their father, and the young woman learned that the first time she held the infant in her arms, her maternal instincts took hold of her heart as his soft cries filled the room.

And for the following winters, Elflaed raised her son alone, protecting him from a father who rejected one of the many bastards he had across Dunholm. The love for her son grew along with the hatred for Kjartan, which reached its peak as one day she found a bush of black berries in the forest. She was aware of how poisonous those berries were, and had no intention to waste a precious opportunity.

"You will live, sweet boy," Elflaed cooed as she watched Sihtric drift back to sleep, no longer afraid of the storm outside. Her tone was reassuring, trying to calm herself more than him, as her fingers brushed across his tiny forehead, moving strands of hair away from him. “And I will always be here, watching over you.”

It was in that moment that her gaze moved onto the plate of the nightshade berries on the table. She would have her revenge that night.

And her destiny was sealed.

Never before had the night looked so beautiful and so full of mystery.

That was what you thought as you lay on a large pile of hay outside the saddles, your eyes never leaving the great expanse of black veil that rose above your head, adorned with small silver points of light in which you could see all the signs of Ymir's work as he created the planets and all the stars. Your eyes darted in quick motion as you recognised the constellation of Ulf's Keptr, the Fiskikarlar, Kvennavagn and Karlvagn and the Asar Bardagi, your slender finger pointing at the sky and tracing the imaginary lines that connected those small celestial bodies, as bright as the flames that engulfed your house and took away your home and family years ago. 

You couldn't remember what it was about the stars that fascinated you, or how your mind had gotten so lost in a memory you never thought would surface again. But a sense of peace pervaded your mind, every inch of fear and anxiety in your body fading away as you fixed your gaze on the star, losing yourself in the vastness of the night sky. 

It had become a silent ritual that you would perform each night before going into battle, as if to ask the fallen warriors resting within the sacred walls of Valhalla for their protection to survive another day. But attacking an impregnable fortress like Dunholm was no easy task, you knew that. At least not in the way your brothers Uhtred and Ragnar had described it in their reckless plan to take the fortress and avenge your father's memory. It was your first serious battle, and never more than now did you seek the comfort of the stars. 

Your lips parted as you repeated the stories of the origins of these constellations that you had heard as a naive child from the warriors loyal to your father. It had become a habit for you to let your thoughts out loud in your solitude: the cool night air had always been your silent companion through the years, gently tickling your hair and skin as its way of saying it enjoyed your stories. 

But this time was different. Because you were not alone.

Sihtric lay by your side, one hand on his stomach, the other behind his head. He lifted his eyes to the sky, without ever looking at you, while his ears strained to hear your stories of the celestial world. You could tell he was enjoying the little time you spent together by soft humming escaping from his lips, a soothing sound that warmed your heart. But there was something in his eyes that caught your attention: his gaze was distant, pain and melancholy crossing through its bright, multi-coloured irises, his pupils involuntarily dilated.  

Sihtric had always been a shy and quiet warrior, very reluctant to talk about his past and his birthplace unless asked. You could see his eyes flickering involuntarily at every mention of his father, his head drooping and his jaw clenching as the memory of his past came back to haunt him, the shadow of Dunholm walking beside him and never letting go. 

A gnawing vice tightened in your chest every time you saw Sihtric walking around with a blank stare, taking refuge in his tortured thoughts, and not even your touch could save him, pulling back every time your fingertips brushed against his bare arms. And when you found him asleep in the saddles, or anywhere else far from home, you could hear him calling out to his mother in his nightmares, instinctively embracing her as if to feel the motherly warmth he had lost years ago. Sihtric had never spoken of his mother, nor had you dared to ask, until tonight, under a sky full of stars and a fierce war on the horizon.

“Tell me about your mother,” you broke the silence of the night and shifted your position to lie on your side, looking at Sihtric with curiosity. Your sudden question awoke the Dane from his trance-like state, his eyes widening as he rested his gaze on you.

“Lady?” Sihtric asked back, his voice trembling slightly like the hand that rested on his stomach. 

"You told Lord Uhtred that you were Kjartan's bastard son, whelped on a slave girl. We know everything about that wretched turd," the last word came out in a low hiss, your words as heavy as the resentment you felt for your father's murderer. "But there have been no words for your mother, so I would like to know about her." 

At first you didn't realise how demanding your tone was, but when you regained your composure and saw Sihtric's muscles tense and his breath catch at your request, you bit the inside of your cheek and cursed yourself for being so impulsive. You knew how Sihtric flinched whenever anyone spoke to him in a stern tone, but you were Uhtred and Ragnar's little sister: impulsiveness was in your nature. 

An awkward silence fell over you as you both stared at each other, different emotions mingled in the air creating a heavy atmosphere. Finally, after a few minutes that felt like an eternity, you broke the silence and looked away. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered with guilt in your voice, struggling to find the right words. “My apology, forgive what I said before.” You were about to move when his voice stopped you.

“Elflaed,” Sihtric spoke in a weak voice, and if you listened carefully you could hear the trembling in it. “She was called Elflaed, lady.”

Elflaed. That was the name Sihtric called out every night in his unconscious state, searching for a mother he could no longer hold in his arms. Sadness washed over you as your thoughts returned to your own mother and how you felt your heart torn from your chest the night she died. But you had first Uhtred and Brida, then Ragnar, to help you through your grief, while Sihtric had no one to support him. And the grip on your heart tightened. 

“Was Dunholm her home? Was she a Dane like you?” you asked with a soft voice, and Sihtric shook his head faintly.

“No. She was a Saxon, lady. She came from Hocchale, lady. She was taken in Dunholm as a slave.” the Dane replied, looking down at his trembling hand on his stomach. You could still see his mismatched eyes shining in the pale moonlight, watering as he fought back tears. You held a hand up in the air, wanting to place it on his shoulder and give him all your support, but remembering how your touch was not welcomed by his involuntary shudder, your hand returned to your side.

“Your mother,” you broke the silence for the third time, closing your eyes and squeezing the bridge of your nose as you tried to find the right words. “She… I know I am asking you a delicate question, but… What happened to her?”

And at that moment, Sihtric looked away from the sky to rest his gaze on you, his pupils still dilated and his eyes still watering as he looked around slightly, fearing that some punishment might come if he dared to speak the truth. But when he realised that no harm could come, he calmed down slightly and spoke again. 

"She tried to poison Kjartan, lady," the Dane confessed, mustering the courage to change his position and lie on his side, telling you the truth as he looked into your eyes. "With the black berries. The nightshades, lady," he swallowed a lump that formed in his throat before continuing, his voice breaking with emotion, "I do not know what happened that night, lady. All I remember is that she left me and..." 

A sob escaped his lips and the way his body was shaking made you realise he could collapse in front of you at any moment. Without thinking, you raised your hand and placed it gently on his cheeks: to your surprise, he didn't flinch, but looked at you intently, leaning into your touch.

“Sihtric,” you opened your mouth, but the Dane was quick to interrupt you.

“I loved her, lady. With my whole heart, I swear it,” he said with a pleading voice, clutching the pendant of Mjolnir in his trembling hand, in the same way he did the day he swore his oath to Uhtred.

“And I believe you, Sihtric, you do not need to swear to me,” you replied softly, closing the distance between you and resting your forehead on his. Both your hands rested on his cheeks, your thumbs moving in a circular motion to calm him. You felt a soft breath leave his lips and his breathing slowly stabilised. He found a temporary peace in your warmth and you would be his steady rock, shielding him from his past. 

“I promise you, under this sky painted of stars, that your mother will be avenged tomorrow. Kjartan will draw his last breath in battle and his death will be far from honourable,” you confirmed in a soft yet firm tone, clutching your own Mjolnir pendant in your hands. “Do you trust my words?” 

Sihtric was silent for a moment, your words and actions clearly taking him by surprise. But when he opened his mouth to reply, you saw his hand reach for yours, his frightened eyes soften, a pink hue colouring his cheeks. His words came out in a feeble whisper, but you were close enough to hear them. 

“I trust them, lady. With my life and soul.”

And then, in the middle of the night, the surreal silence was broken by two humming voices saying a prayer for survival in battle.

Tension hung in the air as several warriors gathered to form a square in the courtyard, with Ragnar and Kjartan standing in the centre, facing each other in a duel to the death. Heavy blows of swords and axes against wooden shields came from the human ring, low growls and cheers escaping from their lips as the duel became more bloody and brutal. But Sihtric said nothing, holding his helmet tightly in his hands as he waded through the crowd. 

The battle at Dunholm fortress drained Sihtric both physically and mentally: returning to the place where pain and abuse had haunted him since childhood was a challenge he never wanted to face again. Yet he swore an oath of loyalty to Uhtred, and offered up his sword and his life under the watchful eyes of the gods. If Uhtred wished to attack the fortress, Sihtric would obey without question. 

But even his lord could not prepare him for what he was about to witness. A wave of emotion washed over him as he saw Kjartan, the man who had nothing in common with except the blood that ran through his veins, slowly perish under every blow that Ragnar struck, the scene so crude and sickening that even the bravest of warriors could not watch for long. 

Satisfaction first, then horror, disgust and bitterness as he winced at every blow Kjartan received, the ground of Dunholm painted crimson as blood coursed through his body. Sihtric felt numb, a myriad of thoughts running through his mind, remembering his life as a slave in his own house, how his body and mind endured his father's cruelty, how he tried to impress him and earn love and respect, only to be mocked and humiliated in return. He remembered every scar and bruise he had received, and how his body ached with every blow as he lay stunned on the floor after his punishment was over. 

As he exhaled a ragged breath, unrest was painted on his face, his skin turning pale as his mind returned to the night his mother died, her piercing screams echoing in his mind as they had on that stormy night when she was thrown to the dogs on his father's orders. It was a melody that haunted his dreams, begging his mother to forgive him for not being able to save her. A forgiveness that never reached him.

A gentle grip on his hand brought him back to reality, the muffled voices in his ears crystal clear as reality returned in all its crudeness. Sihtric slowly realised that it was over as his eyes rested on his lord, who was holding an enraged Ragnar close to him. A heavy silence filled the fortress as all the warriors realised what had really happened, neither faction daring to continue the fight. 

Sihtric recognized your touch, but he was too stunned to return the squeeze. And you just stood still at his side, watching helplessly as the ghosts of his past returned to haunt him, while he felt the echo of Elflaed’s voice reaching his ears.

You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way towards Dunholm's dungeon, the faint flame of your torch trembling with your hands. The damp air didn't help your anxiety, and you tried to manoeuvre through the darkness of the place with cautious steps, the metallic smell of blood irritating your nostrils.

You have won the battle, but at what cost? You asked silently over the flames of the small brazier in the great hall, but the soft crackling of the wood didn't give you the answer you were looking for. 

The attack on the fortress had been successful, and Young Ragnar had honoured Ragnar the Fearless’ memory by taking Kjartan's life. But it was a bittersweet victory for you, for the gods wouldn't give you back your father, who was feasting among them in the golden halls of Valhalla. To your surprise, you found out that Thyra was alive, but hatred burned in her heart as she blamed you all for abandoning her to her fate. Uhtred and Ragnar told you that she was safe in Father Beocca's hands, but you knew that nothing could easily mend a broken trust. 

But your mind couldn't stop thinking about Sihtric, and how he was too overwhelmed and confused to return your touch, and how he remained silent throughout the aftermath. He just stood there in the courtyard, looking at his father's lifeless body with an indecipherable expression on his face, before shaking his head and silently returning to his duties. You thought that taking him to Dunholm would have caused him no small amount of pain, and you had several arguments with Uhtred about sparing Sihtric further suffering. But your brother was adamant, and the young Dane was too loyal to disobey him. 

And in the midst of your thoughts, you felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, forcing you back into reality and into the deep blue eyes of the Daneslayer, who looked at you with concern. 

“Sihtric has been missing,” he told you with a low voice, and you jolted on the furred chair.

"I thought he was celebrating the victory with Finan and the others," was your blunt reply, feigning disinterest while a storm of emotion exploded inside you. 

“Finan told me he has not seen him for hours,” Uhtred retorted, and deep down in your heart you knew what you had to do. 

And so there you were, searching for Sihtric in the darkest part of the fortress after a long search on the surface. You thought you would find him in the stables, the place where he usually spent most of his time, meticulously tending to the horses: but to your surprise, he wasn't there, nor was he in the servants' quarters. 

A sense of foreboding grew within you, a sense of claustrophobia struck you as you felt the walls of the dungeon closing in around you, the dim light of your torch illuminating the poorly maintained surroundings, the damp, enclosed smell making you dizzy as you saw your shadow playing tricks on you. You were about to lose hope when you heard a ragged breath from a few cells ahead. 

You moved quietly in the direction of the sound until you saw Sihtric lying on the ground, a thick fur protecting him from the cold floor. Your heart ached as you watched him toss and turn on the ground, his lips trembling and his forehead drenched in sweat as nightmares once again took possession of his mind, his mother's name slipping from his mouth in a whisper. You looked at him with a hint of sadness in your eyes, and unlike the other nights, this time you would have woken him. 

You approached him gently, your touch on his shoulder as light as a feather as you shook him lightly. This sudden action caused him to wake up abruptly, jumping to his feet as he didn't recognise you in the darkness. You jumped back as well, about to fall to the ground in a heap from his sudden movements. 

“Sihtric,” you whispered smoothly, raising your hands as you wanted to reassure him no harm would come, “It is me, do not be afraid.”

You continued to speak in your soothing tone as you allowed the fire of the torch to illuminate your features. Sihtric's body stopped shaking as he recognised you, trying to compose himself as he bowed his head slightly in respect, ignoring the way his chest rose and fell frantically.  

“I wondered where you were. I thought you were feasting with the others, or you were resting in one of the fortress’ rooms,” you inquired, your eyes sad as you thought that sleeping in the cells was a habit he had developed during his time as a slave and imagined him resting in his cold, isolated cell.  

“Forgive me, lady,” Sihtric muttered back in a strained voice, looking down at his feet. The Dane warrior secretly thanked the gods for the poor lighting in this place, hiding the redness of his cheeks. “I… I did not know where else to rest.” 

After hearing his answer, you let out a small sigh, saddened by the realisation that he still did not feel safe at home, even after seeing his father's reign of cruelty end before his eyes. 

“Be free to move wherever you want,” you approached him and placed your hand on his shoulder once more, a flash of realisation came over you: you had promised to be his rock under the starry sky, and you would keep it. 

"Kjartan is dead, Sihtric. Your days of fear and suffering are over, you are a free man now," you said with softness in your voice, locking eyes with him as he raised his head, his mismatched eyes silently yearning for your protection. The Dane warrior nodded his head, his lips curling into a small smile. 

"Come, I will take you to a warm place, now," you said as you squeezed his hand and pulled him towards the exit of the dungeon. Sihtric followed you without saying a word, squeezing your hand back as he followed you, leaving a piece of his past behind as he left the cells.

Convincing Sihtric to spend the night with you was a difficult task: the Dane warrior was afraid that Uhtred might turn up and scold him for being alone with his little sister, but you tried to explain that he would not be arriving for some time, too busy discussing the future running of Dunholm with Ragnar. You let out a defeated sigh as you watched him furrow his brow in suspicion, but soon you were glad that he had at least convinced himself to trust your words. 

You led him into your temporary room, one of the largest in Dunholm, beautifully decorated with carved wooden planks on the ceiling and a few rugs covering the wooden floor. Despite its size, the large fireplace in the centre of the room was able to heat the whole room, the crackling of the wood being the only sound allowed in. 

You handled him with the utmost care, looking down his broad arms for any suspected wounds or cuts that might require attention. Desperately chasing away any impure thoughts about his appearance, you were pleased to find that his flesh was untouched and unblemished, save for a few specks of dust scattered about. You almost cursed yourself for not preparing a warm bath for him, and with what little water you had, you tore off a piece of your clothing and used it to clean his skin. Your touch was as soft as silk on his muscles, and Sihtric did his best to hide the redness of his cheeks. 

“Better?” you asked as you looked at Sihtric, your sudden question bringing him out of his thoughts. The Dane hummed back, his eyes softening in your presence. 

“Thank you, lady,” he whispered, leaning desperately on your touch as you continued to clean him.

Afterwards, you both lay down on the large bed, which was much more comfortable than the one you used to sleep on back in Cumbraland. The warmth of the blankets and furs gave you both a sense of peace and comfort, almost making you forget that a fierce battle had been fought that morning. 

You both looked up at the ceiling, imagining it to be the same starry sky as the day before. A pleasant silence filled the room, and the single thought brought a small smile to both of your faces, too drunk with each other's closeness as your hands instinctively reached out to each other, your fingers intertwined as you both used your thumbs to make small circles on the backs of your hands. 

You both enjoyed this idyllic moment until Sihtric cleared his throat and shyly drew your attention to himself as his big, mismatched eyes stared intently at you. You could see his pupils dilate again, and it was then that you realised something was troubling him. 

“Lady,” the Dane spoke quietly, squeezing your hand, “There is one thing I would like to do before we leave Dunholm.” 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and looked for a moment at how tightly he clasped your hand, as if he were secretly looking to you for comfort and understanding. 

“What is it?” you asked softly, your lips curving into a sympathetic smile as you waited for him to speak up. You were calm, taming your curiosity and impulsiveness. 

"There is a small place, a little far from Dunholm," he continued in a timid voice, looking down at your joined hands, as if he was regaining his courage by looking at them, "We can reach it by following the path of the small spring from the east wall, it is a safe route to take with our horses. It will be a short walk, and when we see a large hawthorn tree in the distance, we will have reached our destination.”

Sihtric paused for a moment and took a long breath before continuing.

"I buried my mother there. At least..." Another long sigh escaped his lips, this time more shaky than the first. "...where I would like to bury her." 

A heavy silence fell over the room, the calm and peaceful atmosphere vanishing in an instant. You stood still, too stunned by his words to speak. And when you found the courage to open your mouth, Sihtric quickly cut you off, clasping both of his hands between yours. 

"I wish to mourn her, my lady. To mourn her properly," Sihtric murmured, his eyes watering as he looked away from you and down at some random spot on the blankets. "I... I know we could slow the return journey, but I will speak to Lord Uhtred and I-I will take my punishment..." 

With an imperceptible movement, you slipped your hand from his grasp and cupped his cheeks, tilting his head and forcing him to look at you. A soft whisper escaped your lips, interrupting his stream of consciousness, his words replaced by a soft sigh, his head unintentionally tilted as his mismatched eyes rested on yours.

"My brother will not punish you for mourning your mother, Sihtric," you told him in a reassuring tone, tilting your head slightly so that your foreheads touched, "because we will go there at dawn tomorrow and you will be free to pray in silence and honour her memory.” 

There was something comforting in your words, a gentle reassurance that was like balm to Sihtric's heart, wrapping itself around your care and love. As your eyes met, you both felt a comforting warmth spread through your chests, an invisible thread drawing you together as you slowly drew closer, your lips brushing gently before locking in a timid kiss that became desperate as Sihtric poured all his love into you, pulling you closer and deepening the contact. 

After a few seconds he pulled away, both breathing heavily, but with their foreheads pressed together, a small smile crossed Sihtric's face. The Dane knew it was wrong to steal a kiss from his lord's sister, but you had become his shining star in a dark sky, and the flame of your love burned brightly in his heart.

And as the moon shone brightly in the sky, you both fell asleep in each other's arms, slipping into a peaceful sleep, feeling the gentle rhythm of each other's breathing and knowing that you would face whatever came next together.

Morning came and Dunholm awoke to a peaceful atmosphere, the days when Kjartan the Cruel ruled the stronghold fading away like grains of sand in the wind. The aftermath of the battle still left its physical scars, the courtyard still painted red, arrows and broken shields still lodged in the ground, the great ram still lying undisturbed at the foot of the gates. Yet nature was reborn after the death of its tyrant, the grass, plants and flowers seemed to grow with the brightest colours, and the melodious chirping of birds echoed in the air.

A few rays of the dawning sun filtered through the window and gently caressed Sihtric's sharp features, and he groaned softly as he slowly awoke, feeling his body well rested as he slept without nightmares for the first time. Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned awkwardly to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. A sense of worry washed over him when he didn't find you by his side, and suddenly he felt as if he had been transported back in time to when he was in Tekil's service, living under the pressure of impressing a father who was barely aware of his presence.

But his worries quickly vanished when he felt the door to the room open and you appeared behind it with a broad smile on your face. Sihtric was unaware that you had awakened before the sun could greet the earth with a new day, and unnoticed you quietly took your horse from the stables and followed the route he had described to you the night before. 

The ride to the hawthorn tree was very quiet, full of unspoken emotions. Years had passed since he had visited his mother's grave, and he had never thought that he would return to bid her a final farewell and leave Dunholm, burying a past he had hoped to forget, but which had made him the warrior he was. 

After a short walk they reached a large hawthorn tree, and to Sihtric's relief it was the same one he had seen as a child, not even the violent storms of the past few days had wiped it out. His eyes darted down to its roots, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw: the blank stones that had made up the small mound of earth he had imagined burying his mother many years ago had been replaced by larger, white stones, decorated with symbols he recognised as drawn runes, carefully scattered around the perimeter of the grave. 

A sudden realisation came to him as he remembered the way you had greeted him at dawn, your dirty hands suggesting that you had been to the burial spot and tended to his mother's grave before accompanying him. A small bouquet of hawthorn was placed over the patch of earth, and Sihtric recognised it as the flower Elflaed used to pick when she returned to the forest, remembering her sweet smile as she caressed the white petals with her fingers. 

You both knelt in silence at the foot of the grave, clasping your pendants together as you both silently recited a prayer to the goddess Hel, asking her to watch over Elflaed's soul in the halls of Eljudnir in Helheim. 

As the last words were spoken in silence, the weight of the moment fell heavily on Sihtric, and without realising it, he saw small teardrops fall to the ground and looked up at the sky, thinking that a storm was about to break. But his eyes were too blurred to focus on the orange-blue sky, and he slowly realised that the soil was wet with his own tears. Unable to contain his emotions, the Dane buried his face in his hands and let out a liberating cry, his shoulders shaking with sobs. You reached over and wrapped your arms around his large shoulders, pressing your lips to his temple, leaving a small kiss as you held him tightly in your hands.

"Let it all out," you whispered softly, your voice comforting as you gave him gentle strokes on his back, "I am here with you as your mother, watching over you." 

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder as emotions overwhelmed you as well, and you silently let your tears flow as you cried for your own late mother, whose soul rested in Valhalla with your father and the other fallen warriors. 

You returned to the fortress in silence, following the thin stream of water backwards as you chose your route, your horses dragged by the reins. Halfway you halted your march, your pause forcing Sihtric to rest as well.

"Is something wrong, lady?" he asked, furrowing his brow as he saw you approach in silence, one of your fingers trailing over the pendant of his Mjolnir. You both looked into each other's eyes, your cheeks turning red simultaneously as you both filled your nostrils with each other's scent.

“Promise me that, when we have a baby girl, we will name her Elflaed,” you confessed light-heartedly with a shy smile, and the Dane warrior looked down at his feet as his face turned completely red, the redness reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“A-A baby girl?” he muttered, swallowing a mix of air and saliva while his mind was filled with endless thoughts. 

Sihtric fell in love with you the night he failed in his mission to kidnap Uhtred and was taken prisoner, the compassion in your eyes a thing that never left his mind. He secretly wanted to find the courage to confess his feelings for you and take you as his wife, but something prevented him: he was not afraid to face Uhtred, he knew that you were more stubborn than his lord and that your brother would have given you everything, however reluctantly. He was afraid of himself, afraid of failing to please or impress you. Uhtred was the rightful heir to a land he sought to reclaim, and though in exile, Finan was still an Irish prince by blood. Sihtric was only a bastard son, with no land to claim and no royal title to flaunt. 

"I... I am afraid I cannot satisfy you, lady," the Dane gently declined your offer, which was met with a puzzled look from you. He let out a sigh before speaking again, "I-I have nothing to offer you, lady. I have no land to rule, nor enough silver to give you. I am a nobody, lady, and as much as I love you and want to take you as my wife, I fear I could not make you happy."

"I do not need a rich and powerful lord to be happy," you replied, shaking your head as a light chuckle escaped your lips. You placed your hand gently on his cheek, tracing the scar on his cheekbone with your thumb. "There could be many lords in all of England who would be willing to claim my hand, but in my heart I know that the only man I will ever allow to be by my side is you," you continued, still holding his pendant in your other hand.

A pleasant tension filled the air as you both stared at each other, the wind the silent intruder in your union. Sihtric's large hands rested on your hips, your thumb still tracing his scar, a soft hum vibrating in the Dane's throat as he surrendered to your touch. 

"I love you, Sihtric Kjartansson," you said softly, your eyes full of love as you rested your gaze on his alluring bicoloured eyes, "to Valhalla and back.”

"And I love you, lady," Sihtric replied shyly, returning your gaze with the same intensity as yours, "to Valhalla and back."

And the distance between you disappeared.

If you've come this far, thank you so much for reading my fic! Hope you enjoyed it!

Taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @foxyanon @legitalicat @zaldritzosrose

@alexagirlie @sylasthegrim @lord-aldhelm

[normatural]

Echoes of Souls | A.T

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Summary: In the old, abandoned castle, she found a love letter addressed to her, written by someone who died a century ago.

Word Count: 1.179

Warning(s): mention of violence - thats all, i guess. Regular HOTD's warnings.

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote something and my writing is a bit rusty so please bear with me :) Feedback is always welcome. I love to know your opinions and questions. English isn't my first language so excuse any mistakes but feel free to point them out to help me improve.

Aemond's masterlist

Chapter Three: What was forgotten

The moon hangs high in the night sky, casting a silver glow through the narrow windows of Aemond's chambers. The room is dimly lit by a few flickering candles, their flames casting long shadows on the stone walls. You stand by the window, looking out at the courtyard below, your thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and unanswered questions.

Aemond sits at a heavy wooden table, studying a map spread out before him. His single eye, sharp and calculating, moves over the lines and symbols with a practiced intensity. The fire crackles in the hearth, adding a low, constant hum to the quiet room.

"You should sit," Aemond says, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of command. "We have much to discuss."

You turn to face him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of the man you had come to know in your dreams. You move to the chair opposite him and sit down, your hands folded in your lap to steady your trembling fingers.

Aemond looks up, his gaze piercing. "I know you're disoriented. You’ve been gone for two days, yet you seem to carry the weight of a lifetime."

You nod slowly, struggling to piece together your fragmented memories. "I… I remember traveling to the future. We talked about it, didn’t we? You said I needed to gather information."

Aemond’s expression remains inscrutable. "Indeed. Our goal was to understand the future, to gain an advantage in the war for the Iron Throne. But it seems your journey took you further than we anticipated."

As he speaks, memories from your actual life, the person you are in this past, begin to flood your mind. It's overwhelming as if two lives are colliding in your thoughts. You thought that you would pass out. That same dizziness in the tree that brought you back here was now combined with a teeth-gritting pain in your skull - as if hands were squeezing your head. Everything was so much that you didn’t hear Aemond’s worried tone calling out your name.

He stands and moves to a small chest by the hearth, retrieving a leather-bound journal. He hands it to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending a shiver down your spine. "This is where we began. You wrote down your observations before you left."

You open the journal, the familiar handwriting bringing another rush of memories. You scan the pages, your eyes widening as fragments of your mission return to your mind. "You wanted to know about the political alliances, the threats to House Targaryen."

Aemond nods, his expression unreadable. "Yes. We needed to understand our enemies and their strategies. You were to find out who would betray us, who would stand with us."

You look up from the journal, meeting his gaze. "I remember something about a key alliance… Someone who could tip the balance in our favor."

Aemond’s eye flickers with interest. "Go on."

You frown, trying to pull the elusive details from the depths of your memory. "It was… the Starks. In the future, they play a crucial role. Their support could be decisive."

Aemond's expression hardens, his mind racing through the implications. "The Starks are proud and stubborn. Gaining their support will not be easy."

You close the journal, your hands trembling slightly. You know something else, but you're not ready to voice it. The knowledge of Aemond's premature death weighs heavily on your heart, a truth that could change everything between you. What if your attempts to change the future were what brought that destiny? Maybe the future could not be changed if you had already seen it… Or perhaps, that was a gift - a chance to save your lover from the tragedy he’d come to face in the sky.

Aemond notices your hesitation, his gaze softening with a mix of concern and curiosity. He reaches across the table, his hand covering yours in a reassuring gesture. "Vaela, you carry a heavy burden. If there is something you remember, something that troubles you, you can tell me."

His touch sends a jolt of warmth through you, and for a moment, you forget the weight of your memories. You meet his eye, seeing not just the fierce prince but the man who has captured your heart.

"I…" You falter, unsure how to voice the truth. Your heart aches at the mere thought of it. "There are things I remember, Aemond. Things that trouble me deeply."

He leans closer, his breath mingling with yours as your foreheads touch. "Tell me, Vaela. I am here to listen."

You swallow hard, your gaze locked with his. "I remember… your death. A fate I fear to speak of, for fear of what it might mean for us."

Aemond's eye widens slightly, his grip tightening on your hand. "You saw… my death?"

You nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "I saw enough to know that we must tread carefully. That every decision we make could alter the course of fate."

He didn’t wish to know about it any more than you to tell. His chest seemed heavy as coldness crept into his bones. He needed to know everything about what was to come or otherwise, what was worth your sacrifice if he selected only the facts that he cherished to know?

“You shall be careful when facing your uncle for was him who brought your death. Your body was found only later with a… his sword through your eye.” The words cut your throat as they spilled past your lips. “They said it was a sight to be seen. All the Dragonfire and roars.”

Aemond’s face twitched at the mention of Daemon, a groan leaving his lips before he got up. His hand clenched to fists at his sides as he took a deep breath. He wouldn’t accept to lose for his uncle - even if he was a skilled warrior. The prince needed to be better. He’d be better. Even if that meant he’d have to extend his training for hours in a row. Aemond would win his uncle in a battle and have his head as a token - just like how he did with his innocent nephew. 

For a moment, there is silence between you, the weight of unspoken truths hanging in the air. Aemond breaks the silence, his voice a low murmur filled with determination. "Whatever lies ahead, Vaela, we face it together."

His words resonate deep within you, a promise of love and loyalty that transcends future uncertainties. You get up and walk to him. Arms wrapping around Aemond’s torso as you lean into him, seeking solace in his embrace, and he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you with fierce protectiveness. You couldn’t lose your lover so early. 

As you rest against his chest, you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a comforting reminder of the present moment amidst the tumult of past and future. In Aemond's arms, you find a fleeting sense of peace in this quiet sanctuary. He was alive. You would change the end of that battle or die trying.

+

Taglist: @donut-seam @strangersunghoon @teasweeter @darktrashsoulbear @m00n5t0n3 @rosey1981 @kniselle @rebloggerist-extraordinaire

[forever-rogue]

Okay so what if nurse Steve, using his medical knowledge, is like my wife is acting a bit different and seems to be having some signs of being pregnant. So he just brings her home a pregnancy test or even like a “congrats” present already cause he’s excited for a baby and wants the confirmation that his wife is pregnant

AN | Omg yes! I was hoping someone would bring this up. Dad Steve is just🥺 This can be read as a companion piece to the below but also as a stand alone!

Warnings | Mild Language, Pregnancy

Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.6k

Masterlist | Nurse Steve, Steve, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Steve got home it was at a reasonable hour for once. He fully expected that you’d be there to greet him, as you always were, but when he got home, he was met with silence and darkness. He saw your car in the driveway, and knew you should be home so he immediately grew nervous. You were his clumsy girl after all. 

“Babe?” He kicked off his shoes and walked into the darkened living room. He looked around and didn’t see anything out of place, but stumbled upon you, lying on the couch and snoring softly. He let out a sigh of relief as he looked at your sleeping form, draped a blanket over you, and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “oh my girl, you always keep me on my toes.”

He went into the bedroom to pull off his scrubs, figuring it was best to let you sleep and start dinner himself. You weren’t typically a napper, so if you were napping it meant that you must have been exhausted. He managed to shower, pull on a clean shirt and sweats before you padded into the bedroom, rubbing at your tired eyes.

“Hey my love,” you smiled softly, relieved that your husband was home, “‘m sorry I didn’t start dinner or anything. I wanted to have it all ready for you when you got home. I just got so tired and couldn’t stay awake.”

“It’s alright,” he wrapped you up into his arms and pressed a kiss to the side of your head, “it’s important for you to take care of yourself. Besides, we can make dinner together, huh?”

“Yes,” you nodded happily, “I’d love that, Stevie. You’re the best.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a beautiful Saturday morning, and for the first time in a long time, you and Steve both had the day off. When you woke up it was to sunlight streaming in through the gauzy curtains and an empty bed. You frowned and reached for the spot he normally occupied and felt that it was cold. He’d been up and out of bed for some time. You slid out of the bed and slipped on Steve’s discarded shirt from the night before and padded down the hall. 

You could hear Steve singing to himself accompanied by the delicious smells of breakfast. Okay, maybe you would forgive him after all since he was cooking. 

“Hey sleepyhead,” he looked up as soon as he heard you, a breathtaking smile spreading across his face, “good morning.”

“Good morning,” you walked over and stood behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle as you rested your head against his back. You could feel his warm chuckle reverb in his chest and pressed a few kisses to his shoulder, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he took one of your hands and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “I’m making your favorites. Thought we might go to the farmer’s market today if you’re up to it.”

“That sounds wonderful,” you sighed contently, happy at the prospect of spending the day with your favorite person. You were about to say something else, but you were suddenly overwhelmed by a sudden wave of nausea. You untangled yourself from Steve and looked at what he was cooking; the smell coming from the bacon hit you like a ton of bricks and you almost jumped back. 

“Angel?” Steve gave you a concerned look as you covered your mouth in an attempt not to throw up, “what’s wrong?”

“The smell,” you shook your head and stepped out of the kitchen, “it’s making me nauseous.”

“The smell?” he raised an eyebrow as you nodded and pointed at the skillet, “of bacon?”

“Yes,” you groaned and walked towards the bathroom, “I dunno what it is, but it’s terrible! I’ve gotta step away for a few minutes.”

Steve’s mind was reeling as he tried to figure out what could possibly be going on. Nothing, no food anyway, had ever caused such a reaction from you. Strange, he thought to himself, very strange. But he made a mental note of it, along with your increased napping as of late.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You let out an exhausted sigh as you sat down next to the toilet, the tile cool under your warm skin. You wiped at the back of your mouth in a vain attempt to make the awful taste in your mouth go away. Brushing your teeth would have been the best option, but it seemed like way too much work to get up and do that. Instead, you leaned against the edge of the tub and flushed the toilet. 

“Hey,” Steve knocked and waited for a moment before opening the door and popping his head. A look of concern crossed his features when he saw the state you were in, “what’s wrong, angel?”

“‘s nothing,” you tried to wave him off but he was crouching down in front of you within moments. He put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to meet his. He was way too pretty for his own good, “really. I’m fine, Steve.”

“You don’t look fine,” he frowned as he looked you over. Leave it to your nurse husband to panic at any little thing. Although…given the frequency and magnitude of things happening to you, he really did have a point, “sweetheart, I love you and you know I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, but you don’t look good. You look pale and exhausted.”

“Thanks, babe,” you teased as you groaned at the taste in your mouth, “but really, I’m okay. I just gotta get up, brush my teeth, and I’ll be ready to go.”

“I don’t think you should go to work today,” he shook his head and gave you a pleading expression, “please? At least for my sake - that way you can rest and fight off whatever this is.”

“I think it’s something I’ve been eating,” you shrugged it off and avoided looking at him; you probably would have fallen apart otherwise, “it’s been happening on and off.”

“Babe-”

“It’s fine,” you put your hands on where they rested on your thighs and tried to calm him down, “I’ve been getting lunch at this new place and they probably use stuff my stomach doesn’t agree with, I dunno.”

“Still…” he trailed off and you could practically see the gears turning in his head, “just…if you won’t listen to my professional recommendation, maybe listen to my husband-who-is-madly-in-love-with-you recommendation and just take it easy today, yeah?”

“I promise,” you couldn’t help but smile at his concern, “I’ll take it easy today, drink plenty of water, eat bland food, and rest as I need, Nurse Harrington. Swear.”

“Good,” he couldn’t help but laugh as he hooked his pinky around yours, “I love you, clumsy girl.”

“I love you, Stevie.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Later that morning Steve practically skipped into work, every bone in his body tingling with excitement. He was generally a happy and positive guy, but even his coworkers noticed that something was off. 

“What’s up with you?” Brenda, one of the older nurses asked as the two of them made their rounds, “you seem even cheerier than normal today.”

“Well,” he looked around, almost as if he was expecting you to pop up somewhere, “I don’t want to say anything too early, but I think my wife’s pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” she echoed with a big smile on her face, “how exciting! Oh Steve, that’s wonderful news.”

“I’m not positive yet,” he couldn’t keep the smile off his face, “but the signs are there. At first I thought it was just one thing and then another but this morning she was throwing up and said it had been happening for the week. I don’t think she has a clue, honestly.”

“You know,  it’s a lot different when you’re the pregnant one,” she gently nudged his shoulder, “you don’t put all the pieces together and don’t see it from a different perspective. So to you, it becomes normal…I mean you remember that one patient we had a while back? She was almost five months pregnant and had no clue.”

“Yeah,” he remembered that afternoon; it had been chaotic and telling a young woman that she was halfway through a pregnancy when she had no clue was…interesting. She was shocked, but once she thought about it, the pieces fit together. Maybe that was what it would be like for you too, “I’m thinking about picking up a test on my way home today and surprising her with it.”

“That should be interesting,” she agreed with a small laugh, “what’s been going on with her?”

“Poor thing has been so exhausted lately that she’s been coming home and napping almost every day. She never napped much before,” he explained, “random things have been making her nauseous and now the morning sickness, or at least what I presume it is.”

“That definitely sounds like early pregnancy,” she confirmed and the smile on Steve’s grew, if that was even possible, “that’s how it was for me with both kids!”

“I just…I hope she doesn’t get offended or anything by me bringing it up,” he dropped his voice, casting a furtive look around, “I mean, we haven’t been trying or not trying so…I don’t know.”

“She’ll take it in stride,” Brenda promised and Steve appeared relieved, “she’s a smart girl…clumsy but smart.”

“Yeah,” your tendency for injuring yourself was notorious around the hospital. It did make for a good love story though, the two of you meeting in the ER when you broke your ankle, “definitely clumsy.”

“But it’s wonderful news, Steve,” she put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “you’re so good with kids, they always love you. You’re going to be a great father - great parents.”

“Thanks,” he felt a wash of emotion wash over him as the back of his eyes prickled with tears. He’d always wanted to be a father, always wanted little nuggets of his own, and the fact that it now might be a reality was overwhelming, “I’m excited. So excited.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Honey, I’m home!” Steve almost skipped into the house, wasting no time in finding you in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled delicious. You grinned as soon as you saw him and sighing wistfully as he pulled you in a big, warm hug, “hi angel.”

“Hi Steve,” you looked up at him with sunshine eyes before kissing him softly, “you’re in a good mood. Good day at work?”

“Something like that,” he peppered your face in gentle kisses, causing you to laugh in the way that made his knees weak, “I got a few things!”

“Oh?” you raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out if you missed a holiday or some sort of anniversary, “what’s the occasion?”

“Well,” he walked to the other side of the counter where he’d dropped his bag on one of the barstools slyly, “there’s none! But these are for you.”

“Oh,” you looked at the gorgeous flowers held out by your wonderful husband and immediately felt on the verge of tears. You took them from his hand and clutched them gently to your chest. You sniffled softly, “they’re beautiful. Thank you, Stevie.”

“Of course,” he gently touched your face, brushing his knuckles over your cheek as you preened into his touch, “there’s something else too…”

“It’s gonna be kinda hard to top these,” you teased, Steve knowing full well that it definitely would, “but hit me with it.”

He reached into the bag, hesitating for just a moment before pulling out the box and setting it on the counter. You looked at for a moment, but realization quickly crossed your features, “listen, babe, I just think…with everything that’s been going on with you that you might be…you know, pregnant.”

“Pregnant,” you repeated as he nodded shyly. He was studying your pretty face, trying to gauge your reaction, but you gave nothing away. Looking between him and the box you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, “you know…I think you might be right.”

“Oh?”

“I, umm, started to wonder the same thing,” you confessed, “but I got scared, ‘cause I didn’t want to take a test and have it be negative. But if you think so too, Nurse Harrington, then maybe…I am.”

“Hey,” he gently turned your face towards his, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “it’s alright even if its negative. We’re already a family, you know? And whatever other family we want to have, we’ll get them one way or another. There’s no need to stress - if not now, then soon. In the future, there’s always time.”

“Yeah,” you choked up as you nodded at him. He always knew just what to say, “you’re right. I love you.”

“I love you,” it was a soft, gentle promise, “take it when you’re ready.”

“Do you mind watching the food?” you reached for the box and his hands found your hips as he gently nudged you in the direction of the bathroom, causing you to giggle in amusement, “I’ll be back in a few!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You looked at the small plastic stick on the bathroom counter, you let out a small sigh. Why did this short wait feel like the longest one in history? You paced around the bathroom, trying to keep your eyes away from the test and instead focused on reorganizing the bathroom cabinet. If you were going to have to wait, you might as well be productive. You’d thought about going out to wait with Steve, but you wanted to bring him the news instead. Hopefully the good news.

After what you were sure should have been enough time you glanced at your watch and saw that just enough time had elapsed. Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your ribcage as you anxiously snatched the test off the granite counter.

Two pink lines. Pregnant.

You threw open the door and ran down the hall and made it to the kitchen. Steve looked up at the sudden intrusion; he felt just as nervous as you had looked and waited in anticipation. You nodded and held up the test before sliding it over to him. He took a look at it and before you knew it, you were wrapped up in his arms. 

“I’m pregnant!”

“You’re pregnant,” he grinned, brushing away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, “I love you so much, angel.”

“I love you, Steve,” you touched his face, looking into his pretty ochre eyes, “I guess it all makes sense now…I don’t know how I was so blind.”

“It’s not that weird,” he insisted as you laughed lightly, “Brenda said she didn’t know at first either…”

“You told Brenda?” you snorted in amusement, knowing that the two of them shared a close bond, “how did you…”

“I needed a second opinion,” he winked cheekily, “she’s never been wrong!”

“And neither have you, my love,” you pressed your forehead against his, “I’m guessing half the hospital probably knows already.”

“Oh yeah,” he grinned, “she can’t keep a secret.”

“Neither can you apparently,” he shrugged sheepishly as you beamed at him, “but that’s okay. I…I’m really excited.”

“Me too,” Steve looked at you as though you had hung all the stars in the sky, causing you to practically melt. You loved him so much, just as he did you, “me too, angel.”

This was going to be a whole new adventure. 

[1intrusivethoughts1]

Love Language

Osamu Miya x transfer!reader

Part 1

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Atsumu and Osamu fighting, reader gets words wrong sometimes, some bullying in later chapters, part 2 coming soon, 2.3k words, probably has mistakes

You pursed your lips as yet again, you had gotten lost in the crowded schoolyard. The students talking in a language you didn’t understand well didn’t help either. Your parents had randomly decided to move to Japan and enroll you in a difficult study of the language for 3 months before tossing you in school. Yeah, you still suck at the language. Though your knowledge is well enough to converse with students, none of them had stopped to answer your question. Seemingly too busy to say a few words.

You entered the second building and stopped mid way through the hall. You stared at the class schedule sheet and tilted your head. Your expression remained very confused. Eyes tracing the words over and over again. You were at the right place…right? Your eyes remained on the paper and continued walking. That was, until you bumped into a person. Neither of you fell on the ground, it was a rather awkward position. You had your head shoved in their chest and was tilted slightly towards them. You immediately took a step backwards and bowed softly.

“I’m so sorry- I didn’t see…you.” You raised your head and your face immediately fell. A tall and very scary looking man was standing there. With your mouth agape, you took another step backwards before you put a determined look on your face. You can do this! Maybe he will help?

“Uhm…i’m new…can I have…help?” You said slowly, the words still didn’t roll off your tongue smoothly. Having to think before speaking always.

He raised an eyebrow, shocked by your question but nodded.

“Yeah, sure.” He hummed and bent down to your level, peering at your schedule. He hummed again and straightened his posture.

“Your first period is with me, so i’ll take you there.” He spoke softly as he turned around. He beckoned for you to follow as he started to walk down the hallways. You stayed beside him, occasionally glancing up at him. He wasn’t really scary, he was pretty nice. He had gray silver hair, the dark brown undercut hinting that it was dyed. He was also very strong, at least in your eyes. He had visible muscles and a nice jawline too.

“We’re here.” He announced and turned to you. Giving you a once over before he took his hand out.*

“I’m Miya Osamu.” He introduced himself, a small smile growing as you took his hand.

“I’m [Name]!” You smiled, happy someone was talking to you seriously. He said your name under his breath, almost testing it out. 

“Let’s go inside, okay?” He said in a gentle tone. You nodded and both of you walked inside the classroom, already filled with students. You unfortunately did not get a seat next to him, but was close enough for comfort. 

The teacher eventually arrived on the classroom and began to teach. You payed very close attention, mainly because it was difficult to understand some words he would say. 

“Uhm…excuse me?” You whispered to the person next to you. The girl looked at you and tilted her head.

“What?” She raised a brow.

“What was the word he said…minute ago?” You asked, though it wasn’t really a coherent sentence. She looked at you weirdly for a second before speaking.

“Relation?” She asked, and you nodded. She sighed and turned back to listen, while you scribbled down the word, hoping to get half of the notes write.

As you were writing notes down frantically, the lunch bell rang. Your head shot up and you frowned, stuffing your materials in your backpack. Once finished, you saw Osamu at your desk.

“Want to eat together?” He asked, his hands full with his bento box. 

A huge smile spread across your face and you nodded your head.

“Yes! I’d amazing love too!” You said, the smile still present as you grabbed your homemade lunch.

He quirked a brow at your word choice and smiled, chuckling under his breath. You followed him to the cafeteria, where you both sat down at a random spot. He opened his bento box, which revealed onigiri and some vegetable sides. It looked really good. 

“Did you make that, Miya-san?” You asked, pointing at the onigiri’s. He nodded his head and placed one on your boxed lunch. 

“Try it.” He said before grabbing one for himself. You were about to protest, but honestly it looked really good. Picking it up gently, you took a bite. Your eyes immediately lit up and a smile spread across your lips.

“It’s really good!” You gushed, taking another bite. He smiled in response, before someone yelled his name. He sighed, his smile disappearing as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Oi! ‘Samu! where’s my lunch?” A blonde guy yelled, who looked really similar to Osamu. The blondes eyes traveled to you and he paused for a moment, before looking back at Osamu with a smirk.

“Who’s this? Eating with a fan? How scandalous!” He gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. Osamu glared at him before speaking.

“She’s new, a transfer.” He explained.

“[Name], this is my brother Atsumu…” Osamu said with a sigh, he didn’t sound very happy.

“Twin brother! Twin!” Atsumu corrected him loudly, as if it made a huge difference. 

“Nice to meet you, Atsumu.” You smiled. He walked over to you, surprising you a bit. He placed a hand on his chin as he studied you,  looking you up and down. 

“You should be our volleyball club manager.” He said bluntly. You furrows your eyebrows, what was that?

“What’s a volleyball manager?” You asked. Atsumu opened his mouth to speak before Osamu interrupted him.

“No, ‘Tsumu. She’s new. She needs time to adjust and shouldn’t have to worry about this.” He frowned. Did his brother always make him this angry?

“Why not? She’s perfect!” He continued speaking in a hushed yell, though it didn’t really work out. The two continued to banter and you could only think of one solution. Why not apply yourself to something you know nothing about? Sounds like a great plan. 

“I’ll be the manager.” You spoke, causing the twins to look at you. Atsumu looked happy while Osamu shook his head at you.

“I think it’ll be fun. It’ll be okay, Osamu.” You smiled, as if to ease whatever worries he had. He let out a sigh and Atsumu grinned, grabbing your wrist. 

“Alright, follow me.” He snickered as he dragged you to who knows where. You didn’t really get the chance to follow him, as he was dragging you the whole time. He brought you to a table filled with more guys? 

“Guys, this is our new manager!” Atsumu stated proudly, placed his hands on his hips and closing his eyes to add emphasis. You stood there and shyly waved. This was super awkward. One dude stood up and bowed to you.

“I’m Kita Shinsuke, the team captain. Thank you for applying yourself.” He said in a gentle voice. You smiled at the greeting and bowed back at him. He’s really nice.

“I’m [Name].” You introduced yourself, the other guys nodding in response. 

“Can you stay after school from now on? We have practice then.” Atsumu asked excitedly, he sounded really happy about a manager. You nodded, why not? It’ll show your parents that you’re applying yourself to the new school. 

“Great! ‘Samu can show you where since he’s in your class.” He grinned before practically sprinting to his seat that was only a few feet away. You turned to go to your seat, but Osamu was right behind you.

“Oh!” You said awkwardly as you almost bumped into him again. 

“You know, you didn’t have to.” He said softly as you walked back to your food.

“Hm, yeah. I want to though.” You nodded, assuring yourself this was the right decision. He hummed at your response, and you both reached the table. 

“What does a manager do?” You asked, trying to sound nonchalant about it. He looked at you for a second before turning his head and chuckling a bit.

“They schedule matches, make notes of the players and help clean the gym. Nothing too bad.” He said slowly, hoping you would be able to understand all that.

“Oh, okay!” You hummed, though you did not understand it all. Japanese was hard…

The bell rang which meant classes, so you and Osamu packed your lunch up and walked back to the classroom.

“How long have you played volleyball?” You asked him, walking through the hallway.

“Oh, i’ve been playing it for a while. Since me and ‘Tsumu were kids.” He smiled.

“He’s better than me, he’s really talented.” He explained, glancing at you.

“Woah.” Was your response as you turned into the classroom and settled back down.

The rest of class was very boring, it was just stupid note taking, and your hand hurt. You shook your wrist, as if hoping it would alleviate the pain. Sadly, it did not. 

The teacher than announced class was over, which made you smile. Thank goodness. Gathering the few materials you still had out, you turned to Osamu who was looking at you. You slid your bag on your shoulder and made your way towards him.

“Ready?” He asked, placing his books in his bag before standing up.

“Mhm.” You hummed in response, and he led the way. He led you out of the building and along a path, leading to gym buildings. The doors opened upon Osamu pushing them, and a few members were already there. 

“Im gonna change into gym clothes, go talk to Aran or Suna. They won’t bite.” He explained, before exiting the doors you both entered from. You warily glanced at the two team members before taking a deep breath. 

Walking over to the two, you waved slightly as you approached them.

“Hey, I didn’t get to introduce myself. I’m Aran Ojiro.” He smiled, holding his hand out. You happily shook it, returning the smile. The guy next to him sighed and spoke up.

“I’m Suna Rintaro.” He said tiredly, as if introducing himself was energy draining. 

“Nice to meet you two. Do you know where the coach is?” You asked, and the two looked around. Suna pointing whole Aran voiced it once they spotted him.

“He’s over there.” You turned your head and thanked both of them before you jogged over to the coach.

“Hello, i’m the new manager, [Name].” You spoke, getting his attention. He raised a brow, before he sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Listen, if you were a manager you would have a form filled out for me. I know becoming the manager just to see the twins is a great idea it-“ He droned on, as if he had given this speech many times. Though he was interrupted by someone behind you.

“Hey coach! Yeah, I hired her on the spot.” Atsumu walked up beside you, placing a hand on your head. 

“Atsumu, you can’t just do that-“ The coach groaned, a hand running down his face. 

“Here, how about this. I get a form and…uh..” He gestured towards you. “You can fill it out.” 

“Okay! Thanks!” You smiled and Atsumu nodded in approval. Though the coach did give him a deadly side eye. 

You sat down on the bleachers, pulling out a clipboard the coach so graciously gave you. Writing the names down of the people on the team, you tapped the pencil on your chin as you watched them practice. Whatever they were doing, seemed right. You put a purposeful check next to their name, smiling at your hard work. 

“What are those checks for?” The coach asked suddenly, you didn’t even know he was there!

“Uhm, they’re there if they met the qualifications I had set this week.” You said, smiling proudly at the smart statement you had just made.

“Which are…?” He raised a brow, clearly expecting an answer. Uh oh, that’s a problem. You don’t know a thing about volleyball.

“I…I was thinking…oh! I was thinking of revealing them at the end of the week, to show what the players did well on.” You explained. He seemed impressed with your answer, letting out a hum as he crossed his arms.

“Good.” He said gruffly. He then pulled out papers and handed them to you.

“Fill these out and give them to me tomorrow.” He said before walking away.

You sighed, very relieved that the situation went well. As you looked back, you noticed Osamu glancing at you every now and then. Once you caught his eye, you gave him a little wave, which he returned of course. You then tucked the papers way into your bag, making a mental note to fill them out later.

Being a manager wasn’t so bad. Well, you shouldn’t say that when it’s your first day. As practice ended, you jogged over from your spot towards Osamu and Atsumu. You followed their actions, and began picking up balls and throwing them into the basket. Once the gym was all cleaned up, you began gathering your bags. 

“Hey, want me to walk you home?” You heard Osamu speak behind you.

“Us. Have us walk her home ‘Samu.” Atsumu corrected. 

You turned around to face them and nodded with a grateful smile.

“Sure! That’s very kindly.” You replied, though Atsumu bursted out laughing at your reply. Osamu shot him a glare before he sighed and looked towards you.

“Kind. Not kindly, though that does sound like a better word.” He said softly. Osamu paused before he jabbed Atsumu in the side, causing him to yelp in pain.

“I-I’m sorry [Name]…” He looked down with a frown. You giggled at that and shook your head.

“It’s fine.” 

The two of you then began walking towards your house. Finding out that your houses weren’t far from each other. Only a few houses down. As you arrived at your house you thanked both of them.

“It’s no problem! We are gentleman.” Atsumu said proudly, a stupid smirk on his face. Osamu rolled his eyes and waved at you.

“Take care.” Osamu said before walking off with Atsumu. 

Maybe being a manager wasn’t a terrible idea after all?

[mynameisjessejk]

Not A Hero

There were sails on the horizon.

Maedhros stared out to sea for a moment longer, the salt breeze keeping the smoke from his nose. It was quiet behind him. That was good thing, but it sat like lead in his stomach. In a moment, he would have to turn back, but he took one moment to look at the sea, the sunset, and the sails.

“Lord Maedhros,” Iorthomes said.

Maedhros nodded once to the ocean, and turned back.

Sirion burned, but the fires wouldn’t spread. When they were gone, the survivors would return, and the aid from Balar would find them. It was time to go.

“The pyres are finished,” Iorthomes said. “And the troops are marshaling on the east road.”

“Maglor?” Maedhros asked.

Iorthomes inclined her head.

Maedhros followed her gaze to his brother—now his only brother—already mounted up in Sirion’s main square. There was a child before him on Crabanil's withers. A second clung to his waist from behind.

Maglor set his jaw, chin lifting.

A thousand things passed between them in a glance, something deeper and more terrible than Osanwe, born of exposure, proximity, and love over long years of joy and pain. Maedhros let his brother see his snarl, but nodded once, sharply, and turned for his destrier.

“It’s all right,” Maglor murmured to the children.

Ahorse, Maedhros turned back to the three of them, and saw two small faces peering at him. Twins. The orc stabbing him had hurt less. To his brother, he snapped, “When you tell them you saved them, will you tell them what you saved them from?” Then he heeled his mount and headed for the east road.

Behind him, Maglor told the children, “It’s all right. He’s angry right now, but with me, not with you. And with Morgoth most of all, so probably he’ll find some orcs to hunt on the way home and feel better for it.”

Iorthomes said, “There’s no one alive who’s killed more monsters and fell creatures than Lord Maedhros.”

“Really?” one of the twins asked.

Maedhros’ teeth ground together, and he wheeled his horse to block his brother’s path. “Don’t paint me a hero, Kano,” he snarled in Quenya.

The twins both squeaked.

Maglor snorted. “No,” he agreed in the same tongue. “We’re both of us the villains in their story,” he acknowledged, nodding at the children he was still cradling gently. “But they’ve no one else, so if they deserve better, we shall just have to do the best we can.”

“What language is that?” one of them asked.

“It’s rude to talk about people when they can’t understand,” the other said.

Maglor’s mouth didn’t move, but he very clearly wanted to smile very badly.

Maedhros stared at the mouthy one hard for a moment. The child flinched, but didn’t look away. Maedhros let his smile crack his face. He knew the scar on his mouth, from the retreat from Himring, made the expression more ominous than friendly. “You’re right,” he said mildly in Sindarin. “But I wasn’t talking about you.”

“He was yelling at me about my poor life decisions,” Maglor agreed. “He does that sometimes.”

“Are you going to yell at us?” the mouthy one asked Maedhros.

Maedhros cocked an eyebrow, considering. “Probably,” he said, and then turned his horse to resume the march. “Not the least if you’re noisy in orc-territory, and get us caught by a raiding band.”

 “Are we in orc territory?” the quieter one asked softly.

“Not yet,” Iorthomes said kindly. “You’ll know.”

“He’s a soft touch really,” Maglor said. “You’ll see.”

Secure in the knowledge his back was to them, Maedhros rolled his eyes skyward in despair. Despite himself, something about the younglings made his spirits lift a little.