#hold your horses and wait your turn combined to create:

[tj-crochets]

Accidentally mixed idioms today and said "wait your damn horses" so work is going well lol

[whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon]

 "My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep. The more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite."

The night sky shimmered, the stars like thousands of tiny jewels against the black. You picked constellations from the vast expanse. He often told you stories, when you snuck out to the river bank to see him. He was warm at your side.

"I'm going to ask for your hand."

You turned to look at him."You think he'll say yes?"

"He'll have to. I've an army camped not ten miles away, and more money than all his vassals combined." He leans in, cupping your cheek, speaking softly, humor in his voice. "And if he says no, I'll bring that army to bear, and take you by force."

"You'd carry me off like some war prize? Throw me over the back of your horse and defile me in some dark hollow?" You playfully nipped at his ear.

He grinned, and pins you to the blanket, Gods, he was strong. "I've already done that, my heart."

"True. Try not to sound so smug."

"How can I not be? I'm about to have the most beautiful woman in the world as my wife."

"The most beautif- go spout your nonsense elsewhere, madman." You playfully smacked his arm. "There are hundreds of girls in that city who look like, like flowers in the morning sun and-"

"I'm not mad. I'm simply more perceptive than they are."

"Oh? And what do I look like to your superior perception?"

He grew serious. "Like an explosion of light to outshine the sun, refracted into every wonderful color. The poets haven't invented words for you yet."

You sat in silence.

"So what happens, after he says yes?"

"Well, first, I'm going to make love to you on a real bed, not a blanket on the ground."

You laughed. "And then?"

"And then, we're going to build an empire like the world has never seen."

---

"Of all the presences in the Warp to use as a beacon, you chose... An eleven year old girl?"

"I chose the brightest source of light that didn't reek of corruption. I chose the clearest voice. While I reconstructed my psyche, I shielded you from the influence of Chaos as well as detection by the Imperium."

"Wouldn't it have been safer to let the Black Ships take me?"

"No. Until my return, it was safer for you to remain away from Terra."

You weren't satisfied with that answer, but decided to probe a different line of questioning. "What's powering the Astronomican?"

"I am. I have been since it's construction."

You gasped. The magnitude of his power was still difficult to grasp. And yet you were disturbed. "If something happened to you... All those ships-'

"Would be lost in the Warp, yes. Prior to the Heresy, my goal was to create access to the ancient Aeldari Webway, a path through the Warp that didn't rely on me."

"But then the Heresy."

"Then the Heresy. It wasn't entirely unforseen. I worried from the beginning that any of the Primarchs could one day seek to challenge me. The Throne was one of many contingencies."

"And how did become free of it? You told me once it was holding back hordes of daemons."

"That is correct. For thousands of years, we were waiting for the Throne to fail, as all machines do, at which point, all of Terra would be destroyed. To avoid that eventuality, I began work reconstructing my mind within the Warp, scattered as it was. And then, a rift was created, a massive tear in the immaterium, to separate the forces of Chaos from the access point at the Throne."

"Terra, how did you do that?"

"I didn't. You did."

No.

"...what?" Your hand shook in his.

"I asked you, nearly a year ago, to unleash as much power as you could, in a single, great eruption. I pushed you for nearly ten years beforehand to gain the strength to do so, to fortify your mind against the reprecussions.You slept for a week after."

"I don't remember that. I didn't do that!"

"You did. I helped direct your blow, but the power, the skill, was yours. Before I sat the Throne, before the years of wear, I could have created the Rift using a fraction of my power. Weakened, I could do naught but hold the gate, power the Astronomican, and wait for it all to collapse. I knew creating the Rift would require a second psyker, but one of extraordinary power. The only other that could have accomplished such a feat was Malcador, and he... he perished. Upon the Throne, saving us all." His gaze was distant. "After you created the Rift, I altered your memories. I was afraid you would go mad after such a feat."

"You... You decieved me." Your voice sounded small. You felt small. Used.

"I acted in your best interest." His grip on your hand tightened, ever so slightly. "I need you to understand, you are young. What I asked of you was to deny Chaos itself, to give order to it's antithesis, your mind could have snapped."

You sat back in your chair. "How much don't I remember?"

"I'm not certain. Enough to keep you safe, and sane, and free of corruption." Neoth rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. "You are much more than a tool to me."

You listened to the sound of the fountain, the gurgling of the crystaline water, as you gazed into it's depths. Past the lily pads, a pair of golden fish lazily circled each other, their long fins fluttering. You weren't sure why you noticed them, only that at the moment, you found their tranquility deeply enviable.

"The Rift can't be permanent. The nature of the Warp is too malleable." You stated firmly, as though you were just having another lesson, and you were making another clever observation that would please him. You liked to please him.

"It's not. But you've bought us at least a few thousand years. The Imperium owes you a great debt. I owe you a great debt."

He smiled, warmly. "I believe, now, you may simply rest." He kissed your hand. "You'll be remaining here, of course, for your own safety, and mine. Your presence is... Somewhat nessesary as I finish rebuilding myself. Fragments of my conciousness remain in the Warp."

"You're... Not all here?"

"Not yet. But that's soon to be rectified, please don't trouble yourself. In the meantime, I want you to make this place your home. Any comfort, any boon you want is yours, simply ask."

"May I... May we continue our training? I know I've already, I suppose I've already served my purpose, but I'd like to learn more."

"Yes, if course, canım! Anything you'd like to learn. The Rift was not your purpose, it was simply the first of what I hope will be many wonderful achievements."

You smiled at this. There was more for you, after all. For some reason, you had expected to be discarded.

A strange look passed over his features."May I... Make a request of you?"

"You may."

"May I kiss you?"

Oh.

You weren't expecting that.

While you suspected he had come to care for you over the years, you had assumed, considering his nature, you were a pet, a favored student at best. This was a dimension of feeling you hadn't dared to entertain. You blinked owlishly at him, as your mind blanked.

"I'm... Oh. Yes." Well, that was a terribly elegant response.

He pulled you into his lap, one hand ran up your thigh to your waist, while the other tangled in your hair, tipping your head back. When your lips met, it was soft, and heartbreakingly gentle. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

He deepens the kiss, stroking your lower back, humming contentedly into your mouth. You weren't sure how long you were locked together. It could have been a few seconds, it could have been hours. When you broke apart at last, and you recovered your breath, you struggled for words. "I... I'll be honest, I'm not sure what's happening."

"Surely you must have sensed my feelings." His expression was bemused.

"You're very good at hiding your feelings, cradle snatcher."

"Cradle snatcher?!"

"Saying you're too old for me is beyond an understatement."

"Does it disturb you? Our ages?"

You considered it. "You've lived more lives than I can count. You're... You're the Emperor of Man, it's rather like me taking up with an ant."

"No, not at all. I'm still a man, canım. I can still love you as a man does."

Love.

"And what would you expect of me?"

"You speak of us as though we're a trade negotiation."

"I come from a port planet. Everything is a trade negotiation."

"Very well. I will give you anything in the galaxy you could possibly desire, planets, fleets of ships, every comfort, every scrap of knowledge will be at your fingertips, as well as my everlasting affections, and all that entails. I receive your loyalty and companionship for the rest of your days."

You tried to consider your situation. You had always harboured affection for him. Platonic, romantic, paternal, passionate like fire, all became one in the Warp, where minds melded, and nothing was more intimate than that. But here, it seemed far too real, to finite and final. Could you dare refuse him? Did you even want to? You didn't, really. He was everything to you, now.

You tried to use the intellect you had been honing since childhood, to dissect the situation logically, but his hand was on your thigh, and the other hand was moving downward toward your ass and all you could think about was how nice it would feel if your clothes weren't in the way and maybe he should kiss you again and-

"Canım?"

"Mmm. Yes."

"Oh. Just yes?"

"...Yes." Like that, you had answered. You should have taken time to consider it, but you also knew you didn't need to.

He smiled again. You were growing so fond of his smiles, the gentle crinkle in the corners of his dark eyes, and especially the way they glinted.

"The title of Empress is yours, of course, if you'd like to take it. I'd like it if you did."

"Don't we have to get married for that?" You coiled a lock of his hair around your fingers.

"I'm the Emperor. If I say you are my Empress, then you are."

You snorted, then burst into a fit a laughter.

"What's so amusing?"

"I was imagining what my oldest brother might say, if I told him his sister was the Empress of Mankind. I heard his voice, he told me, "I don't care if you hung the stars, you can't have the bigger bedroom."

I sigh escaped your lips. "I miss him. I miss all of them."

"I know you do, precious one." His voice was soothing as he rubbed your shoulders. "If I could undo every pain done to you, I would. I'll see to it you want for nothing, from this day forth."

His smile faded. "The report I received, of the events on your homeworld, troubled me. You were in danger?"

"I encountered agents of Chaos, yes. The ship arrived just in time."

"I also heard you eliminated a number of them yourself?"

"I did. Though it wasn't heroic by any stretch of the imagination, just desperation."

He hummed. "As long as you're safe, I don't care."

You sat curled in his arms for a long time, listening to the sounds of the garden. Your situation had changed so quickly. There would come a moment, you were sure, when the weight would catch up with you, and you might just collapse under the unbelievability of it all. But for now, you were content.

"Will you show me the garden?"

"Of course, canım. You'll have to forgive my speed, there are snails in here that move faster than I do at the moment."

You took his arm, and began to tell you stories of Old Terra, of the plants and animals who now lived only in his memory - and this garden.

Scarlet macaws were your favorite.

They mated for life.

---

On Absen, water had been a precious enough commodity that baths were practically a myth. The wealthy could afford them, but you had a bucket and rags, most days. You thought of that while you were submerged up to your chin in warm water that smelled of lavender and lilies, in a bathtub ten feet across.

After you and Neoth walked the gardens, you spoke at length about your situation, about the Warp, about nothing at all, until a Custodian called him a way for some urgent business, and he left you to your chambers with a kiss on the cheek and promise to see you that night.

Your chambers were connected to his. He'd had them built before he'd even told you that you'd be coming to Terra. You had your own bedchamber, and parlor, and bathroom, but the shared sitting room, the private access to his own chambers, it made you wonder what would have happened of you told him no.

You shook away the thought and sunk even further into the water.

The door opened and closed, and you opened one eye to see a servant, red haired, freckled, with a cheery disposition, carrying a stack of fabric.

"I've brought fresh towels and a dressing gown, My Lady."

"Thank you. What's your name?"

"Leona, My Lady. I'm your Lady in Waiting." She beamed with pride."Well, one of them, anyway."

"That's a lovely name." You quickly wrapped yourself in the plush towel as you exited the bath, shivering at the chilly air.

"My mother said it meant courage, or something. I can't quite remember. She died when I very young."

"I don't remember my mother at all." All you had were descriptions from your family.

"My apologies, My Lady, I didn't mean to being up bad memories."

"There's nothing to apologize for." You smiled in what you hoped was a reassuring way. You didn't have much of a way with people.

Leona helped you put on the dressing gown, then seated you at the vanity in your bedroom so she could brush your hair. You insisted repeatedly that you didn't need to be fussed over, but she'd hear none of it.

"None of the noble women of Terra dress their own hair. It would be downright disgraceful for you to be deprived!"

"I've done all this myself my entire life."

She paused, the brush halfway through your tresses. "Really?"

"I'm no noble woman, Leona."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Then how... We all assumed you must have been from... I apologize again that was too bold of me."

"Nonsense, I'm... Still coming to terms with the situation myself."

"That does explain why Lady Symren was so nasty today. Well, more so than usual."

"She seems to dislike me."

"She dislikes most people. And having to bow to someone who she thinks is... Low born, well, I'm sure it wounded her ego. But don't worry about it a bit! Her, or anyone else playing politics in the Palace. They wouldn't dare lay a hand on you. Besides, even if she is unpleasant, she's trustworthy to a fault. She's loyal to the Emperor, and if he chose you, she'll trust his judgement."

You weren't so sure about that. The cult that followed Neoth had developed some alarmingly strong opinions about what he thought, and you weren't sure at the point, having seen the fanatics yourself, that even words from his own mouth could change their minds.

"Do you trust his judgement?"

She stopped again. You didn't know if she realized you were probing her loyalties, but you weren't subtle.

"Of course. He's the God Emperor. He protects us all."

An intentionally vague answer. You sensed some level of deception, but it would have to wait until later. She finished with your hair. "There, all done. You have very pretty hair, My Lady."

"Thank you."

"I'll be available if you need me, simply ring, My Lady."

You spent a few hours exploring your joint rooms, after discovering from the Custodians outside the antechamber that you weren't allowed to leave. You considered trying to give them an order, but your courage shriveled and you knew you had already been overruled.

Your rooms were finely wrought and richly furnished, the footstool alone was probably worth a fortune. And the books. He had gifted you a library, having heard your many complaints over the years about the lack of reading material on Absen. You noted, fondly, that all of the titles were topics of interest to you. The hangings around the bed were your favorite color, and the fresh blooms left on the vanity were of a variety you'd loved to admire at the market. His, while no less elegant, was sparse, devoid of personal touches. You supposed it made since for a room that hadn't been used in so long.

It was strange. You'd known him, confided in him, and nurtured affection for him for years but he still felt in so many ways like a stranger. A stranger you were practically married to now.

You turned back to the bookshelf.

You were reclined on the sofa in the sitting room with a tome of history and a cup of tea when Neoth entered. You could tell from the hard set of his face and the miasma of frustration rolling off of him that he was in a bad mood, though his expression softened when he saw you.

"My dearest heart." He kissed you on the cheek as he sat beside you.

"Is everything alright?"

He pondered for a moment. "No. It is not."

"Will you tell me about it?"

He gave you an odd look. "I've shown you the world before the Heresy. I awoke to the bloated, festering corpse of my Imperium floating through a galaxy mired in pointless, nigh unendable war. I feel as though I must fight war after war, each time I unite even a portion of our species it breaks apart again. It will take thousands of years to even begin to repair the damage. Each day is a trial. But we will persevere. Humanity always does."

He sighed and looked at you. "At least you're here now."

"I certainly hope you aren't relying on me to help you too much, bureaucracy only makes me want to start exploding heads, which I don't believe is conducive to establishing peace."

"On the contrary, one doesn't improve the quality of one's crop by tolerating bitter fruit. But no, you need not worry about the state of the Imperium, your talents are useful elsewhere."

"Being a decoration in your bed chamber, chiefly." You coyly glanced at him from the corner of your eye. "Since I'm locked in."

"Wise men keep their valubles under lock and key. Especially valuables prone to dangerous curiosity."

"I thought my curiosity was one of your favorite things about me!"

"It is. And you can satiate it here, where nothing can harm you and no one can see you."

"Am I a secret?"

He grimaced. "Yes, and a poorly kept one already. The whole bloody Palace is aflame with rumours, more so than usual. Let's speak more of this tomorrow, I've had enough political nonsense for one day, it's late."

He grasped his cane, but before he stood, he looked to you. "I... Understand if you wish to spend the night in your own room, but my bed is always open to you." He then disappeared through the door at the other side of the sitting room.

You were preparing for bed, when your malcontent became too much to ingore. He was halfway into his own bed when you appeared in the doorway, dressed only in the thinnest nightgown you could find. Neoth stopped and stared.

You practically charged forward, leaping onto the mattress beside him, and pulling him into a deep kiss. You cursed your inexperience and hoped you were doing it right.

His hand had just traveled to the hem of your gown when you pulled away and stopped him. "I want to leave these rooms."

"Canım..."

"No. I understand I can't go everywhere, but I want a little freedom."

"You'll have to take guards with you. And if there's a hint of trouble they'll bring you right back here, by force if necessary."

"Deal."

"Negotiations again?"

"Everything is negotiations. Everything is about power in the end, in one form or another, even sex."

Neoth narrowed his eyes as he removed his own robe. "You payed too much attention during your lessons. But you've already lost."

You didn't realize he'd grabbed you until your back hit the mattress and you were looking up at him, your shoulders pinned under his weight.

"It doesn't matter what you'd asked for. I'm getting everything I want."

Your nightgown fluttered to the floor alongside his robe. Your bare chests pressed together, and you were painfully aware of his hips between yours. A languorous heat bloomed in your stomach. Neoth began kissing his way down your neck, and it felt like fire against your skin.

"Canım..." He purred, and his hand slid from your shoulder downward.

You gasped, he grinned, and turned the light out.

His mind opened to yours, and crashed upon you like a wave. You entwined, like some sort of mythic serpents, as you always had. This time, however, the usual warmth burned like a star and time disappeared.

---

Later, much later, when you lay on his chest, both of you panting, you raised your head, "Are you absolutely certain you got the better end of that deal?"

"I'm certain. Now go to sleep, it's long past sunset."

You nestled into him, gazing out the large window into the sky. The light pollution on Terra made the stars, and all the ancient constellations, invisible, but you knew they were there all the same, sparkling like jewels in the black.

The thought was comforting, and you slipped into a dreamless sleep for the first time in your life.

(I've earned my nickname.)

-Long Anon

.

[nnightskiess]

𝐳𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

₊° - 𝐳𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

₊° - 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: y/n isn't too keen on letting zoya go on her journey through the fold and arrives at the encampment late at night to ease her worries.

please do not copy, republish, translate or reproduce this imagine on wattpad or on other platforms. respect the author's work <3

when word got round in the little palace that a spot for a grisha healer in the second army opened up for the supply run through the fold, y/n wasted no time and offered to go. they had applauded her for her willingness and bravery, but all y/n could think about was seeing that one gorgeous sqauller again, who quite literally blew her away the moment they first met.

zoya nazyalensky's striking blue eyes had captivated y/n the moment they locked with hers and hadn't it been for the squaller looking away, y/n was sure she'd still be lost in them. y/n deemed zoya to be one of the prettiest girls in os olta and the little palace combined, but her beauty was not the only thing about her that had made y/n unable to get the girl out of her head.

zoya was a squaller, a grisha able to manipulate the wind and air, but zoya also possessed a big fire in her belly, one that was almost always quite present. it helped her to the top, but was also one of the qualities that had a tendency to make her intimidating or feared. y/n however, looked right through it and never stepped back whenever zoya would raise her voice or squint her eyes just long enough for other grisha to leave her alone. and exactly that had caught zoya's attention.

training was going terrible, the new squallers seemed to lack the confidence and passion that was needed for combat training. botkin had been so frustrated that he let some of the older grisha take the task and train them. y/n had watched from the sides as zoya visibly grew more annoyed at the youngsters and bit her lip when that same frustration finally caught up with her,

"enough! come back when you're worthy of wearing that kefta or don't show your face again!" she sent a large gush of air their way, making everyone's kefta's blow up in the wind before she turned around, letting out a quick breath through her nose.

y/n approached, a tiny smirk on her face. she'd waited to the sides to see how long it would take to crack the girl's patience. zoya wasn't a quitter, but her tough love seemed to worsen the children's performances even more.

zoya felt a presence behind her and turned around with a sneer as she sent another wave of wind behind her.

"i said-"

y/n was sent against the wall before she landed on the earth with a thud.

zoya tried to hide her initial surprise and gave the girl a once over, tilted her chin and crossed her arms, "what do you want?" she wasn't in the mood to apologize and kept her arms crossed, not even bothering to help the girl up.

y/n dusted her kefta off and tried to delay her reply, which she knew was frustrating zoya even more. y/n finally looked up, a cheeky smile on her face as she spoke,

"you could be sent away for that... we aren't allowed to use our powers here, did you forget?"

"look around- do you see anyone here?"

zoya was right- most boys and girls had silently left the training facility after zoya's outburst and botkin was probably downing a glass of kvas to drink away his frustrations of the day.

"because you scared them all away."

zoya put her nose up in disdain and turned back around- she didn't have time for this cocky know-it-all girl. she rolled her eyes as y/n followed her around the courtyard, getting slightly annoyed,

"i'm not sure if you have it in you, but maybe next time try and ease up on the tough love? be kind for a chance?"

"it's not what works best. do you think they'll be coddled when they're part of the second army? you healers are too sensitive. you should consider changing that or this world is going to eat you up."

"too sensitive?" y/n tried to hide the hurt in her voice and shook it off, "you don't know the injuries i've had to heal, the pain and gore i've seen. you should consider changing your mind on healers. without us, we'd be off way worse."

zoya had been annoyed at y/n's challenging rebuttal at first, but would later realise it wasn't out of lack of respect that y/n didn't seem to falter under her hard glares, it was because of the intrigue and adoration she held for her. if she backed down like all the others, she would never get a chance to break down zoya's walls.

eyerolls out of annoyance faded into playful eyerolls and zoya quickly realised that y/n would be one of those people her superiors had told her about all those years ago when she was first brought to the little palace. in order to not succumb to the stress of being a grisha, let alone one in the second army, one needs companions. companions you trust to have your back, companions to share your worries with and companions to help you see the light in difficult situations, even in the dark of the fold. and a loyal companion y/n became.

zoya was less hostile to the healer than she was to anyone else and people soon caught on. to not lose her air of intimidation, she tried to keep her soft smiles to a minimum and playfully pestered y/n whenever she could- even though no one but the two knew it was playful- only to get a joking sneer back in return, which never failed to crack the tiniest grin on the squaller's face.

"why do you look ready to leave?" y/n suddenly appeared in the doorway of zoya's suite. "planning to run away?" she joked but her worries grew as zoya didn't reply.

zoya didn't look up and instead continued to prepare her bag. y/n noticed that she was wearing the good luck charm she'd given the girl to wear whenever she had to go on a difficult or risky mission. a silent promise to both, if you will, to make sure whatever would happen would turn out alright. y/n's smile faltered,

"where are they sending you off to?"

"kribirsk, i'm going to help sail the skiff for a supply run to ketterdam."

"you're going through the fold?!" y/n took haste steps into the room and stopped right behind zoya, "why haven't i heard about this?! when are you supposed to cross it?!"

zoya let out a sigh and looked up, her hands placed on her hips, "stop it. i'll be fine," she went back to folding her clothes, "you know it's not my first time."

"no, but every time might as well be your last!"

y/n pulled at zoya's arm to make her stop, the squaller immediately glared at her. she hated when y/n became worried, it always intensified the worries she was already feeling herself, even if she would never tell anyone.

"i'll be fine, i promise."

"what happens there isn't really up to you... besides, i just don't like sitting here and waiting in agony for a word from you telling me you survived."

zoya finally gave in, she couldn't hold up her front any longer as she looked into y/n's worried eyes. she let out a deep sigh and rubbed her forehead before her hands dropped to her neck. she grabbed the talisman and held it up, "this'll protect me."

"zoya, it's not some-"

"no. it will. you said it would. i trust you. now, will you trust me? i'll be back before you know it." zoya softly stroked y/n's cheek with the back of her finger, something she did when the girl needed reassurance and comfort. "i'll come back, y/n."

the two women stared at each other for a long time, exchanging silent promises. but y/n's sudden movement caught zoya off guard, and before she could realise the girl had softly planted her lips against her own, y/n had already retreated.

"write to me."

zoya nodded absentmindedly, her head still stuck in the moment before.

"-and you better come back in one piece, nazyalensky."

zoya nodded again, this time less distracted, and she pulled y/n back when the girl made a move to walk out before planting a soft kiss on the girl's cheek.

"i will. or else you'll just have to patch me up again."

but zoya's nerves proved to be more difficult to contain now that y/n wasn't around, even if the girl had a tendency to sometimes make them worse with her worries. she knew she had promised to write, but what was she going to write down? how scared she really was? what would that do to calm y/n's nerves- both their nerves? not to mention that the confident squaller had felt insecure ever since their tiny kiss. was she supposed to write a different letter? was y/n expecting her to? or were they still just friends? or would it only upset y/n if she wrote to her like friends would?

so, zoya thought it was best to just not write at all, to spare both their feelings. but y/n, who had been waiting for a letter in the little palace, had gone mad after a few days. she hadn't received a letter noting zoya's arrival, neither had zoya written her one to tell her when the journey to west-ravka would take place. she felt awfully left in the dark, even if she knew the second army had arrived at the encampment through a general at the palace, she needed to hear it from zoya. or had she scared the squaller off? was the girl regretting their moment? had she lost zoya completely now, even as a friend? she needed to know.

the only worries she felt when the horses pulled the carriage over the roads to the encampment, were the worries about zoya, not about the voyage she was going to have to take through the darkness. after all, she'd have zoya by her side, who would undoubtedly try to protect her if needed, who could calm her down with just a look her way, just like how y/n would be there to heal and support if the situation asked for it.

y/n was assigned a tent with the other corporalki, but could care less about settling in for a good night's sleep. she needed to find zoya's tent first. she needed to see her at least once before setting foot on the ship the next morning.

the torches lit up the campsite and created eerie shadows on the surrounding tents, sometimes even forming into a shadow that looked way too similar to the volcra whose screams and cries filled the air now and then. y/n shook it off and walked along.

she finally heard zoya's familiar soft voice behind a tent's fabric to her left and a guy clad in the clothes of a tracker walked out a few seconds later. it slightly confused y/n, but she walked to the entrance of the now pitch black tent nonetheless.

"zoya?" she whispered out softly, still a bit unsure if she'd actually been right about hearing the girl's voice. what if this was someone else's tent?

"anyone here?" she called again, her eyes now slightly adjusting to the lack of light. a shadow moved to her left before she fell to her knees as all the air in her lungs disappeared. someone had her in a headlock.

"zoya! it's me! it's me, y/n!" she coughed and heaved, clawing at her throat for air. she heard the squaller gasp as fresh air filled her lungs once again. a candle was lit a second after, which barely illuminated the tent, but enough for zoya to see her friend on the floor.

"what are you doing here?!" she hissed, her panic replaced by anger almost instantly, anger that stemmed out of worry for the girl. y/n being there could only mean one thing...

"i had to see you." y/n accepted the help of zoya and was put to sit on the girl's bed. "you promised you'd write... why didn't you?"

zoya ignored the question and fired a question of her own the healer's way, "why are you here? i doubt they let you go without a reason."

y/n refused to make eye contact, but zoya refused to give in and forcefully grabbed the girl's chin. y/n expected to see the squaller's eyebrows knitted together in anger or worry, or both, and a sneer on her face, but was instead met with a look she couldn't quite place, one she barely ever saw. if y/n wanted an answer, she would have to answer zoya first.

"they needed a healer."

"on the supply run?"

y/n nodded meekly but kept looking at zoya's features, trying to decipher what she was thinking.

"y/n, you shouldn't have... not after-"

"i know. i know i had to watch my friends get torn apart last time, while i sat there and couldn't help all of them at once, i know- but zoya- if something were to happen to you and i wouldn't be able to at least try and help you out, i would never be able to let it go."

zoya's grasp on y/n's chin loosened until she finally let go and dropped her hands on her lap. but they didn't feel right there so she immediately grabbed onto one of y/n's, giving it a light squeeze.

"you didn't write to me. that usually means you're either worried and don't want to worry me or... well... after, you know... i thought you might've..."

zoya squeezed again, telling the girl she didn't need to talk further, she knew exactly what she meant.

"i know something has shifted between us, but i don't regret it. that wasn't why i didn't write...well, it was." she continued when y/n rose an eyebrow in confusion, "i was afraid you might've regretted it."

"no, i-"

"it doesn't matter, you shouldn't have come." zoya's walls were back up again in a snap of her fingers and she let go and sat up, immediately shielding herself from whatever rejection about to come her way.

"zoya-"

"it's probably best if we both get some rest."

y/n looked to see if zoya was slightly joking but pursed her lips together when she saw the girl's blank face.

"fine." the healer jumped up and stormed out of the tent, throwing the entrance drape shut so harshly that the tiny candle went out, which left zoya by herself in the dark of the night. at least it would let her get used to the dark that was waiting for her on the end of the encampment.

y/n buttoned and unbuttoned her crimson kefta multiple times, a nervous habit of hers, but kept them buttoned when the horn indicated it was time to go. had it been worth it? offering to cross the fold just to talk to zoya? only for her to get the cold shoulder? no. but at least now she was able to protect the girl.

she walked onto the sandskiff along with other grisha and, this time, cartographers, and immediately locked eyes with zoya, who was already stationed at the front. zoya looked regal, standing there, with her chin held high and her hands behind her back, almost as if she owned the sandskiff. to others, she might've looked cocky, but not to y/n.

zoya's eyes inspected everyone who walked onto the ship and thus also landed on y/n's. but, while she'd lightly glared at everyone, her glare softened when she looked at her friend. she dipped her head in acknowledgement. what y/n didn't know, was that while zoya had tried her best to pretend that y/n wouldn't be going on the supply run, seeing her step onto the skiff had broken that fairytale thought and had made her slightly break out an uneasy sweat. y/n's talisman was hidden under her kefta, but zoya could still feel it pressing against her chest. it calmed her down a little, but not enough, certainly not when the ship started moving and y/n was not on the docks staying behind.

screeches and yells of those terrible beasts were the first things to welcome them into the fold before the clear morning sky finally turned black and the air turned cold. the volcra sounded distant though, so as long as they kept quiet and in the dark, there wouldn't be a reason to panic.

zoya glanced y/n's way every now and then. even if there still wasn't trouble in the air, she just needed to reassure herself that the girl was okay. same for y/n- she kept glancing to the front of the skiff to see zoya's eyes illuminate in the blue of the tiny lantern. zoya's eyes never failed to calm her down, but looking into them now brought her even greater comfort. or discomfort...if she thought long enough about what happened last time she crossed the fold.

the wind howled, the wooden skiff creaked and thunder filled the sky. the occasional lightning lit up their surroundings and showed the shipwrecks from previous supply runs, a great reminder to everyone on board that they should count themselves lucky if they survived this crossing.

"marker one...."

"how many more are there?" a cartographer girl dared to ask and y/n closed her eyes, knowing the answer wouldn't satisfy her.

"thirty-seven."

y/n's hands clasped around the sleeves of her kefta as she hugged herself. only twelve more markers and she'd reach the place where it all happened last time.

barely one marker later and the growling and screeching sounds of the approaching volcra made everyone tense up. one volcra made a close appearance, which made everyone either duck or ready their guns. it was eerily silent after that. y/n tried not to look at the frightened faces of everyone else and instead tried to count, but that proved to make her even more nervous after another volcra screeched nearby- they weren't going fast enough.

zoya felt suffocated when the blue lantern, which was meant to be their little safe haven during their crossing, dimmed. however, the real panic set in when it became pitch black and she lost all sight of y/n. the deck suddenly lit up by the orange hue of a lantern one cartographer boy had set alight in panic, which illuminated y/n's pretty face with an orange tint, but zoya was anything but relieved. this wasn't a good thing. at all.

"blow it out! what are you doing?!"

all hell broke loose when the lantern attracted volcra, who were now surrounding the sandskiff, flying over it to wait for the perfect opportunity to catch their prey. if that wasn't bad enough, the lantern had fallen over and a small fire was starting to eat away at the wooden deck, making it even harder for everyone on board to hide. people were being picked up by the creatures and all y/n seemed to be able to do was freeze. last time she'd been running from left to right to try and help aid the people on board, but even when she had prepared herself for this outcome this time, no muscle in her body seemed to want to move. she didn't know what hurt her ears more- the gunshots, the screeching of those terrible monsters or the agonizing yells from the people on deck. one thing stood out through those yells- a pained yelp coming from no other than zoya made her head shoot up to where she thought she'd heard it.

zoya had watched y/n tense up from her side of the ship and was well aware that past memories were probably troubling her mind, making her unable to get to work. all worries or insecurities were thrown out the window once she realised she needed to keep y/n safe. a volcra had dived to pick her up right as she made a move to run to the healer, but a shove from one of the other grisha had saved her life. her shoulder broke the fall and one of her hands met the flames, making her cry out in pain.

this did the trick and burst the healer's bubble. y/n crawled across the deck, trying to stay as low as possible, and gritted her teeth whenever she came too close to the fire and the heat became painful. zoya noticed her approach and tried to move closer too, only to grasp her shoulder in pain.

"ssssh, i'm here, i'm here, let me-" y/n stammered in a panic as she looked at the damage. she gently stroke her fingers over zoya's burns first. zoya threw her head back at the initial pain and incredibly annoying itch that followed, but let out a shaky chuckle out of relief when the pain subdued before eventually fading away.

they weren't out of danger yet and the volcra hovering above them proved exactly why. zoya's eyes widened as she watched it approach over y/n's shoulder and she pulled the girl on top of her in a tight embrace. the movement made her grit her teeth in pain, her shoulder still hurt like hell, but at least the volcra had missed this chance. she saw it circle around, waiting to pounce once more. she reached for the gun beside her when it turned around, ready for another try. but zoya didn't give it one and directed a shot at its chest, which caught the beast off guard and gave the perfect opportunity to one of the escorts on the ship to finish him off with another shot.

"are you alri-"

"go! get inside!" zoya gently pushed the girl off of her again.

"you're hurt, let me-"

"i need to help send this skiff back. go!"

"it'll only be-"

"we don't have time! i can handle a broken shoulder but i will never forgive myself if something happened to you!" zoya yelled back over the chaos and was supported by another squaller who pulled her to the other side of the deck. y/n sat there, baffled. a harsh force of wind made y/n's hair blow up and the ship started to move again. a young man, one of their escorts, ran up to her, pulled her on her feet and guided her inside.

there she sat, waiting, while a mix of screams, screeches, thunder and gunshots made for a horrifying mix of sounds, while she couldn't do a thing, while zoya was bait up there...

a light so bright beamed through the cracks and holes of the wood and even from her cover, y/n had to shield her eyes.

silence. complete, utter silence. no more volcra, no more shouting or gunshots needed. the wind that the squallers created to send them back home was a comforting sound to y/n's ears and it was all she wanted to focus on as she knew they were going back.

the darkness soon turned to light again. the sky had changed back and was filled with puffy clouds as the air grew more pleasant to inhale. they were back, they were safe. but still, y/n kept seated, not wanting to go out and see the damage. not again.

yes, the sandskiff had returned home, which meant that squallers had sent it back, but zoya had been out there for a while even before the light. going out there meant there was a possibility she was going to receive the news that zoya hadn't made it.

"i need a healer here! quick!"

y/n wiped her teary eyes that were still burning from the smoke, pushed the stray hairs out of her face and stood up. she was not going to let people suffer just because she was afraid of facing her fears. she let herself fall onto her knees next to a cartographer girl whose leg still sizzled from a terrible burn. she seemed pretty out of it- her head lulled as a cold sweat coated her face.

"hey, you're going to be alright. i'm y/n, i'm a healer." she tried to reassure her, even if she was unsure if the girl could even hear her at this point, "i'm going to have to touch it, but it's going to get better after that. i promise. try to sit as still as you can so it won't scar." she went to work and saw the girl's eyes flutter open. "see?" the girl nodded and sent a tired smile her way. that was enough of a thank you for y/n and she immediately stood up to try and see where she was needed next.

zoya had climbed her way down as soon as she could and panic filled her when she couldn't find y/n anywhere. this was where she'd seen the boy take her to?! but as she walked back, she saw the girl tending to a wounded man and a sigh of relief left her mouth. she watched y/n stand up,

"can you tend to my shoulder next?"

y/n's head whipped around at the familiar voice, and even if it sounded hoarse and tired, she could still hear a playful undertone.

"thank the saints! you're alright!" y/n went in for a hug but reminded herself of zoya's injured shoulder and squeezed the girl's hand instead.

"who else sent us back?" zoya smiled tiredly and let y/n pull her out off the chaos on the ship to be sat down on the docks. the healer helped her out of her kefta and zoya noticed y/n was trying to suppress a meek smile at the sight of the talisman that clung around zoya's neck.

zoya closed her eyes as y/n's soft hands made contact with her bare shoulder and she only dared to open them again once the pain was replaced by the familiar feeling of a healing itch. she grabbed the healer's hand and intertwined their fingers.

"are you still hurting?"

zoya let out a breathy chuckle and shook her head, "no, i believe i'm fine now. just a bit shaken."

y/n nodded and stared off into the distance, she knew exactly what zoya meant. a soft tug on her hand made her look back at the blue eyed girl.

"i'm sorry."

"zoya nazyalensky saying sorry? that's a first."

"hush you, i'm serious. don't make me regret this." zoya rolled her eyes, glad to have this y/n back. for a second, back in the fold, when she saw y/n so tensed up as she was reliving her trauma, zoya was afraid she might never get her back, if they were to even get out of the fold alive. but here she was, holding the girl's hand and staring into her eyes. she was here. with her.

"it was wrong of me to downplay your worries when i knew where they stemmed from. you've had to go through that, see that happen... and it was only fair of you to fear my departure. i should've written to you and-"

"zoya, it's quite-"

"let me finish." a light squeeze in her hand and a somewhat serious glare from zoya made y/n shut up, "i also shouldn't have treated you like i did last night. but can you try to imagine the worry i felt when i realised you were going to do the crossing? if something happened to you, that would've been because of me. you were on that ship because i was there, because i didn't write back."

"i would've taken the offer even if you had written to me, to be quite honest..."

zoya rolled her eyes, "of course you would've."

"zoya, when will you understand that i'll always try to have your back?

"but why must you put yourself in harm's way to do so?"

"because that's just how it goes!" y/n squeezed zoya's hand this time, trying to get her message across. "we're companions remember?"

zoya smiled softly and put a strand of hair behind y/n's ear before she wiped away the dirt on the girl's temple. her fingers then travelled down the girl's cheek and jaw before resting there, "i think we're more than companions, don't you think?" her striking blue eyes then looked directly into y/n's, immediately captivating the girl like she was some siren trying to lure her into the pools of her eyes.

"are we?" y/n's voice was small.

"have you forgotten about kissing me already? should you need a reminder?"

"no- i haven't, i remember!" her cheeks turned scarlet as zoya tilted her head in a playful manner. oh gods, how stupid could she be. "i mean, i don't. a reminder would be nice?" the meekness of y/n's voice warmed zoya up and she stroked the girl's bottom lip with the pad of her thumb,

"you sure?"

y/n nodded, but that wasn't what would satisfy zoya.

"talk. use your voice."

"yes, i'm sure."

zoya lifted her chin and looked at her in a way only she could, but it wasn't disrespectful at all. she looked at y/n as if she was the only girl in the world, but even if she wasn't, she'd still pick her. she'd pick her as a friend, a companion, or whatever they were going to be next.

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Hey 👋

How are you?

Could I please request a king Arthur prompt when he first starts courting his partner but originally they cant stand him like they think hes too cocky but he worms his way into their heart 🥰

Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + for language, a little angst.

Masterlist 

The Queen 

“Arthur, you could have any girl in the entire realm at your fingertips; why did you have to choose this one?” Wet Stick sighs, watching from under his cloak and cursing his friend for his taste in women. “He couldn’t just pick one of those nice noble ladies; he had to pick a headstrong girl with a chip on her shoulder,” he grumbles to himself. 

You locked up the shop behind you and take off home, turning once to wave into the shadows knowing the knight is there watching. He emerges on a large brown horse, coming to walk beside you. “Good Evening, Sir Tristan; how was your day today?” you smile up at him, and he laughs with a shake of his head. 

“How do you always know where I am, my Lady?” You reach into your knapsack and pull out a warm cheese roll wrapped in cloth, handing it up to him. “Thank you, ma’am,” he unwraps it and takes a large bite, moaning at the taste. “Is this why he wants to marry you? Because of how delicious your baking is? Honestly, if the King weren’t enamored with you, I’d probably ask you myself,” he laughs. 

You groan, pulling your green cloak above your head. “Sir Tristan, how many times must I ask that you call me by my name? I am no lady, just a baker, no one special.” 

“The King would disagree.” You cringe and walk a little faster towards the warmth of your cottage. “He thinks you’re the most beautiful maiden in the entire Kingdom, and Arthur always gets what he wants, and that’s you, my lady.” You stop and glare at him; he holds his hands up in defense using your name. 

“Why would I want that cocky, overbearing brute of a man to marry me? He can go to hell for all I care.” Tristan doesn’t take offense like other knights because he knows how overbearing his friend can be. It’d been amusing to see Arthur fall for the beautiful, headstrong woman. Every flower ended up in the trash, letter burnt, and request for an audience denied. Arthur was close to giving up on courting the woman, but something was holding him back. 

“Have I ever told you what he was like growing up?” You roll your eyes, already dreading the tale that is sure to highlight only the King’s good points. 

“No,” you mumble, “but I’m sure it some heroic tale.” He barks out a laugh, and you stop to watch him, “what’s so funny?” 

“What do you know about the King? Honestly, tell me,” he jumps down from the horse and grabs the reins walking beside you. “Because if that’s your opinion, then you don’t know him at all.” 

You think about all you know about the King and realize with an ache in your belly that you didn’t know much about the King besides the rumors you’d heard. “Well,” you stumble, “he’s arrogant...uhm, he doesn’t care about anyone but himself...and,” you struggle to come up with something else, much to Tristan’s amusement. 

“Arthur was raised in a brothel,” you pause, raising a brow, “I’m telling the truth. When his parents were murdered, he floated down the river in a boat and was found by the prostitutes washing their clothes by the river. They took him in and raised him. He, in turn, grew up and protected them. The brothel was one of the only places in all of Londinium that women were treated with respect. If someone got too handsy with one of the girls, Arthur would beat them within an inch of their life before they’d even think to disrespect a woman like that. Then he’d take all their money and give it to the girl.” 

“He’s also really smart, smarter than the lot of us, at least. He had coffers hidden in the wall of the brothel behind a bookshelf. He dreamed of getting out and buying himself a piece of land, building a home. The girls would all be taken care of and wouldn’t have to be prostitutes anymore. He was damn close too before we found out he was the born King.” You mull over his words and keep walking closer towards your home. 

“How did he feel about becoming the born King?” you ask quietly. 

Tristan smiles, rubbing the snout of his horse affectionately. “He hated it. Didn’t want anything to do with the sword or being King. It wasn’t until he saw his friends being attacked, the Black Legs had us surrounded, outnumbered; there was no way we could win the fight. Arthur begged us to run away, that he was what they wanted, he was ready to die for us. Arthur embraced Excalibur and killed them all, saving us. He’s loyal to a fault that one. Then when Back Lack-” he takes a shuddering breath, and you reach out and rub his arm. 

“If it’s too painful, you don’t have to say.” He wipes at his eyes with his cloak and smiles at you. 

“No, I won’t let his memory fade because it makes me sad to talk about him. Back Lack was our friend, and Vortigern murdered him in front of his son and Arthur. Blue screamed, and I can still hear his wails in my head; Arthur took his son in and has become like a father to him.” You think of the young boy who follows behind the King and smiles. 

You reach the door of your cottage and put your hand on the knob, dropping your head to the door with a sigh. “What does he say about me?” you ask, turning to look at the Knight, “I know he’s must have told you why he is trying so hard to court me.” 

Tristan smiles, seeing the small crack in your cleverly crafted armor. “While you may not know the King at all, he knows everything about you. I dare say he’s in love with you.” 

You search his eyes for any lie and sigh, opening the door and stepping inside. “Wait here for a moment, please,” he nods, and you close the door behind you. Emerging a few moments later in one of your clean dresses and a light blue cloak of fine fabric the King had gifted you, too delicate for you to throw into the trash. “Take me to him, please,” you ask, pulling the cloak over your head. 

“Yes, my lady,” Tristan smiles, mounting his horse and reaching a hand out to pull you up behind him. He rides swift to the looming gates of the palace, and the heavy wooden doors creak as they’re pulled open. The hour is late, and there is only a handful of guards around watching you with a curious expression. You slide off the horse and follow closely behind Tristan as he weaves through the labyrinth of hallways before reaching a large door. He knocks out a combination, and Arthur’s voice comes from inside asking you to enter. 

Tristan stands back and gives your hand a squeeze, “good luck. I promise he’s worth it.” You smile, trembling, and give him a return squeeze. You watch his back retreat and take a deep breath before turning the handle. 

“Did she get home alright, Stick?” You follow his voice, stepping around the chair and looking down at him. He’s writing a letter, the quill moving across the page, a half-full glass of wine on the table to his left. “She didn’t see you, right? You know how much she detests having a guard.” 

“She didn’t make it home okay,” you say quietly, but he jumps anyways, looking up at you with wide eyes. “But she did find her way safely to you, my King.” He rises from his chair and stands tall beside you, gazing into your eyes, and for the first time, you see past the facade of the King he’s created and instead see the man, Arthur. 

“Are you well, my darling?” he asks, cupping your cheek; you close your eyes and lean into his touch. His smile is bright enough to rival the sun, and you smile back at him just as brightly. 

“I learned about you tonight, my King,” he furrows his brow, “Sir Tristan was telling me tales of how you became King.” 

He grins, “And what did he tell you?” He pulls away, pouring a second glass of wine and handing it to you. He takes your hand and leads you over to the roaring fire, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of it. You take a sip of the wine and put down the glass, climbing into his lap and putting your head against his shoulder. His hand comes up to wrap around your waist, keeping you snug to his side, putting down his glass of wine, and putting the other hand in your lap. 

You roll his fingers between your hands, feeling the callouses from years of fighting coarse against your skin. He leans his head against your own, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. “He told me about you growing up in the brothel, how you protected those women, and their honor. He told me how you begged them to leave when the Black Legs came, and only when your friend’s lives were threatened did you finally wield Excalibur.” 

You sit up and look him deep in the pools of blue that are his eyes, lowering your voice to almost a whisper. “He also told me about Back Lack and Blue. How you’ve become like a father to him,” you trail off, looking down at his hand in your own, “he said you love me.” You look up and catch the storm in his expression, the showers of tears that threaten to fall as he’s reminded of his lost friend. 

You cup his cheek and brush your fingers beneath his eye collected them like diamonds. “He died because of me because I wasn’t able to protect him.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” you whisper. He takes a shuddery breath, and you hold on to him with both hands, keeping his eyes on you. “You did the best you could; you are raising his son. He wouldn’t blame you for what happened.” 

He tugs you closer, and your foreheads touch, “he would have liked you,” he gives a watery chuckle. “He’d have loved your baking, the way you stand up for yourself, and call me out on my bullshit.” You laugh, and he leans closer, “Tristan was right.” 

“About what?” the ghost of his lips brushes yours, and you gasp at the touch. 

“I love you,” you pull back a little, “I love how strong you are, loyal, fierce, and fucking stunning. You are everything I could ever ask for, and I know I came on too strong. I pushed you away when all I wanted was to hold you close like this. From the moment I saw you, spoke to you, the moment you chucked a rolling pin at my head, I knew.” 

You cringe at one of the more colorful visits you had with the King. “What? What did you know?” 

“That you are much more than a baker.” He nuzzles his nose against your own, and you give a breathless reply, begging him to tell you what you are. His lips touch yours slowly, just barely touching, and your eyes slide closed, moving closer to him when he whispers, “you’re my Queen.” 

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[what-the--curtains]

There Are No Wolves In the Desert

( Oberyn Martell x f!reader, Robb Stark x f!reader)

Part 1 - The Wolf and The Outsider

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Summary: The series of events that have lead to you being in Dorne and why you can never return home.

Authors notes: Oberyn is not in this chapter but he will be in all subsequent chapters! This part is mainly context corner to build up the character! The reader is a distant relative of the Targaryens but I only mention hair colour and eye colour everything else will remain non- descript! Let me know if you want to be tagged (or untagged) in this story 😊😊

Tw: Swearing, violence, mentions of and allusion to sex (none depicted), war, murder the usual GOT stuff, major character death (I wonder who it could be👀👀)

Word count: 5.7k

Tagged: @evyiione

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Kings landing

Cersei tilts her head, eyes thinning as she gazes out over kings landing, the moon illuminating the gold plated roofs of the upper class, the stench of the poor unable to reach her here. Jamie sits on the bed she had shared with her late husband, slowly re-donning the white armour of the king's guard. He turns watching as the summer breeze blows the ends of her golden hair. His shin guard is clipped into place just as three short knocks sound out against the wooden door, filling the quiet air of the night. Sighing loudly Jamie stands up to answer the door, a smile forming on Cersei’s lips as she trunks to greet the visitor.

“Littlefinger, to what do we owe the displeasure,” Jamie asks, sarcasm dripping off every word.

“Funny… I thought knights usually waited outside the bedchamber of those they swore a sacred oath to protect,” he queries smiling, the candlelight illuminating his prominent front teeth.

“Is it done,” Cersei asks through her teeth, tiring of the man’s desperate attempts to hold some semblance of power.

“Yes. Not a soul left alive that isn’t loyal to house Baratheon... or is Lannister perhaps more apt. The north is ours for the taking now the young wolf has fallen, and Sansa is under control here.”

“What of his wife?” she asks, walking towards a nearby table, decanting wine into a goblet turning with eyebrows raised. Littlefinger was not the only one in Kings landing with ears everywhere. She had heard a rumour, one she wished to squash as soon as she can.

“His widow, you mean,” Jamie states from the door frame, dissatisfied at being left out of the conversation.

“Gone, left in the wee hours of the morning from what I heard,” Cersei says, eyes staring into Littlefinger’s, locked in a strategic game of mental chess.

“So she’s alive, ” Jamie adds, despite his previous statement being ignored.

“Not for long,” Littlefinger states , brushing him off.

“Who saw her leave?” Cersei demands, a hint of concern slipping through as she swirls her wine around in the glass.

“No one left alive,” Littlefinger reassures

“So she's...” Cersei begins,

“She’s set to land in Dorne two days from now, she will be dealt with when she arrives. She is…inconsequential.” Littlefinger finishes.

“And so ends the reign of the wolves,” Jamie remarks, as Cersei raises her glass toasting the gods.

Dorne (2 days later)

You watch the docks appear along the horizon as the ship begins to reduce its speed. The sea spray from the trip spattered across your skin was yet to dry, cooling you off, as the southern sun bares down onto you. You lick your lips, the salty taste leaves you parched in a heat the likes of which you’d never known. You’d never been to Dorne, though you’d heard stories of it’s fair weather, people and architecture, and you were eager to see if they held true. You’d heard the wine here was the sweetest the world had to offer, you planned on returning home with some, even if Dorne was merely a stopover. It was not a honeymoon you were here for, no you were here to complete a task of utmost importance. You came in search of the so-called dragon queen at the behest of your husband. He wanted to see if the rumours were true and if they were he hoped to make an ally of her. He had sent you in hopes that your shared lineage, though distant, would work in his favour. The Targaryens held family in high regard, especially with so few of them remaining. You smile as the shore comes into view, the birds above singing to your arrival. The golden hues of the late afternoon sun paint the tents of the markets in the docks. A sense of bliss rolls over you as the crew ties the ship to the dock. It would be one of the last moments of peace you would know for some time. Your feet make contact with the ground, legs wobbling slightly at being back on solid ground. You stumble slightly and a man with a blue beard catches your elbow.

“Winter is coming,” he whispers and you look up as he discreetly passes you a note. You open it. The letter is long and the script rushed, but seven words stand out ‘the King in the North has fallen’ the sheet slips from your fingers and you drop to your knees. “Quick, we haven’t much time,” he says dragging you up, as the first arrow pierces the sky, hitting the captain of your ship in the neck.

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

Winterfell, 7 years prior (age 17)

You had always stood out in the north, a caveat of the family you were born into, all of you were outsiders here. Your grandfather was a Targaryen, second cousin to the mad king and when war broke out he led a small rebellion that tried to push back the Baratheon troops storming the capitol, but to no avail. Your father and his brothers were there that day, fighting alongside him, but they were outnumbered, and no amount of skill would keep the combined Starks and the Baratheon forces at bay. After the capitol was taken, your grandfather was hanged and your grandmother took your father and his brother and feld while Robert butchered any descendents of the Targaryen line that would weaken his claim to the throne. Your father had split from his family opting to head north, while they trekked south. He never saw them again. Upon his arrival in Winterfell he built a small homestead outside the city walls and sought work, thankfully the distinctive hair and eye colour had skipped him and he could blend in with the northerners. He found work as a stone mason, crafting formidable architecture admired and paid for by the nobility. The payments allowed him to move up the social ladder and while he remained in the forest he had gained the respect of the elite and was accepted as one of them. His hands soon grew tired of creating. They craved the weight of a sword and so he gave up masonry and offered his services to Ned Stark. Your father became a confidant to the King in the North as he moved up through the ranks. He ended up training many of the soldiers, and for a while, even Ned’s own sons. His proximity to the crown brought him into the path of your mother.

A ball was held in celebration of their eldest child's first name day and your mother was in attendance representing the Tyrells. He spotted her across the room, and to this day he swears the sun shone down on her despite being inside a hall. He approached her that night and they married during the long summer, your brother Illirion was born a year later, then a year after that it was your turn. Their final child, your youngest brother Rhaevar was born two years after you, thus completing your family unit. While the honeyed eyes and dark toned hair of the Tyrells presented well with your brothers, the Targaryen traits that had initially skipped your father came through in your genetic composition. Your hair was as white as the snow that came to the north during the winter, and your eyes a lilac similar to the foxgloves that grew in the spring. You attended a local school until you reached the age where girls were no longer allowed to study. Whilst there you heard whispers from the other children. Every now and then a comment of “murderer” or “traitor” would be shot your way, much to your confusion. It wouldn’t be until years later than your parents would tell you why such comments were made. After school ended officially you continued your education at home and studied the methods of healing that your mother had been trained in while in Highgarden.

Your father insisted all his children learn how to defend themselves, the north was a dangerous place after all, and the threat of war loomed large. The stability between kingdoms was teetering, it had been peaceful for too long, a storm was coming. You’d proven to be of high talent, had it not been for your eldest brother's size you would have been the strongest fighter in the family. Illirion married at 18 to a noble girl of high status, and it wasn't long after that you lost many of your friends to marriage. Some of the pairing were good, some bad and some even for love. Despite being propositioned a few times, you had no interest in being a bride.Your parents did not mind now that your brother had secured a wife and would be able to care for you once they passed. Your father also had it on good authority that you all were to be cared for so long as a Stark sat at Winterfell.

You were acquainted with the family since childhood, though outside of parties you rarely saw them. During the gatherings you and Sansa often gossiped together and Arya would sneak you into the courtyard and beg you to train her. The time spent with them was greatly cherished. Their brothers were often gone during such events, off showcasing their prowess to girls of higher status than you, women who would one day be their wives. Little did you know, Jon and Robb had been told to stay away from you so as not to ruin your reputation. That rule had been followed until one day when a particularly cruel comment from a noble girl sent Arya running directly into your path.

You were out tracking a wolf that had killed one of your family's horses. It wasn’t revenge you sought, but its attack on your homestead meant it was getting closer to town, and growing far too bold for your liking. You’d stopped your trek once you realized it was headed back towards the wall. Approaching your house you see Arya sitting on a log outside your house near the fire pit. Her feet swinging, intermittently kicking at the dirt below.

“Arya?” you question placing your gear down on the ground as she turns to face you, her nose running, eye slightly red.

“Is Rhaevar around? I wish to play” she demands, her childlike nature apparent now more than ever.

“I’m afraid he’s gone off in search of the children of the forest, but perhaps we can find something to do together?” you offer sitting beside her, she was upset, evidently so.

“I have no want to stitch,” she huffs, causing you to laugh at her attempt to insult you.

“Good neither do I. I’m no good at it anyways,” you admit and she looks up at you “Well what do you wish, Arya? Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

“I wish to know how to shoot my arrow so it hits the target every time. I don’t care what Robb says, Jon thinks I can do it so I want to try.”

“Well, I can help with that, come I’ll show you a trick. You’ll hit it every time. Prove your eldest brother wrong,” your comment earns a rare grin from the youngest Stark daughter. After a few goes she gets the hang of it, hitting your practice targets one after the other.

“By the gods,” you chuckle, you’d never seen such natural talents before. Caught up in your admiration of her gift you fail to catch her turning to aim at a farther target still. The arrow soars through the air as two horses approach your homestead, the arrow only just missing them.

“Arya!” you shout, grabbing her arm “You must be careful!” you exasperate as she looks up to you her mouth ajar. The sound of the horses fast approaching.

“Get behind me,” you murmur, pushing in front of her and aiming the bow true.

“It’s Robb!” she shouts, pushing against you attempting to make a run for it. Despite her efforts to throw you off balance you manage to grab her arm, dropping your weapons in the process.

“Why are you running?” you ask, not releasing your grip on her scrawny arm.

“Because I don’t fit in!” she finally admits.

“Well a secret Arya, no one fits in, we're all different, it's what keeps life interesting and what will keep you alive in your years to come,” you say watching as she stops struggling a softness suddenly coming over her features.

“She said I had a face like a dog,” she whispers, chewing on her lip, eyes down. The cruelty of children was always surprising to you.

“Well I’d find it hard to find someone who does not see the tenderness of a pup, or the strength and beauty of a dire wolf. Either way, You have talents, beyond what beauty can measure, ones that will never abandon you,” you reassure. She sniffs and looks up at you offering a rare smile. You see her shift back into her tough persona, the scowl returning to her face as she runs towards the horses belonging to her brother and who you assumed must be his ward Theon. You watch the eldest Stark, now two years your senior drop down allowing Theon to help Arya, as he strides towards you.

“We’d be lucky to have you in our ranks, if you can teach her to nearly take my head off from a mile away,” he laughs, easing your nervousness slightly, his northern accent heavier than you had remembered.

“I did remind your sister to be more careful lest she be tried for treason, or worse yet, get me tried for treason. As for my services, they are always at the will of the Starks, if you wish me to join the army who am I to refuse,” you say, tilting your head and offering him a smile.

“Women are not allowed in our ranks, lest of all those who look like you,” he charms, an unexpected compliment from a man you rarely got the opportunity to speak with.

“Not yet, but rules are meant to be broken after all my Lord.” You retort, eyes meeting his steel grey gaze causing an unexpected chill to run down your spine.

“Are they?” he laughs, the warmth of it causing a sudden heat to rise within you, counteracting his gaze.

“You should remind your mother of that when you return Arya to her,” you offer, as he hands you the arrow that almost took off his head.

“Thank you for returning my sister, wolves have been prowling about, heaven forbid they got to her before us,” he says, concern etched in his face.

“The wolves have moved north, I do not believe they will return this way, and Arya is stronger than you give her credit for,” you assure, his brows raising at your competence.

“I know, and I think she does too, I fear she’ll outlive us all,” he offers, rubbing the back of his neck, the two of you standing there for a moment, the smirk that usually danced replaced by a nervous grin. His head dips down before turning back to the horse, but he stops one last time swivelling round to face you.

“My lady,” he calls after you.

“Yes my lord,” you say, turning back to face him.

“I look forward to our next meeting,” he offers sincerely.

“As do I,” you say curtseying in such a way to make him smile before you both head back towards your respective homes.

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

2 years later (age 19)

“What is it?” you ask your father as you lay down your quiver and the pair of small pheasants you’d brought home for dinner. He takes a long drag of his pipe, gaze glued to the treeline. “Father tell me?” you stress, knowing he only ever smoked when bad news had arrived.

“Illirion, he’s...” He stammers and drops his head letting out a strangled sob. You shake your head at the suggestion. Your brother had gone down to kings landing a week ago to serve as a bodyguard to Ned Stark who had been summoned at the behest of King Robert Baratheon. Arya and Sansa had gone with them, leaving Catelyn and the boys in Winterfell, Robb currently ruling in his place.

“Ned Stark would never allow…” you begin, sure your father had once again fallen trap to the rumour mill.

“He’s dead, they’re all dead, all of them...” he whispers, dropping his head to his hands.

“What happened tell me everything,” you stress, pushing your own sentiments aside for the moment.

“Beheaded, Ned for treason, for the murder of Robert Baratheon, his greatest friend, unlikely story. They killed your brother as Ned’s head fell. Arya, is missing, presumed dead, Sansa is a prisoner, to be wedded to that horrible snot nosed inbred Joffrey.” He continues in fragmented sentences.

“Mother?” you question.

“She’s in bed still, hasn’t left, I dare not tell her the worst of it,” he admits tear streaked eyes meeting yours.

“What the worst of it?” you ask, unable to think what could possibly be worse. “Lean on me father, there is no else left for you to confide in, lend me some of the burden,” you stress rubbing his arm in encouragement.

“War is upon us and each family must provide a soldier. Since my knee… I am no longer able to fight, the Starks know this. So your youngest brother…” he starts, but a sob catches in his throat stopping him.

“He can’t go, he’s too…” you begin, swallowing as you try to think of the right word.

“Soft” your father offers.

“No, he’s just not skilled enough, at least not in the ways of the sword. Skilled as he is as a mason he wouldn’t last a minute on the battlefield,” you pause, only one path was clear to you “Let me go in his place,” You say, before you have time to process what you had just offered to do.

“No,” your father says without hesitation.

“Let me go and you may end this life with two of three children. If he goes, I will be the only one left and I could not bear it,” you say pushing back tears at the thought of losing another brother.

“Your mother...” he begins

“Knows I was the best fighter. I had the best teacher in all the seven kingdoms after all,” you say nudging him with your elbow. He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, before pulling you into a tight embrace.

“When do I leave?” you ask.

“Tonight. It’s a good thing your brother isn’t tall, his armour will fit you, take this helmet. Do not remove it, keep your hood up, any trouble and cut off their cocks, or else I will.”

“I'll see you again, I swear it,” you state, with every intent of keeping your promise.

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

The battle rages forward, men fall around you, but you refuse to meet a similar fate today. Your sword penetrates through the opening of a Lannister’s armour turning quickly to slice the backs of the knees of another soldier, both falling in tandem. You hear a horse whinny on your left and you turn to see Robb Stark fall from his horse becoming trapped beneath the dying creature. You weave throughout the battle towards him. Your blade intercepts the longsword of an enemy soldier just as it’s about to penetrate Robbs armour. You drop your shield to Robb and you push up against the attacker. Releasing your force he falls forward and Robb pushes the shield up hitting the man’s face swinging his head back. Grabbing the man by his hair you slit his throat. You drop your sword and pull Robb out from beneath the horse. He grabs your shoulders giving you nod before returning to the forefront of the battle. As the horn of retreat sounds you celebrate the victory with those around you, surviving the first of many attacks.

You're walking back to the tents when you hear a familiar voice call out to you.

“You, wait,” Robb demands, chuckling with those around him. You continue on your path hoping he was talking to someone else. “It is not wise to disobey your king.” He sounds out again, forcing you to turn towards him.

“Come now friend, we mean no harm. I wish to look upon the face of the man who saved me and invite him to ride alongside me.” he states.

“Perhaps he is too ugly to show his face, my lord,” one of his lieutenants states causing a laugh to erupt from the surrounding crowd of men except for Robb. Though a slight smile pulls at the corner of his mouth breaking the cold façade he’d donned since his father’s death. A moment passes then another until the silence is so prolonged you have no other option but to obey. Slowly you lift your helmet up your eyes meeting his for the first time in a year.

“A prize for the army, my lord?” one of the men questions, hungrily eyeing you up as he fervently steps towards you. Robb's arm stops him in his tracks and you draw your blade.

“Touch me and risk losing more than just your hand, I have fought alongside you. I am your equal. You will treat me as such,” you demand, your voice unwavering despite the uneasiness in your stomach.

“You have a cunt, you are not our equal, though perhaps in bed…” another from the crowd offers.

“Stop! Leave us” Robb orders, and the men retreat back towards the camp ground the sound of laughter and whistles picking up once out of range.

“I did tell you rules were meant to be broken,” you say, watching as he tries to suppress a smile.

“Well they certainly have been now” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Are you going to hang me, my lord? Or is it my King now?” you question, a bolder move than you should have felt comfortable making.

“To you it's Robb and no I am not going to hang you, but you are going to come with me,” he says offering you his arm which you brush by looking back at him to follow.

“How have you come to be here? Does your father know?” Catelyn stresses,eyes growing wide as she scans over you assessing the damage.

“My lady, yes, he does. You see when the war was announced and after my brother’s death, we knew someone from our family would have to fight. My father’s leg as you know isn’t... as it used to be, and my younger brother while talented in many ways, cannot hold a blade to save his life. My mother’s grief was already far too much for her to lose another child.” You say, eyes risking tears as she meets her gaze.

“So they sent you?” she explains to herself.

“Yes my lady I was the best fighter in the family, or the most skilled at least.”

“Well, we will not make your brother come to fight, but you cannot stay in the army,” she explains softly, hand running up and down your arms in reassurance.

“She saved my life today,” Robb interjects and Cat looks at you as you look at him.

“Then I am indebted to you.” She expresses.

“As am I,” Robb states the two of you not having dropped eye contact, much to the notice of Cat.

“Lady Catelyn, I am a capable fighter, but if you will not allow me to so, at least allow me to tend to the wounded or to serve you in some other manner. I am here after all, put me to use.” you say and she lets out a sigh.

“Well, if you believe yourself able to defend yourself, and if what my son says is true then I would be remiss to send you home, though you will not sleep out with the rest of the army, you will stay with me.” she says.

“And during the battle you will remain close to me,” Robb stresses “not for your protection, but for mine”

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

1 year later (Age 20)

Robb watches as you kill another soldier, the sight never failing to impress him. You had remained close over the past year, both in and out of the battlefield. He kept you close at all costs, your company bringing him some semblance of joy, even in his darkest moments. Rumours swirled amongst the men and the other kingdoms, though nothing between the two of you had come to fruition. Due to the colour of your hair, the enemy soldiers had dubbed you the white wolf, in an attempt to link the Starks with the treacherous Targaryens. While the insinuations at your extracurricular activities with Robb pushed the narrative that he was impure, that northerners were savages, who did not abide by the values of the seven kingdoms.

As you wipe the blood from your eyes, an arrow catches you in the shoulder, the force knowing you back into a tree. Robb is at your side in record time, his hand stopping yours from pulling the weapon out.

“Medic!” he shouts, eyes not leaving yours.

“Go! you need to lead your people, I will be fine,” you emphasize and he shakes his head “Robb, it is a shoulder, nothing of importance lives there.”

“No but it is attached to something of the utmost importance.”

“Go you have a war to win,” you state as the medic helps you to your feet and brings you back across the line.

You sit in Robbs tent, despite your insistence at being treated in the same manner as the other soldiers, he had demanded you be brought there instead. A skilled nurse had removed the arrow from your shoulder just as you heard the rambunctious cheers of the men outside, victory had been secured. Unsurprising considering Robbs keen strategic mind, he was smarter than you'd have accredited him for in your youth. He enters the tent blood spatter still on his face, seeing you alive and fine he takes the moment to remove his armour. He pulls his undershirt off and walks to the water basin wiping himself clean of the sweat and grim coating his skin. Your eyes watch his bare skin intently, studying every scar, every freckle. He grabs a fresh cloth dunking it the basin and wringing it out before heading over to you. He kneels before you, staring up at you eyes telling you to drop the blood soaked rag currently held to your wound, and you oblige.

“I must confess I long hoped to share an intimate moment with you, though these circumstances are not as I imagined,” he says, gently dabbing at your wound, you smile at his concentration.

“And under what circumstances would you have hoped to be intimate with me, my king? At one of your fancy parties, in the secrecy of a barn, somewhere no one would know you had been with a Targaryen girl.” You ask trying to keep your eyes forwards and not at his muscular physique.

“Every man in Winterfell had dreamed of sharing a moment like that with you, though none have found any luck,” he says, standing up and walking back over to the basin.

“I have no need for a husband nor do I have the want to be wife,” you say, watching the muscles of his arm flex as he wrigns out the rag.

“and what about a queen?” he queries, as his hand braces against your thigh, continuing to clean your wound, his eyes still focused on the gash.

“Do you ask all your foot soldiers such bold questions,” you quip, laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“Only the ones naked in my chambers,” he retorts, eyes darting up a grin plastered to his face.

“A bare shoulder is hardly naked in your chambers,” you state, and he raises his eyebrows mischievously.

“My fondness for you was never allowed,” he admits, dabbing the cloth into a salve and applying it to the wound.

“Oh wasn’t it,” you ask as he looks up to you

“No, my mother feared one of us would ruin you,”

“A Targaryen In the north, perhaps it was fear of you boys being ruined.” you laugh, but when you look at him the tone has shifted.

‘When that arrow hit you, my feelings were confirmed, I no longer wish to be more than a few feet from you at any given moment. I wish to marry you. If you'll allow me”

“Don’t be stupid my king, you’re to be married to a princess from what I understand.”

“I'll be married to whom I please” he assures.

“Robb is that wise?” you question, unfamiliar with the high stakes games played with marriage.

“The Frey’s will recover besides, we’ve crossed their bridge already, and I have no love for anyone but you.”

“Love? We barely know each other,” you say.

“Only our whole lives,” he reminds you.

“I fear you’ll wake up tomorrow and regret your words, so I will not answer you tonight.”

“Then I will return to these chambers tomorrow morning and restate my intentions to make you my wife.”

“What will they say if you allow me to take your bed for the night?” you ponder aloud.

“I guess we shall see” he states, slinging his bloodied shirt over his shoulder.

“Goodnight my King” you offer, watching in amusement as he attempts to find the tents exit without turning around.

“It’s Robb. For you, it's always just Robb”

True to his word he returned the next day and asked again, and this time you accepted. You married a few days later under an old willow tree, with Catelyn and a few others standing witness. The morning after your wedding you awake in his chambers, the sun yet to rise. Robb snores faintly beneath you, the warmth of the fire sending a chill up your skin that had become exposed in the night. You scan over his features, a peacefulness you hadn’t before on his face. You reach over brushing the white patch of hair amongst the mass of soft brown curls on his head. As you do his eyes open looking over to you propping himself up on his elbow and learning over to kiss your forehead.

“What is it my love?” you ask, kissing his cheek, then his lips .

“I need you to do something,” he says, serious as always.

“What we just did wasn't enough, my king? How else may I please you tonight,” you offer hands dancing across his chest, he grins shaking his head slightly.

“You have pleased me in every way imaginable for the past year, and even more tonight. This favour isn't a pleasure of the flesh however, I need you to complete a task. You’re the only one I can trust,” he states.

“You shift up to face him, the furs falling off you slightly, “find the Targaryen girl. I wish to make an ally of her, to destroy the Lannister once and for all. You are likely the only family she has left, she may listen to you.”

“I'll do what I can, and I'll do it fast, I do not wish to be parted from you for long.” you admit as his hand traces over your back.

“Take this with you, that way i'll be protecting you even while we are apart,” he leans over grabbing his dagger, the one made for him by his father, offering it to you.

“Robb I…” you begin.

“Will return it to me a fortnight from now when you come back. I suggest we make the most of tonight, so you have another reason to return to me,” he states

“I'll always return to you, even in death,” you reassure and he wraps the blanket back over you pulling you tightly to his chest. And so as Robb took his seat in the halls of Walder Frey to watch his supposed bride marry another man, you were catching a boat destined for Dorne.

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

Present day (Age 21)

“Come with me now Lady Stark, your life depends on it,” the stranger says, pulling you to your feet and shuffling you into a nearby tavern ushering you quickly up the stairs. You see a pile of clothes laid out on the bed and immediately strip, all notions of decency erased in favour of time.

“You must disappear, make them think you are dead,” he says, averting his eyes as you change into clothes typical of local mercenaries.

“Who killed him, what happened?” you ask, needing some kind of answers.

“There is no time, and it's safer if you do not know.” He says eyes darting from you to the door.

“I have a right to..”

“The Freys betrayed you, everyone at the wedding is dead, you have no claim to Winterfell. The Lannisters have taken the North”

“Everyone at the wedding..” you echo, sitting on the bed

“Stay here..” the blue bearded stranger says, returning a few moments later with a cloak, sword and black dye in hand, placing them down and grabbing for the clothes and the dagger on the floor, Robbs dagger.

“That stays” you stress grabbingthe dagger from his reach.

“It’s too…” he starts

“It stays, it's all I have left of him,” you whisper harsher than intended, fighting back tears. He nods and you take it from him. You grab the dye from his hand and rub it through your hair, staining it a deep ember.

“Keep your eyes down, they're the only thing we can’t disguise,” he states

“Who are you, why are you helping me?” you question memorizing the man's face.

“You share a common enemy with powerful people. You have allies here. Goodbye Lady Stark I hope we meet again,” he says, and with a swift turn he exits the tavern leaving you alone with your thoughts. You wait a moment before donning the cloak and pulling up your hood. You walk out the tavern, putting as much distance between you and the docks as possible. Keeping your eyes down as men scoured the streets for the person you once were

[genesisrose74]

Christmas With the Karasuno Boys (HC’s)!!

Part 2: Kageyama, Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Kinoshita, & Narita

Part 1 (Daichi, Suga, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, & Ennoshita) here!

A/n: Tumblr said my word count was too much so I’m splitting this bad boi up into two parts :p Enjoy!!

*****

Kageyama

This boy has a secret soft side for Christmas istg

He HATES showing it to other people on his team and shit

But holy bejeezus he is mesmerized by the holiday in every way possible

Lights, sweets, snow, just like,,, the general magic of December is the most awe-inspiring thing to him

Since he is still a sporty and pretty active mofo, you decided to fuel that on your holiday-themed date as Kags had noted that he’d never gone sledding before

Your jaw was on the FLOOR when he first told you because he would 10000% enjoy the hell out of it

And so you dragged him out to this popular sledding hill that you frequented as a child and taught him what to do

Not gonna lie, he was kind of nervous

“Well you’re experienced at it. I don’t wanna mess up”

🥺🥺🥺 bubby

“You won’t, Tobio! I can already tell you’re gonna be a sledding pro”

Feels a little better after that, but he asks you to help him out for his first run down the hill

He sits behind you with his arms secured snugly around your waist and his head nestled on top of your shoulder

Which would probably seem really funny to passerby because this boy is tol and intimidating in most other situations

As soon as the sled started down, Kags tightened his grip and made this cute little yelp of surprise

But you were laughing insanely hard at the combination of going really fast downhill whilst also having your boyfriend cling to you for dear life

And then when the sled stopped safely at the bottom he started to chuckle

FULL ON, GENUINE SOUND OF ENJOYMENT

That shit is rare

Y’all stayed at that hill for half the day because it was so fun

You got him a new, very high quality athletic roller for Christmas because his old one was just not cutting it anymore

And you also gave him this really cute bracelet with a volleyball, his jersey number, and a little strawberry milk set of charms attached to it

It matched this really pretty and subtle chain he’d bought for your birthday

His blueberry eyes got all wide with affection dfjdskfjsdk—

Got super blushy and couldn’t get a handle on his speech for a fat minute

He thinks you’re the coolest person ever no I do not take criticism

Geez you’re both adorable together, ideal “stoic boy becomes warmer during the holidays around his love” movie plot and I love it

Hinata

He is all in on Christmas. Not a chance this boy doesn’t get excited as hell

Will openly go into holiday mode as soon as November is over

Was secretly already listening to his Christmas playlist before then

He is one of the sweetest gift givers, that is FACTUAL

If you want something really badly, he will take notice and get it as your present immediately

He’ll also gift you an extra thing that’s handmade 🥺

Like some pastries that his mom helped him make, or a specially made basket of soaps with your favorite scents in it

It’s absolutely adorable and you cherish those ones especially

Is happy if you simply get him something; mans doesn’t care what it is

New practice volleyball? A brand new sweatshirt? Elated either way

You had seen an advertisement for a friendly match between Japan and Poland’s men’s volleyball teams, so you waited online on the ticket sales website until the minute it opened

Spoiler alert: you got some banger seats 😌✨

Shoyo may or may not have tackled you when he read the ticket details, letting out his excited giggle (you know the one)

“I can’t believe you got these, angel! You’re coming with me, right? You’ve gotta! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Gives you sweet little kisses between each individual ‘thank you’

“Of course I’ll go with you, Sho! I’m really glad you like it!”

He will give you the brightest smile of all time — that shit makes Christmas lights pale in comparison

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

RIGHT BACK AT YOU BBY

Hold his hands to warm up together when temperatures drop pls :)))

It’s become a weekly December tradition to watch a Christmas movie with Natsu at the Hinata household

She’ll sit in your lap while the three of you are cuddled under a blanket together, and Shoyo will lace his fingers with yours all discreetly

In conclusion, I am a sucker for holiday Hinata 🥺🥺🥺

Tsukishima

His room is decorated to the very minimum simply because his mom and brother had insisted on him being festive

You know those holiday instrumentals that are really calming and jazzy and stuff? Yeah, that’s the only Christmas music he will tolerate in his house

While he’s still got his usual icy demeanor, this blond bitch does get slightly less snippy with the Karasuno boys

Is always on the nose with getting you the exact thing you wanted for a present

Like,,, TO THE SMALLEST DETAIL

You don’t even have to bring that shit up beforehand, he just KNOWS

“Tsukki, how did you—?”

“It’s pretty obvious, with the way that one ad kept showing up on your phone.”

b r u h

How does he pay such good attention without even letting on??

As for his own present, you’ll usually get him two: one gag gift and one more serious gift

His dino plush collection size is partly due to the former’s contributions this time of year

Yes the dinos have names

You exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve with all the team (you made him go) and he saved your more serious one for last

It was a scarf that you’d gotten custom made, which had a Spotify code knitted into the fabric

Scanning the code opened the app to a playlist you’d created especially for him

He got pretty quiet when figuring it out and scrolling through the playlist

Would let out a certified Tsukki Nose Exhale™ when he came across certain songs

The more subdued reaction was expected because it’s Tsukishima

His little chuckles and warmer eyes were enough of a giveaway to tell you he very much enjoyed your gift

But on the walk home, he took the scarf and wrapped it around you both, and then brought his arm around your waist

“Thank you.”

You deadass almost combusted because it was so unexpected??

“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas, Kei”

Way to respond calm and collected 😌👍

But on the inside your body was in freak out mode

He wears the scarf all the time jdfsklfjdsk

Yamaguchi

Take the most tooth rotting fluff you could imagine

And then double that and put a fucking cherry on top

That’s the equivalent of what Christmas is like with Yama Yama

Y’all are like kids in a candy store — literally

For your Christmas dates it’s all about sweets and shared giggles, so frequent trips to the candy and baking isles of the grocery store is a must

Making gingerbread houses, peppermint tasting (mostly trying those different and wild ass candy cane flavors), you name it and it’s there

Stomach aches? I don’t know her

Yeah you do but they go away with enough butterfly kisses 🥰

Tadashi is exceptionally good at decorating gingerbread houses for whatever reason

He put a poll on his instagram between yours and his final products and he won by a landslide

It’s not like yours was necessarily bad, more like he’s just an icing master

You also might have eaten too many gumdrops which left your rooftop lacking in ✨spice✨

But it’s okay because Tadashi donated some of his leftovers to you

He’s such a sweetheart uwu

Please for the love of everything get him something heartfelt as his present

You know those long distance bracelets for couples?

Basically if your s/o taps the icon on the bracelet it’ll send a little vibration to the other person’s as a notice that you’re thinking about them

This boy seeks constant reassurance, and you love to give him his deserved love and validation, so it was the perfect present

It takes a second for him to figure out what it is, but after reading the directions and testing it out, the most adorable smile erupted on his face

And then since you already had yours on, he tapped the little icon again with a giggle

“Hey there”

It becomes common habit to tap it at least once every couple hours

GOD HE IS SO CUTE

He is just so soft this time of year, give him all the love and he will return it tenfold ☺️

Kinoshita

This boy is absolutely an awkward cutie and an avid romantic

Give him the cliches and he will eat em up, no doubt

It naturally gets more apparent around the holidays

He’ll take you on pretty winter walks, give you lots of little gifts (while blushing a hell of a lot), and is just a professional at stumbling upon some mistletoe

Wow wonder how it got there, Hisashi

He’s quite a bit more confident when simply alone with you than in a crowded space

And that definitely shows when he takes you out on a secluded sleigh ride around town

Yeah you heard me

A fuckin’ sleigh ride

Horses and blankets and everything

Don’t even ask how he managed to pull it off, because he loves watching the cogs turn in your head and simply will not give you a straight answer

Of course there’s the nice driver guy who’s there, but in the back alone Kinoshita’s confidence goes 📈📈

Lots of flirting, tons of skimmed touches and shared giggles throughout the ride

I legitimately simp really hard for him

Anyways it was a gorgeous ride through town and super fun

On Christmas Eve you both exchange gifts together and tbh whatever you got him will leave him happy and flustered regardless

But when he opens the wrapping paper to find an entire set of vintage VHS tapes, he’s stunned

He owns a VHS (actually canon!) and honestly loves it to death, and the fact that you’d get him tapes of pretty high quality for his collection meant a lot

Gosh he’s so underrated but a definite sweetheart, give him all the holiday love

Narita

Another underrated bby 🥺

He’s so chill and is pretty open to anything during the holidays, so long as he gets to spend ample time with you, his friends, and his family

Definitely more of an indoor person despite being accepting of most situations

Hence why you thought a cute little indoor winter picnic would be right up his alley

Which it absolutely was 😌✨ nice work

You’d made plans while in secret communications with his family members about the whole thing

He’d been pretty stressed lately with trying to handle his schoolwork, while also helping out others with theirs

Despite being a wonderful tutor, it was clearly becoming a bit overwhelming as he tried to grapple with so much at once

So when he came home one day to find a pristine house with you settled on a blanket in his living room, he was quite surprised

There’s a cheese plate, soda cans in a cute ice box, sandwiches, snacks, a presparked fireplace — you and his family went all out

Really adorable I cannot lie

“I thought you said you were going gift shopping today?”

“I might have maybe lied :P”

So he gives the sweetest little smile and sits across from you

Y’all stay there and talk for hours

After finally getting through everything previously laid out on the blanket spread, you slid him a little rectangular box that he looked at curiously

“Already? I haven’t wrapped yours yet!”

“Mine can wait a bit! Just open yours”

And so he does, and you watch with a face-splitting grin as he looks down in awe

You got tickets to see his favorite rock band in concert while they were on tour

He sprung onto you and pulled you into the tightest hug ever

“Holy shit you’re the best I love you so much how do you get even more loveable every day—!?!l”

It’s a jumble of words but you’re able to put it together and it makes you giggle

He deadass sprints upstairs to go get your gift and make sure that you feel as equally appreciated as he does

In simple words: wholesome holiday sweetness 🥰

[vs-redemption]

I JUST CAME UP WITH THE CUTEST THING EVER!

Okok so UA prom night. Bakugou and reader have had secret crushes on each other but like it’s obvious to everyone except each other. Prom is prince/princess themed ok? Everyone goes in groups rather than singles bc no one wants to be left out right?

Bakugou and Reader are crowned prom king and queen!!! And they get their own dance while everyone watches — the song is the Beauty and the beast (a perfect fit for the two). And I think it’s adorable and maybe maybe they kiss 🤭

-🐱❤️

From Cindy: Okay so... lol inspiration for this suddenly smacked me in the brain and it ended up being so long (1,761 words). I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t stop. I had so much fun writing this so thank you 🐱 anon for another great idea.

Prom (Bakugo x Fem!Reader)

When your friends decided to attend your senior prom as a group rather than go through the trouble of finding dates, it was both a blessing and a curse for you. On the one hand, going with the social circle that you’d spent every moment of your high school years with provided the guarantee that you’d have a good time at the prince and princess themed dance no matter what. Plus, you wouldn’t end up in the awkward situation of either being rejected or getting stuck trying to make conversation with a single person the entire night. The downside though was that you had a very specific person in mind who you’d been dreaming of going to prom with ever since he’d caught your eye during the entrance exam to get into UA.

That person was Katsuki Bakugo.

It wasn’t as if you thought you had a chance with the explosive boy in question. He was in the same class as you after all, and although you had formed a weird sort of friendship over the years, he’d never shown any signs that he might return your feelings. And boy, did you have feelings. Through all the intense hero trainings and group study sessions, you’d really been able to get to know the ins and outs of his personality. You knew Bakugo came across as arrogant and abrasive at first glance, but somehow you’d never been able to see him that way. In your eyes, he was the most hardworking and passionate student in the whole school. You couldn’t help but admire how confident he was in his own strength and determination. Ever since his admittedly wild behavior during the sports festival in your first year, people had doubted his choice to pursue a career as a hero and criticized the way he interacted with other people. Never once did he waver in his goal though. He just continued to blaze forward, studying and training hard with that same unwavering persistence that you both loved and envied.

“You look amazing in that dress!” Mina winks and throws you a thumbs up as you all crowd in the dormitory bathroom to help each other get ready.

“Yellow really is your color,” Momo agrees with a smile. “People might actually mistake you for a real princess.”

“Stop!” You were blushing a little from all the attention and from the way your thoughts ran wild with fantasies of Bakugo finally noticing you as more than just a fellow hero course student. “We’re all going to look amazing tonight.”

“Good,” Hagakure chimes in, her pink dress fluttering around her invisible body as she twirled in front of the mirror. “We can’t make it too easy for the judges to pick the prom king and queen!”

Once everyone was ready, the group made their way down to the common room where all the boys were waiting. They all looked handsome and uncharacteristically dressed up in their suits, but you only had eyes for one of them. It was almost unfair how good Bakugo looked. His spikey blonde hair and fiery red eyes were already enough to give you butterflies, but the way his dark blue suit jacket fit perfectly over his broad shoulders and tapered down to show off his narrow waist had you feeling even more flustered.

“You idiots finally ready?” He asks, shoving his hands into his pockets casually. You couldn’t help but smile, remembering the way he’d carried on about dances being lame and how there was no way he’d go. You knew from the start that it was all talk. There was no way he would’ve allowed himself to disappoint his friends like that. He cared about all of them more than he’d ever admit.

The dance coordinators at the school had gone above and beyond when decorating the gymnasium which now looked like a scene out of a fairytale. Everywhere you looked had twinkling lights and cutouts of castle towers and horse drawn carriages. You and your friends made your way inside, smiling and waving to familiar faces from other classes and taking in the atmosphere created by the lighting and music. Finally, you noticed the platform set up in the back of the room where two empty thrones sat for the prom king and queen.

“All right! I’m ready to dance now!” Mina cheers once most students had arrived and the DJ, also known as Present Mic, had started to play more upbeat music. You followed her and the rest of the group to the center of the room and jumped right into the action. Time passed quickly as you got lost in the music and dancing, taking breaks every now and then to get something to drink and rehydrate. Never once though did you lose track of Bakugo’s presence. Whether he was on the dance floor, or off to the side talking to one of the others, you always seemed to know where he was like there was some sort of magnetic pull. It didn’t stop you from having a good time, but it made you wonder how much more magical the night would be if you could just steal even a single moment alone with him.

“All right! It’s that time of the night kids!” Present Mic announces later in the evening. “It’s time to announce this year’s prom king and queen!”

The room quiets down and everyone huddles together, feeling the building anticipation over the big reveal. You knew it was only the popular and good looking people that usually got chosen, but you were still excited, hoping that someone from your class might get the chance to wear the symbolic crown or tiara. Present Mic holds up a note that he must’ve gotten from one of the judges and looks down to read the names.

“And the results are in!” he says overdramatically, “Everyone give it up for your king and queen.”

The first name to come tumbling out of the man’s mouth was Bakugo’s, making you freeze up a bit and turn to look at him in shock. Of course he deserved it, but you couldn’t help but feel jealous already of the girl that would get to have the one on one dance with him after being crowned. The noise in the room seemed to fade out as you watched your crush turn and start walking right toward you, suddenly offering you his hand.

“Wh-what?” You didn’t understand, especially since the rest of the girls were suddenly squealing in your ear and patting you on the back.

“He just called both our names, dummy,” the insult comes out as a term of endearment which was normal for Bakugo, but the slight pink blush covering his cheeks was definitely new. He takes your hand into his and you awkwardly follow him up to the platform almost in a daze. You hadn’t even heard Present Mic call your name, but suddenly he was placing a glittery tiara on top of your head and a crown on top of Bakugo’s.

“Are you two ready for your dance?” the teacher asks. Truthfully you weren’t but you find yourself nodding anyway, your mind still trying to catch up with your body.

“You all right?” Bakugo asks, sounding just as uncomfortable as he pulls you into the middle of the room which was now clear of people. You were kind of surprised he was going along with all of this so easily, but before you could think about it any further “tale as old as time” starts to play over the sound system causing your face to heat up in embarrassment. You nod wordlessly again, answering his question. Suddenly he’s pulling you closer, one hand holding your own and the other sliding cautiously to the middle of your back.

For a moment, you are way too caught up with wondering how you’d ended up in such a situation to actually enjoy the way Bakugo starts to gently sway you back and forth to the music. A quick squeeze to your combined hands forces you back to the present and you look up at him nervously. “There you are, princess,” he lets out a short laugh. “I was starting to get worried for a second.”

“P-princess?” You stutter out the nickname. Bakugo’s confidence slips for a second and he averts his eyes, the pink on his cheeks becoming more pronounced.

“Well… it fits the situation, doesn’t it?” he mumbles before glancing up. “We’re royalty now.” Some of the tension leaves your body at his predictable behavior and you let out a small laugh.

“Only for tonight,” You point out, your lips forming a sad smile as you both continue to move across the floor to the music.

“It… uh… it doesn’t have to be,” he blurts out, his eyes continuing to look down.

“What do you mean?” your question comes out sounding breathless and the intensity of his gaze when it meets yours makes your stomach do a flip.

“I mean, this is kind of how I originally pictured prom to go before all those idiots suggested coming as a group.” He was still mumbling a bit but you heard every word.

“You were going to ask me to be your date?” You ask, your voice laced with shock and disbelief. He swallows thickly and then nods his head. The simple gesture fills your heart with happiness and you lean closer into him and tuck your head into his chest. All too soon, the song comes to an end and you’re forced to pull away. You don’t get too far before Bakugo is tugging you back and pressing a warm kiss to your cheek.

“If it’s all right with you,” he says softly while lifting up your hand in his, “I’d like to hold onto this for a little while.” You smile happily and lean forward to return his kiss.

“Bakugo, you can hold onto it for as long as you like,” you tell him honestly. His eyes light up at your words and he looks very much like the prince you had always imagined him to be.

After a moment, a new song began to play and the dance floor filled up with students again. You and Bakugo go back up to the platform to sit in your designated thrones while all your friends crowd around the two of you, congratulating and teasing you both. Surrounded by your closest friends with Bakugo’s hand clutched firmly in your own, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect ending to your prom night fairytale.

[danny-chase]

Hello! May I request the pneumonia square on your bthb card for Dick with Bruce taking care of him?

Thanks for the request!

Pneumonia - read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne Additional Tags: bruce wayne centric, Dick grayson centric, Sickfic, Pneumonia, Blood, Stitches, Dick Grayson is Batman, Damian Wayne is Robin, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Damian Wayne, Sick/hurt Dick Grayson, mentions past passive suicidal attempt, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, what a surprise they hug each other Series: Part 9 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

Bruce hasn't been sure where he stands in sons' lives after returning from the timestream, but a case of pneumonia provides an excuse to sort some things out.

Full story under cut

Bruce only meant to drop by briefly, hand off some papers, and be on his way. He wasn’t exactly sure what made him pause in front of the display case.

Well. That wasn’t exactly true. He did know. How could he not know by the way his eyes gravitated towards the hood on the back of the Robin suit’s cape. By the way his heart sank at the sight of it.

He still thought it unnecessary – a distraction in the fight – it could easily obscure vision. He would have never allowed his partners to wear one.

And that was the trouble, wasn’t it? Damian wasn’t his partner, the hood a visual reminder. Dick knew Damian’s abilities better than anyone, knew whether or not the hood was appropriate. He trusted Dick’s judgment – no – had to rely on it when it came to his youngest.

He’d considered stepping in at first, but it made sense to keep Dick and Damian as partners – they worked well together, provided results. Damian rarely got along with anyone else… and that was changing under Dick’s mentorship. Gotham was doing well, crime rates were dropping, and public approval had risen significantly. By all accounts, Batman and Robin were doing an excellent job.

It was an odd feeling, to be surpassed by your son, at wearing the mantle you created.

It was an odd feeling, to be surpassed by your son, in being loved by your youngest. To have missed out on so much, to have been dead a year and come back with things running (mostly) smoothly, as if the world hadn’t really needed him anyways. He couldn’t quite tell if it was humbling or humiliating when he heard whispers from officers of the new Batman being better than the old one.

But if there was one thing he was sure of, it was-

The walls of the bunker shook slightly, the floor trembling beneath his feet as the roar of an engine reverberated through the entrance tunnel. Swept out of his thoughts, he swiftly placed the stack of documents by the main computer and doubled back to his car.

He didn’t plan on being here long, wasn’t keen on talking – he had the computer back at the manor running narrowing down possible combinations for one of Riddler’s games – he’d already lingered much to long.

With that thought, he opened the door his of car, giving a brief nod of acknowledgement as Dick entered on his bike. Dick didn’t wave back – he always waved when he saw him – unless something was wrong – or maybe he hadn’t seen him – that was the logical answer –

But Bruce still found himself frozen in place, his pulse increasing, heart leaping into his throat as Dick got closer, his mind scrutinizing every detail he could see – the way Dick was hunched over too much – his posture was normally perfect, his left arm was wrapped around his middle – Bruce slammed his car door shut, jogging forward as Dick parked.

“What’s wrong?” He reached up, pulling off the damn cowl, revealing tired watery, reddish eyes. Dick blinked, frowning, his eyes adjusting to the light.

“Nothing.” He pulled back, refusing Bruce’s arm, dismounting the bike himself. The cape obscured whatever Dick was putting pressure on. Dick strode forward, his shoulder squared as he started up the stairs. He felt oddly small looking up at the stark silhouette – and he had to wonder – was this how his kids felt when staring up at his back?

And then Dick succumbed to a nasty coughing fit halfway up the stairs. Bruce bolted up beside him, offering an arm again, swiftly finding blood trickling from a deep gash on his side. Instinctively he tore off a piece of his shirt, pressing it to the wound. Dick looked at him judgmentally, speaking through coughs.

“If you – waited like -” He doubled over again, pausing their trip up the stairs. He put up a hand, as Bruce moved in to simply carry him up the rest of the way. “- m’ fine.” Dick sucked in a shallow breath and they continued on. “ – didn’t have to ruin your shirt. We have gauze.” He mumbled as they reached the top.

Bruce looked down at his shirt, then back at Dick, feeling like a dumbass, but nonetheless glad he hadn’t left him behind. “You would have fallen down the stairs.” He noted, before moving onto the more pressing matter. “Were you gassed? Poisoned? Dick, repo-”

“I’m-” Dick cut him off, only for Damian to drop from the rafters, dramatically landing a few feet away.

“He’s been ill.” He crossed his arms in annoyance, pouting in his pajama pants, wearing an oversized shirt he’d sworn he’d gotten for Dick years ago. “And insisted on benching me even though I am perfectly capable of-”

“Damian, you’re supposed to be in-” Dick stumbled over his own feet – another alarm going off in his mind – Dick was normally graceful. Bruce was tired of this – he made eye contact with Damian, nodding towards their medical closet.

“Grab gauze and a suturing kit.” He commanded, Damian scurrying off ahead. He slipped his free hand beneath Dick’s knees, scooping him up – rushing him the rest of the way to the table as Dick succumbed to a hacking fit. Memories from years ago bubbled in the back of his mind, from a time Dick was smaller, in a brightly colored costume, fading quickly in his arms after a run in with Harvey Dent.

He couldn’t call for Alfred this time. He was halfway across the world assisting Kate, spending well deserved time with his daughter.

Biting back the panic, he did his best to gently set him down, but Dick was heavier than he used to be, and he was a bit older himself. Bruce cringed as Dick hit the table with a bit of a thud – though it seemed Dick hardly noticed – but Damian hissed in disapproval.

“Sorry.” Dick murmured, once he caught his breath, sounding far away – as if standing on the other end of a tunnel. Bruce couldn’t tell if he was spacing out, or if Dick was simply quiet, either way, he ignored the interruption, holding out a hand.

Damian materialized beside him placing the kit in his hands before pressing clean gauze to Dick’s. Bruce yanked off the costume in tandem. Neither spoke as they worked like a well-oiled machine, Bruce sewing up the wound as Damian kept Dick still. He could fix this – it wasn’t like before – the cut wasn’t too bad, he had the skills – he just needed to focus.

Bruce fought to keep his hands steady, as he tied off the end. Dick stared aimlessly at the ceiling, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, rolling down the side of his face and dripping in his eyes. Damian kept him propped upright, from atop the other side of the table.

Dick paused to cough for a moment, Damian pounding his back with furious eyes, as if he was attacking the congestion himself. “Don’t tear the stiches.” Bruce chided, Damian glared, but lightened his taps. Bruce held Dick by the shoulders until he was ready to continue.

Moments later, the bandage was applied, and Bruce scanned for more injuries.

“That was it, I’m fine.” Dick muttered, though Bruce couldn’t tear his eyes away – he could feel the blood on his hands – drying at the edges, slimy under his latex gloves. Dick was too pale, too warm to the touch, too- “Quit looking at me like I died.” He grumbled exasperatedly, his voice painfully horse. The tone snapped Bruce out of his inspection. “I’m fine.”

He turned to Damian – because at least one of his kids was being honest. “How long has he been sick?” He turned, grabbing a thermometer off a shelf.

“Since last Monday.” He replied, critically scanning Dick as well, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

Dick scoffed at the remark, looking offended. “Liar, that was just allergies.” He reached up, moving to ruffle Damian’s hair – unsuccessful, Damian easily dodging the attempt.

“Obviously, it was more than just allergies, seeing as you’re still under the weather.” He rolled his eyes. “Likely something viral, the flu perhaps?”

Bruce gave Dick a pointed look, cocking an eyebrow. “You know better than to go out while sick.” That’s how people get killed, how Dick could have gotten killed, how he would have been left to bleed out on the floor if he hadn’t been there, how –

“I thought I’d turned the corner.” Dick’s tone was cool, but his eyes were laser focused on him – he had this way of looking at people, as if he was staring into your soul. “I felt fine when I left.”

“He was doing better earlier.” Damian begrudgingly mentioned, taking some small amount of pity on his brother. He gazed up quizzically, matching Dick’s expression. Bruce shifted his gaze between the two sets of searching eyes.

A moment passed in silence. The weight in his hand finally reminding him of his purpose, he stuck the ear thermometer in Dick’s ear.

“I can do the rest myself.” Dick noted, placing a hand atop the thermometer as well – which Bruce subsequently ignored.

“Mmm.” He noted, checking the temperature. “Almost hundred and three. And you felt fine enough to go out?” He asked, dropping notes of disbelief into his voice. Dick gazed back at him, unamused.

“I meant what I said. It was only supposed be a stakeout anyways.” Irritation was clear, despite his scratchy tone. Damian hoped off the table behind him. “You’ve gone out way worse than this!” Dick broke into raspy coughs, Bruce catching his shoulders.

“I’m going to prepare tea.” Damian muttered, dashing up the stairs, leaving him alone with the sound of Dick’s wheezing.

“Any other symptoms?” Bruce grabbed a stethoscope, snapping a pulse oximeter to Dick’s index finger. “Be honest.” He reminded, Dick avoiding his gaze.

“Bruce, you don’t seriously think I would have gone out if-”

“I know you know your limits.” He acknowledged. He also knew his family (and occasionally himself) liked pretending the limits weren’t there. He slipped the stethoscope against Dick’s chest, listening to his lungs. “Breath in.” Something crackled deep in his lungs. “Chest x-ray.” Bruce noted.

“Isn’t that a bit extreme?” If Bruce closed his eyes, he could pretend it was 9-year-old Dick, complaining about having to be swabbed for strep throat.

“If I’m right, no.” Dick unhappily mimicked his voice. Bruce cocked an eyebrow, giving him an unamused stare. “A list of symptoms would help.”

“I hate it when you’re like this – just tell me what you think.” Dick slid off the table. Bruce caught him by the shoulders, they were burning up. Dick shivered, shaking underneath his hands.

“I think you already know.” He slipped an arm under his son’s shoulders, slowly walking him towards the machine. “Shortness of breath, coughing, wheezing, fever, chills, recently viral illness. Chest pain likely.”

Dick groaned. “It’s just a cold.” Bruce pulled a blanket a nearby shelf, wrapping it around his shoulders. “I’ll be fine with a good night’s sleep. You don’t have to do this; I’ll go to Leslie’s tomorrow.”

“Dick.” He sighed exasperatedly. They could do the x-ray here or drive to the clinic at 2am.

“Don’t, Dick, me. You have stuff to do, thanks for stitching me up but I can handle myself, I thought you were supposed to-”

“Richard.” Dick paused for a moment. Bruce took it as an opportunity to half carry him the rest of the way to the machine. “I’ll take a culture when this is done and send it to Leslie. I don’t mind.”

Dick hesitated before responding. “Fine.”

A few aspirin, couple of tests, and a trip to Leslie’s later, Bruce found himself walking in through the front door of the penthouse, antibiotics in hand. He nearly tripped over Damian’s sneakers, scattered carelessly in the little mud room. Kicking of his own shoes, he moved the little sneakers to the shoe rack, struck for a moment by how small they were.

Making his way into the living room, he found Dick, half asleep on the caramel-colored couch. He clicked off the television, turning off some nature show, Dick’s attention pivoting to him.

“You came back?” He whispered, almost too quiet to hear, but surprise evident all the same – eyes widening, jaw dropping, before he caught himself and returned to a blank expression. Bruce nodded, passing him the medication before settling in a nearby armchair. Two empty mugs sat on the low table, rich aroma still lingering in the air (ginger if his nose was right), though Damian was nowhere to be seen.

His eyes lingered on the mugs – they were handmade, one in the Batman color scheme, the other matching the Robin costume. He’d taken a sculpting class with Dick years ago; they’d made similar ones together. Dick’s was likely in pieces, lost under the rubble of his old apartment, and Tim accidentally knocked his off a table years ago. He tore his eyes away – it made since for Dick to carry on the tradition with his Robin, he just… regretted never making another.

He watched as Dick fumbled with the container, his heart sinking at the uncoordinated attempts to twist off the lid. Bruce swiped it back, popping off the lid, and passing him a pill along with a bottle of water.

The surprise in Dick’s voice weighed on his mind – surely – Dick didn’t expect for him to leave him alone in such a state? Yes – he knew Dick was an adult – knew he could take care of himself – but Alfred wasn’t around if he took a turn for the worse, he couldn’t just leave that for Damian. Worry crept into the pit of his stomach, Alfred had been gone weeks, were there more illnesses Dick hadn’t been reporting? More injuries? Why? Because he didn’t think he would care? He didn’t want to burden Damian? He was too busy to-

“Bruce, quit brooding, I was just surprised you got back so fast.” Dick spoke slowly in carefully low tones, scooting back into a sitting position on the further end of the couch. Curling into a ball, he wrapped the blanket he’d grabbed early tighter, shivering under it. Internally, Bruce cringed at the sight before turning back to his thoughts.

“Hmm.” That wasn’t what Dick said, or why he was surprised. “You didn’t think I was coming back.” It came out more statement than question. Dick coughed lightly, avoiding a response. “I’d like to know why.”

Dick shrugged, too timed to be nonchalant. “You have casework to do.” He wouldn’t meet his gaze, busying himself pulling the blanket even tighter around his shoulders. “I’m an adult. I can handle being sick.”

“I know.” He hummed disbelievingly, his worry growing – Dick had a knack for lying – he really wasn’t feeling well if he was this easy to read. “You know I wouldn’t-”

“Don’t.” Dick warned, cutting him off with a glare. “If Alfred was here, you’d already be gone.” There was an edge of bitterness to his voice, a knowing look in his eyes.

“I…” <em>Haven’t visited in weeks because I feel strange around you and Damian,</em> his mind supplied helpfully.

“I know it hurts to see your…” Dick paused for a moment, catching his breath. “Family like this. Just don’t try to deny it, you disappear every time I get hurt.” <em>Or kick you me out,</em> went unsaid.

Bruce threw an arm over his eyes, taking a moment to lean back against the recliner. For so long, he’d been focused on just getting back to the present, getting back to his kids. But… coming back meant facing up to the times he’d been less than a good father… or older brother… whatever he and Dick had all those years ago.

He took a moment, examining a few memories, his behavior after the Two-Face case, the time Dick was shot in the shoulder, even how he’d acted the first few weeks Dick was at the manor – relentlessly pursuing justice rather than spend time with his ward. It was no secret to most he had regrets. He’d changed since then – never acted like that with Jason. Didn’t disappear after Tim’s father died. He’d changed, but he never –

“I’m sorry.” They stared at each other, speaking in tandem. Bruce’s jaw dropped as Dick continued.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t live up to your standards, I know I disappointed you tonight, I shouldn’t have brought the past up, you don’t have to stay-” His words came out hurriedly, rushed and pained.

“Dick.” Bruce hadn’t thought his heart could sink any lower, but somehow, it dropped to the bottom of his gut, his throat closing uncomfortably.

“I’m doing my best, I thought I’d be fine, I just really needed information tonight and I couldn’t go out tomorrow because I need to help Tim, and now I’m going to have to call in Steph, and Barbara’s gonna be upset, and Tim’ll be mad, and it’s Damian’s first week of school, I took him out of homeschool because you wanted him to go to Gotham Academy, but he hates it and he won’t go to bed on time, and I have a board meeting in the morning I’m not prepared for-”

“Richard.” Bruce tried to interrupt, but Dick was rambling, his hands shaking as he pressed one to his forehead, his voice growing frantic. Bruce moved to sit next to the mugs.

“-I know I’m letting you down, you came back to a mess and I’m still trying to get everything settled, and Jason’s still loose god knows where, and I can’t take three steps off this couch without feeling like I’m about to collapse and now I’m taking up your time too for nothing because I’m fine and I can handle this and you should just go back to your case because it’s more important and-”

“Richard John Grayson.” He squeezed Dick’s shoulder, waiting for him to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.” Dick bit his lip, face flushed. Bruce froze, not sure where to go from here. He had more to say, but for some reason, he couldn’t speak. Dick blinked, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, and for a moment Bruce could pretend he was eight years old again – and just like that, he knew what to do.

Leaning forward, he wrapped Dick in a hug, gently patting his back (hopefully breaking some mucus loose). Alarm bells rang in his mind – Dick was warm – too warm, but he ignored them, just holding his son steady as his ragged breath went smooth.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stick around before, I know better now, and I’ll stay this time if you’ll let me.” He paused, gathering his thoughts, releasing Dick back against a stack of pillows. He dropped his elbows to his knees, letting his head drop into his hands. He could fix this.

“You’ve done better than I could have imagined, given the circumstances. Better than I did when I was your age.” He ran Dick’s words through his mind again. “I’ll stay until you’re well. I’ll talk to Tim and Barbara. I’ll figure out where Jason went. I’ll talk to Damian about school, though you might have better luck than me on that one-”

“You’re kidding me he listened to you perfectly earlier.” Dick muttered, tucking his chin between his knees.

“-only because we had a shared goal, and that goal was assisting you.” Bruce continued. “I’ll call Lucius, get him to reduce your hours. I-we can fix this. Just…” his voice caught in his throat. “Get well soon.” Dick, well he was right, it was painful to see him so worn out. It seemed… unnatural, seeing him sick, though he’d seen him ill plenty of times before.

Dick glanced at him, then dropped his gaze, fidgeting with the corner of a little throw blanket. “I’m being pathetic. Bruce. I’m sorry, I can handle this.” He looked back up, determination swimming in his bleary blue eyes. “You don’t need to stay.”

Bruce sighed exasperatedly. “I know. Do you remember the time I got mono? Back when you were a kid?” Dick thought for a moment before nodding.

“Alfred wouldn’t let you leave your room. We played Uno.” He noted.

“And Go-Fish, checkers, chess, and every other game we own. And Clark and Lucius covered for me for two months. And I hated staying put but playing games with you made time fly.” He leaned forward, slipping an arm around Dick, pulling him up again, and heading towards his room. “I’ll let you in on a secret. I would have cut the recovery time in half if I didn’t escape out the window two weeks in. Dick… you aren’t letting me down if you let me cover for you, consider it payback.”

Dick gasped dramatically, only to let out a few weak coughs. “You didn’t! …Actually, I already knew. Alfred and I picked you up after you got your ass kicked, remember?” He shook his head. “I know it’s stupid to go out sick, I saw you do it and I hated it I wouldn’t do that to Damian or you.” He paused, leaving them in uncomfortable silence. “Uh. No offense. Just… you believe me, right? I wouldn’t have gone out if I thought I wouldn’t come back.”

Bruce paused, giving Dick a long look. Memories of Superman’s panicked call coming over his comms, Dick rushing into nuclear wastelands without protection. They’d come a long way since then, Dick had come a long way in the year he’d been gone. “I believe you.”

Dick let out a long breath as they turned into his bedroom. “Okay.” Bruce propped pillows as Dick faceplanted into bed.

“Sleep well.” He murmured, throwing the comforter over him. Dick turned, shooting him a half smile, not making any moves towards the nice stack of pillows. He clicked on a humidifier on his way towards the door, shutting off the lights as he left. “I’m proud of you.”

As he closed the door, leaving it open just a crack, he heard a tired voice whisper “Thanks.”

[putas-in-suffering]

Take Me To The Moon

Pairing: EZ Reyes x Latina!OC (Original Character)

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, lap dancing, grinding on EZ’s massive body, vague descriptions of sex, the real warning here is that EZ is getting a lap dance with a full on erection and he can’t do anything about it (the horror! 🤭)

Word Count: 3.4K

Summary: We’re taking a peek into the private room that Luna led EZ to. Did sparks fly? Or did EZ just end up getting exactly what he paid for?

A/N: Our sucias asked and we delivered! We got front row seats to the show Luna decided to put on for EZ. It’s got us jealous and ready to secure some clear heels for that stage because we want a man like EZ in our private room all day 😜! Annnnnnd, your putas have been feeling this Stripper-verse we created so guess who also gets more time to shine? Angel and his dancer girlfriend. We’ve got another part written and all we gotta say is: it goes down in the champagne room 🥂😏. We’ll be posting that within the next week. If you aren’t caught up on the newest gentlemen’s club of Santo Padre 🍒🍒, read here to see what all the fuss is about. And any music by The Weeknd has become the soundtrack for these fellas and their ladies, so indulge. Alright, you guys know the drill...enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

A/N part dos: Angel’s dancer girlfriend is reader insert, but to make it easier we’ve nicknamed her Candy/Dulce for story flow purposes.

Luna perked up at the sight of EZ in the booth, silently thanking Candy for the introduction. He was all thick muscle and soft eyes. A deadly combination in her opinion. It’d make her job easier. And it’d been a long time since she’d danced for someone she found remotely attractive.

She’d been ready to make her way to the politician’s corner, the section riddled with old white men with dirty pockets and even dirtier hands. They were a rowdy bunch, but they always gave cash away, sometimes five hundred dollars at a time. Santo Padre’s civil servants were hard at work spending taxpayers’ money at The Cherry Stem Gentlemen’s Club.

Candy had been dating Angel for a while now, a fact well-known amongst the girls. They all vied for the bikers’ attention, yearning to be in the spot Candy had carved out for herself. It was a nice setup and Luna had thought about asking her to introduce her to some of the guys, but she didn’t want to step on any toes. The women could be territorial and she wasn’t about to make an enemy out of Candy.

Thankfully, Candy had reached out and practically laid EZ in her palm. Luna had a sneaking suspicion it was more than a business proposition, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Candy was a veteran and knew her way around the club, both with its customers and the dancers. Luna would take all the help she could get, especially since the other girls seemed dead-set on excluding her.

“Hi, EZ,” She’d greeted upon seeing him, her faux lashes batting seductively down at him.

He straightened, a cute smile on his face as he shifted in his seat. “Hi.”

She moved to sit in his lap, grateful that Angel and Candy were no longer watching. She admitted to herself that she was slightly nervous, wanting to make a good impression, both for profit and personal interests.

EZ opened his arms, letting her settle onto his firm thigh as he held her in place. He kept a hold of his beer in his other hand, taking a long pull when she crossed her legs.

The short sheer skirt she wore rode up, offering up more flesh for his viewing pleasure. Her breasts were pushed up and together in the slinky black bra she wore. The lingerie was decorated with fine flakes of silver crystals, giving off the illusion of a starry night sky. She preferred to wear black at the club. In an array of vibrant colors and neons, she stood out in the sleek ensembles she chose.

His eyes tried hard to stay on her face, but they predictably went to her cleavage every time her lungs expanded with a breath. She let her arm curve around his shoulders and scratch at the nape of his neck with her long nude nails.

“Are you comfortable?” She asked, her glossed lips pulling into a warm smile.

He nodded, his touch radiating throughout her body as he began running a finger up and down her hip. “Yeah, you?”

Luna couldn’t help it…she giggled. She was amused by his concern, enamored with the careful way he held her. It was a far cry from most of the riffraff that made its way into the club.

“Very.” She replied, brushing her nails over the back of his head. She was pleased to feel him shudder in response, his body telling a story entirely on its own.

“So,” She started, her free hand playing with the lapel of his kutte. “How long have you been a bad boy?”

He chuckled, licking his lips before he spoke. The action pulled an instant response from her body, her thighs clenching against each other as blood rushed to her lower half.

“Is that what I am?”

“You seem like it. Member of an MC. Doesn’t seem so innocent to me.” She explained as she fingered the patches on his leather, outlining the embroidered words with her nail.

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“What’d you do before the MC then?” She challenged, arching a brow as she waited for him to answer. She had a feeling there was more to his story...more she wanted to know.

He repeated the action that had made her pussy come to life, licking his full lips. He shook his head and laughed, understanding he’d been caught.

“Inmate at Stockton State Prison.”

Luna couldn’t control the way her body responded. It was if he’d said the most romantic thing possible. Her nipples hardened while her hips shifted, her ass seeking out some form of friction. She was practically preening for him, a primal urge suddenly wild within her.

EZ noticed too. Because his eyes caught every movement, every subtle action that said she was more than interested in his rap sheet.

“You like that?” He asked, voice low and dangerously close. His breath fanned across her skin, making her nipples pebble further against the fabric of her bra.

She nodded, biting her lip.

“I’ve got a taste for bad boys.” She replied, just as low and just as close.

His fingers tangled in the ends of her long hair, his eyes watching her face closely as he took in her words. The moment was electric with tension and unexplored chemistry. It was a taste of what could be.

A moan permeated the air, both of them realizing simultaneously that the sound hadn’t come from either of their lips. They turned, seeing Angel and Candy in a heated embrace. Hands and lips clashed as the couple ignored everyone around them.

“Are they always like this?” Luna asked, eyes taking in the blatant display of affection.

“Yeah...in a few seconds they’ll probably start fucking.” EZ quipped.

She laughed at his joke, though the seriousness was apparent in his eyes. She decided to grasp at the moment, confident that he’d follow her wherever she led him.

“You wanna go somewhere else?” She whispered into his ear, letting her lips touch his flesh.

He turned and stared at her for a long moment. Long enough that she doubted her ability to persuade him. But soon enough he was nodding.

“Yeah.”

She smiled, standing with his help and leading him out of the section. They maneuvered through the winding path of tables and chairs to the dark purple hallway of the private rooms. There were black doors on each side, some open, some closed to indicate occupancy. She led him to the very last door on the right, seeing it was vacant.

He followed her closely, letting her pull him into the darkened room and shutting the door behind him. Music already echoed through the speakers. The haunting melody a perfect choice for the performance she had in mind.

She took his hand once again and directed him to the black leather couch, indicating she wanted him to sit. He did so, legs spreading wide as she stood between them.

“Are you nervous?” She asked, noticing the way he smoothed his hands over his denim-clad thighs.

“Nah...are you?” He joked, smiling when she laughed.

“Nope.” She said with a shake of her head.

She started off slow, her hands traveling over her body and syncing with the sensual beat of the song. She kept her eyes on him, though she found the task difficult. He was looking at her so intensely that she felt herself wanting to blush and cower. It was a rarity for her to be nervous with the patrons. He was an exception...in many ways.

She turned around and bent her upper body forward, dragging her skirt down to fully reveal the black thong she wore underneath. The skirt cleared her thighs and fell to the floor, her foot kicking the material away. She looked over her shoulder, flipping her hair so that she could see him. His gaze was centered on her ass, until he noticed her staring. She took the opportunity to bend nearly in half at the waist, almost revealing all of what the thin scrap of material barely concealed.

She took note of the way his hips shifted, the muscle in his jaw tightening. It turned her on to know the kind of effect she had on him. It was exhilarating...a rush like nothing she’d ever remembered feeling before.

Luna played with the waistband of her panties as she straightened, teasingly pulling them down to reveal bare flesh before she pulled them back up again. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her, feel it searing her skin with every touch of her hands and swivel of her hips. She reached for the clasp of her bra as she lowered her ass into his lap and brushed against his crotch, wanting to feel a hardness push back. He remained still though, unmoving as she circled her hips in an erotic rhythm.

She released the claps of her bra and let the material fall down her arms as she pressed into his chest, feeling the deep measured breaths against her back. She looked up at him, catching his eye as she drew her bra away and discarded it on the floor. She cupped her breasts and threw her head back. And for once she envisioned a customer’s hands on her...EZ’s hands on her.

“You okay?” She asked, biting her lip as she stood and turned to face him.

“Yeah.” He replied simply, clearly caught up in the moment.

Her hands traveled the same path they often did when she danced. They brushed her breasts, then trailed over her stomach and hips to graze against her clothed sex. This time though, she felt a burst of pleasure with every tantalizing action, let the desire reflecting in EZ’s eyes lead her.

She knelt down and made herself level with his lap, her eyes focused solely on his. Her nails ran up the length of his thighs, skimming the muscle and tracing the metal teeth of his zipper. His hips jerked slightly, caught off guard by the intimate touch.

“What’s EZ short for?” She asked, wanting to engage him in more than just the grinding of two bodies.

He licked his lips, watching her with hooded eyes as he widened his legs further.

“Ezekiel.” He supplied, humoring her sudden curiosity.

“I like it.”

She ran her hands up his chest, still propped between his knees in an explicit display of sexual innuendo. She moved her mouth to hover over his crotch, her lips barely touching the denim.

“How long were you locked up for, Ezekiel?”

“Eight years.”

“That’s a long time to go without a woman’s touch.” She mused, pressing her bare breasts into his lap.

“It is.”

“We’ve gotta get you reacquainted.” Luna teased, using his own tactic against him as she licked her lips.

He smirked, following the motion of her tongue. “I already have.”

She pouted, standing once again.

“You trying to make me jealous, baby?” She teased, reaching for his shoulders to steady herself as she straddled him. She felt dwarfed by his size, his sturdy form practically buzzing with power beneath her. The veins in his forearms called to her as she rubbed her body along his, feeling the gathering wetness pooling in her panties.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Maybe.” She said with a playful lilt, leaning in close to the amused smirk he wore. She pressed her naked chest against his clothed one, taking satisfaction in the way he bit his lip.

“Don’t be. I’m here.” He said, the conviction in his tone demanding she believe him.

She did.

Her hips brushed against the zipper of his jeans again and this time she felt a distinct firmness that hadn’t been there before. She noticed the way he clenched his fists at his sides, as if he was using every ounce of strength he possessed to not reach out and touch her. She respected his restraint, but she didn’t necessarily want it.

“You wanna touch me, don’t you baby?” She purred into his ear, hands running up the length of his arms and down to the tightened fists at his sides.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to.” He replied, voice now heavy with lust.

“You aren’t.” She pulled back to look him in the eye, letting him take in all of her as she sat astride him. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you to.” She confessed, continuing to rock her hips along his.

EZ’s eyes shifted, her words triggering him in the most delicious way. He caught on to her hints, realizing she was doing more than performing for a customer. She was letting him experience her in a way no other client had before.

He seized on the moment.

“How do you want me to touch you? Show me.” He commanded roughly, using his chin to gesture to her body.

Luna smiled, excitement running through her veins as she lifted a hand to her neck and gripped it softly, showing him just what she wanted.

“Your hand here.”

“You like that?” He questioned, eyes zeroed in on the way her hand held her throat. It was as if he got lost in the picture she painted, already envisioning his calloused hands around her delicate neck, squeezing.

“Mmmm…” She hummed in response, closing her eyes as she applied pressure.

“What else?”

She released her throat and trailed her hands down and over her breasts, cupping them together as she encouraged her nipples into peaks.

“Just like that?” He asked, noticing the way she tugged at the sensitive flesh.

“Yes…” She moaned, feeling his hips rising for the first time to meet hers.

“Keep going.”

“Then I want you to touch me...” She trailed off, skimming her palms down her stomach, aiming for the juncture between her thighs. She stopped at the last minute, meeting his stare as she switched course. “Here.” She finished, reaching around and grabbing her ass.

The vein in his neck throbbed as she continued to provoke him. He swallowed when she played with the waistband of her panties again, pushing the fabric down just far enough that he could see bare skin along her pubic bone. She let the elastic snap back into place, her hands now cupping her pussy.

“This is where I want you to touch me the most.” She revealed, locking her dark eyes with his.

He bit his lip and she swore she could hear a growl reverberate through his chest.

“When?” He asked, testing the boundaries.

Instead of answering, she raised herself onto her knees and maneuvered herself so that she was now on all fours, his body beneath her. She angled her ass, arching her back and lowering her upper body onto the couch at his right. He was entranced by her motions, eyes transfixed on her ass as she wiggled her hips, causing the flesh to bounce.

“Whenever you want.” She purred, letting her ankles cross in the air. Her six-inch heels dangled from her feet, a show of hyper femininity and a weapon of seduction. The glossy black material reflected the purple and pink lights of the room, the thick heel a heavy weight on her feet.

Luna moved onto her back, draping herself across EZ’s lap. He looked down at her, her head propped on one thigh while the rest of her body was spread out across the other. She stretched like a feline as she nuzzled into his warmth, angling her breasts up and wordlessly pleading with him to look. And he did.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She asked, hips still swaying in time to the sultry tune that wafted through the air.

He nodded, signaling for her to continue.

“You’re pretty cute.”

He snickered.

“Thanks.” He said with a chuckle and he had the decency to look somewhat bashful. “You aren’t too bad yourself.”

She laughed, her hands running the length of her body as she soaked up the unadulterated yearning he rained down on her. She felt desired, beyond sexy at the way he visually devoured her. Not just lusted after, but wanted, in every way. It felt intoxicating. He made her want to break all the rules, some of which she already had. And there wasn’t a single ounce of regret to be found.

“I should hope so. Unless it’s not me that’s got you hard.” She teased, pushing against the prominent bulge in his jeans.

“It’s definitely you.”

“Good to know.” She quipped, easing herself up. She straddled him once again, addicted to the way he made her feel in that position. She could smell his cologne, the scent now stuck to her skin like errant specks of glitter. She hoped it never washed off.

“Time’s up?” He guessed, meeting her gaze.

She nodded, not wanting the moment to end, but she knew if she didn’t they’d end up crossing a line. One she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to cross. At least not so soon.

It was one thing to admit she wanted him. It was another to act on it. And while she’d let him know he could have her at any time, he didn’t seem ready to cash in on her words just yet either. They both seemed content to let the sexual tension of their private moment simmer, giving it a chance to boil over into carnal passion.

He reached into his back pocket, but she held a hand out to stop him.

“It’s on the house. Think of it as a gift for your newfound freedom.”

“I can’t let you do that.” He said with a shake of his head, pulling his wallet out anyway.

“It’s done.”

He pulled a crisp hundred from a wad of cash and handed it over to her, forcing it into her hand.

“Tip.”

She shook her head, shocked by the gesture. “It’s too much.”

“It’s done.” He stated, throwing her own words back at her. He wore a proud smile, pleased with himself as he stuffed his wallet back in his pocket.

“You’re not such a bad boy after all.” She teased with a wink as she got up and found her skirt and bra.

He stood, standing back while she slipped the clothing back on. She reached behind her to clasp the bra back in place, but he beat her to it, his touch gentle as he fastened it.

“Thanks.” She said over her shoulder, catching his eye.

“No problem.”

“Do you-,” She started, gesturing to his crotch. “You need a minute?”

He laughed, looking down as he shook his head. “Nah, I just gotta think about Gilly in a dress and I’m good.”

Luna joined in on the laughter as she reached for his hand and began to lead him out of the room. They took the same path they’d taken earlier to reach the section of outlaw bikers. Another dancer was on stage, her music upbeat and pulsing as she swung around the pole effortlessly. It was a captivating sight. The men seated around the stage took it in with both awe-struck faces and hard dicks.

They made it to the thin veil of curtains and Luna was just about to pull the fabric back when EZ tugged at her hand, halting her. She turned towards him, hand still clutched in his.

“Thanks, Luna,” He started, licking his lips once again and sealing her date with her vibrator that night. “For the dance.”

“You’re welcome, Ezekiel.” She beamed, shying under his praise.

“Is that your real name?” He asked, letting his own curiosity show.

“My middle name. Yessenia...that’s my real name.” She admitted, feeling his thumb begin to brush over the back of her hand.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Do you always make strippers blush?” She challenged with a grin, narrowing her eyes up at him playfully.

“Only the pretty ones.” He retorted with a wink.

“Charmer.”

“I’ve gotta be if I wanna see you again.”

Luna watched his face carefully, seeing nothing but truth as he flashed a boyish grin down at her. He towered over her, even with the heels. He surrounded her in every way possible and she was surprised by how much she liked that.

“Is that what you want?” She dared to ask.

“Yeah, it is.” He answered, a relaxed grin making its way onto his bearded lips. “And you? Is that what you want?” He repeated to her, stepping a fraction of an inch closer.

She waited a long moment before responding, enjoying watching him squirm as he anticipated her reply. She reached up and brushed a finger over his lips, feeling his breath hit her skin.

“Yeah, EZ...come and see me again.”

Sucia Tag List:

@marvelmaree

@visintaes

@otomefromtheheart

@aquarius-smr-writing

@glimmerglittergirl

@arveeee

@fangirlingaesthetics

@maciiiofficial

@woahitslucyylu

@angelreyesgirl

@ifoundmyhappythought

@mheart27

@collegegirl83

@luna8819

@enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat

@everyhowlmarksthedead

@whatupitshuff

@noz4a2

@thesandbeneathmytoes

@minnicelli

@claytoncardenasbabymama

@brattyfics

@starrynite7114

@losolvidad0s

[ladyseara]

Infinity is just the beginning (1/?)

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Rating: Mature

Tags: Nano Kojiro / Kaoru Sakurayashiki, Kaoru Sakurayashiki / Shindo Ainosuke (one-sided), Langa Hasegawa / Reki Kyan, Alpha / Beta / Omega Dynamics, Fantasy AU no one asked for, Miya Chinen is Joe’s son and I mean it, Miya Chinen is an illegitimate child, Forced marriage, Political marriage, Elf!Cherry, Demon!Joe, Elf!Adam, Carla is half-human / half-Elf.

Words: 2141

Kaoru Sakurayashiki knew his value and his place as an Omega Prince. He might have been born as a High Prince, descendant of the great Sakurayashiki House, which rules the Sun Elvish Kingdom, but at the end of the day, beside his lineage, he was still an Omega, a child who cannot ascend the throne. Of course, for his whole life he was treated with the respect and care he deserved, being prepared to become a suitable First Prince, until his brother, Langa, was born. The small Alpha has quickly taken his place in the line, but Kaoru was not angry with that. He loved his brother deeply, maybe even more than he loved his parents.

The High Prince, after his baby brother was born, got the freedom he never knew before. He was growing up, throwing himself into his studies. He was spoken to be the wisest of the family, more intelligent even than his grandfather, who was believed to be the greatest king in the history of the Elvish Kingdom. Many thought that if only he wouldn’t have been born as an Omega, he could have achieved even more. Kaoru was not only brilliant, he was brave and he was a visionary. He was not afraid of combining magic with technology, creating weapons and useful tools.

If he would had been born as at least Beta, he could have lead the army. But Kaoru was not concerned about that too.

The reason behind that was the Moon Elvish Kingdom’s Prince, Shindo Ainosuke. They met when they were both six years old. Firstly too shy to talk to each other, soon they realized they share a lot. Their parents were friends, so Kaoru and Shindo spend a lot of time together growing up. At some point, Kaoru was charmed by a young Alpha. They even shared a messy, a bit tipsy kiss in the garden, during some party. At that time Kaoru knew that one day he will marry this man. The Union between Sun Elves and Moon Elves, an alliance against the Demon Empire. Shindo, the Alpha, would lead their army to the victory on the battlefield, and he, Kaoru, would lead the rest of the country as his Consort. The mere thought of them, living such a bright future, was enough to send shivers down his spine.

One can only imagine Kaoru’s confidence, when at the day of his 19thbirthday, he was summoned by his father to his study. Omega Prince already knew the news: he will get married soon, in less than a month, in order to seal the alliance. He was more than ready to leave his title as a Sun Prince behind and become the Consort of the Moon King. Kaoru could only imagine new opportunities, lying in front of him. He was dreaming big.

“My King”, he said, greeting his father with a little bow. “You have requested my presence.”

“Yes, Kaoru. Sit down please.”

Kaoru sat in front of his father desk. He enjoyed the atmosphere of the King’s study. The room could be a little dusty, but it smelled of pine trees and lemon. One of the servants put a cup of tea in front of him and left quietly. “I think you are aware of the topic we need to rise today, Kaoru.”, his father looked a bit tired. His hair has turned white few years ago, but they used to be the same color as Langa’s.

“Yes, father.”, Kaoru said respectfully. “I know my duty as a Prince. I will marry the King.”, he said with a little smile on his lips. Of course he would marry The Moon King. Shindo was his friend, and now he will become his husband and lover…

“I am pleased to hear that, my son. I must admit that I was worried at the beginning. You were not raised like other Omegas and I was expecting you to rebel against my decision.”

“My King, I could never. The Union of two Elvish kingdoms will bring peace-”

“Kaoru, wait,” his father interrupted him. “I think you got the wrong idea, my child. You are not going to marry King Ainosuke.”

His world fell apart. Kaoru opened his mouth a bit, like a fish out of water, unable to breathe. He must be dreaming some nightmare. It could not have been real. Marrying Shindo Ainosuke was his destiny. There were friends, they would make such a good couple… It could not get worse.

“The Moon King was not interested in your hand,” his father explained. “Moreover, I think our Langa should marry Ainosuke’s younger brother. You, my child, you will marry The Demon King.”

Oh. So it could be worse.

“What-.. Father, please. Think about it again,” Kaoru said, pale and shocked.

“You have told me you know your duty, Kaoru. Your marriage will ensure the peace between us and The Demon Empire.”

Kaoru was thinking fast. He had to do something in order to stop this madness. There had to be a way for him to avoid being wedded to the barbarian Demon King. He needed to contact Shindo quickly. If The Moon King will hear about this, he would definitely change his mind and marry Kaoru, the Omega was sure about that. Ainosuke would never let Kaoru be taken away to The Demon Empire, moreover, to be married off to the brutal Alpha. He had a month, a whole month to cancel this insane plan and came up with a better one…

“Our guests will be here tomorrow, Kaoru,” his father said, as if he knew what was going through his son’s head. “Both The Demon King and The Moon King. We are going to sing a pact and then you will marry Nanjo Kojiro, The Demon King, and our Langa will be engaged to Prince Reki.”

“What?”, Kaoru could felt his lips moving on their own. “Aino.. The Moon King knew about that?”

“Of course he knew, Kaoru. It was his plan after all.”

“Master, are you alright?”

Carla’s quiet, emotionless voice brought him back to reality. Kaoru did not sleep that night. He was betrayed by the whole world. All his plans, dreams, ideas… All was destroyed in one moment. Both his family and his friend sold him to The Demon King. He was a tool, a bribe to The Demon Empire. Of course, he understood the reasons behind that. Langa, an Alpha, had to marry and Omega, so Prince Reki was a perfect candidate. And there was not a need to unite two countries with two marriages, so the spot for Kaoru’s husband was left open. Selling him off to the Demons were the best idea. Even if he dies, not matter how and when, Demons will be shackled with the pact. Moreover, if he dies after he gives birth to the Demon King’s heir, the child will link two counties even harder.

“Master? You look…”

“Terrible, I know”, Kaoru replied, looking at himself in the mirror. He was dressed in furisode, white with cherry blossoms embroidered at the bottom of the sleeves. His pink hair was carefully combed and Carla put a cherry blossom hair pin into it. She also put a little make up on his face, to cover dark circles under his eyes.

“Worried. You are worried, my Lord,” the girl said. She learned about the future of her master and decided to go to the Demon Empire with him. Kaoru saved her few years back and it was her duty to protect him. “And I am no surprised.”

Kaoru looked at her in the mirror. Carla’s skin was darker than his, she had black hair and purple eyes. She was half-human, half-elvish. Many would despise her, but Kaoru found her pretty, smart and loyal. He could not imagine his life without her anymore.

“Thank you, Carla. I think we should get going. Our… guests… will be here soon.”

“I overheard the guards, Master. The Moon King and his people are already in the Capital. The Demons were spotted near the border, they will be here in less than an hour.”

Less than an hour and he will meet his future husband. Less than a twelve hours and he will be married to The Demon King. Less than a day and he will be mated to the barbarian King. In less than two days, he will leave the Sun Elvish Kingdom ans travel up north, to The Demon Empire. He would be lucky if he dies in the meantime.

Kaoru was scared. When he was thinking about being wedded to the Shindo, he was a bit nervous, but sure that their intercourse would be gentle, sweet even. He was dreaming about The Moon King caressing his body, worshiping it before they connect with each other. Kaoru was dreaming about children, with blue or pink hair, running around and making their lives even more meaningful. Now he was scared that The Demon King will force him every night to sleep with him, force his body into his until Kaoru will give him an heir. He will simply fuck him, like a whore.

“Master, you are…”

“It’s fine, Carla. I’m ready.”, the Omega Prince said, wiping a tear from his cheek. He was an Omega Prince, who knows his duty. His life and his body do not matter, if he could buy a peaceful life for his people with it.

Kaoru stood at the top of the stairs, when Demons arrived. He was holding his head high, forcing a little smile on his lips. He will never show his fears and anxiety to those, who were around him. For them he was a definition of the perfection, and Kaoru was more than ready to uphold his reputation. He could be falling apart on the inside, but on the outside he will never show.

Of course, the first person he spotted, was The Demon King himself. Riding the biggest horse Kaoru has ever seen in his life, the Alpha was dressed all in black. He had green hair, which makes him look like a giant tree. When The Demon King came closer, Kaoru saw small horns at the top of his head, partly hidden inside of his hair. The Alpha was smiling lightly, with such confidence, that it made Kaoru annoyed.

The Omega Prince was not small, but when the Alpha dismounted the horse, Kaoru straightened up. It did not help much; he still was smaller than the Alpha and the top of his head reached slightly above the place the heart should be, if The Demon King had one.

“I shall welcome you, my guests,” Kaoru’s father took a step towards the Demons. Elves and Demons have not met since the last war. Kaoru knew his father and The Demon King must have exchanged letters, but this… This was a milestone in their history.

“King Sakurayashiki,” The Demon King smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

When the Demon moved his hand, Kaoru was sure he is going to stab the Elvish King. But instead they simply shook their hands as a greeting. Then the Demon welcomed The Moon King the same way. He exchanged few words with the nobles, at the end finally standing before him. “I hope,” the Demon King smiled to Kaoru’s father, “That his is your precious son.”

“You got it right, Lord Nanjo. This is my older son, Kaoru. The one who is betrothed to you.”

Kaoru felt a lump in his throat. He was glad he hadn’t listened to Carla and haven’t eaten anything, because at that moment he felt nausea. What a great beginning it would be, if he throw up on his fiancee feet.

The Alpha was big. Bigger than any man Kaoru knew. His shoulder were large and Omega was sure that The Demon King could kill anybody with his bare hands. For what reason he had a sword, attached to his belt, if he clearly does not need it? Moreover, he smelled like a danger. A mixed scent of sweat and sandalwood.

“You wasn’t making this up,” the Demon King said, “When you wrote me he is beautiful.”

Kaoru felt anger, boiling inside him. Does the Demon Lord think that he is deaf? He was talking with his father about him, without actually speaking directly to the Omega! Disrespectful ogre, Kaoru thought, but bit his tongue.

“Good afternoon, my dear Prince”, the Demon King finally spoke to him. “Forgive me my surprise, but you are breathtaking.”

Kaoru used his fan to cover half of his face, forcing a small smile. You were fine breathing and talking nonce just a second ago, you brainless gorilla, he thought.

“Welcome to the Sun Elvish Kingdom, my Lord.”

I hope you will die during this trip, Kaoru added in his mind.

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clan part 64!

Tags: @scentedcandlecryptid @selfindulgenz 

The streets were alive with the presence of yokai, potentially thousands of them, all gathered where there would normally be humans. They didn't seem to be doing much of anything other than simply mulling around at a slow and casual pace, some of them in small groups happily chatting while others were on their own but just as happy. A few had even taken to sunbathing in the streets, sprawling themselves out on the hot asphalt to soak in the sun; the yokai didn't seem to discriminate between road and sidewalk when it came to exploring, treating it all instead as one big walkway.

“What’s going on?” Raphael asked, his lips pulled down in a frown. “Why are all the yokai out?”

Michelangelo was beaming ear to ear, eyes brighter than gemstones, “There’s no humans in the city! Well— except for April and Casey— so the yokai can come up and enjoy the sunshine! It’s a first for a lot of them; actual, warm sunshine!”

Donatello focused his goggles on the streets below, flicking from yokai to yokai to yokai. A mother rabbit trying to coax her four tiny babies out of the shadows they cowered in. An old kappa holding their beak to the sky with their eyes closed under the bliss of sunbeams. Two young avians wrestling, tumbling about in the streets much to the laughing delight of several nearby yokai.

“They seem to be enjoying themselves.” Donatello commented. “The weather is quite nice.”

“Come on!”

Michelangelo once more grabbed his brothers and urged them onward, down into the streets where they melted into the crowd of yokai without a second glance being cast their way, because they were normal in the eyes of all yokai and nothing to judge. The tight, suffocating nature of the crowd quickly thinned when they reached central park, where the yokai were just as plentiful but more spread out. Some of them had split off into tight family or friend groups, while others were wandering around, either going group to group searching for someone to embrace them into their fold or simply wandering to enjoy the day.

All around them wafted the lovely scents of grilling meats and the alluring, fruity temptation of beautifully assembled fruits. Multiple families shared each of the grills, as there wasn’t enough to go around, and mingled together to enjoy the combined meals. Michelangelo was quick to grow frustrated as his family slowed to gawk in awe at the different groups, Raphael practically drooling over the meaty spendor while Leonardo was more interested in trying to identify all the different yokai, and Donatello was furiously taking notes on their behavior and how they interacted.

Eventually they made it through the crowd and to the only grill that wasn’t already surrounded by dozens; this grill only had three people. Cassandra was setting out plating and snacks far too eagerly, fussing around to make sure it was perfect while April and Sunita were together at the grill. Raphael licked his chops to collect slobber that threatened to drip, so overwhelmed with all the different, meaty options that he got dizzy looking between all of them.

April laughed; she was in a beautiful sundress, her hair done up in braids with beads woven in between, tight against her scalp. She picked a shrimp from the pile and tossed it through the air at Raphael, who caught it in his mouth with a great big SNAP!

“That’s all, big guy.” April said, smirking as she pointed the meat fork at him, “Gotta wait for it all to be done.”

Raphael whined like a dog denied a second treat. Leonardo and Donatello both came up on either side of April to take advantage of the wafting aroma, breathing in deeply and then sighing out slow.

“Smells great!” Leonardo beamed, leaning his head on April’s shoulder.

“Damn well better.” April said confidently, “My mama taught me well!”

“She sure did…” Donatello drooled.

April produced two more shrimp and popped them into either of the twins mouths, making both melt with the euphoric juices.

“We saved the damn world!” April spun around, showing off her kiss-the-cook apron, “I’ll be damned if we ain’t gonna enjoy it!”

Leonardo's eyes wandered until they fell upon a familiar lump of gray in the river, drifting lazily by on an inflatable raft; a speck among a sea of visitors swarming the waters.

“Dad?” Leonardo gawked, and upon his realization all his brothers came to realize the same.

The brothers split apart from the girls and cautiously made their way down the rocks to the rivers shore, Raphael reaching out to snag Splinter’s raft so he couldn’t drift away from them. Splinter opened a lazy eye and snorted not unlike a horse disturbed from its slumber.

“Can’t a rat sleep in peace?” He grumbled.

Leonardo’s attention was drawn away from Splinter as motion under the water proved far more interesting. A tilt of his head and a refocus of his eyes brought him to concentrate instead on the beings under the water; aquatic yokai were swimming along under the rafts, creating a lazy-river of sorts for those floating on the top. They didn't seem to mind it at all.

“Where’d you get the raft, pops?” Raphael asked, giving a faint laugh, “Doesn’t look like any of ours.”

“That’s because it’s not.” Splinter said, reaching to tweak Raphael’s hand in such a way that he had no choice but to let go of the raft. The rat sank back into the plastic happily as he started to drift off again. “I traded it in exchange for stories! Yokai are the best!”

Four confused sets of eyes blinked and turned to Sunita for answers.

“Yokai are really big on trade.” Sunita said with a bright smile.

Michelangelo became suddenly aware of a gentle force tugging at his pants and, upon looking down, he was met with a tiny squid yokai. At first he didn't know what to do, but when he recognized the wide-eyes and child-like features, he kneeled to meet the child’s height.

“Hi!” Michelangelo said.

The child said nothing. He shoved something small and sticky into Michelangelo’s hands; a snail. A very small one.

“Ohh… thank you.” Michelangelo said, because he didn't know what else to say. “Domo arigatou.”

Still, the child said nothing. Instead, he pointed at the paints on Michelangelo’s chest and then at his own chest. It took a second before Michelangelo sucked in a gasp of realization and practically squealed his joy.

“Donald, I require my paints!” Michelangelo held out his snail-free hand out to Donatello.

Leonardo smirked and elbowed Donatello’s side. “He requires his paints.”

Rolling his eyes, Donatello obliged the request and he pulled the emergency paint kit out from his battle shell, passing it over to Michelangelo. The box turtles wasted no time in quickly ushering the yokai child to a nearby bench, a series of excited, high-pitched chirps sounding from him. From there, Raphael, Leonardo, and Donatello all split apart in search of a venture of their own in the yokai-filled park.

Raphael didn't get far before he heard a voice calling his name, and just as soon he was surrounded by powerful arms that heaved him up with no effort at all. Raphael’s initial instinct was to fend off an attack, but when the scent of the unseen Yokai came to him, he recognized it and began to laugh.

“King!”

King wrapped a massive arm around Raphael’s neck to keep him in a choke hold so he could repeatedly noogie the broad head. Raphael was eventually able to pull free, twirling around and tossing himself at King for a hug.

“I see my blessing worked.” King seemed to be practically glowing under the warmth of the sun, his scales a beautiful and vibrant mix of orange and red instead of the normal brown.

“Y-yeah, yeah!” Raphael nodded, a little breathless. “Yeah. Thanks again for that.”

“Was that your family?” King nodded back to where Raphael and his clan had just been gathered.

“Yeah— that’s my clan! And that’s my dad there on the river— he’s the rat.”

King nodded with a thoughtful hum. “I see your family is just as… colorful as mine. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for them if they’re ever on my side of the Hidden City.”

Raphael nodded an automatic nod with both hands on his hips. “Yeah I uh… thanks. I appreciate that.”

“INCOMING!”

Raphael looked up, confused at the shout and even more confused when he saw a fish falling right at him. King snatched the falling projectile before it could get very far, snaring it in his maw and giving a thankful grunt toward Koya as she flew once more away. King looked down at Raphael and held out the fish to him, which was still thrashing about trying to free itself from the yokai’s relentless grip.

“Oh— no thank you…” said.

King shrugged. He shifted down onto his belly, using his massive hands to pin the fish while he ripped its head clean off and gulped it down. The decapitated fishes body still struggled, which went without a bother from King as he lumbered away and over to Tang Shen who was soaking up the sun. Head bowed, he offered the rest of the fish to her and she accepted, eating it with just as much ferocity as her adoptive son.

Splinter crawled onto shore as his raft came around the bend of the lazy river once more, dragging it along with him as he went to Raphael’s side, staring at the cat and dragon duo with much the same expression as Raphael.

“Are they friends of yours?”

“Uh… that’s King. He gave me my blessing. And uh… that’s his mother Tang Shen.”

“Tang Shen huh?” Splinter eyed the cat curiously as she sucked the flesh from the bone and proceeded to rasp her tongue over the fishes skeleton to lap up any remaining flavor “What. A. Woman.”

[shinobis-of-ninjago-au]

Shinobis of Ninjago

Pilot 2: Ruler of Shadows

Prologue Pilot 1 (Pilot 2, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 ), Episode 1

After retrieving the Staff of Illusions from the Forest of Second Glances, they set off for the next weapon; the Whip of Technology. The whip hadn't been created at the same time as the rest of the Golden Weapons, making it a special case. The First Spinjitzu Master realized that with all the new innovative ways the people of Ninjago were doing things, she needed a new weapon to control the element so things never got out of hand in the future. An untraditional weapon for an untraditional element.

The whip was located in the Eastern Mountain ridges. The ninja found it strange for a weapon with such technological power to be hidden in such a remote spot, but knew better than to question Mystake.

Nya hummed from her spot pulling the Horse Carriage, her teammates huffing beside her. "I spy something green." She said.

They had started a game of I-Spy a while ago as a way to pass the time. The others had grown tired of it and instead chose solitary silence.

Seeing that no one was going to answer her, Nya sighed, shoulders slumping as she too, retreated to silence. Before, when it had just been the three of them, they had no problem making conversation. Now that Skylor was with them, things were tense.

"So, Skylor, I know ya don't like talkin' 'bout it, but how did Mystake find you? Ya don't seem like one who would become a ninja willingly." Nya was shot a deadly glare from the red-haired girl. "I-I mean, we all had something we wanted to fix in our lives, but by the way you are so focused on saving your brother, ya seem like ya had a good life before it happened."

Skylor sighed, rolling her shoulders. "I did. There was nothing wrong with the way we were living. Shipments would come in once a month and we would make good money everyday. We had good neighbours and grew a lot of our own food so we didn't have to walk into town all the time.

"Then the skeletons came looking for that estúpida map and their leader, Lady Misako, or whatever, said to take my brother. That's the only reason I'm here. As soon as he's safe I'm leaving."

"He's a year younger than you, right? He should be able ta' take care of himself until ya get there." Nya said, trying to cheer her up.

"I don't know, Nya. The Skeleton Army is very ruthless. If they believe he holds useful information, I fear what they might do to him." Pixal said.

"Uh, yeah, how about a change of topic." Seliel offered, noticing how Skylor tensed up. "It's almost noon, we can take a break once we get over this ledge."

Minutes later, they stopped, leaning the Horse Carriage up against a tree as they settled down to a light lunch. After not having breakfast for fear of the meal resurfacing, they were more than eager to eat something.

Seliel finished first and decided to re-pack the Horse Carriage, making sure everything was packed down tightly. Digging through her bag to make sure she had everything, she pulled out the map and a compass. Spreading the map out of the ground, she laid the compass in the upper left corner. Seliel frowned, tapping the compass and humming.

"What's wrong?"

Seliel looked over her shoulder, seeing the konran. "I don't know." She answered. "We're supposed to be heading North-East, but the compass is acting up." She gestured to the compass on the ground, its needle spinning around rapidly.

"That would be the whip's doing." Pixal answered as she came up beside them. "It scrambles any devices that might help locate it, much like the Staff casting illusions to confuse those who pursue it."

"If Mystake knows where it is, why isn't she leading us?" Skylor asked. "I'm not looking forward to getting lost."

"Mystake's reasoning is sometimes questionable." Pixal muttered. "She means well, but sometimes her teachings can be hard to follow, especially if they come out of the blue."

"The most powerful move in spinjitzu can only be accomplished when multiple elemental masters combine their spinjitzu." The ninja looked with confusion to where Mystake was standing. She smiled and motioned for them to start loading the carriage again.

"What happens when they're combined?" Nya asked, picking up a bag and tossing it in the back.

"The Tornado of Creation." Mystake replied. "The power to create something, out of nothing. But, be warned, if done incorrectly, it can have disastrous consequences. All beings must have a connection to one another, a bond strong enough that their physical forms will not be destroyed."

Not knowing how to follow that, the four stayed quiet as they loaded up the Horse Carriage and began their ascent of the mountain once more. When the sun began to get low in the horizon, Mystake told them to stop.

"Is something wrong, Master?" Pixal asked.

"No, we are here."

After helping Mystake dismount, the ninja followed her as she led them over the summit of the mountain into a valley of some sort. At the bottom, there lay a tall, windowless tower made of ivory. It was quite beautiful, with ivy crawling up the walls and a flower field surrounding the bottom.

When they reached the flowers, Mystake stopped walking, motioning for her students to go on without her. "You will find the whip at the top of the tower. I will be waiting at the Horse Carriage."

Without any further information, she sent them on their way. Finding large oak doors, Seliel and Nya pushed them open, the groan of unused hinges echoing through the tower. Once inside, Nya pulled out her flashlight, shining it along the walls. An ivory staircase circled the tower, disappearing into the shadows overhead. The walls were covered in gold markings, carvings of the history of the creation of the whip, starting from how it was created to how it was sealed within the tower.

"Well," Seliel began. "Let's get climbing."

The four began to climb the staircase, Nya's flashlight shining off the carvings, educating them all on the life of the Golden Weapons, a tale never before told in such detail. When they reached the landing at the top, they paused. They had to bend over in order to stand on the landing, for the ceiling was close. Pixal fingered her way along the ceiling until she found a crevice.

Pushing on the stone, it began to move slowly, but upwards nonetheless. Dust filled Pixal's nose as she gave one final shove, the stone slab coming loose, falling to the other side of the ceiling. It left a hole in the roof, maybe three feet by three feet. Crawling through, the ninja gasped in amazement at what they saw.

The whip was floating coiled in the air, a marble dragon statue lay curled around it--protecting it.

Pixal cautiously stepped forward. Pulling out a thick cloth, similar to the one they used to wrap the staff, she draped it around the whip, the golden light disappearing.

She turned back to her teammates and smiled, though it wasn't visible beneath her mask. Their expressions were very different from hers, a look of fear in their eyes as they pointed behind her with shaky hands.

Turning around slowly, the kanchō realized the marble dragon statue was gone, instead, a silver dragon stood in front of her. It's neck long and wings stretched out, showing off a leathery, metallic purple membrane.

The dragon huffed, blowing hot air into Pixal's face. She began walking backwards until she reached her teammates. Not wasting anymore time, they all jumped through the hole in the ground and began running down the staircase, the furious roars of the dragon getting fainter with every step.

Bursting through the doors, they raced through the flower field, not caring if the tower doors were left open. Climbing the hill to the summit of the mountain was slower going, but no one slowed their pace, wanting to get as far away from the dragon as possible.

The only time they stopped to catch their breath was when they reached the Horse Carriage. As she said, Mystake was waiting for them, unsurprised by their breathless state. She took the weapon from Pixal, laying it next to the staff. Not waiting for the ninja to relax or receive an explanation, she placed herself in the Horse Carriage, motioning for the girls to pick up and continue the search for the next weapon: the Trident of Water.

------------------------------

After securing the Whip of Technology, the five set out across the continent for the western shore. It was where most of the population lived, as there were not as many mountains and the capital was close. Unfortunately, the ninja did not get to see the capital as they had more important things to do.

Mystake decided that it was best if they find a more remote beach—one that was not crowded with people—to retrieve the weapon. After many miles of pulling the Horse Carriage through sand, they reached a part of the beach that was mostly hidden from prying eyes.

Pulling the carriage to the top of a bluff, the four donned the scuba gear they had rented and were debriefed by Mystake. Climbing down the bluff, they walked across the sand and waded into the water. Pulling on their masks, they dove under the waves.

Nya led, looking back occasionally to see her teammates either playing with fish or swimming away from them.

Pixal noticed her staring and apologized. 'Sorry, they are just so pretty. I didn't see fish like this up North.' She signed.

Seeing that Seliel wasn't going to be any help with her fear of fish, Nya swam over to her. 'Why don't you and Pixal stay here on lookout? I'll go get the trident with Skylor.'

Seliel nodded and moved over to Pixal to fill her in on the new plan, and to get some protection from the fish. Nya waved Skylor over and the two took off, each pulling out a waterproof flashlight. After a few minutes, they started to find chunks of stone that soon morphed to entire pillars and walkways. After five more minutes, they stumbled upon a structure that was almost fully intact. It was like a gazebo, but it had no roof. It was beautiful, with pillars and arches, seaweed climbing up the structure.

Swimming through an arch, the two turned off their flashlights, gazing around as the trident cast distorted light on the stone pillars. Nya went forward, grabbing the trident and holding it above her head triumphantly.

Before either of them could make a move, the seaweed started rustling. Unwinding from the pillars, it began weaving together. Skylor and Nya watched in amazement and terror as the final strands of the plant wove into place. The seaweed faded into deep teal scales, ocean blue eyes staring at them as a long tail swished back and forth.

As soon as the dragon let out its first roar, Nya had located the button on the contraption attached to her back.

When Mystake had recruited her, she had asked Nya to perfect her underwater jet pack and make three more. She had supplied Nya with every material and tool she needed. Now she knew why.

Pressing the button, she shot upwards, Skylor following soon after. Shifting their weight, they steered over towards Pixal and Seliel. They zoomed past them and the two looked after them with confusion before the roars from the dragon reached their ears. Turning on their jet packs, they followed Nya and Skylor to shore. Once their feet were on the sand, they shut off the machines, running across the beach and to the bluff.

Climbing the cliff was slow going, especially in flippers and soaking wet. Eventually they made it to the top where Mystake was sitting, waiting for them. She smiled, took the weapon from Nya and they were off again.

[poormeowmeowcollector]

Let me give you my life

Pairing: Loki x Tesseract

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, delusions, mental illness, alcohol, Original Character Death, Odin, fantastic racism

Summary: After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Chapter 3: Verse 3

Chapter warnings: math, fantastic racism, death (not graphic)

Chapter summary: the orders

Previous chapter, AO3, next chapter

If I'm a pagan of the good times / my lover's the sunlight

Loki storms the library once again, this time searching everything about the Tesseract and this Entropy they call him all the time.

Entropy still remains a mystery, but there are even more writings about the space stone than the ones they've seen before.

"It says here that they worshipped you," Loki says, but only internally. He's in public, speaking to the walls would make him appear mad.

"People express loyalty in different ways," they answer, always softer since the deal.

"Is that what you want? Loyalty?"

"Among other things, yes. But mostly trust that I will not hurt you, cause I won't," they promise. Loki already knows this.

Can't break something that's already in pieces.

"Brother!" Thor yells as he walks in. Loki's shoulders tense, this idiot never warns them.

"Tho-thor," he answers, eyes on Thor as they drab a chair and side beside him. "How come you be i-i-in here? You ha-ha-hate books," they raise an eyebrow at their brother.

"I'm here to see how you're doing. You've been acting oddly lately," he answers, those blue eyes scanning Loki.

"People grie-grie-grie-grieve in different ways, Th-thor. I a-a-a-assure you, I'm fi-fine," he hums, turning back to the book.

"Loki. After all this, just remember that I'm here for you, eh? You needn't face anything alone," Thor insists, placing a big and steady hand on Loki's shoulder.

Loki's body nods, and smiles, watching as Thor smiles back before leaving. Loki's mind wonders if this is all a mistake. Thor was, is grieving too. Maybe this is all too much…

But Thor wasn't there when Gæirasson offended Loki, neither time. In fact, Thor has been a ghost since Frigga's death.

"You have my trust and loyalty, until the end," Loki decides, feeling in their core how relieved the Tesseract is by the answer.

"Allow me to show you another secret then. Look at your hands but don't touch anything and don't let it spread," they answer.

Loki lets the book and brings his torn from the picking hands under the table, always watching them. Black ropes start appearing and tangling themselves on their fingers, creating a calming sensation and demanding more ground, but Loki doesn't allow it. Out of all kinds of magic, this is by far the most powerful one he has ever seen.

And the most chaotic.

To keep the Goddess on my side / she demands a sacrifice

Like every day, the official Tesseract session is late at night, while Loki should be sleeping. Signs of their decreasing amount of sleep are becoming more and more visible, but they don't care.

"The o-orders?" he asks.

"You need to know some things first. In order to keep you from dying, King Laufey made a deal with one of us. Your life for acts of service. You need to do some things before being free," they do speak like they did on the first days, but somehow still softer.

"Acts of s-s-service?" he questions. So, the stone just needs hands and will borrow theirs?

"Yes. There are things that will keep the stones safe from those who seek them to do harm. Asgard has two, and you need to make sure that some things are set to their protection. It's just one thing, really. But you need to use your new powers to do so,"

Loki nods, the movement small and cut, like a soldier's.

"Ready to-to comply,"

Drain the whole sea / get something shiny

"First order. Free yourself from everything, good and bad," the Tesseract says. Loki blinks in confusion.

"H-how?"

"What bad do you carry into you? The possessiveness, the jealousy, this ego you named pride, all this fury… you don't need them from now on. Let them go," they insist.

"L-let them go?"

"Act as if they don't exist, don't give them your attention. The same thing goes for your bright side. You faith in your moral compass, your deep feeling for everything you care about. Both of those sides will keep you from moving on. You mustn't listen to them anymore," they explain, as if it's something easy.

"So… y-y-you want me to be-to be your li-little m-m-minion?" he raises an eyebrow. Is that what they agreed on? Being a tiny pawn but just on a different chess board?

“No. Not exactly. You are not to abandon them for my own good, but for yours. The acts might hurt these sides of you, you need them in one piece,” their voice softens.

Loki takes a breath, in and out as slow as possible, and nods again. “What-what sh-sh-should I-I do?” even though the stutter stays, he refuses to let his voice break.

They swear they can feel the stone smiling.

“Listen to me, and don’t act upon them. Also, learn how to control possibility magic,”

Possibility magic? Is that what the black ropes are?

“Learn how Midgardians think of possibilities. It’s close to how your new abilities work,” they advise him. So, this is what being under the orders of a stone is like? Homework and pretending? it’s nothing they don’t know how to do for hundreds of years…

“And after the-the week?”

“the fun starts.”

Loki smiles wide, wider than he has ever smiled even before Frigga’s death.

something meaty for the main course / that’s a fine looking high horse

The week passes peacefully. Loki doesn’t have to worry about how to do what, the Tesseract is there to help them with it and lets them just decide how to do what and, oddly enough, the Midgardian science was calming.

At least, more calming than war theory. And less graphic.

He was chilling on the training grounds and working on the newfound magic, until the Tesseract came.

“It’s time,” they say moments before a blinding blue light covers Loki.

With the blink of an eye, they’re at a castle’s yard, hiding behind a bush.

“Prevent the war, you know how,” the Tesseract says again.

On the contrary, Loki has no idea where he is and what he has to do.

At least not until a guard passes by, near the bush, their armour bearing Gæirasson's symbol.

They smirk, moving from shadow to shadow and into the castle, where they cast an invisibility spell to navigate without worrying about getting caught.

What you've got in the stable? / We've a lot of starving faithful

In the grand hall, Loki finds the old lord. They're discussing an attack, in which he is the main character, of course. They're to strike tomorrow evening.

Loki has to hold himself not to laugh. Instead, they sit and wait. Wait until Gæirasson ends the council and heads to their bedroom. And Loki follows. Until the corridors make a room, with six doors to navigate through.

It would be such a shame if they suddenly closed shut, locking the two foes inside.

The old fool chuckles. "I know you're here, Frost Giant. I can smell your people's blood," he looks around.

Loki chuckles back and drops the spell, standing right in front of the man.

"Is it this? Or do your aged joins hurt with the cold?" he titles his head, showing his signature mischievous smile.

"Why are you here? To negotiate? We've been past this part," they growl. Loki doesn't break the smirk, but lets a glow pass their eyes. Green, but with icy blue undertones, and a pitch black shadow.

"No. We are here to talk about monsters. For, as you can smell, the blood of my siblings who you slained are screeching for it"

That looks tasty / that looks plenty / this is hungry work

"Do you know anything of my people's belief regarding the Norns?" Loki asks, circling around the man like a predator waiting to strike.

"Why should I care about the opinions of monsters?" he spits, trying to mimic the glare.

"Oh, because it's interesting. We believe in the norns, like you do. But they don't create the strings, they knit them. Twisting and turning and combining and separating people, and letting us choose where to go on each knot. Fascinating. Oddly enough, the mortals have a similar way of thinking, at least the ones who are closer to science. They name it possibilities, and write it with numbers,

"Let me give you an example. There's a fifty percent possibility that I will continue this conversation with my normal face," Loki speaks, letting the Æsir glamour fade and rising to his Jötunn height. "But I won't choose this path because your ceilings are low and I would have to bend my neck," they continue, after walking a few steps and letting their horns scratch the ceiling. The glamour appears again, bringing him to his Æsir skin.

"And there's always the possibility that you die, because of your old age and the stress of the war you created. And the only reason people remember you is as an example of why not to piss me off," he grins, the black ropes tangling around his wrists.

"And the possibility, in Midgardian terms, is one hundred percent," they leap closer and grab the old man by his collar, staring right into the fear in his eyes.

"I have a message for my people in Hel, deliver it when you see them. Tell them to rip this old cunt apart, yet keep one piece for me for when I arrive," he spits, watching as the ropes tangle around their throat and mummify them in front of his eyes, making the fear and anger burn out.

They throw the corpse on the floor and open the doors as the Tesseract casts another light, revealing Loki's chambers as it fades away.

"You shouldn't have scratched the ceiling with your horns," they say, worried.

"And? I laughed at the face of one old fool already, what's a second one? And if I am to join my family, let at least my exit from the hypocrites be dramatic," he laughs, ready for the guards to storm in and take him to the dungeons.

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XXX

Even as the day began to break along the western horizon, the sky remained dark with purple and gray clouds that seemed to swirl and spiral above them. Flashes of light flickered in the tendrils and if Cordelia watched closely enough, she thought she saw images, or rather, shapes crawling over the crevices. Perhaps it was only a trick of the light, but something intrinsic, wholly a part of her, rallied for the fight ahead.

When she imagined Belial emerging from his realm, she always supposed that it would be from underneath the ground. He’d crawl up from the sewers like a rat in the night. But as the storm continued to turn and the thunder rumbled over their head, she realized that he’d used the sky as a portal every time before. He always did prefer an entrance.

She kept a firm hold around Alastair’s waist as they raced through the cobblestone streets. Cortana hit her back with each rock of the horse’s powerful legs, but she did not mind it. The sensation acted as a reminder of all the ways she planned on burying her sword to the hilt of Belial’s body. This time she would end him for good.

A flash of lightning hit a lamp post to their left, prompting the young horse to rear and bolt to the right. Cordelia lost her hold on Alastair and slid gracelessly off. She rolled once, twice, but then pushed herself to her feet. Her runes left her with nothing but a dull ache that throbbed in her elbow. It was sure to bruise later, but she hardly noticed as she secured a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.

She could hear her name called behind her, but her focus centered on the massive hole opening up in the sky, just over the bridge. Sleet began to rain down, pelting her in the forehead, shoulder, and when she caught one in her hand she found that it was black as coal.

From the centre she could see a figure floating down towards the earth.

“Cordelia!” Alastair came beside her. “It's not safe out in the open! We need to find cover!”

Cordelia stepped out of her brother’s grasp. “I want him to see me.”

Alastair shouted something again, but she stalked forward against the powerful wind that was a mixture of hot and cold air against her exposed skin.

Carriages and single ridden horses started to arrive behind her. She could see across the bridge where more Shadowhunters had gathered. A flash of red hair had her clenching her jaw as Charles raised a loaded crossbow on his shoulder and aimed it at the sky.

A car backfired behind her, drawing her attention away for a moment as Matthew, Anna, Christopher, and Thomas emerged from the Algernon in a flash of black and silver gear and weapons. Her heart thundered loud in her throat as a black horse skid to a stop beside the car and James dropped down releasing the reins so the horse could bolt away.

He gave her a nod, a silent reassurance of his support, before he turned to talk to the others.

“What's the plan?” Alastair called over the sound of the wind.

Before she could respond a demon with the body and head of a snake, and wings that could bridge the Thames flew from the hole in the sky, followed by six others. Flashes of lightning danced around them hitting the ground and billowing smoke into the air.

Cordelia didn’t shutter. She planted her feet on the ground and drew Cortana from its hilt and held it in both hands in front of her. The blade so thin it barely created a line in her vision as a Drothki Demon flew straight towards her. Open mouth with teeth dripping venom as it screamed in its descent.

It landed on its belly a few feet away from Cordelia before coiling backward as a cobra would before it strikes and let out an ear rupturing scream.

Cordelia raised Cortana. “Where is your master?”

“Coming,” it hissed, in an ancient, cruel voice that was both female and male. “We have come to prepare a path for master. It can begin with you.”

Cordelia leveled her shoulders and tightened her grip around the golden hilt of her blade.

More demons flooded from the sky and up from the grey waters of the Thames. Demons she recognized and some that she didn’t; from every circle of hell, began to crawl or slide their way towards them.

The Drothki demon reared back, opened its massive jaws, and arched forward her like an oversized Jack-in-the-box towards where Cordelia was standing. She waiting until it was almost above her before arching her blade and tucking into a summersault away. She felt the warm, burn of ichor as it dripped onto her gloved hands, but luckily it couldn’t reach her skin.

She spun around on her feet and saw the slash at the right corner of the demon’s mouth. It shook its head irritably and hissed as it tried to find her again, but she’d started running and before it could strike a second time, she drove Cortana into the anchor of its right-wing and with a great effort, she pulled up and managed to sever the wing completely.

The beast roared and tried to reach her as she ran along the length of its body and slid off the base of its tail.

The weight of its left wing forced it to lean to the left as dark ichor seeped from its wounds. A moment later, it vanished in a puff of black smoke. Alastair had driven his glowing seraph blade into the beast’s core. His hair had fallen in his face and there was ichor slashed across his cheekbones. With his teeth clenched, he ordered her to go.

She spun around, her braid nearly whipping her in the face, and she launched herself towards the bridge; towards the opening where Belial as Lucie was still making his descent. She had to be there before Charles could take his shot-- before he could kill her. Before Cordelia even had a chance to save her friend.

A translucent spider-like demon the size of a small automobile jumped into her path and reached for her with two giant front pincers. Cordelia dodged the right one, but the left one managed to clip her on the shoulder as she moved away. The razor edges sliced through the fabric of her shirt and bit into her skin. With a yell, she stumbled backward and landed on her side in the road. Clutching her shoulder, she felt the heat of her blood through her glove as it dripped down her chest and her back. The demon spun on its eight translucent legs towards her. It snapped its two fangs that dripped venom onto the ground and left sizzling marks in the stones. It raised its pincer again and struck for her, but she rolled, screaming when she landed on her shoulder for a moment and then pushed up back to her feet.

She raised her blade again, ready to remove the claws from the beast, when it suddenly reared backward, its front legs curling in towards its center the way a bug does when it dies and evaporated in a mist.

James dropped to the ground in a crouch in front of her. A long slash stood out against his pale skin along his neck and dripped blood onto his collar. Behind him, the fighting commenced between demons and her friends. Christopher and Anna were working on a Hydra demon with its middle head dead and dragging on the ground, while the other two heads attacked Christopher and Anna.

Matthew taunted a Dahak demon. The combination of lizard and alien with eight slimy octopus-like legs reached for him but he dodged and slid around it until he had a clear mark on its ginormous head. As soon as the blade slid it, it disappeared back to its home realm. He had a momentary reprieve before a Behemoth demon emerged behind him.

Thomas and Alastair battled another Drothki demon, this one a blackish-red that used its tail as a whip.

Demons, more demons than she’d ever seen in her life, started to swarm them. The other side of the bridge was no different.

James stepped towards her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and turned to look at the hole still in the sky. “Help them!”

“What are you going to do?”

She turned around as the figure in the sky was near to the ground now; right in the centre of the bridge.

Cordelia didn’t wait to answer, she broke into a run again, ignoring the pain in her injured shoulder.

A swarm of Imp demons started towards her. She grabbed her seraph blade from her belt and whispered its name. It blazed with angelic light that had the Imp demons scattered away from her back towards the darkness.

Lucie was nearly on the ground now. Cordelia could make out the hollow features of her face that used to be full and pink, were not gray and sallow. Her mousy hair floated around her in the wind, unbound and limp. Her eyes, which used to be a stormy blue, were now black and expressionless as they scanned the scene around her.

Cordelia wanted to cry out. Any sign of her dear friend was gone behind the mask Belial had subtle slid over her. For a moment, fear crept over her and she allowed the thoughts to enter her head: what if they were too late? What if Lucie was really, truly gone? What if there was no other way?

Movement caught her eye on the opposite side of the bridge. A flash of red. Charles had just destroyed a Mantid demon and was free to aim his crossbow at Lucie.

No! She wasn’t sure if she said it aloud, but it screamed in her mind as Cordelia threw herself forward. Ignoring the Imp demons that scurried behind her as she ran with the light towards her friend.

Cordelia watched as the arrow left Charles’s crossbow and a Behemoth demon emerged from behind him wrapping its jaws around his shoulder and dragging him back as the arrow spiraled through the air towards Lucie.

If she were to blink, she would have missed it.

Lucie’s hand stretched out and caught the arrow in her barehand before it could hit its target. It evaporated into a dark mist in her fist. As Lucie turned to see where the attack had come from, it gave Cordelia the opportunity she needed. She sheathed Cortana and the seraph blade as her feet pounded soundlessly into the ground with each step she took. The sound of her breathing and the wind rushing through her ears were the only things she could hear.

I don’t have very many friends.

I’ll be your friend.

And one day we can become Parabatai! Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

It would… more than anything it would.

The collision nearly knocked the two of them to the ground as Cordelia wrapped her arms around her small friend’s neck the way they’d done when they were girls after not seeing each other for a long while. The hug was not reciprocated, although she wasn’t being shoved away either. No knife or weapon entered her body, though if it had she wasn’t sure she would be able to tell with the power that thrummed through her veins just being beside Lucie now.

“Lucie,” she called. “Please, Lucie, if you can hear me. I’m here. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Foolish—“ crackled a deep voice in her ear.

Cordelia only hugged her tighter. She felt a rumble of energy between them and with a burst of light her arms were pulled from around Lucie, and she was pushed through the air. She landed hard on her back, skidding a couple of inches along the ground before she stopped.

Lucie stalked towards her, her focus black and unforgiving.

“What did you think would happen?” It was her voice, but not. It rumbled with something dark and ancient. “She would hear you and come back? She is gone.”

“No,” Cordelia sobbed. “No, I don’t believe you!”

“It does not matter whether you believe it or not,” said Belial. “It is true. She gave herself to me willingly, allowed me to possess her, to control her.” Her eyes that were not her own slithered along with Cordelia. “Do not worry, Cordelia. I promise to make your death quick.”

He lifted Lucie's hands as lightning crackled above her.

With nowhere to dive or hide, Cordelia braced herself for the end. At least if she had to go, they would go together, the way they’d always planned since they were little girls lying in fields of wild daisies. It’s what she’d screamed at Lucie when she’d nearly fallen off the cliff and wanted Cordelia to let go, to save herself.

But she wouldn’t let go, no matter how tired her arm was or how she felt herself slip. Lucie would not go alone.

As thunder rumbled over her head, Cordelia felt the earth shake underneath her palms. The sound of a painful sob mixed with it.

Cordelia opened her eyes to see Lucie, her hands in tight fists at her sides, grimacing at the sky.

“Lucie!” Cordelia pushed herself to her feet and reached for her friend again. “Lucie, it’s me. I’m here!”

“You must go!” cried Lucie. “I can’t fight him. You have to kill me.”

“No!” Cordelia held her tighter. “No, I won’t. And I won’t allow anyone else to either. You can separate yourself. You must!”

“I can’t.” Lucie shuttered. “He’s— too strong.”

“Try!” Cordelia begged. “Try. He is the father of lies and deceit. You need only not believe him. Try. Try, Lucie, and I’ll help you.”

There was a split second of silence. Then there was a rumble, as though the particles in the air were all vibrating.

The sound struck her like a wall, and her bones vibrated. A flash of lighting zipped down the center of a building. The air shattered in a deafening explosion. The blast seemed to rip through the air sending Cordelia away from Lucie again and off of her feet. Her head struck the ground, pain caused her consciousness to waver. The dazed, drugged sensation seeping into her lucidity as she tried to push herself back to her feet again. She shook her head, blinking and trying to clear her mind. There was a sharp, painful ringing in her ears that muted all other sounds. She glanced at the building that had been destroyed before her eyes found Lucie again.

She froze with despair as Lucie trembled and fought in a losing battle.

Cordelia stumbled and faltered.

Her body is still very much human, she remembered Magnus tell them.

She dropped Cortana and tried to stand again. She couldn’t kill her friend. She wouldn’t.

But she wouldn’t die either.

She’d promised James. He was waiting for her. A lifetime of happiness, everything she’d ever wanted and waited for.

She stumbled forward again.

The sky rumbled again above her and she could feel the energy beneath her skin.

She managed to pick up speed, enough that when she hit Lucie, they collided hard enough that their bodies hit the rope railing to the bridge and they plummeted towards the water together.

Her whole body ached with cold, as though there was frost spreading from her core outwards. It sucked the air out of her lungs as she sank deeper into the water. Her grip loosened on Lucie for a moment as the freezing water took over her, but when Lucie tried to kick towards the surface, Cordelia dragged her back down again.

Underwater, Belial’s power faltered when Lucie’s did as she struggled for air.

Water continued to swallow Cordelia, filling her eyes and ears. She was surrounded by it, a blackness that opened up around her like a pit. She could see the pale light of the sky above them, receding into the distance as the weight of their garments and her weapons dragged them down. She had to fight against her instincts not to kick herself to the surface.

Hopelessly, she clung to Lucie. The light from the ever-receding sky lit the area around them, but she could see nothing but darkness. The water near the surface was a pale grey, the color of storm clouds, but everywhere else it was black as nightmares.

Her lungs began to ache.

Lucie kicked against her, but with her strengthening rune, her grip held firm.

It wouldn’t be long. She only needed to last longer than Lucie and then she could rise to the surface and breathe again. She reminded herself of such as her lungs burned and felt as if they were on the edge of exploding. She fought against every urge to take a breath.

Lucie’s muffled screams bubbled around her, silent.

Just go still, she pleaded.

It wasn’t Lucie fighting though. It was Belial, holding onto the last hope of his resurrection.

Haunting images moved around them.

Demons, she quickly realized.

They were all around her. Waving tentacles lined with suctions that each had their own row of massive teeth reached towards them. Cordelia reached for her seraph in her belt and thought its name.

The blade blazed to life in her hand, illuminating the scarlet, snake-like thing as it shot through the water towards her. She swung the blade and severed a limb that had been reaching for her leg. Black oil began to ooze around them in a dark cloud.

Just a little longer.

Lucie began to shudder in her grasp.

The lack of oxygen pounded against Cordelia's head. Her chest began to spasm and every part of her wanted to panic, to thrash, to take a breath. Her lungs felt as though they would collapse at any moment in her chest. When she felt as if she could not possibly hold her breath any longer, Lucie finally went limp and unconscious.

Now!

The cold water stirred underneath her feet as she swam up, up, up. She had to hurry for there was little time left.

At the surface, she could see the sun breaking through the clouds.

Author’s Notes: 

Just a couple of things: I made up a few of these demons. There is no such thing as a Drothki demon, but it sounded cool, so I went with it. 

I did not intend to end this chapter on such a cliffhanger, but I didn’t have enough time to finish it, which means there will be two more parts after this: a last chapter and an epilogue. 

As always, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please leave me comments letting me know what you think, hit the like button, and reblog if you feel so inclined. 

Next part comes at you on Feb 15. 

[365days365movies]

May 10, 2021: Blade Runner 2049 (2017) (Recap: Part Two)

Said I’d talk about artificial humans in sci-fi, so...

There are a HELL of a lot of examples of artificial humans in science-fiction, as well as the ethical and philosophical concepts that their existence raises. Now, your definition of “artificial” may differ from medium to medium. At its base form, these are humans that are not born, but made. I’ll be talking fleshy organic humans, not robotic ones. The most common of these is, of course, clones.

A clone, strictly speaking, is a genetically identical copy of a pre-existing organism, in this case a human. While this isn’t technology we’ve applied to humans as of yet (due to the NUMEROUS ethical problems and questions), we have done so with animals, mostly sheep and cats. It’s actually a good way to de-extinct certain species, and we’ve already done experiments with that. Of course...that has its own concerns.

Keeping up the Jurassic Park reference streak! Anyway...

There are a FUCKTON of examples of clones in science-fiction, but since I’m a massive comic book nerd, I’ll use Superboy. The genetic combination of Superman and Lex Luthor, Conner Kent is one of the most prominent clone superheroes. He’s not the only clone of Superman, of course. He’s not even my favorite clone of Superman, to be honest...

Bizarro am the worst. ME WILL LIVE ON THAT HILL.

Oh, and let’s not forget THE most prominent artificial human in comic books PERIOD. I don’t care what her origin in the movies is, that’s never been my favorite version of Wonder Woman. Making her a demigod robs her of something important, in my opinion.

...Should I make a comic book blog? Shit, thinkin’ about it.

OK, before I do that, these are just my favorite examples. Fact is, there are FAR too many examples of artificial humans to go into, whether they’re built, grown, sculpted, conjured, or a chemical reaction with an extra ingredient in the concoction.

And look, I could go on all day about this, but we got a long-ass movie to get back to. SO, lets jump back in. Part One is here!

Recap (2/2)

Understandably exhausted, K returns home, confused and conflicted. However, he’s greeted with a surprise from Joi: a prostitute! Namely, this is Mariette (Mackenzie Davis), one of the girls who approached him earlier. Joi’s called her here in order to be “real” for K, the effect is impressive, if somewhat...off-putting. Still, while K obviously didn’t need this to be happy with their relationship, Joi might, and Mariette’s all on board.

And it doesn’t take K terrible long to get on board, either. As both Mariette and Joi strip, it makes me wonder...how much does this subscription service for Joi cost. There’s no goddamn way this is free, right? Like, how exclusive IS this AI? And they cut from that scene to a Joi commercial, where we hear that Joi becomes anything you want her to be, and does anything you want her to do. But something tells me that...well, that it’s not quite so simple.

Once the night is over, Joi tells Mariette to leave, and not nicely either. Mariette leaves, rebuking her on the way out as well. K, meanwhile, knows that the Blade Runners will soon be coming after him. He’ll be going on the run, and Joi wants to go with him. And so, they put her inside of a remote device, while deleting her information from the main apartment console. This gets the attention of Luv, who head over to the apartment to figure out what’s going on.

K goes to Doc Badger (Barkhad Adbi), who analyzes the horse for him. It’s discovered that old radiation can be found there, and that amount and kind of radiation can only be found in areas where a dirty bomb has been set off. This would be in the desolate and weird-ass ruins of Las Vegas. While nobody lives there at this point, K and Joi go to check it out.

An IMMENSELY frustrated Luv, unaware of K’s discovery about himself, goes to confront Joshi about K’s whereabouts. Luv berates her for being afraid of change, and tells her that she “can’t fend off the tide with a broom”. Which is a great line. However, as Joshi is no use to her at this point, Luv just straight up kills her. Which, I’m sure, will go over well with the whole “Replicants aren’t dangerous” thing.

Meanwhile, in Vegas...shit is WEIRD. First off all, the desolate wasteland is full of statues of giant sexy wimmin, and I mean GIANT statues. Beneath one of them is a series of beehives, which K goes into to get a hand of beeeees. After that, he goes into an abandoned hotel/casino, rigged with tripwires and booby traps. OK. What.

So, somebody’s using this place as a hideaway, despite the entire city being destroyed by a dirty bomb, and probably extremely radioactive. K searches around and finds it empty. He begins to play a piano, hoping to draw someone out. He ends up drawing out a dog, as well as the inhabitant of the hotel.

Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), baby! Quoting Stevenson’s Treasure Island and holding K up at gunpoint with dog at side is the original Blade Runner himself, Rick Fucking Deckard. God, I love this. Deckard hunts K down throughout the casino, where we see some trippy holograms, and the future of Vegas stageshows (probably).

The two fight, but eventually call a truce and decide to get a drink at the bar. K gets to it pretty quickly, and confronts Deckard on his potential child with Rachael. He confirms that Rachael was indeed pregnant by him, but he had never met his child. Which was the plan, to be fair. He wanted their child to be protected, not hunted down and eventually dissected.

Sometimes, to love someone...you gotta be a stranger.

To an old Frank Sinatra song, a forlorn K (now calling himself “Joe”) looks around, and sees carved wooden animals that resemble the horse that’s haunted his life and memories so much by this point. Which makes sense, considering the foil unicorn from the previous film. Neat little tie-in there.

But paradise is not all it’s cracked up to be, as someone soon comes to find both K and Deckard, despite the fact that K came alone. Although, now that I think about it, Joi may not be one that you can truly trust. Deckard and K try to escape their pursuers, but are caught pretty quickly. In the process, K is injured, but manages to get up in order to fight back. However, this is Luv with these people, and she beats K down EASILY. Turns out that Luv is actually an enforcer, rather than just a secretary. And when Joi awakens from K’s device to ask her to stop, well...she kills the device, and she kills K. In the process, she also takes Deckard away, leaving K behind. Fuck.

K wakes up, only to discover Mariette standing over him in the Las Vegas wasteland. She takes care of him as he wakes up, also stitching up with wounds from the explosion. She tells K to trust her, as well as her compatriots. One of them is the hooded woman from earlier, a Replicant named Freysa (Hiam Abbass). An old friend of Sapper’s she saw the delivery of the child, the “miracle”, and also hid the child away, as it was a symbol that the Replicants are more than just slave, that they are their own masters.

Freysa is building a revolution in order to free the Replicants once and for all. And I’m hard-pressed to disagree with their cause, not gonna lie. However, this comes at a price. In order to prevent Wallace from killing the cause, K must prevent Deckard from leading them to Freysa. They must do what they can until they can reveal the child to the world. For she will be their leader.

Fuck.

Understandably COMPLETELY crushed at this revelation, and more confused than ever, K collapses. Freysa tells him that they ALL wish they were the one, and they all believe. It’s at this point, that K realizes exactly who the Hybrid is: Dr. Ana Stelline. The horse from earlier, it turns out, did in fact belong to her, and she planted her childhood memory with the horse in K’s mind as a Replicant. Damn. DAMN! That’s why the memory moved her so: because it was hers.

Meanwhile, Deckard awakens to a separate nightmare: Jared Leto telling him how he feels about him. After all, Deckard helped to create the first Replicant-human hybrid. He asks him for his help in obtaining the child, so that the key of Replicant reproduction can be further unlocked. And he proceeds in convincing Deckard by playing audio of Rachael and his first meeting (from the first film, of course).

Niander fucks with him further, by suggesting Deckard was summoned all those years ago specifically to fall in love with Rachael in order to father a child with her. But despite all of this, Deckard refuses to give up any of his information. And so, Niander pulls out his ace-in-the-hole...and it’s a real shitty thing to do to a man in mourning. 

Damn. Dude rebuilt Rachael, tries to tempt Deckard with her, FAILS, then lets Luv shoot her in the head. Fucking power move, and fuck Niander for playing it. Dude is a DICK. Meanwhile. that one visual from every single ad of this movie is happening, and I can FINALLY use one of the 8000 GIFs of it, goddamn.

Not gonna lie, it’s an iconic appearance, so I get why it’s so famous. Anyway, K considers a suicidal option, now that he knows the truth. However, before we get to see the final decision, we get to see Deckard being taken back to LA for interrogation by Wallace. However, to prevent him from potentially leading Wallace to the secret of Ana Stelline, K suddenly appears, opening fire on their ship.

The craft is downed, and K exits the car to engage in a firefight with Luv. He appears to win, but Luv isn’t killed once she’s shot. The two have a fistfight out in the rain, and Deckard waits for water to slowly kill the craft that he’s still inside of.

As expected, Luv handles herself well, and despite a number of close calls, she JUST. WILL. NOT. DIE. Damn, she’s resilient. However, despite K, Luv, and Deckard all nearly drowning in an INTENSE fight between the Replicants, an enraged and crazed Luv finally eventually drowns, ending her threat for good. 

K saves Deckard from the sinking ship, and agrees to stage his death, allowing him to meet his daughter for the first time. Once at her facility, K returns Deckard’s horse to him, knowing that it was a gift from him. He tells Deckard that his best memories all come from her, implying that this makes him similar to Deckard’s son, which he picks up on when he asks if he’s OK.

Deckard goes to meet his daughter, and K hangs out on the stairs outside. He feels the snow fall on his hand, and he just...watches it all fall around him. He sits, and he watches it all. And meanwhile, Deckard meets his daughter for the first time.

...Can I just say...GODDAMN!

That movie was absolutely stellar, and it’s definitely landing in the high ‘90s for me, calling it now. I...wow. Seriously. Amazing.

See you in the Review!

[captainsimagines]

Titanic || H.S

Part Two || “You.”

“And tell us about that Titanic! I hear it’s as grand as Buckingham Palace! Unsinkable!”

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

The needle a centimeter away from your finger and the one sitting between your incisors each created a rattling noise as you pressed the pump with your left foot and created a steady vibration. You opened and closed your lips ever so slightly in concentration. It was an evident possibility that your finger could inch its way too close to the hopping needle or that your tongue could swivel onto the pointed end and prick a drop of blood. But determination got the best of you as you heard the giggles and confident praises the seamstresses emitted. The stitching of your first full sweater would be completed in mere seconds, its elegant trail smiling right back up at you as the needle halted to a fine finish. 

The ladies cheered as you carefully removed the sleeve from under the machine, holding your first completed work of art up in the air for everyone to marvel at. It was a dark green color, similar to how you would imagine those black and white photographs concealed the true pigment of the vast Amazon rain forest. It was easily donned over one’s head and onto the body in a swift movement of lifted arms and lacked the tightness of your dated Victorian clothing. It welcomed a breezy and comfortable afternoon with tea and silent tranquility. It was simple but the ladies in the workshop would not let your first completed stitching go unnoticed. You were a valued customer, as was your mother years ago before she began buying from more established designers, and their exclamations were definitely ones full of pride. 

“It’s a wonder you finished so quickly! Come, let’s have a look at what you’ve accomplished!”

The ladies made sure the doors were locked before you stripped away your upper layers and uncomfortable corset. You breathed a sigh of a relief and a chuckle of reassurance for the worried faces staring back at you. You pulled the masterpiece over your head and immediately squealed in delight, happy that the fabric which treated your working hands delicately also did the same for your torso. It was slightly bigger than your form, baggy enough for you to fit both arms inwards as a blanket. You hugged yourself and swayed back and forth, smiling from the cheers and claps surrounding you. 

“There we go! Now you’re a proper seamstress!”

A few ladies scolded the woman who spoke of your ‘low’ title, but you quickly dismissed their worry. “It’s alright! I believe this new clothing item earned me a proper title.”

The ladies all congratulated your hard work once again but were interrupted by a hard knock on the door. It seemed all knew who was lurking behind the wood, the atmosphere altering to one of uneasy stillness. 

You sighed quietly, “Just go on.”

Everyone obliged, quickly picking up where they had left off before they had come to crowd around you and gawk at your hard work. You disregarded your other clothing laying on the floor and left your green sweater on. 

You yourself were a sight to marvel at, all done up in the face with regular-looking clothing somehow tainting the priceless property of your soon-to-be husband. Or maybe he had already placed a price tag on your skin, like how they mark cattle with an abrupt hot stab. You never knew anything these days. 

George cleared his throat and conducted a quick visual scan of the room. “You’re needed at the house, Miss.”

You breathed in deeply, mentally rolling your tired eyes at your fiancé’s personal bodyguard hire. It wasn’t that he was a total annoyance to have around, but that he was the most colossal annoyance to have entered your life after your fiancé, Cal. His eyes would never leave your body - not in an inappropriate manner but as caution for your safety. It was only on Tuesday you were able to free yourself from the constraints of your busy life to buy groceries alone, downtown, without help. It had become extra enjoyable to extend that peace by befriending the townspeople and participating in their daily lives. You didn’t view this as offensive simply because none of the seamstresses voiced a personal grievance. You wanted to partake in a normal activity, a hobby, in something you could actually call yours and not passed down through generations. But perhaps naming this a hobby while these women referred to it as their one underpaid job was privilege after all. 

“Do they need me immediately or do they simply want me home?”

Your questions once startled George as you proved to be quite the pistol, answering back and reminding him that you outrank him as well, not just Cal. It was rude to do so, you acknowledged, but the sudden burst of adrenaline your body experienced anytime you would not follow Cal’s orders easily were beginning to feel like a forbidden midnight craving. But George laughed off your wit and proceeded to point to your abandoned corset and upper part of your dress, as if telling you to suit up, and walked away to wait for you in the car, a cigarette in between his index and middle finger.

As you shut the door for some well-deserved privacy, some ladies of the shop narrowed their eyes while others shared their stares of pity. You had briefly mentioned your lack of desire to marry at such a young age, wanting to marry for love instead of insurance. While some of the ladies understood your point of view, others could not possibly believe you would give up the chance to settle down and be financially stable for the rest of your life. It was a difference of opinion and class, but one thing was certain - none of you were free from the constraints of men. 

You sadly stripped away the warmness of your sweater and lifted the white corset from the chair beside the sewing machine. The sound of a chair scraping against the floor and hurried footsteps painted a shy smile on your face. You remembered her name was Linda and watched as she rushed behind you to pull the strings of your corset slightly tighter than they already were. She was a middle-aged woman, more experienced than most women hired and perhaps the best. She had been the first to welcome you to the shop, teaching you the ropes of sewing - first by hand and then by machine. Linda often called her mentorship a privilege to conduct and made you promise to improve. 

“Oh, Miss. I know life isn’t what you want it to be, but when does it ever work out for people like us?”

You turned your head over your shoulder slightly to look at her, “You mean us women?”

Linda cleared her throat uncomfortably and finished tightening the last bit of your corset. “Yes, but… pardon me, Miss but I think you have more choice than the lot of us women combined. ”

Linda held out your jacket so you could tuck your arms in. You understood her point in matters of class, but as you slid your arms through the sleeves and saw how the glimmer of sunlight danced off your brown skin, you evaluated the types of privilege Linda had that you didn’t. But you would not overstep her boundaries, and instead remained quiet. 

“I don’t mean that to sound rude, Miss. Only that, even with an unhappy marriage, there are plenty of freedoms to explore that most people will never get to.”

You buttoned the front of your jacket yourself and let Linda finish speaking. What she said was absolutely correct. Lots of people suffer through boring and arranged marriages, finding joy once they bring new life into the world or handling the property portion of your household. It most certainly sounded like a simple compromise. But the thought of a loveless marriage with only the hope of conception to bring actual love into the world upset you. There had to be more to it than just that. 

“Thank you, Linda. I hope to see you in the next year or so.”

Linda momentarily covered her mouth in shock, “I completely forgot! You’re going to America!” Her outburst caused a couple of the ladies to murmur to each other, all sharing their want for the new American dream the papers were talking about. It was said there was no heavy violence, property was easy to obtain, and gold was discoverable by anyone with a working hand and a shovel. But you didn’t believe the lies - it was the same hole as England, if not worse. 

“Oh, please write, Miss! Share your adventures with the group,” Linda laughed, gathering your purse in her hands and into your waiting ones. She handed you the forgotten groceries and your new green sweater as well. “And tell us about that Titanic! I hear it’s as grand as Buckingham Palace! Unsinkable!”

You nodded and smiled to the group of ladies who had become your friends in such a short amount of time. “I’ll be sure to write with great detail. Don’t get into any trouble without me.”

Linda scoffed, “And if we do, you’ll hear about it through the mail!”

You laughed and voiced your goodbyes, walking out of a peaceful atmosphere into the polluted streets in search of the waiting car. 

The enjoyment of silence and limited movement had always been a treasured feeling. Your feet taking small steps across such a large bedroom and emitting such a small sound while the clock ticked every second was such a lighthearted moment in your busy schedule. You folded the last bit of your clothes from the drawers into the bags the maid fetched, making sure to wrap the small perfume bottles as tenderly as possible inside your undergarments. Neatly tucked away in the corners, you glanced around the grand bedroom that had witnessed your mental deterioration for the past two years. It had encased you in times of grief as you said final goodbyes to your father; in times of brief happiness each time one of your horses won a race; in times of uncomfortable stillness as you destroyed gifts from loved ones, corsets string-by-string, or bottles of champagne from congratulations on your engagement. It was time to say goodbye and welcome four new walls to witness more tumbling emotions. 

A small knock at your door interrupted your thoughts. “Thought you could use a little help with the last of your belongings.”

If it wasn’t for your incredible acting skills, you probably would have screamed at Cal a thousand and one times by now about absolutely everything and nothing. He was subtly controlling, insisting which books you should and shouldn’t read or what food you should or shouldn’t try. For an engagement that was barely three months strong, you had already experienced fifty years of a failed marriage. 

You gave a small smile, “Thank you.”

Cal stepped into the room with your given permission, shutting the door gently behind him and locking it. You sighed deeply as you heard the click, trying to occupy yourself by wrapping the last bottles of perfume with undergarments. It occured to you in that moment that your private wardrobe was out in the open, so you quickly tucked the last bottle without its personal wrap and zipped the bag closed. Cal didn’t seem to notice your clumsy actions, instead focusing on lighting the cigarette between his lips. 

You stood at the foot of your bed and clasped your hands together, “You know I don’t like cigarette smoke in my bedroom, Cal.”

Cal chuckled and moved to grab the bottom half of your torso. You allowed him to guide you into his chest, swaying with him back and forth while simultaneously avoiding the dangling stick from his lips. Cal exhaled the smoke over your head and made sure all the smoke exited before he leaned down to press scattered kisses across your neck. Self-control abandoned, the involuntary grimace to stain your face remained unseen by your poor fiancé, who was only trying to selfishly build a certain romantic mood that was sure to escalate in the next week on your wedding night. Cal had it in mind that if he introduced a new intimate gesture every day, you wouldn’t act so cold during the ceremony. It was worth a shot, but the complete disregard for your upset over cigarette smoke was enough to bump his score back a few points.

“I was hoping the packing was all finished,” Cal sighed, trailing his kisses closer to your collarbone. “The help gets paid for this, Sweetpea. You shouldn’t waste your time and energy.”

You cleared your throat to break the one-sided tension, “It calms me, actually. Besides, the household is busy preparing for our departure in other ways.”

Your engagement had caused a disruption in the everyday lives of your staff. It was known that you had to marry after your father’s death or else your family wealth was in jeopardy. Your father had left everything in your name - property, money in the banks, jewels - anything and everything. But it was the nonexistent trust of your capabilities that people would not outright express. Coupled with the fact you were in your early twenties, no one would confide in your training abilities, rent your property, or give you loans. Getting married was practically on the agenda since your father announced his diagnosis. 

“Think of this,” Cal began, blowing out smoke and flicking the ash onto the floor. “In a week's time, you won’t need to worry about anything.”

He paused before taking another long drag of his cigarette. “America will welcome us with open arms and open pockets.”

“Must we think too much of the future? Can’t we just enjoy the present moment?” you spoke quietly, still swaying against him. 

Cal chuckled softly and gripped your chin lightly with his thumb and index finger to tilt your head upward. “America is full of such rich opportunity! How can I not envision it?”

You shrugged your shoulders and departed his loose grasp. “I’m not saying you can’t imagine-”

“No need to imagine!” Cal yelled excitedly, playfully falling on his right side at the foot of your bed. “I know it isn’t a figment of my imagination. It’s real…” he continued, looking up at the ceiling in undisturbed awe, “we can be as big as the Rockefellers.” 

You chuckled softly and picked up your bag to bring it to the chair by your door. “I’m sure our reachable dreams will suit us just fine.”

Cal scoffed jokingly, “Think of it! Your father’s property, our combined assets, the booming railroad business-”

“Actually, they say trains are becoming less and less valuable as automobiles become more affordable.”

Cal looked at you with wide eyes and a confused stare. “Well, whoever you are referencing was wrong.”

You wanted to list your sources and prove him wrong, but decided against the nasty argument. 

He continued to preach, “Just envision it, Sweetpea. It’s already in our grasp.”

You pretended to ‘envision’ his world by staring at the same spot he was, but could only see lonely nights in a house too big for the two of you and endless parties with mindless chatter. It was already draining the energy from your chest, so you simply lied to your fiancé to end the conversation.

“I can’t wait to see it, Cal.”

Cal jumped to his feet and fixed his tie before heading for the door. You could honestly say this was the longest conversation you ever had with Cal, and one where he wasn’t so bland. He seemed comfortable and relaxed around you right now, when usually he’s controlling and constrained. Air being sucked from your lungs without warning and then quickly replaced in a sharp and painful manner. A desperate reminder that you would have to learn to endure this endless suffering if you wanted to live comfortably. ‘Comfortable’ and ‘cheerful’ were two words that were completely foreign in feeling, on your tongue, in your social circle even. But yet again, you reminded yourself of your place - a place that you would simply have to learn the rules of. Cal was quick to change personalities anytime someone would interrupt your already tamed conversation, either showing you off as an extravagant prize or as a nuisance, someone to fetch him another Brandy. 

Perhaps it was due to the proximity of his American dream. 

“Perfect, Sweetpea,” he leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow around seven. We have to be up bright and early to get to the docks by nine.”

You nodded and waved him goodbye, “See you then.”

You spent all night tossing and turning in your massive bed, hearing the trees sway with the wind and the midnight workers opening and shutting gates every five minutes. Silence greeted you only momentarily, somehow interrupting your thrashing or your wild thoughts, wishing you would open your eyes and imagine random designs in the ceiling above you. But as you did so, an intense wave of pain would sever any ounce of playful imagination your mind struggled to concoct, teasing an impossible ability to conceive a world other than your own. 

Tomorrow you would be locked away in the most elegant room on the grandest ship in the world, each swirl and twist of captivating designs sprawled across another four walls offering its own imagination to your tangled mind - another four walls that will observe your internal struggles with yourself, your husband-to-be, your “rich people problems”. 

And all you wanted was to disappear. Perhaps jump into that endless, blue abyss and have the world forget you ever breathed its air. Those four walls would only taunt you, remind you of the nauseating situation you were constantly in, breaking you further until all that’s left is another tombstone in your already crowded family garden. Your problems seemed miniscule as you thought about the setting of your deterioration, a luxurious and expensive atmosphere to suffocate inside. 

Perhaps you were overreacting. 

And as you heard another gate shutting and making an obscene amount of noise, you swallowed back those pitiful tears and reminded yourself that it could always be worse.

It could always be worse. 

But instead of disappearing, you decided to wander through the dark hallways of your home and sneak into the main kitchen. The peace and quiet you were hoping for as you devoured some chocolate chip cookies was absent and the kitchen roared with about half a dozen servants cleaning and packaging the food for donation. No one stopped their tasks because you entered the room, so you took that as an invitation to peck through the food on the counters. You found the sweets near the middle tables, still unpacked and freshly baked from this morning. You stacked a few cookies and lonely blackberries onto a single napkin, pulled out a chair, and sat to relish the flavor of each small creation. 

“Sugar at night will give you nightmares.”

You chuckled lightly, turning to smile at the only servant who took notice of your presence. “It’s worth it if this is the last time I’ll taste Hernando’s baked wonders.”

“Oh, don’t speak like that! Soon you’ll be back here and stuffing your face with all kinds of sweets.”

She wiped down the counter behind her quickly so she could sit beside you. You offered her a cookie, handing one to her but she declined. 

“What’s got you awake at near midnight? You have a busy day ahead and you need to rest up,” she said, folding her washcloth absentmindedly. Although you wanted to be fully honest with someone, you still kept most of your worries confidential. 

“I don’t want to go back to America,” you admitted. 

She scoffed, an action that modeled her desires rather than yours. “Why would you want to stay here? All of your father’s family is back in the states!”

You shrugged, taking a bite of your cookie. You spoke softly as to not invite gossip from others, “If I don’t go, then I won’t get married. Besides, all my family is out West. We’re staying on the east coast.”

She gave a sympathetic look, reaching out to tap your hand gently. “We’re not all meant to marry for love. But most of us do fall in love after… gradually.”

You scrunched your nose in slight annoyance, realizing that she had completely glossed over the mention of your family and the distance between them. “My mother said the same thing.”

“She is an honest woman. Perhaps she is right and you are just stubborn.”

Now wanting to end the conversation, you stuffed a cookie into your mouth so she would be forced to continue speaking without your input. She instructed another servant to pour you a cup of tea that had just finished heating.

“Who knows, dear? He could turn out to be more wonderful than you expected.”

Clearing your throat, you brushed your hands off on a nearby napkin and carefully handled the tea, standing from the table with a slight frown on your face. 

“One can only hope,” you said, bidding the midnight staff goodbye. “Please tell Hernando that I will miss his cooking.”

The cookies had relieved you of some of your building stress and the tea was also aiding in your recovery, but they quickly digested and sat in your half-empty stomach. You took long glances at the walls of the hallway adorned with family portraits, random maps, and lifesize sculptures leaning against them. You were saying goodbye in your own way, the only way possible, and it felt somewhat nostalgic - so quiet and yours. 

There was a strong possibility that you would return, but for some reason there was a need to say goodbye. Because if you never did return, you knew it wouldn’t be by your own choice.

Thank you so much for your lovely comments! It truly means a lot. -Moni xx