#i kept having to pause it to like gasp and talk about the plot lmao

[pcktknife]

I love book people I just watched a 2 hr video of this lady talking about the plot of this fantasy novel and it was so fun it made me wanna start reading again

[thesupersaiyanprincess]

So yeah, here we go again, a highly slightly revised version of Splits' Chapter 1

It's set in some kinda AU where you're a saiyan and there are other saiyans alive and on earth, as if more than just Gokus parents sent them off to earth as babies to start a better life not just to destroy it. Perhaps part of the resistance against Frieza?

I'm expecting this to top out at like 10 ish chapters, if anything probably less, i don't want it to stray to far from the plot or spend another 6 months on it lmao

Warnings include: violence, emotional abuse, very dark Vegeta, sexual themes, choking but not in a good way

Word count: ~1,600

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                      Chapter 1                      

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You’re sitting in the living room, bored, surfing the channels on the TV when you hear the front door click. Your face lights up at the sound that you know means your boyfriend is home, and you run to the hallway to greet him. 

“Hey 'Geta,” you say with a smile as you plant a kiss on his cheek. You know he hates it when you’re cutesy like that, but you like riling him up. Little did you know, today was not the day for it.

“Get off of me, woman.” Vegeta shoved you away from him harshly and made his way to the bathroom after taking off his shoes at the door, he didn’t even look at you as he barged his way down the hall. There was definitely something wrong, even if he didn’t like kisses he never reacted like that. Something was up, and today you were feeling especially brave so you decided to follow him down the hall and grab his tail. Bad move. He swung around in an instant pinning you by your throat to the wall.

“Don’t. Touch me.” he said with a growl in his voice before throwing you to the ground and continuing down the hall. 

“'Geta that hurt, what’s the deal with you today Mr. grumpy pants?” you said in a huff as you picked yourself up from the ground, patting down your jeans. “I thought we talked about this; no aggressive wall pinning unless I ask for it.” He didn't stop or turn around to look at you. “Oh, so you're just going to ignore me then, that's great, I guess I'll just go back to watching TV since you’re being a big grump.” you waited a second longer to see if you'd get a reaction, but no, he just kept walking and eventually made his way to the bathroom, locking himself inside as you walked back to the living room.

You wondered what could've happened today to make him so irritable. When he left this morning he wasn't mad, so something must've happened while he was out training with Goku. Maybe Goku reached a new form and Vegeta was jealous? No, that's happened before and all he did was rant about how it should be him who gets to unlock new forms, not that stupid, low class, pathetic excuse of a Saiyan, Kakarot. He was the prince of all Saiyans after all, and he should be the one with all the power. No, this was something else entirely, and you were starting to worry what could have made the mighty Vegeta so angry. 

Against your better judgement, you decide to go knock on the bathroom door. “Vegeta! Open up! What's the matter?” you shout through the door, hoping he can hear you over the running water of the shower.

“Go away! Go make yourself useful and cook me something, woman” of course that's all he would say. Damn these Saiyans and their insatiable appetites. 

“No, I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re mad.” you plant your feet outside the door as you hear the water shut off. After a moment he unlocks and opens the door with a towel around his waist. He always looked so good right after a shower, silky hair wet, tangles framing his face, water droplets glistening across his gorgeously broad Saiyan chest. He truly was a sight to behold. 

“Get out of my way” he said to you as he tried to emerge from the bathroom, you were blocking his way and he really didn't like that. “Move now, or I’ll move you myself.”

“And what if I don't, what’re you going to do to me?” you said with a smirk on your lips as you stared seductively into his eyes. Usually when he was mad you could make him forget about it for a while with sex. Today was different however, and instead of pinning you to the wall and devouring your mouth with his, he gave a blow straight to your stomach, instantly knocking the wind out of you and making you crumple to the floor. He stepped over you and headed to the bedroom to get dressed. 

“Food woman. Now. Don’t give me more reason to be mad at you.” he called over his shoulder as he entered the bedroom. As you were curled up on the floor, clutching your stomach and gasping for air to finally reach your lungs, you couldn’t help the thought that maybe he didn’t love you anymore from crossing your mind. A thought that threatened to bring tears to your eyes. But you were stronger than that. You stood up shakily clutching your stomach for a moment before straightening up and walking after him into the bedroom.

“What the fuck 'Geta!? What's wrong with you? Why’d you punch me in the gut like that!?” you yell at him with an anger that made the air crackle with energy. “I thought you loved me 'Geta! How could you hurt me like that? What did I ever do to you?” You hated to admit it, but you're an angry crier, and the hot tears came spilling from your eyes as your hair flickered flecks of blond. Even though you had reached Super Saiyan form yourself, Vegeta was still 100x stronger than you on a good day, let alone when he was angry.

He ignored you completely, dropping his towel and putting on a fresh pair of briefs. He acted like you weren’t even there at all actually as he picked out some clothes to wear. Taking his time to sift through his messy chest of drawers to find his favourite shirt. Black and skin tight with Shenron and the DragonBalls printed on the back, it hugged his muscles in all the right places. It was your favourite on him too and for a split second you forgot your anger and stared at how the fabric clung to his still dewy skin. It all came flooding back when he turned to face you.

“Did you not hear me? I said food. Now.” he snarled through gritted teeth. He hated it when you didn't follow his commands, but right now he wasn't your master, and it was so not sexy of him to treat you like this. 

“If you want food you'll have to make it yourself. I'm not cooking for you until you tell me what's wrong.” you say back to him, with the same amount of force, trying to make your voice sound as demanding as his to no avail. No matter how hard you try, you'll never get his aggressive tone of voice down pat, you just sound like a pissed off chew toy and it makes you even angrier. 

“Whatever.” He grumbles just loud enough for you to hear as he continued to search for some pants. 

“Whatever?! That's all you're going to say?” you yell as you stare at him in disbelief, one more dismissive or demanding word from him and you were going to snap. “What about an apology? For shoving me, then throwing me, then straight up punching me!? Are you even listening to me, Vegeta?” You pause for a long second to see if he’ll say anything, and when he pulls up his pants and heads for the door, that's it. You power up to Super Saiyan and block the doorway, glaring at Vegeta, daring him to step closer. 

“Silly woman. You think that just because you're a Super Saiyan, you can stop me? How pathetic.” he said, his voice hollow and cold as he goes Super Saiyan Blue and picks you up with one hand by the throat and holds you off the ground. “You couldn't stop me with both my hands tied behind my back,” he sneered at you before throwing you into the wall outside the bedroom door, almost knocking you unconscious as your head hit the wall at full force, leaving the plaster cracked. Your energy faded and your hair returned to its regular dark colour as your vision blurred and your ears rang from the impact. 

He walked over to stand above you, laughing menacingly. “You're weak and pathetic. The only reason I kept you around was so that you'd cook and clean for me. Oh, and so that I can fuck that tight little pussy of yours.” The edges of your vision started to go dark as he picked you up against the wall by your throat again. “You are nothing but a toy for me, a sorry excuse for a Saiyan. So low class I wouldn't let you shine my shoes with your spit. But you cook good and don’t complain whenever I want to fuck, so you’re not completely useless.” he squeezed your throat tighter, “I want you to know that I don’t want you anymore. I never loved you, not one bit. I was only using you for my own satisfaction. And now that I don’t want you, there's no reason for you to keep breathing.” as he said this, he was gradually squeezing your throat tighter in his grip. You didn't understand what was going on, Vegeta had never been what you'd call affectionate, but he was never so mean. The Vegeta you love would never say such harsh things to you, or hurt you in any way what so ever unless you were fucking and asked for it. In fact, he put several higher ranking Saiyan's in the med pods because they were antagonizing you for being the weakest Super Saiyan. The sudden change in him had tears pouring from your eyes as you tried harder to keep from passing out. “Now be a good little weakling and go to sleep for me.”

“'Geta… p-please… d-don’t… hurt… m-m…” You managed to spit out between desperate gasps as you faded from consciousness. 

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So whatcha think? Please leave comments and likes, I'll also be posting this over on my AO3 when i can figure that out haha

Always remember, reblogs>likes <3

[sylvie-writes]

A Night In

summary: it’s your 1st wedding anniversary, unfortunately the snow has ruined your night. Or so you thought...

a/n: this is my entry for @just-one-ordinary-fangirl ‘s celebration challenge! also, I’m going to combine this with the anon who requested some Ransom Drysdale x wife! reader fluff.

word count: 1485, more or less.

warnings: stripping (but NOT in a sexual way) I swear it will make sense when you read it lmao, but I’m not gonna spoil it. this is still general audience.

*please pardon any mistakes! I try to proofread but I’m human. One who makes mistakes*

Mesmerizing snowflakes delicately fell from the night sky, the outside lights making them noticeable. Those little flakes gently fluttered to the ground, joining the rest of the snow that had compiled outfront. As of now, your front yard looked like that from a Hallmark movie.

Being snowed in was one thing, but being snowed in on your first wedding anniversary was another.

Of course, both you and your husband, Ransom, were slightly bummed out that your dinner reservations had to be cancelled, but you both still made it work.

Ten minutes ago, Ransom had phoned the restaurant, giving them the notice. After he hung up the phone, he joined you to snuggle on the couch, the yellow aura of the fireplace reflecting on your figures. Now, you were sitting between his legs, leaning against his broad chest, as the man laid his chin on the top of your head. When it had started snowing about an hour ago, you knew there was no way you were going to leave the house. Sadly, you turned back up the stairs and changed out of your dress and into a pair of sweats and a knitted henley top.

Ransom softly laid his hands over your stomach, interlocking them as he held you even closer to his body.

“What should we do, angel?”

For the past few minutes, you both have been silently brainstorming.

“I know there aren’t many things left in the pantry, but I’m sure we could whip up something.”

You looked down at his hands, and placed your own over them. Ransom unlatched his hands to envelope your colder ones.

“Well, I know we have stuff for spaghetti. How does that sound?”

“Sounds lovely, Ran!”

He paused making you nervous. When you turned expecting an upset expression, you were met with a giddy grin.

“That’s… that’s the first time I’ve been called that.”

First, Ransom stood from the couch, extending his hands to help you up. He smiled sweetly at you, and you brought your hand up to his cheek, a comforting touch.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never been called that. No one’s ever called me anything nice before in general.”

He bitterly laughed and a part of you felt a bit sad for him.

“No one? Not even your mother?”

“Babe, this is my mother we are talking about. The nicest thing she has called me is ‘asshole,’ which I take with pride.”

“That’s very true. At least this works in my favor. Now I have a nickname for you, honey!”

Once you were up from the couch, Ransom laid a hand on the small of your back, gently leading you into the kitchen.

One of your favorite activities in the whole wide world, was to cook with Ransom. Surprisingly, he was a pretty good cook, and you both worked wonders in the kitchen.

Currently, Ransom was filling a pot with water, as you gathered the many cans of the various forms of tomato. Sauces, pastes, and actual tomato chunks accounted for the six cans that made home on your side of the stovetop. Together, you and Ransom stood shoulder to shoulder working on your own parts of dinner. Since it was simple to boil the pasta, your husband helped out with the sauce by seasoning the beef.

As you waited for the sauce to simmer, you and Ransom softly swayed to the music in the kitchen. The two of you loved to dance. The feeling of being in each others’ arms was something you both adored.

When the timer sounded, you and Ransom pulled away from each other, having been softly lip locked for what felt like ages. You tended to the food while Ransom grabbed the bowls and poured your glasses of wine.

Ever the gentleman, Ransom pulled out your chair, making you giggle at his chivalry. This was a side of Ransom only you were allowed to see.

You both ate dinner in comfortable silence, occasionally talking, but mainly enjoying this time together. It was agreed that this was much better than sitting in some stuffy restaurant. Moments like the ones you had just created were ones you wouldn't have made at the restaurant.

Dinner was amazing and enjoyable. Your plates were soon empty and it was now time for the cleanup. Together, you and Ransom worked hurriedly and managed to clean the dishes in a timely manner. While Ransom cleaned the pot from the stovetop, he quickly came up with an idea for some more entertainment. It was clear the snow wasn’t gonna melt and you both clearly didn’t want to watch tv for the next few hours.

“Hey (y/n), did you keep any of the board games from when we moved?”

You took a moment to think, laying a hand on your hip.

“Actually, yeah! I kept a few, but I think battleship is the only two player game we have.”

A small pout came onto your lips, but it was washed away at Ransom’s happy smile.

“I’m totally down to play. That is if you are up to losing.”

His typical smirk formed and you leaned towards him to kiss it away. Pulling back slightly, you talked against his plush lips.

“You’re on.”

With Ransom finishing up cleaning, you took out Battship, placing his board on his side of the table as you situated your own. Soon, he came back to set his own ships into place. Just as you were about to begin, he spoke up with a tempting offer.

“Let’s spice things up a bit. Shall we?”

With a slightly drunken smirk, you replied, “What did you have in mind?”

“The person to lose this round strips to their undergarments and stands in the snow for a minute.”

You gasped loudly, reaching across the table to shake his hand while being mindful of the Battleship boards. The alcohol coursing in your veins and his made you two all the more competitive.

If you did lose, that would indeed be the longest minute of your life. The dare might’ve been stupid and childish, but you and Ransom fooled around like that for fun in desperate times as such. It was a perfect way to make your 1st anniversary even more memorable. Stupid things like these make for the fun stories to look back on, ten or fifteen years down the road.

“D3?”

“Nope.”

“A8?”

“Ugh.”

“E5?”

“Ah shit.”

After a shed load of curses, laughter, and a few glasses of wine, the game came to an end and your fates were sealed.

Successfully, you had managed to sink all of your husband’s ships. A prideful smile on your face as the man defeatedly sighed, standing on wobbly legs to give you a hand shake in a sportsmanship manner.

As Ransom stood up, he hurriedly slipped off his clothes starting with the t-shirt he was wearing. The man’s muscular arms stretched above his torso and you still couldn’t believe you managed to catch this man. Believe it or not, but you actually married him because he was such a charmer, not for his looks. They were just a bonus.

Before you knew it, Ransom stood before you in his boxers and shoes, making you giggle. He shot you a sarcastic smile, handing you his tan trench coat for your own use.

Opening the door, you both were immediately met with the rush of cold wind. It made you shiver and you were in the proper attire, it only made you wonder how Ransom felt.

You held your cell phone in hand, timer ticking away as Ransom stood in the never-ending, vast whiteness of the snow. His arms were tucked around his broad chest and his legs were crossed, trying to retain his warmth. You felt a tad bit bad, but then again it was a dare and neither of you would back down from one. Anyway, it was his idea in the first place.

So maybe you both were a *bit* competitive…

Ding!

“Ran! Come in!”

You waved him over from the door. Immediately he ran faster than a child running from their shadow. In a flash he was in the house, standing by the fireplace shivering.

To be fair, you decided to join in. As his back was turned, you stripped to your own undergarments, leaving on his coat to warm yourself. Ransom’s ice cold skin came into contact with your own making you hiss. Surprised by your touch, the man turned around enveloping you into his arms, trying to feel your warmth.

“I felt bad for you, even though it was your idea!”

“Damn straight! You are such a meanie to me, your precious, darling, innocent husband.”

Playfully you slapped his chest, leaning back into his embrace. The two of you stood in front of the fire, until warmed up, then going to pick up your discarded clothes and returning to snuggle on the couch.

There was no better way to end the night than with a sweet kiss.

“Happy Anniversary, Mr. Drysdale.”

“Happy Anniversary, Mrs. Drysdale.”

if you’ve made it this far thank you so much for sticking with the crazy plot. I know it was a little... risqué. Then again, it’s a Ransom fic. Anything is possible.

Taglist: @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @calirindo

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 12: Shadow Man

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which they come home and so much has changed.

Word count: 5k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

A/N: 

Did I just write 5k words in 2 days? Fuck yeah I did :) Sorry for being unproductive and depressed, that was very unsexy of me lmao. I’ve recovered from a long sleep. Don’t worry.

But hey, at least I finished this chapter before Nevada finished counting their votes :)

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.

.

"I remember everything."

Y/N had waited too long to hear this. She'd made up scenarios in her head of how this would happen. Yet standing in front of him now, she didn't know what to do. He leaned in with a broad expectant smile, and she shoved him away as hard as she could.

"What was that for?" he gasped.

"How do I know you're real?" she hissed, taking a step back only to realise she'd fall into the water if she'd gone further.

Harry cocked his head to the side and studied her like a swordsman with his opponent. She thought he was about to attack, but once she'd regained her composure, she realised he was waiting for her to recognise him.

He extended a hand and moved in. She froze, second-guessing his intentions. To her surprise, he lifted her hand by the wrist and placed it against his chest. It wasn't until now that she noticed the wind had died and the snow had stopped falling. The forest was so still, like it was holding its breath, waiting to see how this scene would unfold.

"How about this?" he asked, knowing she could feel his heartbeats, so alive, so human, against her palm. "Your hand is cold," he chuckled, his voice breathy. She didn't answer, knowing the fact that she missed him too much could blind her judgement.

Harry's nose scrunched up in disappointment as he let out a breath. "How about...this?" And he let her touch his face. His cheek was warm, or her hand was just too cold. "Better?"

She pursed her lips, feeling the beginning of a smile as Harry closed the distance between them. He pressed his forehead to hers. And when she silently gave him permission with a single look, he leaned in and captured her mouth with his own.

He tasted like memories, like winter, like the forest that nearly killed them. And when he drew back, her eyes stayed shut until she could finally breathe again.

"You believe me now?" he asked, brushing his thumbs over her flushed cheeks.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, giggling. "You stupid bastard."

Harry started laughing, too. Then, he kissed her forehead and whispered in her ear, "Did you miss me?"

She wrapped her arms around his waist and gave a nod, her face buried into his wet shirt.

"Good. I missed you, too," he said, contently.

She pulled back. "Did you get your memory back when I kissed you on the cliff? Was that why you jumped?"

"No." He tucked her hair behind her ears. "I jumped because I loved you and couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I told you, didn't I? When you truly love someone, the love won't go away."

Y/N swore her heart grew so big her whole chest might explode. She smiled and pressed her fingers against his shoulder, his chest, touching all the places she'd missed. This was too good to be true. She needed to be reminded that he was real.

On her tiptoes, she kissed him softly at first, and then with an ache inside her, she pushed herself closer against him. His hands pressed against her ribs as if he wanted to leave little bruises everywhere his fingertips rested. Maybe for all the same reasons. To be certain that she was real.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said, his eyebrows sloped down at the edges. "I don't want to hurt you anymore."

"You won't," she said.

He shook his head; he didn't believe her, either. "I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid. Never of you," she claimed despite a wretched knot of fear growing in her gut. She was afraid of so many things, and at one point, that fear would consume her. But until then, she could pretend it didn't exist.

She folded herself into him as his arms draped around her waist, his breath hot at her neck. He placed his lips at the soft place below her ear and ran his fingers through her dripping hair, warming her skin with his.

"So you remember everything?" she asked after a long hug.

"Yeah," he told her, pulling back. His eyebrow arched, reminding her of the playful side of him she hadn't seen in so long. "I also remember you telling me that you were in love with Lance."

"Did I?"

"You did, Your Majesty," he teased. "You said we went on this excursion because Lance was sick and you had to save him."

Y/N pressed her fist against her mouth and nose as she chortled. "We're doing this for you, stupid! You were going to die."

Harry blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"When Mary messed with your memories, she'd taken away many years of your life and hers. So we had to find the lake." Y/N's smile dropped as she looked over her shoulder. "This lake. It was the only chance to reverse the spell and save you."

When she turned back to him, a grateful smile had taken over his face. "You did that for me?"

She lifted her shoulders. "And for Isolde. This water could save lives."

Harry scoffed as he placed his hands on his hips. "Just lie and say you did it only for me."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Fine. I did it only for you."

"As you should." He happily booped her nose. "Also, Lance?"

She knew he wouldn't let this topic go no matter how hard she tried to avoid it. So she sucked in a breath. "Promise you won't be mad?"

"I'll never get mad at you."

"Except for that one time you tried to kill me."

He lifted both of his hands. "That wasn't me, but good point."

Y/N laughed nervously before she thinned her lips, looking for the right words. This was much harder than she'd thought.

"I slept with Lance."

Harry's smile reduced to a firm line as soon as he heard the confession. The way he gaped at Y/N made her believe he could never trust her again. The ball of fear within her grew, fluttering inside her chest, becoming a hammer that could smash her apart.

"Oh, wow," was his response.

She took his hand and squeezed. "You promised you wouldn't be mad."

"I'm not," he told her. "I just...wasn't expecting that. I thought you were going to say you'd kissed him..."

"It was only once," she mumbled.

Harry regarded her with a sad look that made her wonder if he was feeling sorry for him, her, both of them, or Lance. She decided not to question as he cupped her cheeks again, lifting her face. "It's fine, darling. I understand how hard it must have been for you. I couldn't be there."

"I thought you were dead."

"I know."

His chest rose with each breath, his flat green eyes so wretchedly deep and dark that she could tell there was disquiet in him. There was more he wanted to say, questions he wanted to ask. She almost reached up on her tiptoes and forestalled him with her lips. She could blot out his thoughts, swallow down his worry and make it untrue. But right before she could find out what was on his mind, they were interrupted by a rustling sound coming from the trees. She clung onto his arms when the moonlight deer stepped out of the shadow.

Its eyes shone like two silver coins dropped into a black pool. It spoke with the melodic voice of a woman, "Come with me, Saviour. I'll show you the way out of here."

"Wait," Y/N said, stepping around Harry to get to the creature. "Are you the witch in the story? Did you die here?"

Silence.

"Please answer me. I need to have an explanation for these visions I've been having."

"Those are memories from your past life," said the deer. "You, my Queen, is a descendant of the first High King."

"I know."

"And blood calls to blood," the deer said. "King Lokesh. He was in love with the daughter of the moon."

The shadow man, Y/N thought. The witch's lover was the King.

"He failed her, though. His one true heir and one true love had died in this lake. Lokesh had cried for days on the lakeshore until one day, he drowned himself."

A chill coursed right through Y/N. She swore she could hear a distant cry. Or perhaps it was just the wind.

"And what did you mean when you said those were memories from my past life?"

The deer didn't answer this question. It turned quietly and trailed back into the forest.

Y/N returned her gaze to Harry, who was too baffled to make a sound. She gave him a reassuring smile and laced her fingers with his. "Let's go. We must get back to the castle."

.

.

.

Lance shut the window and padded over to the fireplace where stood the young woman with the burned face.

Mary kept her head down, holding both hands against her stomach as Lance looked her up and down. It was hard to read her. She'd shown no emotions when she'd seen George Wallace's dead body lying in the snow. Now standing here alone with Lance in this room, she looked nothing more than a scared little girl.

"You must believe me, Your Majesty," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "I'm not dangerous."

"If I thought you were dangerous, we wouldn't be talking like this," he answered calmly. "I know you haven't been honest with me."

Silence.

"I have questions for you, Mary."

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty. You can ask me anything."

"Swear to me that you'll answer them honestly."

"I swear, Your Majesty. I swear on my life."

"And your sister's life."

"My sister's dead."

"Not both of them are dead."

Mary lifted her screwed up face. She seemed hesitant at first. Then, quietly, she said, "I swear."

"Good. Now tell me, did you kill George Wallace?"

"No," Mary answered without a pause. "But I know who did."

"Who?"

"Calanthe."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Calanthe?"

"She must have sent someone here to kill him. She needed a reason to start the war."

"And so she sacrificed her most trusted advisor?"

Mary's eyes sharpened at once. "Her most trusted advisor is the Monks now. The rest of the court are just her pawns." She bit down on the words before they came out, bitter and clenched. "I'm one myself, Your Majesty."

Though Lance couldn't have guessed it, and he hated himself for that, he wasn't at all in shock to hear her confession. "Why did she send you here?" he asked, stunned by how calm he sounded even though his thoughts were all tangled.

"I must convince Queen Y/N to travel to the North Mountain to find the lake."

"Which doesn't exist?"

"It does exist, Your Majesty. But only Queen Y/N can find it."

"Blood calls to blood," Lance murmured to himself. Mary probably heard him, because she gave a quiet nod. "So Calanthe wanted Y/N to lead her to it?"

Mary bit her lip as she nodded again. "But the forest protected the Queen. Calanthe's people weren't able to find her. At least...that was what George Wallace had told me. I was supposed to see him before he..."

She never finished that sentence.

"So are Harry's life and yours really threatened or was it another lie?" Lance asked.

"It was not a lie, Your Majesty. All magic comes with a price."

Lance pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. He settled into a chair by the fire and sat with his legs spread and hands on his knees. "I've been having these visions," he said.

Mary was quiet for a moment. "They're real," she then told him. "They're not visions. They're memories."

The final word grabbed Lance's attention. His eyes snapped up to Mary's.

The girl somehow found the courage to take two steps nearer, her whole wretched face was visible in the firelight. "When my sister said that Queen Y/N would be the saviour, she was talking about the war between the North and the South. She predicted that there would be a war as vicious and bloody as the one that had divided one hundred kingdoms into four high courts. King Lokesh had led the war. He made a deal with the Gods, to trade his firstborn for victory. But...he fell in love with a witch. And his selfishness had cost him her life."

"The witch in the story."

"Yes. Lokesh failed to fulfil his agreement so he died an unknown death, and the Gods punished the people with unchanged seasons. That's why the North is buried in snow all year round, and its ruler would always face a tragic death and have to carry a life full of regrets. Queen Y/N, however, is the exception. Lokesh started the war. And she's going to end it."

Lance pondered over those words for a long moment. "But...what did it have to do with me? It doesn't explain the things I've seen."

"Do you know...do you know about reincarnation?"

"What?"

"Reincarnation," Mary repeated. "It's the belief that the soul, upon death of the body, comes back to earth in another body or form. It's usually the ones with unfinished business in their previous lives. They're given a second chance to fix their mistakes. Don't you find it strange? This...pull between you two? Does it sometimes feel like...like...like you've known her forever?"

Lance went numb for a second, then he burst out laughing. Mary gaped at him, speechless and appalled.

"Why should I believe you after you just admitted to being a spy?" he asked.

She swallowed. "You don't have to believe me, Your Majesty. But...I decided to confess because I'd realised that I couldn't keep doing it anymore. I'd die no matter what. Calanthe doesn't care about me." Mary buried her face into her hands and took an exasperated inhale. "My fate is bound to the Monks by my fire tattoo. I must die when they die. And I want them to. I want Queen Y/N to win this war."

A knock on the door pulled their attention away from the conversation. Lance rose from the chair as soon as he told the person to come in.

The door creaked open, and there was Jo, who was surprised to see Mary. "Can I speak with you, Your Majesty?" she asked Lance.

Lance nodded and dismissed her with a wave, saying he'd be right out there. When she left and shut the door, he turned back to Mary, who was now as pale as a ghost.

"Please don't tell Jo," she begged.

"I'm not going to," he said, holding his hands together behind his back. "But take my advice. Never keep secrets from the people you care about."

She said nothing, just staring at her feet. So he walked out without giving her a second glance. A lot would have changed tonight, not only for the two of them, but for every single soul in this castle.

.

.

.

Harry knew something had changed.

It wasn't the fact that the guards at the gate looked at him and Y/N as if they were two dead bodies washed in by the tides. It wasn't the fact that the servants whispered to each other in the corridor as he passed by. It wasn't the fact that he and Y/N were the ones in filthy clothes, and yet she still looked like a Queen while he had never felt more out of place.

Something had changed, because Y/N had changed.

He didn't expect her to be the same girl he'd fallen in love with after all the trauma she'd been through. But the change wasn't mental or physical. It was her heart. It was different now.

She'd saved him. But what if in saving him, she'd lost a piece of herself that she'd never get back?

The fear deepened inside Harry the moment the door burst open and Lance rushed into the room. Harry didn't have to be a mind reader to understand that look.

Without exchanging a word, Lance strode straight towards Y/N, who immediately crashed into his arms. Like two pieces of a broken heart, they held each other, scared that one or both of them might fade away as soon as they let go.

Y/N opened her mouth, about to say something, and suddenly Harry was terrified of what she was going to say. What she would admit in the heat of the moment.

But Lance didn't let her speak. He turned to a guard. "Call for the Russos and the Queen's lady-in-waiting," he ordered.

"Lance–" Y/N started.

Lance cut her off by telling Harry, "Welcome home," and took in Y/N's haggard appearance one last time before he left. Just as fast as he'd arrived.

Y/N clenched her fist against her heart. Devastated maybe. They'd been gone for two weeks which had felt like months. This wasn't the warm welcome she'd expected from someone she was going to marry.

"Y/N!"

Jo burst into the room, holding up her skirts as she ran towards Y/N and almost tackled the Queen to the floor. Kenny and Stefan were here, too. They were thrilled to hear that Harry had got his memories back and that they'd found the lake. All Y/N had to do was tell one guard at the gate and now the entire castle had found out.

She took her time answering their friends' questions and asked them questions about themselves. Harry knew she wanted to ask about Lance as well, but she didn't want to bring him up, or perhaps just not in front of Harry.

"We don't remember the way back to the lake," Y/N told Jo, Kenny and Stefan. "I tried to draw the map in my head as the deer led us back to the horses. I wanted to come back with our army to get the water, but as soon as we were out of the woods, neither of us could remember the directions. They probably don't want to be found."

"They?" asked Kenny.

Y/N didn't answer.

Harry knew she hadn't told him everything. After all, she was the only one who could communicate with the deer. He'd been too happy to be with her again to ask about it before. But after seeing her with Lance, it occurred to Harry that he might know much less than he'd thought he had.

Why was he anxious? They had returned home safely. There was no reason for him to feel like he was more likely to lose her now than before. Harry kept wondering to himself while watching Y/N laugh with the others.

She put her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, kissed her rose-shaped lips and pressed his nose into her hair. He didn't think she knew how much she upended him. The question he'd almost asked at the lake still lingered on his lips. He couldn't say it.

With her holding him, the dark of the forest felt so far away. Her fingertips blotted out the cold of the winter. She was the only thing that made him whole. It was better this way.

But Y/N, my love, how do you feel about him?

.

.

.

Y/N could not believe it.

She was fuming. Her thoughts were racing. She marched straight to the meeting room and demanded the guards to let her in. A queen should not be excluded from a meeting with her own court.

All courtiers rose as she entered, while Lance stayed seated in his high chair at the end of the long table. He only acknowledged her with a single glance.

"An emissary was killed in my castle and I had to hear it from my lady-in-waiting?!" Y/N shouted at the men in the room. Silence ensued. Frantic looks were exchanged.

"I told everyone not to tell you," Lance spoke, his voice as calm as she remembered.

Suddenly, she hated him.

She hated him for his attitude. For how cold he'd been to her when he'd seen her earlier in the throne room. Perhaps he wasn't happy to see her alive. Perhaps he'd been hoping that she'd been dead so he could take the throne.

Deep down, unfortunately, she knew he wasn't like that.

Every single time she tried to make him the villain so she wouldn't feel bad about what she'd done with him, those memories would start creeping back into her mind. She couldn't make sense of her own feelings then, yet she knew at that moment, when he'd kissed and touched her, her feelings for him had been true.

"You'd just gone through hell and back, my love," Lance said. "How did you expect me to expect you to take that news?"

Y/N scoffed as she crossed her arms. "So instead you expected me to take my rest and leave the fate of my kingdom to you men?"

"No." He lifted his shoulders. "We were just going to help you make the final decision. However, I'm glad you could join us."

Y/N furiously flopped down into the other high chair as Lance flicked his fingers for a general to continue speaking. When they locked eyes for the second time, Lance's expression relented like a silent apology.

.

.

.

"Lance, wait!" Y/N called as she chased after him after the meeting.

A lot didn't sit right with her, but the one thing she cared the most at the moment was what had happened to Lance in the two weeks she'd been away. He didn't seem like an entirely different person. This was the same Lance she'd met. But now that she was more familiar with the one who would spend long nights in her chamber and chase away her nightmares, she couldn't bear seeing him this way.

"What do you think we should do with Mary?" she asked, falling into steps beside him.

"Nothing. She's still helpful, and we still have no proof that she did it," Lance said as he marched on with his hands behind his back.

Y/N thought about leaving him alone as he didn't seem to want to talk. The problem was she needed to talk to him. Despite what he thought was going through her mind right now, she did care about him a lot.

"How...how have you been?" she ventured.

He gave her a quick glance, his eyes distant and nonchalant. "Tired," he said. "Anxious. Angry."

"Oh..."

"Not because of you."

Y/N came to a halt at the same time Lance stopped and turned to face her. "Tired because I haven't slept for days. Anxious because George Wallace is dead, and the innocent people of Isolde would have to pay that price. And angry because..."

She waited for him to finish, but he hesitated. "Of Calanthe?" she asked.

His mouth twitched as he shook his head. "Not just Calanthe. But don't worry about it."

"So Calanthe...and me?"

"No."

Just as Y/N thought he wasn't going to continue, he did. "And me."

Y/N bit her lip. "I'm sorry."

Lance chuckled as he gave a wave of dismissal. "As I said, don't worry about it."

It was hard not to worry when he'd been acting strange ever since she returned. She'd thought he'd be happy to see her, because she knew for a fact that she'd almost burst into tears when she'd seen him.

"I wish you'd be honest with me for once." The words slipped out before she could think twice.

Slowly, Lance spun around, his grey eyes dark and troubled. "I have not lied to you," he claimed. "Not even once."

Y/N folded her arms over her chest. "Not lying isn't the same as being honest."

Lance let out a scoff, running his fingers through his raven hair. Y/N lifted her chin as he came closer. So close it unsettled her.

"If you need me to spell it out," he said roughly, "you're either a fool or a liar yourself."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, trying not to let her anxiety take control. "How about you tell me what's happening to you and I'll tell you what I am?"

Lance considered her, his mouth curled to its favoured side. "The reason I'm angry at myself," he said, slowly, "is because there's going to be a war, and I know for a fact that I'm going to trade my life for yours."

Y/N stiffened at the answer. She parted her lips, unable to make a sound. Her reaction seemed to have amused Lance more than it hurt him. He cocked his head to a side and smiled mischievously. "So what are you, Y/N? A liar or a fool?"

Y/N thinned her lips, still speechless. She was rearranging her thoughts, trying to form proper sentences that wouldn't leave her looking stupid, when suddenly, Lance lifted a hand and flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder. Her body grew tense as he breathed out a laugh. "And since you want the truth, well," he said, without looking at her. "I love you."

"What?"

"I love you," he repeated, this time, with confidence.

The lump in her throat grew bigger as she tried to gulp it down. When she spoke, she almost didn't recognise her own feeble voice. "But? Finish your sentence."

"That was my sentence, silly." He grinned tentatively.

"There's always the second half," she mumbled.

It was sad but true. Not many people had told her those words without something else to it.

A frown transformed Lance's face as he stood taller, his jawlines sharpened in the firelight. "I love you," he said. "I know you don't love me in return. But some people do love without conditions, Y/N." There was a pause before a shadow of a melancholic smile crossed his regal features. "Perhaps I broke your heart in a different life," he said, "and now it's your payback."

She wasn't sure what he meant, yet she didn't get a chance to ask. The pressure against her lungs made it hard for her to breathe let alone speak. Without waiting for her response, Lance spun on his heels and left, taking long strides until he disappeared into the shadow.

[yespleasefandomtrash]

Catradora fluff request: Adora getting an undercut with her ponytail and asking Catra how it looks

this is so self-indulgent. i love it lmao. thank you for suggesting this prompt! (im on mobile rn so im going to add a line break later. thank you for your patience! xx)

~*~

Catra knew something was going on. She’d walked in on Adora and Glimmer whispering to each other multiple times, but as soon as they saw her they’d snap out of it and act like they hadn’t just been not-so-subtly plotting in a corner. Normally she wouldn’t have thought much of it, chalking it up to Sparkles being weird, but Adora was laying her denial on thick. And her girlfriend, bless her heart, was the worst at acting.

And yet, despite how obvious they were being that they were planning… well, something, they had done a surprisingly good job so far at not revealing what, exactly, those plans were. Which irritated Catra to no end. Why was she excluded?!

“Okay, enough secrecy,” Catra snapped, cornering Adora one day in an annoyingly pastel-colored corridor of Bright Moon, placing her hands against the wall on either side of her girlfriend. “What have you and Sparkles and Arrow Boy been talking about for the past week?” And why am I not a part of it, she added silently.

“Uh…” Adora was avoiding eye contact with her in such an obvious fashion it was almost physically painful to witness. Dammit, Catra hated the two inches in height her girlfriend had on her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Catra hissed, her tail flicking in frustration, and she had to resist the urge to drag her nails down the wall. Glimmer probably wouldn’t appreciate her defacing the palace with claw marks. “Adora, you are the worst liar.”

“Psh, what, I am not lying! I would never -”

Catra silenced her with a glare. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” Her hands fell down to her sides, her fists clenching and her nails digging into her palms. “See if I care.”

Adora hesitated, something akin to regret flickering in her eyes, but her expression soon morphed to… affection as her gaze shifted away from Catra’s face. She reached out, her hand brushing the edge of her girlfriend’s jaw before gently fingering the ends of Catra’s hair. “It’s longer,” she said quietly. “Are you letting it grow out?”

Catra silently berated herself for blushing at the sudden physical contact. Stupid Adora. Stupid feelings. But she found her hand instinctively moving to rest on top of Adora’s. Her girlfriend was right - her hair was now less than an inch above her shoulders. “Maybe,” she finally muttered. “I don’t - I don’t know what length I like best.”

Adora chuckled, pulling Catra’s hand down to hold it properly. “Not to be a disgusting sap, but I think you look great with any haircut.”

Catra tried to scowl, but she was pretty sure the effect was ruined by how red her face had to be. “Well, that was disgusting. Never say it again.”

Adora burst out laughing, and she tried to pull her girlfriend closer to her. “But Catra, you’re just so cute!”

Catra hissed. “Shut up! I am not cute!” She yanked her hand away and sprinted down the hall, quite literally running away from her feelings. But she didn’t fail to hear Adora’s laughter increase as she started to chase after her.

“Get back here, you cute cat! Ooh, alliteration.”

“No! Leave me alone!”

It wasn’t until later, when they were both lying on the floor of their bedroom panting in exhaustion with tears of joy and laughter streaming down their faces, that Catra realized she was still yet to figure out what Adora was hiding from her.

She turned her head to glance at her girlfriend, who was wiping tears from her eyes, her signature goofy grin wide on her face. Catra felt warmth blossom in her chest - a warmth she was getting more and more used to feeling.

Well… she supposed she could wait for Adora to tell her whatever it was that was going on. She trusted her. And patience was a virtue, after all - one Perfuma was helping her to get better at practicing.

Apparently the universe decided to reward her for her attempts at self-improvement, because Catra found that she did not have to wait long at all for Adora’s… plot to be revealed.

“I don’t want to go to this stupid dinner!” Catra yowled, glaring angrily at a certain queen of Bright Moon. “I am not a princess. I don’t understand why I need to be there!”

Glimmer sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Perfuma is hosting this celebration, okay? It’s not just a formal dinner, or else I would tell you to stay here if you really didn’t want to go. It’s to denote that it’s been a year since the defeat of Horde Prime. All parties who helped the Rebellion are invited. Including you, whether you like it or not.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“I just said that doesn’t matter!”

Catra resisted the urge to smirk. Not teasing Glimmer was almost as hard as not teasing Adora. In other words, she often failed on both accounts.

Glimmer then sighed, uncrossing her arms. “Look, Adora wants you there. You’re right - you don’t have to go. I won’t make you. But Adora is going regardless of whether or not you are, so if you want to put a damper on her evening by staying behind, be my guest.”

“She doesn’t need me to have fun,” Catra snapped.

“I didn’t say she needed you. I said she wants you with her.”

Ugh. Catra hated it when Glimmer was right, which happened more often than she gave the queen credit for. “Fine.” She sent her friend another glare. “But you are not getting anywhere near my hair with that - that thing.”

Glimmer rolled her eyes. “It’s just a brush, but fine.” She shoved it at Catra. “At least do it yourself. Or have Adora do it. Whatever.”

Catra snatched the brush out of her hands, raring to fire back a snarky comment -

“Adora’s ready!” Bow poked his head into the room, his eyes practically glittering in excitement as he beamed at the two. “Not to flex about my abilities, but I think I did a pretty good job.”

Glimmer’s mood changed so fast it was like someone had flipped a switch in her body. “Ooh, yes!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I’m so excited!” She then teleported out the door.

Catra was frozen in the middle of the room, unsure of whether she should follow or not.

Glimmer seemed to realize this, as she appeared back inside for a split second and simply said, “Stay,” before teleporting back out again.

Catra frowned at the command, irritation causing her to clench her jaw. Why wasn’t she allowed to see Adora? The hell was going on?

Her enhanced hearing picked up on a familiar squeal followed by, “Oh, Adora! It looks so good!”

Catra then heard Adora laugh. “Aw, thanks. But really, credit goes to Bow. I could not have been trusted to do this myself.”

“Adora. Please. You’re making me blush.”

There was a pause. Then she heard Adora quietly add, “Do you think Catra will like it?”

Catra’s eyes widened.

“Well…” There was a teasing lilt to Glimmer’s voice, and Catra could practically envision her familiar smirk. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Catra instinctively took a step back despite that she was still standing in the middle of the room, her gaze dropping to the ground as she heard the creak of a person opening the door. “Hey, Adora.”

There was the sound of footsteps moving closer, and soon golden sandals entered Catra’s peripheral vision.

“You okay?” Adora asked, and although Catra wasn’t looking at her she could still picture the way her girlfriend’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “If this is about Perfuma’s party, I know Glimmer was putting a lot of pressure on you to come, but if you really don’t want to you absolutely don’t -”

“No, it’s not that,” Catra grumbled, her grip on the brush tightening. “Of course I’m not letting you go without me, dummy.”

“Okay,” Adora said slowly. Catra could practically see the way her girlfriend’s lips pursed in confusion, though she kept her eyes firmly trained on the ground. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

Catra didn’t know how to answer that question.

A deep-rooted, internalized fear of change, she could practically hear Perfuma say. She ignored the voice.

Adora gasped. “Oh my God, I get it. You saw it already and you hated it and you just didn’t want to tell me!” She groaned. “I’m so sorry, Catra, I wanted to talk you about it before it happened but Glimmer and Bow thought it would be more fun to surprise you and -”

“They - you - what? I haven’t seen -” Catra looked up, confused, and her voice vanished in her throat as the pieces finally fell into place. That was what Adora had been planning. “You cut your hair?”

Adora’s face reddened, and her hand moved up to touch the back of her head where her blonde hair had been shaved down in a neat undercut. “Yeah. I wanted to… try something new, I guess?” Her blush deepened, and a mixture of hope and anxiety flickered in her blue eyes. That combined with her girlfriend’s new haircut was enough to completely short-circuit Catra’s brain. “Do you like it?”

Catra knew that if she tried to speak immediately all that would come out was a strangled “ergm”, which was obviously code for she liked the haircut a lot, probably way too much, but she didn’t want the message to get lost in translation. By the time her neurons kicked back into gear, she was pretty sure her face was as red as Adora’s.

She ended up dropping her head onto her girlfriend’s shoulder, mumbling, “It looks… really good.” Her voice was muffled. Not that she was complaining. Why did complimenting Adora always have to feel so embarrassing?

Because you are making yourself vulnerable by expressing affection openly, Perfuma’s voice said again, which Catra continued to ignore.

“Catra, if it’s that bad you can just tell me,” Adora said, amused, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. “In all honesty, that would probably hurt Bow’s feelings more than mine.”

Catra lifted her head slightly, though again she adamantly avoided making eye contact with Adora. “No. I said it looks really good.” This was mortifying. “I like it. A lot.”

“Aw, really?” Catra finally looked up to see that Adora was beaming at her, her blue eyes wide with joy and relief. “That makes me so happy.”

Catra’s tail twitched, and she found herself dropping the hairbrush she still held to grab the front of Adora’s dress and pull her into a rough, hasty kiss.

Adora stared at her, speechless, when Catra let go, but shock soon transformed into a mischievous smirk. “Wow. I should have cut my hair ages ago.”

“Ugh!” Catra growled, her face a shade darker than scarlet as she grabbed Adora’s hand and began dragging her out of the room. “Let’s just go already, before Sparkles can yell at us for being late.”

Adora allowed herself to be pulled along, though she was practically snorting with laughter along the way. “I’m serious. If I had known you’d react like that, I would have taken up on Rogelio’s offer to cut my hair at the Fright Zone!”

“Shut up!”

Catra was suddenly spun around, her girlfriend pushing her against the wall of their bedroom. The mischievous smirk was back on Adora’s lips. “Make me.”

Catra gulped.

Looked like they’d be late after all.

~*~

thank you for reading!