#the way he asked permission to be beside the lady

[megaclaudiolis]

柄本 佑 || 「光る君へ」 (2024) · 第十二回 「思いの果て」

[spider-stark]

PRECIPICE

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Forced to attend a stuffy ball, you find yourself hiding beneath a table with Aegon.

Warnings - implied targcest as always

Word Count - 4.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

The delicious aroma of roast mutton is wafting over you as you pass one of the many long serving tables lining the walls of the ballroom. Your gaze drags along the vast spread that has been prepared for tonight; a variety of artisan breads, cooked meats, and candied desserts are laid out upon silver serving dishes. 

As you reach the end of the first table, a pile of lemon cakes snag your attention. Neatly stacked atop an ornate porcelain platter, the cakes are coated in a thin glaze that shimmers in the light. Your mouth instantly begins watering at the sight, your stomach growling in a way that would be deemed improper for a Lady. 

Beside you, holding a plate that has been loaded with mashed potatoes and honeyed chicken, Jace turns his head to cock a brow at you.

“Hungry?” He asks, chuckling softly. 

You suck in a deep breath before forcefully tearing your gaze from the cakes. “Extremely.” 

It takes an enormous amount of will power to turn away from the serving table while still empty-handed, but you somehow manage to do just that. Having hardly even walked a few steps, though, Jace is abandoning his plate to rush after you, softly seizing your wrist to keep you from moving any further. 

“If you’re hungry, then you should eat.” 

His concern is obvious, not only through his tone, but his expression as well. With his furrowed brow and tight-mouthed frown, you’re fairly certain that he’s already considering the consequences of dragging you back to the table and feeding you himself if need be. 

Jace had always been that way—not only with you, but with everyone. He was kind hearted and considerate to fault. 

“I would,” you smile, shaking your head slightly to dismiss his concern, “but I’m afraid that if I do, I might very well pop right on out of this ridiculously tight corset.” 

You wave an idle hand down to your waist, unnaturally cinched by the intricate lacing and boning of the garment beneath your evergreen gown. His eyes follow the motion, tracing along the intense curve, lingering for a moment too long. 

The explanation seems to wash away much of his concern, relieved to know that discomfort was the only reason you had chosen to abstain from the treats being served. Even so, a touch of empathy remains, accompanied by the faintest hint of desire gleaming in his amber gaze. 

Amber—an unusual color for a boy of Velaryon blood. His eyes were one of the many reasons that your mother, the Queen Alicent, felt so confident in labeling Princess Rhaenyra’s boys as bastards behind closed doors. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew that there was likely truth to her claims. Your nephews probably were bastards—but you didn’t particularly care. 

Jace was nice to you, and that was all that had ever mattered to you. 

He clears his throat, realizing that he had been gawking at your body for far longer than he should. “It looks uncomfortable,” the words spill out without permission, and you nearly laugh when his eyes go wide. “That didn’t come out right, nothing about it actually looks uncomfortable—it looks stunning! I mean, you look stunning! It’s just that, I don’t know, I imagine that having something squeeze you so tightly might be-” 

“Jace, it’s okay! Truly,” you interrupt his rambling with a soft giggle. “You should know that I’m not so easily offended,” you playfully chide. “Besides, you’re right. It is quite uncomfortable!” 

Actually, quite felt like an enormous understatement. But you didn’t figure that Jace was particularly interested in hearing about how your breasts were aching from being roughly shoved up by the tight garment. 

Jace looses a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Then why bother wearing them? Many noble-women go without corsets. Even my mother hardly ever wears one—she believes they’re vile things that only aid in the objectification of ladies.” 

Your brows rise, agreeing with the claims of your half-sister. But then you let your attention shift to the dais, meeting the rough stare of the reason why you had been forced into the tortuous garb—your mother. 

She’s already watching you when you meet her eye, her lip curled as she sends you a pointed look, silently urging you away from your nephew. It takes a great deal of effort not to shrink beneath the weight of her attention, and you’re beyond grateful for the group of women who shuffle past you towards the dance floor, giving you an excuse to break the hold she has on you. 

“I wear it because my mother wishes for all of her children to look their best,” you answer, shifting your focus back onto Jace. “And who am I to disappoint the Queen?” 

He notes the sudden callousness of your tone, as well as the way you clasp your hands together at your waist, fidgeting with the golden ring on your index finger. He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, however, knowing well enough that you were not—and already knowing why, as well. 

You imagine that Jace doesn’t much like your mother; both for her part in the rumors spread about him and his brothers and for the way she has treated his mother. 

It makes you upset in a strange way, a part of you always wishing to defend the Queen, no matter how abhorrent her actions. After all, she was your mother—whether you like it or not—and you knew very well that if someone were to try to hurt you or your siblings, then she would gladly lay her life on the line for you. 

You were thankful for her; even if her protection hurt, even if her maternal love only exists when your life is at stake.  

“Speaking of your siblings,” Jace suddenly notes, veering slightly off-subject as his own stare drifts towards the dais, “how did Aegon manage to weasel his way out of attending tonight?” 

Your brows snap together before letting your head snap back towards the dais, managing to avoid your mother’s nasty stare this time by looking to her right, taking note of each of your siblings. 

Aemond is sat directly by her side, his posture rigid as his eye scans across the room, alert and on-guard as usual. Next to him is Helaena, leisurely picking at her plate of food and mindlessly bobbing her head along to the symphony being played for court musicians. Daeron, who your mother insisted fly Tessarion here from Oldtown so that he might be present for tonight, is sat next to your empty chair, making idle chatter with those around him. 

But Aegon’s chair, sat between yours and Helaena’s, is vacant. 

A knot forms in your stomach when you look back at Aemond, his piercing violet eye catching yours, gleaming with a silent order—find our imbecile brother before he makes a fool of us all. 

You give him a curt nod before looking away, head whirling as you begin searching the crowd around you for any sign of your eldest brother. 

“Simple,” you huff, “he didn’t.” 

Jace hums his understanding as you politely excuse yourself, turning away from him to begin shoving through the throng of people filling the room. 

You decline invitations to dance and spout excuses as to why you can’t stop to chat as you push past noblemen-and-women from various Houses, trying to maintain the pleasant persona your mother favored while still moving fast enough that you might find Aegon before he finds any new ways to publicly bring shame upon the Targaryen name.  

It’s exhausting work—and by the time you have shoved yourself to the other end of the room without finding him, you nearly consider giving up. Your chest hurts and your scalp is itching from being poked and prodded by a dozen or so pins, all of which had been meticulously placed by servants to arrange plaits into a fanciful half-updo. 

In many ways, you look like your mother; with your elaborate hairstyle and green dress, the look is tied together by a pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star dangling from your neck. 

And, in many ways, you hate it. 

Much to the Queen’s dismay, you’ve never much liked the elegant styles preferred by many women at court. No, instead you spent much of your time donning mail with your hair lazily pulled back, joining Aemond for practice in the training yard. 

She hated how unrefined you were, how indelicate you were; fearful for how others at court might view you for it, for how much attention you might draw to yourself. 

You blow out a sigh, resisting the urge to pull all of the pins from your hair as you will yourself to keep walking, to keep looking for Aegon. A table overflowing with carafes of arbor wine and flagons of ale catches your attention, setting off alarm bells in your mind. 

If Aegon were going to choose anywhere to hide at this godsforsaken ball, then it would certainly be in close proximity to the alcohol. 

A cacophony of laughter and clinking goblets surrounds you as you approach, scanning over rows of bottles and skimming the faces of those nearby. Spinning your ring on your finger, you walk along the entire length of the long serving table, disappointed when you reach the end of it and find that your brother is still nowhere in sight. 

Chewing on your cheek, you fight the urge to pour yourself a drink when you notice a carafe of blackberry wine. The plum colored liquid seems to call your name, singing promises of sweet oblivion, an escape from the restless feeling clawing at your chest. 

You’re out of place here in court, and you always have been—you know that, and you worry that everyone around you knows, too. 

Sensical enough to recognize that alcohol would likely just exacerbate your current ill-feelings, you shun the carafe and turn towards the grand entrance. Lifting your chin and squaring your shoulders, you try to appear more composed than you feel as you saunter towards the large wooden doors. 

If Aegon had snuck off with one of the serving girls, then there was a good chance that he was still somewhere in the hall, either flirting or feeling up their skirts. And, if you were wrong, then at least he had provided you with an excuse to slip away from this mess of a ball. 

As you pass by the last serving table, the platters and dishes atop it already thoroughly picked over, you feel someone tug at your dress. You whirl around, a fiery retort already falling off your tongue, fully intending to rip into whoever had found the audacity to touch you without permission—only to find yourself insulting the air. 

There was no one there, at least not close enough to have touched you. 

For a heartbeat you begin to reel, wondering if you’ve started to lose your mind before feeling the sensation again. A sharp tug at the fabric, just by your knee. Your head snaps down towards your dress, covering your mouth before a gasp can slip your lips. 

An arm is peeking out from beneath one of the finely embellished tablecloths, and a well-groomed hand is clutching your skirts. You instantly recognize the hand as Aegon’s, having become intimately familiar with your brother’s touch throughout your life. 

Taking a step closer to the covered table, you try to look natural as you hunch over it slightly to get closer to his level, feigning an interest in a half-eaten roast duck. 

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing, Aegon?!” Your voice is hushed, not quite a whisper, but low enough so that no one other than him might hear. 

Releasing his hold on your skirts, Aegon lifts the tablecloth a little higher, revealing his face. “Get under here,” he tilts his head, motioning for you to join him beneath the table. 

“No!” 

He swiftly presses a finger to his lips in response to your incredulous shout, shushing you. You stiffen, nervously flicking your eyes to each side, checking to ensure that no one had heard you. Fortunately, the courtiers around you appear far too invested in their conversations and drinks to notice how you appear to have shouted at a roast duck. 

Aegon’s lilac eyes are wide, pleading as he shoves the tablecloth up higher, giving you more room to slip beneath it. “Would you just shut up and come?” 

It’s the sheer urgency of his tone that piques your interest, although you wish that it hadn’t. You huff out an annoyed sigh, taking another look around the room before gathering up your skirts and sinking to your knees, crawling underneath the table. 

Once you’ve successfully sat down beside him on the stone floor, he drops the cloth, shielding the two of you from any prying eyes. The material is thin enough that it allows some light to pass through it, very dimly illuminated Aegon’s grinning face, all urgency having suddenly vanished. 

“Welcome,” he almost sounds breathless, the word airy—and utterly unnecessary. 

You can faintly see the rosy coloring of his cheeks, a few messy silver waves tumbling across his face, and you’re immediately willing to bet that he’s extremely buzzed. “What are you doing, Aeg?” 

Your tone is firm, but there’s a certain gentleness to it that was specially reserved for your eldest brother. While you maintain that you love all three of them equally, it’s undeniable that your relationship with Aegon has always been… different. 

He reaches to his side, lifting a carafe from the ground beside him. “Having a party,” he says, raising it towards your face and playfully swirling the garnet colored liquid. 

“I’m unsure if you’re aware,” you motion towards the cloth shrouding you from the bustling ballroom, “but our mother has already planned quite the celebration for tonight—and she likely does not wish for it to be ruined by her drunkard son ducking beneath tables like an imbecile!” 

Aegon pokes his bottom lip out into a pout. “Why must you assume that I am drunk?” 

“Because you’re you,” you drone, cocking your head at him, “and you are always drunk.” 

Rolling his eyes, he sits the carafe down on the ground between you. There are only mere inches separating the two of you, both of you squeezing your limbs close to your body to avoid having a foot peek out from beneath the table. Sitting this close to him, you can smell the sweetness of the arbor red of his breath—as well as the faintest hint of sulfur, a sign that he had clearly gone riding on Sunfyre earlier and had failed at washing off the dragon’s strong scent. 

You take another breath, inhaling the smell of him into your lungs. It was familiar—comfortable, urging your taut muscles to slacken in his presence. 

“And what if I told you that I am sober right now?” 

A snort escapes you, sparing him an incredulous look. “Then I would call you a liar,” you tell him, tapping a finger against the rim of the half-empty carafe. 

His stare drops down towards it, watching as the liquid ripples when you pull your hand back. When he looks back up, he’s wearing a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter. “Mostly sober, then.” 

It’s nearly impossible to stifle your laugh, clamping a hand over your mouth so that you might muffle the sound and prevent passersby from becoming suspicious. The sound only makes his smile grow wider and more genuine, an expression that he graced very few people with. 

“I’ll ask again,” you say, speaking only when you're confident that no more laughter will tumble out. “Why are you down here? If mother finds out then she will be furious and-” 

Aegon tosses his head back, cutting you off with a groan. “Mother will be furious no matter what,” 

Disdain drips from each syllable, thickening the air around you. He didn’t like talking about her much, and you couldn’t blame him for it. Of all your siblings, Aegon had been dealt the worst hand, simply by being born first. He got the brunt of your mothers vile behavior; and you hated that, too. 

“Because,” lazily rolling his neck so that he can look at you again, he answers, “I’d rather spend my night under here,” he flicks a hand up, lazily gesturing around himself, “than be forced to sit through even one more tedious speech from some ancient Lord of gods-know-where!” 

You bite your tongue, holding back another laugh. 

“And,” he continues, nodding in your direction, “I am now saving you from the same mundane fate. You’re welcome.” 

“What makes you think that I needed your saving?” You ask, brows rising. 

Aegon purses his lips, placing a finger against his chin as he feigns contemplation, studying the intricate styling of your hair, the modest long-sleeved gown, and the Star resting against your covered breasts. “Perhaps it was that our mother has you dressed up as though you’re an aspiring Septa.” 

Thinking of the plain women, with their simple gowns and traditional head coverings, you nearly laugh again as you ask, “How many Septa’s do you know that wear corsets and jewelry, brother?” 

“None,” he admits, shoulders lifting into an indolent shrug. “Though, if they looked more like you, then I might finally have a reason to attend prayer. Beautiful women would be more than enough to turn me into a pious man.” 

A warmth creeps up your neck as blood rushes to your cheeks, unsure if his statement was meant as a compliment—was he saying that he found you beautiful? If so, it shouldn’t have been a particularly shocking revelation. After all, Aegon had complimented you before, many times. 

In all fairness, however, most of those times had been when he was thoroughly besotted. He had a habit of sneaking into your rooms and practically draping himself off of you, muttering drunken nonsense about how breathtaking you were. You had never placed much truth in the statements though, assuming that Aegon likely didn’t even recognize who he was speaking to, much less whose bed he had crawled into. 

But even if this was a genuine and mostly sober attempt at complimenting you, the flattery of it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Your own insecurity washes back over you far quicker than you like, reminding you of just how unlike yourself you currently feel. 

“I do not believe that anything would be capable of turning you into a pious man,” you joke, trying and failing to cover up the melancholy that has settled into your bones. “Not even beautiful women.” 

“You could.” 

The answer comes far too quick, spilling from his tongue with an eagerness that even seems to catch him by surprise. 

“Though, I must say, for as exquisite as this dress makes you look,” his hand reaches across the short expanse dividing you, mindlessly running his fingers along the fabric covering your shoulder, “I much prefer the way look in armor—sweaty skin, messy hair, sword in-hand—all of it.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch drifts towards the center of your chest, fingers dragging along the thin chain leading to your pendant, lifting the Star into his palm. He stares at it for a moment before yanking it roughly from your neck, grinning when you yelp. “But this,” he lifts the Seven-Pointed Star slightly, “I absolutely hate.” 

With that, he tosses it from underneath the table, sending it skittering across the floor beyond the tablecloth. 

Your jaw drops open, a hand pressed against the now-sore spot along the back of your neck. Despite yourself, your lips start to curve into a playful smile. You try fighting against it, try pressing them into a firm line, but fail. “Mother will not be happy about that-” 

“She’s never happy,” Aegon interjects. His own expression shifts, the line on his forehead deepening as he says, “Do not let yourself bear her misery. Life is too short—and you deserve more than that.” 

A palpable silence is thickening the air, and your breathing seems to synchronize as you simply stare at one another. 

Slowly, nervously, you say, “I’m not sure what it is that I deserve,” 

“You deserve,” he pauses, lips still parted despite the absence of speech. Then, swallowing back the words that had been building in his throat, he says, “you deserve whatever it is that you want, sister.” 

Your hand falls from your neck into your lap, and you avert your gaze, watching your fingers as they fidget with your ring. “And what if I do not know what I want?” 

Once, you had thought that you wanted a life like Jaces. A happy life, with a mother that knew how to love you and siblings that hadn’t been raised in fear of their half-sister ascending the throne, taught that their very existence was a threat to her power. But, suddenly, you felt as though you were no longer sure. 

Aegon hesitates, watching you carefully. His lilac eyes appear as though they’re searching for something within your own—a hint of recognition, or reciprocation. If he found what he was looking for, then you were unaware. “Then you’ll figure it out,” he sighs, his smile not reaching his eyes. “You have all the time in the world to decide.” 

There is something reassuring about his statement, making it resonate with you in a way that you hadn’t expected. You look up, holding his gaze for a heartbeat, then two, and you almost swear that you can see it—the silent invitation, the plea to delve deeper into his words, to decipher exactly what it was that he was promising you. 

You have all the time in the world—all the time in the world to decide if he might ever be something you want. 

Suddenly you find yourself dancing on the edge of a precipice, chest tightening as you grapple with the idea that, maybe, something more might exist between you and Aegon. 

That, maybe, he had always known who he was complimenting and what bed he was slipping into. 

That, for him, it had always been you. 

“Aegon, I-” 

He shakes his head, cutting you off before you have a chance to say something that he fears you may regret. Then, sliding the carafe between you to the side, he scoots closer. “If you plan on staying under my table,” he teases, clearing his throat, “then we need to do something about your hair.” 

“I thought you said I looked exquisite?” You stay still as he starts toying with the strands, trying to swallow the tumult of your own emotions. 

Aegon’s plucking various pins from your hair, tossing them to the ground. “Yes, but I also said that I prefer your hair when it’s messy. It’s more…” he sucks in a breath, unable to hide the admiration swelling in his chest when he finally exhales, “you.” 

Your cheeks are burning hot, and you’re suddenly very thankful for the lack of light around you. On instinct, you almost tell him how your mother wouldn’t agree—but then you think better of it. 

“You’re… generous.” 

Something about your voice sounds foreign in your ears. You sound nervous—and you’re not used to feeling nervous around Aegon. 

His fingers are combing through the plaits forming your updo, his brow drawn taut, framing his lilac eyes, shining bright with concentration. “Generous,” he snorts softly, nails raking lightly against your scalp as he shakes the strands loose, “I don’t hear that one often.” 

“Well perhaps you’d hear it more if you weren’t such an ass,” you shoot back, slowly trying to slip back into your usual self. 

“Me? An ass?” He’s untangled the final braid, scooting away from you slightly now as he presses a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “Never.” 

Now falling in loose waves, free of those incessant pins, you brush your hair over your shoulder. “Just earlier I heard you telling Lord Grover that if wisdom were measured in wrinkles that he would be named Grand Maester.” You point out, unable to mask your amusement while recalling the old man’s shocked expression. 

“Is it not true?” Aegon smirks. “The man is nearly seventy, and his age certainly shows.” 

“Lord Grover is only two-and-fifty, brother.” 

His brows shoot up, gaping at you. “Tell me that you’re not serious!” When you nod, confirming that you are, he sucks his teeth. “Wow—how unfortunate. He looks positively dreadful for his age, then. I thought that he surely had one foot in the grave by now.” 

“Aegon!” You rebuke through your own sputtered laughter, shaking your head at his insolence. “See? This is what I was talking about! If you weren’t so crude then you might get more compliments.” 

Swinging his arm back to grab for the carafe, Aegon’s nose scrunches slightly. “Why bother?” He implores, a hint of mischief in his tone. “My crudeness is what you like most about me, is it not? Without it, dear sister, your life would be quite boring.” 

Just before he brings the carafe to his lips, he inclines his head towards the tablecloth, emphasizing his words. A reminder—that, without him, you would still be out there, sitting miserably amongst your siblings and being forced to dance with Lord’s twice your age. 

There was something more beneath the veil of humor and arrogance, however. A craving that had him tipping the carafe back, hoping that the stinging of the alcohol might numb his gnawing desire for validation—to hear you say that you yes, my life would be boring without you. 

“I suppose you’re right,” the admission has him pausing, the carafe lingering against his bottom lip. “Truth be told, I had never put much thought into it before, but you do have a way of keeping life interesting, Aeg. So, I must agree that, without you, my life would be positively dreadful.” Staring at the ground in-between you, you smile before adding, “After all, who else would be able to convince me to risk our mother’s scorn and crawl beneath a table to drink wine and fix my hair?” 

There’s a slight tremor in his voice when he speaks, trying to mask the warmth swelling in his chest, “You have yet to drink a single drop.” 

“Then I suppose that is the next thing you’ll have to fix,” you say, sticking your hand out towards him, urging him to pass you the carafe. He hands it to you while biting back a grin. 

“Careful,” he warns, “drink too much and you may end up like your drunkard brother.” 

“I don't mind,” You mirror his expression, your own lips curving as you raise the glass upwards, the strong scent of the arbor red stinging your nostrils. “I quite like my drunkard brother.” 

His gaze burns against your flesh as you tilt your head back, allowing the alcohol to slip over your tongue, and you suddenly realize that you are no longer standing on the edge of that precipice. 

You’re falling.

a/n - i was honestly just thinking about jude and cardan hiding under a table in the cruel prince and ended up with this? so yeah, definitely inspired by jurdan content (but y'know... no coup d'etat lmao).

[trashcanplant]

The Harvest

Mob Au to @//clownsuu

Penny to @cherrythepuppet

Vince to @cloudy-dreams

TW: Spooky scary scarecrows send shivers down your spine! Rotting meat.

Grover sat at the bar, keeling over a hearty glass of rye whiskey like there was no tomorrow. He felt miserable, grabbing at his chest and struggling to breathe. His mind spaced out, and when he came back to reality, Penny was sitting beside him.

“Ugh… what do you want.” He groaned, slamming back another cup. Grover let Howdy finish pouring him a new one before he turned back to Penny.

With the changing of the seasons in full swing and clumps of leaves layering the ground, she had now taken a poofy feather boa oon her bare shoulders. The little lady raised her eyebrows at him as a snarky grin graced her lips.

“Hi.” She said quickly, turning to Howdy and raising her finger. He nodded silently and started to prepare a Shirley Temple.

“Doesn’t answer my question.” Grover grumbled worthlessly, sinking into the bar stool like his roots were planting into the ground.

“Well, Scarycrow—“ Penny began before a cough from Grover interrupted her.

“Not my name.” He growled. Penny rolled her eye.

“Yeah, anyway, Boss told me to tell you ‘Feed him’ So. Feed him. Whatever that means. Has he started talking in third person?” She questioned, looking down at the pear bracelets over her opera gloves. Grover perked up. He looked out the window, downed his drink, and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Penny asked, reaching for her drink that Howdy had just finished shaking and topping with whipped cream and cherries. Her eye followed Grover as he grabbed a coat.

“Out.” He said. This piqued Penny’s curiosity. She’d heard from Antoni that Grover wasn’t allowed ‘out’ without permission. She hopped from her barstool, chasing Grover into the night.

“You’re not allowed out! Boss said-“

“Boss told me that I need to go when he gives the word. Where the fuck are those birds..” He growls, eyes on the skies as he listens for a distant cawing. His eye spots two birds, barely visible behind the night sky as they cry from their branch. Grover huffs, turning to Penny.

“You’re helping me make a delivery.” He said sharply, practically dragging her by the arm to one of the cars.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She shouts, struggling against his grasp.

“Help me make the delivery and I get you whatever treat you want.” Grover replies, getting her in the car. It’s not the usual continental that he’d drive. It’s a pickup truck, back covered with a tarp. Penny sits in the passenger seat, holding her arm nervously.

“Fine.”

And they drive off into the night. Penny watched as the lights from the city began to dim. The truck passed by the warehouse that marked the edge of town and drove farther than that and parked at the tree line. Grover got out of the truck and took the cover off the truck bed.

It was a cacophony of flies, buzzing over the top half of a deer. It had been ripped in half, and smelled like it had been a long time since it had died. Its guts had stained the bed red and maggots had begun to creep through the deers skin and pelt. Grover looked down on it, grabbing it and easing it out of the truck. It hit the ground with a somehow wet squelch. Something leaked from the deer.

“Help me.” Grover said, and when Penny got around the truck she screamed. It alerted the crows which dotted the trees, and Grover slapped a still wet glove against her mouth.

“Shut the fuck up. Vince don’t like noise.” He commanded. Penny stared at him with a wide eye, shivering in her unfit-for-weather dress.

“Grab the back.” Grover said, looking over his shoulder into the tree line. Penny squirmed, reaching down to try and carry her half of the weight. It was unfair, Grover had to lean all the way down and walk backwards into the trees with Penny trying to direct him in the dim light. He was pricked by several brambles and stabbed with sticks.

When the pair passed the tree line and entered the clearing, it was like walking into the world’s most terrifying sculpture park. The figures were all in the midst of fleeing. To the untrained eye it would look like wood carvings, but the way that the flies landed on them and how new branches grew from they eye sockets and mouths of these people made it obvious that it wasn’t just sculpture.

Grover and Penny carried the deer, sticks crunching under their shoes. The two approached the center of the field and Grover dropped the deer. He looked around at the stillness, searching for something in the trees. Penny felt uncomfortable, her head on a swivel as she looked through the field. She could have sworn she saw one of the bodies still breathing.

Grover whistled, taking a step away from the dearly departed deer.

“Watch em feast.” He said with a little grin on his face. The crows flooded from tree line, swooping at the carcass. Grover laughed, and Penny turned over her shoulder to see a hunched over figure with dark eyes and an elongated mouth. She screamed, grabbing onto Grover who looked down at her.

When his eyes landed on Vince in the darkness, reaching out to grab Penny, Grover swatted his hand away.

“No, Vince. I get’cher real hungry to have someone new join ya but not her. She’s family.” Grover said, staring at Vince as the cut noose swayed around his neck. They held eye contact. Vince opened his mouth and murmured something in a low, unfamiliar tone that sent chill down Penny’s spine.

“Look, how bout next time I bring one here fer ya I’ll letcha do yer tree thing an’ all that. I like them screams too, gotta admit..” Grover said with a low chuckle. Vince had a raspy laugh, not saying a word but staring at Penny. Grover looked down at her again.

“Her names Penny. I needed an extra set a hands pullin’ the deer. I know ya like a bit of a scaredy-cat, but I got reprimanded by Wally when I had brought Poppy out here. You ‘member her, Vince? Real tall bird broad?” Grover said. Penny had a look of horror plastered on her face as she kept a grip on Grover’s pants. Vince did not respond, reaching out a finger to graze against Penny’s skin. The taller of the scarecrows grabbed at the other, holding his gloved hand tightly.

“I’ll see what I can fix up fer ya. But not her. Not her.” Grover said protectively. The crows behind him cawed as they finished their feast and flew back into the trees. The plot was silent again, save for Vince’s ragged breathing. Penny stared up at Grover, then at Vince.

“D’ya need help spreading the bones across the field?” Grover asked. He gave Penny a little pat, a nonverbal way of telling her to head back to the truck. As she began to walk away, Vince turned his head with an audible creak. Grover kept his attention, talking to him calmly.

It took over an hour for Grover to return to the pickup truck. Penny was asleep, her head against the window. Grover glanced out the driver side window at Vince who stood just beyond the tree line. He waved goodbye, then turned around on the road to drive home.

From just under Penny’s opera glove, a small leaf began to sprout.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Blue Violet

NAVIGATION || NIECE!READER MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & Niece!Reader (platonic series)

SYNOPSIS: Trust. It was one of the many things that Simon Riley was constantly fighting a war with himself over.

WARNINGS: Angst, talks of death, blood, gore, fires, trust issues, many mentions from Simon's comic backstory, etc.

A/N: You'll need to read this drabble first to understand the plot!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Trust. It was one of the many things that Simon Riley was constantly fighting a war with himself over. Who to give it to—who he could believe wouldn’t put a knife into his gut or a bullet through his skull with little more than words shared. 

Washington. Sparks. All that they had done….they’d ruined what little was left of his mind along with Roba’s torture. But Simon had already explained it before. 

You can’t break something that was already broken a long time ago.

So, trust. 

Trust. 

It was easier said than done, but he was working on it. One-Four-One helped somewhat, but perhaps the one person who showed him that he could try to fix his own head was you. Tommy and Beth’s little daughter. Simon’s niece, who was now under his guardianship. You were the only one to survive the brutal murder of his entire family on that cold night, hidden away; a baby asleep without knowing about the blood staining the hardwood of the living room.

How does he explain to you that you were one of the few things keeping him from slipping off that edge? Easy. 

He doesn’t. 

Simon was never good with words, and soon, the trust of his fellow soldiers was going to be forced to a near breaking point. 

“Who’s the guy with the mohawk?”

“Oh, bloody fuckin’ hell.”

You’re talking up a storm to Sergeant MacTavish, asking him what he does, what he specializes in, what he thinks of your Uncle and his horrible jokes—Simon glares at him, looming above your figure like a bear with his arms crossed. 

Realistically, it wasn’t Johnny’s fault he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, but hell if it didn’t make Ghost nervous. No one besides Price knew about you, and for good reason. Simon couldn’t take the thought of you getting dragged into this. 

Johnny’s face is tight, eyes darting from you up into Simon’s deep browns every so often as if the Lieutenant was about to snap. Though, you were quick to point it out.

“Simon,” you huff over your shoulder, the man carrying the grocery bags in his arm. “Stop trying to light him on fire.”

“M’not,” his glare doesn’t loosen, and you wonder if he’d even blinked from the moment you had dragged him over to say hello to the Sergeant. 

“That’s the same look you give me when I sneak out to the corner store to buy snacks.”

Johnny blinks in confusion, reaching a hand back to itch at his skull while his pack of Irn Bru is still swinging from the other. 

Simon grunts. “An’ if you’d stop fuckin’ doing it, I’d stop lookin’ at you like that.”

The Sergeant graciously interrupts.

“Nice seein’ you, Lt.” Cobalt eyes blink as he clears his throat, looking down at you. “And..uh…”

You cheerily give your name, sticking out a hand and adding on easily, “Simon’s niece!”

Trust, Simon reminds himself, jaw clenching from under his balaclava. 

Johnny chuckles, lips pulling back in a smile as he gently locks his much larger hand with yours. 

“Good to know, Little Lady. Y’can call me Johnny, just like your Uncle, here.” A glance is tossed Simon’s way as you laugh. “You two live around here, then? Haven’t seen you ‘ere before.”

Your eyes spark, excited at the prospect of more friends. “Yea-!”

“Negative.” You blink, confusion poking your chest like a stick. Simon grabs your shoulder and you’re being paraded out of the doors of the Tesco swiftly. 

“Simon!” your feet pad, skidding. “What the hell, man?” 

The man glares ahead. “What I say about the shitty language?”

You shift out of his grip, flailing an arm with an annoyed huff stuck on your lips. 

“You’re embarrassing, you know that? I wanted to talk to someone you work with!” Brown eyes swirl with dull amusement, and you can see his smirk from under his face covering as he continues walking forward down the street. “Why did you do that?”

“We don’t need people knowing where we live, yeah? Bloody give the address away while you’re at it. Only thing worse would be givin’ ‘em the keys.” You know there’s some life lesson hidden in this somewhere—some cautionary tale that you have no interest in learning from a ghost. 

But Johnny had seemed nice, and it was hard to make friends when you two were always moving. Much less one of the men who worked with your uncle.

“Simon,” you growl and hurry after, Johnny left alone in the building blinking at the doors. The highly confused Sergeant shakes his head and mutters under his breath with a growing headache. 

“Imagine that.”

A shocked chuckle spills out, and he slowly heads to the check-out aisle.

When you and your Uncle get back to your flat, you still have layers of steam coming out of your ears, even as you get told to help put the food away. You grasp the bag of crisps and toss them to the counter, Simon sliding you a side glance as he washes his hands. 

Flicking off the water droplets, he huffs. 

“You’ll break ‘em.” Your lips stay firmly shut until many minutes later. 

“Why don’t you trust people?” By now supper had been started, your body standing in the doorway as you had fought on whether to go to your room or stay here and talk. Your own stubborn nature held out; you often thought you got that from Simon if no one else. 

The man in question freezes as he is about to open the fridge, eyes staring blankly at the metal ahead of him. He lets you continue as his chest pulls in with a bit of apprehension. 

“I…” you stutter for a moment but push through. “I get it, really. I know enough about the whole thing to understand where you’re coming from, okay?” Your mind tells you it’s better to keep the references vague—you love your Uncle dearly, but there are some things that you have to call out when you see them. And you’d been seeing them for years. “But, Simon, I want to be able to talk to people.”

Simon’s fingers twitch over the handle, and his browns shift to stare at you over his shoulder. He blinks. 

“You do. A lot.” You look away, expression tight. 

“You know what I mean,” your voice grumbles lowly, losing that confidence as you push out. “I’m not them.” 

Simon admitted that this wasn’t a new point that had been brought up. He was protective of you and your safety to the utmost degree. You were his family, after all; you were all he had left through this. 

The man sighs under his breath. 

“I know that, Kid. Never said you were.” He turns and walks over to you, one of his hands moving out to grasp your shoulder and tilt his head your way. Simon waits until you look at him and he speaks through his gravelly accent when you do—a line in your forehead. 

“You’re my responsibility. And I—” You frown and turn away. Simon grunts, “Hey, right ‘ere.” Your eyes lock with his. The man raises a brow and his dead gaze glints slightly. “I’ve got a lot o’ shit goin’ on, you know that. Rightly, I shouldn't ‘ave dragged you into any of it.”

You open your mouth to disagree, but you’re leveled with a stare. 

“So you let me make the decisions, yeah?” 

“You don’t trust your teammates?” You’re going to be the death of him. 

“Never bloody said that,” Simon defects, moving back as you glare up at him as he leaves to get more of the ingredients he needs. 

“You implied it.” 

“I did not—” You glare, unimpressed as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“I literally just asked you why you don’t trust people and you gave me a lecture like an old man.”

Narrowed eyes pierce you, and a growl is uttered. “If you don’t fuckin’ join that debate club, it’ll be a cold day in Hell, you hear?” 

The sharp smirk that slashes your face makes him hold back his own, a same mirror image that he can’t overlook. 

“Callin’ it as I see it, Unc.” The look you’re given has you scurrying away from the kitchen, chuckling under your breath, but the both of you know that this conversation is far from over. 

Yet, even after you’re gone, your words leave Simon thinking as he begins cutting vegetables. 

He knew he could rely on his fellow soldiers in the field—knew he could tell Price about you when he had been mulling it over years ago. Garrick and MacTavish had both fired bullets for his safety, just as he had for them. Simon knew that meant something, he wasn’t destroyed enough to not realize that. 

But the more people that knew about you, the more in danger you became. Leaving you here alone was already stressful, knowing that something might happen made his hair stand on end like a dog with snarling fangs. And Simon could also admit that he was moving the two of you around more than he had to, never giving you more than half a year in one flat before packing it up.

His knife slows, eyes narrow, and he asks himself the question he thought of often. 

Is this what Tommy and Beth would have wanted for you? 

The question made his sleepless nights more claustrophobic than the coffin he’d been shoved into. Simon was constantly in doubt with himself about anything outside of a battlefield, and he was sure that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. 

This would have been so much easier if his mum was here. She’d know what to do. Know what to say. 

Simon hums under his breath, eyes far off, and gets back to chopping. 

You both eat at the kitchen table, and you instantly bring Johnny up as you take a bite from your fork. 

“What’s he like,” Simon’s balaclava is tossed to the side, his scarred face on full display to you. You had stopped being scared of those scars a long time ago, but Simon could still remember the first time he’d shown you them. 

Brown eyes look up, the man chewing the last of the food in his mouth.

“Johnny, I mean,” you casually state, but the soldier can see the interest in your eyes. He kept work and home life separate when it came to you. No mention of missions or targets. For you, it left a big black hole in your chest, which was exactly where this was coming from. “He seems nice.”

“Never knows how to keep quiet,” Simon utters, taking a sip from his water glass. “But he’s a good shot.”

You sigh to yourself, putting your chin to your palm as your elbow rests on the wood, fork released with a tiny clink of the plate.

“We should invite them over one time—your team.”

“No.” 

“Simon, please—”

“I said no,” Simon’s face was stern, serious. He doesn’t look away as he speaks to you. “We’ve had this conversation.”

Your anger sparks, flaring up at the refusal of something so simple. Why did he seem to think that keeping you hidden was the best thing for you? Did he not realize that if he let the people he trusted know about you, then you’d just be more safe at the end of the day? 

Who in their right mind would go against the whole of One-Four-One?

“I want to know who you work with,” you snap, one hand clenching on the table as the other is set down when you move your head. 

Simon grunts, continuing to eat as his arms tense. “You will.”

Your head perks. “When?”

“When I’m dead.” 

“I’m not joking!” You stand suddenly, eyes glossy and face tight. Simon’s expression changes from mild annoyance to surprise, head moving like a dog to watch silently as you grow more animated. 

He forgot sometimes that you were still a teenager. 

“I want to know who keeps you safe!” You glare through the sting, emotions finally catching up and tightening around your throat. Did he not see the real purpose behind this? “I never ask what goes on when you leave,” your nose sniffles, and Simon’s eyelids flinch. “I need to know who I have to put my trust in to help you come back. You’re my family, Simon, and every time I try to figure you out it’s like there’s a wall that I have to break through.” 

Trust. 

Your hands come up to brush along your cheeks as the sound of a moving chair enters your ears, your fingers shake before a firm arm wraps behind your head, pushing you into a large chest. 

Simon doesn’t speak as you lightly cry, your emotions that he didn’t even consider existing in this way leaving his heart tight in his ribs. He really wasn’t good at this. Like an awkward statue, he holds you the best he can—eyes staring forward at the far wall. 

“Didn’t,” the man starts as you calm down minutes later. He pauses, not knowing what to say. “Didn’t know that was how you felt ‘bout it. You don’t have to worry for me, eh?”

“Shut up,” your nose nuzzles into his shirt, voice muffled as Simon sighs long. “You’d worry about me.”

He can’t argue with that. 

“...You know why I can’t let ‘em over.” You shake your head into him. 

“You’re making excuses. If you can’t trust them, then who can you?” He’s petting the back of your head, thumb rubbing circles into your scalp as his jaw clenches, crooked nose shifting.

“I do trust them—”

“Then why are you—”

“What I don’t fuckin’ trust is myself.” You stop, blinking quickly as you pull back. 

Your hands push away your tear tracks. 

“What?” 

Simon’s eyes are far away, body tense. “I don’t know if I trust myself to be able to let other people know about another Riley who survived. If somethin’ were to happen to you, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself, Sunshine, you hear?” 

You stare, blinking quickly at your uncle and his larger-than-life pedestal that you’d placed him on. Brown eyes flicker to yours, and the man grunts at your red-veined eyes before letting you go. 

“I would sooner let the devil drag me down right ‘ere than think o’ that.” 

Your mouth opens and closes, struggling to put into words the thoughts inside of your brain. Simon had never been…open with his thoughts about things—he was more of a show-than-tell type of person. Mostly that was due to your age and your separation from all of the more dark aspects of his life. It was good that way, and you’d never complained.

But he was your Uncle—your guardian. In more ways than one, he was the only father figure you’d ever have.

You drag Simon into a hug, squeezing him tightly and wrenching your eyes shut before you can cry again. 

“Why couldn’t you have just said you didn’t want the flat dirty,” you wetly laugh, and Simon’s eyes soften down at you, his arms once more curling around you as his lungs push a huff from his nose. 

“Still can.”

“Fuck you.” 

A squeeze. “Oi.”

“Sorry.” Yet always, you broke the sharp bits of him off one by one. Simon sighs, and in a way, he understands your concerns. They were just like his. 

The man gets to thinking about the two Sergeants, not just MacTavish. They had never given him any red flags or internal concerns—in fact, the two men were some of the finest he had ever worked with; they were promising not only in skill but attitude. 

To go through what they had and still hold smiles and jokes was a feat not many could achieve. 

They were good men. 

And in the case of information leaking, he realized with a slow blink that even if that was the case, Simon Riley was officially dead—he had died in a house fire, his dog tags recovered from the body of Kevin Sparks. Of course, only Simon knew that last part. If there was ever something that happened, someone being captured and tortured, there would be no link to you.

To trust was a dangerous thing, and to be worthy of that trust was even more so.

He would do anything to never see you worry. 

Simon licks his lips, for once in his life making a decision based on no forethought beyond a few measly moments and the weight of his niece in his arms. 

“One time.” You make a noise into his chest in confusion. Simon closes his eyes and grates out, “I’ll have ‘em over one time.”

—

The next day he’s at base, out on the target fields in full gear with Johnny beside him as a spotter. Simon lay on the concrete lookout with the stock of a sniper rifle in his shoulder, the Sergeant kneeling about a foot away.

The Scot speaks unprompted as Simon’s brown eyes blink slowly, gaze steady.

“Jus’ so you know, Lt.,” Johnny’s face is in the corner of his vision, his headgear turned Simon’s way as the man was lining up with the target miles away. “...Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Trust was something that Simon Riley fought a war with himself over. It was a mountain of knives and bullets that he knew he would have to climb one bleeding foot at a time. He would do it, of course. Blood had never made him shy away from anything. 

“I know.”

[ninii-winchester]

Deepest Desire

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 2k

Warnings : angst, heartbreak, feelings of betrayal, alcohol, strong language, spoilers. Unedited.

A/n : This is a Supernatural x Lucifer crossover fic. I’ve only ever watched a few episodes of Lucifer. This is a work of fiction, I don’t own Supernatural or Lucifer. They belong to CW and Netlfix respectively.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Another day, another hunt. But it was nothing crazy. With Chuck being gone things are as normal as they could be. Y/n's friend had called in for help and she was happy to go. On her way back to the Bunker, her car stopped abruptly and wouldn't start. She slammed her hand on the steering wheel before calling Dean, filling him in on the situation.

"If only you'd let me take baby I would've been home by now." She groaned over the phone and she heard him laugh on the other side.

"My bad, sweetheart. You can take it next time." He chuckled before he added, "I'll be in an hour tops okay? Get some place safe."

"Yeah I see a bar its uh.. 'the tipsy tavern' I'll be there."

She hung up the phone and made her way towards the bar. It wasn't too far from where her car stopped, just a walking distance. She went inside and it was, well, typically how a bar is. She scanned the place thoroughly, her eyes landing on a woman with blond hair. She seemed troubled. She kept looking over her shoulder, continuously fidgeting with her hands.

Y/n walked up to her and slid in the stool beside her. The woman slightly jumped at the action and it didn't go unnoticed by her.

"Hey are you okay?" Y/n asked her, the woman eyed her cautiously before nodding.

"I'm fine." She replied curtly.

"Are you sure? You seem distressed." Y/n pressed hoping she could help somehow. The woman sighed, looking at her.

"You’d think I’m crazy."

"Try me." Y/n said mentally scoffing, what could this woman tell her that would be more unbelievable than what she deals with on a daily basis.

"I'm not from here."

"So you're a foreigner, are you lost?" Y/n questioned.

"No you don't understand." The woman seemed frustrated. "My name is Chloe Decker, I'm a detective." She said and Y/n nodded, urging her to continue. "I'm from LA. But this isn't my world." Chloe didn't know what it was about the woman infront of her that made her want to trust her.

"Your world?" Before Chloe could answer a man in a black suit takes a seat on the side side of Chloe.

"Well hello there. Made a new friend, did we detective?" The man spoke in a British accent.

"This is uh.." Chloe trailed off not knowing her name so Y/n quickly told her name. "This is Y/n." The man opened his mouth to say something but Y/n interrupted him.

"What do you mean this isn't your world?" She questioned.

"Well you see darlin' we were on a case, an then an explosion went off and we were here. I can feel the change in the cosmic energy around us." The man spoke.

"How do you feel the cosmic energies?" Y/n questioned the man.

"My bad lady, I didn't introduce myself. I'm Lucifer Morningstar." He said with a smooth voice.

"You're Lucifer? Like the devil Lucifer?" She questioned.

"Yes." He replied. "The devil Lucifer."

"That can't be." She said mostly to herself.

"I know it sounds implausible but-"

"You're dead. We killed you this isn't possible. You're not Lucifer. You can't be." She whisper yelled at the man who claimed to be Lucifer.

Chloe looked back and forth between Lucifer, the smirk on his face was long gone and it was morphed into a serious expression,

"Can we rewind back to when she said we killed you'." He said looking at Chloe who seemed even more troubled. "Who even are you?"

"God, this day couldn't get any worse." Y/n sighed. The trio had now shifted to a table for four. Chloe sat beside Lucifer and Y/n infront of him. She had foregone the glass and was now directly drinking from the bottle of whiskey. She needed as much as alcohol she could to process this.

"So, you're telling me, you hunt monsters and Lucifer of this universe was locked in a cage in Hell and then your..boyfriend's brother let him out and he wreaked havoc so you pushed him back inside and later killed him when he came back?" Chloe asked tasting the words on her mouth because it sounds absurd when said out loud.

"I know it sounds weird when you put it like that but yeah." Y/n said with humorless chuckle. "You weren't locked?" She asked Lucifer.

"No, Father just kicked me out from Heaven, I ruled Hell for a while but then I got bored so I came to Earth and I'm detective's partner now."

"Wow, so you're not a dick like he was. Our universe's Lucifer should've learned a thing or two from you." She scoffed. "Anyways, so if you have your mojo you can't teleport yourself back to your universe?"

"Mojo?" Chloe questioned.

"His powers." Y/n clarified and the former nodded.

"You I haven't actually tried if they're working." Lucifer admitted.

"Bit slow, aren't you?" Y/n sassed Chloe snorted, she found it amusing, this woman is sassing the devil himself.

"You seem so unbothered it's like it's just another Tuesday for you." Chloe commented and Y/n muttered a small 'tell me about it'. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she answered call the call. It was Dean.

"Hey I'm almost here. I saw your car and I'm heading to the bar now." He said.

"Alright cool. See you soon." She said hanging up. She looked at the couple infront of her. "Dean's here, I'll ask him if we can help you somehow."

"Thank you so much, Y/n." Chloe said gratefully smiling at her. The former nodded and mumbled a quick, 'I'll be back' before leaving the bar.

She waited a few minutes before she saw the black Impala pulling up. She watched her boyfriend get out the car and she made her way towards him.

"Hey gorgeous." He cupped her cheeks and pulled her in for a kiss. "I could've come get you inside. You didn't have to wait outside." He said against her lips. She pulled away and bit her lip. Dean groaned as he recognised her expression.

~~~

"So you're telling me this Lucifer is British." Dean said looking at his girlfriend incredulously. The two of them had went inside and Y/n took her previous seat while Dean took one beside her.

"That's all you gathered from what I've told you?" Y/n asked her boyfriend and he shurgged. "Anyways, they need our help and i think we should help him."

"Really? You want to help the dick that possessed Sam and almost killed all of us twice?" Dean snapped. Lucifer seemed offended but he didn't comment.

"De, he's not him. That asshole is dead." Y/n added. Dean rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, his gaze scrutinising Lucifer. He then looked at Chloe who seemed helpless and then at his girlfriend who was sporting a pout.

"Fine." Dean sighed. "We'll help, but that doesn't mean I trust you." He warned the devil who raised his hands in surrender.

"Lucifer why don't you see if your mojo works in this universe as well?" Y/n suggested. Lucifer closed his eyes doing God knows what.

"Woah woah stop." Dean said to Lucifer, then turned to Y/n, "What if he's as juiced up as the one we encountered and blows up the place?"

"You're right, I guess." Chloe chimed in and turned to her partner, "why don't you do the thing?" She said to him and he smirked, it's clearly something he loves doing.

"The thing?" Y/n questioned.

"It's nothing harmful. I promise." Chloe replied.

"Y/n dear." Lucifer calls her and she looks at him, he leans a bit towards her making Dean's protective side take over.

"Hey back off." Dean growled but Chloe put a hand over his arm.

"Its okay." She reassured him.

"Tell me Y/n, what is it that you truly desire?" Lucifer asked but his smirk dropped.

"Am I supposed to feel anything or should I just tell you?" She questions.

"This usually works." Lucifer says. "I think I don't have my powers here."

"What were you even trying to do?" Dean questions.

"He can read into people's heart, find their deepest darkest desires." Chloe answers. "Things that you never tell anyone."

"Well maybe it didn't work because I don't have a secret desire." Y/n commented making Lucifer and Chloe look at her in disbelief.

"Everyone has something they desire." He retorted. "Things they never tell anyone."

"I agree but mine isn't hidden or a big secret, for me its Dean." She shrugged. "My deepest desire is to have a normal life with him a house, family, kids, the whole nine yards." She spoke as if it wasn't a big deal and Dean swore he felt himself fall for her all over again. He pecked her temple and Chloe gushed at them.

"Interesting." Lucifer commented.

"If you can feel the cosmic energy around here I'm sure you have your powers. Why don't you try it on Dean?" Y/n suggested.

"I think she's right." Chloe added.

Lucifer faced Dean and the latter shifted a bit under his observing gaze. "Tell me Dean, what is it that you truly desire?" He questioned the Winchester and Y/n watched in anticipation awaiting his answer. A few seconds passed before he answered and nothing could've prepared her for Dean's answer.

"Amara." That one was enough for Y/n's world to come crashing down on her. She felt herself tear up but she cleared her throat before speaking.

"Well at least your still have your powers." Chloe could hear the heartbreak in her voice and gave her a sympathetic look. Lucifer, who found this situation amusing, asked,

"Who's Amara?" Dean sucked in a sharp breath, glaring at the man in front of him, who just smirked in return. What could you expect from him, he's the Devil after all.

"Your Aunt." Y/n snapped unintentionally.

"Why, must you be this childish?" He asked, feeling offended.

"No literally. Amara is God's sister, the darkness. She was here a while back before we locked her up." Y/n explained her voice void of any emotion.

"I've never heard of her. She didn't exist in my universe." Lucifer replied. He pinched the bridge of his nose before adding, "one thing I've realised you lot's universe is way fucked than ours."

"I'll call Sam and ask if we know a way to open a portal to another universe. Excuse me." Y/n said getting up from her chair and walking out the bar. Dean immediately trailing behind her.

"Baby, Y/n." He called out for her but she didn't stop. She let tears fall free now that she wasn't in front of a crowd. "Sweetheart listen to me." He caught up with and turned her to look at him. He hated seeing her cry and hated it even more when he was the reason for her tears. "I can explain, please just..-"

"What's there to explain, Dean?" She cried. She harshly wipes her tears. "Do you want to add salt to wound, tell me it's pitiful that you don't want me as much as I want you?" She let out a sarcastic laugh. "You know what I realised?" She asked rhetorically. "It's always something before me, your car, Sam, Amara, hunting. I'm probably the last thing you need in your life." The moment she said that Dean felt like someone had shot him in the heart.

"No baby, don't say that." Dean begged holding her close. "It's not true. I want you more than anything in this entire world." She scoffed before pulling away from him.

"I need to call Sam. Even if he's been harmless until now, we don't need another Lucifer prancing around our world." She put some distance between them before calling Sam.

"Harmless, my ass." Dean muttered as he kicked the dirt on the road.

He needed to make this right, he wouldn't be able to live if he ever lost her and he needs her to know that. He has to make it right and he will be damned if he didn't.

Part 2

[captainsophiestark]

A Perfect Match

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day 19 Prompt: "What if we're wrong?"

Summary: Anthony and Y/N have been dancing around each other for far too long. Benedict and Colin decide to do something about that.

Word Count: 1,726

Category: Fluff, minor angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Benedict's POV

"Colin!" I hissed, poking my head into the study where my brother sat journaling about his travels. He looked up at me like he had no idea why I could be bothering him. "Lady Y/N is here."

"Oh!"

He shot out of his seat, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. We'd only been putting together our plan to get her and my brother together for a week. How he could've forgotten was beyond me.

"Alright, she's having tea with Eloise in the drawing room. I'm going to go get her and bring her to Anthony's study," I said as Colin and I walked through the halls. "You just be ready to come give me a reason to leave once we're in there."

Colin nodded, then paused.

"Benedict? What if we're wrong? About their feelings?"

I sighed. Anthony and Y/N truly did butt heads at every opportunity as if they hated each other. But it was hard to miss the longing looks and the way one of them got distracted just by the other walking into the room. I shrugged.

"Well, I suppose if we're wrong, they'll probably kill us."

Colin gave me a look, but I completely ignored it as I marched into the drawing room.

****************

Y/N's POV

"Y/N!"

I turned from my tea and the book spread between me and Eloise at the sound of Benedict's voice, giving him a friendly smile as he entered the room.

"Hello, Benedict. Lovely to see you."

"Likewise. Actually, I was wondering if you could spare a moment to accompany me upstairs? Anthony mentioned needing to see you for something, and I told him that since I was on my way down, I'd bring you back up."

"Anthony wanted to see me?" I asked, working very hard to keep my tone neutral. Benedict nodded.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

"Actually, we do mind," Eloise chimed in. "Tell Anthony he can get his own friend."

"Eloise, Mother wanted to see you as well," Benedict responded smoothly. "She's in the garden."

Eloise narrowed her eyes, and I watched the staring contest develop like a tennis match. Finally, after a few moments, Eloise gave in and stood with a sigh.

"Fine. I shall go find her. But if this is a ruse, Benedict-"

"For what purpose? You are entirely too suspiscious sister."

I hid a laugh behind my hand as Eloise glared at Benedict on her way out of the room. I truly loved the Bridgertons, and watching them interact was more entertaining than the most competitive horse race.

"Lady Y/N," said Benedict, offering his arm to me with a smile. I took it, my mind racing as Benedict and I made our way upstairs. Anthony and I had a rather unusual relationship, and although I'd never admit it, I had developed strong feelings for the Viscount over the course of knowing him. The curiosity over why he wanted to see me was eating me alive.

"Did Anthony mention what he wished to discuss?" I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.

"No, he only asked me to hurry," Benedict responded. We reached the door, and Benedict held it open for me. "After you."

I stepped inside, feeling a bit nervous. Anthony was hard at work, scribbling away at papers on his desk, but he looked up when he saw me.

"Lady Y/N! Hello, uh..." He cleared his throat and shuffled some of the papers into a neater pile absentmindedly.

"Here she is, brother, like you asked," said Benedict as he came to stand beside me. Anthony's brow furrowed like he was confused, but Colin poked his head into the study before Anthony could say anything.

"Benedict!" said Colin. "Mother sent me, she needs to see you immediately."

Now it was my turn to be a bit confused, especially as Benedict grimaced like Colin had some something wrong. Before I could say anything, however, Benedict was moving quickly towards the door.

"Right, well, then I'd better not keep her waiting."

With that, he and Colin ducked into the hall, closing the door behind them. A moment later I heard the door lock, and then a sound like something heavy being pushed against it from the other side.

"Did they just..."

I stared in shock at the door for a few moments, whirled around to look at Anthony, then turned back to the door again. Benedict and Colin had just locked me in here, with Anthony, who looked as surprised as I did.

After a long moment of inaction, Anthony pushed back from his desk and quickly crossed the room. I watched as he tried the door and it didn't budge, then tried it again. Finally, he shoved it a bit with his shoulder as if it were stuck, and still nothing worked.

"Benedict! Colin!" he shouted through the door. No response.

"Anthony?" He whirled around to face me, eyes a little wild. "Did you actually ask Benedict to bring me up here to talk about something?"

"What? No, I haven't seen Benedict all morning."

I crossed my arms and shook my head, turning away from Anthony.

"I can't believe those two. I can't believe them."

"What are you talking about?"

I huffed an irritated sigh, then answered without turning around.

"Benedict dragged me away from tea with Eloise, telling me you'd asked to see me, right away. I don't know what on earth he and Colin were thinking, but now I'm stuck in here with you-"

I stopped abruptly, not trusting myself to continue speaking. Anthony and I butted heads plenty, but there was no denying how much I enjoyed spending time with him. Sparring with him when we disagreed and never feeling angry, just excited. Laughing as he complained about having to participate in the season but feeling jealous when one of the other girls or Mamas got their hands on him... I loved him. But I wasn't sure I wanted to admit it.

"Is it really so awful?"

Anthony's voice was thick, more vulnerable than I'd really ever heard it before. I turned around to fix him with a questioning look, and he held my eyes, although he looked ready to run at a moment's notice. Unfortunately for him, we had nowhere to go.

"Is it really so awful to be stuck in here with me?" Anthony continued when I didn't answer him. "Do you really hate me so much?"

My heart shattered in my chest, especially at the tentative sadness in his voice. My answer didn't come right away, and after a second or two of silence, Anthony turned away.

"I'm sorry. Forget I said anything-"

"Anthony no I- I'm sorry." I started crossing the room to him, but stopped halfway, thinking better of it. "I have fun giving you a hard time and arguing over silly things with you. But if I've done that to the point that you feel I truly hate you... then I'm sorry, I should never have let it go that far."

Anthony turned to face me again, a guarded expression on his face.

"So you do not hate me?"

"No. Quite the opposite, actually."

I took a deep breath, steeling myself to say what I needed to say next. I trusted Benedict and Colin not to do this to me unless they had some idea that my feelings for Anthony were mutual. Hopefully, that trust wasn't misplaced, but even if it was, denying my feelings had only hurt Anthony and I both. It had to end.

"Anthony, I'm sure this will be considered entirely too forward for me to say as a lady, but... I rather think I love you. You challenge me in a way no other man ever has, and when we are aligned, our teamwork knows no equal. There may be other men who would treat me well, and there may even be other men who would respect me as a partner, but none of them would be you. You, Anthony... you are my perfect match. And if I've led you to believe I hated you, then I am truly sorry. I assure you I do not."

Anthony just stared back at me, not taking his eyes off me the entire time I spoke. He didn't respond right away after I finished, still just staring, his expression unreadable. I started to sweat and fidget, immediately regretting my words and wishing I could take them back.

"You know, Anthony, actually-"

Before I could finish the thought, Anthony rushed to close the rest of the distance between us, sweeping me off my feet and spinning me around in his arms. I yelped, but when he set me down, we both had massive smiles on our faces.

"I apologize. That was rather improper of me," he said, not sounding the least bit sorry. I smiled back and leaned into him a little more.

"No more improper than my confession, or your brothers locking us in this room together."

Anthony hummed, leaning into me and pulling me close to him again, one hand tangling in my hair as he murmured into my ear.

"I feel the same, you know. I have for some time. I just never imagined that you would care for me as much as I cared for you."

I smiled, wrapping my arms tight around Anthony and holding him close. After a few seconds, we pulled apart, and although I wanted to kiss him, badly, I held back. We'd already crossed quite a few scandalous lines, after all. And now that I knew he felt the same way as I did, I didn't think I'd have to wait long for our courtship to make quite a few more things I wanted to do 'acceptable'.

"I suppose we owe your brothers a thank you for getting us to confess our feelings to each other," I said with a sigh. Anthony scoffed.

"Absolutely not. They still tricked us and physically locked us in a room. No matter how happy I am with the results, they deserve some payback."

I grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Anthony led me back over to his desk where the two of us sat shoulder to shoulder, plotting and planning the downfall of his brothers. I had no idea how long they intended to leave us in this room, but every additional minute meant more time to plan revenge.

Happily, it also meant more time with Anthony. And with any luck, the rest of my life would be filled with more time with Anthony.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

[misswynters]

Wings of Camaraderie

Jacaerys Velaryon x reader x Addam of Hull

[warning: none

[word count: 2.3k

[note | was supposed to be a drabble…got carried away also you are the betrothed of our beloved jace. you have a platonic relationship with addam

[a/n: aero makes an appearance again!!! also this a peaceful version, no usurping or anything.

[requested: by anon

A golden hue by the morning sunrise was casted over Dragonstone, painting the castle in a majestic light. The sea waves crashed rhythmically against the cliffs, their whispers blending with the morning breeze. You, Lady ___ of House Lannister, stood at the balcony overlooking the beautiful sea, your betrothal to Prince Jacaerys Velaryon a bond that promised strength and unity between your houses.

"Good morning," Jacaerys' voice broke through the tranquil morning, his warm presence filling the space beside you. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple, his dark curls brushing against your skin. "Couldn't sleep?"

You shook your head, smiling up at him. "Just admiring the view. It's beautiful here."

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. "Not as beautiful as you."

A playful scoff escaped your lips. "You say that now. Wait until you see me after a long day of riding."

He smirked and let out a chuckle, his laughter a deep rumble that resonated in your chest. "Riding what, exactly?” He asked, the smirk still painted on his lips.

You wanted to act oblivious to his response however you couldn’t keep a straight face. You began to chuckle to yourself, turning away from his face due to your immaturity. Jace cleared his throat, trying to relieve the sudden awkwardness, “Well even then, you'd outshine the sun."

Your eyes met again, a silent understanding passing between you. Despite the political nature of your union, there was genuine affection and respect growing between you. Jacaerys was kind, thoughtful, and brave—everything you had hoped for in a husband.

A knock on the door interrupted your moment. You turned to see Addam Velaryon, Jacaerys' cousin and your close friend, standing at the entrance. His smile was bright and infectious, a contrast to the serious demeanor he often wore during training.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," Addam said, stepping inside. "I thought I'd join you for breakfast."

"You're always welcome," Jacaerys replied, gesturing for Addam to join you on the balcony. "The more, the merrier."

The three of you settled at the table, the morning sun casting a warm glow over your faces. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared memories. Addam recounted a particularly amusing incident from his childhood, making you and Jacaerys laugh heartily.

"Do you remember when we tried to fly Seasmoke without permission?" Addam grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "We were nearly caught by the dragonkeepers."

Jacaerys laughed, shaking his head. "How could I forget? We barely made it back without being scorched."

You smiled, enjoying the camaraderie between the two cousins. Their bond was evident, forged through shared experiences and mutual respect. You felt fortunate to be welcomed into this close-knit family, your own bonds with them growing stronger each day.

As breakfast came to an end, Addam suggested a ride along the beach. "It's a perfect day for it. What do you say?"

You and Jacaerys exchanged a glance, both nodding in agreement. "Let's do it," Jacaerys said, his eyes shining with excitement.

The three of you made your way to the stables, the scent of hay and horses filling the air. You chose your steeds, each one a magnificent example of the Velaryon stables' prowess. Your horse, a beautiful chestnut mare named Sunfire, nickered softly as you approached.

Mounting your horses, you rode down to the beach, the wind whipping through your hair and the sound of hooves thundering against the sand. The freedom and exhilaration of the ride filled your senses, the world narrowing down to just the three of you and the endless horizon.

As you slowed your pace, Jacaerys and Addam rode up beside you, their expressions mirroring your own joy. "This is what life should be," Addam said, his voice filled with contentment. "Moments like these."

Jacaerys nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Agreed. It's easy to forget what's truly important with all the responsibilities we bear."

You smiled, feeling a deep sense of belonging. "And what's that?" you asked, curious.

"Family, friends, love," Jacaerys replied, his eyes meeting yours. "Those are the things that matter most."

Addam nodded in agreement, his expression sincere. "And loyalty. Standing by each other, no matter what."

The three of you continued your ride, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment. As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the beach, you knew that this was only the beginning of a lifelong journey filled with love, friendship, and loyalty.

Back at the castle, you found yourselves gathered in the Great Hall, a roaring fire in the hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls. The day's ride had left you exhilarated and more connected than ever.

"Let's make a toast," Jacaerys said, raising his goblet. "To new beginnings and unbreakable bonds."

"To friendship and loyalty," Addam added, his goblet joining Jacaerys'.

"And to love," you finished, your heart swelling with affection for the two men beside you.

The goblets clinked together, the sound ringing out like a promise. As you sipped the rich wine, you felt a deep sense of gratitude. The bonds you were forging here, with Jacaerys and Addam, were as strong as dragonfire and as enduring as the tides.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the love of your new family, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. And together, you would be unstoppable.

Days turned into weeks, and you found yourself settling into life at Dragonstone with ease. The castle's ancient halls and vast libraries became your sanctuary, and the island's rugged beauty a constant source of inspiration. Each day brought new adventures and deeper connections with Jacaerys and Addam.

One particularly bright morning, you awoke to find a note slipped under your door. Unfolding the parchment, you read Jacaerys' familiar handwriting: Meet us at the training grounds after breakfast. We have a surprise for you.

Intrigued, you quickly dressed and made your way to the Great Hall. The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread and spiced honey filled the air as you joined Jacaerys and Addam at the breakfast table.

"Good morning," you greeted them, your curiosity piqued. "What's this about a surprise?"

Jacaerys exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Addam. "You'll see soon enough. Eat up—we have a big day ahead."

After a hearty breakfast, the three of you walked to the training grounds. The crisp morning air was filled with the sounds of clashing swords and the grunts of soldiers in training. As you approached, you noticed a group of dragonkeepers gathered around a familiar figure.

"Surprise!" Jacaerys announced, gesturing toward the dragon. "We thought it was time for you to bond with a dragon of your own."

Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight before you. The dragon was a magnificent creature, its scales shimmering with hues of crimson. You recognized it as Aero, one of the untamed dragons of dragonstone. Which you once met on a previous day, the dragon was kinda fond of you. However he left abruptly before hours can claim him.

"He’s beautiful," you whispered, awe-struck.

Addam stepped forward, a reassuring smile on his face. "Go on. Approach him slowly and confidently."

With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, you walked toward Aero. The dragon's eyes, intelligent and ancient, watched you closely. As you extended a hand, Aero lowered his head, allowing you to touch his warm scales.

A sense of wonder and connection washed over you as you felt the dragon's breath against your skin. It was as if you could feel his heartbeat, a steady rhythm that mirrored your own.

"He’s accepted you," Jacaerys said, his voice filled with pride. "You are now his rider."

Tears of joy welled up in your eyes as you looked at Jacaerys and Addam. "Thank you. This means more to me than you can imagine."

Over the following weeks, you spent countless hours with Aero, learning to communicate with him and strengthen your bond. Jacaerys and Addam often joined you, their own dragons a constant presence. The three of you became inseparable, your friendship deep ening with each shared experience.

One day, as you were practicing aerial maneuvers with Aero, Jacaerys and his dragon Vermax flew alongside you. Addam, riding Seasmoke, joined shortly after. The three dragons moved in perfect harmony, a testament to the bond their riders shared.

"We make a formidable team," Jacaerys shouted over the wind, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Indeed we do," Addam agreed, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Imagine what we could accomplish together."

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over Dragonstone, you and your companions descended to the beach. The day's practice had left you exhilarated and invigorated. The dragons landed gracefully, their mighty wings creating gusts of wind that sent the sand swirling.

Sitting around a campfire, you shared stories and laughter. Jacaerys, ever the storyteller, regaled you with tales of his ancestors and their legendary deeds. Addam, with his quick wit, kept you entertained with amusing anecdotes and clever remarks.

The night was filled with warmth, the bond between you three growing stronger with each passing moment. As the fire crackled and the stars twinkled above, you felt a deep sense of contentment.

"To our friendship," Jacaerys said, raising a goblet of wine. "May it endure through all trials and tribulations."

"To loyalty," Addam added, clinking his goblet against Jacaerys'. "May we always stand by each other."

"And to love," you finished, your heart swelling with affection for the two men beside you. "May it guide us and keep us strong."

The goblets clinked together, the sound ringing out like a promise. As you sipped the rich wine, you felt a profound sense of gratitude. The bonds you were forging with Jacaerys and Addam were as strong as dragonfire and as enduring as the tides.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the love of your friends, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

The months passed in a blur of training, laughter, and shared adventures. Your bond with Jacaerys and Addam deepened with each passing day. The castle of Dragonstone became your home, its ancient walls a sanctuary of love and camaraderie.

One day, as you practiced your swordsmanship with Addam, a messenger arrived with a scroll bearing the Lannister sigil. You unrolled the parchment and read the message from your father, Lord Tyland Lannister.

My dear ___,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. Your mother and I are eager to hear news of your life at Dragonstone and the progress of your betrothal to Prince Jacaerys.

I have received word of an upcoming tournament in King's Landing to celebrate the birth of Prince Aegon Targaryen, Rhaenyra's son. It would be a splendid opportunity for you to showcase your dragonriding skills and for us to reunite as a family. Your mother and I look forward to seeing you soon.

With love, Father

You shared the news with Jacaerys and Addam, excitement bubbling within you. The prospect of the tournament and reuniting with your family filled you with anticipation.

"A tournament in King's Landing sounds like a perfect opportunity," Jacaerys said, a smile spreading across his face. "We can showcase our dragons."

Addam nodded, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "And it will be a chance to demonstrate the strength of House Velaryon and House Lannister.”

As the days passed, you prepared for the journey to King's Landing, your excitement growing with each passing moment. The thought of showcasing your bond with Aero and reuniting with your family filled you with a sense of purpose and pride.

The journey to King's Landing was filled with breathtaking vistas. As you approached the capital, the sight of the Red Keep towering above the city filled you with awe.

The tournament grounds were abuzz with activity, knights and nobles from across the realm gathering to celebrate and compete. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and the clashing of swords.

On the day of the tournament, you donned your finest armor, a striking combination of Lannister crimson and Velaryon silver. Jacaerys and Addam were equally resplendent, their presence commanding attention as they rode alongside you.

As the tournament commenced, you watched in awe as knights jousted and fought with unmatched skill and valor. When it was time for the dragonriding event, you felt a surge of excitement and nerves.

Mounting Aero, you soared into the sky, the wind rushing past you as you performed daring maneuvers and breathtaking aerial displays. The crowd below erupted in cheers and applause, their admiration fueling your determination.

Jacaerys and Addam joined you in the sky, their dragons moving in perfect harmony with Sunfyre. The three of you performed a mesmerizing display of dragonriding prowess, showcasing the strength and unity of your bond.

As you landed, the crowd's applause was deafening, their cheers a testament to the success of your performance. Your father and mother, beaming with pride, rushed to embrace you.

"We are so proud of you," your father said, his voice filled with emotion. "You have brought great honor to House Lannister."

Your mother nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. "And you have found a true family in House Velaryon."

The days that followed were filled with celebrations and festivities, the bonds between your houses growing even stronger. As you danced and laughed with Jacaerys and Addam, you felt a deep sense of fulfillment and happiness.

Your journey had led you to forge bonds that were unbreakable, and your future was filled with promise and hope. No matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew that with Jacaerys and Addam by your side, you could face anything.

As the sun set over King's Landing, casting a warm, golden glow over the city, you felt a profound sense of gratitude. The bonds you had forged with Jacaerys and Addam were as strong as dragonfire and as enduring as the tides.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @beebeechaos @spn-obession

banner: @cafekitsune

[saiyanprincessswanie]

Need You Now

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky thinks about the hurt he caused you as he is left with memories of happier times. Does he get a second chance at life with you?

Warning: Angst, sadness, drinking, hope?

Word Count: 1125

A/N: Thank you to my beta readers @pigwidgeonxo​ & @lfnr-blog-blog-blog​ & @music-culture-mythology (any mistakes on spelling & grammar are my own. Did this on my phone)

A/N 2: This used to be a Dean Winchester fic but since I write for Marvel only I'm switching this to a Bucky Barnes fic.

A/N 3: Song fic, Need You Now by Lady Antebellum. Lyrics in Bold.

Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜

I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps, or third-party sites. If you see my work anywhere else besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts then it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫

Bucky is such a fool. He let the one person he loves the most leave after an argument. He said a lot of hateful things to push you away and it seems that this time it might be for good. Why couldn’t he see that he deserved a life away from constantly going on missions? You’re willing to settle down with him and give him the normal life that he always dreamed of. Now he is haunted by pictures of you both together in happier times scattered everywhere. His phone is in his hand ready to dial your number but would you pick it up? Has he crossed your mind as you have with him? Screw it, he dials your number and lets it ring. But you don’t pick up. God, he was such a fool to let you go. 

Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor

Reaching for the phone 'cause I can't fight it anymore

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?

For me, it happens all the time

Bucky looks at the clock and sees that it’s a quarter after one in the morning. The feeling of loneliness swarms over him as he drinks his whiskey slowly. He thinks back to the sadness in your eyes when you ask him, “Are you sure you want this?” God, no he didn’t want this to end but he was too proud of a man to admit it. Looking at the locked screen on his phone he sees your smiling face. He wants to call again, though a part of him tells himself to let you go so you can be happy. Bucky doesn’t know what he’ll do without you but if this is what a broken heart feels like he never wants to feel it again. The other part of him is screaming that he needs you. He needs to see your smiling face, hear your laughter, and taste your lips. What he would give to have you come through that door again and tell him you can’t live without him. Though if he was honest he doesn’t know how he is going to live without you. Dialing your number again he silently prays that you will pick the phone up but it goes to voicemail. 

It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now

Said I wouldn't call but I've lost all control and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without

I just need you now

Another shot of whiskey, can't stop looking at the door

Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before

And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?

For me, it happens all the time

Bucky pours another glass of whiskey as he thinks about the life you could have had together. You both had talked about having a family one day and getting that little house with a yard big enough for a dog. Yes, that was the life that could have been. But it’s all a distant memory now. He should have never allowed going on missions so much to be the deal breaker between you both. He deserves a chance at a normal life. Grabbing the glass of whiskey he downs it in one gulp. Bucky promised he wouldn’t call but fuck it. While he has the courage he quickly dials your number and listens while it rings. After the fifth time ringing, it goes to voicemail.  Dammit, he screwed up. He just hopes that you’re sleeping and not ignoring his call. Maybe he should try to sleep as he is feeling a little buzzed. Though how could he sleep knowing you won’t be there in the morning? As Bucky leans back on the couch he tells himself he would rather have these hurt feelings than feel empty inside. Unbeknownst to him, his finger dials your number again. 

It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now

Said I wouldn't call but I've lost all control and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without

I just need you now

Guess I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all

It's a quarter after one, I'm all alone and I need you now

And I said I wouldn't call but I'm a little drunk and I need you now

And I don't know how I can do without

I just need you now

Bucky shut his eyes for a few minutes and woke up to someone shaking him. He groans his disapproval and slowly opens his eyes. There you are staring at him with a sad smile on your face.

“Bucky, I saw you called me several times. Is everything okay?” You sound concerned as you ask him. He looks awful and smells heavily of whiskey. You notice the pictures of you both are scattered everywhere.

He looked over to the clock on the wall and it was just after three in the morning. You came over this late? “I’m fine, sweetheart. I was just drinking some whiskey. No need to worry about me.”

“Does this have anything to do with the argument we had?” You question him as you look at how much whiskey is missing from the bottle. 

He sighs. “No, yes, maybe. I just wanted you to know I didn’t mean anything that I said earlier. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life. I want the future we talked about. I want out of the Avengers if you still want to as well. Just say the word and it’s done.”

Tears spill down your cheeks as you nod your head. “I do want that but Bucky you hurt me. Saying you don’t want kids…”

“I was an idiot. I do want them with you. I want the house, the yard, everything. Just give me a chance to prove myself to you.”

A small smile flashes across your face. “Well, I hope you’re serious because Bucky I’m pregnant.”

Bucky sits up quickly and pulls you into his lap. He kisses you passionately, tongues slowly dancing together as you grip him harder against you. When he pulled away so you could both breathe he let out a chuckle. “I’m so freaking happy.” Finally, everything is going to be alright. You need each other and so both of you vow to never make drastic decisions again. Today is the beginning of your forever, just the three of you. 

***

@americasass81

@astheskycries

@awesomerextyphoon

@caffiend-queen

@caplanbuckybarnes

@denisemarieangelina

@fictional-affairs

@georgiapeach30513

@get0verit

@hollybee8917

@joannie95

@jobean12-blog

@jtargaryen18

@jvanilly

@labella420

@lfnr-blog-blog-blog

@madscape

@mdemontespan1667

@missvelvetsstuff

@mrsmischief209

@mycrazyasslikestoread

@nekoannie-chan

@noellez-best-life23

@notyourtypicalrose

@patzammit

@princessofdarkwinter

@rayofdawnworld

@spectre-posts

@sweater-daddiesdumbdork

@talia-rumlow

@thefallenbibliophilequote

@what-is-your-plan-today

@wolfsmom1

[xan-izme]

Dubble life (ACTSV x reader x Batfam) 2

Part 1, Part 3

Summary: Reader struggles to get used to their new life in Gotham. Worrying constantly about her family in New York. A rise of tension rises between readers father figure Aaron and her real father Bruce.

After the dinner, you got yourself ready for bed. The old boombox player you had was playing soft music in the background.

You turned the lights off, slipped into bed and stared at absolutely nothing. Even with the soft music playing, you were just itching to break into your suit and jump from building to building. You were missing your life as Spider-Woman. You missed your aunt and uncles. You missed your cousin. He was literally your twin.

You practically bawled your eyes out while saying goodbye to him. Suddenly, your train of thought was broken when you heard a ringing sound. You sat you and grabbed your phone, for some reason, hoping that it was your mother calling, telling you she was going to be home late tonight.

It wasn't your mother, of course, it was Miles, your cousin. You happily accepted the call. "Miles! oh my God, I missed you!" You could hear the boy chuckle on the other side of the phone.

"We saw each other this morning."

You pout and groan "I know! but it feels like it's been days." You knew you were acting like a toddler, but don't you deserve to act like this? After the nights filled with crime, days filled with unwanted drama.

You and Miles stayed on the phone. Not much talking involved. Talking was too much to do, knowing that they couldn't say the usual 'See you tomorrow' or Miles reminding you to be safe on your little outings. You did end up crying at one point, which caused Miles to tear up, but you don't know that, and he would like to keep it that way.

The next few weeks went by in a blink of an eye, dinner most of the times ended up just being you and Alfred, which you understand, knowing Bruce is busy, and Damian doesn't really like you. Tim would join you for lunch at times. You soon found out Tim was a geek. Which made you talk and ramble off about your plans for the future. Besides from that, you were mostly alone in the house.

Now it was your first day of school, your uncle Aaron offered to drive you for your first day. You asked Bruce for permission first of course.

Bruce at first wanted to say no, but when he pondered about it. It would be good for you to be with someone you knew better to be with you on your first day.

But Bruce looked into Aron. The man was trouble, used to be involved in lots of bad people back in the day. Just to be safe, Bruce decided to tag along. This would also help Bruce get closer to you, get to know the real you.

Putting aside the formalities and the instant obedience you give him.

The doorbell rang, Alfred opened the door and see Aaron standing with a blank expression, one matching Alfreds. "Ah, Mister Davies. Lady Y/n is curently getting ready. Please follow me."

Without any words, Aaron follows Alfred to a room. Thats where he meets Bruce.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Davies." Bruce puts a smile on his face and extended his hand to greet. Aaron smiled a little and shook his hand

"Same here. And Aaron is fine."

The two men sat down and began to talk. It was normal, but only for a small amount of time. The tension in the room began to rise when Aaron's past was brought up.

". . . I admit. I went down the wrong path when I was younger. But I grew out of that mess. But if this is about Y/n, then I guaranty you she is nothing like me. She's a good girl."

"I know she is. I'm not suggesting anything Ill towards my daughter."

Aaron chuckled "Daughter? Don't take this personally. But she ain't your daughter. Not till she says so."

Before any real argument could be made, you came busting in the room. "Uncle Aaron!"

"Baby girl!" Aron at up and opened his arms for a hug.

You ran into the man's arms. Giggling as Aaron gave your head a kiss.

"Look at you. In your little uniform."

You smiled more and twirled around for Aaron to see the whole fit better. "You like it?"

"I love it."

The car ride was a little awkward, but at least it wasn't fully awkward.

Aaron gave you some money and a few good luck kisses and I love You's from Rio. You gave Bruce a hug goodbye.

It's been almost a month since Spider-woman was last seen. Tim did take an interest in this Spider-woman and was going to offer her to join the Young Justice League. You were just one person looking after New York all on your own, with no help. It was very impressive.

But now Spider-Woman was just nowhere to be seen. She has just gone MIA. Now the Prowler was taking care of the city. The media has gone crazy after the disappearance of Spider-woman.

'WHERE IS SPIDER-WOMAN?'

'SPIDER-WOMAN ON THE RUN?'

What did catch Tim's attention was the last time Spider-Woman was seen was the day Y/n's mother died. A lot of people were hurt that day Only one dead, which was your mother. Tim has come to a small theory that the death of your mother is connected to the disappearance of Spider-woman.

It's been a full week since you started school, the first day, teachers were really nice to you. They already knew about your mother, which had them pity you. And Bruce being your father made them extra nice. You already didn't like the kids. Seeing them as fake. Because they were. Those smiling faces, those empty words.

You knew them all too well. You do the same, fake knows fake, guess that's what you could call it. Damian was of course no help. Ignoring you as much as he could. Which you didn't actually care.

Why would you care for someone who clearly don't care for you? No need to waste any energy on him. You did take interest in a few clubs. You did need to pick one that you didn't have to attend all the time. One that didn't need too much of your attention. So, you picked the art club.

You saw how much kids were in there, with those number of kids, no one expects you to get to know them all, nor make friends with them all. There are also very talented kids in the club, and the art they do isn't your style, so you're not the best. Which was in a way, good to keep cover.

Right now, you were at the manor. Your uncle dropped off the extra books you left at his place. half of your room looked a section in a library. You knew there was a library in the manor. But they weren't your books. Even if Bruce insists that most of the things in the manor was also yours, that's not how you saw it.

The things you brought from New York was yours, the cloths, books, pictures. You just felt like a guest. Nothing else.

You were curently in your room, listening to a playlist Miles made for you. You were just finishing up your homework when you heard a knock on your door.

"Y/n? It's me, Bruce." The voice on the other side of the door spoke. "Come in!" You say, just loud enough for him to hear.

Bruce enters the room, when he sees you, a small smile graces his lips. You gave him an awkward smile as you wait for what he needed to tell you.

"My schedule is cleared out today. I was wondering if you wanted to go out shopping with me." Bruce was taking a look around your room. Looking at the items you kept on shelves, pictures. Trying to know what you would like, so he could buy something for you that was more of your style.

"And me!" Suddenly Dick popped out of the door with a bright smile on his face. "Nice room." Drick mumbled as he went near your bookshelf. Seeing what books, you were into.

"Ah. . . I would love to, sir- Bruce. But I don't got much on me." You had your own card, you had about 300 or 500 in. But you don't use it unless you're out and really need something to eat. On top of that, you kind of have a spending problem you need to control.

"No need to worry about that." Bruce pulled out his card "It's all on me."

You had no choice but to go with them. You sat in the back seat. Dick in the passenger seat while Bruce was driving. "How's school? make any friends?" Dick spoke up, turning down the volume of the radio. "Oh, it's alright. Me a few kids, they were pretty nice."

The car pulled up to a store. You walked in with the two men and started looking around. You saw plushies that looked really cute. "Can I get these?" You pointed at the plushies and looked up to Bruce for permision.

"Of course." Dick grabbed the plushies and you all started to get more things. Clothes, shoes. You were pretty satisfied with what you had. Bruce purchased what you had picked out, along with a few dresses Dick picked out for you.

Bruce was able to talk to you more. He knows that you like a lot of music genres, you seem to have a deep bond with your cousin Miles and your uncle Aaron. You speak highly of Miles, like he was a sun in the sky to praise.

Bruce was still hooked up on what Aaron had said. Bruce knows that he can't fix the sixteen years he missed in your life, but he wants to try and be there for you now. Try to break down that fake smile of yours.

What? You think he didn't notice.?

Bruce knows what pain looks like. And he can see it all over you. In your actions, your words. In your voice. Whatever makes you cry, whatever fears you have. Bruce will make them all go away. And he is determined to earn the title as your father. For you to finally call him by that title.

Because he's your father. And that's what fathers do.

[weirdsht]

Die With A Smile - Cale/Reader

a/n: yes it's from the new lady gaga and bruno mars song. I noticed how reader always seems to be on the dying side in my fics so...

oh and I cried to the point of dehydration when I wrote this lol

tags: reader gender not specified, angst, tragedy, injuries, possibility of death, open ending

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist

Cale Henituse is such a selfish person. 

He continues to make unreasonable demands even when in this crucial moment.

Can’t he see the tears streaming down your face? Can’t he feel the sadness and grief overtaking your entire being?

Can’t he tell that his the reason why you’re in this state?

He probably could. His Cale Henituse after all, the ever so intelligent commander. The young master that can ensure everyone’s survival even in the direst situations.

Everyone but his.

And that’s why his so so selfish.

“Are you really telling me what to do after you’re gone?”

You cried as you felt his weak hand caress your cheeks. His hands are soft, pampered. Unlike his hands when he was Kim Rok Soo; rough and calloused. Not that it mattered much.

As long as it was him, the man you loved, it didn’t matter what his hand felt on your skin.

Cale Henituse chuckled lightly as if nothing was wrong. As if it was just a normal day in the underground villa where the two of you are lazing around.

It made you wish that Raon was here to smack some sense into him.

But alas he wasn’t. In fact, no one was around. It was just the two of you. No Raon, no Choi Han, no Eruhaben, no Rosalyn.

No way out of this damned cave.

“Stop laughing! I’m not joking!”

You couldn’t help but shout at him. You’re hands working hard to wipe every blood that comes out of his mouth, his eyes, his ears, his… 

His…

You can’t tell where the blood is coming from anymore. 

His blood-soaked hand continued to caress your cheek. Blood smearing everywhere, but you didn’t care. You can’t when you can feel his hand growing colder with each stroke.

Your lover was so selfish.

Oh so so so selfish.

“We’re both injured you dipship.”

“You have a higher chance of survival than me. I made sure of it.”

Despite everything, he still thought of you. Yet he failed to think of what you would be if he were gone. Never considered how grey your world would become without his unprompted snarky remarks.

“Is this your payback for me dying back on Earth?”

You laid down beside him. The ground was hard as you already sacrificed every piece of clothing you both had to make Cale comfortable. Everything was quiet and peaceful. If it weren’t for the fact that both of you were injured you would have relished in it.

“Maybe… perhaps I wanted you to know how I felt that day– Agh! Fuck it hurts!”

Cale tried to joke but was cut off because his entire body shook with pain once more.

Trying to ease his pain, you held his hand. Squeezing it as you felt your own injuries hurt and throb. Both of you found solace in each other in this dark cave.

“How are your injuries? Especially the one on your side?”

The redhead inquired as he felt your hold tightened. He was probably in so much more pain than you are. But still… still, he insists on prioritizing you.

“Better than your plate could ever be.”

You omitted the part where your side is still profusely bleeding. He didn’t need another stressor when he was already one foot on death’s door.

Turning over to your side hurt, especially since you’re now crushing your wound. But you did it, just so you could stare at his face for probably the last time in this life.

“I know that it’s bleeding. I’m not dumb, lie on your back.”

Silence lingered in the cave as you said nothing. It was enough to tell Cale that you’re not gonna follow.

For what felt like hours, the two of you simply held each other’s hand. Racing to see who will give in the their injuries first.

Cale rested his forehead on yours. It felt magnetic, or maybe that was just the sticky blood. You aren’t so sure, but it felt comforting.

That was until he opened his mouth once more.

“Hey what if I pass over my ancient powers—”

“Don't you fucking dare.”

Both of you could barely speak, yet here you are still arguing.

It reminded you of all the times the two of you bickered over the smallest things.

Then it reminded you of how this was probably the last time you would be able to do so.

Cale seems to have a similar line of thoughts as he shuts up once more. A faint smile was visible on his face, probably remembering the times you spent together.

You squeezed his arm as black spots began dancing around your vision. They looked tempting, they looked like they could relieve the pain you were feeling.

But you resisted, if Cale was fighting then you’re fighting too.

“Hey…”

Cale Henituse started again after a few minutes.

“I don’t like this pain anymore…”

“You never liked pain…”

The love of your life chuckled because it was true. His chuckle was weak, almost lifeless. You tried to laugh too but couldn’t for you know the implication of those words.

Cale Henituse is reaching his limits.

And honestly, you were reaching yours too.

But you didn’t like that. You want for the both of you to live, to get out of this hellish place together.

“...I don’t like this pain anymore too.”

“See… I told you haha…”

You had no choice but to admit it. You don’t know what will happen after this. Cale said he ensured for you to have a higher chance of survival but it’s been hours. It’s a miracle none of you have dropped dead yet.

Removing your forehead from Cale’s you lifted yourself a little. It was so that you could kiss him.

Again, for possibly the last time in this lifetime.

You used the strength you didn’t have to land that one last kiss. Both of you are weak, but passion dominates the kiss. As if each of you were trying to put in the last of your vitality in this kiss. Trying to give it to the other person so they can live longer.

“I love you.”

“You’re my everything.”

Cale and you simultaneously muttered as the kiss broke. You laid back down once more to try and ease the pain that flared up over your little stunt.

Everything hurts, there’s a puddle of blood underneath the two of you, Cale was slowly losing consciousness.

But the two of you had smiles on your faces.

Because the two of you got to experience your last moments in each other's arms.

That was better than dying alone in this cold and dark cave that held you hostage.

However, tears fell from your eyes as you witnessed Cale desperately blinking to stay awake. It was finally sinking in that at least one of you might die here.

Both of you might die here.

There were still so many things the two of you didn’t do. Both of you had promised to take the children on another shopping spree next week. You promised Lock and the other wolf children that you would teach them some martial arts you learned back on Earth. Cale promised Choi Han that they would replenish the flowers in the cemetery in Harris Village.

Though that last one might turn into Choi Han having to lower flowers for both of you.

“My love… my dearest…”

You were so weak that you couldn’t continue your words. But Cale didn’t need words for he could understand you from your breath alone, and you from his.

“Don’t… cry…”

How dare he have the nerve to say that when there are tears streaming down his face too?

Cale used the very last of his strength to bring your joined hands towards his lips. It was his last act of comfort. His last act of love.

“I love… y ou… I’ll… al way s  will…”

With that Cale Henituse’s eyes closed. His hand still holding onto yours. Still pressed against his almost blue lips.

“I… I lo ve… you too…”

Then you followed suit.

As you closed your eyes you think you could hear desperate screams break the silence in the cave. Desperate and anxious screams that oddly sounded like Eruhaben. Then mixed in it are tensed orders from someone who sounded similar to Alberu.

But you didn’t have any strength left to check if you were hallucinating. So you closed you eyes and gave into the abyss waiting to comfortably embrace you.

“...CALE!”

You shouted the moment you woke up. You think you sat up but you weren’t sure. Too disoriented from your injuries and painkillers. 

You think you could feel hands trying to make you lie back down again but you weren’t sure. Even if you were, you didn’t care.

Ignoring the hands trying to subdue you, you tried to feel around for Cale. There were bandages covering your eyes, you realise just now. It seemed like you’re lying down on a bed as it felt soft.

But those weren’t the things you were looking for.

“Cale!? Where’s Cale!?”

You shouted, despair and anguish evident in your voice. There’s a bunch of textures you can feel. Lots of scents you could smell. Tons of voices you could hear.

However, none of them were Cale’s.

Not a single one of them felt like your lover’s.

[3vln]

Ravens and Stallions: Ch. 1

Pairings: D. Blackwood x Bracken!Reader

Words: 3,800+

C.W.: probably needs LOTS of revisions. lots of time-inaccurate privileges (ladies allowed in taverns?? modern dilly-dallying), lots of cringe-worthy moments trying to add Westerosi/British slang into the mix (would love help on this) OCs, enemies-to-lovers, Romeo & Juliet-esque, non-canon stuff, no smut yet but will have (so MINORS DNI) My Lady Jane-type of banter.

Summary: Someone’s broken heart is how the day got started; for someone else, it was how it ended.

There was nothing special about meeting the Blackwood boy, at first. And he thought the same about you. It wasn’t love at first sight, or anything like that. But it was a gradual thing as you both got to know each other throughout the evening. It was a meeting by chance.

See, your respective friend groups had taken you both out to the nearby town of Harroway for some drinks; for the Blackwood boy, he’d heard talks about war looming, and the time to enjoy his livelihood, and his time being alive… well, he knew it would be short. He needed to make the days he had on Earth count.

And you, you were staying at your aunt’s house in Harroway to accompany your heartbroken friend to get drinks with a few others. While you weren’t someone who usually snuck out to drink, and had a good head on your shoulders, times like these where you enjoyed yourself were few and sparse. It was easier to obtain forgiveness from Aunt Jeyne than to ask your parents for permission.

So, as you were drinking your wine and comforting your distraught friend with the others, you briefly met, unbeknownst to you, the eyes of a rival.

“He had used me! I know he did, that rat bastard!” your wailing friend had choked out, snapping your attention to her. The other two friends made agreeable comments to comfort their hurting friend. In a loud tavern full of bustling noises, no one else had paid attention to her besides the friend group. It drowned out the quiet sobs and prevented any unnecessary attention.

You tried to encourage her with words of affirmation in an effort to lighten up her mood, it pained you to find close ones in pain, especially if it could have been prevented. “Lyanne, you can’t let that boy dictate how you live your life,” you heartened. The others agreed and chimed in with more affirming reflections. You eyed the table’s supply of wine and ale and sighed. “Moon tea will serve you best if it interests you, and please pray to the Maiden. Let’s get you another round of drinks for now; what do you say?” Lyanne wasn’t much of a devout, but she still took the advice to heart; smiling through her sad smile and teary eyes, she reminded herself to thank her friend later.

As you got up, another from the friend group joined you, making small talk about the unfortunate girl’s heartbreak and thanking you for joining them and for bringing fun and reason into the conversation.

“Although, I really think she should look into another man’s arms for comfort,” she mentioned coyly upon arrival to the bar.

“Bellena!” you quietly exclaimed with a smile before turning your back to order. You were too lost in your blush but thought about agreeing. Truth be told, it wasn’t a terrible idea. Not the best and ladylike, but nonetheless. Crying over failures was futile, and it was best to occupy perplexed thoughts with distractions.

An unfamiliar voice behind you tried for an unsolicited introduction between you both with a “Lost are we, ladies?” You quietly exchanged unimpressed looks.

A man with a sly grin had presented himself, mostly towards your friend; while weak of an introduction, yes, you saw Bellena’s gears start to work, most likely thinking of ways to see how she could use this to their advantage.

It was beautiful to see her magic work in real time, as she smiled sweetly, flirted with her eyes, and informed the man they’ve come for sweet libations from handsome men. “I see we’ve come to the right place,” she added. They maintained a bit of prolonged eye contact and, truthfully, you couldn’t fault either.

Bellena, of House Piper, was a natural beauty. Dark, cherry-red hair adorned her, and she truly embodied her house words of “Brave and Beautiful.”

The man before her was tall and handsome, Dornish-looking in a way – dark skin and thick eyebrows. You weren’t sure what house he was from, but Bellena thought it didn’t matter on nights like these. No one was dressed for battle and expressed their house colors tonight. The ladies themselves were anonymous in a way, dressed as common folk or servants having the night off to avoid the attention if dressed in their usual silks.

Banter and flirtatious remarks were exchanged between them, and soon after, Bellena successfully got the man to pay for the next rounds, allowing him and his friends to join your table at the tavern.

You both exchanged another look - this time, a silent acknowledgement in maidenhood: if anything happened that wasn’t welcomed, you’d all be quick to collect the other 2 ladies sitting at the table, and quickly exit.

This was an acknowledged risk, and for Lyanne above all.

“For the lore,” a phrase you all repeated and clinked your first drinks to.

“Miss?” The bar tender called for you, snapping you back to the present, “the drinks.”

As the man waved for his friends to join you, and as you moved towards the drinks, a familiar face you had seen a moment ago reached out to them before you, “Oh!”

“Let me get these for you,” he offered with a lazy smile.

You eyed him suspiciously, but offered back a polite smile.

“Davos, mate! Ever the gentleman. Follow us,” Aron, you soon learned, called out ahead.

Bellena quickly introduced him and his company, and ensured at least one of you had someone to talk to and talk about - especially Lyanne, whom the girls wanted to see enjoy herself and meet someone new.

Times like today, you weren’t fully mentally prepared to meet new people or anyone outside of whom you thought about spending the evening with. Quickly downing your drink as you sit next to Lyanne, you hope it quickly loosens you up to conversation. But to your surprise, you found that Davos, from at the end of the table, had noticed this quick moment and looked at you with a mix of surprise and, ultimately, awe – nodding his head in approval. You looked away in embarrassment, not expecting the attention.

“What brings you pretty lot out here to Harroway anyway?” one of them asks.

The ladies took a moment to respond, sheepishly looking around at each other with embarrassed smiles, debating if an elaborate story should be told or flat out explain the story in which they’re here for their broken-hearted friend.

“Well...” it was a tricky position. They didn't want to reveal themselves, but the ladies didn't know where to begin.

One of them snickered. “Don’t tell us you’re all out having a naughty night out and running away from home,” Davos joked as he took a drink from his pint. “I’d be quite intrigued if that was the case.”

The cherry-haired girl chuckled at the irony and nodded towards you, “Oh, you’d be surprised. Have you met my dear friend over here? I think you’d be quite smitten with her.”

In this moment, you remembered thinking and wishing for the Earth to open up and swallow you whole, and created a mental note to strangle the girl in front of you as you cover your face with your hands.

“Oh? A runaway, I fear?” he teases.

“Absolutely not,” you shook your head, quickly thinking of ways to explain yourself. “I had only wished for some fresh air and found myself in this tavern before I knew it. I’m sure we’ve all been there before.” Not your finest.

“Oh! Oh, yes!” He teasingly agreed, nodding with a sarcastic smile. “I was out with these lads having a drink, and before I knew it, my feet had taken a mind of their own and found myself here. I’m glad I’ve found my people.”

“Precisely.”

He chuckles as he rolls his eyes and takes another sip from his pint.

-

The rest of the evening was followed by more laughter and banter from both ends, surprised at how well things were going and the ladies having fun and comfortable, the heartbroken girl had even rallied back together from her earlier state; and even though you weren’t contributing to much conversation, you were relaxed as long as everyone else was having a grand time. You looked down at your drink, almost gone, and while you weren’t inebriated, you figured it was time for some fresh air.

Absent-mindedly, you excused yourself from the table, and upon leaving to venture outside, you weren’t prepared to see Lyanne perched up outside against the tavern walls towards a quiet corner, in the middle of a passionate kiss with the man whom she had been speaking with.

Quickly hiding back behind the wall, hand on your chest and the other over your mouth, a peal of laughter creeps up as you try to hold against it, afraid of being caught or heard. You were wondering where she had gone after missing from the table for some time. Now you know where. You made a mental note to hold court with her and the other girls soon to debrief on the day’s events.

“There you are.”

You looked to the entrance of the alehouse and saw the man who had helped you with the drinks walk up. You offered him a greeting with a biting smile.

He seemed amused by your reaction. “I see we’re in need of some fresh air?”

You nodded as you bit your lip, holding back a giggle. “Well, that was the plan. But I see that we’re not the only ones who need fresh air.”

He looked at you curiously until he looked around the corner and saw the offending sight. He looked at you with shock, his mouth hanging in disbelief with his lips turned up, “Seven hells!”

You nodded to reaffirm you were equally as shocked. He looked over again, feigning the same shocked reaction, but this time he furrowed his eyebrows, face growing stern, “Wait, that’s not alright.” He touched your shoulder, as if to excuse himself as he made himself visible to the offending couple, “Ey! Get your vile tongue off her! And treat her like a lady - get a room!”

There was a “Piss off!” in the distance, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the entertaining interaction between Davos and his friend. He let out a chuckle as he ran his tongue over the side of his teeth, returning the response with an offending finger towards the distant man.

“The boldness of that lad, huh?” he returned his attention back to you.

You shrugged, “I hope this doesn’t make me a bad friend, but I’m glad she’s having fun.”

He raised his eyebrows as he scanned you down, “And you call that having fun?” You roll your eyes as you push yourself off the wall.

“Calm down. All I’m saying,” you emphasize, “is that I’m glad that she’s not sad anymore.”

“Hm. Care to elaborate?”

You looked at him curiously, looking at the way he was genuinely interested in conversation as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall towards you. Relaxed eyes looking down at you, dark irises gleaming despite the twilight sky. You thought about how sweet he looked – kind of handsome in a rugged and boyish way, his choppy bangs framing his face. It almost made you uneasy how interested he looked.

Clearing your throat and looking away, you entertained the conversation and started to walk around the alehouse – both attentive to not disturbing the lovebirds – and although you were careful not to reveal too much about yourself, it was nice to talk about your friend groups and your interests with someone who was interesting, of substance, and someone who understood your humor. This was a stark contrast to the suitors that your mother had wanted you to meet. Most conversations had fallen flat, or lacked sympathy, or intelligence for that matter.

Davos was careful to maintain a respectful distance, cautious to not make any unnecessary touches, which was something you appreciated. You began to take a liking to him because of that.

“What about you?” you asked as you both made your way to the distant trees that offered quietness - polar to the noisy tavern inside. “What do you like?”

He sheepishly smiled. A thought formed in his head about whether he should take a bold move or stay conservative. “Not a lot of things, truth be told.” He looked away. “But I know I like something when I feel it,” he finished, his head turning to you with a lopsided smile.

Taken aback, you hope the blush creeping up doesn’t betray you, and silently nod.

A beat of silence follows, and a look of realization falls on his face as he stands tall from leaning against the tree he had just made himself comfortable on. His face, now beet red, distorts with ideas to make conversation out of, “I hope that wasn’t too forward, I’m sorry, it’s just that you’re very pretty with a pretty laugh, and I think you’re a very nice girl and funny too, and I like you and…” strings of words came together to fill the silence, and you look at him in awe and curiosity at how fast he’s able to talk, wondering if he’ll ever catch a breath for talking fast.

As he continued, you made a forward move to place your hands on him in hopes of calming him, holding his face in one of your palms, “Davos… Davos!” you try. His face was warm, you didn’t realize how bony his cheekbones were as you brushed your thumb against his cheek.

Eventually, realizing your hands were on him, he slowed down. “Right, uhh, yes, sorry,” he breathed as he calmed.

“Thank you,” you chuckled. “I thought something had possessed you,” you laughed. A beat of silence. “But that was sweet.”

You forgot your hands were still on him caressing his cheeks until he placed his hands on top of yours, something you were unprepared for, but nonetheless welcomed.

Another beat of silence. “You have very soft hands,” he murmured as he closed his eyes and kissed the inside of your palm, then leaned into it. Oh.

When he opened his eyes, he studied you and smiled, “You are very pretty,” he said softly. Oh!

Something in you grew, your heart, or your chest, or something. It was almost consuming. Was it the way he had kissed your palm? Or the way he outright told you how pretty you look? Or the endearing way his thoughts dispersed and he babbled on? A bit of everything, you supposed. It was too forward, but it was nice, it was a nice feeling; foreign, and a bit uncomfortable from it being all new to you, but you welcomed it with a smile, curious to see how this unfolds.

You don’t remember exact details but you remember thinking about the scar above his lip, touching it lightly with your fingers, and the electrifying feeling of his lips meeting yours. The butterflies in your stomach swelled, making their way towards your chest, and your blood pumping with nervousness and excitement as you ventured into a foreign experience.

It felt good to be wanted, the way his hands snaked around your waist, and the way the kiss had started off soft, innocuous, and tender, and how it lent its way to become more profound, and almost sinful.

He was careful to not make any more offending moves, and that made you want him even more; one of your hands now having a mind of their own, snaking their way to comb his hair behind his head between your fingers. You clocked a small grunt leaving him as you tugged his hair a little, his arms pressing you closer to him, and a heat spreading through you, legs seconds from turning jelly and letting him mold you.

You needed to catch your breath – this was becoming too much, and you weren’t expecting any of what had just unfolded. Still interlocked in each other’s arms, a shy laugh left you both.

You shared a comfortable silence in each others arms after some time. And you, dare say thanked? the gods for giving you a lovely moment to live on.

“You know,” breaking the silence after a while as he held on to your waist, “that was quite a feat what you did back there with your drink.”

You quizzically looked at him as you toyed with the locks behind his ear, “hmm?”

“When you chugged your drink. Faster than the northern winds.”

“Oh, was that what first caught your attention?”

“Mmmm, that and your pretty face.”

You rolled your eyes, blushing. “You never told me what you didn’t like,” you murmured in an effort to change the conversation.

To that, the man bobbed his head side to side. “That may be a longer list,” he grimaced.

You heartily chuckle, “I may have the time for it.”

He smiled, “Well, for the basics, what I despise–”

“Oh, we’re starting out heavy.”

“Hah, mmm, well, maybe…” he grinned, and he indeed shared a long list of things, a lot of it personal things that are beyond surface-level that made him his own unique being; and more minor, funny things that he thought were inconveniences.

You really did admire him for being someone who isn’t afraid of vulnerability. It felt like a breath of fresh air. And the attentiveness!

You brushed your thumb over his cheek, with him leaning into it as he continued to list out the things he passionately disliked. He was a man of passion, you soon found out. To your surprise, you've come to found out you like this trait. And surely he's someone you'd be interested in if he were interested in pursuing you. You just needed to find an opening in this conversation with your parents once you learn of Davos' parentage.

And just as you thought about opening up about your family, he’s beaten you to it, and a part of you shatters.

“… ah! And Brackens.”

Huh? You turn to him, “I beg your pardon?”

A million thoughts ran through your head, maybe you misheard? Were we back to talking about our his likes? Enjoyments? Gods be good, are we family? A horror strikes your face. All thoughts race, all leading to the shared kiss.

You looked at him, warm relaxed eyes looking back at you – unaware, unassuming. A piece of you has broken, you think.

He shrugged, “Aye, Brackens. Cravens, the lot of them. I think they’re a bunch of good-for-nothing–”

Another shatter. “I’d be careful with your next words.” You dropped your arms away from him as you sternly held your ground, ready to bite back and defend your gold-and-red coated family. The worst has dawned on you, and disgust has overtaken. No, no, no, no!

Confused and a bit hurt, he studied you and nodded with a frown, finally piecing the puzzle together.

A pregnant silence takes over before he takes a deep breath. “I take it you’re Bracken?”

“Proudly.”

He continued nodding his head and rested his hands on his hips, “Then we’re definitely in a bit of a situation.”

You rolled your eyes, “there’s no situation.” Definitely not after the revelation. It couldn't be allowed. Wouldn't.

“Oh really? This moment we had–”

“We had no moment.”

“- kinda looked like a situation… Right. Well.”

You scoffed. “Davos, do me a favor, forget this ever happened.” It had to. If he was willing to say something about your family, what were the chances of him treating you any better? This was nothing but a flirtatious evening. It was going so well, until it wasn’t, especially when speaking in the matters of family. You couldn’t allow yourself to think beyond this moment, of the what ifs. You had to ensure he understood that and cut it off before anything more began. You looked him in the eye and stood your ground.

There was a darkness in his eyes now, surely hurt after being told to forget this moment with someone whom he wanted to explore a prospect with. He thought about the possibility of apologizing, asking for forgiveness, and although too soon, he'd thought about facing the challenges that involved asking for your hand from a family that wouldn’t welcome him in the first place.

But upon hearing your words, it snapped him out and brought him down to reality. Of course, there was no future, much less a moment of truce between the opposing Houses. This was a feud as old as time. So he did what he did best, and put up a wall around him that had forced him to spit insults, regretfully projecting his own hurt. “Forget? How could I forget the moment I discovered an almost civilized Bracken?”

Oh. This had turned around rather quickly. “Almost? Coming from a Blackwood, that’s a compliment.” Unexpected, but you saw this invitation to pass insults, and determined to not lose this battle, you wanted to hurt him if he was going to act this way.

“Don’t let it get to you. You might start thinking you’re actually interesting.”

I beg your pardon? “Interesting enough to catch your attention, apparently,” you spit, “Or is your recollection as poor as your judgment?”

He leaned in closer, towering over you. “My judgment might be questionable, but at least I don’t deceive people to have fun.”

Crossing your arms, you looked at him lamely with an arched eyebrow, “Oh that’s rich, I didn’t know Raventree Hall had a jester. Is that a Blackwood trait or just your own special talent?”

He stood mere inches away from your face and your stomach was back to making butterflies, but you refused to showcase anything other than annoyance, you were determined to have the last word.

Giving you a once-over, he chuckled, clearly over this, “It’s called charm, something I’m not afraid to use again,” he murmured.

A sound of disgust leaves your lips as you turn around and march back to the tavern, “Enjoy your delusions, Blackwood.”

Davos, back to leaning against the tree, smiled to no one in particular as he would enjoy his delusions. “And you, Bracken; enjoy your illusions.”

On your march back, you were too focused on holding back from vomiting and feeling your emotions, bottling them up and storing them far away. Just as you thought you found someone on your own, it had to be someone you couldn’t have and someone who was willing to insult your family.

You collected the rest of your friends, much to Bellena and Lyanne’s chagrin, and marched back home to your Aunt Jeyne’s place before it got too dark. It was then that you fully settled into your emotions, thought about the shared kiss, how sweet it was, and silently sobbed.

You ended the night with a broken heart.

[littlest-w01f]

Fire and Ice

Eris x Kallias' sister!OC (Khione)

ERIS MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: In a hunger for power between the two opposite sides of the seasonal courts, a marriage was arranged between the heir of Autumn and the princess of Winter.

Cw: None

part one - part two

There was cold in Autumn, wave after wave of frost entered as a carriage pulled by polar bears glided through the streets, inside of it was the High Lord's family, the High Lord of Winter, Lady Winter, the heir and the princess, all of them dressed immaculately for the ball they were on their way to attend.

The said ball was held in honour of Khione, their princess being arranged to wed Eris Vanserra, to tie the courts by marriage and combine their power.

It was the atmosphere of a grand celebration in the Autumn Palace, a word that the Princess would choose which son of Autumn to marry had already spread through the land, the place packed with many royals and nobles, a few excited about the union, while a few rightfully wary.

Eris sat beside his father at the dais, the second oldest sitting beside their mother, while the other brothers mingling with the nobility, Eris had his eyes locked with the entrance when he felt the rush of cold, knowing his to-be wife was getting nearer. His brothers weren't aware of the fact that Khione had already been promised to him, thinking they had a chance to woo her.

The ice carriage came to a stop in front of the giant doors, the bears came to a stop, spelled to be comfortable in the Autumn weather, and the Autumn attendant rushed to notify the high Lord of their presence. One after another, the Winter family got out to the Autumn gardens, a cold air about them, The High Lord nodded at the Autumn Court attendant who bowed to him, asking his family to follow him.

Khione and Kallias walked behind their parents silently, Kallias holding onto his sister, both their eyes watchful and cautious. Khione, gathered her gown, adjusting it as she walked, the ball gown she wore was a beautiful and elegant dress that was perfect for any occasion where she had to look over the top, especially a party where she would be engaged in the eyes of the public even if another party would follow a week later. It is made of high-quality fabric and features intricate beading and lace detailing, some detailed by frost and ice.

The dress has a fitted bodice and a full skirt that flows to the ground. The sweetheart neckline and tight corset gave her an illusion of enhancing her full curves, Khione didn't let the fact that the corset had been pulled too tight, to make her waist look small enough for an arm to be wrapped around it, bother her too much.

"Are you ready for this?" Kallias asked his sister softly, "I could still stage a run for you."

Khione laughed softly, "I don't mind... Eris might need to run from me if he tries anything without my permission though."

As they reached the head of the dias, a pleasant smile formed on her face as she saw the Autumn family seated, and her eyes went to Eris', she managed to hide a frown, they had had almost two full conversations with each other, and even if they understood the lack of choice either of them had, it didn't mean she had to be happy about being stuffed in a too-small dress and be sent away as a present.

Her mother bowed in greeting to the High Lord of Autumn while the Vanserras, save the High Lord, bowed to her father, Kallias following next as the attendant introduced them all one by one.

"Bow deep, Lady Khione," The attendant whispered to her, taking her by surprise, "The lords of Autumn appreciate a healthy cleavage." She almost scowled at him as his eyes dropped to the sweetheart neckline of her dress, staring at the top of her breasts, but she still maintained a composer her father would call "lady-like".

"And finally, the Princess of Winter, Lady Khione." Her title was called out and she dutifully walked in front of the diaz, she could feel everyone's eyes on her as she maintained her own with the High Lord Beron, they were all here to see her after all.

Her powers took hold of the attendant who had looked down her dresss, who had told her to bow deep, cold crept on him, taking hold of his vocal cords, she hid a smile as the attendant excused himself, gripping his throat, she could feel the grip she had on his throat, making it hard for him to speak for a while, hours, days, perhaps months. "My Lord," She bowed, dropping low, eyes going down, she could feel Beron's gaze on her, she didn't shudder under it as she felt eyes on her bust, then on the slim of her waist, her hips, as she got up, standing straight.

"My son," Beron spoke, not to her, he didn't address her at all, but to Eris, when he nodded Eris got up from his throne, not nearly the scale of Beron's.

Eris stepped down from the dias at his father's silent order, the people behind them to make way for them. "My lady, may I?" He asked with a short respectful bow, to follow the one she had given his family.

"You may." With her words, Khione set her hand in Eris' and the party began again as Eris led her to the middle of the floor.

In a dimly lit ballroom with elegant chandeliers hanging from its high ceiling, Eris and Khione glide effortlessly across the floor, each move graceful. The first dance of the party.

The room hums with lively music and laughter from other dancers, but their attention is solely on each other as they lock their eyes and sway rhythmically. Her silky silver dress contrasts beautifully against his crisp amber suit, with the contrast of them it was clear that every stitch has been chosen meticulously for this occasion for both of them. The atmosphere buzzes around them as people soon join in dancing around them.

Eris grinned at Khione, leaning in close so she could hear him over the music, hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer. "You look absolutely ravishing tonight," he murmurs playfully, tone teasing, twirling her around smoothly.

Khione rolls her eyes at his flattery, a smirk tugging at her lips. She places one hand on his shoulder for balance as they continue dancing. "Oh really?" She replies, brows raised.

"You think, flattery will get you everywhere, don't you?" She added as they turned again, Eris winked cheekily at Khione who chuckled softly under her breath.

"Oh I know it will." He whispered near her ear.

Khione lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly as they continue their dance. "Well, darling," she says lightly, looking up at him with a playful smirk. "At least our lives won't be dull now."

"Unfortunate for my brothers who think they have a change with you." Eris snorted softly, twirling her around, then pulling her close, bodies pressed together.

Khione rolled her eyes, "How nice of them to think my parents would give me that much of a choice."

Continuing their dance, Eris smirks at Khione’s remark. “So, how exactly do you plan on making this... Arrangement bearable?” He asks, spinning her around again.

“Let's start with the fact that you're not going to be treating me like your pet project,” Khione responds tartly. Their gazes meet once more, sparking with unspoken challenges and promises. "And I'll have to see how much of what my father said is true about you and your family."

Eris chuckles lightly at her words, raising an eyebrow as he leans down to whisper in her ear. “Is that so? Well then, I suppose we’ll just have to see how interesting you can be when you’re not trying so hard.” He looked her up and down.

"Hey!" Khione frowned at his words, "I didn't pick this tight ass dress... it's beautiful but I didn't chose it." She responded, looking down at the dress, the dress was too form-fitting for her.

Eris let out a soft laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "No need to look so indignant, my dear," he said playfully, spinning her around once more. "Your figure fills this dress perfectly you'd be lying if you told me you didn't enjoy wearing something so flattering."

Khione huffed, tightening her hand that held his in mock annoyance but couldn’t hide the slight smile playing on her lips. "Alright, alright," She conceded with a shake of her head. "Maybe it's not entirely unpleasant... Even if I feel like it might break my ribs."

Eris laughs at her comment, a deep rich sound that echoes through the ballroom. Twirling Khione and pulling her close, her back pressed against his chest, he whispers into her ear, "Just remember my love, you certainly fit it well enough to drive any male wild with desire."

With a laugh, Khione shakes her head lightly, her eyes sparkling with amusement as they dance past another couple. "We both know this isn't exactly how either of us would have planned this night," she sighed gently, her tone just loud enough for him to hear.

Eris grins slyly at her words, his hands guiding her smoothly through another turn. "Well then darling, shouldn't we make the most of it? And besides..." He leans in close to whisper in her ear, "who knows...you might find yourself enjoying the idea of being my wife."

Khione smirked, rolling her eyes at his confidence. "That remains to be seen." She retorts, poking him playfully in the chest with her finger.

As the last notes of the song faded away, Eris reluctantly released Khione from his embrace. A brief flash of disappointment crossed both their faces before Khione masked it with a look of annoyance and Eris with a charming grin, offering his hand to assist her off the dance floor.

"I hope you enjoyed that dance," he said gallantly as she took hold of his hand. His eyes flickered towards his younger brother who had been given permission to claim Khione next after him. There was no mistaking the competitive gleam in Eris’ eyes as he watched him approach.

A mischievous smirk spread across Eris' face as he leaned closer to Khione, whispering into her ear while still holding onto her hand tightly. "Don't go falling too easily for my brothers' charms now... You're promised to me, my pretty wife."

"Oh, this is going to be a long party..." Khione groaned softly, bowing for the second eldest who approached to lead the next dance.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar klytemnestra13 @secret-third-thing}

[ramielll]

I was waiting for you -Part 4

Benjicot Blackwood x fem reader

Contains: angst, fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, make out sessions, stupid men

Word count: 3411

Tw: canon typical discrimination against women, making out

≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫≪ °❈° ≫

After that night, there was a silent agreement made between the two, to meet outside the castle walls, as soon as the rest of it’s inhabitants retired for the night.

They walked and talked about their shared time spent here, about their life back at their own home, the hobbies they had and the books they read. Each time bringing them closer to one another, while the thrill of it being a secret made it all the more exciting.

“So, I was out in the courtyard, early in the morrow, as my brother made his way back. He was still drunk and when he tried to dismount his leg got stuck, I assume, and he fell face first into the mud.” They both laughed loudly while seated on the ground beside the water. “I couldn’t breathe for minutes, it was so funny.”

“That is the reason behind him looking so careful every time he gets off his horse?” Benjicot snorted “I never knew why.”

“Have you ever got so drunk that you did something similar?” He was already looking at her as she asked. The moonlight illuminated his face in a perfect way, making her smile broaden.

“Plenty of times! I did not yet have fallen from my horse, but I have managed to embarrass myself in other ways for sure.”  His grin widened as he spoke.

“It’s a shame I missed it then. Something to tease you with would come handy, I’m sure.” She bumped his shoulder lightly with hers.

“I don’t see why you would need that, I manage to act foolishly plenty enough when I’m in your presence my Lady.” The air suddenly shifted between them as he snuck a glance at her lips and managed to lean a bit closer without either of them noticing.

“Really? How so?” Her voice quiet now, as fearing that if she spoke louder, the moment would break. She took a deeper breath as she looked into eyes, looking entirely black in the dim lighting.

“Like right at this moment, as I’m wondering, what would it take for you, to let me kiss you.” His nose brushed against hers. She could feel his breath on her tongue as she wetted her lips, which was not missed by him. Benjicot could feel his pulse rise. Her scent was maddening the more he inhaled it. He needed to know what she tasted like. It was what plagued his dreams since the moment he saw her in the courtyard, seated on the balcony. It took everything in him not to press forward before he got her permission. “Let me kiss you.” It did not even sound like a question. There was only a hairs breath between them. “Yes.” That was all he needed. Benjicot slid his hand onto her cheek and leaned in. He could feel the small gasp she let out as their lips connected. He found it to be the sweetest thing and he knew needed more of it.

Y/N let go of her dress, which she was gripping until this moment at the feeling of Benji’s lips pressing greedily against hers. She hesitantly buried her right hand into the hair of the back of his neck, which earned her a groan. His tongue brushed against her lower lip and she let him in.

Benji’s other hand hugged her waist and pressed her form closer to his. She hummed with delight as she felt his heart beating quickly against her chest. This was quickly becoming addicting as she realised, she never wanted him to pull away. She clasped both her hands behind his neck and lightly pulled on his hair without realising. The man in her arms moaned softly and whispered her name against her lips. She felt his hand tighten on her waist before slowly pulling away, though not too far as they continued to breath against the other’s lips heavily. “We should-“ He took a gulp of air as he steadied his voice “We should go back.” He said slowly with much reluctance in him.  Y/N pressed her forehead against his and laughed breathily. Her head was spinning, and her clothes stuck to her skin despite the chill in the air. “Yes, we should, though I won’t lie, I would much rather stay here.” She said quietly and before she could manage to stand up on her shaky legs, Benjicot sprung up and extended his hand to pull her up too. Rather than letting go of the girl’s hand, he pulled her against him. “Believe me when I say, me too.” That last part was only a whisper against her lips as he kissed her again, much slower this time. He sighed deeply as he willed himself to pull away again. It was becoming harder with each second passing, he felt like he was losing his mind, being able to finally hold the woman of his dreams in his arm felt better than anything.

They walked back to castle with their hands clasped tightly together, till they reached her door, and it was time to say goodbye.

“The lads plan to train again in the yard tomorrow. Will you come watch us?” His smile was expecting, and she have found it way too adorable. “Of course I will.”

“Good.” Benjicot leaned in again and brushed his lips ever so softly over hers. “Sweet dreams Lady Stark.”

Y/N spent hours staring at the canopy of her bed before she managed to calm her heart and finally fall asleep.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

The sun shined brightly the next morning as she made her way towards her pillowed seat on the small balcony overlooking the courtyard. Oscar was getting ready to go against Edmure Frey when they noticed Y/N’s presence. “Good morrow cousin!” He waved, bringing the men’s attention to her also. “Good morrow and best of luck!” Her eyes never left Benjicot as he grinned at her with red cheeks.

“Lady Y/N!” Edmure stepped forward. “Might I ask for your favour?”

“You do realise this is not a tourney Frey?” Laughed Kermit before sharing a knowing look with Y/N’s brother. “None the less, I feel it would give me the strength to best all three of you lads.” He took another step, clearly waiting. Y/N stood and reached into her dress for her handkerchief, her reluctance was once again missed by the men.

“Best of luck my Lord.” The fabric dropped gently into the man’s hand, and she sent him a polite smile. “Thank you, my Lady.”

The fighting began and Edmure quickly emerged as victorious before going against Y/N’ brother too. Their match was a bit more tight, but surely enough Edmure won again. The young man shook hands and walked to the side to make space for Benji and Kermit. As they now stood closer to the balcony Y/N was able to hear their conversation even through the clinging of swords. “Good match Lord Frey, you must teach me that move you used around the end later.”

“My Lord, may we speak somewhere else? Surely you know what matters I wish to address.” Edmure’s voice grew quiet and the two of them started to walk inside. “Of course.”

Alarm bells rung in Y/N’s head as it wasn’t hard to figure out what “matters” did Edmure referred to. Her stomach squeezed tightly, and she did not waste another moment to stand and follow the of them.

The doors to the hall were when she arrived, and she quickly pressed her ears to the wood to try and catch some of the discussion. Y/N tried to quiet her breathing to hear better, but it was in vain. Other than the muffled sound of their voices, she could not pinpoint a single. Minutes went by before she could hear them approach the doors, so she ran as quietly as she could to the closest turn in the hallways and hid behind the wall. Only when she heard Edmure leaving did she step out of her hiding spot.

“Sister! I was about to look for you!” He seemed much too pleased for her liking. She gripped the sides of her dress. “What did you two talk about?”

“Your hand. Edmure Frey asked for it. As I’m sure you have figured already, You two seem familiar with each other.”

“We are not.” She was growing angry. This was happening way too quickly.

“He is a good man sister. He likes you, you managed to scare away your suitors before, but that only narrowed your choices. I gave him permission to ask you to marry him.”

Her eyes widened, her breathing quickened. “What about involving me in the decision? What we have talked about?” She tried to rein in her voice, not to cause a scene as a few servants walked by them.

“Your opinion was considered. I saw how you two interacted, you seemed to like him as well.” His tone started to grow agitated as well, this was not the reaction he expected.

“I was being polite towards him, as I was taught! That does not mean I want to marry him!”

“Regardless, you have no other suitors, he is the best option. If someone else would ask for your hand, you’d be free to reject Lord Edmure. We dragged this out long enough sister, I will write to father tonight.” He left without another word as he saw the angry tears in his sisters’ eyes. Y/N tried to take a deep breath to calm herself. She couldn’t allow to break down crying like a child. She needed to talk to Benji, she realised. He was the only one who could end this whole ordeal now, if his intentions were truly serious.

Y/N made her way back to the courtyard, eager to find the man she loved, but when she stepped out under the sun, she only found her cousins there.

“Is everything alright Y/N?” Oscar immediately noticed the distress etched into the girl’s features.

“Where’s Benji?” She is not going to get into details with them now, she needed to do this fast. “He said he was going out for a ride. He lost his match, probably couldn’t take the defeat.” Kermit laughed as Oscar shoved him, he was always much more capable to read the room. “When is he coming back?” Panick started to rise in her heart again. Why did he have to leave now?

“Wouldn’t know.” The boys went back to their play fighting, leaving the girl to her misery.

Y/N spent the next hours pacing around her room and looking out her window every few minutes. Everyone’s timing was horrible. Things could not have could gone more wrong as the sky started to darken and there was still no sign of Benji. Y/N started to imagine her future at the Twins. Dreadful place, in her opinion. A future she would much like to avoid. If only that stupid man would gallop through the gates already to step up and ask for her hand. A future with him was what she always thought about in secret, only too afraid before, to allow herself to really envision it. What if he did not want to marry her? They were friends, yes, but he did not talk with her brother, he did not ask for her hand and they only truly talked in secret. The idea that he was only playing with her, turned her stomach as her eyes welled with tears. Maybe he already got his fill of her and now the game was over. She met men before that treated impressionable young ladies this way, often times taking it even further. Has she been stupid enough to fall for the same tricks? Her tears now dripped down her face as she still gazed out the window into the darkness. She didn’t even hear the knock on her door.

“My Lady, I came to escort you to supper.”

She could hear the smile in Edmure Frey’s voice as she dried her eyes and turned from the window. “Thank you, my Lord.” If her voice was as lifeless as she felt herself to be, she did not care. But, there was a chance, that maybe he was down there already, it was only a flicker of hope. Maybe Benji came back and he’ll already be sitting at the table, in that case, she at least could look at him, to look into his eyes and try to decipher his intentions. But dinner slowly passed as everyone ate and drank and there was still no sight of him.

Thankfully no one cared to bother her. Lord Edmure sat beside her brother tonight, instead of her, talking animatedly about topics she tried and failed to ignore. Y/N gave much effort to convince herself that the situation was not that dire as it looked at the moment. It could be much worse, she knew that. Her mother never failed to tell her how prone she is to dramatics. Many young, noble ladies had to deal with old, cruel husbands. Her mother would tell her now to stop whining and start appreciating what she got. It was well past time she learned to make the best of what she was given.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

She slipped away quietly after supper, needing to sort herself out and to clear her head. Preferably, without company. She waited in her room for the castle to fall silent, so she can make her way outside, alone for the first time since she arrived at Riverrun.

The night air seemed even more nippy against her skin as she only wore her nightgown and slippers. Y/N pushed against the small gate separating her from the thin path beside the river outside the castle walls.

She didn’t even close the gate behind her, when she heard her name. Y/N froze and begun to slowly turn around. Benjicot stood there in the dark, clearly waiting. “What are you doing here? Where were you?” Surprise turned to relief, turned to anger so fast inside her as she looked at the man. “I was waiting for you.” He said that as if it was the most obvious thing. “As I did every night the past couple of weeks.” He now grew less certain as he looked at the girl’s angry face.

“Why?”

“To spend time with you. Is there something wrong?” He took a hesitant step closer to her.

“Why do you spend time with me? I need to know what your intentions are.” She did not move, fists clenched at her sides. Benji stilled as well, hearing her tone.

“I- well” He felt his stomach clench, the mood was entirely different from what he expected, this was not how he wanted to do this.

“You said that you wish to vie for my hand. Did you mean that?” She walked up to him, breath heaving in anger, she needed to look into his eyes. “You did not talk to my brother. You did not openly start to court me.” Her voice began to rise in volume as she watched his face fall, and his cheeks redden. “Aside from these secret meetings, there were no actual signs of your affections!”

“No signs? Where is this coming from?”

“Edmure Frey asked for my hand. And you did not. My brother is inclined to accept his offer.” Tears started to sting her eyes, frustration welled inside her at the obtuse expression on his face, before it morphed into something more serious. He took another step towards her and took a deep breath as he reached to hold both of her soft hands in his. Y/N had half a mind to yank them from his grasp.

“I’m sorry that I left today without a word to you. Kermit told me why Edmure asked your brother to talk. I needed to clear my head and to gather up my courage.” He looked down at his shoes, his expression was of a scolded child now.

 “Your courage?”

“I did talk with your brother, not long before I came out here to wait for you.” Now she looked confused, was this going where she thought it was going? She opened her mouth to speak, but he was quicker.

“I asked him for your hand.” He looked into her eyes now, his shining with determination now in the soft glow of the moon. “You did?” She felt dizzy.

“My intentions towards you were clear to me since the beginning. I’m truly sorry I showed them poorly.” He took one final breath to steady himself. “I want you to be my wife. I have wanted that since I was a child.” Her hands slid up to his upper arms. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Why did you wait this long?” She leaned closer to him. “I was afraid.” Her scent invaded his senses more and more as she now stood pressed against him. “Of your rejection.” He whispered.

“You fool.” Her hands went up to his neck now. “Will you accept this fool as your husband my Lady? Please say yes, I really wouldn’t know what to do if-“

“Yes” It was only a murmur as she pressed her lips against his. All the heightened emotions now mixed with her hunger for him made it impossible for her to pull away, even for a breath. His hands now clutched onto her waist, and she only know realised, how thin her nightgown felt under his rough palms. She could feel so much more of his warm touch this way. He let out a groan as he noticed this as well. “Cant believe you almost let me be married to Edmure Frey.” She murmured into his open mouth. “I would never have let that happen.” He growled as she let his tongue into her mouth. His hands slid from her waist to her back, to her neck and her face, to every place she let him. He needed her as if she was the very air he breathed. She moaned as he caressed her body all over and grabbed his right hand to guide it to her chest. The whine he let out sounded almost painful as he gently squeezed her right breast. Her head was spinning and her legs felt shaky as his tongue swirled in her mouth, tasting her. His hand squeezed again, becoming more needy.  She moaned again at the feeling, arching her back in the process, but pulled away the next moment. They both heaved as they made eye contact.

“We can’t, not yet.” His eyes seemed to betray his words as they watched her plump lips and the rise and fall of her chest. The pictures of her splayed out without any garments covering her form in his bed, did too. Taking a step back from her seemed like the hardest thing he has ever done. Everything in him wanted more of her as he felt his breeches tighten and his resolve crumble with every hungry touch.

“I know.” Y/N let out a breathy laugh at his painful expression, as if saying it only, caused him torment. She knew only a little about what conspired between man and woman, but she knew it was harder for the men to resist. She appreciated that he wanted to do this right.

“What did my brother say to you?” He tucked a strand of her frazzled hair behind her ear. “He said that the choice is yours, so I should ask you.” Y/N smiled at that. Her brother wasn’t a complete idiot then. “We have an engagement to announce it seems.”

“We do. Will you come home with me to Raventhree Hall then?” He looked so hopeful, it was adorable. And the idea made her happier than she would have thought. This wasn’t about leaving her own home, it was about starting their life together. As Lord and Lady Blackwood. Giddiness rose in her chest at concept.

Benjicot walked her back to her chambers and with one last kiss, they said their goodbyes. Everything looked different now as she flopped down onto her bed.  She will have to send a raven home, not just to tell her parents, but so they can send her belongings too. Her handmaiden did not travel with her to Riverrun as she has fallen ill, not long before they have left. The next time she will see her will be at Raventhree Hall it seemed.

[wukong-s-only-wife5000]

could u pls do a first time meeting with Monkey King Reborn pls? I love ur work 💜💜

Monkey King Reborn: First Meeting.

Content/Trigger Warnings: N/A.

Authors Notes: It's shit like this that'll make me cry. Thank you so much, and thanks for the request! Decided to make this a chubbyfemale!reader Reborn Wukong. Hope you don't mind.

Master List | Next--->

The council couldn't have chosen anyone else? Why'd you have to get dragged in with the monk to get whatever it was he was sent for? No, no, better question, COULDN'T THEY HAVE TOLD YOU THAT BEFORE HE LEFT?! Now you were on a journey alone to try to catch up with the monk that had four days ahead of you, so that was proving… tiresome. 

“How far can a monk get in just four days?” you grumbled to yourself as you tucked some of your (h/c) hair behind your ear to get it out of your face.

You'd spent two days trying to catch up to the monk, but it was proving to be a tedious task. Of course, you weren't going to give up, the higher-ups would tear you a new one if you gave up on the mission they ‘blessed’ you with. So, you marched on, asked around and tried to keep your head up.

You tried to think of the bright sides… Well, the only one you could really think of was finally getting out of that temple and away from those people. The fresh air was nice, but the endless walking wasn't what you were expecting when you were told you had a mission.

“Wait, is that them?” you thought to yourself aloud when you saw a group up ahead. You didn't know who the monk was supposed to be accompanied by, but you’d recognize him anywhere. 

Finally! You thought to yourself as you willed your body into a jog, holding your chest as you did so it didn't bounce too much.

“Wait!” you tried to get their attention, which worked faster than you thought it would. When you finally caught up to them, you were breathing heavily and barely able to catch your breath. You were met with a stick in your face.

“Who are you?” who you recognized as the Monkey King questioned in a growl.

“Lady (Y/n)?” the monk surprisingly recognized you, making the monkey stand down. Once they’d settled, you introduced yourself to the four demons the monk had travelling with him.

Why does he need me if he has the four of them? You thought to yourself in annoyance. 

“(Y/n) (L/n), I was sent to accompany you on your journey to the West to collect the Buddhist scriptures,”

“Forget it,” Wukong said almost immediately.

“Excuse me?” you looked at the demon who spoke as he eyed you as well with a raised brow. 

“I said no,” he said. 

“I wasn't asking your permission,” you stated.

“Wukong,” the monk chastised. “Forgive him, lady (Y/n),” the monk bowed in respect. 

“It’s just (Y/n),” you told him. “I was sent to join you in your journey to the West, and that is what I plan to do,”

“Forget it,” ‘Wukong’ repeated sternly.

“Wukong,” 

“I wasn't asking your permission,” you repeated as well.

“You can go back to whatever temple you came from. We already have two weights, we don't need another,”

“Did you just call me fat to my face?” you raised a brow. His eyes widened slightly, and he snarled in your face, his breath smelling of fruit.  

“You know that's not what I meant!” he snapped.

“Hm,” you folded your arms and closed your eyes as you let out a heavy and defeated sigh. This could only be handled one way. “Since I'm such a heavy burden for you to bear, I’ll go,” you said simply and turned on your heel before starting to walk off.

“Wukong,” Tang said in a warning tone.

“Master, we don't need anyone else travelling with us,” he tried to persuade his master against letting you join.

“She has already come all this way on direct orders. She will be joining us, go apologize to her at once,” Tang ordered, making him groan, but follow behind you. 

“Hey, sh- girl,” he called as he walked beside you.

“Come to call me short as well?” you glanced at him. He glared at you, mostly because he was going to call you shorty instead of girl. “You wanted something?” you raised a brow as you eyed the… fairly attractive specimen before you.

“I'm…” he physically struggled to speak. 

“You're…?” you encouraged him to continue, wanting to hear him say it. 

“Sorry…” he said, very strained and soft.

“Pardon?” you tilted your head a bit. It's not that you didn't hear him, you heard him loud and clear… you just wanted to make him suffer for indirectly calling you short and fat. You didn't deserve to be called out like that by someone like him.

“I said I'm sorry, alright?!” he snapped, which surprised you.

“Kay,” you rubbed your chin and bottom lip to feel you were smirking. “I was taught that any man willing to put aside his pride to apologize deserves forgiveness, so your apology is accepted,”

“Now that we’re past that, let’s go,”

“Oh?” that smirk still playing on your lips that irked him.

“Your masters told you to join us, didn't they? Let's.go.” he seethed, much to your amusement.

I like this one… you thought to yourself in amusement.

“Right,” you nodded and simply followed behind him. “What was your name again?” you questioned from behind him, trying to remember what the monk had called him.

“Sun Wukong,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Right, right. The so-called Monkey and Demon King, the ‘Great Sage Equal to Heaven’. Your mess with the Jade Emperor was a cleaning job for lesser deities like me, so thanks for that.”

“Any time,” it was his turn to smirk at you, which of course irked you.

“What possessed you to do such a thing anyway?” you questioned as you walked beside him, but the only response you got was a huff.

“There they are,” you looked ahead to see the other three approaching. 

“Please forgive my-”

“It’s alright,” you cut him off as you traced your bottom lip slightly. “We have a long journey, let’s get moving.”

“Yes, of course,” the monk agreed with an amused smile.

The other three demons had introduced themselves to you. The pig, Zhu Bajie or ‘Pigsy’, was ‘trying his hand’ with you, much to your disgust. Luckily, Wukong pulled him away from you by his ear and said that you weren't interested, which you definitely weren't, but you thought speaking your mind might be a bit hurtful.

All in all… this trip was already shaping up to be a trip to remember. For better or worse? Well, that was still a work in progress.

[theworldofotps]

The Lord's Lady (Part One)

Pairing: Lord Debling x Reader Word Count: 950 Description: The first time you laid eyes on Lord Debling

Massive thank you to @madhatterbri who came up with the basic idea for this story and some of the dialog I appreciate you more than I can say! ___________ You were always a dutiful daughter, doing everything asked of you by your parents. Even deciding to care for them in their older age rather than looking for a husband after your first year on the marriage mart. Everyone in the ton remarked on how thoughtful you were, while others whispered how foolish it was to chose to be a spinster. You parents had maids and such to care for them, but you were insistent that it be you. As an only child they gave you everything your heart desired if they possibly could.

It wasn’t often you attended balls without your parents, but the most recent one was being held by Lady Danbury. Your best friend Lucille invited you along with your cousin to attend with her family when your parents decided to stay in for the night. You were given permission so long as the two of you stayed close near Lucille’s parents, which you readily agreed.

As always, the ball was a stunning event, everything was picture perfect right down to the littlest detail. All of ladies in gorgeous gowns while the gentlemen were dressed in their best attire. Staying close to Lucille and your cousin, the three of you chatted in hushed tones watching the dancing.

Letting your eyes drift around the room you spotted a man standing over by a large statue observing it. He was completely oblivious to the many a female gaze upon him as he enjoyed his drink and the art picture he was looking at.

“You should go and speak with Lord Debling”

“What?”

Looking at your best friend who gave you a slight nudge from behind a smile on her face. Your cousin had stepped away for a moment to freshen up, so it was just the two of you.

“I couldn’t possibly go speak with him Lucy I was just admiring his outfit the colors are so rich.”

“Y/n, I know of you better than any other and I know you were not merely looking at the Lord’s attire. He’s into nature, the likes of which I know you enjoy some besides how often are you out and not caring for your parents? It will hurt not a thing if you were to go and speak with him.”

“I’m uncertain.”

“Then accompany me over to speak with him.”

Your arms linked as the two of you aimlessly wandered the ball soon making your way to where Lord Debling stood admiring a painting. “Good evening, Lord Debling.”

Lucille said in a soft two your breath catching when you got a full view of his face, a polite incline of his head.

“Good evening, Miss Lovett, and forgive me miss for I know not your name.”

“Good evening my Lord I’m Y/L/N.”

Bowing your head in greeting the three of you became engaged in a conversation regarding the painting.

“Forgive me for interrupting you my lord but my mama is searching for me I shall return in just a moment.”

Turning towards your friend, she insisted you stay and that she would be right back so hesitantly you agreed.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before.”

“You would be right my lord I usually only attend with my mama and papa, but they stayed in tonight. I’m here with the Lovett family and my cousin, it’s not my usual scene to be honest with you.”

A soft heat rising to your cheeks when you realized how quickly you were speaking.

“My apologizes I know not why my mouth ran away from me.”

“That’s alright I find it refreshing to hear one’s thoughts unhinged and honest.”

The soft smile he gave caused an eruption of butterflies to fill your stomach as he asked you about your family. Lucille stood afar watching with delight as she observed yourself and Lord Debling chatting, when your cousin returned, she frowned.

“Where’s y/n?”

“I left her with an eligible bachelor someone who will hopefully see her for the wonderful person she is.”

“Oh really who may that be?”

“Lord Debling.”

“Do not jest me Lucille.”

“I do not jest he’s a good man who could provide y/n with the future she deserves, I’ve heard round the ton of his kindness and wealth. She’d be set for all the rest of her days should she and Lord Debling ever become an item.”

“Her parents have expressed we stay away from him ever since they ran into him while in the park, her mama and papa will not be pleased. This could very well be her last event this season should they get word of this.”

Lucille turned her attention to your cousin, her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched her.

“Do you not wish for y/n to be happy? Provided for? This is her third year on the marriage mart and she has chosen to care for her parents instead of look for a husband. If they won’t help her then I will, she’s my dear friend and I care for her happiness. I think that could be provided to her through Lord Debling if anything he is a good man, he may travel but she’ll have her peace and freedom to continue carrying for her parents. But with a place to escape when all becomes too much for her.”

Looking away from Lucille’s eyes your cousin watched you laughing with Lord Debling, the two of you both with matching smiles.

“Alright I’ll refrain from saying anything but know this should her parents find out; I will not be responsible for any trouble that comes her way. I love her I want her happy if you think this can happen than I will be supportive.”

[happyk44]

Thinking about Frank telling Percy that after the war he had to ask Pluto's permission to date Hazel. The war gave him some leeway and reason for not doing so, but after it ended, Pluto showed up after a few days and asked Frank why he had not requested permission.

Percy is kinda surprised Hazel doesn't look annoyed. Sure she's from the 40's but he thought permission to marry was the common request. Wasn't permission to date outdated, even by 40's standards?

And Hazel shakes her head and explains that historically a lot of children of Pluto/Hades would be courted by other demigods as a trick or a trap. If a child of the Underworld asked her out, permission would be implicitly granted. If a mortal asked her out, permission would be implicitly granted.

But a non-Chthonic demigod, especially an Olympian one and one of such high rank like Mars, requires permission so Pluto or one of her siblings, or even Proserpina, may assess that this person is someone safe. Even friends can betray you in the end, she notes and Percy hates every single word of what she's said.

Years later when he comes to terms with his feelings for Nico, he agonizes about it. He knows Nico likely won't give a shit if he doesn't have permission, and Hades won't do anything to Percy besides maybe yell at him if he refuses to ask because killing him would upset Nico, but if he's going to date Nico he'd like to be on somewhat good terms with Hades for once. Neutral terms, even.

Frank may have lucked out with near immediate acceptance - why, wouldn't he? Hazel was his world. He would rather die than hurt her - but Percy was a thorn in Hades' side from the moment they met, and he was well aware getting permission would be a long process to go through. Probably some more stupid quests to prove himself.

And he'd do them. He hate it but Nico was worth it.

But part of the reason of living at the Nome these days was to stop having to do quests. To stop have gods interfering in his life to the point of standing on the ledge of the apartment roof and staring down at black asphalt and garbage bags shoved into a corner.

But Nico is worth it. And Percy - well, he'd like to think he's safe for him now. That he won't hurt him accidentally anymore. That they're good. And he's pretty sure Nico likes him back. When he visits, he always gravitates towards him. Sits by him when he's finished training with Walt. Takes him outside with Carter or Zia so he doesn't develop agoraphobia, and holds his hand the whole time so he "can't run away". He strokes the back of Percy's hand every time they're standing still.

He blushed when that one lady thought they were a couple. Didn't correct her either. Didn't ask why Percy didn't correct her. Didn't let go of his hand.

He hasn't interacted with a Greek god in the last four years. At least not in person. His dad and step-mom send letters every few months through Hermes, who hands them off to Nico to deliver. They're nice letters. Hoping he's doing well. Updating him on how the castle repairs are doing. Telling him about quiet spots in the ocean he can visit at a certain time if wherever he is doesn't have access. He's used a couple of them, with Sadie lazing about on a shitty rowboat far above his head.

It's nice to just lay there on the sand. The first time he'd been worried it was a trap. That some sea god would whisk him away for some adventure that would leave him more torn than he already was. But Phillip had sat with him, wand at the ready, his penguins casually swimming above them and it had been fine. No sea gods, no sea monsters, no animals other than the penguins.

So Hades will be the first Greek god he sees in person. It reminds him too much of his first quest. While Ares has been the first, Hades had been the second and Percy had stood in front of him, feeling too small, everything at risk, and someone he loved dearly on the line. If he failed then, he might never get her back.

If he failed now, Hades might enforce ways to keep them apart. To make sure Percy couldn't ignore his lack of permission and date Nico anyway.

What terrified him the most about not earning permission was the implication he was still dangerous to other people, to Nico. He was sure he was safe now. He didn't freak out at the little kids. He didn't wake up screaming. His gut instinct wasn't to pull Riptide out at every single loud noise. He didn't dissociate as much as he used to. He wasn't on edge all the time. He trusted the other people around him.

He didn't want to die nearly as much as he used to.

But what if it meant nothing? Therapy, medication, avoiding the things that caused him stress - what if it wasn't enough? Yeah, he has attacked Nico once but that was years ago, Percy had been extremely stressed out, and Nico hadn't even cared about it when he apologized. It took him a few seconds to even remember what Percy was talking about.

Aside from that one instance, Percy liked to think he'd always been safe for Nico. But then he remembered Bianca and his gut churned viciously.

Still, Nico was worth it. Nico was something he wanted. He'd do it for him. He'd do a lot of things for him.

Grover stood with him at the entrance of the Underworld. Mrs. O'Leary was splayed out, catching the rays of sunlight and rumbling happily as Annabeth gave her a couple treats and belly rubs. She joined Percy's other side and pinched his arm.

He still loved her. He always would. Their relationship to each other wasn't something that could be killed off, even with the distance and Percy running away. Same with Grover. Either one of them could vanish for years at a time, and when they came back, it would be like no time passed at all. They were clicked into one another like a necklace with interlocking friendship charms.

"You got this," Grover said with a clap to Percy's back. His hand drew up to Percy's shoulder and squeeze. "And we'll be right there with you."

"Or just outside the door," Annabeth adds. She flashes her wrist, a shiny watch on it. "And I have a battering ram if needed."

Grover's face went pinched. "That's not helpful."

"It's realistic!" Annabeth argued. "When has he ever come out here peacefully?"

"He's only been here twice!" Grover said in a gritted whispered shout. "You need at least three times to indicate a pattern."

The two of them stepped back ever so slightly so they weren't shouting through Percy, and continued their bickering on what constituted a pattern indication and whether or not it was helpful or supportive to indicate a fight might break out.

The noise helped clear the sound of his own voice in his head. He zeroed in on Grover's words clashing against Annabeth's opposing side, and breathed steadily. The two of them knew him so well. Hopeful realism.

"Guys," he said as clear as he could.

They went silent immediately and drew back to his side. Grover looped his arm around Percy's, pulling him close in by the elbow. Annabeth squeezed his hand once before letting go.

"You ready?" she said.

He nodded and reached for the doorknob. "Let's do this."