#the great return of crow where's he been

[crowzzznest]

"Oh, this is wonderful! You did it, N!" (windows crashing sfx)

my art for @employee052's a date with narry event! :] since auro drew the panels for our initial submission, i decided i'd at least chip in and draw smth too. took me 3 days but i got there!

n belongs to the stupid dumb idiot @superaurora16 (my loser brother)

vers with n's glitches (tw eyestrain) and transparent arts of both under the cut :]

[sharkneto]

1, 6 and 16?

.1. fave book? MEAN why did you ask me that when it was one of the options, hard question. My default answer is Aron Ralston's autobiography, Between a Rock and a Hard Place (what the movie 127 Hours is based on). I've read it quite a few times and Twin gave me a signed copy for Christmas one year. Idk, reading about a man's mental and physical survival journey to cutting off his own arm (and all his adventures before this moment) hits me in the right spot. Books I've read recently, as I'm getting back into the whole reading thing, I supremely enjoyed Six of Crows and The Goblin Emperor.

6. fave trope? Another hard one. For this I'll say... main character denying that they're Special as they figure out they're Special. I'm listening to The Way of Kings at work and the few chapters it took for Kal to realize something was up, making excuses for why x or y happened, was delightful.

16. fave day? Fan of Thursdays. Something about it being over the hump of the week, get to look forward to the fact that tomorrow is Friday and then the weekend. It's nice.

faves ask game

[benjinotes]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 - prologue

next.

( benjicot blackwood x daella velaryon )

don’t translate.

Rain pattered against the window of the young princess' chambers, its steady rhythm echoing Daella's growing unease. Seated by the fireplace, the warmth of the flames should have comforted her, yet her mind remained unsettled, thoughts swirling like the storm outside.

The book on her lap had been forgotten for quite some time; the only indication of its existence was her index finger absentmindedly massaging its leather spine.

The crackle of burning logs mingled with the distant rumble of thunder and the patter of rain outside, creating a slightly foreboding symphony. Daella's gaze shifted from the flames to the window, where raindrops raced across the pane. The Dragonstone Castle, usually bustling with life, now rested eerily quiet under the veil of night.

Suddenly, a strange noise caught her attention. Observing from afar, she saw a crow perched in the window, its black feathers glistening in the occasional flash of lightning. The bird watched her with intelligent, penetrating eyes, as if carrying an unknown omen.

However, what caught her attention the most was the red beak that the bird had, which seemed to stand out against its black features and, for some reason, brought her comfort.

Deep down, she knew that this was the maximum comfort she could get at that moment and for the next few days, since her mother's throne had just been usurped and her brothers had gone in search of allies to fight in a war that was to come.

Remembering that Jacaerys and Lucerys were alone out there in search of allies made Daella's heart come to her throat and made her feel a little guilty for not having followed them in search of more support for reclaiming the throne. Yet she couldn't go, not when her combat skills were almost nonexistent and not when Rhaenyra was mourning Visenya, who had died during birth.

To say Daella was her mother's shadow was an understatement. The princess was like her mother's shadow from the day she was born, following in her footsteps in almost every aspect of life. The connection between them was so deep that Daella seemed to reflect her mother's essence and values in almost everything she did.

She would do anything for her mother, and that's why she decided to stay to help her, because in addition to loving her unconditionally, she knew her; she knew that Rhaenyra was suffering, and she knew that sometimes she was too proud to admit it. That was one of the things they had in common.

"Princess Daella?!" A man's deep voice woke her from her thoughts, and she jumped a little, startled by the sudden noise that came from behind the oak door. "Princess, are you there?" The man asked again, and she recognized it as Sir Duman's voice, one of her mother's most faithful guards.

Regained her composure, Daella took a deep breath, and hurried to the door of her chambers, both worried and curious about the late-night interruption.

The first thing she saw when she opened the letter was Sir Duman's worried face. The flickering torchlight in the hallway cast shadows across his features, highlighting the urgency in his eyes.

Lifting her chin and stretching her back, Daella couldn't help but feel worry wash over her, but still, her voice didn't waver as she began to speak. "Yes, Sir Duman, I'm here. What happened?" She asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

The old man's expression returned to normal, and the girl couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when she noticed his expression soften.

That meant he didn't bring bad news, right?

"Queen Rhaenyra is waiting for you in the great hall, my princess; she wishes to speak with you." Sir. Duman began, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the castle. "A raven has arrived with news." At those words, the Velaryom girl furrowed her eyebrows in question, curiosity falling over her once again.

"Oh." Daella said, and she bit her tongue when she realized her short and stupid answer. "Then let's go; we can't keep our grace waiting." At Daella's words, the man nodded and waited for the princess to lead the way, giving a small bow when she passed in front of him.

Even as she tried to maintain a confident posture while making her way towards the great hall, the Velaryon girl couldn't help but let some of her other concerns creep back into her mind, and the speculations of what could have happened seized her brain in such a ravenous way that she felt like she might vomit at any moment.

The queen had never summoned her at such a late hour, so the matter must be urgent.

Upon arriving at the great hall, Daella carefully opened the door, finding her mother and stepfather, Deamon, standing in front of the stone table. Strangely, none of them seemed to notice her presence there.

"Your grace." The princess spoke in a loud voice, hearing the wooden door behind her slam as she spoke. "Did you request my presence?" The girl said that, although it came out more as a questioning tone, she couldn't help but smile when she noticed her mother's violet eyes looking at her with so much love.

Without hesitation, Rhaenyra approached her daughter, a smile on her face but a tired look that made Daella's heart sink. Losing Viserys had been difficult for her mother, but losing Visenya had caused her mother heartbreak that she had never felt before.

She knew she probably couldn't endure a loss like that as well as her mother did, which only deepened her admiration for her.

"My sweet girl." The queen greeted her sweetly, and Daella couldn't help but let her smile widen when she realized that she wanted to have a conversation as a mother and not as a queen.

"Yes, māzma?" Daella questioned with curiosity shining in her eyes and got a little closer to her mother, managing to get a clearer view of her stepfather, who was currently reading a letter with an annoyed expression. The coat of arms of House Blackwood was visible on the envelope he had in his another hand. (mom)

Rhaenyra sighed softly, and when the princess saw her exchanging meaningful glances with Daemon, their eyebrows drew together in confusion. "You know we sent letters to some noble houses seeking support for the war, right?" The queen asked rhetorically and gave another sigh when she saw her daughter nodding her head hesitantly.

Daemon got a little closer to them.

For some reason, Daella's heart began to beat heavily, and she couldn't help but bite her lip, anxious for the next words the white-haired woman was going to say to her.

"The good news is that most houses have decided to join us." Daemon spoke up for the first time, sensing his wife's hesitation in bringing up the subject. He just wanted to finish this conversation.

"But?" Daella asked when she noticed the hesitation and the hesitant exchange of glances. Her head was racing. They should be happy to have such strong allies, but yet they seemed worried, and the fact that none of them told her what was happening was starting to make her upset.

"The Blackwoods have agreed to support our cause." This time, Rhaenyra spoke and placed a hand on her belly. "But they have one condition." The woman's words faded off, and Daella turned to her stepfather for an explanation.

Daemon moved a little closer and looked at his wife for permission before speaking. "They want a marriage alliance between you and Benjicot Blackwood." He explained carefully, and the princess looked at the two in shock.

The revelation hit Daella like a wave, causing her to step back in shock. She had always known a political marriage was inevitable, but now that the reality had dawned on her, she felt dazed and even a bit unwell.

"What? Why?" She asked, distressed, her heart pounding and her hands sweating as she walked backward down the hall. Rhaenyra glanced at her worried daughter before turning back to her husband and giving him a nod.

Daemon massaged his forehead, starting to get irritated. "House Bracken and House Blackwood have always been at odds." The man began to explain and once again looked at his wife for permission to continue. "Upon discovering that the Branckens were our allies, Lord Blackwood made the marriage request in exchange for his troops and services." He finished, and the princess couldn't help but give a disbelieving nasal laugh, her hand out of a simple rivalry. It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.

Noticing Daella's expression, Rhaenyra approached her daughter again, this time more carefully. "I know it's a lot to process. But it's your decision; if you don't want to get married, Daemon and I will refuse the proposal." She said, while putting her hand on Daella's face, who bit her lower lip.

She harbored an intense desire to express her refusal, to vocalize her frustration, but remained unable to do so, aware of the imminent threat of war, the critical need for allies, and her support for her mother and brothers during the approaching storm.

"The House Blackwood is important?" Daella asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, and the two adults in the room exchanged a solemn nod. Too much important.

"It's better to have them on our side than on the opposite side." Her stepfather reacted with an impatient gaze, and she couldn't help but sighed.

"I understand, I will do it." Daella said quietly, her voice steady as she accepted the reality before her, and with a deep breath, she straightened her posture.

There was no turning back now.

Rhaenyra and Daemon exchanged glances, a mixture of pride and concern evident in their eyes, knowing the weight of the sacrifice that the only daughter of the heir to the Iron Throne was making at this moment.

"I'm immensely proud of you, thank you." The queen whispered, planting a tender kiss on her daughter's cheek. The princess visibly softened, reassured by her mother's affectionate gesture amidst the swirling emotions.

"I will promptly dispatch a raven to Lord Blackwood." Damon interrupted , his tone brooking no delay, and Rhaenyra shot him a stern look at his brusqueness, while Daella sighed anxiously in silent agreement beside them.

She was doing this for her mother.

— i don't know how to feel about this, but i hope you like it. <3 normally my chapters tend to be bigger, but as this is just the prologue i decided to make it smaller, and this is my first hotd storie so i'm kinda scared.

— benji soon, promise. 😔

ALSO: please make me requests for: reader x character.

wattpad.

tag: @marytvirgin

[xvysarene]

𝔽𝕒𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝔸𝕥𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

Pairing: Sylus x Fem!Reader Prompt: “Why do you always have to get under my skin?” Words: ~2k Genre: Suggestive Notice: Mentions of wound, profanities

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

Halting at the top of the stairs leading to your flat, your hands tightened around the pocket knife you had begun to carry.

Your eyes scanned the swaying tree nearby, certain that you had caught sight of that damn crow once again.

Since waking up on the white sheets of the hospital two weeks ago, after being rescued from a kidnapping by a certain someone who seemed to vanish into thin air (again), you often caught the mechanical black bird at the corner of your eye.

Locking the front door behind you with a click, the familiar surroundings of your home offered a brief moment of comfort.

Until your eyes landed upon the man sitting on your couch. He sat there as if he belonged.

“To what do I owe this displeasure?” You sighed, not even questioning how he got in, though your door was accessible only with your fingerprint.

A small smirk played at the corner of Sylus’s lips. “It’s good to see your feistiness returning.”

“If you saved me and paid my hospital bills in hopes to gather more information, you’ll be disappointed. I have none.”

One eyebrow, a shade darker than his hair, arched at the unexpected accusation. “Is it so hard to believe that was purely my good intention?”

“I became a puppet in whatever beef you had with my kidnappers. It would be stupid of me to assume that you’d do a goodwill for someone you claim not to care about,” you said bitterly, the memory of the event happening a couple of weeks ago flooding back vividly.

“The great man Sylus can’t take it when someone touches his whore. We were just about to have fun, weren't we, darling?”

Sylus remained unfazed by your capturer’s mockery. One of the lifeless goons was still dangling from his grip, and he casually chucked it to the ground as though it weighed nothing.

If you hadn’t been watching his eyes closely that day, you would have missed the quick flick of his gaze taking the blossoming bruise on your cheek, the half-ripped blouse, and the cold blade pressed against your neck, biting into the tender skin.

“I don’t care about her,” he drawled. 

And not once did his eyes lock with yours. It was stupid to feel hurt by his indifference. You wouldn’t be there in the first place if it weren't for this heartless prick.

Yet his words stung deeply.

The feeling of the wooden door flushed against your back grounded you to the present, trapping you in as he silently closed the distance.

Struggling to remain undaunted, you continued, “You completely ignored me after manipulating me to gain information on the hunters who had begun meddling in your business—”

“I ignored you so those hunters wouldn’t trace you back to me,” he cut you off.

It took a few seconds to let his words sink in. “What?” You gaped.

“Your kidnappers were among the hunters you mentioned to me. They were not UNICORNS’, they were rogue hunters whose leader I killed. That’s why they were after me.”

He ran a hand through his face. “When I realised how unknowingly deep you were in this mess, I had to divert their attention away from you.”

His towering height prompted you to tilt your head upward. The ghost of his fingertips tracing from your cheek, down to the side of your neck, caused you to flinch in surprise.

“What do you think those lowlifes would do if I show even an ounce of care towards you?”

While the bruises had subsided, the scar from where the blade had grazed you remained.

A muscle ticked in his jaw seeing the jagged line. “You weren’t supposed to be involved at all.”

“A bit too late now isn’t it?”

His eyes darkened, an ember of fury passing through them. “I ensured they suffered tenfold for what they did to you, and only then did I end them.”

The sound of breaking bones and desperate noises from that day rang in your head. It was a blessing in disguise that your eyes screwed instinctively as the captor callously tossed you aside.

You didn’t even want to witness the horrors Sylus had done to them.

Your silence drew his eyes down to the pocket knife still clutched in your hand, now looking so harmless. Wouldn’t it be nice to be born with the Evol gene? Maybe then you could’ve protected yourself better.

“Are you still planning to stab me with that?”

“Depends.” Your chin lifted defiantly.

A glint of amusement danced in his eyes as he chuckled lowly, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

You hated your body for reacting that way. It was infuriating how effortlessly he could affect you.

“Why are you here then? What more do you want from me?”

“You,” he said without a heartbeat’s pause, “I want you.”

It felt as if the air had been stolen from your lungs, leaving you breathless.

Sylus was a big, red warning sign. Much like his eyes. And yet, when he locked you in that magnetic gaze, your brain short-circuited.

He’s got you spellbound ever since you first met him at The Nest, acting like a gentleman by saving you from the overly handsy drunk patrons, before worming his way into your life with calculated charm.

Every colleague had warned you about him, yet you still chose to dance with danger.

“You think you can just walk in here and take whatever you want?”

A slow smile curved the corner of his lips, leaving you torn between wanting to slap it off his face or kiss it away.

Maybe both.

“I can try, right?” His confidence was maddening, and yet, it drew you in like a moth to a flame.

Your mind screamed to push him away, to run, but your body betrayed you, entranced by the undeniable tension that always seemed to exude whenever the two of you were near each other.

“Why do you always have to get under my skin?” you were too breathless, too vulnerable for your liking.

He dipped his head closer, his voice a low, intimate murmur by your ear, “Figuratively or literally?”

The feel of his rough, masculine fingers at the nape of your neck sent your heart racing. 

Haunting reminders of them tightening around your throat, the pressure mirroring his relentless thrusts, would forever be burned in the back of your mind.

Oh, and how could you forget how those fingers always managed to find your sensitive spots, teasing and exploring with an expertise that was both exhilarating and overwhelming?

His hands knew your body as if it were an instrument crafted just for him, every caress producing a harmony of sensations that only he knew how to play.

As he repeated his question, daring you to answer him, you punched his firm chest. “Don't fucking play games with me, Sylus.”

“Who said I'm playing?” His other hand enclosed over your pocket knife, tossing it somewhere behind him. The clattering sound should’ve cleared your head, yet it didn’t. “I know what I’ve always wanted. You don’t know how hard it is to ignore you and not send every guy who eye-fucks you six feet under whenever I visit the bar.”

Underneath the surface of physical attraction and fleeting desires, there was always a complex connection between the two of you that couldn't be easily dismissed.

Those eyes, a deep, passionate red, always glowed with intensity when they fixed upon you, as if nothing else in this world could divert his attention.

As if he wanted to make you his, to protect and treasure with every fibre of his being.

“You're impossible,” you whispered, though it lacked conviction.

With a slight lift of one eyebrow, he asked you a question. So, what's it going to be?

He was a confident man. Direct. In no rush.

You should've felt ashamed when your hands moved of their own accord and tugged at his lapel roughly, but you couldn't care less when your lips met his with equal passion.

The familiar, distinct notes of leather melding with cedarwood enfolded you. As his big palms rested on your bottom, lifting you to ease the strain on your neck, your legs naturally encircled his taut form.

Feeling his thick arousal pressing firmly against your clothed, damp core was an exquisite torture, ripping a deep moan out of you.

Sylus devoured the sound like a starved man finally savouring a long-awaited meal.

His long legs carried you swiftly to the bedroom in less than ten strides, lowering your body onto the mattress with a surprising gentleness, though his lips revealed a contrasting intensity.

Exploring. Consuming. Desiring.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as he drew a map of sloppy kisses along the curve of your neck.

Until he stopped short at the spot where you knew the slightly raised scar from the blade was.

“I am sorry, I should’ve kept you close.”

The crack of emotion seeping from his voice startled you, forcing your eyes open to meet his crimson orbs already focusing on you.

A vulnerability he hardly revealed to the world softened the stern lines of his face. Swirls of yearning and fury were a turbulent mix in his pupils.

“I won’t let anyone else hurt you again.”

How could this man be so full of contradictions?

He was rough and tender.

Brutal and compassionate.

“Just because I don’t possess any Evol, doesn’t mean that I’m fragile.” 

The caress of your palm cradling his cheek prompted his eyes to drift shut. His lips grazed your wrist, where the skin, once raw and marred red from being bound, had now healed up nicely.

“But if you get hurt because of me, then I will never be able to forgive myself, amore.”

If hearing the familiar pet name tumbling out of his lips didn’t turn you into mush, the sensation of his big palm sliding beneath your shirt certainly would.

His warm and protective touch on your bare flesh sent tingles racing along your skin.

“Come stay with me.”

You weren’t even able to let out a gasp of surprise as Sylus discarded your clothes at such an admirable speed.

“For the night? In the N109 zone?” your voice was embarrassingly high-pitched as his silver hair tickled your sensitive skin. Each kiss trailed lower down your chest like gentle raindrops.

“Do you really think I would let you go after tonight?” A small bite was the punishment you received for asking such a ridiculous question. “Everyone knows how important you are to me by now, and I'm not taking any chances with your security. Everywhere, anywhere—I don’t care, as long as I can keep you safe.”

One of his strong thighs settled in between your legs. The fabric of his pants felt so amazing against your throbbing centre, heightening your desire with each agonisingly slow friction.

It was not fair how he had you under his mercy while asking such a serious question. Perhaps this was his cunning way of ensuring you would say yes.

And you were a lost cause, head bobbing up and down the slightest as you surrendered to his control.

“I need your words, amore.”

His hair was dishevelled, sharp features were accentuated by the city lights as he leaned closer to your face again. Ever so subtle, he pressed his thigh more unforgivingly into your core, driving you crazy.

Red eyes twinkled with mischief as Sylus enjoyed watching you squirm underneath him, delighting in the unfiltered lust flushing your face with each teasing contact.

Ever the insufferable tease, he slid his hand underneath your pants, fingers millimetres away from where you needed him the most.

“Yes, I’ll stay with you! God, you’re the worst,” you almost screamed in frustration as your hips bucked. Gasping, you felt those wicked fingers finally descend lower. “Now, talk less and do more.”

A deep hum of satisfaction rumbled from his chest as you felt his grin on your lips, complying with your request. 

“I am no God, but I’ll make sure you chant my name.”

He would damn well make sure that you two would be christening every corner of his living space—now yours—starting from the sleek granite kitchen countertops, to the plush rug in the living room, all the way to the balcony beneath the moonlit sky.

[raventreehall]

a storm of swords dash simulator

🍋ladyjonquil Follow

i don't want to reveal too much but i had a really great day today hawking and riding and received some really exciting news (and maybe a potential marriage offer!) wow wow wow!!! haven't felt like this in so long 🥰

🤡florianthefool Follow

i'm so happy for you my jonquil

🐦littlefinger Follow

thanks for sharing my lady

🏹kissedbyfire Follow

PISSED OFF AT MY BF RN 🤬🤬🤬 NEVER TRUST A SOUTHERNER AND ESPECIALLY NEVER TRUST A CROW!!!!!!!

👸🏼daenerys-targaryen-tracker Follow

🐎raeqqo Follow

by the law of the dothraki she must return to vaes dothrak to take her place alongside the crones of the dosh khaleen. it is known.

🐉3heads Follow

shut up and go sack a defenseless city or something

🍁weirwoodzz Follow

hey do you guys remember when theon greyjoy took winterfell last year and killed the stark boys? has anyone heard anything else about that? feel like it kind of just disappeared from the news cycle, what happened to greyjoy?

🪓cerwynnation Follow

lord bolton's bastard killed him

🍁weirwoodzz Follow

oh really? wow. kind of extreme but deserved i guess

💗ramsays-sharpest-blade Follow

Ramsay isn't a bastard, King Joffrey legitimized him two months ago and Lord Roose is going to make him castellan of the Dreadfort soon. He loves his son and trusts his abilities. Plus, Ramsay is being awarded for his efforts in saving Winterfell and putting a stop to the ironborn raids in the North by being betrothed to Arya Stark—would a bastard be granted that honor? I don't think so.

Also, Theon isn't dead, Ramsay is (rightfully) flaying him for his crimes in the dungeons beneath the Dreadfort. Gods, I'd love to see Ramsay thrust the knife under his skin!!!!! 😜

#ramsay bolton #house bolton #our blades are sharp #theon greyjoy

🐐the-goat Follow

i'm boutta come into thome real money real thoon 😈 💎💎💎💎💯

🏰freygirl73 Follow

ughhhh my sister is getting married tmrw and my brothers keep going on about getting revenge on king robb while he's here for the feast... like i just wanted some food :/// iswtg that's the only good thing about my siblings weddings and now they're saying there won't even be any and i'm gonna have to go into hiding before the bedding ceremony or something. why can't my family just be NORMAL

🐟greenfork Follow

TW: Red Wedding, death, violence

A masterpost on what happened at the Twins and what it means for the Northern independence cause, the War of the Five Kings, and the realm in general.

Also a bunch of links on how you can help people affected in the Riverlands.

Keep Reading

🍵bowlobrown Follow

HELL YEAH BROTHER 🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

🔥heatofdorne Follow

i wanna ***** ********* on ellaria sand's **** and *** ****** then call in oberyn and ***** **** them both until **** *****

🤎pate7534 Follow

🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

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why are there so many crabs on my dash rn

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TYWIN LANNISTER IS DEAD 🦀🦀🦀🦀

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actually i think it's still for king joffrey

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lol i thought it was for robb stark

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maybe it's for the mountain?

⬛️ freezingmyarseoffonthewall Follow

DOLOROUS EDD LORD COMMANDER 300 AC

⬛️ freezingmyarseoffonthewall Follow

DOLOROUS EDD WILL LEAD US TO VICTORY AGAINST THE OTHERS

🕊️ just-a-humble-sparrow Follow

mother have mercy i was walking by the great sept of baelor (i wanted to pay my respects to our blessed king joffrey) but i was blocked by a knight of the kingsguard—i believe it was one of the kettleblacks, unfortunately i always forget which one has been elevated to the kingsguard—because the queen was keeping vigil over her son, so i prayed outside instead. yet only a few minutes passed when i swear i saw the kingslayer arrive (he seemed to be missing a hand!) and enter. then, and this is the most disturbing part, i swear to the father that i heard noises of fornication coming from inside! i know for a fact that the only other person inside was the queen mother. could the rumors be true? i feel dirty even writing this. i wonder if i should tell my septon.

❤️‍🔥stannis-sweep Follow

stannis has literally been telling y'all and you didn't listen 🙄

🏳️ bannerless Follow

is it just me or is lady stoneheart kinda 👀

[dalishious]

Dragon Age: Origins is still great today, and you should give it a try

I want to preface this post with an important disclaimer: I am not about gatekeeping, and I think that ultimately, you should play or skip whatever Dragon Age games you want. If even after this post you feel like Dragon Age: Origins just isn’t for you, that’s fine! That doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy the Dragon Age media you do want to consume, and it certainly doesn’t mean you’re any less valid a fan. But I personally adore Dragon Age: Origins to this day, and I would love to see more modern gamers give it a chance, despite it being from 2009.

It’s a great introduction to the world of Thedas

Dragon Age: Origins had the tall order of being the first in a potential franchise, yet it climbed those heights and beyond. It perfectly balances the need to explain the world setting and tell a story within that world at the same time, by organizing the plot into puzzle pieces. You, the protagonist, have to recruit different factions into your cause to save the kingdom of Ferelden, so each piece of the game has a different focus on those factions. It spoon-feeds the player information at an easy to understand and absorb pace.

Dragon Age: Origins also makes good use of codex entries for those of you who are big lore buffs and want even more information. Yet at the same time, it does not overly rely on the codex; all the most crucial parts of the lore that you need to know are included in your interactions with characters and plot.

The player gets to shape the story

The nature of those puzzle pieces also means that you have huge control over the story from start to finish, because the puzzle itself is shaped by you! The outcomes of each piece form the blueprint of the climax. The end of the game is reactive to the choices you make in the story throughout. (Mind you, a lot of those choices have been retconned in later games, but still, within the confines of Dragon Age: Origins itself, it’s still fun to see the outcomes of your decisions.)

The story itself is great

I would consider Dragon Age: Origins to have the most straightforward premise of all the Dragon Age games released thus far, with a strong identity linking the different main quests all together. You are a newly recruited Grey Warden, left to unite Ferelden against the big bad Blight after 99% of the Order within the nation is wiped out in a catastrophic battle. You may get caught up in dwarven politics, ancient curses, demonic possession, and plenty more along the way, but no matter where you find yourself, your motivation always falls back to that ultimate responsibility.

The characters are also great

Almost all the companions you’re able to collect along the way are very easy to love, or at least appreciate them for what they are.

Alistair is also a new grey warden. He is struggling with grief over the loss of his mentor, and the weight of having no control over his identity his whole life.

Morrigan is a witch who grew up isolated in the woods with no one but her abusive mother for company. Now she must learn to interact with others, and dependant on the player, perhaps even make a friend, lover… or enemy.

Leliana is a bard from Orlais, whose faith told her to assist the grey warden plight. But beneath the demure outward appearance, she has a much darker past she’s running away from.

Sten is a Qunari warrior who was taught that outside his culture, everything is backwards and nonsense, but he cannot return home until he has restored his soul by recovering his lost sword. Along the way, he may learn to appreciate or despise Ferelden.

Zevran was enslaved by the Antivan Crows as a child and made into an assassin. If the player can chip away at his nonchalant mask, they will find his past has left a lot more scars on him than he thought it safe to admit.

Wynne is a mage from the Circle who is struggling to deal with the nature of age, death, and life purpose.

Shale is a golem who was once under complete and total control by her former master, now learning what it’s like to be free, and wanting to uncover her forgotten past before losing that freedom.

Oghren is there too, unfortunately.

And the player character really feels like they are of your own creation. The choices you make, little and small, offer a lot to shape whatever kind of protagonist you want. Additionally, the benefit of starting the game with a different origin, and playing out that origin before getting recruited into the grey wardens, offers a lot of prompting to get into the roleplay!

The datedness can be easily upgraded with modding anyway

Do you find the combat clunky? There’s mods for that. Do you find the graphics too bland? There’s mods for that. Do you wish you could kiss Alistair as a man or Morrigan as a woman? There’s mods for that, too. Dragon Age: Origins is very easy to mod; most of them you just drop the files into your override folder and start playing. Otherwise, you use the DA Modder app for DAZIP files, which is also not that complicated.

A lot of people consider Skyrim to be dated without mods, too. I personally don’t think there’s anything wrong with appreciating the ability to mod a game, as a positive point.

If you want to play, make sure you use LAA though!

Large Address Aware is a must-have on PC for Dragon Age: Origins.

For GoG or EA App/Origin users: You can just run LAA like normal!

For Steam users: You need THIS first

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: language, violence, oral (male receiving)

Chapter Word Count: 5306

—-MDNI—-

A/N: kind of an odd chapter tbh, there was a few things that I wanted to write so it felt best to squeeze them all in together. I want to start getting into the romance side of things with Dean, so I guess that starts here. Also I’ve been away sick so I’ve added a bit of spiciness.

New readers start here: Prologue

Previous Chapter: Chapter 13

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 14

I grasped the hanger off the rail and slung the pair of flared jeans over my arm to join the other items I was purchasing. Dean had been kind enough to give me a hundred bucks in cash - God knows where from - to get myself whatever I needed whilst he and Sam sauntered off to the menswear stores. As I browsed, lifting a crocheted crop top up before scrunching my nose at the thought of how little it would cover, the bell to the store jingled as someone else walked in. I heard footsteps slowly pace down the short aisle I was in, and as I placed the top back on the rail, I almost jumped out of my skin as someone started talking.

“Oh hey, it's (Y/n) right? You're bunking with the Winchester boys?”

I snapped my head up at the female voice, not expecting anyone out here but Sam and Dean to know my name. My eyes met a pair of warm brown ones, faint crows feet in the corners from years of joy and smiles. I recognised her; she was the short haired woman in the bunker kitchen the night we got back from the strip club.

“Uuhhhh ye- yes! You know Sam and Dean?” My expression was clearly confused as she grinned and held out her hand.

“The names Jody Mills. I've known the boys for a while now - through hunting. It's a pleasure to meet you at last - I've heard great things about you,” I juggled the clothing in my arms and grasped her outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake. She seemed to grin at that.

“Oh, they talk about me? I had no idea,” I suddenly felt a little nervous, the knowledge that I've been the topic of conversations unbeknownst to myself made me sweat a little. Jody seemed to notice this.

“They've only had great things to say, so don't panic! Especially that boy Dean. Not sure how you've done it chick but you really got that wild card wrapped around your little finger,” she raised her eyebrows almost suggestively and I felt heat start to prickle my skin.

“Wh-what? No no no, he's not-” I watched as her head tilted in my direction, eyebrows still raised as a slight grin tugged on her lips. “Have I really?”

She hummed and nodded her head, starting to flick through the clothing rail that I'd been looking at before.

“I've known that boy a few years now, and I've never seen him run to anyone the way he ran to you that night you appeared in the kitchen, looking like a kicked kitten,” she smiled softly and squeezed my arm, “you're something special to him honey, so try not to break his heart.”

“Oh,” was all I managed to say, with what I can imagine was the dumbest look on my face as I felt myself getting redder by the second. A phone ringing suddenly pulled me from my dazed thoughts as Jody reached into her pocket and answered the call. She spoke in a sterner tone than what she'd used with me, and after a few words were exchanged she hung up and returned the device to her pocket.

“I've gotta get going, but I'll try and catch you all again later. I'm in the area for a bit so I'll try and pop by. It was lovely to meet you (Y/n),” she squeezed my arm one last time before turning to leave, the bell on the door signalling her departure. I stood for a moment, my mind spinning from what she'd said about Dean. There was absolutely no way that what she'd said was true. I mean, I beat the crap out of him when we first met, and we've bickered a lot. I guess we've not argued for a good few days. And we've had sex. Oh the sex. I bit my lip as thoughts of us tangled in his sheets came to mind. Not just thoughts, but memories. Like I said to him this morning, we're just fuck buddies. Right?

*

Leaving the store with two large paper bags in one hand and my phone in the other, I first dialled Sam to find out where he was down this stretch of high street. When it went to voicemail, I hung up and dialled Deans number instead. It rang and rang, and when I thought his was going to ring through as well, he finally answered.

“Hey sweetheart, what's up?”

“Hey, I'm finished getting what I need. Whereabouts are you?”

“Uhhh…” I heard him turn to the shop assistant and ask for the name of the store he was in before he relayed it to me.

“Cool, I'll be there in two minutes. See you soon.”

“See ya.”

And with a click I hung up and tucked my phone into my back pocket and walked no more than two hundred yards to get to where he was still trying on boots. As I gingerly walked in, well aware it was a men's store and I was currently the only woman in here, Deans head snapped to the door when the arrival bell jingled.

“Hey sweetheart, you're just in time! I have no idea what to get.”

I couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the thought of the great Dean Winchester getting stumped by the more domesticated side of life.

“Well I'm here to help,” I placed my bags on the bench next to his discarded jacket. “What are the options?”

We must've spent half an hour going over the ones he'd shortlisted, then he chose an entirely different pair anyway, unrelated to the ones he'd picked out for himself.

Leaving the store and a quick phone call between the brothers, we all concluded that now was the best time to stop for lunch. Dean and I made a quick trip back to Baby to drop off our bags, with Dean opting to sport his brand new boots in favour of his old and decrepit ones. It was a short walk back to the high street now that we were bag free, and I could see Sam a mile off - his tall frame loitering outside the chosen diner, the occasional woman walking past throwing a few looks his way. He, of course, was oblivious to those looks, and when he spotted us as we neared he offered a wave. He sprouted a wide, friendly grin as we came to stand next to him.

“You guys get everything you need?”

“Yep! Took Cinderella a while to find the right boots but we got there in the end,” I flashed Dean a playful smirk as he tilted his head in slight annoyance at the nickname, which pulled a light hearted laugh from Sam.

“Oh yeah? Well, at least I didn’t spend twenty bucks on a thrifted Carhartt hoodie.”

“Hey that is durable shit, it’s worth every penny.”

“You could've had one of mine, I don't wear hoodies much anymore.”

“I somehow feel like there'd be a catch with that.”

“Uuhh, I got my jacket, if anyone cares?” Sam decided to interject, and we both turned to look at him.

“Good for you Sammy.”

“Yeah, nice one Sam,” I looked around for a second, not seeing any bags, “where is it?”

He gave me a funny look.

“What?”

“Seriously?” He asked, looking between Dean and myself. I looked at the older Winchester and seemed to have the same questions I did.

“Guys, I’m wearing it. Did you seriously not notice?”

I bit my lip.

“It looks exactly the same,” Dean spoke my own thoughts out loud.

“Well I mean technically it is. But it's not all scuffed up. Look you can clearly tell it's new,” he gestured with his hands that were still in his pockets, flapping the jacket around like he was an elongated flying squirrel.

“Not really.”

“Nope,” Dean popped the ‘p’ before he walked past both of us, “come on guys I'm starving, can we just go in?”

*

A simple lunch in the diner turned into beers in the bar which somehow turned into karaoke followed by shots. The place was bustling - all tables and booths occupied and a permanent flow of people ordering drinks. Most of the guys were of similar tastes, donning boots and leather jackets whilst the few women that were there pranced around in short-shorts and low cut tops. I for one felt a little out of place. The three of us were lucky to snag a booth, albeit close to the small stage situated up front, and I’d tucked myself into the corner, cradling my rum and coke. Dean had left his jacket beside me whilst he’d ventured off to challenge a group of guys to a ‘friendly’ game of pool, his laugh occasionally flowing over the chatter and music towards where Sam and I were sitting.

“How long do you think it’ll be until they realise they’re being conned?” I quizzed, taking a gulp from my glass and letting the bubbles fizz on my tongue before swallowing. Sam chuckled, taking a second before answering.

“Uhhh I don’t think these guys will find out until tomorrow morning.” We both laughed, knowing full well that Dean will spend all night gloating about how great he is, how we should bow in respect of the swindle master. I was lost in thought for a moment, wondering how much money he would actually walk away with when Sam’s voice pulled me back to reality.

“(Y/n), can I ask you something?”

I took another gulp of my drink, knowing full well what that puppy-dog look in Sam’s eyes meant, that furrow in his brow only accentuating it.

“Sure, go ahead.”

He took a breath.

“Are you ok? Like, really ok? Because if I’m honest, if I saw someone who I thought was dead - that I used to be in love with - stand before me after years of believing I’d never see them again; I don’t think I would be ok.”

I fiddled with the hem of Deans shirt sleeve for a second, my brain swarming with every thought I’ve been avoiding since the other night and keeping every little buzz under lock and key. I hated to admit it, but I was afraid to open Pandora’s box for the fear of ice cold confrontation. It wasn’t the wisest option, but putting the skeletons back in their closet and throwing out the key was what I genuinely thought was best. I let out an emotionally exhausted sigh before slumping back in my seat.

“I’m not ok. It still feels like some sort of fucked up fever dream, but… but thinking about it isn’t going to make me feel any better. Talking about someone who’s been dead to me for years isn’t going to take this messed up feeling away. In my mind, there’s nothing to get over where he’s concerned. Yeah, he was my teenage sweetheart, but I’m a grown woman now with a whole new brain and a whole new heart,” I could’ve kicked myself for letting my eyes flick over to Dean.

Sam sighed, resting his elbows on the table, a small smile twitching on his lips.

“If you’re sure, because you know I’m always here if you want to talk.”

“I know, thanks Sam,” I gave him a soft smile, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “Although, just one thing…”

“What’s that?” He sat up straighter.

“I don’t think it’s Daniel as a person that has me feeling like this - I grieved him and moved on from him years ago. I think… I think it’s the thought of that soul crushing sorrow coming back that scares me the most. The kind of sorrow that makes you forget what day it is; that stops you from eating and going outside and taking care of yourself. It makes you lose friends and interest in hobbies. It makes the whole world look grey and lifeless. You feel so unbearably numb that you aren’t even sure why you’re alive anymore. It makes you want to die.”

“(Y/n)…” Sam seemed at a loss for any other words as he held my hand softly across the table, running his thumb gently over my knuckles. I took a deep breath before carrying on.

“I felt like that when I lost Daniel, but when I lost Bobby, I… I…” I felt my voice crack slightly, “when I lost Bobby it was so much worse, I genuinely never thought I’d be normal ever again. Luckily for me, Charlie found me,” I grinned, remembering her determination to piece me back together. I looked up from where our hands joined, meeting Sam’s gaze.

“The only way I’d go through any of that again would be if I was to lose you guys. I know it’s not been long, but for once I’ve found something that makes me want to get out of bed in the mornings. That shit is hard to find.”

We both took a moment, feeling the weight of my words as we shared a gaze. I knew from the way his brows drew together and that far away look in his eyes that he felt everything I’d said. He’d experienced it first hand. And he knew that he didn’t have to say much, if anything, to convey that he understood. Slowly pulling my hand out from under his and placing my palm over his knuckles, I gave a gentle squeeze before standing, letting him go and grasping my glass. I threw the last mouthful back, the liquid vigorously fizzing down my throat before warming my chest. As I swallowed, I held my glass up and raised an eyebrow at Sam.

“Well shit, would you look at that - my glass is empty. Guess I’m heading to the bar. You need a top up?”

“Yeah, please. Remind me to get the next round,” he grinned as I slid out the booth and headed towards the bar. As I waded through the crowd I passed the pool table, glancing over at Dean who was deeply engrossed in taking a player's hard earned money out of his grasp. I watched the smug grin spread over his lips as he counted then pocketed the cash.

I looked up to see an opening at the bar so I squeezed in, perching myself on a stale beer-scented barstool whilst I waited for the barman to notice me. After a couple of minutes of being served he placed the drinks before me and I paid on one of Deans ‘special’ credit cards, scooping all three glasses into my grasp - with an insane amount of skill - and turned to leave. The moment my ass left the seat cushion however I found myself toe-to-toe with a very tall and very rugged stranger, the smell of cigarettes and old leather wafting around him.

“Not seen you around these parts before doll; I know I’d recognise such a pretty face,” he had a grim smirk on his face and his voice was like sandpaper - rough but certainly not sexy. I tried to take a step back but only ended up seated back on the barstool.

“Just passing through,” I did my best to flash a polite smile in the hopes he would sense I didn’t want to have this conversation. No such luck.

“A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be in a place like this all alone. Things might…happen.”

A shudder ascended my spine into my neck and I tried my best to subtly shake it out before I gave into my more defensive side.

“Who the fuck do you think I am with this many drinks? They’re clearly not all mine… ergo, I have company.”

His gross grin widened, the subject of my statement clearly not settling correctly in the empty space between his ears.

“Getting feisty… I like it. Can’t get much better than a little thing with a mouth.”

I shuddered again.

“What part of ‘I have company’ do you not fucking understand? And even if I was alone, I definitely wouldn’t be going anywhere with you.”

His grimy smirk faltered slightly, finally absorbing some of my words that seemed to be floating in the air around his thick skull.

“Aw don’t be like that.”

“Oh I’m gonna ‘be like that’ until you leave me the fuck alone.”

He took a lumbering step forwards, pushing me further onto the barstool.

“See now there’s a point when a mouth on a pretty thing becomes down right obnoxious, and you’re nearing that point sweetheart.”

“Don’t you fucking ‘sweetheart’ me you dick,” I was mentally preparing to buy another round of drinks as the thought of throwing these three at this asshole was becoming sweeter by the second, and people were starting to watch on but there wasn’t a single white knight in sight.

“Well now you’ve just crossed that line,” the second I saw him start to raise his arms my instincts kicked in and I gave into my previous thought and doused him in liquor, the amber liquid running down his face and neck and soaking into his clothes. He looked down at himself in disbelief before lifting his head back up, this time baring his teeth and raising his hand as if to slap me. I reflexively raised my arms and squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact.

“You stupid bitch.”

“If you touch a hair on her goddamn head ‘imma put you six feet under.”

My eyes shot open and I lowered my hands to see a seething Dean Winchester, a single strong hand wrapped around my harasser's wrist.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The faintest smirk pulled at the corner of Deans mouth before disappearing as quickly as it appeared, leaving nothing but quiet rage burning across his features.

“I’m about to be your biggest fucking problem.”

Before the asshole could even react Deans hand went from twelve O’clock to six O’clock in half a second with a sickening snap, breaking the jerks elbow with deadly skill. Practised skill. Whilst my harasser cried out and cradled his limp arm, Dean let go of him before a few of the onlookers gave Dean a nod of approval before escorting the creep out. Once he knew he was out of the building, Dean turned to me, softly grasping my chin between his thumb and index finger.

“Are you ok? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” He tilted my face left and right, scrutinising over my unharmed skin. When he was sure that there wasn’t a scratch on me he let go, relief flooding his gaze as he sighed.

“Dean I’m fine, I promise,” I reached up, fingers hesitantly grazing his stubbled cheek before I thought better of it and dropped my hand to his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“I swear to God (Y/n), if he’d laid a finger on you he’d get a lot more than a busted elbow,” his hand came to rest on my bicep, his long fingers gently wrapping around my arm in subconscious comfort, almost pulling me towards him. My own hand seemed to slide down from his shoulder to rest softly on his chest, my fingertips feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath.

“I know,” I reassured, giving him a little smile to which he returned. I felt my soft smile turn mischievous as thoughts started conjuring in my mind.

“Come on, Sam is waiting for another drink, let's order and get back to the table.”

The bartender had seen Dean step in to help me, so luckily for us this round was on the house. As we slid into the booth opposite Sam I slid his drink over to him.

“What happened back there?” He asked, mildly concerned.

“Just some asshole thinking I was gonna leave this place with him,” I sighed, sitting down, Dean taking his seat beside me. Sam's eyes flicked between the two of us.

“I'm sure I saw him leave with his arm all out of shape, was that-”

“Yeah well, shrimp-dick had it coming,” Dean was doing his best to act nonchalant, however the moment our eyes met over the top of our drinks we couldn't stop the giggles from tumbling out.

“Guys, Dean, you can't go around breaking elbows-”

“Relax Sammy. No one's gonna say anything, they all saw him acting like a creep. Just didn't have the balls to step in. Anyway,” a darker look clouded his eyes as his gaze bore into his younger brother, “he was harassing our girl, Sam. Ain't no way in Hell I was gonna let that slide.”

There was a moment of thick silence before Sam nodded, finally agreeing with Deans actions, knowing that if it had come down to it, he might've done the same. I raised my glass to my lips, taking a long sip before placing it back on the table, looking between the boys as they continued to have some sort of silent conversation that I wasn't a part of. The mischievous thoughts from earlier kept bubbling in my mind, and it didn't take any self-convincing for me to act on them. I shuffled slightly closer to Dean, not enough to draw attention to myself but enough to be in touching distance. I glanced up at him, making sure he was totally unaware and focused on his drink before I reached out slowly, letting my soft fingertips glide over the rough denim of his jeans. I glanced up at him when I heard him inhale his drink, spluttering slightly as I squeezed the inside of his thigh. I traced the length of his inseam, watching his grip on his glass tighten, the tanned skin over his knuckles paling.

“You ok there?” I asked, feigning concern with a quirk of a brow.

“Oh I'm just peachy sweetheart,” his voice came out low, lower than I think he was expecting it to as his eyes nervously darted to Sam who was too busy opening his laptop to notice. Dean leant back on the bench, the worn leather creaking under his weight. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, pausing for a moment before lifting his arm closest to me, as though inviting me to sit closer. Eager to oblige I scooted towards him, nibbling my bottom lip when I felt his large hand rest softly on my back, subconsciously pulling me in. I crossed one leg over the other, turning into him slightly, tilting my head to get a better look at his face.

“I think I left something in the car, would you mind coming with me whilst I grab it?”

He looked a little puzzled for a moment before shotting the last of his whiskey and nodding his head.

“Sure thing,” he turned to his brother, “hey Sammy, we’ll be back in a few.”

Sam grunted a reply, too lost in the article he was reading to pay much attention to us. Dean slid out of the booth and held his hand out to me, which I grasped. His long rough fingers enveloped my hand as he pulled me to my feet. Leaving his jacket behind, we left the bar and made our way to the impala.

The night air had turned chilly, biting at my flushed cheeks as we paced across the lot, taking all of about thirty seconds to reach the impala. Dean was a few steps ahead of me, having unlocked the rear passenger door by the time I'd arrived.

“There you are, grab what you ne- whoa!”

He was caught off guard when I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him down into the car, his broad form filling the space in the back with ease. I climbed in after him, closing the door and crawling along the back bench towards him. It took a moment, but Dean eventually caught on.

“Oh, I’m liking where this is going.”

I chewed at my bottom lip, watching him settle beneath me as he propped up slightly on his elbows, the fabric of his T-shirt stretching thin over his muscular chest.

“I wanted to thank you for being my hero. That’s the second time you’ve rescued me - I wanted to thank you properly. You know, to really show my appreciation.”

It was Deans turn to pull his bottom lip between his teeth, the corners of his plush lips turning up.

“You know, I’m starting to think you might be trouble,” his voice was getting lower with every word, each syllable rumbling in his chest and vibrating into my fingertips.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, feeling some truth to them as I scooted down the bench to sit between his legs before slipping into the large footwell. I patted the seat in front of me, and it didn’t even take a second for Dean to slide himself into it, sitting up straight. As I sat between his knees and looked up at him, I couldn’t help but marvel at the sight; the way the streetlights painted his face in warm amber, softening his battle-hardened features and reflecting in his eyes like dancing embers from a stoked fire. The shadows didn’t seem contradictory - the darkness we were sitting in was far from cold. Dean Winchester was not an artistic man by any means, but he himself was certainly a masterpiece.

I reached up and unbuckled his belt along with the button on his jeans, carefully dragging the zipper down after and tugging the thick fabric along with his boxers off his hips; just enough to dip my hand in and pull out his cock, already hot and heavy in my palm. He made an almost strained noise on contact and my stomach fluttered at the thought of him being so sensitive. So sensitive at my mercy. I adjusted my grip on him before going up and down, once… twice… three times… over and over at a sinfully slow pace. His hands gripped his thighs like they had nowhere else to go, and when I looked up he was watching every move I was making with knotted brows and parted lips. His eyes only found mine when I straightened my back and leant forwards, gliding my tongue up the thick length of him but avoiding the tip. Mimicking my hand, I licked up and down again and again, ever so slowly gaining speed before I finally dragged my tongue over his tip and plunged his whole cock down my throat.

“Oh fuck,” Dean gasped out, his large palms flying to my hair - long fingers knotting with the soft strands. I could tell he wanted nothing more than to shove my head down as far as it would go, but his self restraint shone through. I started to move, slowly at first, head bobbing without missing a beat. The feeling of his cock pressing against the back of my throat over and over was fine at first, but the longer I sucked him off the urge to gag grew. The size of Deans cock was not something to be taken lightly, and after a couple of minutes the impending gag hit and I pulled him out of my mouth.

“Shit, (Y/n)… How are you so good at this?” He hissed out in a breath I’m sure he’d been holding since I'd started. I assumed the question was rhetorical as I gave him a few pumps, swallowing the excess spit and precum on my tongue before leaning back in. One by one I placed hot, wet kisses up his length, placing the final one on his tip before I pulled it back into my mouth. With the new found sensitivity of my gag reflex ever-present, I avoided taking him too far down my throat, this time using one hand to reach where my mouth couldn't at his base. Adding a little twist, I felt his grip tighten once again in my hair, his long fingers absently scooping loose strands away from my face. The combination of feeling him lose his mind beneath me and the tenderness of his touch sent a flutter to my heart which quickly travelled south at the sound of his euphoric groan, his head lolling back and eyes closing. As I pressed my tongue to the large vein scaling his length I could feel his rapid pulse, my own heart rate almost as fast as his. As I continued to bob my head, I could feel him gather all my hair in one hand, his other softy tracing down over my temple, my cheek and my lips before stopping at my chin, a single swipe from his thumb removing most if the spit and precum that was threatening to stream down my neck. I would consider my next move a grave mistake - looking up through my damp lashes to meet Deans white-hot gaze fixated and fascinated with every little motion I made. The blissed-out look in his eyes could have turned a weaker woman into a puddle right then and there, and I surprised myself with my own resilience. He continued to hold me with one hand in my hair and a soft grip on my chin, my own free hand moving to grip him near the inside of his thigh. Another soft moan slipped from his lips as I started to speed up, not caring for the ache in my jaw or mess he was now too preoccupied to swipe away. I was surprised when no words left Deans lips, his usual blasphemous language replaced with velvety moans of pleasure. I could tell he was nearing his peak when his cock twitched between my lips, again and again before before he finally groaned out a strained:

“Fuck, oh shit.”

His grip tightened, like he was trying to pull me off him, however when that telltale throb made his cock graze the back of my throat I removed my hand from his base and enveloped him in his entirety, a final, breathy gasp and groan tumbling from Deans lips before the sensation of warm, viscous liquid spilled across the back of my tongue. It took a moment for the ropes to stop coming, and when they did I pulled him from my mouth slowly, looking up at his breathless form. Not taking my eyes from his, I parted my lips slightly to show his cum, glazing my tongue, before closing my mouth and swallowing the thick liquid down. He let out another groan, his grip finally releasing my hair as he ran his hands over his face, taking a moment for his eyes to find mine again.

“Holy shit, sweetheart… I feel like I just died and went to heaven.”

I couldn't stop the stupid giggle spilling from my lips as I wiped the spit from my lips and chin with the bottom of Deans shirt that I was wearing.

“For a moment there I thought you had too.”

He grinned down at me, perhaps a little bashful as he tucked himself back into his pants and refastened his belt. As he finished up, a few moments of silence hung over us as I still remained nestled between his strong thighs. His eyes met mine and they seemed to hold a thousand words that he wanted to say, and when nothing came from his lips he simply held out his hand to pull me into his lap. Just as my fingers grazed his, however, there was a loud rap at the window which spooked both of us out of our skin.

“Motherfucker,” Dean muttered before rolling down the window, and a small wave of guilt and embarrassment washed over me when I heard Sam's disbelieving yet humoured voice coming from outside.

“Guys are you fucking serious?!”

——————————————————————

@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hobby27 @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @feyresqueen @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @spookyysinsanity @safiyas-world @uncle-eggy @happyt0exist @supernaturalstilinski @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[the-ineffable-dance]

In this post, I took a look at the beginning of the Final Fifteen and how Aziraphale's walk back to the bookshop is not the look of an excited or happy angel... instead, it looks like he's upset and desperately making a plan. Whelp, it's time for the next step of the heartbreak that is the Final Fifteen... Aziraphale's dance.

The first thing that happens when Aziraphale enters the bookshop is Nina and Maggie head out from their chat with Crowley. We follow them out, and the camera leaves them and joins the Metatron as he approaches Muriel on the patio reading a book. He checks in on her, and then straightens up, turning around. This gives him the perfect vantage point to stare straight into the bookshop window right at where our angel and demon are talking.

As you can see in the gif above, Aziraphale can see him from where he's standing. Before he even looks at Crowley, he sees the Metatron through the window.

Crowely starts his confession. He doesn't get very far... but really, he doesn't need to. These are two beings who know each other so well they can tell by tone of voice how the other is feeling. And Aziraphale knows just from the tone what Crowley is trying to say. There's a reason that it's taken them 6000 years to say how they feel... it's dangerous. It was never an unnecessary fear on their part, it was a very real and very present danger. And now, Crowley is about to say all the things that Aziraphale wants to hear, and the danger IS STARING AT THEM THROUGH THE WINDOW.

He hasn't even really looked at Crowley yet... heard the tone that Crowley was using, and looking out the window... Yep! Metatron, right there. Note his hands. Up and down. I didn't watch all of Extraordinary Attorney Woo for nothing! Those are "woah woah" hands. Like, stop talking, stop talking, STOP TALKING.

When he finally does look at Crowley, that's not a happy face. Not the face of someone that's finally hearing the confession they've been longing for for millennia. Michael Sheen has given Aziraphale the most endearing heart eyes throughout season 2...

But no heart eyes here? If everything went great with the Metatron and Aziraphale is completely on board with returning to Heaven with Crowley by his side, why in the world would he interrupt this moment? Letting Crowley profess his love would only strengthen Aziraphale's push to stay together. It is "Incredibly good news" after all. No, things did NOT go well with the Metatron, and they are in trouble. And so, Aziraphale is starting to panic. Crowley isn't paying attention to the "shush" hands, or his repeated looks out the window, so the only thing left is to interrupt. Aziraphale's bumbling rush to cut Crowley off feels a lot like "I can't let you continue so you don't incriminate yourself."

SO!! Azi jumps in with his version of his conversation with the Metatron. The "Good News" - "I... (mouth working furiously without sound)... the Metatron..." I don't think it's 'normal Aziraphale stutter' in the moment between those two words. There are plenty of times when Azi gets a little tongue tied when he's too excited (either due to lying OR trying to impress Crowley). But usually when he does that, he looks up and to the left. Instead, this time he makes eye contact with Crowley and does not look away. If you look closely, I'm nearly certain that he mouths the words "We Need Help."

What convinces me of this even more is that Crowley begins to watch him very intently. He's frustrated... certainly! But he doesn't fall into their normal banter. No quips, no growling at being cut off, no gentle arguing. He can absolutely tell from Aziraphale's tone that this is his "Something's Wrong Voice" and instantly listens.

Then the full dance begins. Aziraphale does begin his normal stutter with the wandering hands... he's trying to not say the wrong thing here and make their situation worse while still being convincing that he's going along with what the Metatron wanted.

Crowley tries to play along... until the offer to become an angel again comes up. I don't think that Aziraphale knows just how painful that concept is for Crowley. And with good reason, because I highly doubt that Crowley has been honest with him about it. Aziraphale loves Crowley for ALL that he is, but since he doesn't know how hurtful this will be, he just blunders right into the offer.

Crowley is so hurt? (Offended? Enraged?) by the concept of becoming an angel again, that he can't keep up the dance they've been putting on for the Metatron. In fact, he immediately fires off "And you told him just where he could stick it then." It's not actually a question for Aziraphale... He knows they're being listened to. He's directly telling the Metatron where he can stick it. "We're better than that" = "We're better than YOU (Metatron)"

And we watch the smile fall from Aziraphale's face. IMO, there is no question that Aziraphale suffers from CPTSD. People (and people shaped beings) with CPTSD can have a very hard time when there is a sudden, unexpected emotional response to something they've done or said. He thought they were on the same page, and suddenly Crowley isn't playing along, and he's angry. Furious. And Aziraphale falls back on old habits as he tries to regain his footing... thus, the unfortunate comment of "You're the bad guys." It's a terrible thing to say. And I'm not trying to excuse Azi for saying it... but it was a trauma response to an unexpected situation.

"Tell me you said no!" "If I'm in charge, I can make a difference."

The dance is over... these lines are not for the Metatron's benefit, or anyone else's. This is real. Crowley wants Aziraphale to say no to the Metatron, regardless of the situation. Aziraphale thinks he can only thwart the Metatron/ protect Crowley and the world by going to Heaven.

Ouch my heart! Onward to Crowley's confession (and possibly a post about the prologue to this heartache and the conversation between Azi and Metatrash)

[maiko-san]

The Chain + TP! Reader (1/?)

Linked Universe belongs to Jojo

Part 2 >

Plot : You are Twilight's childhood best friend, who like Twilight can turn into an animal, that is a crow. You just happen to follow Twilight into the portal in your crow form and meet the Chain.

( Fem Reader )

You and Link have been friends ever since you were kids, always went on adventures together. After the event of Twilight, Link had gone out on a quest to find Twilight Realm, to find Midna and usually he brings you along with him but this time he didn't.

You asked him why, 'It's too dangerous, (N/n). I don't want you to get hurt....' he said. You know he cares about you...but you know how to protect yourself. He has been acting differently, as if he's hiding something from you.

.

.

"I'll be going now, (N/n)" Link said, holding your hands. "Be careful, Link" you give him a smile as Link returns the smile of his own before pulling you into a hug. He takes a deep breath, burying his face into your soft hair and taking in your scent before pulling away. "Wait, before you go!" you said, grabbing his face and kiss his cheek.

This causes Link to turn red from embarrassment, "What's a hero without his good luck kiss?" you smile. Link coughs lightly as he plants a kiss on your forehead, "Love you" he whispered in your ears. NEIGH! Both of you hear a whining and turns to see Epona sticking her head through the window, "You want one too, girl?" you questioned. The chestnut horse nods as you give a kiss on her forehead. "There you go, my lovely" you said, rubbing your cheek against her.

Link smiles at the interaction as he opens the house, "Next time, I'll be staying home for a few days" he said, caressing your cheek before mounting Epona's back.

"Bye!" you said, waving at them as you watch Link rides away. As he disappears around the corner, you quickly go to your room and take out your drawstring bag.

"I'm going to follow him, whether he likes it— or not!" you said. You open the door and close it behind you, making sure to lock it. You make a sprint and jump, your body shifts and turns into a crow. Your bag shrinks along to make it easier for you to carry it on your back. It was a gift from Midna which she enchanted so it can shrink whenever you turn into a crow.

You fly high up in the sky to locate Link, it takes you a while to spot him and you finally see him along with....

A group of men.

You land on the tree branches and hide away from view, you observe the situation and you were shocked. 'Why...why do they look almost like him?!' you thought. All of them almost look alike, blue eyes, blonde hair well it's in different tones but the face!

Are they his brothers? Distant relatives. No wait— both of you grow up together and there's no way he has relatives. If he does, he would tell you!

'Doppelgangers?!' you gasped in your mind. Oh wait— he had told you about meeting people during his adventures. Are they the ones he was talking about?

You couldn't hear what they're saying but they're heading in the same direction. You follow them and make sure you check the wind's direction to avoid Link to pick up your scent.

The group stops as you perch on a branch, your eyes widen at the sight of a large swirling portal.

'Is this why he doesn't let me come?' you thought, it looks dangerous and your crow instinct tells you to stay away from it. You watch as they enter the portal one by one, the last one was a man in armour and has a scar over his right eye. He shares the most resemblance to Link.

He checks his surroundings as if making sure nobody is following before entering the portal. You wait a moment before you dive into the portal, you close your eyes and go through. You feel the breeze hit your feathers, you slowly open your eyes and see that you're no longer Faron Woods but instead an unfamiliar one.

'Where am I?' you thought. 'Urgh...I feel sick all the sudden' you cover your beak with your wing to hold back your breakfast.

"It feels great to be back" a voice said, you panic a little and quickly jump into a nearby bush. You take a peek to see the group up close, "Since we're at my place, lets gear up and start our search for Shadow" said the one in multi coloured tunic. "I want to pay my grandfather a visit before we go" he said. The group walks away and you quickly fly after them, you're not risking getting lost in an unknown place.

You follow the group from above and you can see a small house ahead, yet again you hide in the trees and watch them enter the house but others decide to stay outside and wait.

That would be your Link, a blonde with pink shades, a young boy, a dirty blonde with white cape and a man with a blue scarf.

"So, Twilight. What took you so long anyways?" questioned the one with the blue scarf. "I went to fetch some stuff from my house and talk to my friends" Twilight said. So, they called him Twilight instead of Link? Weird....

"Oh really? Then, what's that on your cheek then?" pinky said with a smirk on his lips. Twilight's hand touches the cheek and turns to look at the window to see lipstick on his cheek.

Twilight blush lightly, "Oooh~ our rancher has a special someone~" teases the scarf boy. "Wait what—really?!" gasped the little boy as he stared up at Twilight. "Do tell why you are keeping a maiden all to yourself, hm?" he smirked. "Oh hush it, Wars." Twilight said. "Haha, come on guys, stop teasing the rancher" smiles the one with the cape.

You hold back a snort as they tease Link or Twilight about his love life with you. The others come out from the house, "What's with the ruckus?" questioned the one in armour.

"Hey, Time! Guess what! Our rancher here has a girlfriend!" Warrior said, bringing Twilight in a headlock, pointing the lipstick mark on his cheek. "Oh—" Time was surprised and gave the rancher a teasing smile. "Malon would be delighted if she hears this" he said.

"Time!" Twilight shouted, face now burning from embarrassment. You watch the men laugh wholeheartedly, causing you to smile at it.

[ End of part ]

[peachdues]

THE GREAT WAR — PART II TEASER

Giyuu’s Flashback • Secret Pregnancy AU

A/N: don’t think I’ve forgotten about these two!

Enjoy a small teaser featuring a key flashback for Giyuu from Part II of TGW. As I said in the notes for Part I, this is a non-linear story, and this flashback in particular is something referenced in Part I, while Reader is patching Giyuu’s wound up (a hint: Giyuu’s particular questioning about Reader’s choice of perfume oils).

Enjoy a little humor and a very, very flustered Water Pillar.

CW: accidental spying while Reader is bathing • Giyuu gets horny but doesn’t realize why • Giyuu is an idiot

READ PART I HERE

The shop vendor continued to gape after the woman long after she disappeared into the bustling crowd. Mildly, Giyuu noted that he’d polished the same dish two times over, unable to break free from his trance.

“Was that not the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?”

“I did not notice.” He replied, chewing thickly on his mouthful of udon. The vendor raised a single, skeptical eyebrow at his dismissiveness but said nothing more, and for that Giyuu was grateful.

He hated small talk, especially when he was trying to enjoy his meal. If anything, it only took away from the experience, ensuring that half his food ended up everywhere — his lap, the counter — but his mouth.

Besides, the Merchant’s attempt to engage him on this particular subject was rather pointless. In truth, Giyuu never really found anyone beautiful — not really. Though, he supposed as he shoved down another mouthful of his soup, perhaps that was because he’d never truly bothered to pay attention to anyone to definitively say one way or another. Paying attention to something as trivial as one’s physical appearance meant he wasn’t focusing on that which truly mattered — like signs of demons, of things going bump in the night.

And Giyuu Tomioka did not tolerate distractions.

With a grimace, he drained the last of the broth from his bowl and tossed a handful of change on the counter for payment. He only nodded curtly at the cook in farewell before he set off, ready to do one final patrol through the forest leading to his home before he would return and await his next orders.

The sleepy forest absorbed the sound of his footsteps as Giyuu made his way through the unmarked path he’d established as the final length of his patrol through the small, mountainous region in which he was assigned. Judging by the faint chirps of the earliest birds beginning to sound from the canopy of trees above, he knew dawn was close, and thus, his vigil was coming to an end.

The night had been relatively quiet, and so Giyuu allowed his thoughts to roam to the Shrine at the other end of the forest. He wondered whether its grounds were already abuzz with trainee priestesses and groundskeepers, as they flurried around to take care of their morning duties before breakfast was served.

Truthfully, his mind was only interested in the activities of one particular trainee, but the Water Pillar had no reason to drop by the once-reverent shrine, and so, he decided to stick to his current route, and then he’d make his way back for a few hours’ rest. If anything were amiss at the shrine, one of the crows he’d stationed there would alert him.

As Giyuu began to make the loop that would lead him back to his barren estate, a shift in the wind brought a change in scent from that of the usual dirt-pine-molded earth odor he’d always associated with the woods, to something softer; sweeter.

The Water Pillar frowned as the early morning breeze wafted more of the peculiar scent towards him. The herbal-floral fragrance was out of place amidst the familiar, damp rot of the forest, and it made him uneasy. Giyuu had long since learned that things that were out place usually spelled trouble, and where there was trouble, there was usually demon activity afoot.

That was all it took for him to change his course of action. With a fluid deftness that came only from years of having to tread lightly to avoid being ripped apart, Giyuu moved through the forest towards the source of the scent, it’s pull growing thicker as he drew nearer.

A cursory glance toward the canopy of the forest above him revealed a lightening sky; the stars had long since winked out, and the Water Pillar knew that the sun was well on its way to breaking over the horizon. But until that time arrived, the threat of demon activity persisted, and this unknown scent was far too close to not investigate.

Besides, if there was a demon in this forest, that meant it could stumble upon the Shrine at any moment, and that was a risk Giyuu would not take.

He took off in a silent run, eyes peeled to track any movement in the dark, his ears pricked for the slightest signal of something misplaced — an odd crack of a branch, or the sudden silence of the rising, tittering birds.

As the trail of strange floral perfume grew stronger, so too, did the distinct aquatic scent of nearby water. His eyes narrowed; only a few feet ahead, the trees thinned into a line before giving way to a large gap.

A clearing. One that housed a sizeable waterfall, judging by the telltale sound of roaring water as it smashed into a cluster of rocks below. He eased into a stealthy prowl toward the opening, his body alert and poised to respond to any threat that awaited him beyond the darker of the forest.

But all was quiet; yet, years spent within the Corps had ingrained within him a deep mistrust of silence. And so, Giyuu lingered in the shadows of the trees surrounding the small waterfall as he watched, waiting.

The raven-haired slayer’s attention snapped to a small disturbance over by the bank of the waterfall. The sky had lightened enough that he could make out a figure, clad in white, knelt down in the shallow of the river basin.

Giyuu’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, but as his eyes further adjusted, he felt his mouth go dry.

Silhouetted against the faint glow emitting from the waterfall and the rapidly lightening sky, Y/N sharpened into focus as she waded deeper into the pool, a small bucket cradled in her arms.

She was not dressed in her usual, traditional Miko attire; rather, she was clad only in a thin white kimono that clung wetly to her hips as she moved towards the waterfall. She paused at the base of the gentle flow of river from the cliff above, and she pulled a small vial from her bucket that she uncorked with one hand.

The shrine maiden poured the contents of the glass over her head, the liquid too viscous to be water. Giyuu closed his eyes and sniffed the air, and he noted that the scent of herbs and flowers now hung in the air like a thick perfume.

The Water Pillar’s gaze snapped back down to the vexatious Miko just as she filled her bucket with water from the fall. With a grace that he hadn’t realized the young woman possessed, Y/N lifted the pail over her head and tipped its contents over, allowing the water to pour down her frame, drenching her.

A cleansing ritual, Giyuu realized as he watched her repeat the process once more. And a very old one at that; he wasn’t sure many shrine maidens still partook in the rite.

Though, Giyuu supposed, it would make sense that Y/N would not only know of the outdated ceremony, but that she would practice it, given that she’d been raised by a grandmother who insisted on abiding by tradition at all cost.

He hadn’t realized that the mere observation of a cleansing rite meant that its participant would look the way Y/N did, standing in the cool spring, clad in nothing but a thin white gown that the water had nearly turned transparent. The Water Pillar’s worked to swallow around the lump that had formed in his throat as Y/N’s water-soaked kimono clung to her skin, revealing the soft, rounded curve of her backside and the delicate length of her legs that Giyuu hadn’t realized she possessed under the loose layers of her shrine outfit.

Giyuu shifted his weight in the tree, inexplicably enraptured by the Miko’s morning ritual to realize he’d startled a small bird into flight.

Y/N whipped around at the disturbance and the ravenette shrank further back into the shadows, his cheeks feeling bizarrely warm at the sight of the young woman now facing his direction.

Giyuu chanced a glance back at the Miko just as the sun broke over the horizon, its pale golden light reflecting off the calm surface of the spring, casting Y/N in the hoary glow of the cascading waterfall.

She looked…like she did not belong in this world. Her hair hung around her shoulders and down to her waist, and the spray of the waterfall clung to the strands like thousands of glittering stars. Her eyes were sharp and bright as they scanned the tree line for the source, her soft, reddened lips twisted down into an uncharacteristic frown.

Giyuu kept his assessment of her form, so stripped back and vulnerable, confined strictly to her face. It was bad enough that the sight of Y/N, standing in the luminescent water, had sent his pulse skyrocketing; he did not trust what would happen if he allowed his gaze to drop lower, to where that diaphanous kimono covered her chest.

Perhaps there was a perfectly logical explanation for his strange reaction to the image of Y/N, standing in the pool, that had nothing to do with her at all. He wondered whether some of the herbs she’d used in her cleansing oil could impart a physical effect on those exposed to their concentrated fragrance; Giyuu made a mental note to find a casual way to ask her, the next time he saw her.

Y/N turned away from him once more as she began to wade back over to the bank of the spring. Now that the sun had risen, Giyuu could spy the familiar white and red cloth of her kosode and hakama pants, folded in a neat bundle atop a small boulder.

Before the sun could chase away the shadows of the forest and reveal his presence, Giyuu turned away and retreated, willing himself not to ponder on the fact that she’d changed clothes, in the middle of a dark forest, just prior to his arrival.

Though, his commitment to not thinking about how the shrine maiden may have looked as she discarded her usual attire in favor of the flimsy bathing kimono she’d been wearing meant that Giyuu’s traitorous thoughts wandered instead to the memory of her standing hip-deep in the spring. His mind struggled to categorize the mental image of her — she was the same Y/N he’d come to know, and yet, something about her was different, though he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what it was.

The word he’d been searching for came to him not long after the sun had fully risen in the early summer sky, just as the sloped roof of his manor came into view.

Beautiful, Giyuu decided. Y/N was beautiful.

dividers from @/saradika • reblogs/comments/likes always appreciated!

[dani3lricciard0]

A Day To Remember | Daniel Ricciardo

Daniel Ricciardo x singer!reader

Summary: Daniel has recently returned to Red Bull. It's the Silverstone Grand Prix, and Daniel has a surprise in store for you.

Warnings: none but there is a brief Christian Horner appearance (I made him be nice)

Authors note: Literally no one asked, this is entirely self indulgent but I hope you enjoy <3

Silverstone Circuit buzzed with excitement as the British Grand Prix was set to begin. The sun made a rare appearance and beamed down on the tarmac, making the metallic surfaces of the Formula 1 cars glisten. Among the crowd, the tension was palpable; it was race day. Daniel Ricciardo, recently reunited with Red Bull Racing, has qualified P2, just behind his teammate Max Verstappen. Lando Norris, the home hero, started from P3.

For you, standing in the VIP area, this race was even more special. Not only were you here to support your boyfriend, Daniel, but you had been invited to present the trophies on the podium. As a renowned British singer, your presence added a touch of glamour to the event, and you couldn't wait to see Daniel shine now that he was back where he belonged.

Your day had started early, with a flurry of interviews and appearances. You had arrived at the circuit separately from Daniel, in a sleek black car, greeted by fans and photographers. Your outfit - a chic jumpsuit paired with designer sunglasses - turned heads as you made your way to the paddock. The atmosphere was electric, with team members hustling about and the smell of burning rubber in the air.

"Y/N!" Daniels voice called out, snapping you out of your reverie. You turned to see him walking towards you, a wide grin on his face. He looked great in his fireproofs, the Red Bull logo emblazoned on his chest, just as it should be.

"Hey, champ," you teased, wrapping your arms around him in a warm hug. "Ready to win today?"

"Always," he replied, giving you a quick kiss. "Even more so with you here. It's going to be a good day, I can feel it."

The race was a spectacle from start to finish. Silverstone's grandstands roared as the lights went out and the cars surged forward. Daniel had a decent start, maintaining his P2 position, not far behind Max who held on to the lead. Lando was hot on their heels, making it clear that he intended to fight for a top spot at his home race.

You watched from the VIP lounge, a mix of anxiety and excitement coursing through you. Every turn had you on the edge of your seat. The roar of the engines, the cheers of the crows, and the sight of Daniel's car chasing down Max made your heart race.

The first half of the race was intense, with Daniel and Max engaged in a thrilling battle for the lead. Max defended his position fiercely, while Daniel looked for every possible opportunity to overtake. The tension was palpable was the two Red Bull drivers pushed their cars to the limit, reminiscent of old times.

Your phone buzzed with messages from friends and family, all watching the race and sending their support. You took a moment to reply, smiling at their encouraging words, but your eyes never strayed far from the screen displaying the live feed of the race.

As the race reached its midpoint, Daniel came in for new tyres. The pit crew executed a flawless tyre change, getting him back on track with minimal time loss. Max decided not to pit, adamant he could keep pushing on his current tyres for a few more laps.

With fresh tyres and a renewed determination, Daniel began to close the gap. Lap after lap, he inched closer to Max, and the atmosphere was electric as the crowd sensed the impending battle for the lead.

On lap 40, Daniel made his move. Coming out of Copse corner, he found an opening and seized the opportunity. The two cars raced wheel to wheel down the straight, the roar of the engines echoing through the stands. Daniel braked later into Stowe, edging ahead of Max and taking the lead.

The grandstands erupted into cheers as Daniel's car pulled in front. You could hardly contain your excitement, jumping up and down with joy. The battle was far from over, but Daniel had proven himself, taking the lead when it mattered most.

The final laps were intense. Max was relentless, pushing hard to reclaim his position, while Daniel defended with everything he had. Lando, meanwhile, was closing in on the two Red Bull drivers, adding another layer of excitement to the race in front of his home crowd.

Your heart pounded as you watched Daniel skilfully navigate the circuit, maintaining position despite Max's best efforts. The crowd was on its feet, the energy palpable as the race drew to a close.

On the penultimate lap, Max made one last attempt to overtake Daniel. The two cars were side by side again, but Daniel held his nerve, keeping the inside line and forcing Max to back off. As they rounded the final corner and approached the finish line, it was clear that Daniel had done it.

Daniel crossed the line first, arms raised in triumph. The crowd erupted into cheers, and you couldn't contain your excitement, tears of joy streaming down your face.

As Daniel pulled into parc fermé, the team swarmed around him, cheering and congratulating him on a well-deserved victory. You made your way down from the VIP lounge to join the celebrations, feeling an immense surge of pride.

You found Daniel amidst the chaos, his face still flushed with the adrenaline of the race. He saw you and his smile widened, eyes sparkling with joy. "We did it!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"You were amazing out there," you replied, your voice shaky with emotion. "I'm so proud of you, Danny."

Reporters and cameras swarmed you both, capturing the celebrations. You took a step back to let Daniel have his moment with the media, watching as he answered questions with his usual charm and enthusiasm. Meanwhile, the podium ceremony was being set up, and you were guided to where you would be presenting the trophies.

The anticipation built as the ceremony began. The Australian national anthem played, and the three drivers - Daniel, Max, and Lando - stood proudly on the podium, their faces beaming with joy and exhaustion.

You stepped forward to present the trophies, first, handing the third-place trophy to your good friend Lando, who gave you a warm smile. "Great race, Lando," you said, your voice barely audible over the crowd's cheers.

"Thanks, Y/N. Means a lot coming from you," he replied, placing a hand on your shoulder as he took the trophy from your hand and raised it into the air.

Next, you presented the second-place trophy to Max, who winked playfully. "Keeping it exciting as always Max, well done," you said, handing over the heavy silver trophy.

"Thanks, Y\N. The best is yet to come," he said cryptically, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Finally, you turned to Daniel, your heart swelling with pride as you handed him the winner's trophy. He took it with a grateful smile, holding it high above his head. The crowd's applause was deafening. You turned to walk away giving them space for the traditional champagne celebration, but Max grabbed your hand, pulling you back.

Confused, you looked at Max, who grinned and gestured towards Daniel. Your boyfriend was down on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand. The crowd fell silent, the moment suspended in time.

"Y/N," Daniels began, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. "Fro the moment we met, you have been my biggest supporter, my best friend, and the love of my life. I can't imagine my future without you. Will you marry me?"

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, words escaping you. "Yes, Daniel, yes!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Daniel slipped the ring onto your finger, and the crowd erupted once more, louder than ever. Max and Lando joined in the celebration, spraying champagne with reckless abandon. You and Daniel were soon drenched, laughing and holding each other close as the fizzy liquid rained down on you both,

After the podium ceremony, the celebrations continued in the Red Bull hospitality suite. The entire team gathered to congratulate you and Daniel, the suite decorated with balloons and banners, and a large cake sat on the table in the centre.

Christian Horner raised a toast to you both, his eyes twinkling with pride. "To Daniel and Y/N," he said, lifting his glass. "May your future be as bright as today, filled with love, success and countless victories."

The room erupted in cheers as you clicked glasses, the taste of champagne sweet on your lips. You glanced at Daniel, his eyes never leaving yours. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with happiness.

As the night wore on, the party showed no signs of slowing down. Music played, and people danced and laughed, celebrating not just the race but the love story that had captured everyone's hearts. You and Daniel were inseparable, sharing your happiness with everyone around you.

You stepped outside, needing to take a breather from the overwhelming joy and excitement. The cool night air was a welcome relief, and you leaned against the railing, taking in the serene view of the now mostly empty paddock under the moonlight. Daniel joined you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Can you believe all of this?" you asked, turning to glance at him.

"It's surreal,' he admitted, swiping your hair out of your face. "But it's perfect. Today was perfect."

You smiled up at him laid your head back against his chest. "Today was the best day of my life," you sighed, replaying the day in your mind.

"This is just the start, Y/N. We have so much to look forward to" Daniel replied, placing a kiss to your temple.

"I can't wait, Danny. You make me the happiest woman alive."

[magneticflower]

When is it not raining in Ketterdam?

I got rather inspired and wanted to draw Kanej since it had been a while. It snowballed into me also writing a little thing to go along with it. I hope you enjoy both sjsj. The rest of the writing will be under readmore~

 It almost feels like old times, being out on the streets of the Barrel in the wee hours of the morning instead of at the Crow Club to meet her. Almost. Except he wasn't making his way through the Barrel to scout out a target or to discuss intel without the risk of being heard with her, and they weren't teenagers anymore. He was heading towards the docks for a goodbye. It wasn't the first time he had done so in the last five years, and provided her Saints kept watch like she said they did, it wouldn't be the last. 

He made his way down to berth twenty-two and could already see her waiting for him at the railing on the side of her ship, her familiar figure silhouetted by what streams of moonlight could make it through the smoggy sky that encased the Barrel most evenings. He preferred the times when she was silhouetted by the sunsets that only seemed to be visible when she returned, but he couldn't begrudge her for leaving to where she was at her best. He just hated how he felt in the hours leading up to and after her departure. Kaz pulled himself together just fine after, but he had never entirely managed to shake himself of those hours. Maybe one day.

"Punctual as always, Kaz," she said as he made his way to stand in front of her along the railing.

"I know how you like your sleep. I won't keep you long."

"I don't mind losing some sleep, not if it is for you. Saints know I have done it plenty of times before."

"I distinctly remember several instances of you grumbling about that."

Inej rolled her eyes, "Are you trying to keep this brief because you've got somewhere you would rather be, Kaz?"

No, there wasn't a place in the Barrel that he would rather be than right here, right now. Perhaps only his office, but only if she was there with him. "I am trying out being considerate."

"Not what I asked."

Kaz exhaled through his nose, "You know the answer to that, Inej."

Luckily for him, she wasn't keen on being as obstinate as he usually was, so instead of insisting on a real answer, she simply asked, "Then why are you so far?"

He eyed her momentarily, "How could I be closer than I already am while on the dock?"

Inej's eyes looked down and his own followed suit. "Are you telling me you want me to climb up those crates?"

She looked back up, "Well, I may or may not have had my crew leave those right there for that very reason. Come to whatever conclusion that gives you."

"It was raining earlier. They're wet."

"When is it not raining in Ketterdam?"

"Right now."

"Kaz." She gives him a familiar look that tells him she is done with the back and forth. He either does it or doesn't. Of course he does it.

"If I fall on my ass climbing these..." he muttered as he made his way up the boxes to fulfill her request to come closer.

Inej laughed, "If you do perhaps you'll gain greater appreciation for what I used to do for you. At the very least you will leave me with a great memory to reflect on during the less than favorable nights when I'm gone."

Kaz was too busy making his way up to give a retort. It wasn't as if these were particularly difficult, they were just a few measly crates, but his leg never liked this sort of weather and it was proving to stand by that.

"Now that wasn't so bad was it?" She said once he fully made it up, no unceremonious fall to be had.

"It wasn't particularly good either. We're not teenagers anymore," he countered, shifting his weight to better accommodate his leg.

Inej rested her arms on the railing so that she could lean closer to him, a grin on her face. She still had to look down at him even though he stood on the crates now. Regardless, they were closer, just like she wanted. He had wanted it too.

"You're only twenty two, Kaz, you're hardly ancient. Besides, you are the one that declines to simply come on the ship when we say our goodbyes. I know you said it is because it might wake the others, but one day you will have to oblige me, since you are giving being considerate a chance." He knew the last sentence wasn't just a request to come aboard for goodbyes. One day she wanted him to come with her. Maybe one day he would.

"It would be louder. I am not the Wraith."

"No, I suppose you are not. You're just the crow that keeps coming by because she didn't have the good sense not to feed him," she retorts, leaning forward a little more.

"I don't recall you giving me any information recently, Wraith."

"I suppose not," she said as she moved her hands down to place them on either side of his face to prompt him to lean up as she leaned closer to him as well, "Give me a minute to think of something," she finished as she closed the gap between their lips. It was soft and slow. perhaps because the two knew that this was where the goodbye started.

Almost as if Ketterdam couldn't handle the silence of their moment, Inej began to hear the pattering of the beginning of the rainy morning ahead of her. She pulled back, though only enough to stop the kiss, but not enough to let the rain hit his face. Not enough to ruin this.

"Kaz, it's raining."

"When is it not raining in Ketterdam?"

[unactive-shroom]

Hi!! Could I get prompt #8 w/ Kaz Brekker?? Thx!!

(Oh and a fluff ending if possible)!!

*Prompt #*8: Trouble in Paradise ♡ 

“You and your partner spent the day before Valentine’s arguing and yelling. Will you make it up before Valentine’s is through? Or will this years Valentine be the worst yet..?”

Character: Kaz Brekker. Valentine's Event: Here

You turned over in bed, alone. Yesterday you and Kaz had argued and yelled for what felt like hours. You were just tired of Kaz not talking to you - never telling you before a mission would happen, not telling you about a mission he had earlier - heck, you found out from Jesper that Kaz had gotten badly hurt on his bad leg during a mission that you had heard nothing about. That was what had started the argument. You had always respected Kaz’s wishes, never complaining about the limited hours you had to spend with him, or judging him for the things he’d done, the blood on his hands. You kept your distance when he needed it, never complained about only being able to brush hands with him, occasionally a kiss. All you asked was that he told you before he went on a mission, in case it would be the last time you saw him alive. The argument had ended when Kaz had said that he didn’t need you, didn’t need anything to drag him down. Silence, thick like tar had enveloped the crow club after that. You both stared at each other, and while Kaz’s face remained unchanged, you could see the regret trickle into his eyes as he realised what he had said. You had simply turned on your heel and left, heading for Nina’s flat across the city. She let you stay the night - no questions asked.

It was now early morning, grey and wet, rain showering down on the pavements casting an even more miserable shadow on the morning. You left Nina’s apartment without waking her, and headed down to 2nd harbour, knowing Kaz avoided the area because of the increase amount of Stadwatch stationed there. You didn’t bother check if Inej was trailing you - Kaz was planning a big heist tomorrow, and Inej would be trailing their target for the day. At least, that’s what Jesper had told you. Kaz didn’t tell you anything anymore. Anyways, even if Inej had been trailing you, you wouldn’t be able to tell. The only time you stopped was to buy some fried potatoes for breakfast from a street vendor, the greasy warmth being your only source of heat against the blustery Kerch weather. Upon arriving at 2nd Harbour, you simply stood at the wall, watching the ships come and go from the harbour wall. You needed time to think. Was your relationship with Kaz actually working? When did things start to go wrong? He was right, you were dragging him down, holding him back. Sourly dumping the remainder of your fried potatoes in the trash can behind you, you turned and went to walk down the steps leading to the narrow strip of grey, lifeless sand beside the water, before slipping on the wet cobblestones and landing in a heap at the end of the stairs. You cursed as you unsteadily stood up, noticing a long gash up the length of your forearm. Great, you thought bitterly, just what I needed. Luckily there was few people around and no one had seen your tumble, but it was motivation enough to leave your brooding and return to Nina’s to patch yourself up.

Just as you were coming up the back entrance to Nina’s flat, you heard his voice. “Nina, if you don’t tell me, I will gut out this whole flat and throw it all in the Kerch sea - where is y/n?”. He was yelling, and sounded strange, concern laced in his voice. “Inej was suppposed to be trailing her, said she came here, but left early this morning for second harbour. By the time I got there, she was gone. Where did she go? Did she leave Ketterdam? God damn it, Nina, just tell me already!” You briefly considered leaving Kaz to wonder where you were, show him how it felt when he was gone, but you thought better of it. Pushing open the back door to the kitchen, an immediate silence enveloped the kitchen. Kaz and Nina looked at you, wide eyed. You watched his eyes travel from your eyes, to your wild, tangled hair from falling down the stairs, to the dried blood over the gash on your arm. He made an immediate start and limped over to you, gently taking your arm and inspecting the wound. “…Did someone do this?” He asked, looking at you with intense eyes. You looked back at him, anger growing from the pits of your stomach. How could he just waltz back in here and expect everything to be fine between them? You pulled your arm away harshly, saying nothing, and made your way up the stairs to Nina’s spare bedroom. As you were reaching the top, you heard Nina say “I think you really messed up this time, Kaz.”.

You sat on the edge of the bed, trying to tie the bandage around your arm with one hand and your teeth, blinking back tears of frustration. A tentative knock sounded at the door. You ignored it, turning to try get a better angle to tie the bandage around your arm. The door opened and shut, and despite having your back turned to him, you knew it was Kaz. His all too familiar cane clicked against the hardwood floor as he approached you. Both of you said nothing as he sat down beside you on the bed, your back still turned to him. After a few minutes of you still struggling with the bandage, he stood up, and knelt in front of you. You knew it must’ve been hell to kneel on his bad leg, but still, you couldn’t meet his eyes. “Please, y/n.” His hand gently took your arm again, and he gently wiped away the dried blood on your arm that you had missed in your frustration. He bandaged your arm carefully, and as he sat back up beside you, he kept a gentle hold of your arm. Carefully turning your face to look at him, he wiped away the tears that were cascading down your face and said simply, “I’m sorry.”, and for the first time in a very long time, he opened his arms and hesitated, before letting you cry onto his shoulder. He said very simply how he didn’t mean what he had said, and apologised for not communicating with you. He didn’t need a grand display of apology, you knew he meant every word of what he said .

Before long, you and Kaz had left Nina’s house and were walking arm in arm along the exchange. “I did have flowers, but they kind of got trampled on my way here.” he muttered, glancing at you. You looked at him incredulously. “I’m sorry, Kaz Brekker - ‘Dirtyhands’, ‘Bastard of the Barell’- was walking around Ketterdam with flowers? Why on earth -?” He elbowed you, looking sour. “For you, obviously. You think I enjoyed looking like a sappy moron walking around? Look, I’ll get you something else instead. How about-” He pointed at a very expensive looking diamond necklace in a shop window. “-that? We’ve broken in there before, it’s an easy job, just say the word and it’s yours.” You pulled him along, laughing. “Kaz, we both know well that I don’t need a gift as an apology. We just had an argument, that’s all”. “You don’t know what day it is? February 14th, y/n. Don’t tell me you got brain damage when you took a trip down those stairs?” You looked at him blankly, not registering the date until - “Oh! It’s Valentine’s!” You gasped, and Kaz shook his head, smiling. “Wow, Kaz, you really are terrible, fighting with your partner on Valentine’s day.” He chuckled, giving you a funny look. ”Yeah, out of all the things I’ve done in my life, that’s the most unforgivable.” “mhm! you owe me big time”.

Needless to say, after a whole evening spent with Kaz talking and playing cards, you woke up to a pretty piece of jewellery sitting on your pillow, with a note that reads “Maybe don’t wear it out for a few weeks, they’ll probably be looking for it. Lunch at Cilla’s at 12?”

A.n: Happy Valentines! I hope Kaz wasn’t too OOC, It’s been awhile since I’ve read any of the grishaverse books. Thanks for requesting!

[pabtsblueliving]

I loved Come to Papa! I have the biggest crush on Chibs 😍. The man gets hotter as he gets older! Can I request for Chibs, maybe a first date with him??? He's trying to impress her. Like it's hard, right? Thanks!

Baby, I'm Yours

First date with Chibs

WC: 1.2K

Warnings: smoking, drinking, making out, like one curse word.

Hello, who doesn't have the biggest crush on him, hard not to. He was hot then and is still hot now. I started and finished when I got back from work, been wanting to write this all day. Bit rushed, but thank you for requesting, enjoy!

xoxo pabtsblueliving 💋

pabtsblueliving © 2023

You were nervous. A date.

You fiddled with the edge of your clay colored dress, sitting in your living room waiting to hear the motorcycle revving down the street. You were pleasantly surprised when Chibs Telford had asked you on a date.

You worked at the tattoo shop all the Sons had come through when they needed a new tattoo, or a new prospect was finally being initiated. You’d seen chibs a few times, never interacting too much unless it was a hello in that gorgeous voice, and a wink. A smile returned from you to him.

A few days ago he’d stopped in by himself, and you were cleaning up the shop. 

“Chibs, hey what can I do for you?” You smiled to him,

“Hi Lass, how’s the day?” He responded, “I’ve got a question, mayb’ bit out tha’ blue” He took his sunglasses off, put them on the counter, and leaned against it.

“Yeah, of course, what’s up?” You furrowed your brows, and taking off your gloves

“Ehm, would you want’a go on a date with me? Dinner, drinks, take yeh on tha’ bike?” He let out a breath he was seemingly holding since he’d arrived

Your eyes widened, and you smiled a bit, “Oh! Uhm, yeah, Chibs,” You looked down and smiled, then looking back up at him, “I would love to.” You beamed.

He gave you a smile, and a chuckle, “Alright, lady. Then uh, its a date” He picked up his sunglasses and began to walk out, confident in his stride. 

“Chibs, hold on.” You chased after him, meeting him at the bike.

He sat down and looked up, you continued, “When and where?” You chuckled a bit, he seemed to miss that part.

“Oh, ehm,” He let out a puff of air, “How about, tomorrow, 6pm, I’ll pick yeh up?” 

“It’s a date” You smiled and turned away, closing down the shop as he rode away.

And now, you find yourself, where we started. 

You fiddled with the edge of your clay colored dress, sitting in your living room waiting to hear the motorcycle revving down the street. You were pleasantly surprised when Chibs Telford had asked you on a date.

You’d just finished your third cigarette, in 30 minutes and a cocktail. You weren’t used to dates. You kept to yourself, provided your service of body art to the Sons, went out with friends sometimes, but that's really it. 

You let out a shaky breath. Did your hair look stupid, was your dress wrinkled, did your boots match your outfit? You were ripped from your thoughts when you heard the bike. His bike. You flew out of your seat, finding the nearest mirror and smoothing out your hair, adding lipliner and gloss to your lips.

He removed his gloves at the door, rapping his scarred knuckles on the door. Those three knocks finally pulled you into reality. You smoothed your dress and opened the door.

Upon opening the door was Chibs. He looked different, but handsome. He had black slacks with boots, a black button up that had more than a few buttons undone, and his cut. God, he looked great. 

You smiled and pulled your purse to your shoulder, “What do you think,” He started, “Clean up ok, for an old crow” His hands went up, presenting himself.

You laughed, “Clean up maybe too well” You winked. “Ready?” He held out his hand and a helmet. You nodded, strapped on your helmet and climbed behind Chibs, wrapping your arms around his sturdy frame.

And off you went, to the best date of your life. You went to an outdoor, casual, restaurant in the desert, 20 minutes from home. You had a chatty dinner, followed with a few drinks. You didn't want it to end.

You swallowed a sip of your cocktail, and took a drag of a cigarette, handing it to chibs as he leaned back in his chair taking it. The sun was setting on the desert, and he looked incredible.

“So,” You said, blowing out the smoke, “I’m surprised you’d asked me on a date.” 

He took a drag and chuckled, “Why’s tha’, Lass?” He raised a brow.

“I don't know, we’d never really spoken too much before, here and there. A wink and a smile maybe…” a smile broke out as you spoke, and he laughed.

“Well, em, I’ve had my eye on yeh for quite some time, Darlin’. Just recently grew the balls to finally talk to you and ask you.” He winked, bastard.

“Well, then thank god for your…balls…” You began to giggle and he chuckled, handing you the cigarette back.

As you took a final drag he spoke up, “How about we get outta here, love?” 

He handed you your helmet and put his sunglasses on, leading you back to the bike, and you rode off back to your home. 

He walked you to your door, a large, warm, hand at the small of your back leading you gently. You dug for your keys, nervous about his sudden silence.

“Damn…keys…uh,” You chuckled out an apology, and looked back. Finding him with his hands in his pockets, looking right at you. 

You finally grabbed your keys, and asked, brows furrowing, “What?” you questioned.

“Nothin’...I just eh, had fun…” He stalked closer, the space between you and your door, and him was getting increasingly smaller.

“I had a lot of fun too, Philip. I’d love to do it again sometime…soon…” You dropped your purse on the floor, and he trapped you between him and the door, arm above your head. You smelled his cologne, hoping it sticks to every item of clothing you're wearing.

You began, “so maybe like in a few days we can plan someth-” you started, cut off by a soft “shut up” 

You felt the chill of his rings on your cheek, and the smell of the leather and cologne on his skin, tasting the cigarette you shared not long ago, before you reached up and grabbed the shoulders of his cut. You quite literally melted into his kiss.

The arm above your head moved to the small of your back, bringing you in, This wasn't a normal kiss. It was sweet, slow, nothing too heated or sexy. 

You were soon interupped by the shrill of his cellphone, and he pulled away, breathing heavy as he sighed and answered the phone, while you remained in his grip. 

“Yeh?....Alright’ well, mate yer fecking interruptin’....You need me right now? Where?....” He answered on the phone, keeping eye contact with you then sighing, “Alright, Jesus christ, Tig give me twenty minutes.” He slammed the phone shut, forehead falling onto yours.

“I gotta go, lass…” He whispered, bringing a hand and stroking your hair.

“It’s ok, do what you’ve got to do Phil.” You gave him a wink and a smile, kissing right below his scar on his cheek

He winked back, and began to walk to his bike, “So, ill see yeh’ again, yes?” He yelled from down the driveway.

“After tonight, baby I’m yours.” You yelled back, a smile etched into your skin that would remain there for the whole night.

[flem17ng]

Could you write basically anything for Jessie Fleming? I’m obsessed with her atm x

Chance encounters JFlem x Reader

Thank you anon! I have the biggest crush on her rn it’s not even funny. I hope you enjoy (also please note that i’m still getting used to writing in second person so i’m sorry if the grammar is insane)

chelsea!jessie fleming x Arsenal!reader

summary: reader has just signed for Arsenal as a midfielder. she meets jessie at her starting debut against chelsea. a few chance encounters after and their relationship builds. 

warnings: Kinda very long. 

word count: 3.2k

“Y/n if you don’t hurry Jonas is gonna find someone to fill that starting spot!”

“no he won’t Leah, don’t be a dick.”

Leah laughed from where she leaned against the doorway. You two were the only ones left in there, everyone else was on their way through the tunnels to warm up. 

“come on kid, you’re great! there is a reason why you’re on this team ok. remember that”

You sighed but nodded, Leah was right as always. But that didn’t stop the feeling of nerves that crept into your belly and up your back and neck. The last time you had been this nervous was… well you couldn’t remember when. 

You stood and corrected your shin pad slightly before straightening up. 

“I know.” you breathed and took a deep breath, “ok. i’m good. let’s go williamson!”

You slapped her on the back at you stepped passed her and into the hallway. 

on the other side was the other team, chelsea’s, locker room. 

“god i hate this stadium, they put us so close together!” Leah whined as you both walked past. You didn’t answer, instead peering into the room. you caught sight of a short brown ponytail and a blue kit before you were rudely tugged forwards. 

“jeez Leah! you’re the one who stayed behind to wait for me! what’s with all the impatience” you mumbled but trudged on. It was a big game, you wanted to get warm. 

***

Walking out as part of the opening lineup was the most surreal experience you had ever had. The crowed roared like a stormy sea of blue and red. Chelsea fans screamed at their captain while the gooners ran through player chants. Across from you, on chelsea’s side, stood the opposing attacking midfielder. You could feel your palms sweating, your heart racing, but you spared a glance at the girl- before promptly almost stopping breathing. 

Jessie Fleming was standing about a metre away from you: eyes forward, jaw clenched, hair in a neat ponytail. You’d seen her around before (and if you were being really honest, you’d always thought she was gorgeous) But now she was standing right next to you. 

“head in the game y/l/n” Katie called from behind you. 

Jessie looked at you before you could look away, and curled her lips up in a friendly smile. You felt your stomach flip at the sight and gave her an awkward wave in return before facing the front. 

So what if she was gorgeous? So what if she happened to be the player Jonas told you to mark? You had a derby the win. 

***

Look. You hadn’t seen her coming so really, was it your fault that you ended up on top of her in the last 5 minutes of the game? maybe. 

The game was as tough as you knew it was going to be: Kerr was running up front aiming for the net while the chelsea defenders had locked into a solid formation. By half time it was still nil all. By second half both teams had gotten reckless; Beth took a hard tumble that had the crowd on their feet while Ashleigh Lawrence on the blues side had been sent off with a suspected concussion. 

so there you were, midfielding in a violent London derby, 2 all with just minutes left to go. 

You touched the ball and took off running, hoping to pass it off to Katie. Distantly you could hear Steph screaming at you (“MAN ON, MAN ON y/n!!”) but before you could proses her words the ball was stolen in a lightning slide-tackle. The force took you off balence and you stumbled forward into the player who was just starting to stand up. 

Time seemed to slow down as you fell forwards: the ball rolled away, the grass was a lot greener up close and oh god were you falling on the person you thought you were?!

You hit something hard and warm with a thud. 

“ow” Jessie groaned, having been sandwiched between the ground and yourself. 

You looked at her, horrified at the situation, and found her with her eyes shut and grimacing. 

“oh my god, I’m so sorry” the whistle had blown but you ignored it, scrambling off the Canadian and holding out your hand to help her up. 

she cracked open her eye and smiled lopsidedly. 

“hey i’m the one that tackled you!”

You shuffled, hand still outstretched. Jessie laughed and look your hand with a firm grip, letting herself be pulled up. 

“true. Maybe i should be rolling around on the ground a bit more to prove that. Lord knows we need that penalty” You grinned at her and slapped her arm before pulling away. 

“You wish gooner”

The whistle blew again and you both turned to the referee. you still had some time in this game. 

***

Jessie limped into the Blues locker room, hair falling out of her pony tail and cheeks a flaming pink. The game hadn’t gone in her favour, something she took hard. The tumble at the end of the game had left her feeling beaten and bruised. 

“jess! nice work ok there mate!” Sam slapped her shoulder with a smile. Jessie just nodded and began to pull off her shirt with one hand. At this point in the night she just wanted to get home with her dog and a large tub of chocolate ice cream. Slowly she packed up her stuff, pulling off her socks and shoes. she was halfway through her post game ritual when guro sat with a thud next to her. 

“tough tumble you took just then”

“oh it was nothing really. just a badly timed tackle is all.” Jessie shrugged. the tackle had been perfect but she wasn’t about to blame you for it. 

“have you met her before. y/n?” Guro questioned. 

Jessie felt her cheeks go red again and hoped she wouldn’t notice. 

“not properly no. we’re in similar circles”

“hm. she’s cute” Guro winked and stood, grabbing her bag. “see ya on Tuesday jess!” 

Jessie opened her mouth, thought, and shut it again. She felt her ears burn a little. of course she knew you where cute, she’d thought that the second she had seen your transfer announcement, she’d known you were gorgeous the moment she had seen you in a bar months ago during a holiday break. And she’d been thinking about you since she saw you sitting up on the starting roster for the derby. 

A knock on the locker room door startled her out of her (gay) thoughts. 

“hey Fleming? Sorry i know i’m technically not allowed to be here…” Your voice carried through the almost empty room. You stood in the doorway, looking very out of place in your arsenal jacket. 

“no not at all. come in please” jessie managed to get out, half in shock and half in disbelief. You walked forward to where she sat, one leg stretched out, kit half on, bag half packed. 

“i just wanted to make sure you were ok. I fell pretty hard on you back there” You fiddled with your fingers and glanced down at jessie as if checking for any bruises. 

“eh, no worse than anything else. Just tired mostly” She looked up at you and you noticed how dark her eyes looked. she did seem tired, weighed down even. You hummed and sat gingerly on the bench next to her. the change room was empty now, and quiet. Jessie rubbed her knee with a wince  You watched the side of her face for a second before reaching into your own bag and pulling out a small ice pack that you kept for emergency’s. Gently, you touched her hand and moved it off her knee, placing the ice pack down instead. 

“thanks” jessie muttered, holding the ice pack to her joint. 

“Good job tonight.” you half whispered, scared to raise your voice in the quiet room, “i had a lot of fun playing with you” You stood up and brushed your pants awkwardly. Jessie smiled and nodded but didn’t look convinced. 

“see you around y/l/n”

“bet on it Fleming”

***

*ARSENAL WIN LONDON DERBY. 3-2 AGAINST CHELSEA*

the newspaper sat on the park bench, a light wind rustling its pages and the recently fallen leaves on the path. You smiled when you saw it, remembering the excitement of the game, the final goal and the bar night that came after. You went to pick up the paper when a dog started barking. 

“i’m so sorry he doesn’t normally do that” a woman called apologetically. 

“no problem really” you stated looking up from the paper to the golden retriever that was sniffing at your feet. “aren’t you a handsome boy?” you cooed before looking up at the owner. 

“y/n? oh my god i didn’t recognise you out of your kit!” Jessie grinned at you, both hands on her dog’s leash as she attempted to keep him from running off. She was wearing a sweatshirt and loose jeans, her hair was out in waves around her jaw. 

“Jessie gosh i didn’t see you!” you hoped you didn’t sound as breathless as you felt, though you doubted it considering how hot your cheeks were. 

She looked down at the paper on the bench and snorted.

“still revelling in your glory then?” you looked down, guilty. “It’s alright, it was a hell of a debut”

“even if i fell on my face at the end?”

“I believe you fell on my face actually” Jessie giggled, her cheeks going rosy. 

“hey now i said i was sorry!”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing did i?” You looked at her with raised eyebrows, she just raised hers back. You would have thought she was bantering if it wasn’t for the steady blush going from her freckled cheeks to her ears. 

The dog woofed loudly, snapping you both back to reality. 

“um so, free day for you aswell?” Jessie asked now trying to look anywhere but at you. 

“yeah. Coach let us have a day off for ‘celebration’.”

“hate to break it to you Y/l/n but this isn’t the pub” Jessie motioned around the park (relatively empty because it was a Monday morning)

“Well… I would much rather be out and about than in some stuffy pub at 9am. Why are you free?”

“I think Emma wanted to give us time to reflect on the game. I’m sure we’ll be in for a lecture tomorrow.” Jessie pulled the leed and motioned for you to walk with her. The park was one of those little ones you only find in London: gated and stuck between large apartments and tiny cafes. 

“you played amazingly though.” You stated, sticking your hands in your pockets. Jessie snorted and shook her head. 

“I played pretty shit. You don’t have to butter me up.”

“I’m not! I’ve seen you play a million times before and yesterday was definitely one of the best”

“a million times? really? I didn’t know you where a fan” jessie smirked. 

“oh please Fleming don’t look so smug or i’ll find some other boring Canadian to bother”

Jessie scoffed and looked at you with feigned anger, “Boring? You’re the one spending your celebration day in a park with the enemy” 

You laughed and nodded in agreement. The truth was: You had been invited for breakfast with the team but crowds weren’t really your thing. And maybe you couldn’t get a certain brunette off your mind but that wasn’t anyone’s business. 

“well would it make it any better if i asked the enemy to get some coffee with me?”

***

The cafe, like the park, was empty. an old man sat in the corner with a crossword and the teenager at the counter looked half asleep on his feet. The dog was allowed in and now sat peacefully by jessie’s feet, his big brown eyes looking out the window for a squirrel to watch. 

“what’s his name?” You asked, tipping your head towards the retriever. 

“moose” 

“moose? oh my god you’re so Canadian. Next you’re gonna tell me you have a cat called maple syrup.” Jessie laughed and shook her head. 

“i do have a cat back home- but her name is Bear.”

“oh my god that’s almost worse.” you laughed and patted moose on the head. “you like animals then?”

Jessie’s eyes lit up and she leaned closer. 

“i love them. anything in nature! hiking, camping. And any animal i love!” Her eyes sparkled and she took a sip of her drink (cold brew, an order a friend from the Canadian team had introduced to her). 

“wait yeah i forgot. You’re crazy smart aren’t you?” You asked. Of course she was, smart, talented, god damn ethereal in the morning sunlight and apparently an animal lover aswell. 

“well… i went to university. engineering, environmental science.” she smiled sheepishly, “it’s funny because i majored in mechanical engineering but i would love to have a farm one day” She smiled thinking about it. You pictured it for a moment: Jessie in a flannel and cowboy hat, dog by her side and an axe or something in her hand. 

“I think you would be good at that” You responded, trying not to think about lumber jack jessie for too long. 

She smiled and took another long sip from her cup. 

“I didn’t know you lived near here?” Jessie asked. 

“yeah I’ve been staying with Leah for a few weeks. I’m hoping to get an apartment within a month or so though.” rooming with leah was harder than it sounded. she was high maintenance. “what about you? do you live with anyone? boyfriend?”

jessie snorted,  her coffee almost spraying over the table. She looked at you for a moment with a raised eyebrow before realising you weren’t kidding. 

“oh you’re serious? No i don’t have a boyfriend. I um. No. i don’t… I don’t really do boys at all really” Jessie blushed and shook her head. 

“OH! oh god my bad! I mean neither do i. I didn’t want to assume, you know get my hopes up-“ You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth. 

“get your hopes up eh?” jessie smirked. You panicked for a second, Looking at her and then the door and then the old man. Jeez that was real smooth. 

“What i mean is: Sometimes you just don’t know. I didn’t want to hope that you… That you were gay because we might not relate right!” was it hot in the cafe? you were pretty sure you were sweating. Did jessie buy it? why did she look disappointed. It was at that moment that your phone began to ring. 

“Look jess i’ll have to catch you later! Leah is wondering why i didn’t get the coffee beans she told me to get!”

“Leah doesn’t drink coffee”

“yes. right. well i still must be off” you got up and handed your card to the waiter, paying for both you and jessie’s drinks without a thought. Jessie watched you for a moment feeling a little hurt. Did you have a problem with her being gay? That didn’t make sense but she couldn’t think of another reason that you had gone cold. 

“Alright. Thanks for the coffee eh? I’ll pay you back another time.”

“sure. another time Fleming” you smiled and patter Moose one last time before heading out the door leaving jessie both confused, slightly hurt and all together very queer. 

***

It was Millie that ended up dragging her to the club a few weeks later. If it was up to her, Jessie would have stayed in watching star wars with a bowl of popcorn. But alas, her Captain had other plans and so she found herself, half drunk and grumpy in a crowded booth on a friday night. She was wearing a black button down shirt and slacks (the only smart outfit she owned that wasn’t sweats and a tshirt). The music was Thumping, Lights flashing and her head was feeling way too light for this early in the evening. 

“hey jeff. I think i spotted your girl on the dance floor earlier” Sam shouted teasingly. By now the whole team had noticed jessie’s little crush. 

“she’s not my girl sam. She literally ran away when she found out i was gay” Jessie rolled her eyes and sunk further into her seat. So maybe she had been thinking about that day at the cafe a little more than normal. 

“oh my god you’re an idiot fleming.” Guro stated. “she’s gay! She blushes like an idiot every-time you’re around! go find her and dance!”

“yeah right. i’m going to dance but just to get away from you” jessie stood and walked into the dance floor, finding the music and letting herself move further away from her friends in the booth. It was all she could think about for the last few weeks. Every post she saw about you, every song made her feel dizzy. She felt like a fool. 

“Jessie? I didn’t know you would be out tonight” Your voice cut through the music and jessie turned sharply to face you, her mouth falling open. You were wearing a tight dress that clung to your curves, the lights of the club lit up your face in strange ways, highlighting your lips, your eyes… jessie froze. 

“look jess i feel really bad about that day. I was being an idiot. I don’t know why i freaked out the way i did. I mean of course i wanted you to be gay! You’re the most amazingly beautiful woman i’ve ever seen! god i’m just yapping now but-“

“dance with me” Jessie cut you off, eyes still wide as she watched you. 

“pardon?”

“dance with me y/n”

She stepped closer into you her hands coming to rest on your waist where she ran her nails softly over the silk of your dress. The music was loud and fast yet you swayed together, impossibly close. 

you put your hands in her neck, your fingers tangling into the roots of her hair making her eyes flutter closed. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you laughed nervously. Jessie’s eyes were on yours, pupils large and dark. The crowd melted away as she pushed forward and kissed you. 

It was as if all the air had been sucked from your lungs. Her lips were soft and warm and tasted like mixer and vodka. Her grip tightened on your waist and you kissed her back hard. Your finger slipped into her hair as she gasped into your mouth. It was hot and messy and you needed it. You kissed her like a woman starved. 

When you finally broke apart you breathed heavily, mouth pink and cheeks flushed. 

“fuck” she gasped, her eyes glued to your mouth. 

“yeah” you laughed cradling her face in your hands. 

“for the record i think you’re really beautiful.” jessie laughed, suddenly looking bashful. You grinned and placed another kiss on her swollen lips. 

“let’s get out of here Fleming. I think I need to show you just how beautiful you are”

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

What in the "hell" is going on with Rickon Stark?

Consider the moment when Rickon Stark ventured into the Winterfell crypts and spoke with what he believed to be his father:

“Shaggy,” a small voice called. When Bran looked up, his little brother was standing in the mouth of Father’s tomb. With one final snap at Summer’s face, Shaggydog broke off and bounded to Rickon’s side. “You let my father be,” Rickon warned Luwin. “You let him be.” “Rickon,” Bran said softly. “Father’s not here.” “Yes he is. I saw him.” Tears glistened on Rickon’s face. “I saw him last night.” “In your dream …?” Rickon nodded. “You leave him. You leave him be. He’s coming home now, like he promised. He’s coming home.”

Bran VII, AGOT

Prior to this encounter, Bran had revealed that the three-eyed crow had visited his dreams the night before, guiding him to the crypts where he spoke with Ned's ghost. Bran's ability to foresee Ned's impending death isn't unexpected—after all, he is a greenseer.

But what about Rickon? Is he a greenseer too? Well,

“In a sense. Those you call the children of the forest have eyes as golden as the sun, but once in a great while one is born amongst them with eyes as red as blood, or green as the moss on a tree in the heart of the forest. By these signs do the gods mark those they have chosen to receive the gift. The chosen ones are not robust, and their quick years upon the earth are few, for every song must have its balance. But once inside the wood they linger long indeed. A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. Greenseers.”

Bran III, ADWD

Rickon himself hasn't been explicitly marked as one, but ADWD tells us that his direwolf, Shaggydog, has the eyes of a greenseer:

He had a pack as well, once. Five they had been, and a sixth who stood aside. Somewhere down inside him were the sounds the men had given them to tell one from the other, but it was not by their sounds he knew them. He remembered their scents, his brothers and his sisters. They all had smelled alike, had smelled of pack, but each was different too. His angry brother with the hot green eyes was near, the prince felt, though he had not seen him for many hunts. Yet with every sun that set he grew more distant, and he had been the last. The others were far scattered, like leaves blown by the wild wind.

While Shaggydog's green eyes hint at a connection to greenseers, this alone doesn't fully explain what's going on with Rickon. There seems to be something deeper—an affinity with death itself.

More than any other character, Rickon spends a lot of time in the Winterfell crypts. We start hearing about this by Bran's sixth AGoT chapter, when the boys lean that Robb has to go south - a journey from which he will never return. Upon hearing the news, it's quite notable that Rickon instinctively seeks solace among the dead Stark kings. What's even more interesting is this:

“Listen to Maester Luwin’s counsel, and take care of Rickon. Tell him that I’ll be back as soon as the fighting is done.” Rickon had refused to come down. He was up in his chamber, red-eyed and defiant. “No!” he’d screamed when Bran had asked if he didn’t want to say farewell to Robb. “NO farewell!” “I told him,” Bran said. “He says no one ever comes back.”

Bran VI, AGOT.

For whatever reason, Rickon seems to have a rather heightened sense of death. Which brings us back to his direwolf, Shaggydog.

It just doesn't make sense to me. Why does Rickon's direwolf, of all the wolves, have unique coloring alongside Jon’s Ghost? Ghost’s white fur makes sense given Jon's outsider status and central role in the story. But why Shaggydog? Shouldn't Bran, with his greenseer abilities, have the "special" wolf? Instead, it’s Shaggydog, with his jet-black fur and green eyes, who stands out.

Given Rickon’s frequent presence in the Stark crypts, it seems possible that GRRM is suggesting Rickon has a spiritual connection to the dead—perhaps even serving in a role akin to a guardian, considering his apparent communion with the deceased. Several mythological figures come to mind as potential inspirations for this role.

One such figure is Anubis, the well-known Egyptian deity associated with death and the afterlife. 

Anubis is commonly depicted either as a man with the head of a jackal or as a black jackal or dog. He plays a crucial role in the mummification process and guides souls to the afterlife.

He has a less well-known brother, Wepwawet, who is tasked with "opening the way" for the dead on their journey to the afterlife. While Anubis is traditionally shown as black, Wepwawet is often depicted as white or grey. This stark contrast evokes the imagery of the Stark direwolves: Grey Wind, Summer, and Ghost, with their grey or white fur, parallel Wepwawet, whereas Shaggydog, with his distinctive black fur, symbolizes a link to Anubis. This alignment suggests a symbolic connection between Rickon and Anubis, while Jon, Bran, and Robb may correspond to Wepwawet.

Interestingly, throughout the series, all three of Rickon’s brothers have been portrayed as boys with wolf heads.

Farther on she came upon a feast of corpses. Savagely slaughtered, the feasters lay strewn across overturned chairs and hacked trestle tables, asprawl in pools of congealing blood. Some had lost limbs, even heads. Severed hands clutched bloody cups, wooden spoons, roast fowl, heels of bread. In a throne above them sat a dead man with the head of a wolf. He wore an iron crown and held a leg of lamb in one hand as a king might hold a scepter, and his eyes followed Dany with mute appeal.

Dany IV, ACOK

Stark’s direwolf killed four of our wolfhounds and tore the kennelmaster’s arm off his shoulder, even after we’d filled him full of quarrels …”

“So you sewed his head on Robb Stark’s neck after both o’ them were dead,” said yellow cloak.

Epilogue, ASOS

[...] The wooden man she had glimpsed, though, and the boy with the wolf’s face … 

The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange, appearing and disappearing again, a shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain. Now he was a man, now a wolf, now a man again. But the skulls were here as well, the skulls were all around him.

Melisandre, ADWD

Both Jon and Bran, along with their direwolves, also have a notable connection to the dead, further reinforcing the parallel to Wepwawet.

He sniffed at the bark, smelled wolf and tree and boy, but behind that there were other scents, the rich brown smell of warm earth and the hard grey smell of stone and something else, something terrible. Death, he knew. He was smelling death. He cringed back, his hair bristling, and bared his fangs. Don’t be afraid, I like it in the dark. No one can see you, but you can see them. But first you have to open your eyes. See? Like this. And the tree reached down and touched him.

Jon VII, ACOK

GRRM could be exploring the idea of Rickon as one with a deep connection to the spirits of the dead. This could explain not only his ability to perceive Ned’s presence in AGoT, but also his capacity to engage in extended conversations with him.

Additionally, various myths feature guiding dogs that act as "gatekeepers" to their respective underworlds.

Among these, Cerberus is perhaps the most renowned: the Greek three-headed black dog tasked with keeping the dead in Hades and preventing the living from entering.

ref: https://mythopedia.com/topics/cerberus

Cerberus has a Norse counterpart in Garmr, a black hound who similarly guards the gates of Hel, overseeing the dead and preventing the living from crossing into the underworld.

In Celtic mythology, black dogs like the Cŵn Annwn and the Barghest are often seen as omens of death or as guardians of the underworld. A modern depiction of this idea appears in the Harry Potter series, where the black dog, known as the Grim, is a harbinger of death.

Rickon is not a POV character, so we don't have direct insight into his thoughts or experiences with warging or dreaming. However, the evidence suggests that he is deeply connected to the concept of death and the underworld. In this way, he parallels his warg siblings—Jon, Bran, and Arya—who also have connections to death and the dead in various ways.

Rickon’s frequent presence in the crypts, his communion with spirits, and his direwolf’s distinctive black fur align him with these ancient symbols of death and protection. The many mythological references suggest that Rickon may not merely be a passive observer but could embody a significant role in the spiritual realm of the Stark family, hinting at a deeper narrative purpose that aligns with these ancient archetypes.

Whether GRRM will further explore Rickon’s connection to the dead remains to be seen, but the text and these mythological parallels certainly raise intriguing questions about his role in the magical landscape of the story.