#my cringe cannot escape containment

[shinysoroka]

Strap in for what my brain decided to cook up at 2:00 am.

In a High Fantasy land, dependent on magic for absolutely everything, Tony Stark suffers an accident that leaves his heart severely damaged. The Mages Guild, who he has a long-standing feud with, decide to teach him a lesson and refuse to help. Tony says, fuck it, synthesizes a new element, builds himself a mechanical heart, uses the element to power it and manages to cheat death.

News of this travels and people realize "Well, shit! Maybe there's something to this whole Engineering thing. Maybe we don't need Mages." And so, Tony starts getting attention and his tiny workshop grows to a business for people who cannot afford magic or don't want to depend on the Mages Guild. Everything is great until his mechanical heart starts malfunctioning. He soon starts to fear that if he cannot fix it, not only will he die, but the people will lose faith in his creations, which would place the world back into the iron grip of the mages.

In the middle of all this turmoil he gets a request from a noble from up north. He has heard of this electricity thing and he wants his castle to have it, instead of relying on Mages to come over and refresh the light spells. So Tony travels all the way to a dreary castle atop a mountain that is permanently wreathed in storms. Locals keep away and warn him not to go there. They say it is cursed. They also say that the servants who work there tend to go missing.

Tony obviously goes, "bullshit, curses aren't real". But sure enough, when he arrives he finds the castle is empty, except for a bunch of servants. The housekeeper leads him to an engineering wing where everything he requested is set up. She warns him to never leave the wing and sets off.

At first he shrugs and sets off to work. But after a while, he starts getting suspicious. Why isn't he allowed to leave? If the noble and his family don't live here, why are there servants running around? Why do they seem so frightened? And why is the weather constantly awful?

Eventually, he makes friends with the maid who brings him his meals and she reveals a terrible secret. The servants are here to tend to the family's monstrous son. Terribly deformed, mad and violent, he roams the castle, searching for his next victim. No servant can ever cross his path, for if they do, they will be slaughtered.

Now, Tony is suddenly not so brave. But eventually, curiosity gets the best of him. Against everyone's advice, he leaves the wing and tries to look for the son, which proves to be oddly difficult. For a bloodthirsty monster, he sure seems to be avoiding him and doing everything to hide. Tony perseveres until, after a clever trap, they find themselves face to face.

It is not a monster he finds, but a regular man. Blue eyes, blond hair, ridiculously handsome. A face that is hard to forget. If anything, he has seen that face before.

It finally dawns on him that he is staring at Thor Odinson, the crown prince.

Or rather, the former crown prince.

The same one who was famously beheaded in a public execution ten years ago, after murdering a visiting princess from a neighboring kingdom.

The same one who is now blinking in confusion, as if he is expecting Tony to drop dead or vanish. Of which he does neither.

At first Tony just flees. But soon after, Thor knocks on his door, asking to talk to him. After all, he already saw his face. The damage is done. So Tony opens the door and they get to talking.

In the following months, they grow closer as the generator Tony is working on takes shape. He finds out that the Thor was born with the power to channel lightning and command storms. When the king found out, he tried to get him to repress that power. For years it seemed to work, until one day he lost control and accidentally killed Aele, a Jotun princess who he was friends with. Her father, Laufey, mad with grief demanded Thor’s execution or there would be war. But Odin could not bring himself to kill his firstborn so he disguised a different criminal as Thor. Then, he locked Thor away in this castle to prevent him from hurting more people. That is why the servants can’t ever look at him. That’s why there is a spell that instantly kills anyone who does.

Clearly, there is something in Tony's mechanical heart that has interfered with the spell. Or at least that is his theory.

It has been ten years since that beheading. Odin is long dead. The prince's younger brother, Loki, is the new king. And Thor is still locked away from the world, in a castle that is constantly under a storm that reflects his emotions. So Tony thinks to himself, what if repressing those powers only made everything worse. What if they could be controlled and challenged? After all, there is a perfectly functional generator right here. And so, Thor lays his hand upon the machine, and suddenly, it works!

Soon enough, the castle has electricity, which Tony now understands, was a question of practicality. The more Mages come around to refresh the spells, the higher the chances of one of them running into Thor. But now that everything is ready, Tony convinces Thor to run away, get to the palace and try to talk to Loki. Perhaps, after ten years, things have cooled down, and there is a chance to explain what happened. After all, nobody knew about Thor’s powers except Odin. If he gets the chance to explain and atone for Aele’s death in another way, his powers could even lead the kingdom into a new age.

So with Tony’s help, Thor flees his castle prison. They both have a bunch of adventures until they reach the palace. When they finally manage to talk to Loki, he is surprised but receptive to their message. At least at first, until he betrays them and orders their execution. But not before, Tony discovers that Loki was behind Aele’s death. He once eavesdropped on a conversation between Odin and Thor, where he found out about Thor’s powers, as well as the need to keep them secret. He also realized that this is why his dad was paying more attention to his older brother. Consumed with jealousy and believing Thor to be dangerous, he waited for Aele to visit, snuck into her room and enchanted her favorite ring with an electricity spell that emulated Thor’s powers. Then, when Thor and Aele were alone, he activated the spell and killed her. Since Thor was convinced it was his fault and even confessed, there was no investigation and the ring went unexamined. Until Tony finds it and blows the lid of the conspiracy wide open.

We all know what happens next. There’s a big confrontation, Tony almost dies, but Thor manages to restart his heart with his powers. Loki’s plan is revealed but once Jotunheim learns the truth, Thor is faced with the same demand as Odin, to execute Aele’s killer. Since Laufey passed away as well, the person making the demand is her brother, but Thor managed to get the sentence reduced to life imprisonment in exchange of sharing their new technology with Jotunheim. After all, Jotunheim could also probably use an alternative to zealously controlled magic. It could also use something to block it, with Tony’s synthesized element is perfect for. And now, with Thor’s powers, the new technology can be powered by clean energy that comes from nature itself, is infinitely renewable and will last forever.

And so, the day is saved, the Mages Guild’s grip on the Nine Realms is broken, our heroes lead the way into a new future and hopefully, hopefully, when this is pitched to an editor, nobody will narrow their eyes and go “heeeey, is this just your favorite MCU bits with the serial numbers filed off?”

[chalkrevelations]

So, how we feeling Vegaspete Nation? Because I don’t know about all y’all, but I’m still completely normal about Vegas and Pete and their sex scene and am in no way re-watching it at least half a dozen times a day in a feral fugue state. COMPLETELY NORMAL.

I suspect this can’t be contained in a single post, but for now, here’s just some of the things that make me feral about this scene:

1. The way they make sure to show us the tattoo, to emphasize that message, no legacy is so rich as honesty, right up front, just as they’re getting into it, finally all masks off, all armor off. Oh, Vegas tried to put that mask back on, for sure – they even explicitly mark this with the moment he wipes the tears off his face, like he’s almost literally pulling a mask back on, and you can see him put up his armor just before he looks up at Pete, before he goes on the attack again, in a way that’s always been guaranteed to make Pete cringe away from him before this, when Pete will stand his ground against violence, and it’s maybe his last effort to give Pete the option to escape, this attempt to push him away. But then Pete ends up grabbing him and kissing the mask right back off his face. I feel like maybe you weren’t actually expecting that, Vegas, didn’t think you’d ever get it. After all, everyone and everything leaves you. (Or dies, which. Hm. Are we going to see how fear of Pete’s possible death influences your actions at any upcoming point?)

2. The way Vegas, that motherfucker, always always goes me one better than I expect. Before this aired, if you had asked me what I wanted out of my dream Vegaspete sex scene, two of the key things I would have told you were face-to-face and Vegas going down on Pete. I was just thinking a BJ would be fine and acceptable, and then that motherfucker gets on his knees behind Pete and eats him out so good he has Pete licking his own arm. I can’t. I CANNOT. I shrieked and slapped both hands over my mouth, and they were only getting started.

3. Pete wrapping those chains around his own gorgeous wrists and hanging on for dear life as Vegas eats him out so good he has Pete licking his own arm. Pete, baby. DO NOT let this man get away. Not if his tongue is that talented.

4. Face-to-face. Face-to-face. Watching each other, seeing each other the whole time, just like they’ve been gradually seeing and learning each other in the whole lead-up to this.

5. The whole thing is just stunningly intimate. And I emphasize both those words for a reason. Because it’s almost more intimate than it is sexual – no, you know what? I’m going to actually stake out that ground and make a stand on it. It IS even more intimate than it is sexual. And it continues to – even after watching it literally half a dozen times a day, every day, since it first aired – leave me stunned every time I watch it. And that’s the effect of so many many small choices that add up, like slowing it down, which draws everything out, as well as contributing to a fever-haze that turns up the temperature on it. Like having Vegas, who could so easily continue to stay standing above Pete as he fucks him, instead lying fully down on him, pressing as much of himself as close as he possibly can get, like he can get even closer than being inside Pete, like he can somehow make them merge into one, so that every feeling, sound, scent, taste, is heightened, is not only fully engaged but overwhelming, so that there’s nothing outside the two of them. Like the way Vegas is always either looking at Pete’s face or has his own face tucked into Pete’s neck, keeping his focus narrowed to Pete, so that Pete becomes his entire world. The kisses, my god, the kisses, and how soft they are, and how Vegas kisses Pete repeatedly, and how gd tender he is, and how Pete pushes up into the kisses like he’s savoring them, in comparison to the way he just laid there for the pill.

6. What it must mean to Vegas, when Pete surrenders control to him. He’s just finished telling Pete what a fuckup he is, always second-best, how he can never manage to succeed or do anything right, how everything he touches dies, and Pete looks up at him, no masks, and tells him, I trust you, you’re not incompetent, I believe you can do this, you can take care of me, you can give me what I need - wordlessly, just by handing him that rope. No fucking wonder Vegas kissed Pete’s hands like the most precious thing in the world had just been placed into his own hands. Also, that was a challenge from Pete, and Vegas rose to meet it beautifully.

7. OK, wait, I’m not even done with that moment yet. I have to. Just. Hold on and let me go take a walk around the block for a minute to TRY TO WORK OFF SOME OF THIS MF’ING HIGH so I can try to be coherent … OK, just the pure fucking fact of Pete offering up his wrists to be bound, and then Vegas – that motherfucker once again going me one better than I ever, ever expected – pressing a kiss to Pete’s knuckles not just in pleasure, not just in reassurance, but in WORSHIP. That moment, more than anything else in this scene – although also everything else about Vegas in this scene – confirmed for me that, as I’ve suspected since the discussion @black-flame-rose and I had about his Santa Muerte shrine, Vegas treats actual BDSM activity not only as separate from his torture and wetwork, but as sacred.

8. Meanwhile, can we talk about Build for a minute? Let’s talk about Build for a minute. I don’t know wtf kind of filters and lighting they’re using to film him for this, because sure, he’s an attractive guy, but Pete in this scene, like the pill scene, is almost otherworldly. I really think they’re shooting him differently somehow than they are for run-of-the-mill Pete scenes (I mean, for whatever value of “run-of-the-mill” a regular Pete scene can be). But I also think some of it is actually Build and his acting, something about the way he’s using his face and expressions in moments when Pete is just watching Vegas, or just talking to Vegas, utterly focused on Vegas, alone with Vegas, whether that’s literal or the world has narrowed to just the two of them, like in the face-off scene at the end of Ep 10, when the minor family goons might as well not have even been in the room – when Build is showing us Pete without his mask. And just like the face-off scene at the end of Ep 10, I can’t manage to look away from him here. I have to rewind and re-watch to remind myself to look at Bible – at Bible. And I think that’s at least partially intentional, I do think Pete’s the focus of this scene, they’ve done a lot to make sure our attention is just as focused on him as Vegas’s attention is, lighting Build’s face and putting him in a lot of direct shots, while they keep Bible shaded, or in silhouette, and halfway – or more – out of frame, or the focus of a lot of the off-kilter shots. And that could make Vegas come across as creepy – maybe it’s supposed to come across as sorta creepy? This faceless man in the shadows – if it wasn’t for how attentive and tender and worshipful Vegas is at every single point of this, once Pete kisses him and pulls off that mask, but particularly once Pete offers himself up along with that rope. Every bit of Vegas’s attention is on Pete throughout this scene, constantly checking in – not verbally, but studying his face, his expressions, the way his body moves, the way he responds to the kisses Vegas keeps going back to – god, the kisses, we only kiss people we like, Pete, and you keep chasing his kisses.

9. Also, let me just pull this out as its own special mention: The tiny, momentary look of amazed pleasure Pete gives Vegas specifically at 30:00, as Vegas gets his rhythm going.

10. Anyway, further to a lot of those off-kilter shots - along with the music they chose and the continued use of the obviously theatrical lighting – I mean, even in Vegas’s at-home torture dungeon, they made an attempt at making the lighting look diagetic, but there’s not even a thought of that here in the bedroom at Torture Sex Dungeon South, which heightens the feeling that none of this is real, it is (like, hah, sacred space) a time out of time and a space out of space, its own little bubble where Vegas and Pete have been constructing their own reality, where the normal rules and roles and expectations don’t apply, where they’ve slowly chipped away at all those things until they’re standing figuratively as well as literally (now) naked in front of each other – and now I’ve lost track of what I was saying. What was I even saying? Oh, so these off-kilter shots, the music, the lighting – they give this an even more heightened sense of unreality, of being drunk or drugged, of being stoned off your ass on endorphins, the way Pete obviously is when he’s at the point of licking his own arm, like they’re fucking in the middle of their own private rave or something. Plus, again, they’ve slowed the action down, which also heightens the feeling of unreality – as well as a vague sense of unease that … OK. I’ve seen people refer to these two as a potential Hades/Persephone story, and I don’t know that this maps perfectly, but this scene? Yeah. I’ve done a lot of thinking about Hades and Persephone and the various iterations of their mythos, and one of the key ways I approach their traditional story is as a coming of age story. Ann Suter, in The Narcissus and the Pomegranate, talks about that approach (among others) and points out that everything was set in motion by Persephone reaching out to pluck that flower. And I’ve thought a lot about that as a metaphor for the way, when we’re teenaged girls, we’re so ready to be grown-up, we’re reaching out for it in so many different ways, and that can make us do a lot of things that are daring, and dangerous, and objectively pretty damn dumb, and can get us in way over our heads, into situations that we never expected, new situations that are just as scary as they may be exhilarating, that could turn out badly but that sometimes manage to help us unlock new discoveries about ourselves and the world around us, and this scene captures that feeling - of reaching out for something that you think you want, of falling into something half-unexpected that you think you’re ready for, but where you end up halfway over your head, and it’s scary and dangerous and exhilarating and all you can do is ride it through - better than almost anything I’ve ever seen before.

11. Also re: a lot of the off-kilter shots, I think it’s an interesting way to fuck with traditional expectations of how power works in a situation like this, and the ways that’s usually represented visually - the almost swirling, restless motion of the camera that somehow never feels choppy even with the myriad changing angles captures power flow back and forth. I feel like the last time we see anything approaching a traditional power framing is the point at which Pete is sitting on the bed, looking up at Vegas and giving him the rope, and Vegas is standing above Pete taking it. After that, we naturally get some shots in which he’s on top of Pete, but I feel like most of the more traditional camerawork with Vegas on top of/above Pete takes place during the point where he’s plastered himself to Pete in an attempt to crawl inside him, with the heightened intimacy they build being the overwhelming effect of those shots. By contrast, I feel like they do a LOT of the very off-kilter stuff at the points when Vegas is still standing, and I’m particularly interested in the shots where Vegas would normally look most dominant and potentially threatening, backlit and mainly in silhouette, standing between the spread legs of a reclining, naked, bound Pete as Vegas pushes down his own pants and then again as he puts on the condom. These two shots are the most pronounced off-kilter ones, literally sideways, in a way that ensures that Vegas and Pete are essentially presented horizontally, on the same level. We get a more traditional framing in a third shot as Vegas pushes into Pete, but he’s already leaning over Pete on his way to lying on top of him in that shot, so he’s not standing above him in quite the same way he is in the other two shots in this sequence.

12. Finally, nrgh. The way Vegas’s hands cradle Pete’s face and his arms during this, the way that mirrors the way Pete’s thighs cradle Vegas’s flanks and the way not only the bondage they’ve got Pete in but also the slowed-down motion of the shots turn Vegas’s thrusts into more of a rocking motion, so they’re just rocking together, suspended in their own little cocoon of reality that’s more real than actual reality, with its masks and its roles and its expectations, but also totally separate from actual reality.

I thought they’d killed me before this, but it turns out that was only target practice.

[tepkunset]

Rating the three films I watched on my sleep deprived flight

Beans - 10/10

I was dying to see this film and so excited to find it on the flight entertainment screen menu. Of the three ones I watched, this was absolutely my favourite, unsurprisingly.

For those of you who don’t know, Beans is about a young girl growing up in Kahnawake during the Oka Crisis aka Kanesatake Resistance. In this way, it transcends the typical white girl “coming of age” story in a way rarely put to film.

I could really relate to the character of Tekehentahkhwa AKA Beans, and that absolutely contributed to me crying three times over the course of the film.

I cannot praise the acting skills of Kiawentiio as Beans and Rainbow Dickerson as her mother enough. There is one scene in particular, where the elderly, women and children are trying to evacuate the Reserve and are assaulted the entire drive with rocks destroying their vehicle, that absolutely wrecked me.

The way in which real life video and audio showcased the passage of time was really well used. It also cemented the fact that this film is a true story.

I highly, highly recommend this film, especially to Canadians. But I do warn you that it contains sensitive content, including violent racism, self harm, and sexual assault.

Spider-Man: No Way Home - 6/10

I haven’t seen the second MCU Spider-Man film lmfao so I’m glad this one begins with the ending of that one. I am also happy to inform you that I had no trouble following the plot, so you do not have to watch the second MCU Spider-Man film either to enjoy it.

Let’s get the biggest highlight out of the way first: Tobey Maguire and Andrew Garfield returning as alternate universe Peter Parkers was awesome. I grew up with Tobey Maguire Spider-Man, and before leaving for my vacation decided to re-watch those films in what was pure nostalgic enjoyment. Seeing him appear through the portal in particular nearly brought a tear to my eye. I thought he and Andrew Garfield Spider-Man worked really well together as big brother figures to Tom Holland Spider-Man.

But I also was straight up insulted the way this film acts so superior to the older Spider-Man series. Fuck you bitch, you are easily the weakest Spider-man set of films. The fact that the only way to save this series is by doing a hard universe reset on it at the end of the movie to fix so much of its bullshit goes to prove that. Finally we can escape the constant Iron Man influence.

I also can’t stand Bandicoot Cucumberpatch Doctor Strange, who is sadly in this film too. Happy is also very annoying and needlessly shoved in here because we can’t have an MCU Spider-Man film without Iron Man influence. (Yet again this Spider-Man is unable to just stand on his own, because the writing for him is so weak.)

There’s so much crap weighing this film down that could have been cut. For example, everything with Flash Thompson is just time-wasting cringe. Everything with Happy is just time-wasting cringe. 90% of what is with Ganke—sorry, Ned, is just time-wasting cringe.

It’s also worth pointing out that I highly doubt this film would even exist if it wasn’t for the well-deserved success of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. And because of that, there’s no way to escape comparing the two. And the fact is, there just isn’t a comparison. Into the Spider-Verse is vastly superior and accomplishes all the good beats without any of the bad ones weighing it down.

Okay, back to some positives, though. I also really liked the way they brought back the villains from the previous Spider-Man series and what they did with them. The biggest highlights were unsurprisingly Doc Ock and Green Goblin.

Tom Holland Spider-Man and MJ have some believable chemistry.

The ending fight, despite having so many characters involved, was actually pretty easy to follow, so props for that.

This film is definitely the best MCU Spider-Man film to date.

Venom: Let There Be Carnage - 8/10

The Venom films are definitely not for everyone, and I totally get that. However, this film is fucking nuts and I had a blast with how unrestrained it is. I’m not even really sure how to talk about it though. It’s just... it’s an experience. Especially when your sleep deprived brain is running purely on red bull.

I’m not sure what Woody Harrelson was going for with Cletus, but it was very entertaining. The best comparison I have is Jack Nicholson’s Joker tbh asdkfjajdgj no I’m serious.

All the comments that this film is a rom-com more than a super-hero story are absolutely accurate. Yes, the rom part of the rom-com is between Venom and Eddie. The movie ends with Venom saying he loves Eddie while they sit on a beach together watching the sunset. Like, that happens.

There is a very sexy villain in this film called Frances. I liked her a lot.

No one prepared me for the scene in which Venom goes to a night club, gets hit on by a woman, rejects her and then literally says, I quote, “I am out of the closet”.

[hlizr50]

Terms of Endearment

I'm obsessed with Nesryn and Sartaq. And I am not ashamed.

Read on AO3

It had started innocently enough.

When Sartaq had slid his hands around her middle and drew her back into his chest their first night alone after the great victory, planting a kiss to that sensitive bend where her shoulder met her neck. He had seemed to breathe her in.

“My darling,” he’d sighed.

Nesryn had been taken aback, unaccustomed to pet names from him. Perhaps it was because they had fallen in love in the midst of war – not the time or place for terms of endearment.

But as soon as that final battle was over, it was as if Sartaq made it his mission to shower her with affection, praise, and every endearment he could possibly think of.

“My darling,” he had breathed into her neck that first night. It had been surprising, but not unwelcome. Nesryn was not accustomed to intimacy such as this, but she couldn’t deny the feeling of warmth that it sparked in her. Sartaq, so unlike any man she had ever known, made her feel precious and adored. Even when they were both covered in blood and gore.

“Good morning, sweet angel,” he murmured when she awoke in their shared cabin as they sailed back to the southern continent. She huffed out a laugh at him, but he only grinned back and tucked her messy morning hair behind her ear.

“I’m sure there is nothing angelic about me right now.” With a grumble she tucked herself into his chest, allowing her to feel his rich chuckle rumble through her. How fortunate for them that they had this opportunity to just be. That they had survived.

“You couldn’t be more wrong,” he answered. “Angel.”

Nesryn just shook her head and drifted back to sleep in the arms of her prince.

~~~

As wonderful and loving as Sartaq had been, she had still physically cringed when he called her ‘sweetheart’. So much so that he had pulled back from the embrace he’d so tenderly wrapped her in, instead grabbing her by the shoulders and finding her eyes.

“Nesryn?”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It’s nothing. Really.”

“Nesryn Faliq, it is obviously not nothing.” The prince reached up a hand to cup her cheek, and she closed her eyes with a sigh and leaned into that strong, comforting anchor. “Don’t hide from me, love. Please.”

She pulled his hand away, grasping it in both of hers. She loved his hands, the strength in them. They had seen battles for his homeland, for the world, and were still gentle against her flesh in those in-between moments when he made sure to remind her how loved she was.

“In Rifthold,” she began with a deep breath. “As a woman trying to make her way up the ranks, I found myself at odds with many a condescending man. Men who felt that a woman didn’t belong in the guard. Men who felt that a woman shouldn’t speak her mind. Men who felt entitled to my affections. And nearly all of them, being creatures of minimal creativity and intellect, would call me ‘sweetheart’ when they spoke to me as if I were nothing more than the dirt beneath their feet.”

Sartaq’s free hand fell at the small of her back and pulled her against him, lips falling against her temple.

“True men recognize and respect strength, regardless of whether it is a man or woman who possesses it. They were fools.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I will remember not to call you sweetheart. But know that you are my love, always, Nesryn Faliq.”

“And you are mine.”

~~~

“There you are, my beautiful morning dove.”

Nesryn turned, rolling her eyes, to find Sartaq striding toward her. He always wore that easy grin that toed the line between confident and arrogant. She hated how handsome that arrogant smirk looked on his tanned face.

“Good morning, your highness,” she answered haughtily. The prince only laughed.

“So formal, my lovely spring flower.” He was close enough for her to swat at him.

“You are insufferable,” she scowled, but her eyes had glittered with mirth.

“Insufferably in love with a stunning warrior goddess.” The prince grabbed her by the hips and leaned in for a kiss, but she turned her lips away from him. He didn’t let that stop him, though, and he simply peppered her cheek instead. Nesryn couldn’t contain her laughter.

~~~

Nesryn hadn’t thought that anything could be more exhausting than her time fighting in the war for Terrasen.

And yet, after a day of wedding planning with Duva and Hasar, she ached down to her bones from pacing. Her eyelids drooped dangerously as she stumbled into the suite she shared with Sartaq. She hadn’t made it two steps in when she was scooped into the prince’s arms.

“Empress of my heart, you look exhausted,” he whispered into her hair. Nesryn groaned.

“I’m too tired to even object to your ridiculous pet names tonight,” she grumbled. His chuckle rumbled through her, warming her aching nerves. She was not cut out for planning a royal wedding. How would she ever be empress?

A worry she would have to put off for another day. She did not have the strength.

“I shall have to take advantage, then, of your helplessness.” Sartaq carried her to their enormous bed. “Windseeker, song of my soul.”

“Sartaaaaaaq. If I didn’t love you so much I would hate you,” she muttered as he set her down, laying her shoulders and head on a veritable mountain of pillows. Instead of circling to the other side, the prince lifted a knee and placed it near her thigh on the mattress and climbed so she was caged between his arms and legs.

“You could never hate me, my beautiful cherub,” he chuckled as she grimaced. Sartaq leaned down and pecked the tip of her nose before rolling onto her other side. A strong hand wound around her stomach and pulled her back against a hard chest.

“I’m beginning to think maybe you just don’t remember my name, and you mean to overwhelm me with affectionate trickery.” Her eyes were already closed, the sensation of his lips against the shell of her ear making her shiver with delight. Damn him.

“Nesryn Faliq. Nieth’s arrow. Former captain of the Adarlanian king’s guard. Princess of the rukhin. Queen of my heart. My future empress –“ he grunted as Nesryn elbowed him in the ribs, but he only held her closer, whispering in her ear. “There will never be enough beautiful words to describe you. But I have never backed down from a challenge.”

~~~

They were to be married the next day. As was customary, Nesryn and Sartaq would spend the night apart. They stood in the middle of their sitting room, her head resting on his chest and his arms holding her against him.

“I shall miss you tonight, light of my soul,” he murmured, raising a hand to slide fingers over her hair.

“Could you not just call me by my name, for once?” The words ground together like stone. She didn’t mean to sound so callous.

“Does it truly bother you, Nesryn? All this time, have you truly hated the way I speak to you?” Sartaq’s voice was nearly as quiet as that day he had first told her that he loved her. That day when they both thought they would never have a chance to see what their future could be. Nesryn took an unsteady breath against him.

“Of course not, Sartaq. Every word that you utter is beautiful. It warms me down to my core. It’s just…” Her voice trailed off. The prince gently unwrapped his arms and pulled back so he could see her face. His warm eyes gave her strength, and his strong weathered hands wrapped around her much smaller ones. “Sartaq… I’m no princess. I’ve spent most of my life avoiding praise for my accomplishments or appearances. They were all expectations, and I knew that – as a woman – if those expectations were not exceeded, even if the margins were slim and the odds impossible, I would be cast out. Left with nothing. I have been a warrior. Royal archer, member of the royal guard, and captain of it. I know nothing of flattering, fancy words or poetic declarations of love.”

Nesryn lifted their joined hands and pulled them against her chest, lowering her gaze to them. “Everything you say makes me feel incredible, precious, adored. Never in my life did I think I could find a future like this, a love so astounding. What bothers me is that I do not possess those skills or gifts, and I fear I cannot give the same feelings to you that you give to me.”

The silence between them… she hated it. Sartaq was always so self-assured and knew exactly what to say, but all she could hear was the sound of their breaths softly escaping. Anxiety rippled through her when he pulled his hands away, but they landed on her cheeks.

“Nesryn Faliq. My warrior’s heart,” he murmured, tilting her face up. She lifted her eyes, lips parting at the heat she saw glimmering in his dark gaze. “I fell in love with you just as you are. I fell in love with Nesryn Faliq, Captain of the Royal Guard. I have no expectations of flowery love poems or lengthy declarations of devotion. I have no need of those things. The only thing I have need of is you. Call me by my name. Call me by my title. Call me an arrogant bastard, if you feel so inclined. So long as you do it with that smile upon your face, with that love sparkling in your eyes, then I will be the most blessed man in all the world.”

Nesryn lifted her hands, fingers tracing up the strong line of his jaw. Her lips tilted up as a slow smile spread across her face. “I can do that.”

“And I call you such outlandish things, pour my heart out to you, precisely because of what you just said. You have spent your life conquering challenge after challenge. And while your skills and achievements are considerable, the world around you was not prepared to grant you the adoration you deserve for it. I strive to make you feel incredible, precious, adored, because that is what you have always deserved.” Sartaq dipped his chin, brushing his lips tenderly over hers. Resting his forehead against hers, their hands cupping each other’s cheeks, he murmured, “And I would be lying if I said I didn’t quite revel in making you blush and rendering you frustrated and speechless.”

One of Nesryn’s hands found his braid and tugged on it, a blush painting her face. But she smiled serenely, beaming at the man who would be her husband in a number of hours.

“I love you, my prince,” she whispered.

“And I love you, Windseeker,” he answered. He kissed her again, not nearly as softly but just as brief. “Tonight, I will sleep with empty arms, and then never again. For the rest of our days.” Sartaq finally pulled away, knowing rest was needed. He backed away, his gaze never wavering from hers. When he reached the doorway he leaned on it casually, crossing his arms.

“Imagine the pet names I will come up with once I can call you ‘wife’.”

Nesryn groaned and rolled her eyes, waving him off as she turned toward their bedroom. “Arrogant bastard,” she grumbled.

The prince’s rich, throaty laugh echoed through the sitting room as she slammed the door.

I have not tagged people here, since my tag list requests have come from my ACOTAR fic posts. If you would like to be tagged in any work I post, or if you have preferences as to fandom, please reach out!!

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly. 

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

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[himitsu-luna]

Reaction

ᘛ:｡ Nct 127 reaction to you, his s/o, trying to do aegyo, but stopping in the middle of it after getting too shy, and hiding your face in their chests :°•

~♡° Taeil

Taeil would be laughing brightly at you

Like "uh wait! It was really cute! Why are you hiding? I want to see more! Hahhahaha"

He would unconciously put his hands on your back, holding you in a light and caring hug, sustaining the foolest smile on his face

He would find your shyness absolutely adorable

When you finally get away of his chest, and he sees your flustered and red face, looking down and smiling embarrassed, he can't hold another warm laugh, while he caresses your head

He is someone who doesn't care to make fool of himself, just to make you feel better about yourself.

So there he is, doing aegyo like crazy, until you start laughing and forget your own "failed" attempt

~♡° Johnny

Johnny would giggle, that super cute giggle that almost doesn't match his giant body

He just can't with adorable things, and you're rank #1 on his list of preciousness

But he also would not miss the opportunity to tease you a bit.

"What? what? Ohhhhh what do we have here? Are you being shy, y/n? Owwn look at you all shy!!!"

As you snuggle even more into his chest, he would just hug you tightly, completely absorbed in the moment, thinking about how lucky he is for having you by his side

Then he would let you go from his arms, and would playfully poke your red cheeks, reassuring you that it was the cutest thing he ever saw

~♡° Taeyong

Taeyong would be laughing at you, while running his fingers through your hair

It's not a mocking laugh, ofc. It's a laugh of someone who is about to explode out of happiness. He just cannot contain himself

His tender eyes looking at the top of your head sparkle and give out all the affection and love he feels for you

You say: "Sorry! It was cringe, I know!"

To what he responds, with the softest voice ever: "It's was good, It was good! ...Can't you hear my heart beat?"

And you indeed can hear strong, fast yet steady pulses coming out of his chest

~♡° Yuta

Yuta would immediately have a super cheeky grin on his face

His eyes would be saying something like "You all see? This cute adorable awesome amazing fluffy ball here is mine!"

He would engulf you completely in a hug while resting the side of his face on your head, eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of having you just for him

He also doesn't want to discourage you, because he definitely wants to see your cuteness more times.

So he keeps saying "You did great! You did great! Now, show it to me again!", with that sunshine smile he has

~♡° Doyoung

A lot of things go through Doyoung's mind while you hide your face in his broad chest

He definitely finds you the cutest human being ever. Maybe the only one who makes aegyo acceptable for him

He thinks about how you make him soft and weak for you

He wants to pinch your cheeks, but his body just doesn't move for a while

When it finally does, is for planting a caring kiss on the top of your head

And jokingly telling you that he will repay your bold attempt of flustering him with a nice homemade meal

~♡° Jaehyun

Jaehyun would be internally fanboying over you

It's crazy how you affect him with so little. He is as shy as you, or even shyer

His eye smile and dimples never showed off as much as they are now, while he holds you in his arms

When you're about to straight yourself to look at him again, he pulls you into another hug, saying -" You can stay a little bit more like this, if you're still feeling shy, you know."

But this is all because he doesn't want you to see how red the tip of his ears are

~♡° Jungwoo

Jungwoo would be delighted by this situation

"Why why whyyy??Let me see yoouuu!!" , He would say, almost whining, trying to see your face

He would start to act cute right away, to make you continue what you were doing

He would grab your hands and pull you into a cute dance with him

And he surely has the power to make you comfortable, because there you are, doing aegyo for him again, this time with a confidence in it you never knew you had

He would then giggle at you, pat your head, and say : "See? It's not difficult!! You did amazing!"

~♡° Winwin

Winwin would not have strong reactions to your aegyo, but it doesn't mean he didn't like it

He would find it adorable. His hands would instantly go to your waist in an uncousciously attempt to not let you go, and he would be smiling like a fool.

As you raise your face to look at him, you ask him how to properly do aegyo.

He is confused. "Is this still an aegyo attempt?", he thinks, because you look precious and the cute feelings are still lingering in his heart

He doesn't even think twice.

He shows the best of his cuteness, in the most innocent way. He does it just for you.

Now it's his turn to feel shy and try to hide his face on you (it's just an excuse to give you a big bear hug)

~♡° Mark

Giggles giggles giggles! Mark would be a giggling mess

After recovering from his almost never ending laughing, he would be clenching his teeth, trying to suppress his urge to just squeeze you.

Which doesn't work, because all you can feel is him hugging you with all his strenght

He says "Cuuuuteee!" so many times you lose the count

When he finally lets you go, you are kinda pouting a little, feeling the consequences of being smashed with love

And there he goes again, embracing you in another tight and affectionate hug

~♡° Haechan

When Haechan sees your aegyo, he tries to play it cool and act unimpressed

But as soon as you burry your face on his chest, he let's his giggles escape

You're just too adorable, and he can't deal with his feelings

He would keep you like this as much as he can, caressing your head and giving you lots of kisses

But out of nowhere he would start to tickle you, this evil boy

And as you look at him, still tearing up from the attack of laugher you've just went through, he says, full of himself: "You don't even need to do aegyo to look cute, y/n! But I'll teach you my techniques if you want to!"

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

@m4rshm4llow ｡*♡ I hope you like it!!!

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

Hi everyone! Here is a little fic in Anakin’s POV I wrote for Codywan Week 2021! @codywanweek thank you so much for the prompts and facilitation of all of this! So excited to share it with everyone. This is for the Medbay alt. writing prompt. Will be posting to AO3 under the same username shortly. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

All Disgustingly in Love

Anakin made it a point to visit Obi-Wan in the Medbay, even if it was only a way of annoying his former Master with endless teasing. The elder man had never been particularly fond of presenting his weaknesses. Yet, every time a mission went wrong, Anakin was always the one to see him at his weakest moment.

This time it was an explosion; a large violent explosion of a hidden Separatist lair that had found itself in the sandy dunes of Anakin’s home planet. When it had been discovered by some locals, they had been contacted promptly. Anakin, vengeance on his mind, was first to volunteer to blow it to pieces. Yoda would only allow it if Obi-Wan came along for “damage-control” purposes which only drove Anakin to desire the most brutal of destruction he could achieve. Naturally, this led to Anakin’s implantation of a bomb in the underground cavern. Without an extra instant to warn Obi-Wan of his devious plan, the explosion took the Jedi Master by surprise. Let’s just say that Obi-Wan was definitely not impressed judging by the sand-burns on the exposed skin of his wrists and face and his obviously broken arm.

So Anakin was on his way to visit his Master in the Medbay not just to make fun of him, but probably to eventually apologize for an unfortunate explosion that somehow turned into a surprise medical-evac.

As soon as Obi-Wan had lifted his arm up from the hot sand with a piercing cry that made Anakin cringe outwardly, he was already comming Cody with an order to please for the love of the Force come here and get your boyfriend. Oh, because Cody was a thing with Obi-Wan now apparently and he was supposedly the only person who could effectively provide any sort of comfort to the untouchable High General Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan wanted nothing to do with Anakin’s half-hearted attempts to lighten the mood. Instead, he would rather lean into the embrace of his Commander. Ahsoka would giggle at Anakin’s gagging motions he made as Obi-Wan curled into Cody’s chest or grasped his hand like it was his one remaining life-line.

Anakin didn’t understand it, nor did he try. He supposed he would have to resign himself to the woeful position of second-best.

Anakin contemplated stopping by the training room on the way to the Medbay. He hated to admit it, but he was stalling. There was nothing worse than the disappointed tuts that Obi-Wan would toss his way once he entered the room. While the doors to the training room tempted him, Anakin set his sights on the Medbay with pure ambition to make his apology meaningful.

As he entered the red doors marking the entrance of the Medbay he was met with the smiling face of Kix who seemed to be scouring the medical supply closet for some extra field supplies. “Ah, here for Obi-Wan?” he said with a suspicious smirk. “He’ll be expecting your apology.”

Anakin tried his best to not roll his eyes. Great. “I was already planning on doing so. Tell him I don't need a hint next time.” Kix laughed under his breath and stuffed a few containers in his bag.

“He’s down the hall on the right. Be nice.” Anakin walked silently down the hallway and hoped with all of his being he would not be met with a smugly smiling Obi-Wan. He paused in front of the door where Obi-Wan’s robes sat folded neatly in a box by the door. Here we go. Anakin breathed out a deep sigh and pushed the door open with words already forming on his tongue.

“Obi-Wan I am just-” He flung the door open and his wide eyes were immediately fixated on the sight before him. Obi-Wan laid in the bed on his side, broken arm slung carefully in front of him. His cheeks were a rosy pink and Anakin could see that a bacta patch was covering the scrapes that lined his cheek and jawline. Behind him, Cody was curled around his back, legs intertwined with Obi-Wan’s atop of the sheets. The man was dressed in only his blacks while Obi-Wan wore clean white pants and no shirt at all. It was an unexpected sight that made Anakin’s eyes grow wide. Most alarmingly, however, was the way that Cody’s lips were suctioned to the skin of Obi-Wan’s neck. Cody nibbled at his skin and ran his tongue over the shell of Obi-Wan’s ear. The ginger shivered and a gentle moan escaped from his lips before the pair realized their unwanted visitor. “Kriff-”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s cheeks burned an even brighter shade of red than before as he tried to sit up straight. Unfortunately, it resulted in him using his bad arm to push himself upward. A sudden shrill wail left Obi-Wan’s mouth as he collapsed down onto the bed.

“Shit!” Cody grunted as he sprung from the bed and pulled Obi-Wan off of his bad arm and onto his back. Anakin rushed to his other side and placed a reassuring hand onto his bicep, eyes tracing over Obi-Wan’s form for damage.

Obi-Wan let out a few deep breaths before looking up at Anakin with a whispered, “I’m fine, it’s okay.” Maybe Obi-Wan was okay but Anakin certainly was not.

“I cannot believe I just saw that.” Anakin sputtered and stared at the flustered Commander who stood with a hand resting on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, “I forbid Cody from ever coming near you again. Ever.” At least in my presence. Anakin eyed the purpling mark forming on Obi-Wan’s neck just below his ear. Teenagers; they were acting just like teenagers.

“I can do what I want with my own neck, Anakin.” Obi-Wan deadpanned, no evidence of a teasing smirk, just blanked seriousness spread across his blue eyes. Cody blushed furiously and buried his shaking head in his hands.

“And so can Cody, apparently.” Anakin narrowed his eyes. “This is the Medbay, Obi-Wan. For Force-sake please don’t ever subject me to that again.”

“We will settle on this as payback, yeah?”

“Fine. I am not apologizing for the explosion after that.” Anakin turned on his heel and stomped towards the door. “Cody, keep your hands off of him.”

“Yes sir.” Cody murmured as if Anakin was actually ordering him around. His cheeks were still burning with the remnants of embarrassment. With that, Anakin shut the door a little too loudly behind himself and leaned his head against the cool metal of the door. Through the thin door he heard Obi-Wan’s voice.

“Cody, dear, he’ll get over it. He’s resilient. Come back here, I wasn’t finished with you.”

Karking traitors all disgustingly in love.

[suicidalslasher]

forever & always. ➤ tom. h.

Happy Valentine’s Day~!!! I couldn’t contain myself and or stop myself from writing about my favorite Valentine’s day killer. So, here you go :)

WARNING: descriptions of gore and blood. in this one-shot, the reader’s pronouns are she&her.  i might make a part two of this, depending on how well it does. maybe not. i like how it ends, regardless. either way. enjoy.

The news spread like wildfire. No matter which way you went, there was always a flame, reaching out towards those to burn. Try as you may, you can't get away. The words that littered the air was nothing more than burnt ashes fluttering around, burning each object as it flies above said thing or said person. In this case, the people of a small town called Valentine Bluffs were the ones burning from the inside and out. They felt trapped within the smoke, unable to seek out which way to escape the dangers that had followed.   The terror; the trauma; the panic and anxiety attacks; All of it - they thought it was long gone.... they were finally going back to being normal, how things used to be. 

They were going back to a life that wasn't full of fear, having to look behind your shoulder constantly and being careful of who you trust. It was all going to be okay, happy once more. They'd finally be able to celebrate their favorite day once again.  But... as you may have guessed, it's not quite  easy to put out a rapid wildfire. All it takes is a small fire to expand out into something bigger, bolder, and scarier. You can't escape the flames. No matter how big or small. You cannot ignore the overwhelming burning sensation that  glazes across your skin as the fire around you grows larger, making you feel smaller and smaller by the second.  The words, however, the statement that was fluttering around like specks of ash,  wasn't at all a sentence (nor an actual fire)  but a name - Harry Warden.  1997. Valentine's day. Everybody, in & out of town, knows what happened.  For a brief period of time there, nobody celebrated Valentine's day, having thought it out to be cursed.  Yet, as time went on, there was no sign of Harry Warden. No copy cat killer version of him, neither. So, the people went back to celebrating. Writing hand written love letters,  buying cheaply made cards at the local supermarket, buying and or receiving overly priced chocolates. Anything, everything, people did it with  love in their hearts and a smile on their face.  Today was Valentine's Day, once more. Expect it wasn't the way it had been for the past 9 years. It was exactly like the day in 1997. History was repeating itself.  Instead of love, presents, and reserved dinner dates being celebrated and shared, the town of Valentine Bluffs  got decomposed, rotting corpses,  instead. Blood scattered outside and inside of buildings. 

  It was worse than before, more bodies were showing up without their hearts and the missing body piece would be found neatly placed in between a plastic heart shaped box. All of which would be sent to the police station as a joke, as  a threat.  Even a card would be taped on top or under the container, though the sentences were far from cheerful and loveable.  A few of them had been thrown aside, only having been read once. Those who opened it and read it aloud usually found themselves cringing in dismay  as they read the paragraph out loud all while  shifting around in their seat, uncomfortably.  

Once they read it, they shook their heads as tears welled up in their eyes before they threw it into the trash bin or ripped it into hundreds of tiny pieces, not daring to open another letter that's brought in. Evidence or not, the workers couldn't keep their breakfast or lunch down when they'd read the cards.  The recent two cards had said;  From the heart comes a warning, filled with bloody good cheer, remember what happened as the 14th draws near!  And the last victim, a girl named Maryanne Anderson, had gotten a card right before she was found dead, her body laying in a ditch to rot.  Her card had read; Roses are red, violets are blue, one is dead, and so are you.  Nobody knew who the new killer was, or if it even was a new killer, copying Harry's schemes and following in his footsteps.  It could have very well been  the same man all those years ago. That's what they were saying.   (Y/N) (L/N) was in her car, driving back home from work when her favorite song had been replaced with an alarm, cutting off her favorite part. "Oh, c'mon!" She groaned, hands hitting the steering wheel in annoyance  before she goes to turn up the volume anyways, wondering what's so important that the town and the police station had to turn off her favorite song. 

She knew about the murders, she knew there was a serial killer around, she already knew this already. And yes, she was petrified, as most people were. When the first body showed up, the mayor of town announced there'd be a curfew until they found out who is doing all of this. Whether it was one person or more, they'd find a way to capture the killer. No matter what. There was not going to be another murder.

 (Of course, there was more.) 

 (The original curfew was getting home at 9:30. Now, it had gone down and you'd have to be indoors, at your house, by 6:30 PM.)  Students in school would get out earlier, as well as the adults in town. The only ones who didn't get to go home so early in the day were those who were trying to protect the people of Valentine Bluffs.  "We are sorry to interrupt that song there," came the  radio host's deep and groggy voice. "However, this is more important than your favorite throwback jams. I've gotten an officer here with me, he had just shown up not even a second ago to tell us more news on the situation we are currently in. So, please, listen carefully."  "Yeah, whatever. I already know what's going on. Tell me something I don't know." (Y/N)  turns off the radio as she pulls up in her driveway, feeling a sense of comfort clouding over her, another day, she's okay; safe and sound, unlike a few of her old high school friends that were gutted like fish and butchered like pigs. 

She shivers at both the bitter and harsh wind brushing against her  as she steps out of her vehicle and the obvious visual of whatever masked man (or men) that's around, killing innocent people for whatever given reason.  Hurrying along the steps to her porch, she digs her keys out of her jacket pocket, finding them within seconds before she's pushing them into the door as quickly as she could. She didn't show it, tried not to show it, but she was as anxious and paranoid as everyone else was. 

(Y/N) was  trying to hold back her fear but the moment she gets home, locking all the doors and windows, the uneasy feelings creep up on her and every negative emotion takes charge.     With a sigh, she falls down onto the couch with a plop, reaching for the remote, she turns on the TV, attempting to try and get her mind off of things.  Of course, every station wasn't what she wanted to watch, the news replacing every channel.  She skipped and skipped but it all remained the exact same. With a groan, she decides to listen to what they were saying, even though she really didn't want to hear it as it'd only make her anxiety worse.  "I am Jonathan Godfrey. We're sorry to interrupt your daily scheduled programs, however, a man you may know as Tom Hanniger has escaped from his stay from a mental hospital."  (Y/N)'s eyes nearly budge out of her head at the mention of the man's name,  the remote she had in the palm of her hand goes flying, falling down onto the ground by her feet. Tom? Mental hospital? It didn't make any sense! Everyone... including her, thought he was dead! She, with shaky fingers, grabs the remote to turn the volume up.   Jonathan's own eyes were wide as he read the teleprompter, his voice now grew shaky as he spoke. Fear was written across both his and his co-worker’s face. "Unfortunately, we don't have any more information or news as to where he's escaped off to. Or where he may be as of the moment. All the reports, every last piece of information we have been received  has said he's been missing since two days ago.  He can be anywhere.  More importantly, he can be here, hiding out." His voice trembled as he spoke, it was also very faint - almost ghostly. Quiet as a mouse. His skin was pale, making it appear as if he was a ghost rather than a living person that sat in the chair there.  

 Jonathan couldn't continue, this much was obvious, therefore his co-host, Abigail Miller, continued where he had left off.    "This being said, please, lock the doors and windows of your home. If you have a weapon to guard your own life and protect your ground, get it out now. Please, protect yourself the very best you can. And do not, I repeat, do not answer the door. Do not leave your home whatsoever. Whatever is outside of your house is surely not more important than your life.  

“Whether it is Tom that has been doing this or not, we're not exactly sure. All we tell you is to be careful and remain indoors until we can find Tom and or find the Valentine's killer. This has been Jonathan Godfrey and Abigail Miller, with the news. Stay safe and God bless." The program that was previously playing showed up finally, the neon colors swirling together to form the title of the show, along with a fairly way too cheerful theme song playing faintly in the distance as the introduction played out. (Y/N) had never heard of it before, but from a quick glance, it appeared to be a sitcom from the late 70's.  The only source of light was coming from the television screen, casting colorful shadows across (Y/N)'s face. She had felt too tired to have turned on the lights upon entering her house. Work was short, the hours having grown thinner because of the curfew, however, it was still tiring all the same.  She instantly regretted not doing so now, however. 

She sat in the dark, her heart thumping loudly against her chest as she pulled a near by blanket around her shoulders as if the thick fabric would comfort her and protect her. The room had gotten colder ever since the report was announced. Goosebumps ran up and down (Y/N)'s body, the baby hairs on her neck stood on end as a shiver slid up and down her spine. Despite the blanket being around her body, she felt nothing but cold, numb. Suddenly, the TV went out with a soft 'ping'.    (Y/N) gasped and her heart stopped beating all together.  She felt like she couldn't breathe, she couldn't tell if she was going crazy either when she heard what sounded like  footsteps coming down from the hallway. She sat, frozen, on her couch, unable to move, unable to breathe.  Then.... a knock. Followed by another and another. It was right outside, coming from not the front entrance but the back yard. "(Y/N)? (Y/N), please..." came the voice.  ​​​​​​​And (Y/N) recognized that voice anywhere.  She knows she shouldn't.... everybody said not to but... she couldn't help herself.  Getting up as quickly as she could, she runs down the hallway, the sounds of her feet echoing against the thin walls as she reaches the door, tugging it open.   There, on the other half of the door, stood nobody other than Tom Hanniger himself.   He looked up, surprised she had answered the door.  Giving her a weak, lopsided smile,  Tom's pulling her into a tight hug, his head falling down in the crook between her shoulder and neck, tears flooding his eyes as he soaks her shirt, silently weeping. "(Y/N).... fuck, I've missed you so much, missed you so bad." Tom confesses with a sniffle.  "Tom... I- what're you doing here? They're looking for you, you know this, right? Everybody's looking for you. And.... and I- fuck, Tom! I thought you were dead. Everybody in town thought you died the day your father did." (Y/N) didn't hesitate to hide her true feelings. She was a mixture of emotions. Angry, happy, sad, scared - she was feeling every single emotion there possibly was. "I know... I know. I-I have a lot to explain and a lot to tell you but please, right now, can we just- can we just play pretend?" He asked, moving away from her shoulder as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater, his eyes remained watery and his skin was flushed as he looked up at (Y/N).  (Y/N) guessed it was a mixture of three things - running away from the mental hospital to where her house was to  the bitter and harsh February air. Plus, the crying he had just done, too. His face was red and blotchy from all three. Despite it being so cold, sweat trickled his face, a few drips of it falling along side his cheeks. "Play pretend?" (Y/N) echoed, tilting her head to the side, unsure of what he meant.  "Let's play pretend." He repeated, licking his lips. "Let's play pretend and imagine none of this horrid, crazed shit is going on right now. Let's pretend it's only me and you. It's Valentine's day, isn't it? Let's celebrate. After all, it was one of our favorite days to spend together."  Heat rose to (Y/N)'s cheeks and she bit on her bottom lip, rocking back and forth on the bottom of her feet.  "Tom.... I-I'm...You want-" She couldn't from sentences, her thoughts were mushing together and it was all too much for her to handle. She felt like she was going to pass out. "I want you, (Y/N). I want you as bad as I did then and I want you just as badly right  now. There has never been a day where I wasn't thinking about you. You were the love of my life. I still love you, maybe even more, now. Let's celebrate, please. We can talk about everything tomorrow morning. I promise I'll tell you everything.  Right now, let's play pretend, let's act like it's just us again, like when we were teens.... I've missed you. And.... and I know you've missed me too or else you wouldn't have opened the door." And, yeah, okay, he was right.  "Tom..."  "(Y/N)." He stepped closer to her, closer than he had done before, as he rests his hand against her cheek, fingers brushing against her skin as he looked into her (E/C) eyes.  "I love you. I never stopped. And I know you love me, too.... so, please, baby girl.... can I just show you how much I love you?" (Y/N) shouldn't have answered the door. She should have called the cops when she heard his voice. Everything was too much of a  coincidence. 

Her power was working perfectly fine until Tom had shown up. 

Now that she was thinking about it.... 

There was also no victims until she had heard the news Tom had left the asylum. Three days ago.... 

Three days ago, there was the first victim; Maryanne.  If she thought too much about it, got too deep into the rabbit hole, she would have assumed Tom Hanniger was the Valentine's killer - The Miner.  Yet... looking at Tom, she knew he wasn't - couldn't - be the killer. If he was, he would've killed her too, right? Tom Hanniger's been through too much, and just like she was there before, she was going to be there for him now. Through Hell and back.  

She would stay by his side, no matter what. She still kept the old promise ring he had given her in high school, along with the note in which he confessed his feelings. In which, he told her - one day - he'd marry her. She was the perfect girl for him, as he was the perfect man for her.  A promise is a promise. When she said 'forever and always', she meant that. (Y/N) knew Tom meant it, too.  "I love you too."   Tom's quick to place his lips on (Y/N)'s and (Y/N) is quick to kiss him back just as hungry, just as fierce. She tangles  her fingers through her hair and pulls on it, earning a groan from Tom. Satisfied with the result, she tugs him into her house by the sleeve of his shirt, slamming the door shut with her foot. 

"I've missed you, baby." He says, not daring to pull away from the kiss.

"Show me how much you've missed me then, baby." She mumbles against his lips. "Oh, I'm going to."  "Let's go celebrate Valentine's day the right way then. Come on, let's go upstairs."   Tom grins and  (Y/N) smiles back before she's pulling him up the stairs and into her bedroom. 

Forever and Always. It was them until the end. Nobody would ever separate the two of them, again.... not even Harry Warden was going to destroy Tom’s happiness... not this time.

[urijihoons-blog]

Bokuto: Clarity

/ Kōtarō Bokuto x reader /

genre: angst to kind of fluff ish(?)

wc: 1507

summary: After you leave Bokuto in the hotel, crap hits the fan.

warnings: none.

a/n: thank you guys so much for your love!!!! :)) means the world to me!! pt1 can be found here :)

pt2

///

Where could she have gone? This is all my fault. Is she safe? I need to fix this. Am I strong enough to?

Bokuto took long strides back to the hotel room with the full intention of finding you and making sure you were at the very least safe. He made you this way, he made you upset and irrational.

You flinched under his touch. The memory still freshly burned into his mind, for a brand is something that cannot simply be erased.

He shakes the pain away, focusing on the task at hand, finding you. He swipes the room key and glides around the suite, finding warm clothes for his search in the night. He checks his phone every couple of seconds in between his clothing search. It’s made clear almost immediately that you’ve turned of your phone, sending him to voicemail and making him unable to see your location. Great.

When he’s completely ready to leave the room, he can’t find his rental car keys anywhere. He searches the bedside table, the dresser, the bathroom, and that’s when he finds it. On the bed sits the box containing his anniversary present from you.

He doesn’t even know when you laid it here, which is strange because he can remember every heart-wrenching second of you being in this room. He picks it up tenderly, and sits soundlessly on the edge of the bed. He can guess what it is, it’s not everyday you get a box shaped like this. His throat goes dry, vision already getting a slight blur around the edges.

The tiny box is covered in black silk, soft to the touch. He presses it open with a snap and his shoulders tighten. Inside is the wedding ring you had picked out for him. It is a thick band of pale silver, with an inscription on the inside of the bend. It read, ‘Forever, my love.’ Bokuto gingerly takes the ring from the box, and puts it on. It’s a perfect fit, and it looked just as he was sure you intended it to.

“I have destroyed my own happiness.” He whispers to himself, alone in his dark hotel suite.

His phone starts to buzz in his jacket pocket and he frantically tries to pull it out, not even noticing the stream of tears staining his shirt. Is it you? Are you okay? Where are you?

“Bokuto, you won’t believe what Tamra is saying to everyone in the bar right now! Did you really do that to Y/N? I-“

He cut Hinata off quickly, trying to clear his name, “I promise, it isn’t at all wha-“

“Uh, I’ve got to call you back.”

//

You have to recompose yourself again as you walk into a crowded building going straight for the noisy bar area when you hear a clear, familiar voice ring, “Uh, I’ve got to call you back.” You turn in that same direction where you see Hinata and a couple of the other guys out having drinks. Great. “Y/N?” You barely hear over the sounds of drinks clinking and people bustling.

“Shoyo, I-“ You start off, just trying to be alone right now.

“And then, someone knocks on the door, and guess who it is?” A woman laughs obnoxiously, loud enough for the whole bar to cringe. That voice. “It’s his girlfriend! The look on her face when she saw me in just a towel-“

You walk over calmly to the table containing Bokuto’s teammates, all of them looking extremely uncomfortable by this story. When you come into complete view, the whole group stiffens. Hinata is trying to stop you, saying something you can’t quite hear. Everything is moving so fast in your mind, as if you’re not in control over yourself anymore, you’re simply along for the ride. You stroll right up to stand face-to-face with her, staring into this girl’s, Tamra’s, eyes. “I’m not a girlfriend,” You lift your left hand up while wiggling your ring finger, and put your right hand’s palm on the back of her head, slamming it onto the table. “I’m the fiancé.”

At the sudden sound of a crack of wood fills the room, the building goes completely silent. You jump back in surprise at your lack of control in this moment, equal parts horrified and satisfied. You walk briskly out of the building, hoping that you could escape before someone decided to call the cops on you for assault.

As you walk down the empty street, tugging your collar to hide your neck and cheeks from the frosty air, your barriers come down yet again. Your knees buckle and you have to steady yourself on the nearby wall of a building just to keep from completely collapsing to the ground. Your shoulders are heavy with the weight of today, and you just want to forget it all happened.

I don’t want to believe this, I can’t believe this, my Bo would never.

But he did.

You saw the evidence, you heard the story. The hands you gave your heart to keep safe tore it in two right in front of your eyes. It’s all right there, slapping you over and over again. Random flashes of the night start playing in your mind, reminding you of your fresh wounds. To escape the windy night, and your misery, you decide to try another bar.

After you enter, you realize it’s a pretty low-key place. It was dim, the bar area was almost completely empty, and they were playing calming orchestral music in the speakers. You found a chair to call your own for the night, felt someone claim the seat beside you, and after that everything’s a blur.

//

“Kuto, you are never going to guess who I just saw at the bar!” Hinata practically screams into the phone, right into Bokuto’s ear.

“Who-“

“Y/N!” He says excitedly, “She overheard Tamra and she-“

“Where is she? Please go grab her! She’s run off and turned off her cellphone!” Bokuto expresses his worry. “Better yet, where are you? I’m on my way.”

Bokuto stands from the bed immediately, finally finding the keys in his jacket pocket. He had them the whole time? Ugh. He stomps out of the hotel room, hastily walking to the elevator. “Oh, she left a little bit ago, we had to stop Tamra’s nose from bleeding.” Hinata let out a little giggle. “We thought she broke it.” Bokuto let out an internal sigh. Wait-

“What happened at the bar again?”

“Come to our usual hangout and I’ll explain everything when you get here.”

-

Bokuto arrives on the scene to a smily Hinata, a sea of angry stares from his teammates, and a pissed-off, red-faced Tamra. As he sat down at the table, no one made a sound. “Where’s your little slut?” Tamra broke the silence, managing a devilish smirk. She stepped towards Bokuto with ease.

“I don’t believe you have any grounds to call someone a slut, not today not ever.” Bokuto spat back, his eyes dark with resentment. Tamra stiffened immediately. “Get away from me, now.”

“That’s not what you were saying earlier,” her eyes narrowed, taking another daring step closer, trying to keep her seductive air about her. “you know, in your hotel room?”

“Oh yes, yes I did, you just don’t know how to listen.” Bokuto shot back, pushing off the table to tower over her. He looked down at her in disgust. “Now, get away from me.” Tamra flinched under his glare, and wordlessly walked into the crowd.

“What do you mean you told her to get away?” “Wait-“ “Does this mean-“

Bokuto looked over at his teammates, all of them sharing similar facial expressions of confusion. “What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t cheat on Y/N.” The table’s faces went from looks of confusion, to relief, and ended in gloom as Bokuto explained the entirety of his whole night. He finally sat back down after he finished, slamming his fist on the table in complete frustration. He mournfully looked down at his left hand, thinking of your sad eyes on the elevator. The woman he loved so much, turning away from him. “What am I going to do?”

“Tell her!” Hinata grabbed his hair in his hands, tugging on it with aggravation. “Freakin’ duh!”

“But,” Bokuto couldn’t lift his head to meet his team’s eyes, his shoulders slouched, “I’ve lost her trust.” He said just above a whisper. “She left the hotel and turned off her phone. I’ve left countless text messages, so many voicemails. She’s somewhere out in this city alone, and I’m afraid for her and her safety.” He closes his eyes, his eyelashes wet. “What if she doesn’t believe me? I wouldn’t blame her. Worse, what if she does believe me, and still chooses to leave?” He sniffles. I don’t think I could live with it. “What am I going to do?”

“That’s why you have us, Kuto.” Hinata places a hand on his tense shoulder. “We will help you find her.”

///

I really hope this lived up to pt1, and if you really enjoy it like/comment for a pt3!! :)))) again, thank you so much for the love and support, it means so much!!

Update: heres part 3 :)

[sophiamcdougall]

EXPLAINING SANREMO

(PART 1) Last week I was swept away, helpless, by the avalanche that is the Sanremo Song Festival and I am still recovering. For your safety, I’ve tried to keep the insanity contained on my Italian side blog. But I want to try to offer you a rough summary of what I’ve learned. Sanremo inspired the Eurovision Song Contest. Over five nights, 24 acts, each with a brand new song, compete at the Ariston theatre in Sanremo for a tacky little golden lion, and the glory of being the year’s Song for Italy. 2020 marked the 70th Sanremo, so depending on who you ask, it’s a venerable national treasure or it’s stale and embarrassing (Many Italians are sick of it. Or say they are, but see below.) It is also an EPIC STRUGGLE between THE FORCES OF GOOD AND EVIL FOR THE SOUL OF HUMANITY Let’s meet some of the protagonists: 

AKA: host Amadeus, entertainer and comedian Rosario Fiorello, il Bel Paese, and competitor Achille Lauro.

Amadeus got things off to a bad start before the show even began by praising his various female co-hosts - all seasoned TV professionals - for their beauty and their ability to stay “a step behind a man.” Outrage ensues, Amadeus claims he did not mean it like that, but keep this in mind for later. Also competing are Morgan (below, left) and Bugo (below, right.), who are performing a duet.

Going in, the one thing I know about Morgan is that on more than one occasion, he trashtalked my beloved and blameless Fabrizio Moro. So I hate him and want him to suffer. And apparently he has quite the reputation for throwing tantrums, picking on fellow-artists and sabotaging events he’s part of. But hey. He’s supposedly talented and Bugo clearly thinks he deserves another chance.  And we’re off!

Irene Grandi kicks things off with  “Finalmente Io” (“Finally Me”). But I’m starting with her not so much because she’s the first to sing as because I don’t think the song’s  got enough attention -- either for the fact that it bangs or for what it represents in the drama that’s about to unfold.

Finalmente Io is what, in the business, we call foreshadowing.

There’s a magical thing that happens to women with when they turn 40. The  develop Not-Giving-A-Fuck superpowers. The song is basically about that. It’s about freedom, and self-acceptance, and being 100% done with male bullshit. (It's also a bit of an ADHD anthem but let’s leave that aside for now.)  “I’ve lost all my patience, and all my fragility,” she sings. 

And, “If you want sex, let’s do it now. Heeeeeeere.”

Irene is the portent everyone misses, a harbinger of what is to come. 

Think of her as John the Baptist.  Onwards. So the first thing one discovers about the Sanremo Festival is that just because we have to get through 24 “big” acts AND 6 (?) new/junior artists, and they all have to perform multiple times, that doesn’t mean there’s any RUSH. Guest singers wander on and perform a song or ten. There’s comedy. We can stop everything to talk about football.  A lady comes on and talks for a million years about how her granny taught her that True Beauty is Found Within. There are also speeches about important subjects like violence against women. In fact, we are going to talk about that a lot, but also a bunch of competent and experienced female TV personalities are stuck taking turns at playing Amadeus’s Glamorous Assistant of the evening and he can’t shut up about how beautiful they all are while they cringe and lean subtly away from him. So it’s ... slow, and awkward, but within its own cheesy terms, things are normal. Too normal. Enter Achille Lauro. 

Softly, almost whispering, he begins to sing a song called  “Me ne frego”  (”I don’t care” - but with an edge of “fuck you”). This is both an everyday Italian expression and a fascist motto. Well, it was till now. 

A nation is convulsed. Right-wing Italian boomers are screaming because YOU! CAN’T! DO! THAT! AT! SANREMO! THERE! ARE! CHILDREN! WATCHING! Italian Tumblr, which like the rest of Tumblr is feral, thirsty and gay, is screaming for different reasons entirely. 

Achille, you scandalous creature, what have you done? What have you got to say for yourself?

Something strange and magical  has released and it cannot be contained. On with the songs. Good songs, bad songs, blah songs. I like “Tikibombom” by Levante - a love letter to weirdos and rebels, “Rosso di Rabbia” (Rage Red) by Anastasio about being, well, angry but scared you can’t do anything useful with it, and “Eden” by  Rancore, about... the nature of sin?? touching on everything from September 11 to the mafia to Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.   However, this contest is being judged (mostly - it’s complicated) by an industry jury of FOOLS, COWARDS, and TRAITORS who KNOW NOT WHAT THEY DO, so virtually all of the above artists are so far languishing towards the bottom of the provisional rankings. Achille ends up in 17th place and  Rancore at 22.

Truly, the light hath shone in the darkness and the darkness knoweth it not.

LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO RANCORE. 

Rapper down, repeat RAPPER DOWN. SEND HELP.

However, for people who went in implacably biased against Morgan, it’s not all bad news. "Sincero” (Sincere) by Morgan and Bugo is in last place. Whether this is anything to do with the song or because Morgan is a nightmare of a person who has systematically alienated everyone in the Italian music industry except the trusting Bugo ... we can but ponder.  Sanremo grinds on. Days blur into each other and I’m not even going to try to cover events in exact order. Sanremo knows no order. Sanremo is like the universe, linear time is a construct that doesn’t really exist, and chaos happens very, very slowly.  But meanwhile, somewhere on the astral plane:

At least that is what I deduce must have happened.

The competitors and guests look deep within themselves. Do they have what it takes? Are they ready to answer the call? 

Let’s see! It’s Covers Night! Which is also Duets Night!

That’s Elettra Lamborghini (yes, that Lamborghini) and Myss Keta.

 Are they in tune? No. Does it matter? ALSO NO.

Meanwhile ... something strange is brewing between Amadeus and Fiorello...

 But wait, PLOT TWIST.

Enter Roberto Benigni.

The beloved actor and director is the latest avatar of the Dionysian frenzy that has chosen Sanremo 2020 for the place of its birth. He is the One who will unite the electric queer mayhem and the impossible grinding tedium  of Sanremo. In him, the two strains will fuse and become unstoppable. He is going to talk about sex for twenty-six minutes

He reads from the Song of Songs, which ... I knew it was sexy, and all, but is it really like that? Do you ever think about NAKED BODIES? Roberto does. Do you believe in PHYSICAL LOVE? Roberto wishes you would. Anyway, just think of all the sex we could all be having, literally right now, right heeeeere, whether we are  “a woman, and her man. Or a man and his man. Or a woman, and her woman!” He is awful. He is magnificent. He is excruciating. He is spellbinding. We are hanging on his every word and we are considering chewing our own arms off to escape. He proposes an orgy in the orchestra pit. 

Hand on heart, all of that happened. Italian Tumblr, bear witness.

And what of Achille Lauro? He unleashed this madness upon us all,  is he just going to sit back and let everyone else do all the work? Of course not. Achille Lauro came to bring not peace, but a sword, to the world of toxic masculinity and gender in general and his work is not yet done.

”I too was once a little girl,” Achille sings.

Dressed as Bowie-as-Ziggy, Achille duets with Annalisa on “Gli Uomini Non Cambiano” - “Men Don’t Change”. It’s a heartbreaking song by Mia Martini from 1992 about male abuse of women, and not a single word, or a single pronoun has been changed.

However, although he’s the one in the competition, and the one dressed to dazzle, he leaves Annalisa the spotlight. It’s like she’s the tortured protagonist of the song and he’s a voice in her head, a sympathetic spirit who can’t swoop in to rescue her but can quietly affirm that she deserves better than the the hellish treatment she’s singing about. in fact, he pointedly stays a step behind her at all times. And she’s majestic. 

Of course, he’s not fucking DONE

He’s still got to sing “Me Ne Frego” again. Can he top the cape-drop? You be the judge.

So Italian Tumblr,  is now writhing on the carpet,  making a sound only bats can hear, and shitposting itself into delirium, but has it all been ENOUGH?

NO.

Poor Rancore has died again. Toxic masculinity still exists. Amadeus is still pretty gross. Everyone is going to have to GAY HARDER. CAN THEY DO IT? This post is, like Sanremo itself, getting insanely long, so ... STAY TUNED FOR PART TWO, in which Fiorello’s true nature as a chaos being is revealed, Amadeus faces his Calvary, and the gun on the stage goes off.  ----- UPDATE: Part 2 is here

[itslunarwritesstuff]

Movie night

Prompt: “This movie is really scary, but you’re so into it I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time but- WHAT IS THAT”

Word Count: 2,600

Pairing: Shawn Hunter x Fem! Reader

Summary: Weekly movie night at Y/N’s house isn’t exactly what Shawn planned when Y/N picks a horror movie for them to watch. The thing is Shawn hates gore-filled horror movies they scare him half to death but refuses to bruise his ego by telling her and not wanting to disappoint his girl. 

Contains: Fluff, Cuddling, Hair playing, and braiding. 

Y/N/N: Your nickname Y/C/H: Your color hair

Y/L/N: Your last name

___________________________________________________________________________________

It’s the last class period of the day and thankfully it is a Friday so the weekend is coming shortly. 

Y/N is separating her books between what she needs for the weekend and not. 

When she is finished she swings around with her backpack on her shoulders and runs face-first

 into someone.  

Books flying onto the ground and Y/N’s body as well, it takes her a moment to register that this has actually happened and then she sits up pulling her shirt back down to cover her exposed stomach that must have ridden up from the fall. 

That someone is quick to bend down and offer her a hand up and help with her books, that someone being Shawn Hunter her boyfriend of only a few short weeks but a friend of much longer. 

“Y/N I’m so sorry are you okay” he apologizes. 

“No worries honey” Y/N smiles up at him. 

Shawn turns his head as to not look directly at her, his face full of embarrassment from her falling and the casual nickname. 

Mustering up some courage to speak he grabs her books off of the tiled floor and says “So are we still having movie night at your house tonight”?

Shawn hands Y/N the stray books and notebooks and she answers “Yuppers, my parents gave me the okay the other night, and get this! They’re letting us use the basement with the bigger TV; perfect for ‘The Gore Saga: Knife to meet you’”!

Trying to convey the same excitement as she is Shawn lies right through his teeth saying “That sounds awesome, I can’t wait”. 

For a little background, Shawn hates horror movies with gore. Paranormal he can deal with, maybe even psychological thrillers, anything but gore. But it was Y/N’s turn to pick the movie and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin anything for her. So no matter how much he squirmed and cringed he decided he will not say a word on the matter; for her sake and his, he did have his own pride to look out for as well. 

After all of her belongings were stowed away in her backpack she swung the object back over her shoulders and turns her head over towards Shawn’s then spots Cory and Topanga. 

Y/N wouldn’t want to leave her friends out so she tells Shawn “I think we should invite Cory and Topanga, I think it would be fun to have the four of us hanging out”. 

Before Shawn could protest she was already walking over to the infamous couple. 

Shawn usually wouldn’t be against having his two best friends come along but knew if he chickened out they would most definitely poke fun at him and his pride couldn’t take that hit. Also, he wanted to be alone with Y/N cause the difference between tonight and the other movie nights they have had; is Y/N’s parents were gone for the weekend. And Y/N’s older siblings would be the ones “watching them” which meant they could basically do whatever they wanted. Which meant he gets to spend the night, per Y/N’s request of course. 

“Hey Y/N, Shawn how are you guys”? Topanga asks. 

“Besides falling back there, Doing pretty good. Hey, we wanted to ask you two a question” Y/N answers. 

“Okay shoot”.

“So Shawn and I are having a movie night tonight and was wondering if you guys wanted to join us.” 

While Y/N said this Shawn stood behind her swinging his arms and overtly mouthing the word “No”. 

Cory is confused and doesn’t get the memo and almost says yes but Topanga gets the hint that Shawn wants to be alone with Y/N for the night and jabs her boyfriend in the side. 

“We actually have our own date planned tonight but thank you for the offer,” the girl opposite Y/N says. 

Cory still doesn’t get the memo and says “We do”? 

“Yes Cory, remember”?

“No actually, which is alarming cause I remember anything and everything Topanga related,” Cory says with a genuinely worried expression on his face scratching his head.

Topanga leans over and whispers in her partner’s ear, a sudden look of understanding coming over him. 

“Right that date thing” Cory laughs and says “You two have fun...lots of fun” a cheeky smile insinuating something else and walking away behind Topanga. 

“Was he being weirder than usual or was that just me” Y/N turned and asked Shawn. 

“It was definitely him, Trust me”. 

“Okay, will you walk me home. I really don’t want to take the bus today”. 

“Yeah of course. One second let me just grab my bag from my locker”. 

After Shawn grabs his backpack filled with his overnight things and his books that Y/N made him begrudgingly put in there too; they head towards her house. 

It is a nice spring day the only downside was the slight chill in the air despite it being sunny outside. 

Even though Y/N had a sweatshirt on she was still freezing, it was as if Shawn sensed this and put his arm around her shoulder her hand coming up to interlock their fingers. They walked in sync staying close on the narrow sidewalk. Most of the walk was silent because they spoke through touch and subtle glances. 

When they arrived at Y/N’s house her parents were still home but there was no worry, they trusted the two teenagers and her parents just adored Shawn. They wanted Y/N to be with Shawn before Y/N even knew she wanted to be with him. 

“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N almost ready for your weekend getaway,” Shawn asked her parents when they entered the house. Suitcases were lined up next to the front door. 

“Almost, we are just going down our checklist making sure we don’t forget anything.” Y/N’s Mom said frantically checking boxes on the slip of paper in her hand. 

“We left money on the kitchen table for food tonight, so you guys order whatever you want for your movie night” Y/N’s Dad informed them. 

“Thank you, Dad. Love you guys have a safe trip” their daughter pulled each of her parents into individual hugs. 

Her Mom gives Shawn a hug as well “Love you Shawn, be good okay” he nods and returns the squeeze. Y/N’s family has always been there with open arms for the Hunter boy since they were kids. He even stayed with them for a while as well as the Matthews when his Dad went looking for his Mom a while back. 

Y/N’s Dad opted out for the hug and gives Shawn a handshake instead saying “The Gore Saga huh, you’re a braver man than I am Shawn. I have no idea how she enjoys those movies”.

Shawn just laughed as the adults made their way out of the house. 

Later after the pair have eaten and gotten everything set up; blankets and pillows on the couch, refreshments, and the rented VHS tape of ‘The Gore Saga: Knife to meet you’.

Shawn gulped on the couch while Y/N slid the tape into the VCR; she hurried back over to the couch excitedly and all of Shawn’s fear disappeared when she hopped onto the couch next to him. Her smile wider than ever and her head rested on his lap, he distracted himself from the film by running his fingers through her hair. Sometimes making short little braids then pulling them apart right after, and for the most part, his tactic worked. Until she sat up and stretched out next to him to make herself more comfortable, he didn’t have her touch to soothe him anymore. 

(Warning descriptions of gore coming up)

After a few minutes a pretty gruesome scene unfolded on the screen in front of them; its the part of the movie where the killer gets one of the dumb ones who run into every trap he has set while trying to run away, and this guy was now being ran through a humongous factory meat grinder...and he’s dead. Blood, guts, and bones is all that comes out of the other end. 

Shawn could no longer keep his composure he was bugging big time, but when he looked over at Y/N he saw the opposite expression on her face. Where his face was full of disgust and fear, hers, on the other hand, was full of glee and joy. Who would have known that the sweet Y/N Y/L/N was a gore fan, the same girl who cried when they were nine because some kids destroyed an anthill at recess. 

Again he couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Y/N”? he softly pleaded her name. 

She turned her body towards him her eyes barely leaving the screen she was so captivated. 

“Yes, Shawnie” she continues. 

“Could you please come back over here and let me hold you or you could hold me, Even better”! Shawn reached out for Y/N desperately. 

Scooting back over to her guy she motions for him to lay on her lap and god does he! He clasps his arms around her left one holding it against his chest. She senses some of his discomfort, and she makes work by running her nails down his scalp and a rushed breath and hum escaped Shawn’s lips. 

Putting her focus back on the TV while she continued soothing the boy who laid on her legs. 

Another putrid scene of killings displays on the screen and Shawn jumps from underneath her. 

“Shawn, Baby are you okay”? Y/N asks concerned her fingers brushing her sweet boys face. 

“I’m sorry babe it’s just this movie is really scary, but you’re so into it I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time but- WHAT IS THAT”! Shawn screeches. 

Y/N jumps at the shrill noise of his scream but cannot help but laugh shortly after. 

He is just too adorable sometimes, she would have never thought her hot shot of a boyfriend would be squeamish of a little gore. 

Never the less she smiled at him still clinging her arm to his chest while his head laid on her lap.

“Babe, are you okay,” she asked still giggling. 

“Yes …” another blood splatter to the screen made Shawn jolt yet again. His eyes showed defeat as he finished “...No, I mean. This gore stuff isn’t exactly my favorite. 

“Well, why didn’t you just tell me that earlier, Duckie” Shawn always had a soft spot for that pet name it was one she didn’t use often but when she did it made his heart flutter beyond words. 

“I didn’t want to ruin your fun, Y/N/N,” he said sheepishly. 

“Oh, baby. That’s very sweet of you but I have plenty of other movies we could watch. I’ll finish this one another time, no big deal” Y/N let out a breathy laugh at just Shawn being Shawn, and the whole ‘I’ll watch it because you enjoy it’ thing made her stomach flip. 

Giving Shawn another option she says “How about a romantic comedy”? Shawn nodded his head frantically. He would deny it if anyone else knew but Y/N knew Rom/Coms were secretly his favorite. 

Sadly he peeled his body away from hers so she could go and eject the tape and put the new one in. After sliding in the much less graphic film she was less than surprised that she saw Shawn waiting for her to cuddle him on the couch, he had moved from one end to the other where the couch had an ‘L’ shape so they could hold each other while still being able to watch the movie. 

But she wasn’t complaining, whenever she got to touch Shawn in this sweet innocent way she felt like when you do when you’re at home safe and most of the time drowsy. 

She laid there in between his leg;  back laid back against his chest. He had his arms around her torso playing with her fingers that laid relaxed on her sides, and his face was buried into her hair. 

“Shawn darling, what are you doing” she giggled at the tickle of his nose brushing her jawline while he smelled her cascading locks. “Mhm your hair smells so good, and it’s so soft.” his hands slip away from her sides as he starts to comb through the Y/C/H that covered Y/N’s shoulders. After he got all the small knots out, he started braiding her hair again but this time all together instead of little strands. 

Y/N tried her best to pay attention to the love story in front of them but was more distracted by her own, right here in her basement. If she were coyer and the movie wasn’t on she would most likely jump this boy, just to shower him in kisses.

After a while long after Shawn had stopped playing with her hair, Y/N relaxed into his frame, her hands and legs tangled with his underneath the heavy but comfortable knitted blanket on top of them. 

Then came a scene where the guy and the girl have their first kiss and with all of the emotion that’s been building up, they physically cannot keep their lips off of one another and a makeout session ensues. 

Just thinking about Shawn kissing her made Y/N instantly blush, even if they were way past first kisses. 

And now Y/N was the one who couldn’t hold it together anymore, she needed kisses Now. 

Turning in Shawn’s arms she misplaces his head from the crook of her neck where every once and while leave soft little pecks across the splay of skin on her neck and jaw. And it was making Y/N’s body flush with anticipation, but nothing came of it. 

Shawn looked surprised that Y/N had moved but all he softly said was “Baby whats wrong? Do you not like the movie”? And he tucked the loose hair around her face back behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheek thumb grazing the almost invisible baby hairs that tickled while he does so. 

Instead of answering his question Y/N leans in slightly, puts her arms around his neck and toys with the hair at the nape of his neck sending shivers down his spine. 

Knowing what she wants, she makes eye contact with the beautiful boy in front of her and asks “Can I have a kiss please” with the softest voice because she is still afraid he might say no and he is allowed to say no. 

Wasting absolutely no time he closes the gap between them as he cups her face with one hand and the other holding her lower back in a way to balance her almost. Their lips moved as one and Y/N couldn’t help but smile into the kiss a giggle about to pop because of her happiness. 

But before she could, Shawn was laughing and he had to pull away to compose himself. 

Y/N chuckled with him “What’s so funny huh”?

“You’re just so cute and polite. I love that you always ask me before kissing me. And honestly its sometimes surreal that you’re my girl ya know, I mean look at ya.” 

“You aren’t so bad yourself Hunter. And I enjoy being ‘Your girl’ very much”.

Y/N fanned her hands out on Shawn’s chest keeping some distance between them while they spoke so she could see him properly. 

Shawn leaned back in asked “May I kiss you, Princess” “Of course” she answered shortly attaching her lips back to his in a hurry. 

It’s safe to say that the movie was long forgotten for the rest of the night, they were too wrapped up with each other.

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Chapter 4

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

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

Tulipa Rainbow Parrot ~ A tulip whose vibrant warm tones burst from deep violet petals like festive firecrackers.

↞↠↞↠↞↠

“Where is that frilly lass? We are already behind schedule.” Your grandmother exhaled and tapped her foot impatiently. Levi idly counted the butterflies that fluttered at the foxgloves planted along the polished steps he sat upon. In all honesty, he didn’t mind the waiting. The longer they lingered at the property meant less time for his anxiety to rear its ugly head the moment they left you behind.

The harsh crunching of dirt under boots collided with his ear drums as a young woman raced into view. She held fistfulls of her jade colored dress with one hand while the other struggled to keep the satchel on her shoulder as it flapped wildly in time with her pace.

“‘Bout time.” The old woman huffed, crossing her arms and assuming a position that reminded Levi that she was once a high ranking officer in the armed forces. The girl that Levi presumed to be Felicia skidded to a halt in front of them. Her ragged breaths broke the mid-morning calm and her erratic movements had scared off Levi’s counting material.

“I’m here gnädige Frau! So sorry I’m late, I was preparing some tonics for miss Y/N and-well-” Felicia was heaving and inhaled sharply before continuing.

“I dropped the first batch on the floor so I had to clean up the glass but the shattering of the bottle gave me such a fright that I knocked over the mixing bowl and thus there all my ingredients were now wasted so I had to return to the apothecary to fetch new ones and-” Due to her lack of breath, her excited explanation was barely understandable the longer she carried on. Your grandmother held up a hand signaling her to stop. Felicia coughed once and immediately straightened up, clearly intimidated. She brushed the stray honey blonde baby hairs that had haphazardly escaped their hold back into place behind her ears and stood at attention.

“Felicia, that’s enough.” The lack of surprise in your grandmother’s voice let Levi know that this kind of interaction was nothing new.

“This is Levi. I’m very sure you have heard of him, as has the entirety of the walls.” She gestured to Levi with a nod of her head. Felicia gasped, immediately spewing apologies for not greeting him immediately.

“Oh my! Captain, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Felicia sputtered politely, attempting a deep curtsy. Her bag fell dangerously close to the ground as she did so and she just barely caught it when the strap slipped down to her elbow. She fumbled to collect herself and proceeded to salute enthusiastically, puffing her chest and looking straight past either of the other soldiers in front of her.

Levi shot a quizzical look at your grandmother who just shook her head and sighed.

“At ease?” Levi responded.

“Come inside, girl. It’s a shame that this is your first meeting with Y/N in a while.” Your grandmother turned on her heel and started up the stairs. Levi stood up and waited for Felicia to follow her, however she stood impeccably straight at the bottom of the porch. Levi regarded her with raised eyebrows.

“After you.” He stated unsure, arm extended towards the door. She squeaked and nodded vigoriously and trotted into the house, all the way her bag clanking loudly.

The creaking of the stairs was a prelude to the horrified gasp that resounded through the doorway. Felicia’s expression mimicked your grandmother’s when he had presented you in your state. The pure sadness that hummed along her features gave Levi a glimpse at what he must have looked like when he had seen the abnormal swat you out of the sky.

“Gnädige Frau, w-what happened?” Felicia’s voice crackled with emotion and her hands shook against the leather in her hands.

“Titans, that’s what. Her cuts are deep. I reckon she’s got some fractured ribs, too, based on her bruising.” Your grandmother responded. Levi stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed into himself and a hand resting at his chin.

“I tended to her most pressing wounds last night. But I’m afraid her body has gone into shock and she has yet to wake up.”

Felicia nodded, tears beginning to pool at the corners of her eyes. Levi felt a pang in his chest for the girl. You had told him many stories about her; her character painted with fond childhood memories. It was a surreal experience for Levi to be putting so many names and concepts to faces when you weren’t here to experience them with him consciously.

“What have you brought?” Your grandmother inquired, snapping Felica out of her bubbling well.

“U-um, some tonics, antiseptics, salts.” She sniffled.

“Good, good. You are a fine apprentice indeed.” Your grandmother praised and moved so Felicia could get closer to you.

Felicia began unloading the contents of her bag. Levi watched as glass bottles, their liquids a rainbow of colors, were laid out on the table. Her practice seemed more like witchcraft than medicine.

“Where exactly do you apprentice?” Levi asked, curiosity and slight worry about the extensiveness and obscurity of her collection getting the better of him. Felicia halted her actions and stopped what she was doing to properly address Levi, standing straight as an arrow.

“Oh! Besides being a housekeeper for the Vogel estate-”

“Hush, this is no estate. Maybe during my father’s time but now it's just a house.” Your grandmother mumbled while eyeing a thin-necked bottle with a foaming liquid inside.

“R-right, Frau Vogel. In addition to being a housekeeper for the Vogel family , I am also an apprentice at the local apothecary. Krovla’s hospital is constantly overrun these days, so I’m learning how to treat the locals here.” Felicia explained with a formality that contrasted with her scattered personality. Levi nodded in understanding.  

“Felicia, you don’t need to treat Levi like a prized artifact. He’s not your superior officer so stop with this saluting-bullshit. You’re the same age for Pete’s sake.” Your grandmother said, annoyance seeping onto her face.

Felicia let out a squeak and nodded slowly. She was clearly uncomfortable about casually addressing someone of more experience, even if they were the same age. While she was apprehensive about improperly addressing authority, she was not apprehensive about talking. Levi quickly learned that she was quite the nervous chatterbox.

“Captain, gnädige Frau, would you both help me set her up please.” She requested, giving one of her bottles one last inspection and a final swirl.

“Captain, open her mouth please.” Felicia instructed softly. Levi was sitting so close to you that his thigh almost brushed your forearm. Yet, he was afraid to touch you. It was strange, and gave him that familiar stomach churning feeling. How could something so loved and familiar to him feel so fragile and foreign? His thumb ghosted over your pale lips and with as delicate a hand as he could muster pulled down your jaw. He held it there while Felicia carefully had you drink the tonic. It was a painfully slow process where Levi fixed his gaze on your limp form still performing living functions.

“It is wonderful that she is able to swallow.” Felicia commented, relief evident in her voice. She screwed the cap back onto the bottle and discarded it next to her bag.

“Mhm. It could have been much worse.” Your grandmother answered. Her statement rang true but cast a dark cloud over the already damp room. Felicia picked up on this and cleared her throat.

“You know, Captain, when Y/N has been able to return home she always talks about you. She goes on an on and on about your handsomeness, selflessness-” Felicia adorned a nostalgic smile as she recalled your musings.

The corner of Levi’s mouth twitched upward into an almost grin. Damn, you made him sound like prince charming. Which was appreciated, but couldn’t be more far from the truth.

“I gotta say I agree with her that your height is very cute-” She drawled and then bristled like a startled cat. Your grandmother could not contain her guffaw and slapped the now wide eyed Felicia on the back. She didn’t have a filter, poor thing. Like a fawn with a blabber mouth caught at gunpoint, she was.

Levi cringed and let out a deep sigh.

“I-I mean-that’s not a bad thing...right?” Felicia was now as red as a beet and looked as if her head was going to explode out of embarrassment. Levi didn’t respond, only regarded her with the unfamiliar steeliness that scared many.

Frankly, Levi couldn’t give one single shit about how tall he was; or anyone for that matter. But the incessant declaration of cuteness by comrades and strangers alike never sat well with him. Like a fly ceaselessly buzzing against a window it cannot cross. Usually the teasing would be solved with force but he was not about to use that on your family.

“What’s with that look? There’s nothing wrong with being short, I mean look at me.” Your grandmother stated confidently with a wily grin.

↞♞♘↠

The glee of the capital’s festival bled through the streets and blanketed every corner of the city on this celebrated evening. Everywhere he looked was another smiling face infected with the festival cheer. Levi couldn't deny that even he was not utterly immune to the happy virus.

His good mood was mostly due to you (and being able to finally rid himself of the stuffy capital officials), or moreover his alone time with you. After the opening ceremony, which was mostly glorifying the military police while the garrison and corps were there to stand there as ornaments of the government, was mandated break time for all soldiers. You two had simultaneously ditched Eren and Jean when they started getting competitive with the festival games and swerved Hange when she got particularly excited about the fancy delicacies.

Your mood, on the other hand, had done a complete 180 since ditching your decorated uniform for civilian clothes. Your fingers pawed at the fabric of your baby blue dress as intrusive thoughts began to slither through your mind like the blindingly neon colored plush snakes that could be won as prizes. You weren’t usually one to be bothered by the opinions of obnoxious festival goers. Unless it poked at one of your deepest insecurities.

A hundred times over you had told yourself to not let it ruin your night out. That your obsessiveness was stupid. Irrational even. That Levi had proved your persistent opinions wrong many many times. But like anyone knows with a thought that was born deep under your skin and resides within your tissues, it's very hard to eradicate.

“Would you ever date a girl who is taller than you?” One guy asked, gesturing discreetly in your direction from their spot behind you in line.

“Nah man. I wouldn’t be able to feel like a man. She’s sexy though, so even if I was shorter than her I’d make an exception.” One of the others added with a charm only a teenage boy could find appealing. The rest of their party hummed in agreement.

You tried your absolute hardest to focus on the lively drum beats, the elated stomping of dancers, and the boisterous pops of fire crackers. Yet their uninvited snickers remained replaying through your mind. You attempted to present as unbothered as Levi passed you his corndog. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and gave his shoulders a few lazy rolls.

You were supposed to be enjoying the Festival of the Hearth, supposed to be watching Levi lose to you at the hammer strength game, supposed to be happily eating your coma-inducing fried food, supposed to not let comments like that infringe on your happiness. The mental strain of your last expedition paired with the exhaustion that followed official government meetings left you with a petri dish for growing your insecurity. You knew you didn't need the approval of strangers but it ate away at you nonetheless. The victorious chiming of the bell at the top of the game rang with such force that it pulled you out of your pity party.

“I beat you.” Levi announced and turned back to smirk at you. He accepted the plushie, a creature somewhere between a turtle and a duck, from the carnival worker.

“Yeah, good job!” You exclaimed with forced gusto. When your grin cracked Levi squinted his eyes in suspicion. He regarded you with the sternness of a scolding parent, gaze flitting from you to the group behind you.

“How you let other people’s stupid opinions drag you down still gets to me.” Levi looked up at you with light annoyance. His agitation wasn’t a stab towards you but rather frustration that you couldn’t let these things go.

“What do you mean?” You abruptly answered. The hastiness of your reply was about as convincing as a wilted flower.

“It’s useless to play dumb with me. Why are you listening to random brats? Don’t you do enough of that back at HQ?” Levi chided as he cuffed his sleeves, the plushie held securely in his armpit.

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, some people talk too fucking loud.” Levi added, voice like a razor blade. His eyes were a weapon and dug so sharply into the men that they all began to find the neighboring cotton candy machine incredibly visually stimulating. You then hastily pulled Levi to the side to not clog up the line for the game.

“I heard what they said and it shouldn’t matter.” He said as he traded you the food for the plush. It was soft to the touch and looked at you with cold but adorable eyes. Akin to how you would describe those belonging to your love.

“I know. It’s fine, I’m fine.” You assured, hugging the turtle-duck to your chest. You knew too well he wouldn’t pick up the bullshit you were putting down. But, eh, it was worth a try.

He deadpanned and held your gaze so intensely that soon Tesla coils were spinning in the space between the two of you.

“Come on.” He beckoned. His voice was almost too low to hear over the ringing of the carnival games. He weaved the fingers of his free hand with yours so to not lose you as he led you through the hustle and bustle. No words were shared along this walk, allowing all the sensories of the festival to set in. Bodies danced past you in varying frenzies, confetti blasted in sporadic showers from the rooftops, and the artificial lights from the carnival games swept you up and

made you feel like you were in another world. Only a passing hello was exchanged when you briefly bumped into Sasha and Connie in line for the baked potatoes.

Levi parked you at the boardwalk. Plump tulips swayed in time with the music along the base of the railing. The river was alight with wishing lanterns, each one of them twinkling like fallen stars along the rippling water. He unbraided his fingers from yours and gave you that electric look once again.

He turned to you already assured of the outcome of what he was mentally planning.

“Do you wish I was taller?” He inquired nonchalantly. He leaned against the railing and took a bite out of his corn dog.

You huffed, a bit taken aback by his question. When he regarded you with one brow raised, that half smug grin of his made it click. He was trying to get you to realize the absurdity of your worries.

As if you didn’t already know.

“Of course I don’t.” You pouted. The warm light that bobbed from within the floating lanterns danced along your skin, giving you an ethereal glow that briefly made Levi forget what he even asked you. He found your hypocrisy amusingly irritating.

Levi had no self-consciousness about his appearance, for it really didn’t matter to him. He was aware that he was considered “handsome” by you and plenty of others but it was all dirt off his shoulders in the grand scheme of things. The workings of his physicality is what was more important, not its aesthetics.

“What if I said that I hated myself because I am short.” He questioned again. The evenness with which he posed his question did nothing to hide his lack of sincerity. You stared at him like someone who knew they had already lost a bet.

“Well you already hate yourself so-” You responded dryly, attempting to divert the conversation away from your ebbing embarrassment.  Levi rolled his eyes and continued to wait for the response he desired.

“Fine. I would say that it’s dumb to think that way.” You mumbled, resigning to his logic.

Levi’s lips curled. The annoyance that had surrounded him before was dusted off by the soft eyelashes of the night sky. He ditched the remnants of his corn dog in the nearest trashcan and approached you so that only a few inches separated your bodies.

“I would never wish for something as trivial as changing your height. The fact I have to slightly look up at you is one of the most insignificant things in my life.” He stated, tilting his head gently upward to meet your gaze.  His sincerity struck you like an arrow and embedded itself so lovingly within you that it shot all of the pesky doubts right out of your body.

“I know thoughts can get stuck in that brain of yours but focus on what you think of yourself and not what a group of shitheads, or anyone, decides to vomit out of their mouths.” The vulgarity of his sentence made you smile and you nodded in affirmation.

“Thank you, Levi.” You said, letting out one last puff air to rid your body of the sour mood.

He grinned in return, blessing you with one of your favorite sights. Despite feeling like a slight doofus, Levi didn’t belittle you for feeling this way. Moments like these caused the kind man under the marbled facade to peep through and made your chest swell with even more love for him.

“Here, there’s one more thing I want to do to further prove my point.” He said, gesturing towards the wooden booth selling wishing lanterns. Once a few dollars were handed over, the woman behind the counter gave the two of you square pieces of parchment and a pair of quills.

“I can think of a million other things I would rather wish for.” Levi reaffirmed as he dipped the quill in the inkwell.

“Like for the titans to fuck off into oblivion. To make Eren’s asshole the only orphus on his body so I don’t have to deal with his constant screaming. To get Hange to stop asking me for my toenails. Fucking disgusting.” He muttered the last part with a grimace. His attempt to make you laugh had succeeded and his heart bloomed with warmth when he heard you giggle.

“For a bigger bath so we have more room to-” He began casually, instantly being shushed by your finger to his lips. With his lips blocked his eyes smirked instead.

“You can’t write that.” You interjected in disbelief.

“Why not? No one is going to see it. My lantern, my wish.” He replied with a shameless shrug. You shook your head and set down your plushie to start writing your own.

“See? No height changes on this.” Levi declared after a few moments. His sudden display of paper made you quickly conceal yours. Your eyes skimmed over the colorful, yet surprisingly lovely language that dipped you in a feeling as warm as the sugared glaze of the carnival donuts.

“You have a lot of wishes.” You commented. Granted, most of them were obscure and seemed only to be there to lift your spirits.

“This world fucking sucks.” Levi responded as if it was the simplest thing within the walls. You couldn’t completely argue.

“What did you wish for?” Levi prodded as he eyed the paper you held face down to your chest. You defensively folded it in half and closed it within your palm.

“I can’t tell you or else it won’t come true.”

Levi exhaled and pursed his lips.

“You don’t believe that bull do you?”

“I can’t risk it.” You said stubbornly with a playful grin.

“Tell me or I’ll revoke your prize.” Levi urged slyly, nodding down to the turtleduck on the table. You gasped lightly and scooped up the piece of fluff into your embrace.

“You wouldn’t dare separate me from our child.” You accused with feigned offence. Levi looked into those dark, synthetic eyes and huffed.

“We could never produce something as ugly as that creature.” Levi threw back. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from cracking a smile at your exasperated look. He would secretly admit, the animal was actually pretty cute.

“Well for being rude to your daughter you definitely don’t get to know my wish now.” You countered and picked up your lantern and began walking towards the river. You turned to look over your shoulder with an excitement that dismissed the family quarrel.

Amidst hundreds of other festival goers at the river Levi held your lantern as you secured the paper to the inside with yarn. After doing the same for him, you lit the candle near the bottom with a match. The delicate ivory siding of the lantern crackled under your tender touch as you raised yours to the sky. Levi mirrored your movements.

“Ready?” You asked. The two of you looked at each other with unspoken fondness.

“Yeah.”

Then, your chambers of light and worldly prayers slipped past your finger tips and into the cosmos. Two pairs of outstretched palms bid them farewell as they sailed into the galaxy to form a constellation with the thousands of other lanterns that peppered the sky. Those now empty hands were filled with the comfort of each other as they relished in the last few minutes of tranquility before they slipped into the crowd to regroup with the others.

↞♞♘↠

“Alright my girl, we are going to head out now.” Your grandmother announced, wiping her hands on the dish towel and placing it next to the sink. The awake members of the household had gathered in the kitchen before leaving for town.

“Right! I shall start planning out Y/N’s dinner and ours as well.” Felicia said with a determined glint in her eyes. Your grandmother smiled softly at her passionate response.

“Fine, but do not feel obligated to clean anything while I am gone. Although I know you will.” She instructed with a playful sternness. Felicia laughed bashfully before tilting her head in a bow of compliance.

Levi and the old woman’s boots tapped against the porch steps and down towards their awaiting carriage.

“Why don’t you just make her leave if you don’t want her service?” Levi wondered aloud. Your grandmother chuckled gruffly as she lifted herself onto the front seat of the wagon with youthful agility.

“As much as I grumble…” She began with a dreamy sigh. Levi awaited her reply as he heaved himself into the seat next to her, faltering slightly when he had to use his sore shoulder.

“I can’t kick her out because she makes the best schnitzel within these walls.” She confessed, her features glazing over in longing for the immaculately fried breading and juicy pork.  

“So you have something to look forward to when we return.” Your grandmother declared with a crinkle of her eyes and a crack of the reins.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Her Dove, His Falcon, Their Shield Part One

Fandom: Game Of Thrones

Pairing: Eventual Oberyn/Reader/Ellaria

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Disclaimer for Game Of Thrones writing here! This installment contains a reader that is a ruff tuff cheeto puff, a damn juggernaut. STRONK. I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to culturalrebel and hulia for recommending me compilation videos, as well as to @zeldasayer for inspiring me to write a hella buff reader. This is peak indulgence, pauldronsexual hours bois. I wax poetic about Ellaria, it’s a great time. I'll see you all with part two on Monday. Enjoy!

Tag List: @culturalrebel @huliabitch @absurdthirst @helplessly-nonstop

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains depictions of canon-typical violence, allusions to canon-typical abuse, depictions of sexual activities with a pregnant party and vague allusions to breeding kink. Stay safe!] 

You were sure your fingers were broken.

The pain flickered sunlight-bright behind your eyes every time you had tried to move your pinky or your index, your entire right hand so gristly you didn't dare to look at it after you had bound it up as best as you could.

You clutched your hand to your chest, forcing yourself to focus. The wharf. You had to reach the docks. That had been your plan this morning, before everything had gone so terribly wrong. 

You crept through the shadows, dashing away your tears with your threadbare shawl. Your weeping would only be a sign of weakness, urging the vultures to circle on your corpse before it was even cold.

The creak of timbers heralded your arrival to the waterfront and a soft sigh of relief left your mouth when you spotted who you were looking for. The sailor that had promised you passage was there, leaned against the wall of the nearby harbormaster's quarters. He glanced up at the sound of your voice when you hailed him, tipping his head.

"Well well, look what the cat dragged in." He chuckled, wandering hands already tugging at your shawl. "Have you brought the payment, my dear?"

You pulled forth a small purse of coins. "I know it is less than what we promised, but I was unable to-" The man clicked his tongue, obviously disappointed. "I-I am certain we can come to an agreement, please." You begged desperately. You were so close to your escape!

"Darling, we had a deal." The sailor chided, sounding like he was scolding a child. "You bring me the payment, and I convince my captain that having a woman on board our vessel isn't bad luck. Now, at the eleventh hour, you decide you want to bargain?" The man crowded you back against the wall, his face inches from yours when he muttered, "I don't barter with whores." The blow caught you unawares, the back of his hand connecting with your cheek. You shut your eyes when he raised his hand again, gritting your teeth in anticipation of stifling your noise. 

Gods, you were so tired of this.

"What are you doing to that girl?" A man's voice demanded, his distinctive Dornish accent thick with either drink or weariness. "Get away from her or I will cut you down where you stand, you cur." 

"She is hurt, lover." That voice was lilting, intrigued, a woman's voice. "Look at her hand, and the way her face is turned. She has been struck."

You abruptly felt the sailor's weight removed from your body, the sudden action making you cringe back against the wall. Large, trembling fingers eased your wounded hand away from where you had it protectively curled into your chest. "What has happened to you, sweetling?" You didn't dare to open your eyes and the man tsked after a moment, relinquishing your hand. 

"Lover, we must get you onboard, your wounds-" 

"A moment, Ellaria. This…" A hand touched your cheek, making you start and open your eyes. Dark, textured leather armor met your gaze, the surface spattered rusty with blood. Your breathing stuttered. You didn't dare to look up at the man who wore the armor, staring at his chest as hard as you could manage.

The hand slid beneath your chin, tugging your eyes reluctantly upwards as your shawl slid off of your head. You gasped when you caught sight of his face. The man appeared battered, the sides of his head badly bruised at the temples and cheeks. There were livid contusions that looked suspiciously like large handprints, as if someone had attempted to crush his skull with their bare hands. His left eye was bloodied, laced with spiderwebbed veins and swollen half-shut. The fingers that touched your face were still shaking, his other hand pressed to a dressing that wrapped around his left elbow.

"Not a girl, I see. A woman." The Dornishman said quietly after enduring a moment of your impolite gawking. "And as such, I cannot make this choice for you."

You swallowed hard. You had heard stories about the people of Dorne, about Sunspear and the supposed depravity that took place there. True, you had been hoping to get aboard a ship and go somewhere, anywhere, as far away as you could manage. And with that sailor denying you passage...

The man's deep brown eyes saddened at your silence. "Would you stay here and endure this mistreatment from men like him, simply because it is familiar?"

You shook your head, fleetingly meeting his gaze and opening your mouth. "I have never been on a ship before, m-my lord." You attempted a belated curtsey. You had no idea who this man was, but it was best to err on the side of caution that he was of a higher social ranking than you. Most people were.

He seemed amused if anything, a pained smile crossing his haggard features. "You will soon grow to love it, little dove."

"If it pleases you, my lord." You demurred in a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. Were you trading one cruel man for another? They often hid their true intentions until their audience was gone. But the woman at his side...she didn't seem fearful. "I have naught to offer for my passage but this, my lord." The small purse of coins jingled softly as you extended it to the man in front of you. "I am uncertain how much distance it will buy me, but I am not afraid of hard work."

The man waved it off, cupping your hand around the purse. "Do not trouble yourself with such things, my dove. Our time grows short." 

…

You had been warned of the sea illness, but you appeared to be able to ward off the heaves if you stayed above decks. The fresh salt air stung your cheeks, yet you refused to move from your spot by the railing. You made yourself scarce beside a pile of coiled rope, staying out of the way of the sailors bustling about and watching everything with wide eyes. Your injured hand was still cradled to your chest, but you had no attention for it as you hungrily devoured your surroundings.

King's Landing had been an area tinged gray, dour with gilded suffering. The golden sunsets that would pour through the high windows of your barren room paled in comparison to the sunset you were witnessing now. It was as if the horizon itself was ablaze, a cacophony of reds and oranges that turned the ocean brilliant. You had never seen such a sunset in all your years, and you prayed that it was a good omen. 

The sailors sang as they worked, all of them settling into a rhythm in order to keep everything running smoothly. It was fascinating to watch men pulling lines taut and tacking the mighty vessel into the wind, the ship nimble enough to respond to such rapid adjustments.

"There you are, little dove." Ellaria swayed easily with the motion of the craft, one hand resting on the shrouds to keep her balance. You started in surprise, having not noticed her approach. "You enjoy watching the sailors?"

"They are incredible, my lady." You replied honestly, cocking your head to the side. "I know very little about sailing, but surely their skill is unmatched? You must be immensely proud."

Her laughter was a beautiful noise, just as beautiful as she was. "My lover will be pleased to hear such flattery from your lips! He takes great delight in sailing. Now come with me, flattering dove. We must have the healer tend to your hand." 

You shakily climbed upright, gripping the bannister with your good hand as if your life depended on it. The journey back to the elaborate cabin was fraught with peril for you, and you envied Ellaria's gauzy, simplistic garb every time your heavy skirts got caught on the various cleats and belaying pins. 

Ellaria opened the cabin door and ushered you into the darker environment, tutting between her teeth. "Lover, you should not be upright." She scolded.

The wounded man (now heavily bandaged), shot her a lazy smile from his place at a desk, quill resting on a half-used sheet of vellum. "I know, Ellaria. She tried her best to tell me so as well."

An older woman (the healer, judging from her no-nonsense expression) rolled her eyes and dusted off her hands, approaching you rapidly. You flinched back and she slowed, her gaze flicking to Ellaria in question.

"We encountered this sweet dove on the docks. It is her hand, Ael." Ellaria said quietly, taking your arm. "Come, sit. Ael will not harm you."

You were settled onto a soft cushion and the healer slid your hand into her own, her touch light and careful while she unwrapped your bruised fingers. "How?" She asked, her voice just as quiet as Ellaria's.

You squeezed your eyes shut against the memory, biting your lip. "It was an accident, I didn't mean...I upset him."

"Him?" The man asked, leaning forward and then grimacing in pain. "That man on the docks?"

"N-No, my master. I am...well, I suppose I was, a-a helpmate of sorts. Shield-maiden. I...helped him to don and doff his armor, and I," you hesitated, "well, did whatever was asked of me."

Ellaria made a noise in her throat. "So what crime did you commit, to earn such punishment that would render you useless for your primary task?"

"I...I broke two of his fingers." You extended your uninjured hand in a gesture to allay concern. "I did not mean to! It was an a-accident, he had a trial to prepare for today with a fearsome opponent. His mind was elsewhere, and when I went to slide his gauntlet on-"

"What was your master's name, little dove?" The man interrupted you, his expression thoughtful. 

"His name is Ser Gregor Clegane, my lord. An enormous man who has been dubbed The Mountain." 

"You mentioned a fearsome opponent. But with a master such as that, who was this fearsome opponent?" 

"A prince of Dorne, my lord, one of your own! Can you even imagine?" You sighed dreamily, vaguely aware that Ael was giving you an odd look. She probably thought you childish, still swooning over faceless royalty. "I was told that he was an immensely fierce and clever man, though not in such forgiving language." Then, forgetting your place, you muttered, "I hope that he roundly trounced Ser Clegane."

The man burst out laughing, but winced and held his jaw as Ael fixed him a stern glare. You were certain your confusion was quite bare on your face. "Apologies, I do not laugh at your misfortune, little dove. Rather, at the providence of it all." He explained, still chuckling. "You are to thank for his terrible temper and sloppy work at the trial, then?"

"Oh, you witnessed the duel? What happened?" You asked excitedly, rocking on your seat in anticipation. 

"Oberyn, stop teasing." Ellaria murmured, sounding almost like she was chiding him. 

Oberyn. 

Your heart leaped into your throat as the man tossed you a pained smirk, moving to the pile of cushions and blankets on the floor. "Y...You? You are-?" Your voice failed you.

"Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, a fierce and clever man among many other virtues?" He drawled, looking like the cat that ate the canary as he gingerly reclined on his soft throne. "None other than, sweet dove."

"They are so deliciously genuine, lover." Ellaria crooned to him while you felt your skin flush hot with embarrassment. "They had nothing but lovely things to say about your crew, and now this? Such courtesy."

"Truly?" Oberyn (Prince Oberyn! your mind shrieked in horror) asked, his tone bordering on surprised. "And all of that, without even knowing who you spoke to? Rare courtesy indeed." 

"I...I am so sorry if I've offended you, your highness." You whispered, "I know there is no excuse for my ignorance."

"Nonsense! I owe you a debt, it seems!" Oberyn replied cheerily. You dared to look up, finding him with a hand pressed to the side of his well-bandaged jaw. "Ser Gregor sought to crush my skull after I had run him through. Clearly, it is thanks to you that he could not maintain his grip and I escaped with this colorful bruising."

"So you killed him?" You asked, knowing full-well that the hope in your voice was unbecoming.

"If he is not dead yet, he will be soon." Oberyn seemed outrageously pleased with himself, though his eyes were strangely melancholy. "Justice has been served. I only wish that I could have stayed to witness him breathe his filthy last, but it seemed that the royal family had other plans regarding the outcome of the trial. I thought it better to take my leave before they decided to finish what Ser Gregor began."

You ducked your face into your elbow, trying to quickly hide your tears. Ellaria caught your chin though, her confusion evident. "Why do you weep, little dove?"

"P-Please forgive my loss of composure! I w-weep for myself, my lady." You hiccupped, the words spilling out of you. "I suffered much by the hand of that man. To know that Ser Clegane is in agony or already perished…it feels like a precious gift, yet I should take no joy in the knowledge. To luxuriate in his demise makes me no better than him."

"You are alive and he is not. Luxuriate in that, if you will not give yourself the satisfaction of indulging in vicarious revenge." Oberyn murmured, his tone troubled. "Did he shame you, little dove?" 

You raised your eyes to his and he must have seen the truth there, even though you said softly that you had heard of him doing far worse than what had ever been done to you. "I believe I was one of the luckier ones, your highness."

The prince cursed under his breath, rubbing his temples. "I will be overjoyed to be back in Dorne once again. King's Landing is fraught with madness. A wonder that it still fills me with fury! I am half-dead." He muttered. 

"Indeed you are, lover. You ought to be resting." Ellaria chastised him, her tone fondly concerned.

"Yes, my love. I am immensely weary. But council me before I slumber. What shall I do with this unforeseen ally?" The prince asked, waving a hand in your direction. "They spake so sweetly to me, and I could have been the lowest man in all of Dorne. Such honesty deserves reward."

"Not to mention that without their aid, your head would have been crushed." Ellaria pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "And I would not be able to do this."

"You graciously offered me passage, your highness. That is more than enough-" You began to protest, wincing when Ael tightly bound your fingers together once again. 

Oberyn dismissed your reasoning with naught but a slow flick of his wrist, yawning widely. "Ellaria, the weariness has ensnared me. Do with them what you wish, my love." He mumbled, sinking down into the nest of blankets. Ellaria studied you for a time as you sat silently, letting Ael tend to your hand. You didn't dare to meet her eyes, so frightened that she might view you as defiant. 

"I know you must be used to making yourself small, little dove." She finally spoke softly. "Take heart, the people of Dorne are not so cruel as those you have encountered." Ael had finished wrapping your fingers and Ellaria encircled your wrists, the other woman searching your eyes. "Men use such pretty terms to describe the anguish their counterparts inflict upon us. Shamed, as if you were a naughty child." She shook her head unhappily. "I would promise you your heart's desire, for it is because of you that my beloved still breathes. Anything you wish, you need only ask."

You stared at her dumbly, trying in vain to blink back the fresh tears that rose at her practical words. 

Ellaria tutted, her hand rising to smooth over your tangled hair in a maternal fashion while the tears spilled down your cheeks. "You are exhausted, little dove." She soothed, a gossamer sleeve catching your tears and patting your face dry. "Sleep now. I will ask you in the morning."

...

You woke to someone gently brushing your hair, the groan of timber and faint sounds of water all around you. Certain that you were dreaming, you hummed and shifted your weight, snuggling a little closer to the lap your head rested in.

"Dove, are you awake?" Ellaria. You nodded sleepily, trying to remember who that name belonged to. "I had hoped to be done before you woke." She sighed. "Try to stay still for me, sweet. I will be finished in a few moments." 

As you felt her begin to plait your hair, your mind slowly seemed to shake off the warm haze of sleep. The Mountain. Your hand. Prince Oberyn--

Gods, Prince Oberyn! You flinched, wide awake now. Ellaria patted the top of your head, obviously satisfied with her handiwork. "There! Beautiful." She said decisively. "You slept so soundly, my little dove! You needed the rest, I imagine."

"My lady…" Right back to where you had started, you nearly wept all over again. Your life had been devoid of tenderness for so long, cut off from any warmth or care. Now here was a small smattering, a ray of sunlight through the clouds, and you were utterly in a shambles. "I apologize for my turbulent emotions." You breathed. "I am at a loss."

"Hush, little dove." The woman murmured, a finger tucking beneath your chin to tilt your face up. "You are so pensive! I would see you smile. Breakfast, perhaps?"

You hesitated, your stomach knotting uncertainly. "I do not know if I will be able to, my lady. The ship...I am unused to its motion." 

Ellaria smiled at you, a genuine, soft smile that wrapped around your soul like a secret. "We shall eat above decks, my dove. Something light, to baby that green belly of yours."

Gods, was she teasing you? You had no idea what to think as she got to her feet and extended a hand to you. The light played across her golden skin when she helped you rise, even more of her body on display in today's garb. You felt like a drab sparrow beside a brilliant goldfinch, trying vainly to smooth the wrinkles out of your skirts as you followed behind her.

The sky was blue overhead, the sun just slightly above the horizon. It was still early, though normally you would be going to sleep at this hour.

Your shudder had nothing to do with the brisk sea wind.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Ellaria said gladly, tilting her head at you. Her brown eyes fairly danced with good humor, like she was sharing a joke. 

Your heart clenched in your chest and you swallowed roughly. When you agreed with her, you were unsure of whether you spoke of the sky or the woman beside you. 

After a light breakfast, Ellaria left you to your own devices. You continued to watch the sailors with awe, thankful that they all seemed perfectly content to ignore you.

It did not take long for the prince to grow bored in his confinement, his complaints growing louder and louder until he emerged onto the deck. Half-dressed, Ellaria following after him bearing a light golden wrapper, Oberyn stalked to the railing and stared moodily across the water at the other ship that had departed alongside his at King's Landing. 

"Had I not promised Cersei that I would bring that miserable pile of driftwood to her child, I would scuttle the whole affair." He muttered, stroking his facial hair. Ellaria attempted to drape the dressing gown around him, beckoning for you to come assist her. "Even after all the harm she's done, I will not cause undue grief to...ah, my dove!" The sight of you seemed to shake him from his doleful contemplation, and you couldn't help your flush when the prince idly brushed his fingers over your cheek after you had succeeded in helping Ellaria. "Have you decided what you might ask of me, little dove?" Inhaling a bracing gulp of air, you nodded. The prince inclined his head, tucking Ellaria into his side and then raising his eyebrows at you in silent query. 

"I ask...I-I ask two things of you, your highness." You winced when your voice squeaked nervously. "First, I humbly request that you hear me until the end. What I will ask...I know that it is laughable." The prince frowned, but nodded. "I was trained for much of my years in the manner of a soldier, as my mother bore my father no sons. That is how Gregor found me." You steeled yourself. "I would like to continue my tutelage and, once I have become a full-fledged warrior, I would ask to join your soldiers and fight under the flag of Martell."

"Why...Why would you ask for that?" Oberyn queried, his tone one of immense confusion. Ellaria looked bewildered as well.

"After everything that has...happened, to me, everything that has been done to me, I am no longer fit to marry." You explained, doing your best to be ginger with your speech. "Yet, I would serve the man who slew Gregor with my very life. All I can ask for is the chance."

The prince lifted his hand, laying it across the back of your neck and tugging you to lean close. He pressed his forehead to your own, his eyes searching yours. "Not a dove at all." He murmured finally. "A falcon. You will have your wish and one better, my falcon. I will not see you amongst the rank and file of soldiers in my brother's army. You shall train as a knight." His hand clapped your shoulder warmly. "A knight of House Martell. It will be difficult! But I know you would not expect ease after the life you have endured." He glanced at Ellaria. "What say you, my love?"

Ellaria's smile was soft and a bit sad. She cupped your face, touching her forehead to your own as well. "Elia would have loved the spirit of this one."

Elia Martell. You had heard the stories, of course, but the depth of the anguish you saw in Oberyn's gaze took your breath away. 

The prince nodded sorrowfully after a moment, kissing Ellaria's knuckles. "Aye, she would have. But she can rest easy now, my love, and that is all that matters."

…

"Again!" The battlemaster shouted, his hand extended to direct. "First form!"

You had flourished under the watchful eye of the head warriors of House Martell, training alongside several of Oberyn's own daughters. The strength you had built through your prior training with heavy plate and shield made you unexpectedly hardy, especially when clad in the much lighter leather and chain mail that the Dornish warriors wore. 

You were able to wield a pike on foot with relative ease, and Oberyn saw to it personally that you were granted a larger shield. "If you are to be drawing the enemy's attention, I would rather you are shielded…"

You assumed the first stance, your form wavering ever so slightly when Oberyn and Ellaria emerged from a nearby hallway to observe the training. 

The prince was well on the mend from his grisly ordeal with Gregor, only bearing a slight tenderness in his left elbow during poor weather. He was a truly lucky man. Ellaria was in good spirits this afternoon, her smile radiant as she waved to you. You bowed, panting a little from the exertion of your training. The battlemaster dismissed you with a grin, overused to such royal interruptions. 

Oberyn's younger daughters flung themselves at you in their typical fashion the second they were permitted, all of them piling onto you in an effort to take you to the ground. You struggled valiantly against the assault as Oberyn laughed, the man wading into the mass of bodies after a moment to pluck Loreza from your back. "Such violence from my beautiful children! You are your mother's daughters." He teased with a broad smile, rubbing his nose against Loreza's. 

Dorea danced around her mother, tugging at her hands. "May we go to the water gardens, mama?" She asked, pausing to meticulously straighten her petite bracers. Dorea took the training very seriously. 

Ellaria nodded, patting her on the head. "Alright my little snakes, rise from the sand and go play." She urged, "You have all done so well in your training today! I am very proud." Elia rolled her eyes, shaking her head when Obella and Dorea shrieked their delight. She was, of course, too old to let such maternal praise cloud her impressions of how her training had actually gone. 

You wished you didn't light up as bright as the children whenever the prince and his paramour praised them. You knew that it was foolish. 

"We are both impressed with your progress. It has only been five months and yet, you fight as if you were of Dorne yourself." Oberyn observed after his children had departed, his hand resting at the small of Ellaria's back. 

You went hot at the praise, bowing and stammering, "a-all due to your faith in me, your highness!"

"How many times must I insist that you simply call me Oberyn?" He asked, the grin he shot you making your knees weak. "After all, unwittingly or not, we conspired together as equals!"

"Do not tease her so, lover!" Ellaria chided him. "We had something to tell her, remember?"

"Apologies, my love." Oberyn cleared his throat, and his face grew incredibly serious. "My falcon, we come bearing wonderful news. My paramour is pregnant once again." He announced, "A new Sand Snake will be born in but six months time."

You gaped at him, then at Ellaria, who was beaming. "Oh, that is...good?" You half-questioned. True, the people of Dorne had radically different viewpoints from the rest of the world when it came to bastards, carnal acts and indeed, their sexuality in general. You were still adjusting to such broad views.

Ellaria nodded, thankfully not visibly offended by your hesitation. "In Dorne, children are a treasured blessing, not the death knell that so many seem to see them as." She rested her hands on the nearly imperceptible swell of her belly. "Oberyn wished to ask you to become my sworn knight, to defend me from such trials that pregnancy brings." Her eyes were dancing again; she was joking with you. 

You chuckled nervously, dusting the knees of your breeches off. "I fear I would do more harm than good in that department, my lady." Despite her insistence that she was but a bastard, you always referred to her as 'my lady', just as you always referred to Oberyn by archaic honorifics. 

"Are you greatly concerned with the skirmish I am sending you to, my falcon?" Oberyn asked bluntly. 

You shook your head. "Not at all, your highness. I have faith in my skill, as well as the competence of Prince Doran's military."

"I will be there as well, though only advising in my elder brother's stead." Oberyn sighed wistfully. "You must be twice as fierce on the battlefield, my falcon! Fill my place in the ranks."

"I must be at least six times as fierce if I were to try and match you, your highness!" You protested.

"The genuine nature of your flattery never ceases to raise my spirits, my falcon! Dorne will need your strength." The prince grinned sharply, "And your ferocity. I assume we can expect great things from you?" He extended his forearm and you clasped it, feeling the coil of muscle that lurked beneath the sleeve of his brocade robe.

"You may depend on me, Prince Oberyn." You replied firmly.

...

It was to be a simple pincer attack, your small battalion held in reserve to strike at the most opportune moment. Everything always seemed so straightforward when in the map room.

Now, in the muddy chaos of the battlefield, you planted your massive tower shield as a rallying point for the foot soldiers and warded off the attacks that poured around it like river water. Cavalry thundered past you into the fray, lances up and proud Martell trappings flapping in the breeze. You struck down Dorne's foes without mercy, attempting to do the absent Oberyn justice.

Until you caught sight of Elia, torn from her horse by a greatsword-wielding warrior. She hit the mud hard, barely rolling out of the way of the man's full swing. He landed a glancing blow on her shoulder and you heard her cry out.

You jerked your shield up out of the ground, terrified beyond measure that she would not hear your voice. You gathered your legs beneath you to brace for her weight and shouted, "Lady Elia!" Her eyes met yours for a split-second. "Ninth form!" With your shoulder and knee set into the back of your shield, you tilted the metal.

The smaller woman bolted up and onto your slanted shield, then wheeled and sprang off with her arm outstretched to grapple the warrior's neck. The man was floored by the blow, he and Elia tumbling to the ground. You thrust your spear through the offending wrist that still gripped his sword, your razor-sharp weapon piercing the weak point in his armor and pinning his hand to the ground as he screamed. 

"If any man dares to touch a Sand Snake, he shall lose his hand and his life." You seethed, raising and then crushing the edge of your shield down on his throat. Elia stared up at you, hurriedly accepting your hand when you offered it. "Are you badly injured, my lady?" You asked worriedly.

"Just winded." She jibed but winced afterwards, touching the blood blotting her armor at the shoulder. "Damn it, and perhaps my shoulder could use tending."

"Shall I escort you back to the stratagem, my lady?"

"So courteous! A true knight." She teased, laughing. "Of course, deliver me to the hands of my hen of a father, that he might chatter and squawk about how careless I was." She tossed her head haughtily. "Wonderful."

"I meant no disrespect, my lady." Elia had a rebellious streak that may have very well been the entirety of her body. Fiercely capable and cunning beyond measure, this would be a blow to her pride. But you could not very well permit her to venture on wounded and get herself killed in the bargain, so you herded her gently back towards the stratagem tents.

You were both soaked head to toe with the blood and sweat of battle, so Oberyn's gut-wrenching expression of terror upon catching sight of his daughter was to be expected. "Elia!" He cried, striding out of the tent. "Where is the wound? You would not retreat willingly, you are too stubborn."

"Hush, I am well. Your falcon saw to that." Elia retorted, gesturing at your massive shield. "She clove a man's head off with that simply for touching me."

"He did a sight more than touch you, my lady." You replied stiffly, "I merely retaliated."

Oberyn enfolded his daughter in his arms, squeezing her tightly as you stripped your helmet off. "Straight to Ael with you. You have done well." He praised her, "but this shoulder will need to be tended lest you lose feeling in your hand."

After Elia had departed, you dropped to one knee. "Forgive me, your highness. I was not fast enough to keep her from harm."

"Lightning itself is not fast enough to keep that one from being wherever she wants." Oberyn replied dryly, clapping your shoulder and urging you to stand. "You brought her to me, a task which I'm certain she did not make simple. You are…" he trailed off, staring at you. Since you had removed your helmet, you assumed you must have some mud on your face. Why else would he look at you as though he had never seen you before? Perhaps the sun was in his eyes, or maybe your hair was much more hopeless than usual.

You quickly scrubbed at your cheeks, but Oberyn remained silent. "Prince Oberyn?" You queried tentatively.

"You are capable." He managed to finish his thought after several more moments. His voice was strangely faint. "Thank you for returning her hale and whole to me."

"Are you well, your highness?"

"Quite well. Astonishingly so, given the circumstances."

...

You were knighted formally as Ser Shieldove of House Martell on the following new moon. Oberyn winked at you in playful insinuation when you and several other new knights knelt before his brother to be anointed with seven oils, nearly causing you to embarrass yourself by laughing. The younger prince had become markedly more flirtatious towards you after the skirmish, his teasing bold even for his standards. You had dismissed it though, certain that he was merely expressing his gratitude with some flattering attention directed your way.

At the feast that followed, Oberyn and Ellaria flanked you instead of taking up their usual position at the head of the table with Prince Doran. Ellaria in particular was nearly hanging off your arm as the both of them fed you from their own trenchers. His tender touch while he plied you with fruits and the brush of the pads of her fingers against your lips made your throat burn with an odd emotion that you dared not examine. The flavorful dolmas hit your tongue and turned to ash in the wake of Ellaria's beautiful smile and Oberyn's jests.

The prince was regaling anyone who would listen with the thrilling (and greatly exaggerated) tale of you and Elia in the skirmish. "-my daughter, Elia Sand, though wounded, fought valiantly against a warrior seven times her size. Ser Shieldove, thinking quickly as she always does-"

"That is a falsehood, your highness." You protested, making Oberyn and his audience laugh. "I was in a panic. I was so fearful I would not reach her in time."

"What is a skirmish if not an opportunity to embellish?" The prince teased. "As I was saying, Ser Shieldove utilized one of the many tactics she learned in her knightly training…" While Oberyn prattled on, you felt his hand rest idly on your leg. You barely kept from leaping out of your skin when he gripped down a little tighter, his fingers rubbing circles through the gossamer of your gown and the fabric of your hosiery.

"More wine?" Ellaria asked sweetly, refilling your goblet before you even had the chance to nod. 

"Thank you, my lady." You cocked your head to the side. "Are you well? I hope the babe does not grieve you."

Her lovely laughter, combined with the hypnotic press and drag of Oberyn's fingers, made you wish that you could stay where you were forever. "I have done this four times before, my falcon. Or should I say, Ser Shieldove?" She chuckled. "I am prepared for whatever discomfort this little one sees fit to inflict upon me."

You smiled at her, stating sincerely, "I am in awe of you, Lady Ellaria." 

"Of me? Whatever for?" She asked in surprise. 

"Your willingness to bear children. It is...I do not know if I would ever have the strength for such an endeavor." You admitted softly, leaning in a little. "Your joy is pure and rare, unlike anything I have ever witnessed. You are practically aglow. It makes my heart ache and sing all at once, to see you so happy."

Ellaria took your hands in her own, clasping them to her heart. "Ser Shieldove, your flattery has not lost its edge." She murmured, her eyes bright. "Though I know your duties may take you elsewhere, when you have a moment of respite, I...would be more than willing to have one of my midwives explain certain things to you. I understand that fear of the unknown keeps many in the darkness."

Your heart buckled in your chest, hope and terror at war with one another. "I know not whether I...that is, I am uncertain if I am able, Lady Ellaria." You replied in a hushed tone. 

Ellaria nodded, her expression saddened. "I know, sweet dove." After a moment, she rose to her feet. "Oberyn, lover, will you accompany Ser Shieldove and myself to the water gardens?" 

The prince immediately rose and you floundered to do the same, caught off-guard by the sudden request. "Of course, my love." Oberyn's tone was light, but you couldn't shake the notion that he had been waiting for her to say something.

His hand stayed on the small of her back the entire stroll to the gardens, and you found yourself envious of those fingers, envious of her skin. To know such gentle touch, to be able to touch so gently…

During the day the pools were alive with the sound of children of all ages, laughing and splashing about in the refreshing waters. But here and now, the only sounds were the wind stirring the water's surface and the low, inquisitive calls of the bullfrogs. Ellaria settled onto a bench, patting the stone beside her after a moment. You sank down in an unwieldy mass of delicate fabrics, longing for your armor. The dress was beautiful, but it drew so much attention.

"Speak to us, sweet dove." Ellaria implored, taking your hands in her own again. "We would know what troubles you in regards to these delicate matters, without fear of judgement or embarrassment." 

Oberyn cleared his throat, large hands framing Ellaria's shoulders. "The merrymaking of the evening cannot erase the furrow of contemplation from your brow, my falcon." 

You hesitated, staring down at Ellaria's hands wrapped around your own. Her fingers were slender, delicate. "I see the two of you, how tender you are with one another and I wonder if...I wonder whether I might ever find such companionship." You shrugged helplessly. "I am unskilled in these matters. Gregor was...the only one. I do not know if I could ever subject myself to...if I could ever…" You trailed off, biting your lip.

Oberyn muttered an oath under his breath and then quickly apologized, continuing on to say, "Brave, fierce falcon. You were dealt a terrible wound the day that monster stole you away. I had wondered why you did not accept the propositions offered to you by many of the other knights, but I merely assumed it was a difference of our cultures." 

You shook your head shyly. "No, your highness. I find their attentions flattering, yet frightening for this very reason." You were dealt a terrible wound. Oberyn regarding it as such, instead of simply as a normal occurrence for a woman to overcome, was strangely heartening. "Perhaps the wound lingers, festers beneath my skin. Perhaps I shall never be gentle again, and never know myself what such gentleness feels like." You thought aloud, voicing your worst fears. "Perhaps my life will be nothing but roughness and the whirling tumult of battle, my only chance thieved away from me."

"Oh, my sweet dove." Ellaria sounded distraught and you turned your attention to her, surprised when you saw her weeping. Her hands cupped your jaw, tugging you close enough to rest your forehead against her own. "You have such an immense capacity for love, daughter-defender. My heart breaks at the thought of you locking yourself away out of fear." 

"My lady…" Tears welled up in your own eyes and you tried to wipe them away hastily.

Oberyn shifted to the side, his arms wrapped loosely around both you and his paramour. "Do you watch us often, my dove?" He asked quietly. "Does it bring you peace to see how we exist together and with others, as easily as rising in the morning?"

Your throat ached with your tears. "The way that you touch her, your highness-"

"My body was designed solely for the pleasure of my lovers, sweet dove." Oberyn informed you, his deep brown eyes unbearably soft in the dim light of the lanterns. "It is a weapon on the battlefield, but never in the bedroom. Even if I come at my lovers with passion, there is not and should not be fear."

"I am a knight of House Martell, and yet I cringe at something so mundane!" You tried to jest, tried to smile.

"Many a warrior is thrown from a horse once and refuses to ever ride again." Oberyn pointed out, his hand absently stroking over your hair in a calming motion. "If an action has only ever caused you agony, you learn to avoid it." Ellaria tugged at Oberyn's sleeve, whispering in his ear when he bent lower. The prince smiled after a moment, nodding. "Of course. Whatever you like, my love." He agreed.

"Sweet dove, at some point in the future I would like to invite you to witness us in our bed chamber," said Ellaria, the words from her mouth damning and sweet as honey. "We are comfortable with an audience and multiple partners, as you are well aware. We would be more than happy to display the way certain acts ought to be performed." She laughed after a moment. "Truly, if I get much larger I may have no recourse but to ask for assistance when my cravings grow too raw!"

You swallowed, then inhaled raggedly. How long were you planning on languishing in this manner? Ignoring your desires out of fear and anxiety over what had transpired? Though Oberyn had assuaged your feelings of inadequacy, you no longer wanted to be the warrior thrown from your horse. You were a knight of House Martell, in soul and now in title. "I would be honored to witness such a thing, my lady." You croaked out, wincing and clearing your throat awkwardly. 

Oberyn's smile was a fond one, the man placing a kiss on his paramour's forehead. "Never fear, falcon. We shall not push you further than you can go."

…

Some weeks later, the battlemaster woke you out of a sound sleep, his tone one of long suffering. "Prince Oberyn seeks your council, Ser Shieldove. He bade you wear your armor, but bring no weapons."

Your mind whirled. Had something happened? Gods, Ellaria-

You weren't certain if you had ever donned your armor faster. It was scarcely ten minutes before you were striding through the airy halls, your tunic rustling beneath your light armor and mail. No weapons, he had said. What manner of exercise could this possibly be?

The prince flung open the doors of his chambers when you approached, his expression tight yet grateful. "I apologize for rousing you at such a late hour, my falcon." 

You dropped to a knee in typical salute. "What has transpired, Prince Oberyn?"

"Ellaria believed that tonight would be a good night for you to...witness. That being said, she wished for your assistance." The man said delicately. "My love is--ah, how to say this without being crass. She is swollen with child, and yet she craves a certain position." Oberyn raised his eyes to your own. "She reasoned that your strength would be sufficient to keep her balance while she indulges."

Your mouth went dry. "M-My strength?" You stammered. He nodded, studying you intently. His heavy gaze alone had you smoldering, had you nodding without thinking twice. He gestured you onwards into their private chambers, closing the doors after you.

Ellaria, her form barely concealed by the thin curtains of their bed, called your name so sweetly. Like a sinner to judgement you crept close, eyes averted from her nudity. "My dove, there is no shame here." She crooned, one finger beneath your chin urging your attentions to her body. Her kiss to your forehead was gentle, her heavy breasts pressed against your armor with her closeness. 

"Lady Ellaria." you breathed, wanting more than anything to greedily embrace her in your arms, shield her from the world. No one deserved to even look at her, no one--

Except Oberyn, of course. The prince was leaning easily against one of the banisters, one ankle tucked over the other while he observed his paramour with a blissful expression. Only Oberyn. Your heart ached, full enough to burst with your unspoken affection for the prince and his beloved. 

"The prince said you requested my presence, my lady?"

"I want you to see us, my dove." Ellaria said simply. "I may require your assistance, but until then…" She beckoned Oberyn closer and did not finish her sentence. 

The prince cupped her face and kissed her passionately, his smile curved against her lips. Once he was done, however, he turned to you. The bristle of his mustache met your forehead, grazing the skin teasingly before he kissed it. "A kiss from a prince. Let us hope you do not turn into a frog!" He said with a grin.

Ellaria's fingers kneaded at his light dressing gown, spurring him to peel and discard the garment. "Come, Ser Shieldove. Sit on the side of the bed and watch us." She implored.

"Are you certain, my lady?" You asked, hesitation plain in your voice even as your fingers twined greedily into their rich bedspread. "It is not...distracting that I am here?"

"Far from it." Oberyn grunted, chucking you under the chin. "It is a rare treat, to have my devastating falcon in the same bed as my lovely paramour. I will not involve you beyond function, of course, not without your consent. You are the audience tonight, and Ellaria wishes to show you the tender acts I inflict upon her."

You did not trust your voice to reply. You knew logically that there was no possibility of Oberyn causing her harm. You watched his hands, the shift of the candlelight shadows playing across the olive skin. Oberyn was languid in nearly every aspect of his life aside from training and battle, so it was no great shock that he was slow in his approach as well. 

He trailed a single finger down between Ellaria's bare breasts, over the swell of her stomach. Your hands fisted tight enough to ache in the bedspread when Ellaria crooned to him, the sunset-hued fabric wrinkling in your grasp. You were entranced, enthralled as surely as if you had been under some spell. 

"Lover, please…" Ellaria begged, and oh! Her voice was the sweetest music, a wine heady and luxuriant. How did Oberyn resist her? How did he temper his longing, when all you wanted to do upon hearing her ask once was fall to pieces?

"She knows I will satisfy her." Oberyn said softly, as though he had read your thoughts. He lowered his mouth to her breast and her fingers found his hair, cradling him close. His hand wandered lower and lower, seeking out the wetness that had built between her thighs. 

Your gorget threatened to choke you when you swallowed convulsively at Ellaria's trembling sob of pleasure, the prince shooting you a smirk from his prime seating.

"I think our falcon has taken a shine to your mewling, my love." He informed Ellaria quietly. His hand spread her wide, fingers lewdly displaying her plush entrance slick and pink, delicious--you caught yourself leaning in and quickly jerked upright. 

Ellaria noticed your interest, if her moan was any indicator. One hand left Oberyn's hair and reached out over the blankets to you, fingers extended as far as they could go. She fell just shy inches from your arm, blindly fumbling. 

Oberyn carefully scooped her hand back up, kissing her knuckles. "We do not touch her, my love." He reminded her. "Until you need her help to take me, and even then. Our falcon, our dove, she is a warrior, not a plaything." He glanced over at you, his expression mischievous. "It is enough that she wishes to touch you already, my love." His fingers plunged into her cunt and gods, she was wet enough to hear. 

Your thighs clenched and you felt shameful, like an intruder, but Oberyn hummed as if to draw your averted gaze to where his fingers plundered her slick folds. 

"She is much more sensitive when she is bearing." He sounded a little breathless, his dark eyes nearly black in the dimmed lighting. "I can wring two or three from her with ease, just my fingers. No pain."

"Two or three?" You echoed him in doubt, your voice rasping in your throat when Ellaria's back arched off the bed. She cried out and Oberyn moaned with her, his own enthusiasm evident in the way he claimed her mouth with his. She was beautiful, skin flushed and damp with sweat, and he was so gentle with her.

"I need you now, lover. I cannot wait, please, please-" Ellaria implored against his lips, and the tender way he soothed her hair back from her forehead made your chest ache. "I have missed you beneath me, my sweet Oberyn."

"And I have missed you, my divine Ellaria." Oberyn helped her kneel, then gestured you closer. "If you wrap your arms around her midsection--"

"Is that safe?" You interrupted warily, concern destroying your propriety. Oberyn just chuckled, rolling off of the bed to divest himself of his pants. You fought the urge to bury your face in Ellaria's neck out of embarrassment.

"Sweet dove," Ellaria's hand cupped your burning cheek. "If this is not to your liking…"

"Of course it--I mean, if-if I...what if I do something wrong? What if I hurt you?" You mumbled. "Men act as though we are unreasonably delicate for expecting an ounce of caution, yet we endure so much at their whim."

Ellaria interlaced her fingers with your own, bringing your palms to her defined hips. "I will not break, my gentle dove." She stated, a defiant toss of her head serving to drive her words home. She was the devoted paramour of Prince Oberyn, after all! Already mother to four of his children, soon to be five. 

Oberyn knelt on the bed and you couldn't help the way your eyes devoured him. His hair tousled, mouth still red from hungry kisses, lean body on full display. The member that hung between his legs had your breath hitching with a mixture of vague apprehension and arousal, how-

You tore your eyes away, tucking your nose in the thick waves of Ellaria's hair as your thighs flexed yet again. She smelled of comfort, of citrus and the spiced strongwine from their evening meal. Ellaria sighed, relaxing her weight back into your arms. "You are so warm, sweet dove."

Oberyn's hand stroked your cheek and you were unable to conceal your flinch. "Do not fear me, gentle dove. I would never harm in the bedroom; here, I am no longer the Red Viper." His tone was grave, and you saw sorrow in his eyes when you dared to look up. "I am simply a man hopelessly in love." His hands covered your own, tightening your grip on Ellaria's hips. "Now, help my paramour to rend me as she sees fit."

You did as you were asked, feeling the anticipatory tremor that ran through Ellaria's body. She wanted him. She yearned for him, canting her hips as far as she could to draw him close. But Oberyn was thorough, coaxing her thighs apart inch by inch and laving her hot skin with thousands upon thousands of adoring kisses. She was on the verge of collapse before he even deigned to lay down beneath her, and now you understood your place in their endeavor. 

She sank down onto his cock without hesitation, a breathless whine of delight leaving her lips while her head lolled back against your shoulder. Oberyn's cry in response was low, wanting, the prince's chest heaving as he thrust up into her. "Ellaria, you beautiful fucking woman." He seethed through his teeth, "Help her take me, my falcon, hold her steady while she tears me apart."

"Oberyn!" Ellaria sobbed, clinging to your arms while he urged her hips forward and back to ride his cock.

"If she wishes for another child, she entices me by laying on her stomach and beckoning me near." Oberyn informed you lazily between arching his hips up to meet his paramour. "When she does I am but her willing stud horse, lost to breed. Her hips fit perfectly in my hands and she begs me so sweetly for another babe, another little one to bring to her breast and nourish. My Ellaria, my beautiful, precious Ellaria." 

Oberyn reached up, his eyes so warm and fond as he cradled Ellaria's face in his large palms. You buried your face in Ellaria's hair again, not wanting either of them to notice the tears threatening to spill over. 

Ellaria nuzzled against his fingers, coaxing a ragged groan out of Oberyn. "Lover, you always know what to do to make my body sing for you." She breathed, planting her hands on his chest and circling her hips. Oberyn swore and gritted his teeth, his head falling back against the pillows. "But I would much rather you sing for me instead."

The prince's voice broke wordlessly in his throat, the noise sharp with longing. Your eyes widened and your whole body tensed at the sound, warmth coating the worn trews between your legs. What…? You had never experienced such a rapid reaction, and all it had been was a simple groan! Your grip on Ellaria tightened unconsciously and she moaned your name, her body pushing back against your armored chest as she rose up onto her knees. 

Oberyn fairly growled at her, one hand clutching at her thigh while the other delved between her legs. She cried out and you could feel her body spasm when he found her center, hips undulating hard to grind herself against his palm. "Come for me, my love, drench me." Oberyn encouraged softly. "Tear my seed from my body, milk me with that divine cunt of yours."

His heated words made you feel like your heart would beat out of your chest. Ellaria tilted her face into your neck, her panting, breathy cries whispering over your skin and making you wish more than anything that you were the one causing them-

She went taut in your hold and you watched Oberyn watch her come with the same blissful expression on his face that he had sported earlier. It was as if his own release was an afterthought, the prince humming to echo Ellaria's incoherent whimpering while he shifted his hips restlessly beneath her. "Keep gripping me, my love, keep-" Oberyn bucked up hard, hands covering your own on her hips to keep her still when he buried himself in her again. His shoulders tensed, thighs trembling as he came with a shuddering gasp of her name. 

Gods, you wished it was your name he spoke with such passion!

Ellaria nearly collapsed, your arms around her the only thing keeping her upright. "I have you." You breathed, cradling her back against your chest. "I have you."

The other woman blinked up at you sleepily, one shaking hand raising to stroke over your hair. "Thank you, Ser Shieldove." She whispered. Oberyn clapped her thigh, carefully tilting her hips and closing her legs once he slipped out from beneath her. 

"Steady, I need to fetch a cloth." He instructed you, nearly staggering when he rose from the bed. "Gods, Ellaria, you will make me swoon one of these days." Oberyn continued, half-laughing and shaking his head. He wrapped his light robe back around his body, looping the belt once and then abandoning it.

You hid your face at the sight of him stretching languidly, his lithe and golden form barely covered by the haphazardly-tied dressing gown. "You can look at him, you know." Ellaria sighed in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "He loves being observed. He preens." She confided, chuckling softly. 

"What are you telling her, my love?" Oberyn called from the washbasin, shooting her a suspicious glance.

"Nothing, lover." Ellaria winked up at you, relaxing into your arms a bit more. "Nothing at all."

"Now, my falcon. Is it your turn?" Oberyn asked conversationally while he tenderly bathed Ellaria's intimate area. The other woman hadn't stopped squirming, trembling beneath his careful ministrations even as she clung to you. 

Panic seized your body at the idea of being naked, being vulnerable, exposed, and despite the hard work the both of them had done, you found yourself shaking your head violently. 

Oberyn simply laughed, dismissing his own words as a jest and easily soothing your terror. 

...

When you returned to your quarters later that evening, you could not remove your armor fast enough. Clad in only your underthings, you slumped into the chair beside your bed and put your head in your hands. 

I can wring two or three from her with ease, just my fingers. No pain.

Ellaria's wanton cries rang softly in your ears. The way she had sought him out with her body, sought to be cherished, claimed-

You are so warm, sweet dove.

You flushed hot, rubbing frantically at your eyes. Gods, the way the two of them praised each other, praised you...it hurt, it made your body throb. You bit back a sound of pain, your eyes watering. To be loved by someone, to have their love in return...well, that is what all the songs and stories of man were about! 

Yet here you sat on the outskirts of a camp you dared not approach, gazing at the raging bonfire of someone else's affection. 

And you envied, with a ferocity that made your jaw ache from how tight you clenched it.

Envied Oberyn, for being a prince, being free to do as he wished, being able to trace secret patterns over Ellaria's skin as often as he pleased. Envied Ellaria, for being brave, being so effortlessly sensual, being able to bring Oberyn to heights of ecstasy that you could not even dream of.

You felt like a child that had been happily playing pretend, only to have a bucket of cold water thrown on you.

Your fingers dug into your thighs, rubbing over the scarring there. No, you would never know, would you? You would never know the true depth of another's love. You were not destined for such things, and you had been foolish to grasp for them in the first place.

You had been greedy, overeager to voyeur on the prince and his paramour due to your deep admiration of and attraction to the couple. This was hardly behavior befitting a knight of House Martell! You would have to do better in the future, instead of taking advantage of the generosity extended to you in good faith. All Ellaria and Oberyn had wanted to do was help you, and you had turned it into some lewd fantasy. 

You shook your head at your own thoughts, thoroughly disgusted. You would tear down everything good that you ever had, just to delude yourself into believing you could be bedded by a prince of Dorne and his beautiful lady.

Part Two

[sunflowersteves]

loving you is what i do || s.r.

summary ||  you and Steve were normally all giggles and flirty sayings but after a mission went wrong, you wanted nothing to do with that stupid asshole blonde.

prompt || “You don’t control me. You don’t own me.”

author’s note || Congrats on 300 @angelinathebook​! I bet by now it’s more but still, congrats!! This was way longer than I expected sjsjsj. I hope you all enjoy it!

warnings || swearing, angst, fluff, a bit asshole!steve, insecurities, small description of dead/hurt children

Masterlist

Steve ‘stupid head’ Rogers was the utter bane of your existence. It has only been two hours and you already miss his warmth he’d always send your way. He’d softly flirt with you and this certain smile would caress his features any times his eyes would set on you. He’d tease and poke at you but delicate, loving touches would fall onto your hands or thighs that felt like fire on your skin. The two of you would always sit right next to each other during movie nights with bright grins and flustered hands inching towards each other.

You sighed as you hugged your pillow, laying on your bed. A couple of tears had run down your cheeks as you could almost still hear Steve scream that he loved you. However, it was all in the heat of the moment in an argument. He didn’t really mean it, right? You shook your head as you were never really sure. He still kept Peggy’s picture in a locket that was near him at all times. You didn’t necessarily blame him as you know that she was his only connection to his past.

You sniffled and continued to watch your fan move around in circles, staring straight up. You still couldn’t quite believe his words. He had declared those three little words that you have been dying to hear since he melted out of the ice. But your insecurities had still gotten the better of you. Peggy was an amazing, intelligent, and kind person, not to mention a badass person at that. You felt like you couldn’t compare, even though you were just as great.   

You and Steve had just been sent on a mission that Fury strictly made to only track and report. Both of you had a pretty bad habit of engaging when told not to but everyone else was doing other missions. Even though Steve was practically the size of a brick wall, you were the only one’s left that fit the job description. You were assigned to, silently, infiltrate a Hydra ship that contained highly dangerous weapons. There were rumors that Hydra had been planning to steal a bunch of mutants and brainwash them into weapons, which is why Fury made clear it was to only be a track and report mission. You two got onto the quinjet and set it on autopilot, gearing up before arriving.

Eventually, you spotted the large dark blue cargo ship and flipped on the cloaking device so the quinjet would be hidden in case the clouds moved. You then jump into the water, silently hoping your bodies hitting the water with such force wouldn’t be too noisy. You breaststroked your way towards the ship, hands cupping through icy cold water. 

Steve lifts you onto the cargo ship with him not far behind. You then notice two men standing outside on the deck. You grab one of the men from behind and cover his mouth. Immediately, you hit a couple of his pressure points which makes him fall limp to the ground.

Steve silently nods towards you and you see he’s silenced the other guy. You were able to sneak around into the main portion of the boat, feeling the warm air of the air conditioning. Your eyes went wide as you heard soft noises start to become louder and louder. Steve instantly grabbed you and you were stuffed into a small supply closet. 

Your heart was beating too fast, his broad chest pressed softly against yours. Your breathing hitched and your eyes slowly moved up to his face. His head was already down, staring intently at you. You opened your mouth to say something but it quickly closed. Your hands started to move up against his chest and his large hands fit perfectly onto your hips. You leaned in slightly and his eyes were flickering from your eyes to your lips. Your heart was beating right out of your chest and your hands gripped his chest just a bit harder. 

A loud scream made the two of you jump out of your own skin. A flustered expression twisted into his face and the two of you couldn’t bear to look at each other. “Yeah, um, w-we should, uh, go.” He scratched the back of his head. “Y-yeah! Um, yeah we should.” When the coast was clear, you got out of the closet and went searching for a computer to override. 

You walked into the main control area and hurriedly put in a USB to grab any information you could. You were easily able to hack into it as the password wasn’t hard to figure out and you automated it to grab any information you could. Steve stood right behind you, keeping watch on the door. 

You muttered a small “shit” as loud sirens started to sound around the ship, clear Russian poking through the speakers. “Ship has been compromised. Ship has been compromised.” You two take a quick glance, Steve eyes telling you to hurry up and you yelp in glee as it finishes loading all of the documents, taking it out of the computer. You two run out of the control room but your eyes widen as a bunch of Hydra men were waiting with big guns. 

You promptly turn the corner, running as fast as you could right behind Steve until there was a dead end with a steel door. Steve busts it open with ease and you both run inside. Your panting became loud, disrupting the quiet atmosphere. You look around, and a sad whimper escapes your throat.

In the room was a bunch of cages, clearly wired to shock anything that touches the metal bars. In each cage held a small child. Your heart thumped against your chest as you dared to look at some of the children. They had been beaten, bettered, and many were killed. Steve was just about to pull the two of you out of there until you heard crying.

Steve grasped your wrist but you shook your head and inched towards the noise. “Y/n,” he warned but you felt the need to protect this child. You knew what Hydra would do. Hell, Steve knew what they would do to the kid. So leaving them behind wasn’t an option. You slowly walked up to the little girl and crouched in front of her. She sat, curled up in a ball, in the farthest corner of the cell.

You could hear her whimpers but you spoke as softly as you could. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to get you out of here.” The girl was very wary of you at first, not believing a single word you’ve said but then she hears the men trotting up the hall. Steve yells at you to leave but you tried to break the metal bars instead. The little girl stared at you wide-eyed as you screamed at the electric shock the bars were giving you. You were able to break them in pieces, all of the men with very big weapons stood in the middle of the room.

Steve didn’t say a word as the three of you became surrounded. You stand your ground, keeping the girl securely safe right behind you while Steve was groaning at the mess you were all in now. Before you could react, the girl swiftly moves in front of you and freezes all of the men into big ice cubes. Your mouth is agape as their whole bodies were covered in ice, the room becoming slightly colder in temperature.

You all run out of the room and turn the corners of the hallway. Just as you were about to move out of the indoor areas, you were ambushed by two men. They were quick, aiming the gun straight at the little girl. Steve was yelling at the men and charging at them but it seemed like time was slowing. Steve seemed too far away to be able to get them in time. 

You launched your body before the girl, a bullet hitting you right on your shoulder. “No!” Steve screamed, propelling himself on the men. The little girl ran towards you and applied pressure as Steve took care of the men. If you weren’t preoccupied with your bullet wound., you would’ve seen how enraged Steve was.

You were able to get safely back on the quinjet, especially since the little girl had made an ice bridge. Which, you definitely cheered with her. Steve hadn’t muttered a single word. You tried to talk to him but he just sat in the pilot’s seat, staring straight ahead. You sighed and paid your attention to the kid, asking questions the whole ride back while you started to stitch up your wound.

You all eventually got back and landed near the tower. Steve still hadn’t muttered a word but he did help you pack everything up and even guided you off of the quinjet. As you were walking up to the tower, you told some agents to guide her to the medical bay to get her checked out. You were about to follow until Steve roughly grabbed your other arm.

“Steve, what the f-” Steve quickly interrupted you, ferocity lurked between his eyes and his voice boomed through your ears. Your face twisted into concern over his behavior, why would he be so upset? “I cannot believe you. Fury gave us specific orders to track and report.” You sigh, harshly pulling his grip off of your arm. “Steve, she’s just a kid.” He huffed, eyes narrowing towards your figure. “So we have to save every kid from danger all the time?” Your eyebrows furrowed and your head tilted. “I did what I had to do.”

“Did what you had to do? You wouldn’t be hurt if-”

“If what, Steve? I wouldn’t be hurt but I’d let a child die? Did you not see the same things I saw in that prison? She was the only one left. And as far as I’m concerned, I will not just sit there and do nothing when people need help.” There was a long silence, none of you were going to declare another word. Nothing was to be said if you were being honest. You weren’t going to apologize for doing what you thought was right. Steve clicked his tongue, breaking the definite silence. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be on missions anymore. I mean, when I act upon my duties as an agent I’m not reckless and irresponsible.” Steve immediately cringed as the words flew out of his mouth. His expression then turned into a wince as he got a good look at your face. You really wanted to cry at the moment, scream, and yell at the top of your lungs but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

“So let me get this straight… you can stand up for what you believe in, even if that means becoming a war criminal or a but when I do it I’m immature and stupid?” Air seemed to completely escape Steve’s lungs, he just stood there and didn’t say a word. You were right of course. It wasn’t fair for him to ridicule you for something that he does all the time. It’s literally part of his whole Captain America-y presence is to not follow orders. “You don’t control me. You don’t own me. Please, shut your ignorant righteous mouth like your instances are better than mine.”

His mouth just opens and closes, not finding the right words to say. His eyebrows furrowing in the process but in the end, he says nothing. “Un-fucking-believable.” you muttered under your breath and tried to walk past him. His body collides with yours since he immediately stepped in front of you. 

You open your mouth but he quickly beats you to it. “I love you! Don’t you see-” You pushed him off of you, breaking his sentence. You wanted to slap him for saying that. Love? What part of love is getting mad at another for doing what they thought was right? You couldn’t let him speak to you in such a way. There was no absolute way that he loved you, anyway. You then left to go to the medical bay and hadn’t said a word to him since, which happened three days ago.

A soft knock on your door made you jump and you sighed, rolling out of bed, and opening the door. “Look, Tony, I’m not-” Your stopped mid-sentence, shocked by the man that was standing before you. “Steve.” He looked like an absolute mess. Fresh and old tears were scattered across his cheeks, his nose was red and runny, and his beautiful blonde hair was disheveled all over the place. 

“Can I come in? Please?” You sigh, “Am I going to get lectured?” He immediately shakes his head and tells you that he’s not here for that. You sigh once again and crack open the door a bit, letting him know to follow you inside.

The two of you sat on your bed, sniffles sounding across your bedroom. You only wait for Steve to converse, guessing he’s trying to get the courage to speak to you. His head turns a bit towards you before staring straight ahead. 

“You know, I wasn’t lying earlier when I said that I love you. I am so sorry that I haven’t said it sooner… I-I was afraid. I was afraid that you didn’t like me back and that it was my own intuition.” He pauses to stare back at you, seeing as your fiddling with his fingers. You’re nervously biting your lips and a small smile forms onto Steve’s face. It’s always been a habit of yours to fiddle with your fingers and bite your sweet plump lips. You don’t say a word, so he continues.

“I’m so sorry for yelling at you. You’re completely right, I wasn’t fair to judge you for doing what you believe in. Especially because I do that all the time. Seeing you get shot, right before my eyes, frightened the shit out of me.” He chuckled a bit at you widening your eyes from his cursing. “When I saw you, lying on the floor, I-I didn’t know what to do. If I lost you, well I-I-’d…” His voice breaks down and he’s unable to finish his sentence. “It’s not an excuse, I know. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me, y/n.” He places his hand on top of your leg, his palm facing upwards indicating you to hold his hand. He wanted to know if you could forgive him, to at least be friends again.

 Hope starts to fade out of his darling blue eyes as you state at his calloused hand. After a bit, you still don’t meet his hand and his heart sinks, thinking you don’t return his feelings. He starts to lower his hand off your leg but you snapped your head to look at his face. 

“What about Peggy?” Steve gives you the most perplexed look, wondering why the hell you were talking about a woman from his past, and a woman that’s dead no less. “Peggy?” You nod, voice shaking slightly as you spoke. “You always have her locket with you. You always talk about her and it’s like your whole body radiates with happiness. I-I can’t compete with that! You love Peggy, not me.”

“Oh, y/n.” His hand comes up to caress your cheek, thumb moving side to side so delicately. “The only reason why I have her picture is that it ties me to the 30s. I love Peggy yes but I haven’t been in love with her for a very, very long time but I guess I was still in love with what felt like home. But that’s changed. y/n y/l/n, I’m so helplessly in love with you.” His eyes dazzled, sparkled even as he stared intently into your eyes. Like he had everything right in front of him.

A small smile forms onto his face, looking back at the memories with her. “Even when I would visit her, she’d tease me about you. She could see that every time I talked about you, I would just ‘light up like a Christmas tree’ as she put it.” You just stared up at him, trying to look at any sign of doubt. Luckily, you found none.

“I’ll only forgive you if you let me eat the last of your ice cream.” He grins brilliantly at you, leaning in closer towards your figure. You waste no time and press your lips against his, molding together and loving his cherry tasted lips. You start to pull away, smiling brightly at the pout that Steve pulled onto his face. You finally felt at home, just like he did.

“Say no more, doll.”

~~

Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah​ @kitkatd7​ @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​

[wygolvillage]

have you ever wanted to read a rewrite of the plot of castlevania: lament of innocence that replaced leon with sonia (bc lets face it she deserves better), doesnt overuse the dead wife trope, and has LESBIANS IN IT??? NO??? well too bad here it is

fair warning it might be a bit cringe? im hardly a writer lmao

Sonia Belmont was a peasant girl of insignificant origin, however, she found herself at conflict with a nobleman after her dear friend Sara Trantoul was arranged for a marriage with Count Mathias Cronqvist, who lived not far from her village in a remote castle that few dared to visit. Sara, however, did not wish to marry into nobility, let alone marry a man, and Sonia helped her make an escape to another town.

Mathias was furious with jealousy and rage, and pursued Sonia. They did battle, and Sonia was the victor: Count Mathias Cronqvist was dead. However, having killed a man of significant power and renown, Sonia was now wanted for murder, and she opted to hide her identity so as to not arouse suspicion. She tried to convince Sara to leave her side, out of fear that they may be found due to her previous connection to the Count, however Sara refused out of love for Sonia.

Sonia became a vigilante knight, trying to do battle against injustices in the world in whatever way she could. She often would have to take trips across the countryside to pursue those she thought wrongdoers, often other men in positions of authority like the detestable Count who had targeted her dear Sara.

In 1094 she received a letter informing her of a man named Walter Bernhardt who had been kidnapping townsfolk, however when she arrived at his palace she found it empty. In fact, the letter had been a trap, and when she returned to her home she found Sara gone- with signs of a struggle. When she asked around the town where Sara had been taken, all the answers pointed to the dilapidated castle near the village where she and Sara had grown up.

The Count was dead, of course... There was no way he could be behind this. Still, she followed this guidance, and found that the area around the castle was covered in thick trees and darkness, and her hometown was no more, enveloped by a forest of eternal night. Curiously, the castle was no longer in the crumbling state it had been left in, but instead looked as if it had been built the previous day. One man remained in a shop in the forest, someone who Sonia had known years ago before she had killed Mathias: Rinaldo Gandolfi. He recognizes her, and tells her to stay away from such an awful place, and that his whole family was slaughtered by the vampire that lived there. She refuses, stating her intentions to rescue Sara, and Rinaldo acquiesces. However, he does let her know that should she need any goods for her quest, he will provide them. He gives her a whip said to be able to kill vampires.

Rinaldo explains that he spotted the vampire with a large crystal that was the source of the darkness, and that as an alchemist he theorized it was connected to legends of a Crimson Stone that can impart great power to one who pursues a path of evil, and to be wary. He also stated that the crystal was what had restored the castle to its current state.

Sonia enters the castle and finds it infested with horrible monsters. She fights through the mindless horde, but after facing a first boss, a mysterious red headed vampire appears in the room and identifies himself as Walter Bernhardt. He taunts her a bit with an unwinnable boss fight, says she’ll never find Sara and teleports away.

Sonia pursues Walter through the castle’s various areas such as the House of Sacred Remains and Anti-Soul Mysteries Lab, but is ultimately unfruitful in her search, often being led through the mazes only to find traps with terrifying monsters laying in wait. At one point she tries to confront Walter and he drops her into a pit containing the Forgotten One, and has to fight her way out.

Eventually, after completing the castle’s areas, she finds Sara, but finds that she’s too late, and that Sara has been turned into a vampire. Sara laments her fate, terrified that she’s lost her humanity. Sonia escorts her out of the castle to be cared for by Rinaldo, horrified at what Walter has done and furious at him.

She storms through the castle once more, heading for the Throne Room to confront Walter. However, when she defeats him, he reveals that it was not him who turned Sara- it was his master who had orchestrated the whole thing. Walter dies of his wounds soon after, and Sonia wonders who Walter’s master was- though she does not have to wonder for long.

Mathias Cronqvist, revived from the grave as a vampire by the pure evil in his heart, then reveals himself.

“Sonia,” he begins. “I want you to understand that you took everything from me. My life, and the only woman I thought was worthy of my grace.”

“You’re a monster,” Sonia spits in his face. “You stole much more from her than I ever stole from you.”

“I loved her, Sonia, just as you do. Now she and I can be together forevermore, and you will be punished for your sins.”

“How can you claim to love her?! You’ve never loved, and you never will! True love does not drive people to hurt!” Sonia then attacks him.

The ensuing fight is a near-equal match, and Sonia eventually prevails, but is grievously wounded. Just as she thinks it’s over, Mathias pulls out a large red orb from the wall behind the throne, one that Sonia now realizes is the Crimson Orb Rinaldo spoke of. The roof of the castle opens, and the full moon shines upon the glistening orb in his hands. As he does this, the castle begins to crack apart as the crystal had been removed.

“The blood spilt in the village you called home, and the despair all around us... This shall give me strength! Even Death will be at my command!” He announces to the sky, and the orb begins to emit a horrible red light. “After all... the Dark Lord is given power by the negativity in the hearts of mankind. All that fury and hatred for me will only be your downfall.”

He is then transformed into the ultimate force of all evil, the Dark Lord. He takes on the name Count Dracula, abandoning his former humanity.

Sonia cannot hope to win, but she fights on in exhaustion in the midst of the crumbing castle. Dracula laughs as she collapses. Sonia spits out blood, and in her assumed dying moments as Dracula approaches, she curses his name and tells him, in an oddly prophetic way, that one day he shall experience true loss, his children shall turn against him, and her descendants will cheer on his downfall.

Dracula is enraged by her words, and is about to deal the final blow before Sara jumps in front of her. Sara tells Dracula to let her live, or else kill her as well.

Out of perceived "love" for Sara, Dracula lets the two women go, and Sara carries Sonia to safety as the castle falls to eternal ruin. The fog of eternal darkness recedes from the forest and the sun rises as they meet up with Rinaldo.

Sara retreats into the shadows to avoid the sun's rays, but Sonia follows, telling her that no matter what she will go wherever she leads her.

"But I am inhuman. I am a monster, just as Walter and Dracula were." Sara avoids her gaze.

"To be inhuman is to reject love and kindness and to seek evil ends. Dracula made that choice himself... And you have chosen to save me." Sonia embraces her tightly.

"You love me, despite my newfound home in the night..."

"If the night is your home, so it is mine. The Belmont family shall henceforth walk the path of shadows in pursuit of the Dark Lord... and we will hunt the night for eternity."

And then the credits roll yaaaay

After the credits it is stated that Sonia has had a child, and though that child shares the cursed fate of a Belmont and a bloodsoaked lineage of a vampire, that child will one day be hailed as a hero.

The End :)

[chubbyreaderchan]

Hero |  Bo Sinclair x Reader

MAJOR WARNINGS!!!: Contains mention of abuse, sex trafficking and lots of other triggering topics. Please do not read if you cannot handle such things. This will also very obviously have at least mild gore because it is literal serial killers! You have been warned. 

Summery: Bo and his brothers accidentally saves a girl from a sex trafficking ring. Instead of murdering her, they allow her to stay in Ambrose. Bo doesn’t expect to fall in love with her, especially since she clings to him and relies on him for comfort. 

(Y/n) sat in the front seat of the truck. She was the last to be delivered to a very rich man in New York. Tears streamed down her dirty face. Honestly, she just wanted to go home. She wanted to run away but she knew she didn’t have a chance, especially with her hands cuffed to the seat she was in. The man next to her very rarely spoke. Silent until she did something he didn’t like. She was bruised and uncomfortable, tired. But she didn’t want to sleep. She never wanted to risk it. He was pretty handsy, despite knowing his boss would kill him since the buyer wanted an “untouched” lady. 

Her stomach churned. She wanted to vomit. The vehicle was extremely hot as they drove through the middle of no where. The sun was sinking down and his truck puttered and made a strange noise. The truck was slowing down, practically crawling. He cursed annoyed and pulled off the side of the road. He tossed a blanket over her to hide her while he got out of the vehicle. He opened the hood and looked it over. He was city boy and had never actually fixed a truck before. He cursed and pulled out his phone. 

“My damn truck is a piece of shit...” He shouted, she stayed low as to not get the brunt of it. He kicked the tire on the truck arguing now. (Y/n) wished she wasn’t stuck in the truck or else she would make a run for it. She tugged at the chains and cursed softly. 

How long will she be here? 

She didn’t know. However, a tinge of hope built up in her chest when bright headlights came over the hill. It was a beat up truck with deer hooves hanging on the mirror. A scrawny man walked out. Her captor cursed again and moved to shove her down further to hide her. She winced as her wrist was tugged, pinched and slightly cut by the cuffs. “Ya need some help, buddy?” The happy looking guy spoke. 

“My truck is being a piece of shit.. I don’t know shit about it.” The scrawny man looked at the truck. “Ya ain’t far from Ambrose. My brother works there and he’s pretty good at fixin’ cars. He’s pretty cheap too.” The man whose name she never got cursed again and looked at his watch. If he didn’t the delivery would be late. If he was careful maybe he could get away with it. “Fine.”

“I can tow it.” He said with a bright smile on his face. “Unless you think it could make it.” 

“No, it should be fine.” Towing would be really risky. He climbed back into the truck and covered her more. He whispered to her harshly. “If you say a damn thing I will kill you” He flipped on the vehicle. It groaned to a start, whizzing as they drove to the small and strangely empty town. It was eerily quiet, but perhaps that was just because it was so late. It was a small town, the rules were different. 

“I gotta go get ‘im” The thin man, now known as Lester stated. “He don’t like people going into his gas station when he’s not there though.” He looked a little nervous. He was going to have to wake up his brother who honestly didn’t take things well. But it was a new tourist! He drove off and (Y/n) stayed down, softly sobbing. She was so close to being saved and yet so far. As soon as the damn truck was fixed she would be off to New York to be abused by some rich asshole. “Shut the fuck up” he whispered once Lester was gone. “I don’t care how rich the bastard is. I will fuck you up if you make any more noises” This time he had a pocket knife in his hand. He slid it down her cheek, leaving a burning trail of blood. “Don’t test me, bitch!” That’s when a broad shouldered dark haired man in a blue truck finally arrived. He looked tired, like he was just woken up. Most likely was. (Y/n) only got a glance of him, but despite his grumpy looking face he was handsome. It was a strange thing to think at a time like this but what else could she do? Her mind wasn’t exactly the healthiest at the moment. 

Now she could hardly hear them as they went into his gas station. She pulled again at the chains hoping for some weakness anywhere. It only cut into her wrists more. Blood dripped down them and she cried in pain, frustrated from her whole situation. Her sobs were as silent as they could be. 

“You know, you can use the facilities at the house. Lester can take ya so I can get to work.” The man nodded as he was lead off by the scrawny man. He left reluctantly. He was hoping the gas station had a bathroom but they were insistent for some reason he found suspect. Once in the house he found himself in a room alone. Or so he thought. After washing his hands, his eyes lifted to see a frozen masked man. He screamed when he felt a pair of scissors go into his ribs. The man screamed in pain pushing the masked man away and slamming out of the locked door back into the main parts of the house.

Meanwhile, Bo was digging in the truck. He pulled out different parts tiredly. Honestly, he wished he could go back to bed but wanted to get some of the easier things out of the vehicle while Vincent his brother was taking care of the tourist. All for one tourist. That kind of pissed Bo off but was to tired to go yell at his brother. He’d do it in the morning. Bo stretched and moved to open the door to the truck grabbing anything that seemed like it was useful. Then he noticed the blanket. It was unusually shaped. He frowned, grabbing it and pulling it. 

Bo’s face was filled with surprise at the pretty girl crouched down in the floor boards, crying. Her hair was dirty and hardly had any clothes on her body. His eyes trailed to the cut on her face then up to her wrists. He cringed, thinking of his own experiences as a kid. 

“Well, I’ll be. That man is just as much of a bastard as we are.” Her eyes widened at that. What did that mean? She sobbed softly, Bo’s blue eyes looked at her with a bit of concern. She was just another to be added to Vincent’s collection... yet. Something about her made him feel awful at the idea. She was already scared and probably seen some shit just as bad as what went on in this town. It also didn’t help that she was exactly his type, if he was honest. Vincent can go fuck himself. 

He walked back into a garage, grabbing some cutters. With a bit of force he broke the handcuffs. Two more cuts and she was completely free. “Come on, darlin’” He was shocked by what happened next. She threw her arms around him, clinging to him like a koala. “It’s alright. I got ya” This was strange. Normally they would run from him. 

“Come on. Let me clean you up.” He carried her into the garage, instead of taking her down stairs to his own fun chamber, he sat her on his metal work bench. He had a small first aid kit and began attending to her wounds. Bo was never this gentle to anyone is his life, but here he was. He knew pain like that oh so well. He knew exactly how to care for it. “There. No more tears, sweetheart. Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be cryin’“ He tried to lighten the mood. “Come here.” He walked off and grabbed a set of coveralls. She was practically naked and honestly though she could use a bit of extra comfort. “You can wear this. It’s a bit dirty but...” He shrugged. (Y/n) took it shakily, not minding him there while she slipped it on. It fit well enough, smelled like cigarettes and motor oil but it was alright. It was better than the sickly peppery smell of the man delivering her to New York. 

“Fucking shit!” Speaking of, there he was walking into the garage. “You little bitch fucking escaped. Get in damn truck, you stupid slut.” He began to advance stupidly forward. Bo stood between her and the man. “You aren’t going to take her, man.” Bo grabbed a heavy tool off the bench. “She’s going to stay right here in Ambrose,” The man grunted and lunged at Bo, only for Bo to bash him in the skull. Fuck that guy. Vincent will just have to get over it. He continued to bash him until he was a barely twitching pile of shit. When Bo looked up he saw Vincent in the drive way. “I’ll get you two new tourists, Vincent. Just let me take care of this one!” Vincent obviously said nothing. A nod. That’s all. He wondered in deeper towards (Y/n). She didn’t seemed phased by either the gore or the strange man touching her cut cheek. “It ain’t too deep.” Bo told his brother, joining them rubbing the blood off his hands. Vincent nodded again and moved to grab the body of the man to take him up to the House of Wax. 

Then she did it again. Ignoring the blood, she reached forward and hugged Bo tight. 

“Thank you, your my hero...” She sobbed. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re safe here.” He held her tightly against him. “What’s your name, little lady?” “(Y/n)”

“I’m Bo. You can stay with me, alright? I’ll take care of you” He said softly, brushing his fingers on her cheek as she cried again. What the hell was he getting himself into?