#when the frost is in bloom part 2 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saradika · 1 year

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— BLEED FOR ME | part iv

[masterlist]

mand’alor!vampire!din djarin x f!reader

rated e - 4k

haunted hoedown: vampire!au + “i would burn the world for you.” + vampire has a taste for specific blood + revenge + (one-sided) enemies to lovers (+2 secrets!)

tags: vampire!au, drinking blood, reader has scar on shoulder, shared memories, light angst, din is dracula (castlevania)-coded, realizations and confessions, flash-backs/multiple pov, canon-typical violence and death, revenge

a/n: a massive and heartfelt thank you to @friskynotebook and @againstacecilia who beta’d this chapter and helped me out - you are the best! 🥺💕

It's all white noise. Her voice fading out to nothing, as the word repeats in your mind.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

You think you mumble an excuse. Her hand outstretched, expression worried as you turn - dazed. A tightness in your chest, leaving her sitting as the panic rises, as you all but flee the room.

It's muscle memory that gets you to your room. Your back pressing against the heavy wooden door, as if that alone could keep you safe.

You couldn't be his mate. His soulmate.

There wasn't a mark. The skin on your wrist is bare - that spot of first contact. Where he had touched the night you had arrived, before pulling you to his mouth.

You'd have noticed if his palm bore marks when it had curled around, for they would be reflected on yours, too.

This much you know, at least.

Soulmates were an ancient magic that even the humans knew. Growing more rare, as the years passed. As wars raged and couples were split before they were ever joined.

Your grandparents were soulmates. A chance meeting at a market. Fingers clasped in greeting - the shock when they came back different. Changed, forever.

You used to pull their hands into your laps - to trace the matching, mirrored marks on their skin, when you were a child. Filled with silent thoughts about how lucky they were, to have found each other.

They had been happy.

But how could you be, after everything?

Fennec must be wrong. Perhaps vampire mates were different.

Perhaps it was just the name of your partnership. Perhaps the time that had passed had made you mates of some kind, enough of your blood shared to forge some sort of lasting connection.

You cling to this denial like it's some form of salvation. Of protection.

Time passes, and your breathing slows. You lean into these thoughts. How would Fennec know, if even you didn't? Yes, it had to be no more than a misunderstanding.

If he was really your mate, there'd be a sign. He never would have wanted to hurt you.

But deep, deep down - you know that there's something.

A reason you hadn't felt that urge to flee, when you first saw him. How your hand has stayed, when you could have finished things. Why you can't keep him out of your thoughts and mind.

Why you've softened. It had felt so natural, like winter changing into spring. Something tender blooming in your chest, in spite of the frost.

It frightens you.

There's not much time to contemplate further, before you hear the sounds of boots on stairs. The gait one you've come to know - something sharp and acidic spiking in your chest as you push yourself up.

Rushing across the room to wrench the drawer open - the scrolls scattering across the floor as you rip the hidden dagger and stake free. Holding them defensively against your chest, just as the door opens.

He's there.

It's as if he only just arrived - boots still splattered with mud. His armor streaked with weathered grime and a weariness in the way his forearm braces against the doorframe.

"Cyar'ika." Din rasps, "I'm sorry, I didn't want-"

The words peter off. He seems unsurprised to see you armed, as if his only thoughts are of you. Not what you hold, what you've been hiding.

A long second as he considers something - before his hands are lifting to his helmet. Palms pressing against the curved metal, until it's lifting from his head.

You can't look away, in spite of your distress.

He's achingly handsome, beneath. A puzzle, finally completed with the full curve of his nose. The shape of his cheekbones, where dark hair curls above. And his eyes.

Eyes that seem familiar, eyes that you've seen before-

Finishing his thought, his gaze a heavy weight, "I didn't want you to find out like this."

Your head shakes, "You can't be. We haven't, there isn't a mark-"

He takes a cautious step forward, and you take a large one back. Your hip colliding painfully on the edge of the desk, the chair scraping against the floor as you try to move away from him.

"There is a mark." Din's fingers lift, finding the fastenings of his armor - those maroon eyes still fixed on your face.

Removing his gloves, his gauntlets. Unlatching his shoulder plate, leaving them to rest on the ottoman. Pulling at the knots that attach his sleeves to the tunic beneath.

Baring his shoulder.

He wears a scar like yours. The one that you had gotten that day - when you had thought it had been from when you fell. Patched up with magic, before you had awoken.

It’s a reflection from what you're used to looking down and seeing, curving up his bicep. A smaller, splotchy shape next to it.

It's familiar. You've seen the shape before, etched into the silver pauldron he wears. The design is stylized, but it’s there - you’re not sure how you missed it, before.

"When?" You whisper, eyes fixed on the curve of muscle and skin.

"That morning you've been thinking of." He answers. His voice is different without his mask. Softer, still rich in tone, "When I feed. You go back to it so often."

It twists your stomach, turning you stone-still.

It was real, it was real, it was real-

"Why did you do it?" Your voice breaks over the words, "That town. My home-"

He takes another step closer, and you react like a feral cat. Spitting and hissing to keep away from him, that dagger brandished like a sword. His face is all angles and shadows, sorrow and confusion and so matching yours.

"I was there to help. I was there for you."

Your head shakes, not understanding, "No. You started the fire in the inn. They told me you killed all those people, that vampires ripped apart the houses-"

Nothing was making sense.

"I am strong, but not that strong cyare." His head shakes, "If I wanted to, I could have hurt the townspeople. But there's no reason for me to. I’d never-”

His expression changes into something that tips towards self-loathing, as his words halt. The next comes more slowly.

"I was there, looking for you. I had sensed something when I was nearby-" Din's head shakes, "Your heart. I could hear it. I wanted to see what you were."

Your grip on the stake loosens, drawn in by his words. Another proof of your connection.

"I stayed in the village for two days." He sighs, "And then, I saw you in the marketplace. You were so beautiful and so happy, and it became so clear that this was your home. So I left, instead."

As he moves, there's a clear shot through the doorway. A few minutes ago you would have bolted, but now - now, you find yourself sinking into the chair. Back where this all began.

Remembering that prickle, the hairs on your neck rising, those days before. That feeling of being watched. Nothing more than a brushed-aside moment.

"I left that night. But then, I found myself called back." His eyes fix on yours then - bright, in spite of the long hours away, the days without eating, "I heard your fear and I came."

It feels like you're seeing, for the first time. Bits and pieces through a filtered lens, slowly coming together. But still blurry, enough out of focus that you still can't see the subject.

But how could his story be true? They had warned you not to trust him, didn't they?

You had spent a year fighting with your anger and your grief. You had braved the journey here and lived among the vampires for weeks. All with one goal in mind, and to hear that you've had it wrong is-

It leaves you adrift. A moment where you're more unsure that ever, even though you know more than you ever did.

But deep down, you realize you want to trust him. To believe that he was as good as he seemed. As just - a true ruler, that the way he’s treated you wasn’t simply a ruse.

That he hasn't been playing with you, feigning that kindness for all these weeks.

But where did that leave you? Who could you believe?

"I wish that was true." Your head shakes, voice no more than a whisper, "I really do, Din."

He's silent for a long moment. The creak of his gloves as they curl into fists, as you're both left to your own thoughts. Yours tug at you - curling around your legs, threatening to pull you under and into the abyss.

"I could show you." Din offers, then.

“I could show you what I remember."

His hand extends then, palm facing upright. Reaching out for you to take.

You stare at it for a long moment. Gaze flitting to his shoulder. Across the mark, up the curve of his shoulder, to his face.

"You can see for yourself." He coaxes, and you're able to look into his eyes this time.

To truly see, like you had tried to, so many times before. They're clear, and sorrow swims in them.

Not a monster. Not lying.

You can see for yourself.

Your eyes drop back down to his outstretched hand. And after a long moment… you reach out and take it.

With a jerk of his arm, he pulls you close.

And then - he's biting down.

There's a hunger. A deep ache that gnaws at your bones. You don't know how someone can live like this. Your limited vision filtered through shades of greys and reds and browns.

A flinch as you shield away from the rising sun, even through your layers. It curls into your joints, searing the thin sliver of skin at your neck as you crouch.

Something like an echo rattling through you, as the ground flickers beneath your feet. Faster than you've moved before, the smoke and the buildings and the flames distorting as they suddenly loom into view.

The growl that rips from your throat comes from deep in your chest. It's jagged against your teeth as your senses heighten, as you move through the streets on pure instinct.

Ducking into the shadows as they pass by, in their leathers and the dark cloaks and the strings of garlic that you can smell from here.

If there wasn't such a tugging in your chest you'd wonder at their appearance. The pure coincidence of this convergence. But there's no time, not now.

Time skips, and then you're crouching down. The human that you had watched, now slumped against the low stone fence.

Rubble strewn around her, scattered beneath the collapsed overhand she had tried to dart beneath - just barely making it to the other side.

Skin sticky and red at the temple and the sight of it makes your stomach clench. An urge to catch the drip with your finger, to bring it between your lips and see if it tastes as sweet as you know it does, deep down.

Instead, your hand reaches out - curling around her bare shoulder. Your touch like a brand, as your body flushes with heat.

So strange, with how cold your skin has become. For a second you almost feel as you used to - watching as the the shade of her skin changes before your eyes.

As the small curls of thought in your mind suddenly flourish. That reason you can been drawn, why her pulse had seemed to call to you.

Your chest aches. Again, you wish for more time.

There's none right now. It's easy to lift them, with the strength that came with your transformation. Her head lolling against your shoulder, cheek pressing to the beskar of your chestplate.

Right above your still heart.

Shoulders curl inwards to shield her from the heat as you move through the wooden arch, the beams above in flame.

It licks at you, almost causing you to stumble. Only determination keeps you afoot. Just enough to get you out - down the path again, and into the forest.

You've become fiercely protective.

Something had lingered after your eyes had first landed, but that small spark is nothing compared to the inferno that rages, now.

It takes all your strength to leave her there, in the grove. Where she's safe - the trees so old and twisting and the weeping branches so thick that surely, she'd be undetected.

But it's not all you must do.

Another flicker of images, passing so quickly you can’t catch them.

Bodies in the streets. Homes collapsed, caved in as if struck by a canon. Left shattered, in ruins.

There’s an echoing shout, a shadow as you flit back in between buildings, looking for any survivors.

A weight in your chest at this sight, repeated far too often. Your heart was too tender before now to tear this thorn bush out at the root.

But town is small, and there are none left. Everyone who could had already fled, and those behind were now gone. Left to linger as ghosts, or to move on.

Another flicker, another small leap in time.

A shadow that you don't see, as you move through down the main road. A pain like you've never known erupting in the small space between your pauldron and the curve of your gauntlet.

So close to your new mark that you're striking out, snarling. Your arm weighed down from the slice from the silver dagger - if you had blood to spill your clothes would be stained with crimson.

A stranger looms in front of you now. Flanked by another. Torches in their hand - the glint of the dagger catching in the light, stained with a black ichor from where it bit into your skin.

The second, smaller - hands wrapped around an ancient, gnarled staff.

Vampire Slayers. You can smell their stench. The acrid taste of magic on your tongue, something you ignored in your search.

“We knew you'd come."

The whisper is low, taunting.

“You always do.”

Fury licks at you. Giving you the strength to draw your blade, the black sword a heavy weigh in your hand. A growl in your throat as you lunge at the first - the dagger held in two hands as it collides with your downward swing.

Another, and then another.

The ache is ignored with your dance, the slow circling of footsteps. The second Slayer murmurs an incantation, but is battered away by the first.

“I shall do this." She hisses, with the turn of her head.

The distraction is all you need - a hand fisting in her robes, the sound of ripping cloth. A burst of strength to pull them forward, as your blade pushes in, and then sweeps.

With a rattling gasp, her cloven body crumples.

Your vision swims then - blooming with a light that arcs across the cobbled street, all but blinding you.

Flames burn against your chest, with the collision of the blast. Your armor takes the brunt, as you shake it off. The tilt of your helmet as you face the witch - a step as your blade rises, ready to strike again.

She flees, then. With another swoop of her hand as words slip from her tongue. Bringing the building down, blocking the path with fallen stone and wooden beams.

Trapping you on the other side of the town. Amongst the ruins and the lives that had been ripped apart, in their quest to hunt you down.

Your thoughts swirl, as the edges of your vision go hazy.

It's calculated. It's too much.

There's too many - their footsteps overlapping as they circle around to box you in.

At your full strength you'd survive a battle like this - but even as your grip adjusts on the hilt, you know you can't last under the rising sun and with the burn of the silver.

You can't save them all, but you can save her. Your mate, someone you never thought existed, and now. And now-

You have to.

It's a promise, an sworn oath that sears into your skin. You'll come back-

But when you do... she's gone.

The stake and the dagger clatter to the floor.

It's more than you've ever processed. It leaves you weak, wobbly-limbed when he pulls back. An arm curls around your waist as he holds you against his chest, your fingers clinging onto his armor for support.

You see him in a new light. It’s clear now, you had watched that mark bloom across your own skin.

Captured by the swirl of emotions at the end, that desperation - the way it courses through you like an echo. There had been no animosity towards you, in his thoughts. Only... only...

But something eclipses this tender realization - another repetition, a tightness in your chest as you piece things together. Dread creeping in as the last missing piece clicks into place.

Because you knew those whispers. The tones had been in your own ears, those weeks ago. You knew the faces, the ones that flickered in and out of frame as Din had slipped from the city.

The witch. She had trained you. Had told you she passed down all she knew about the monster that had slain their sister.

"It was them," You breathe. "All along."

"Yes." He answers, simply.

Your eyes drop to the mark on his shoulder. Fingers tracing the edge, before they tug at where the fabric pools - revealing the edge of the swooping scar above his elbow. A deep mark, carved into knitted flesh. A final assurance.

"They told me..." The weight grows heavier, the words hard to speak, "They told me it was you. For over a year they told me all the awful things you did."

The fury that courses through you has you trembling - a firm hand guides you to the edge of the bed, letting you collapse against it.

They had been wrong. They had lied.

It leaves you wondering - just how far did those lies go? Your chest is tight as you suck in a breath, preparing to ask the question with an answer you’re afraid to know.

But you must.

“They said they knew you’d come.” You try to make your voice sound firm. It comes out quiet, in the silent room, “Do you think they knew I was your mate?”

Did they know, and yet still they convinced you? Twisting you, when it became clear you didn’t remember? The thought was cruel, something truly vile.

“No. We are more alike than you know.” His voice is hard, a grit of his jaw, “I am a foundling. I lost my parents to raiders when I was young. Brought up by the Mandalorians, before I was changed.”

You breathe out a sound of sympathy, some of your anger waning at his words. The thought of his loss, how it still so clings to him.

“I wasn’t always a good man, but swore that I would protect others when I became the Mand’alor.”

His words grow quiet, “They used that against me. They must have known I was there, and tried to draw me out. You were just caught in the middle. I am sorry.”

Your head shakes.

It’s not his fault. It’s not yours, either.

“We were both manipulated.”

His head turns, his eyes meetings yours for a long moment. There’s a slow nod of his head, the creak of leather and armor as he shifts, as you make room on the bed next to you.

He close now, enough that you can see the fan of his dark lashes as his eyes shut. A deep inhale, taken by instinct and habit, before they open again.

"I searched for you. For a long time. I just needed to know that you were safe.” Din’s jaw works, lost in thought, “But I wasn't able to track you down.”

Before he’s exhaling that sharp breath - coming back, “It was Fennec’s idea to announce that I was looking for a Companion. She picked people from the area, trying to find out news. I never realized-"

Never realized you had been with them, until your memories flickered in his mind.

"We were hidden." Your words are hollow - remembering the days spent travelling.

They had told you that it was for safety. Incantations murmured to keep the caves and abandoned houses near invisible. Always on the move, never staying for too long.

Sacrifices made for the greater good. They had told you, knowingly. You had thought it meant their lifestyle. The crushing weight of revenge, the awareness of what you must do.

Never telling you just how deep that went. How far they were willing to go to rid the world of their own perceived evil.

Unnatural and vile creatures of the undead, in their eyes. The sacrifice of a few was worth it, to take down a creature with infinite lifetimes. But with their obsession, their hands had become soaked in red. Swimming in it. Drowning.

They'd tried to make you kill the other half of your soul.

And you would have destroyed others with it. Ones that had treated you with nothing but kindness, Boba and Fennec and-

"Din." Your eyes are bright, meeting his. Tears of anger pricking at the betrayal - the force of their actions finally sinking in, "They told me to kill you. I almost did, I wanted to-"

He makes a soothing sound, "It wasn't your fault."

"But what if I had? You're my mate, what if-" The full force of the lies are hitting you now, panic rising in your chest at the thought of the loss.

He had looked for you. He had saved you. Din was your soulmate, and in your anger you had almost-

"Cyare," His voice grows firm, "Your thoughts are so open. I could not make sense of your memories until recently, but I could always feel your doubt."

He absolves you, as he reaches for your hand. Your own fingers curling around, entwining in a perfect fit.

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”

His words, his touch, brings comfort. Your grip tightens in his and he meets it with the sweeping of his thumb over your skin. Soothing you, like he always had.

Leaving you both to your thoughts, for a moment longer. For you to focus on the weight in your heart, with just how deeply you have been fooled. As the anger begins to fester, in your long-opened wound. Poisoned down to the marrow.

He had known the beginning, but you knew the end. And together, as the pieces weave together - you think you finally understand.

That picture of deception, now crystal clear.

And you finally believe.

“What happens now?” You hear yourself ask.

Where do you go, from here? Is it too late to start again?

His hand slips from yours, as he stands. The look he gives you is long and solemn, as if he’s committing every detail of your face to memory.

“Now?” Din rasps, a sharp edge to his voice, “Now, I keep you safe. I should have left already.”

He looms above you now, as your hands press against the bedspread. The tilt of his head as his hands brace on his hips, fingers curling around the hilt of his sword.

His anger finally unmasked, with your final realization. Those feelings of protection breaking their way to the surface, sinking it’s claws into his skin.

“Left?” You echo - and you can see it, then - the change in his eyes.

The way your blood, your lifeforce, had infused him - the warm maroon shade shifting towards a bright, blazing crimson.

His lips part in a snarl, baring the points of his sharp canines. As an energy emanates, the room seeming to darken and close in around you.

As he sinks to a knee, all but swearing fealty. Bringing himself down to your level, as his voice drops, each world coming slowly.

“I want to rip them apart. Do you understand? I would burn the world for you, ner runi.”

It’s a confession, his voice so low and so sure. Like this was the only thing that matters, the thudding echo of his emotions jolting through you as you remember his grief at finding you gone.

In this moment, he is the Mand'alor. Beautiful and terrible, and you suddenly understand that fear that the name brings.

And for a second - it thrills you.

Because he is yours.

Because you are his and you never have to be afraid, again.

You nod mutely, and he softens. The ferocity still lingers but the snarl fades - fingers reaching out. Gentle against your skin as he cradles your jaw, mapping the curve of your cheek.

"Tell me that is what you want." His thumb brushes against your skin, achingly gentle. Asking for the permission to protect you, like he had promised.

You know he’d struggle, if you said no. Swallowing down the bloodlust, the guilt at turning a blind eye until it was almost too late.

But he would, for you.

If that is what you wanted. But your anger now has a conduit now, and it burns in your veins.

You know they won't stop, for how many times have they told you that exact thing? Twisted into monsters by their own obsession.

Your chin tips up, as you answer.

“Yes."

Sorry I mixed up the posting dates on this! I was so sure that today was the 28th! 😵‍💫 The finale (and the smut - thank you for your patience!) will be out on Thurs the 31st! Thank you for reading and I hope you liked the reveal! 💖

cyar’ika - darling/sweetheart | cyare - beloved/loved

ner runi - my soul

(Tags: @dameron-grant-spector, @sugadolly, @writingsofestella, @spaceydragons, @-ohsolovely-, @survivingandenduring, @queenquazar, @alitaar, @dindjarinsslut, @creatureoftheunderworldd, @margowritesthings, @your-slutty-gf, @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl, @lovers-liability )

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin imagine #haunted hoedown #hauntedhoedown

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watercolorfreckles · 8 months

Text

Winter's Kiss - Part 2

Sorry I'm rusty but I had a nice time working on this!

Part 1

Most people assumed that having ice powers meant Villain was immune to the cold. Surely being surrounded by her element only comforted and empowered her further.

What it really meant was that Villain had never truly been warm in her life. Always haunted by a biting chill that rooted in her bones and flooded her veins.

The summer months were easy enough for her to stay regulated in. Her body naturally fended off the scathing blaze of summer sun, meeting something close enough to equilibrium that she didn't have to shiver.

Winter was different. The scales dipped in one, unanimous direction. There was nothing to balance the overwhelming cold, steely and all-encompassing.

Thus, fighting on an icy rooftop, bitter wind stinging her cheeks, and frost clinging to her lashes, did not put her in a particularly amiable mood.

“Shouldn't you be wearing a coat?” she snapped at her nemesis, fighting off the urge to tremble as ice shot to life in her numbed palms.

Hero landed neatly in front of her, blushy nose and pink ears the only indicator that the weather affected him at all. His lips bloomed in a too-pleased smile. “Nope. The new suit has intelligent thermal-regulatory technology. In other words, I'm toasty as…uh…toast. Shouldn’t you?”

Villain’s gaze flicked over him. She could see, now, the steam radiating around him from his stupid heated costume.

Her skin ached for a taste of that kind of blanketing warmth.

A coat did her little good when the cold stemmed from the inside out. She hated him for it. Her glare was as sharp as the icicles in her hands.

Hero stepped closer and his smug smile faltered. He looked her over in turn. “Are you….cold?”

If she could glare any harder, her eyes would bleed.

“My entire existence is cold, I have never not been cold,” she said through clenched teeth. “Now let's wrap this up, Sunshine, so that I can go home and set the thermostat to 85° and hope that maybe, just maybe, I can take the edge off this- this corpse-numb, never-ending, godforsaken winter!”

Her bones felt only distantly attached to her body, dull and torpid as a rotting log.

She took a step toward him and her knees buckled beneath her. Hands caught her waist, lowering her to the ground.

Her breath caught up in lungs scraped raw, mind sweeping blank. All she could focus on was the delightfully warm palms against her sides.

“Villain?” Hero’s brow knitted in concern. Pulling one of his gloves off with his teeth, Hero touched a hand to Villain's cheek before wincing and shaking the icy sting from his bare fingers. “Sh*t, Villain, you're beyond freezing.”

Villain was barely listening. She reached for him as if magnetized, clutching at the heat emanating from his chest. Something pathetically close to a whimper slipped free at the barest fraction of relief, dropping her face against the blazing hollow of his neck.

Hero hissed against the no-doubt unbearable cold of her skin against his. She couldn’t bring herself to care, and he didn’t shove her away.

There was a pause.

“.....Let the record show that you’re the one cuddling me this time.”

Villain scowled. “Shut up.” Her fingers flexed against the smooth fabric of his suit. “This is- is just temporary, and then I’m going to stab you in the face.”

Fingers stroked her hair, brushing the accumulating snowflakes away. There was a click and shuffle as Hero shifted, wrapping her trembling form up in his cape.

“Stab me tomorrow. We’ll rain check.” Scooping her into his arms, Hero stood up.

“Hey-”

“Don’t worry, babe.” Hero’s stupid sunny smile was back, teasing and prettier than she cared to admit. “We’re nemeses with benefits, I don’t actually want you dead. Most of the time.”

Villain’s cheeks might have warmed if she could feel them. Her teeth chattered. “Sp- Speak for yourself, Sunshine. And don’t say nemeses with benefits. You’re em- embarrassing me.”

Hero’s feet lifted off of the ground and they were moving through the air. Villain glanced down at the world below them before shielding her face from the abusive wind with his cape.

He could drop her to shatter on the pavement. Fragile as ice.

They touched down minutes later, and Villain didn’t bother to pull the cape away from her face to check where they were. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep, Hero wouldn’t put her down… She couldn’t imagine peeling herself away from the shallow reprieve of his body warmth.

Hero shifted Villain’s weight into one arm. Metal jangled, followed by the rustling of a doorknob. Pushing it open with his foot, she felt Hero cross the threshold.

Peeking through the threads of Hero’s cape, warm lamplight washed the room in a honey glow as he clicked on the light. He shut the door and locked it.

Her ears perked up at the familiar crackle of flames dancing nearby. She tugged the cape down just below her eyes, still blanketing her nose and cheeks.

Hero chuckled. “That got your attention.” He pulled a chair in front of the fireplace and sat down with her puddled in his lap. His free hand smoothed back her hair, staticky from his cape. “Better?”

The glorious heat rolled over them in waves, and Villain bared her pink fingers toward it, eyes fluttering closed. “Mmm.”

Lips summer-hot and gentle pressed against her jaw. Warmth sparked low in her belly for an entirely new reason. Her breathing stuttered, turning her face toward his.

Hero took an icy hand in his, blowing warm breath against her knuckles.

The bone-deep ache began to thaw. Her eyes glued to his.

Her beautiful, insufferable,.. kind idiot.

She leaned in. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

A haughty and fond smile lit up his face. “Kill me when winter ends.”

Eyes flitting down to his perfect mouth, Villain caught his searing lips with her own. They chased the chill away together.

Neither of them wanted winter to end.

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl, @valiantlytransparentwhispers, @distance-does-not-matter @redbircl, @lilaccatholic, @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @thelazywitchphotographer @chibicelloking, @lolafaiy, @thinkwrite5, @putridghost @tobeornottobeateacher @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @feyriddle, @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1, @distractedlydistracted @pensivespacepirate, @appleejuicee, @deflated-bouncingball @maybe-a-cat42, @m0chik0furan, @mercurymomentum, @fairysprinkles , @vuvulia, @amongtheonedaisy, @rose-pinkie, @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room, @scorpio-smiles , @inkygemuwu , @wolfeyedwitch , @thewhumpmeisterx3000, @ikiiryo , @lem-hhn , @fanastywhump , @smallangryfish , @ladybookworm @freefallingup13 , @acaiaforrest , @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict , @talkingsperm , @qualitychaoslover , @deckofaces ,@7eselt , @annablogsposts , @lunatic-moss-studio , @medusas-hairband

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drarryspecificrecsdaily · 10 months

Text

2023.12.13

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. Our Voices by @xx-thedarklord-xx [T, 1k]

►Fans wanting to meet the Harry Potter was always an annoying part of owning the Tornadoes Quidditch team for Draco. But when a little boy stands in front of him clutching a Quibbler magazine, eyes wet pleading to meet not Quidditch player Harry Potter but instead the Harry Potter that came out as bisexual, Draco knows that he's about to break his firm no fan meeting policy and allow the kid to meet his husband

---

Fest/Exchange

1. First Frost by Anonymous [T, 4k]

►A story of forest walks and forgiveness, with lots of of wintery vibes and symbolism aplenty. ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

2. Jasmine in Bloom by Anonymous [E, 41k]

►This is not something Draco can have in his life… Potter overturning all that he’s carefully cultivated. They’re not compatible and never will be. Draco’s been playing with fire. It just so happens that he likes how Potter smoulders before being allowed close enough to burn. ★ H/D Erised 2023 | @hd-erised

3. The Snowman by Anonymous [M, 3k]

►Snow has fallen steadily all night long, and Draco wakes in a room filled with light and silence. It's a December day, five years after the War. It's on this day that Draco makes the snowman. ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

4. An Unexpected Santa by Anonymous [E, 4k]

►No, that can't be Draco, can it? Teddy swears it is. ★ Harry/Draco Owlpost 2023 | @hdowlpost

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #daily list #2023 #2023.12

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loquaciousquark · 5 months

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A (late) state of the garden, part 2!

This year I was determined to get blues and purples for my annuals, so naturally I came home with a sea of oranges and pinks. I'm also going to get blooms this year on all! three! hydrangeas!! in the front, which hasn't happened...ever! The first one I bought the year I got the house, and it's crazy to me it's as high as my chest now. One I bought the year after and it's not grown more than a few inches, so I'm wondering if I accidentally got a dwarf variety. The third (white) one I planted two years ago (and much too close to the big hydrangea), but with last year's terrible late frost of course I got nothing and was terrified it had died, but this year it's put on about a foot of growth already and has half-a-dozen buds on it. 🤩 I may move this one eventually a few feet over, but I'm going to enjoy this year's blooms first.

In the back box garden, I planted white salvia, some salmony zinnias, and some bronze and pink Liberty snapdragons that Hamlet keeps stomping on. Not sure what to do about that, but for now I've added some stakes and tied them loosely upright to hopefully deter him, though I have no idea how to protect the zinnias. I also planted some purple towering salvia that I'm completely in love with and will definitely pick up again--this box is about twenty yards from the house, so the height is perfect when I'm looking out!

In the front brick garden I planted more Liberty snapdragons (bronze, pink, and white), some Flamma twisted red celosia, and red calladiums. I used to pooh-pooh calladiums so much (why bother if they don't flower?) and now they're one of my favorite accent plants.

At the end of the driveway I planted two pots of red pentas since they always do so well there, and in the taller pot I did some white cleomes, which are new to me but doing well. I finally replaced the janky soaker hose there with a proper sprinkler, and both the pots & the jasmine are much happier. (The honeysuckle still looks like trash, but what can you do.) (Tear it up and plant more jasmine, that's what I can do.)

The hostas in the same area continue to be annoying princesses. Again, one hosta has come up and completely taken over the end of the lane, while the other five (all purchased at the same time! all planted at the same time and depth!) can barely be coaxed to put up a leaf or two until late May. Finally, my own tea olive in the front did also survive the frost (although it's going to look pretty weird for a few years, I think), and has put out a respectable number of blossoms this year, although I was hoping for more.

#quark's gardening tag #long post for ts #this is it for now!#look forward to the may update in july #quark rambles

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juniper-sunny · 1 year

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A Knight to Remember - Part 2

Medieval AU | Knight!Silco | Silco x Female!Reader | No (Y/N) | Romance | Slow Burn | Eventual Smut | Fluff || SFW | WC: 7.56k | art by @designfailure56 (full piece here) | betas: @deny-the-issue @silcoitus <3

ao3 || Part 1

Your repeated efforts to bond with your new knight are slowly but surely rewarded…

taglist (open): @sherwood-forests @ilikemymendarkandfictional @ursawastricked @quirkykaty @let-the-monster-out @ariaud

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Winter snow buried the meadow like thick furs draped over a soft bed. You felt the loss of the colorful wildflowers quite keenly, but the blank canvas of frost provided its own amusements.

The knight had never seen snow before. Despite your best efforts, he did not take to the cold well. He refused to join you in frolicking or making snow angels and only looked on in annoyance when you lobbed a snowball in his direction. He would blink furiously when a snowflake landed on his good eye and endlessly brush the falling snow from his styled hair until he started wearing his hood up, pulled low over his brow. As graceful as he was, he did trip once and fall, surprised that the snow cushioned his fall like a pillow— an icy cold and wet pillow.

The nostalgia for your younger days was potent. As children, you and your brother were allowed to freely play in the snow. All too soon, the behavior was deemed unseemly for the offspring of your lord father. It was an impulse you had not yet grown out of. After years of solitary excursions, you had forgotten how much you enjoyed having a playtime companion, even a reluctant one.

But the knight never complained, remaining as close to you as always. If you were not the daughter of his lord, there was no doubt he would have voiced his displeasure in many colorful words. As it were, you suspected he held his tongue not for your sake but your father’s. You paid the knight extra silver whenever he indulged your whimsy and made sure the kitchens supplied him generously with hot broth for his supper.

Still, the arrival of spring was more than welcome. The snowmelt was slow, the ground churning with slush and mud under your feet. Weak rays of the sun returned, piercing through the clouds as a soft caress on earth and skin. Then breezes blew in with gentle, refreshing warmth. The trees were no longer naked but dotted with little green buds, promising to grow into full leaves. You no longer trudged through piles of snow. Small piles of unmelted frost no larger than a puddle remained, none of them large enough to mischievously shove the knight into.

At the beginning of the season, the wildflowers were asleep. Nothing poked out of the dirt yet except for short grass. And yet you visited the meadow as often as you could, hoping to see the vibrant blooms once again.

The unexpected discovery was immediately visible.

From a distance, the thing was round, small, and white. At first, you thought it was another lump of snow. You paid it no mind and made to sit at your favorite spot, but the knight stepped in front of you, an arm raised in caution.

“What is it—”

The knight hushed you, turning to raise a long finger to his lips.

He stepped forward cautiously, raising and lowering his feet with the utmost care so that his steps might not be heard.

His hand drifted slowly but purposefully towards his sword, grip wrapping slowly around the hilt. Unsheathing it deliberately so that the noise was low.

At last he brought his sword to a draw. You followed him, unconsciously mirroring his pace.

You both took another step forward and then the shape sprung up. Or it tried to, before collapsing onto the ground again.

It was a tiny wolf pup, white on its chest and grey on its back and head. Black eyes and a small nose stood out on its soft face. The breeze ruffled its short fur, no doubt fuzzy to the touch if only you could pet it. It had not yet grown into its overly large paws, sized like apples at the end of thin sticks. Pointed ears lay flat against the back of its head as it regarded you and the knight with wariness and fear. When it yelped and growled, it was too high-pitched and juvenile to be anything except adorable.

The knight seemed to feel differently. He walked more confidently and quickly forward, raising his sword to swing.

“Stop!!” you cried out when you realized his intent. “Lower your sword!”

He did but did not sheath it. When you stomped over to him, he pointed at the pup. There was a wound on a leg that you had not noticed before. The smears of dried blood on the creature’s fur obscured its severity, but the pup whined in pain and licked furiously at it. Such was its distress that it ignored the threat of the sword to tend to its own hurt. But it explained why the wild animal did not flee at the sight of humans.

“The injury is grievous. It is unlikely the pup will live to see the end of the day,” the knight said in a detached manner. “It would be a kinder mercy to give it a swift death.”

“That is not for you to decide,” you said furiously. You had already paid the knight his silver, but you shoved your whole purse in his face. “Run to the nearest alehouse and buy four legs of chicken. Return here as soon as you can. Quickly now!”

He raised an eyebrow at you, but your resoluteness left no room for debate. After he left, you backed away several paces. The creature needed space, but you still wanted to keep an eye on it. You slowly went down on your knees, lowering yourself gradually to not startle the creature. Its gaze followed you, watching you close should you lunge forward. You slouched as soon as you were able to sit. Hopefully, you were small enough that the creature would know not to fear you.

Its eyes never left you. It cocked its head at an angle, appraising you curiously. You turned your gaze away from its face, watching its paws instead. To meet its eyes would mean you were challenging it as a larger, fiercer predator.

Despite your command, the knight’s absence felt like it lasted an eternity. He was gone long enough that the pup finally lost interest in you and resumed cleaning itself. You let yourself glance at it. It was too cute and strongly resembled the pet dogs you had seen running around town.

Finally, the knight returned with a wooden plate in hand. It was stacked high with chicken legs, freshly cooked and steaming with heat. You gestured for the knight to sit next to you, and he did so with his legs crossed. In your haste, you burned your hand on the hot food. Swearing under your breath, you pulled your sleeve down as far as you could over your fingertips. It was not much use and you were forced to wait.

The pup returned the force of its full attention to you. Its nose twitched as it sniffed furiously, and it tried to stand on all four legs. The endeavor was clearly painful as it rose unsteadily, whimpering all the while. It only managed to wobble in place before it collapsed.

You touched the chicken again. It had cooled off enough that you could rip chunks of meat off. After shredding a decent amount of chicken, you took careful aim, closing one eye to gauge the distance between you and the animal. Your first throw was too long; the pup followed the trajectory of the thrown meat intently, lifting and turning its whole head when the food landed behind it. The next throw was much too accurate as it hit the pup square on the nose. It blinked and yelped again, but its consternation was soon forgotten as it sniffed and ate the offering, eyes wide with happy surprise.

You smiled at your victory. More food was tossed at the animal, and in its eagerness to eat it attempted to leap into the air. As the pup’s delight grew, so did the knight’s disapproval. His lips thinned and a notch between his brow deepened as it often did when he looked at something he disliked.

“You may speak freely, sir knight,” you said without looking at him.

He frowned, the scar on his upper lip pulling into a longer cut. “You are wasting good meat.”

“If you are so worried about the loss of food, you may have some for yourself,” you retorted. “And I would thank you to remember that you did not pay with your own silver.”

“The pup will not survive even with your help.”

“And yet I refuse to withhold my help from those who need it,” you said. His words were maddening, but you needed to focus on shredding another chicken leg. The action helped hide how your hands were shaking with anger. If you were not concerned with scaring the pup you would have rounded on the knight. “Why did you save my mother?”

His expression of surprise mirrored the pup’s, brows raising and good eye widening into a teal lake.

“Surely it would have been a ‘kinder mercy’ to let her die a swift death. And it would have been less trouble on your part to leave her to her own devices.”

“Does your mother know you speak of her this way?”

“I am not speaking of her. I am speaking of you, sir knight— and your inclination or disinclination to offer help,” you shot back at him. “Why did you come to my mother’s aid?”

He regarded you carefully, looking down his long nose at you. But for once his judgment was not turned on you. His eye was curious for your reaction as he spoke thoughtfully, “My motivations were selfish, I admit. Your mother’s carriage and retinue indicated she came from a family of wealth. I hoped to be rewarded upon her rescue.”

“Was escorting an ealdorman’s daughter part of the reward you had in mind?” you could not help yourself from asking.

“No,” he smirked. “But your father’s hospitality and silver are very generous rewards indeed.”

“And there you have it. If we let nature determine our fates then you would have me let the good people— and animals— on my father’s land starve, all for the misfortune of not being born into wealth,” you said firmly. “I would not let that happen while I am still able to offer help.”

“Help in the form of your father’s silver,” he commented dryly. Leaving unspoken his distaste for the privilege you were born into. He had never spoken of it out loud, but hearing of his formerly impoverished lifestyle made you self-conscious at times.

“It is as much part of his responsibilities as it is mine to see to their needs.”

“So you are motivated solely by a sense of duty?”

“Partly,” you admitted. “But perhaps there would be more good in the world if more people felt it was their duty to be kind.”

He stared at you now, an incisive glint in his eye as sharp as the day you first met. You turned away from it, uncomfortable goosebumps rising on your neck. The third chicken leg was ready to be shredded, so you turned your focus on that. Ripping the meat apart with more concentration than was necessary.

Finally, he dropped his gaze to the last of the food. It had cooled off considerably, and he grabbed the last chicken leg. He looked it over before biting into it. It seemed as if he claimed it for himself, but he spat out the morsel and tossed it to the wolf. It yelped in joy as it darted between the food you and the knight threw, too greedy and confused to know which bits to eat first.

“The morsels you are shredding are too large, my lady,” the knight said.

“And yet the animal does not seem to mind,” you smiled at him, grateful for his help.

You were loath to leave the pup behind. Its eyes were watchful as you and the knight departed the field, bare chicken bones left behind on the plate. Your feet followed the path home as if they had a will of their own, such was your concern for the pup that you had little room in your mind for anything else. Worry plagued you for the days to come. The wait seemed an endless infinity until you finally found your next opportunity to return to the meadow.

The pup was still there, having dragged itself to the nearby bushes for shelter. It could not put its full weight on its injured leg which was still in a bad way. There was recognition in its eyes as you made another careful approach. You were able to come a little closer than before. It growled and you stopped, although the sound was more akin to a stomach rumbling than a feral warning. You sent the knight off for more chicken and played the throwing game again when he returned.

Several months passed in this manner. After each visit, the pup allowed you to come closer and closer, closing the distance by paces. Its health seemed to improve; although it did not often attempt to walk, the animal would sit up at attention at your arrival. It did not need to lie down as often and would only do so when it had finished eating. Still staring at you with wide eyes, slow blinking as it fought the temptation to slumber in your presence. Its appetite grew as well. Soon, four chicken legs were not enough to satisfy it, as it would stare at you expectantly once you had given it everything, licking its lips in anticipation of more. The knight did pause when you asked him how much more you should buy.

“We have fed it enough, my lady. Surely we may cease feeding it,” he said. “If it should grow dependent on us then it may not learn to hunt properly.”

“It has not yet died from starvation or thirst,” you pointed out. “Perhaps it has been hunting on its own during our absences.”

“If this pup were a child, we would be indulging its laziness. It would grow into an adult with no ability to work. The aid we have already provided is more than adequate.”

His statement annoyed you, as he so often did when he disagreed with you. But you took satisfaction in his use of the word “we”. He had seemingly come around to your way of thinking even if he never admitted it out loud.

You were about to protest when the pup stood up. It limped forward cautiously. When you first arrived, you and the knight sat a fair distance away, far enough to place a long feasting table in the space between. The pup tried to cross that distance now, weighing heavily on three feet before quickly hopping on the fourth injured leg. Its gait was unsteady but its gaze was focused on you.

The knight leapt to his feet and took a stance in front of you, putting himself between you and the animal. Clearly intent on protecting you from its approach. You had forbidden him from drawing his sword on the creature, so instead he reached out to grab it by the scruff of its neck. As his hand neared the animal, it looked up, head cocking to the side in curiosity.

Before the knight could react, the pup’s pink tongue darted out, licking the chicken grease off his hand. The animal’s eyes widened, shining with concentration as its tongue thoroughly enveloped each of the knight’s fingers in turn, engrossed in polishing off what little was left of its earlier meal. He froze in place and his stunned reaction allowed the animal to keep licking away with abandon. When it finished, it licked its lips and nose, finally satisfied that the knight’s hand was clean.

All the while, you had to suppress your laughter, clutching your sides as you heaved with silent mirth. The pup shared in your good mood and smiled at the knight, tongue hanging flappy with a great wide smile. It whined sulkily when he remained frozen. Pushing its tiny head into the knight’s palm was not enough to solicit pets, no matter how earnestly it rubbed itself against his hand. Finally, it rolled onto its back, paws flopping charmingly in the air.

The knight stood in confusion. Your giggles subsided enough to tell him, “Do indulge the creature, sir knight. It means you no ill will.”

“What does it want?” he asked, an alarmed tinge to his question.

“Have you ever played with a dog before?”

“No.”

“When a dog shows you its belly, it is a sign of submission. They are showing you their vulnerability as a way of demonstrating their trust in you. I imagine the same applies to wolves,” you added thoughtfully.

He still made no effort to move.

“It’s a show of goodwill, sir knight,” you continued. “You may demonstrate the same by obliging the creature.”

“How?”

“By petting it, of course,” you smiled at him, although with his back to you he had no way of seeing it.

You might as well have asked him to die in battle for you. He was still, no doubt some internal conflict playing out in his mind. It was easy to imagine the knight’s expression of consternation: good eye wide and brows high, his mouth fallen open to reveal the charming little gap in between his two front teeth. The thought almost made you giggle again, so you cleared your throat before stating authoritatively, “Sir knight, I order you to pet the animal. I promise you will enjoy it.”

The order seemed to turn his surprise into exasperation. He let out an almost imperceptible sigh that you noticed only because you were keen to observe what he would do next. The knight obediently sank to his knees, still slow with caution. You craned your neck to watch him place his hand on the animal’s stomach, fingertips first, before smoothing his fingers into its coat, letting his palm rest fully. Then he rubbed slowly, up and down movements ruffling the fur. He did not say anything further but you could tell he was enjoying himself, as he allowed his normally uptight posture to slouch, shoulders lowering in relaxation. Loud and happy panting from the animal filled the air. It was a point of envy that the pup warmed up to the knight first, what with the knight’s reluctance to get involved during the initial encounter. Still, it pleased you to see wonder on his face, the end of his lip twitching upward as if he was fighting the urge to smile.

You were always reluctant to return home after these outings, and for once the knight seemed to share in that unwillingness. He was always the one reminding you that the end of prayers was drawing near. This time, you were the one to let him know it was time to leave. His departure was slow, and as he made to follow behind you he cast one last look over his shoulder. As tempting as it was to tease him for his newfound attachment to the animal, you instead discussed with him how to further aid the pup’s recovery. Now that it readily accepted his touch, perhaps you could administer medical attention. The discussion was cut short when you rejoined your other attendants outside the church.

On your next trip, the knight brought a roll of bandages with him, hidden inside his pockets. Unfortunately, it had been too optimistic to hope that you could help with the pup’s injury so soon. The high-pitched yelps it unleashed when the knight grazed its injured leg were pained, and it once again growled with all the ferocity of a little beast. The knight was quick to withdraw his hands.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sighed. It was hard to watch its suffering and be powerless to help.

“It’s alright, my lady,” the knight said encouragingly. “It will make a full recovery in time. Our aid has guaranteed it.”

You glanced at him. He met your eyes, and his expression spoke of unshakeable confidence. So strange to see this change from his distant indifference to the warm reassurance he was offering you now. The simple acknowledgment of your shared endeavor made you blush and look away. Luckily, the pup had begun licking its leg vigorously and made itself a convenient target for your gaze. You breathed deeply to calm your heart, a sudden anxiety making it jump erratically in your chest.

“What a brave pup to endure such an injury, all alone with no family in the world,” you said wistfully. A thought rested on the tip of your tongue, one that you were suddenly afraid that the knight would object to. But why did his opinion matter to you? As your knight, he would be obedient to your whims no matter how he felt about them. You pushed down your concern and spoke, “If you should go through the world alone, at least you need not be nameless, little one.”

As if it knew you were speaking to it, the pup stopped licking and looked straight at you, staring intensely. You cleared your throat and spoke softly, “You were not born a lion, but you share its courage and its heart. Leo shall be your name.”

The speech was less silly in your head. Now that it had been spoken aloud, it sounded downright ridiculous. What if the pup would not respond to the name? Did the knight think you were too childish or pompous? He did let out a noise of amusement through his nose, not a snort but a low exhale. He was too dignified to snort.

In your embarrassment you wanted to snap at him, but he spoke first. “It is a good name, my lady.”

His validation cheered you. You turned to smile at him, and he returned it with one of his own, both ends of his lips lilting lightly upwards. Not a slanted smirk that showed amusement at your expense. It brought a handsomeness to his face that you never noticed before. A loud, happy bark from Leo drew your knight’s attention, and you were glad for him to look away before he saw how your blush deepened.

As if receiving a name had spurred its recovery, Leo was able to walk slowly but steadily towards the edge of the meadow, looking to rest under a bush. You and your knight departed in the opposite direction. Today, your sense of revelry was not just in Leo’s improved recovery but also your knight’s first sincere smile at you, although you only discussed the former with him. It saddened you to rejoin your entourage, as it meant the end of your private time with the knight. At least you could look forward to your next outing in the future.

On your way back to your father’s hall, the blacksmith Talis hailed you. You greeted him politely as he approached. It was a warm summer’s day and he was shirtless, gleaming with sweat and smeared with grime. Evidence of a long day’s labor at the forge.

“Milady,” he grinned as he took one of your hands in both of his, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. “Are you and your parents well?”

“We are, thank you,” you said. “I shall let them know you inquired after them. Are you in good health?”

“I am, thank you. Your lady mother’s birthday approaches, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“No, not for several more months.”

“Then I will have her gift ready for her by then,” he beamed at you. “Good day.”

“Good day, Talis.”

If you had remained in the hot forge, you would have sworn that was the reason for your discomfort; being near such blazing heat in the summertime was nigh unbearable. However, as you made your way back into town the distress persisted. What could be the cause? You turned to ask your ladies-in-waiting some idle question, hoping to determine if anyone else felt ill at ease. All seemed well with everyone else— except your knight. All warmth had drained from his being, his posture straightened to the point of near stiffness, a scowl on his lips and a notch between his furrowed brows.

More often than not, your knight’s usual demeanor was less than pleasant. But to see his previously good mood suddenly ruined caused you no small amount of worry. The rest of the day was agonizingly long and you were overly distracted, unable to put your apprehension to rest until you met privately with your knight, in the evening as he escorted you to the staircase leading to your chambers.

“Are you well, sir knight?”

“Why does the blacksmith act so familiar with you?” he asked, ignoring your question.

“Oh—” what a bizarre inquiry. It caught you so off guard, you laughed in puzzlement. “His family has served this town for generations. Talis is friendly with all who employ his services.”

“That is all he is to you? Someone your family employs?”

“Yes,” this conversation was becoming more and more strange—

“You have no interest in him beyond that?”

“No.”

“Would he say the same about you?”

“I don’t see why not. He is married, after all.”

“Is he now?” your knight raised an eyebrow at the information. “It is a strange custom here. Do all married men kiss the hands of women they have no interest in? And offer gifts to their mothers?”

“He seeks to curry favor with the ealdorman’s family, nothing more and nothing less,” you said, more bewildered than ever. To turn the tables on him, you asked teasingly, “And what about yourself, sir knight? You have lived here nearly a year now— have you met anyone of interest yet?”

For a man with a singular eye, the knight’s gaze could become extremely penetrative when he wanted it to be. It paralyzed you. Just as suddenly as it began, the interrogation was over. He bid you goodnight, leaving you to stand on the stairs alone.

The whole conversation was too peculiar to dismiss. You paced your room endlessly, repeatedly brushing your hair and remaking your bed, stopping one activity only to return to the other mindlessly. What was the purpose of the knight’s questions? Why did it feel like he did not believe your answers? Why did that possibility fill you with a sense of defensiveness? You had done nothing wrong— so why did you get the impression that your knight felt otherwise?

You stared at yourself in your mirror and shook your head. You had unintentionally made the knight into your confidante when he insisted on accompanying you on your secret outings. And it was only natural to feel a sense of camaraderie with someone you spent so much private time with. It was a mistake to assume that closeness would grow into friendship. His obligations to you began and ended with your commands and your father’s.

Perhaps he wished for your relationship to remain professional, and nothing more. After all, he had quite the withdrawn manner when he first came into your service. Was his tolerance of you solely based on staying in your father’s good graces? There had been others who sought out your friendship merely to use you as a means to an end, without any interest in forming a genuine bond with you. The knight would not be the first nor the last.

You ought to limit your interactions with him. Just as you resolved to do so, a tiny feeling of sinking disappointment settled in your chest, churning into an unpleasant sourness in the pit of your stomach. Was it so wrong to enjoy the knight’s company?

What if he found no enjoyment in your company? That notion was outrightly painful, a stinging little hurt in your heart. Your hand rose unconsciously to your chest, rubbing in circles to soothe yourself.

Well, he would think it strange if your visits to Leo ceased in such an abrupt manner. You would visit the pup for as long as it accepted your presence. Then you would stop sneaking out altogether, or at least find another way to leave the knight behind entirely.

The air in your room felt cold despite the warmth of the late summer.

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Was it your imagination or was the knight’s morning greeting to you even icier than usual? He had a habit of speaking only when spoken to, but his answers seemed even more taciturn, opting only to nod, shake his head, or hum in acknowledgment. If you did not know better you would have wondered if he had lost the capacity for words entirely.

At least Leo did not need words to express joy at your arrival. He was waiting at the edge of the meadow for you today and barked, tail wagging excitedly. His acceptance of you had progressed to the point where he allowed you to pet him. The wolf was so jubilant that he raised his forelegs and batted you on your shoulders, almost knocking you off your feet.

Delighted, you leaned in to hug him. How had Leo’s growth escaped your notice? The wolf may have still been a pup, but only in age and not in size. His body exceeded the length of your torso, his head towering above yours when you sat on your knees. Your arms did not meet when they wrapped around him. His fur was no longer soft and thin, but now rough and thick underneath your hands. You laughed as he licked your face, his wet tongue and hot breath on your cheek. What a miraculous development!

You glanced surreptitiously at the knight. He made no move to separate the two of you. Perhaps he had finally grown to trust that Leo truly meant no harm.

However, the wolf had not quite recovered fully. He had the bad habit of periodically reopening his wound during his sporadic moments of self-grooming. The wound’s severity was never quite as grave as the first day you met. However, the wolf would never heal properly if his self-sabotage was not prevented. Being able to hug Leo safely was a good sign that he would let you bandage him.

When you met the knight’s eyes again, there was understanding on his face. Despite whatever grudge he held against you, it was a relief to know that he would continue his involvement in your plans to help Leo. You wordlessly held out your hand for the roll of bandages just as the knight pulled it out of his pocket. After scratching Leo underneath his chin, you stood up and backed away to give the knight plenty of room.

You had instructed the knight how to restrain a hound, a method that you had learned from your brother. However, today would be the first time that the knight would put this practice into action. You watched with bated breath as the knight knelt next to Leo, patting the wolf’s back. He pressed gently on Leo’s shoulders, encouraging him to lie down. The wolf rested on the ground, staring off into the distance and panting happily, seemingly content just to have the two of you nearby. Then the knight leaned over the wolf, tucking the animal under his arm and grasping its chest with his hand. It was imperative that the knight perform this part, as his strength was greater than yours and would allow him to restrain the animal. Leo was undisturbed and merely licked his lips.

The wound was on Leo’s left hind leg, a sideways cut not dissimilar to the knight’s own scarring. It was a stroke of luck that the injury only spanned the upper half of the wolf’s leg; there would be no need to wrap the entirety of the limb. You adjusted the position of the leg on the ground, highly conscious of the knight’s proximity to you.

His back was broad, long lines sloping into the straight, handsome column of his neck. You were close enough to him that you could have bumped your forehead against his shoulder. The smells of the forest did not overshadow his scent—

Leo boofed in annoyance, his foot kicking out of your grasp. His patience at being manhandled was running out. Hastily, you unrolled the bandages. The wolf whined and squirmed but the knight’s hold was strong, allowing you to wrap the wound tightly. You backed away immediately after you finished and the knight let go as well.

The wolf instantly made to lick his leg only to be confounded when his tongue met bandaging and not skin. He licked and licked and licked, unable to reach his intended target. After a minute or so he became disinterested, turning abruptly to resume staring into the air.

Victory! You laughed in relief and exhilaration. This had been by far the riskiest endeavor of Leo’s recovery and the pair of you successfully completed it unscathed.

“Thank you,” you told the knight, beaming at him. “You did well to earn Leo’s trust. We could not have accomplished this without it.”

The knight regarded you with an unreadable expression but he nodded. “The same goes for you, my lady. Leo’s recovery is a credit to your compassion and persistence.”

“Nonsense,” you turned away from him, blushing. You scooted forward to scratch Leo behind his ears, studying the pattern of gray and black coloration on his fur. He closed his eyes in enjoyment, mouth hanging open and tongue lolling out happily.

“It’s true, my lady,” he said simply. “Well done.”

The heat of your embarrassment burned away any words you may have used to disagree with him. Why did you choose a dress with such long sleeves and a high neckline today? It was positively oppressive in the summer season. You mumbled your thanks, pointedly staring at a spot on the wolf’s shoulder. You felt more than saw the knight sit down across from you on Leo’s other side.

(When was the last time you visited the medic? You needed to stop by at the first available opportunity. Some strange ailment had befallen you and you needed a cure: a mingling excitement and anxiety in your chest, an excessively rapid heartbeat—)

“There is no one,” the knight said.

“I beg your pardon?” you looked up at him finally. To continue avoiding his gaze when he was conversing with you would be rude.

His eye was serious, and he spoke solemnly, “To answer your previous question: I have not yet met anyone of interest.”

How strange that you felt both thrilled and dismayed by his statement. But you giggled and blurted out, “Perhaps that can be remedied. There are a number of my retainers who wish to become better acquainted with you, sir knight.” You winked at him for emphasis.

“I am aware.” Of course he was. He was too astute to not have noticed.

“And you are drawn to none of them?” you asked, surprised. “They are all good people. You need only choose your favorite— I could make proper introductions if you so wished—”

“I do not,” he said, firmly but not unkindly.

“Truly?”

He nodded. He scratched the wolf under its chin, smiling gently. Leo closed his eyes, lost in bliss.

You could not help but sigh, a heavy heart in your chest. The knight’s eye alighted on you. His examination of you this time was gentle.

“That is quite a shame,” you said lightheartedly, or you tried to. “There will be many broken hearts among them.”

He rolled his eye. “If they are good people then they will find love with ease.”

“I hope so,” you said. “You all may live and love as freely as you please. If only—”

If only you could as well. You had stopped speaking, swallowing hard when a lump in your throat made it too painful to continue. As if he could sense your discomfort, Leo crawled closer to you, resting his head on your leg. His eyes were wide and doleful as he looked up at you.

“Are you betrothed?” the knight asked. His tone was casually curious.

“No,” you said, absentmindedly petting the wolf. “But perhaps it is only a matter of time. My father does intend for me to marry. If I cannot find anyone ‘worthy of our family name’, then he will choose for me.”

Even in your unhappiness, you could not help but smile at the wolf. You scratched him behind his ears, avoiding the knight’s gaze as you spoke, “I am sorry… You must think me a spoiled child… my family has more than enough silver to see me live comfortably to the end of my days, and yet I often find myself feeling caged…”

Tears welled up in your eyes. It took such an effort not to cry that you could not restrain yourself from the outpouring of complaints. “There are moments where I wish to run away when the world is too loud. And it very often becomes loud. After all, I am never allowed a moment alone except to wipe my own ass.”

The knight’s lip twitched upwards, but he continued looking at you with sympathy. “We were meant to choose our own destinies. If someone else chooses for you, then the desire to run away is only natural.”

He turned to look directly at you. His gaze was unwavering but a note of worry crept into his voice. “My lady… I have not been fully truthful with you. I wish to do so now. I cannot stop you from telling your parents, but it is my hope that you will not. You will come to understand why.

“I told you of how my brother and I lived in poverty. That was not always the case,” he said. “As orphaned babes, we were left at the church. They raised and fed us when no one else would… but they asked for too much in return. We were expected to join the clergy, to remain and serve for the rest of our days. I wanted more out of life. I asked my brother to leave with me. He was free to stay, but he chose to join me.

“The church and our community spurned us. As if wanting a life outside of monastery walls was a crime. You already know of how we lived… and my brother grew weary of it. He went back to the church and begged for their ‘forgiveness’. Played lapdog after everything we suffered. They agreed— but only if we returned together.

“I trusted him, and he betrayed me. And yet I was the unreasonable one for not wanting to rejoin the church,” he scowled darkly.

You gripped a fist in Leo’s fur. Fury at the brother boiling inside you. “Your brother’s treachery cuts quite deeply, sir knight.”

“May you never experience the pain of betrayal, my lady,” he said. “It can break you, or forge you into something greater. But there are other ways to find strength. To become powerful enough to defy your fate. I hope to help you find it.”

What a blessing to witness so many selfless acts from your knight today. Even as he looked to you for reassurance that he had not alienated you, he still reaffirmed his loyalty.

“I am sorry you endured so much hardship, sir knight. May I say again that you deserved none of it. If there is anything I can do to lessen your pain, all you need to do is ask,” you said softly. Would that there were more words you could offer in sympathy. “I will not tell my parents if you do not wish for them to know… after all, neither of us are as devout as they would like.”

Was the joke too poorly timed? You bit your lip for your thoughtlessness. But your knight chuckled and looked at you warmly. Perhaps the worst of his pain had faded.

You dared not voice this, but you were glad for his survival. Not just because your knight deserved to live freely, but also because he somehow ended up on a path that led to you. Instead, to change the topic you asked him, “Are you happy, sir knight? It seems to me that you traded a life in service to the church for a life in service to a mortal.”

“I do not mind. This life is much more preferable. After all, I chose it for myself,” he said. “And you are a much worthier master.”

You smiled at him in thanks, but the hollow flattery of his words did not move you. His earlier compliment might not have been sincere either. It was foolish of you to forget how the knight was only pretending at kindness towards you. This reminder did not hurt any less than the first time you realized it.

It was necessary to remember it always, if only to guard your heart.

And yet you could not stop from finding happiness in the time you spent with the knight. It was too comfortable a companionship that you had yet to find anywhere else. Trusting each other with secrets you dared not share with others. Made all the more exciting by a certain irony: you were not allowed to spend time alone with any man unless you had an escort, and yet the knight seemingly did not count as a man. A loophole that made your paired outings feel more like secret trysts. No one witnessed your transgressions except for the wolf.

Now that he was bandaged, Leo’s recovery became straightforward. You and the knight changed his wrappings every time you visited him, and the wound was more improved each time you checked. No fur grew on the scar, but the skin was no longer tender and Leo no longer flinched when he was touched. You found yourself making excuses to keep attending to the wolf. His leg might still be weak in the muscle and the bandaging provided support. If the knight found your reasoning to be implausible, he did not remark on it.

Autumn passed and winter came, marking close to a whole year since you first met Leo. He had reached his full size and was now exponentially longer and heavier than you. Yet he was as playful with you as ever, clamoring to lie in your lap and disregarding how his weight crushed your legs into the ground.

A sudden change fell over him as you unwrapped his leg. He stared out into the woods, beyond the horizon. Contemplating something that was beyond your perception. The impulse to hug him overwhelmed you, but as you wrapped your arms around him he moved away, stepping out of your grasp. He stalked away easily towards the edge of the meadow where the trees grew thicker in number. It was as if he had never been injured at all.

Leo turned to look at you and the knight. His eyes were the same brilliant white as the snow on the ground. Staring at you with some unrecognizable emotion. Or perhaps he looked at you with no emotion at all. There was no sign of the pup you nursed to health; only a wild beast remained. Perhaps it was his gratitude to you that did not compel him to run away unceremoniously.

You and the knight stared back at Leo. You dared not breathe too loudly, nor run up to the wolf and pet him one last time.

Because there was the unshakeable conviction that this was the last time you would ever see Leo again.

He turned and loped into the woods, soft footfalls lightly crunching the snow underfoot.

And then he was gone forever.

It should have been a joyous occasion. He was never meant to stay with you as if he were a pet, in such close proximity to other humans who may have wished him harm. His full recovery guaranteed his survival as he rejoined the wild, as he was always meant to do.

But the world blurred as tears welled in your eyes. You sniffed and turned away from the knight, not wishing to cry in front of him. Were your parents struck by a similar sense of grief when your brother grew old enough to travel on his own? It was an irrational thought that would not leave you.

You hunched over, hands covering your face. As if that would prevent the knight from noticing your sobs. The notion that he was bound by your orders to never speak of this to anyone provided little consolation in your devastating sorrow.

The knight sat as near to you as possible. His knee almost touched yours. He moved his hand towards you but stopped just shy of touching your shoulder. He clenched it into a fist and kneaded his thigh.

“He will hunt often and well, my lady,” said the knight. “I do hope that might provide you some solace.”

It did, but not enough to stop the tears. It was many moments longer before you could catch your breath and compose yourself. The knight sat next to you the whole time, a quiet source of comfort that could not touch you but nevertheless felt like twin arms wrapping around your heart.

Part 3

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco x Reader #Arcane Silco #Silco Arcane #Silco fanfic #my writing #A Knight to Remember #AKtR

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victoria-rue · 1 year

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victoria-rue's Recommendation Masterlist

I was tired of play hide 'n seek with old stories in my likes. So I'm just going to leave them here so I can find them better and so other people can find them easier too ♥︎

Recommendation Masterlist part 1, part 2, part 3, & part 4

Stranger Things

Eddie Munson

Beth by @farfromharry

Eddie’s trying to navigate adulthood after a baby is dropped on him from a prior hookup. He tries his best for the baby girl and does well, things are made even easier with the help of his friends around him. When he meets you his life flips again, and although it takes a while to admit your feelings, he eventually ends up with a family he never expected he would have.

june baby by @luveline

you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. queue smiley face oatmeal, grossly misused power tools, desserts on the living room floor, a haircut, and an abundance of nerd metaphors

the pain of letting you go by @strangermarvelss

you've separated from your husband, eddie, but aren't looking to rebound anytime soon. but he is

Penny 'Verse by @queenimmadolla

having found a family in your friends, Hawkins is no longer a sinkhole to you, so when you and Eddie discover you’re expecting, letting all your other plans go in favor of starting a family isn’t all that difficult.

Billy Hargrove

18 by @perpetuelledaydreaming

Billy Hargrove needs a Queen and you need someone to help you get out of the hellhole that you are currently in as you move to Hawkins. It should be an easy and obvious solution, right?

the hurt is good by @bookshelf-dust

Steddie

Good Neighbors (Steddie X Reader) (Book One) by @justmeinadaze

You move into a new apartment complex with you six year old son while going through a divorce. You meet your sexy neighbors Steve and Eddie who are adorable with your kiddo and both care a lot about you.

We're A Family (Book Two) by @justmeinadaze

Steve, Eddie, reader, and her son are now all under one roof taking things one day at a time with their taboo little family.

Marvel

Steve Rogers

the send-off by @earth616variant

Being his best friend and assistant, Howard Stark asked you to be the first one to be tested on his time machine project. After some unexpected errors, you ended up stuck in the modern times of the 21st century. Where you meet the man you thought died years ago: Steve Rogers.

Peter Parker

Infinitely You by @spider-stark

In every universe you are the one person Peter Parker will always love more than anything; unfortunately, he always realizes it too late. Now that they've been granted a second chance none of them are willing to miss out on finally making things right.

Barbie

Ken

Kenough for you by @frost-queen

This Isn't Barbie Land by @guppydoll

You are working away as a waitress at a night club when the oddest man came up to you after your shift and accidentally swept you off your feet. Yet you don't know if you are ready for another relationship after the disaster that was your last one. You just hope everything goes nice and easy. Ken is your doll and he wants you to teach him how to be human and help you through the pain you've been feeling.

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Pure-Blood Potter by @fanfics4all

Are You With Me? by @sourstilinski

Y/N is a Slytherin muggle born. She’s used to her house ostracizing her due to her blood status and her friendship with the Golden Trio, especially Draco Malfoy. But during their fifth year, they discover they might need each other more than they think

Bill Weasley

long hair & tattoos by @wisteria-blooms

You, (Y/N) Malfoy, despise your family’s views on blood purity. Unlike your little brother Draco, you won’t be roped into marrying for status. However, when your father, Lucius, puts down an ultimatum, you’re forced to find a lover for next week’s dinner. With his long hair, tattoos, piercings, and your father’s worst nightmare reincarnated in a man, who better to bring than a much older Bill Weasley? What should’ve been one night of deceit turns to a battle of charades and wits. Just who will crumble first: your family, Bill, or you?

James Potter

𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥 by @astonishment

James plans on proposing to Lily. Trying to calm his nerves, he goes for a walk in the woods, then somehow finds himself in the land of the dead, engaged to Y/N, the corpse bride. With his friends and girlfriend looking for him, can James make it back to the land of the living? Does he even want to?

Regulus Black

Manipulating Death: Season One by @morganalatina21

When Harry discovers he has a twin sister that was hiding for years, he wants to know all about her, specially about her ability to bring people back to life.

Second Son by @cherryslyce

Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

Tom Riddle

Challenging fate by @lovebeinaprincessworld

There were a lot of unexpected things happening the day of the Battle of Hogwarts. Being send back into the past to change the course of history was definitely one of them.

Young Sheldon / The Big Bang Theory

Georgie Cooper

Texas Romance by @countrymusiclover

Y/n is Missy's high school friend, even though the Cooper girl is only in elementary school. She spends a lot of time at the Cooper house and learns what living with Sheldon was like. Through her years of high school, she realized that she's crushing on the eldest football playing brother Georgie. He's reckless and does things his mom doesn't approve of so Y/n questions herself of how she is falling for him. The two have to figure out if they can actually be a couple or not and deal with Missy's teasing.

The Texas Tire Family by @countrymusiclover

10 years after George Sr passed away Georgie and Y/n have to adjust to being the adults of the family. But when Sheldon reunites with the pair he needs them to come to his wedding, except Georgie tells him no. Dealing with two ten year olds and a secret they never expected to hear Sheldon was getting married.

Avatar

Jake Sully

Si fpom by @fluloa

You're dead to me by @chaethewriter

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

folklore masterlist ✩ jake sully by @theseuscmander

widowed jake sully tries his hardest to heal from the loss of neytiri and you’re there to pick up the pieces and mend him back together, even if neither of you wanted to or realized.

Hoodie by @midnightsapphire

you thought jake was the one, now you’re grasping straws at what was.. and what could have been

I See You by @heirtothekingdom (now only on Ao3)

You observe the mighty warrior, the famed Toruk Makto, struggling to adjust to his new life in the Metkayina clan. The gentle whisperings of Eywa push you past your comfort to reach out a helping hand, to ease Jake Sully in the only way you can.

Tsu'tey te Rongloa Ateyo'itan

i want to see mama too by @dreamingofpandora

seven years ago, you had died alongside grace while trying to protect pandora. a few months after your death it was discovered that you were pregnant; leaving tsu'tey to raise your son vu'ran without you. but, things start to get strange when vu'ran is certain he saw you move.

Miles Quaritch

Ma Miles by @mechformers

When your son is taken, left behind by your Toruk Makto, you desperately go on the hunt for your boy. Knowing who took him, knowing that nothing good awaits him, you search high and low through the battlefield of Pandora, praying that Eywa will guide your way.

What Do I Tell My Friends Family by @plzfeedmebread

No More Than a Memory by @chaoticlicense

Miles isn't the same man as his human counterpart. The mistakes of the past are not his own. Neither are the feelings he has for a woman he's never met but remembers as though he has. In another life, you were everything to him. His light, his life, the one who brought a little joy to his dreary world. But you made your choice just as he made his. You both know that neither of you can change the past but maybe, just maybe, you can forge a new future…

Avatar: The New Mission by @milknhonies

After failing his mission to hunt down Jake Sully, Miles Quaritch is given a new mission. Let’s just say you’re not the most co-operative na’vi native and Quaritch loves to put you in your place.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

ONE OF US by @forever--darling

neteyam sully was the next olo'eyktan and for years had been focused on his training and his responsibilities only. he had never accounted for you to become one of them. when you got your avatar body and ended up in the forest alone, being brought to the village and offered to be taught the ways of the people wasn't what you expected. let alone it being neteyam, future olo'eyktan becoming your teacher.

“you make me feel brave//you make me feel safe” by @thesparkisnearlygone

alyara was only six weeks old when she was left behind as the sky people were forced to leave pandora 19 years ago. she was raised by Norm and Max, and she grew up running through the forest of pandora with the sully’s. her love for neteyam had blossomed over the years, but she knew nothing could come of her feelings for him, even after she is surprised with her own avatar. still, she can’t seem to picture herself with anyone else, and she will soon find that her feelings are not unrequited.

Charming Killer by @writing-makes-me-human

You get chased into the wilds of Pandora with a broken communication collar and a bullet wound, but Neteyam finds you. He goes to kill you but an omen from Eywa stops him, and as he approaches you he realizes you are his destined mate.

His Secret Admirer by @teyums

All Of My Love by @kurogxrix

IN WHICH Neteyam’s mother and clan disapproves of your relationship, because you’re a dreamwalker. When you both advance in your relationship, the clan cannot help but attempt to ruin things for the both of you.

Ao’nung

Weakened by Eywa by @shkudss

Ao’nung finally realizes that his actions have consequences

Jake & Neytiri

My Heart Never Knows by @star-girl69

In the safety of the Reef, you know no war. You only know your family, the feel of the ocean on your skin, the feel of the wind blowing through your hair. You know only simple things, the barely there shine of the sun, a reprieve from where you are covered by your sister. You are the moon and she is the sun, and you are destined to live like this. You had long since given up any hopes of a mate until the Forest People arrive, on their colorful flying ikrans. Ronal does not like them. Tonowari respects them. Tsireya is entranced, Ao’nung sees them as new market to tease. With your family divided, you do not know how to feel about them. Until you See them, the parents of this family, Jake Sully and Neytiri, and the sun suddenly feels so much brighter. But your heart never know the future. It is in the hands of Eywa, but you cannot give your heart to these strangers knowing it could hurt. But, it seems this strange man and woman have other plans.

Keep Me Ablaze (Book One) by @star-girl69

The only mother you have ever known is the forest. Yes, you have Grace, other women at the base. But they are not quite your mother. It’s hard for your Aunt to talk about her- but how can you blame her? Alone and drifting through the world, a fire burning inside of you that threatens to snuff out, Grace teaches you alongside the Omaticaya at her school. They call her sa’nok, and sometimes you wish you could call her that too. But you feel like you would be betraying your mother. Neytiri is your spark, even while you’re young, shy when Grace pushes you to play with her and even shyer when the two of you form a tentative friendship. But it grows, and she grows into the woman you know now. Life without her is miserable, but at least you have something new to explore in the form of your Avatar. You run through the forests and help Grace, and soon you are 20 years old and looking out onto your life like it is a prison. You could leave. Go to Earth. But you couldn’t leave the forest, your Aunt, the memories of your mother and father. Then, Jake Sully comes, a warrior with no legs, who holds the same spark as Neytiri does. But with the weight of impending war looming on each of you, death everywhere, you don’t know if they can keep you ablaze.

Ember in Your Hands (Book Two) by @star-girl69

Although a part of you had died, you found that you were still full of life. With children running around and healed scars, life is what you dreamed about during those dark nights so long ago. You don’t know betrayal anymore, you don’t know loss or suffering. When you’re forced out of the only home you’ve ever known, you find yourself becoming hateful and bitter. You blame your mates, who have only ever burned for you, for all that has happened. You’ve changed and they’ve changed, and you’re not sure if they can keep you ablaze- not this time. You’re just an ember in your hands.

Yawnetu by @sunandsstars

One other mate was enough, but two? Unneeded. _ was the outcast, the unwanted woman. Jake and Neytiri wouldn’t ever see her..right?

Tonowari & Ronal

Yawnetu by @sunandsstars

With her arrival in Awa’atlu, reader seeks to find a sanctuary for her family, one that she may find in two particular individuals

Neteyam & Ao’nung

He's Not So Bad by @biolumilunareclipse

your parents as well as the his had decided that you would be ao’nungs mate and the tsahìk of the metkayina clan. you were to be mated after you had both reached a certain point in your training. naturally, they suggested you help ao’nung and tsireya help teach the forest people your ways in your free time. this allows you to develope a close bond with the eldest son, neteyam, with whom you have plenty in common. as time passes and ao’nung becomes more accepting of them, he realizes they have plenty in common as well.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Willy Wonka

Chocolate Princess by @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf

Y/n Ficklegruber can't help but become enamoured with the spectacularly peculiar man stood in the middle of the galleria.

The Candy Man by @kteezy997

Enola Holmes/Bridgerton

Sherlock Holmes

Upon a nightly walk by @frost-queen

Having snuck out of the house to explore the town at night, you stumble upon a drunken Sherlock. His drunken behavior very silly and adorable to you, you take it upon yourself to escort him home. Once there, you find it hard to leave him alone so you decide to stay. Which comes to a surprise for a waking Sherlock who tends with care for his sweet savior.

Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether

Love at first encounter by @frost-queen

The moment I knew by @frost-queen

You are very bubbly, sweet and wise. Every since you were a little girl you dreamed of becoming a princess. One day you meet Tewkesbury, completely smitten by him and he by you. You are very certain about your future with him after meeting him once. Later during family diner, you tell your siblings you are to marry him. Leaving them with different reactions to your sudden news.

Benedict Bridgerton

love letters and seconds sons by @jimblejamblewritings

The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

The Bear

Carmen Berzatto

Six Months by @aestheticaltcow

parenthood angst

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heartbreak-sandwich · 9 months

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Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC

Summary: After a day of sledding with a group of her former classmates, JJ is freezing and prepares to walk home when Billy offers her a ride. She invites him in for a warm drink to repay his favor, and things quickly heat up when he lights a fire and shares his best tips on keeping the frost bite at bay. Bask in the glow of this incendiary encounter in the next 1.8k words🔥 CW: SMUT, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, Billy is a little demanding A huge thank you to my beta reader and editor @lifesshort-imshorter for helping me bring this piece to life!!!

DAY THREE OF HOHOHOE WEEK Prompt: Fireplace Read the rest of this mini series here: Part 1 | Part 2

JJ stood at the top of the snow covered hill with the rest of her classmates. Quite a few of them showed up to the Hawkins sledding reunion party Nancy had organized for those of them that were home for the holidays. Everyone was complaining about how cold it was and how they didn’t want to be chilled to the bone by falling in the snow. She couldn’t believe these people had agreed to make an appearance solely for a party to play in a winter wonderland and then refused to participate.

“Seriously, you guys?” She shook her head in disappointment. “Move. I’m going down.” The small crowd parted, and JJ steadied her sled at the top of the hill, making sure it would travel straight from where it started. Everyone’s eyes were on her, including Billy’s, whose burned brightly as he watched her daredevil antics.

“Need a push?” He stepped forward and offered to help JJ start her downhill journey. She smiled over her shoulder at him and replied with one simple word.

“Nope.” With that, she took a running step forward and jumped into the sled, the momentum propelling her forward and down the hill. Inspired by JJ’s bravery, the rest of the group followed suit, everyone finally conceding to having the good time they all gathered for in the first place.

The rest of the afternoon was spent laughing, catapulting snowballs, and wiping out in the icy powder. Everyone agreed they couldn’t remember the last time they had so much fun. Billy was just glad to be there with JJ, soaking in the warmth that emanated from her on that freezing winter day.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was setting, and JJ was completely soaked through her clothes. Teeth chattering, cheeks aching from smiling and the bite of the bitter wind, she began saying goodbye to her classmates.

“I need to get going so I’m not walking in the dark. I’ll see you guys at Tina’s in a couple days!” She waved, a chorus of farewells arising from the group as she gathered her sled.

“Walking?” Billy’s voice boomed above the rest.

“Yeah,” JJ answered. “It’s not far.”

“No way. You’re freezing. Come on, let me give you a ride. It’s on my way.” Billy stepped toward her while all of the bystanders quieted, waiting for her to bite back sarcastically. To their surprise, she accepted graciously.

“Actually, that would be nice.” JJ’s whole body shook from the cold as she spoke. Following Billy to where his car was parked, she was thrilled to see he was still driving that cobalt blue Camaro she had always made fun of him for but secretly loved.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Thanks again for the ride.” JJ was still shivering as Billy pulled into the Ferons’ driveway.

“Any time,” he drawled, his signature smirk sliding into place. JJ had the house to herself for the night. Her parents were being entertained at another stuffy cocktail hour for some other overly posh law firm, and while she originally planned to get some relaxation time in, she now had a better idea.

“You want to come in? I’ll make you a hot drink for your troubles.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Billy replied, his smirk blooming into a smile. He followed JJ inside, and he couldn’t help but notice she was still shaking from the cold permeating through her wet clothes.

“I’ll put the kettle on. You make yourself comfortable,” she instructed, leaving Billy alone in the living room.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s all this?” JJ’s grin shone brightly against the dim glow of a fire crackling in the fireplace. She handed Billy one of the mugs she was carrying back from the kitchen, taking note of the pile of blankets on the floor in front of the dancing flames.

“You’re freezing. We need to get you warmed up, and I thought a fire might help. Here,” Billy said, taking JJ’s hand and leading her over to the bundle of warmth he had prepared. They sat down on the plush area rug together, and Billy draped two of the blankets over JJ’s shoulders, wrapping his arms around her, moving them up and down slowly to create friction.

“What a gentleman,” JJ crooned in jest, giggling at Billy’s display.

“Frostbite is no joke, Jacqueline,” he quipped back, his smile still bright in the low light.

“I suppose that’s true,” she agreed. They shared a comfortable silence looking far off into the fire, the crackling and popping sounds keeping them company.

“You know,” Billy started. “Body heat is really the most effective way to warm up.” JJ met his gaze, and his ocean eyes were dark with a devilish haze. She knew exactly what he was playing at, and she loved this game.

“Oh, well, in that case.” JJ stood up, letting the blankets fall from her shoulders, and pulled her sweater over her head, discarding it onto the floor. Billy’s eyes followed her every move as she peeled off more layers – t-shirt, undershirt, pants, socks – until she was down to just her underwear, her blue lace bra almost matching the color of his stare.

Billy followed suit, shedding his sweater, shirt, and pants, still watching her all the time. JJ felt the heat of a blush creep up to her cheeks just looking at him. He was like a God. The outline of every dip and valley of Billy’s body was contoured by the flickering of the fire. His golden skin looked butter-soft, and all JJ wanted to do was touch him, but she forced herself to be patient.

They returned to their seats on the rug, and Billy leaned closer to her, cupping the side of her face in his hand with a hungry look in his eyes. JJ’s lips parted as Billy ghosted his thumb over them, and there was no more talking. He kissed her slowly, with passion and sincerity, and she was already losing herself.

Billy tasted sweet like honey and warm sugar, and soon JJ was melting into him while their kisses turned fiery, all teeth, tongue, and desperation. Billy pressed wet, needy kisses to her jaw, her neck, her collar bone, leaving playful bites in his wake. JJ’s breathing grew heavy, and all she wanted was more, more, more.

Just when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, Billy leaned into her until her back was pressed into the thick, plush rug in front of the fire. He lowered himself to her face one last time, locking her lips into his and running his tongue along the bottom one, then the top. He was teasing her, and she was eating it up.

Billy placed nips and kisses again down her neck, to her collar bone, to her chest, and he didn’t stop until he got to the top of her panties, taking the waistband in his teeth and letting it snap back against her skin. He glanced up at her from between her thighs, eyes full of sin, and JJ’s heart hammered double time.

“Are you warming up yet?” Billy asked seductively before pressing his warm, wet tongue flat against her clothed slit, just enough so that she could feel the rush of his hot breath.

“Whatever you do,” JJ warned, running her fingers through Billy’s sandy curls, “just don’t stop.” A dangerous grin formed on Billy’s face just before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her legs, tossing them to the side. Big, strong hands pushed her thighs apart, making room for Billy to nestle down in between them. His breath ghosted across her bare skin, creating goosebumps over her entire body as he licked a long stripe through her folds.

JJ’s breath hitched at the contact, and she pulled lightly on Billy’s curls, eliciting a growl from deep within his chest. His tongue was like warm velvet sliding up and down and in delicious circles around her clit, and her vision grew hazy in the glow of the flames. She didn’t have room in her mind to care that her moans sounded pathetic and desperate as she tightened her grip in Billy’s hair and moved her hips languidly against his expert mouth.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” Billy’s eyes snapped up to meet hers as she glanced down at his mesmerizing movements, the work of his mouth and his dark stare setting her core ablaze. She let out a gasp when she felt him push two fingers inside of her, curling them up to meet her sweet spot. He fucked her slowly, the constant contact of his tongue pushing her closer and closer to the breaking point.

“Billy, please,” she breathed, her eyes brimming with tears at the stimulation.

“Beg me,” he purred, the low vibrations of his voice against her aching pussy sending shockwaves crashing over her.

“Please, I want to cum for you so bad. Mmmm – please, Billy.” With those magic words, he picked up the pace, thrusting his fingers into her harder and faster and sucking fiendishly on her clit until her moans turned into blissful sobs. Every move Billy made stoked the embers in her core until it was white hot and smoldering, and then there was an explosion.

JJ’s eyes screwed shut, tears spilling down her cheeks as she lost control, her whole body shuddering as her walls clenched around Billy’s fingers. She writhed against his tongue, a string of colorful expletives flooding from her lips as she rode out her climax. Slowly seeping back into the fabric of reality, JJ steadied her breathing as Billy removed his fingers and set an iron grasp on her thighs, pushing them farther apart while his blunt nails dug into her flesh as he held her there.

He continued to lavish slow, lazy circles on her clit, the overstimulation sending jolts up her spine as more tears slipped down her cheeks. JJ couldn’t take it anymore and tried her best to push him away, but he was too strong.

“Beg me,” Billy commanded once more. He wasn’t going to stop until she was a pathetic, weeping mess.

“Billy, please,” she cried. “I can’t take it anymore, please.” He gave one last long lick along her clit and looked up at her, his cerulean eyes shining like the surface of the ocean under the sun. He steadied himself on his knees and stretched his back, the glow of the fire rippling over his defined muscles before he laid down next to her.

“You taste divine,” he whispered. He leaned in and kissed her fiercely, and she could taste the sweet and sour remnants of herself on his tongue.

Once she was finally able to string a coherent thought together, JJ knew she was in trouble. Everything about Billy consumed her entirely, and though she knew she’d never be the same, in that moment, all she wanted was to be completely immersed in him. He was going to ruin her, and she was content to let it happen.

💕Tag list: @imyourdaninow @justsimonrileythings @b1tchy3lf @jozstankovich @darleenjade @peachyaliien @dananahenderson @strangerthing93 @yoyokiss97 @californiaboytoybilly

#Billy Hargrove #Billy Hargrove smut #Billy Hargrove x OC #Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC #Billy Hargrove fanfic #OC JJ Feron #Fergrove <3 #hohohoe23 #day three - prompt: fireplace #writing events #holiday writing event #sando writes #12/20/23

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honourablejester · 4 months

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More Homebrew 5e Spells

If anyone’s wondering, I’m doodling on my lunch break in work. This time, a couple of illusion spells, something for my beloved cold damage, and a mean abjuration spell.

FROSTFLOWER

4th level evocation

Casting Time: 1 action

Range: 90ft

Components: V, S

Duration: Concentration, 1 minute

You channel the power of deepest winter and gesture towards a point that you can see within 90ft. A bloom of frost unfurls, sending fractal patterns of ice across the ground in a 20ft radius circle from that point. This circle of frost creates an area of frigid air in a cylinder extending 20ft above it. The temperature within this area plummets to a lethal, bone-deep chill that saps strength, slows movement, and seeds frostbite. The more effort a body extends to escape this deathly chill, the more warmth and strength is sapped from them.

A creature moving through the area must spend 4 feet of movement for every 1 foot it moves. For every five feet the creature moves, it takes 4d4 cold damage. Creatures wearing metal armour instead take 5d4 cold damage, as the metal hastens the loss of heat from their bodies. Numbed and weakened by the cold, creatures within the area have disadvantage on Dexterity saving throws.

Available to: Druids, Sorcerers, Warlocks, Wizards

(Yes, this is basically a cold-themed Spike Growth, but I just want more cold spells! And, I mean. If you abruptly plummet the temperature in an area to well below freezing, people are likely going to get slow and clumsy in there)

HEX GATE

2nd level abjuration (ritual)

Casting Time: 1 action

Range: Touch

Components: V, S, M (a piece of silk)

Duration: 1 hour

Touching a doorframe or the wall of a passage, you create an invisible gate that punishes those who attempt to pass through it. Choose 2 vertical anchor points that are no more than 10ft apart, such as the walls on either side of a passage, either side of a door frame, or two pillars in a colonnade. Touching 1 of these points, you funnel crackling protective energy into the creation of an invisible vertical pane of magic between the two points, a barrier that is 1 inch thick, up to 10ft between anchors, and up to 10ft tall. This barrier seals to the vertical anchors on either side, to the floor beneath, and to the ceiling above if that is in range, and is not impeded by inanimate objects that occupy the space, such as the door in a doorframe. It is soundless, invisible, and cannot be detected save by the detect magic spell or similar magics. The hex gate lasts for 1 hour, and deals 3d6 lightning damage to any creature that passes through it.

At higher levels: When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 3rd level or higher, the damage increases by 1d6 for each slot level above 2nd.

Available to: Artificers, Bards, Sorcerers, Warlocks, Wizards

(This was inspired in large part by the walls of light from Dishonored, hence the lightning damage. Then I started describing it as a ‘pane of magic’ and I wondered if force damage would be better? But it’s an invisible electric fence, essentially, so I think lightning works)

FAERIE FEAST

4th level illusion (ritual)

Casting Time: 1 action

Range: 30ft

Components: V, S, M (a piece of fruit)

Duration: 12 hours

You create an illusory meal of your choosing in a suitable location within range, such as on a nearby table top. The meal could appear as simple as a bowl of fruit, or as elaborate as a feast, and can appear large enough to feed up to 12 Medium creatures. The illusion behaves in all ways as a real meal, in taste, smell and texture, and lasts for 12 hours at your chosen location before vanishing. Any creature who eats or drinks from the faerie feast while the spell is active must make a Wisdom saving throw. On a successful save, the creature takes 4d8 psychic damage, and becomes aware that the feast is illusory and dangerous. On a failed save, the creature becomes drowsy and feels compelled to find a place to sleep. Within 10 minutes, the creature lapses into a magical slumber, falling unconscious, and cannot be wakened until the spell ends or until they take damage.

Available to: Bards, Sorcerers, Warlocks, Wizards

(This is purely ‘do not eat fairy food’, the spell. I’m distinctly unsure on the level, here. On the one hand, it knocks people out for a long time, and Eyebite is 2 levels higher. On the other hand, it requires a lot more time and set-up than a battle spell like Eyebite, and there’s no guarantee that anyone will actually eat anything, so if luck and/or your DM are against you, it’s a waste of a spell slot. So I compromised on 4th level? I’m open to both lower and higher, though).

PHANTASMAL FOLLOWER

7th level illusion

Casting Time: 10 minutes

Range: 500 miles

Components: V, S, M (incense and a gemstone worth 500gp, which the spell consumes)

Duration: Special

You shape a phantasmal follower to haunt and bedevil a creature you know and have met before. Holding a gemstone in your hand over a lit bowl of incense, you focus on your hatred for this creature until the gemstone shatters with the force of your magic and the dust mixes with the smoke from the incense. You shape this smoke into an illusory spectre of hatred, gaunt and horrifying, and cast them out into the world to find and shadow your target. The phantasmal follower disappears from your side and appears beside your target as long as they are within 500 miles of you. Only your target can see this phantasmal follower, and the follower never leaves their sight, dogging them wherever they go, howling dire predictions and afflicting them at every turn.

The target must make a Wisdom saving throw when the spectre first appears to them. On a successful save, the target takes 9d10 psychic damage and the spell ends. The creature is then immune to this spell for 10 days if you cast it again. On a failed save, the creature instead becomes afflicted by the phantasmal follower, who reacts to any violent action they take. They make all attack rolls at disadvantage while the follower is with them, as well as any concentration checks to sustain a spell, and any Charisma (Deception) or Charisma (Intimidation) checks. The follower cannot be dispelled, reforming instantly if such magic is attempted. The spell only ends once the creature succeeds on their Wisdom save, which they can repeat once every 24 hours. Once they succeed on the save, they are immune to this spell for a year if you cast it again.

You are aware when the creature succeeds on their saving throw and the follower vanishes.

Available to: Bards, Clerics, Warlocks, Wizards

(Intended as a continuation of the Phantasmal Force/Killer spells, this is essentially the ‘summon a grudge ghost on your enemy’ spell. I found it very hard to judge potential costs. It’s a long-term debuff, so I figured it needed a material cost, but again it needs some set-up, and there’s a chance they’ll just take some psychic damage and call it a day. So. Let me know if you think the cost is miscalculated?)

#d&d #5e #homebrew #spells #homebrew spells #illusion #abjuration #cold damage

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elliemarchetti · 6 months

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Rotten Petals, Rotten Feelings

Sad Elriel drabble for my alphabet of flowers prompt list.

Modern AU, modern proof reading (which is none).

Part 2 if you're interested in Gwyn's POV

Prompt: Magnolia – Dignity

Words:685

Elain couldn't stop looking at the photo Feyre had sent her. It had been taken the previous evening, at Rita's. Elain hadn't wanted to join the outing organized by Cassian for his birthday, and not because she didn't love her sister's boyfriend, but because she didn't want to see Azriel. What had happened between them wasn’t a situationship, but it couldn’t even be called a simple friendship. They had kissed at the Christmas party, hidden in a corridor whose lights had remained off the whole evening. They had exchanged meaningful gifts in secret, away from prying eyes, and months of sexual tension had finally resulted in a kiss under the mistletoe. They had parted only when they heard approaching footsteps, and though they had been quick to go their separate ways, Elain was certain that Rhysand had caught them. For days she had been waiting for him to call, or at least text – he had her number, after all – but he never did, nor did he seem in the mood to broach the issue the next time they met. It had taken weeks before she’d found him alone, and he’d been quick to tell her he couldn’t give her what she wanted, even thought Elain never told him what she actually expected. So, with a cold and calculated sentence, whatever had blossomed between them had died in the bud, like flowers bloomed too early on a particularly warm winter day and caught off guard by the following frost.

It's all over now, she told herself when the weather started to get warmer, and her friends returned from their respective expensive holidays. By the time spring arrived, she was sure she no longer had any feelings for the elusive and mysterious guy who had stolen her heart during a snowy day.

It was just a stupid crush, it's normal to have those at twenty-three, she reminded herself when her beautiful garden began to paint the view from her room with the colours of the rainbow. She had believed it, she had felt healed, until Feyre had sent her that photo. She knew her sister hadn’t done it in bad faith. It was among many others, one of the usual reports she did when someone couldn’t attend this or that event. Only this time Azriel, who usually shied away from the camera, was featured in one of the shots, along with a red-haired beauty. The lucky stranger looked like a model, her cerulean off-the-shoulder dress something Elain would never have thought of wearing. It wasn’t overly revealing per se, but it seemed too sexy to be worn in public, more like a sleeved slip than an actual item of clothing. Her long, lean legs, so athletic they removed any doubt about her gym-goer routine, were accentuated by tight vintage boots, and every inch of exposed skin was covered in adorable freckles. Her manicured hands were resting on Azriel’s broad shoulders, halfway between the biceps and the deltoids, and their lips were united in a passionate kiss, decidedly more sensual than the one he and Elain had exchanged.

He's over me, was the first thought that crossed her mind when she saw the proof, but now she was spiralling into more self-deprecating ideas.

“I wasn’t enough,” she murmured, as she sat in the shade of her blooming magnolia. The petals of the flowers on the branches were beautiful, silky, fading from a deep pink at the base to the purest white at the tips, but the ones on the ground, the ones surrounding her, had already started to rot, an eyesore in contrast with the green and healthy grass.

In a fit of anger, or perhaps of newfound dignity, she deleted the photo along with all the others of Azriel she still had on her phone. There was no point in pining over someone who had dismissed her so quickly. For good measure, she also unfollowed him on social media, and deleted his number, to avoid asking for an explanation there really wasn’t any need for. He didn’t want her, and that should’ve been enough to move on.

#elriel #past elriel #gwynriel #endgame gwynriel #acotar drabbles #modern au #elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #i was inspired my own experience to write this so be kind

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sunandflame · 1 year

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🔆Solaris : Pt 2

"Ahhhh" a soft breathy but pleasure filled moan left your parted mouth. Eyes closed shut as your head pushed back deep into the pillow. Your hair laying all sprawled and messily as your hands tightly gripped the soft cotton sheets beneath you.

The only only movements you could feel were your supple body rocking up and down and Yoriichi's thrusts. His pace was slow, his thrusts were deep and each one filled with more love than the last. He made you feel entirely full and satisfied. He hit your G-spot really well enough to make you squirt several times. He noticed your dazed state.

"How's my Uta holding up?" He asked with a gentle smile and then leaning in to kiss your forehead. "Just fine" you answered in utter bliss. The way he made love to your body made it feel like a thousand warm sun-rays were dancing on your skin. You started to clench around him feeling your orgasm close by. His pace changed up a bit as he was nearing his own orgasm.

You both were always in sync even when arousal knocked on your door. He leaned over allowing you to hold onto his shoulder with one hand for support. He freed the other from clasping the sheets so he could match it to his. He wanted to feel you squeeze his hand as you cum.

His ponytail slipped to his side and close to you, this time a yummy strawberry scent of his hair engulfed you. With all that combined your orgasm washed over you easily. His washing over him a second after.

Both your chests heaved from exhaustion. He was quick to withdraw and perform aftercare. He took the fluffiest pillow for you to lay on to support your back. He pulled the sheets over your bodies and allowed your head to lay on his chest. He gently stroked your head knowing your love language well. "I love you my dear Uta".

"And l love you too my Sun King".

See intimacy for the two of you wasn't rough, needy, full of kinks, possessive or lustful, it was a form of expressing how much you love each other. It was gentle and sweet, allowing your love languages to come into play. Being loved by Yorrichi felt much like how the sun gently thaws away the frost of winter. Paving way for spring. It naturally bloomed.

You then both fell asleep.

Dessert is served 😘, hope its to your liking.

PS: those were the only two works of Yorrichi l had😭, and since you loved the first one, here's the last one.

If l write more I'll surely serve you🌸😊. Enjoy!

#thank you for the desert #it was really delicious #kny fanfic #demon slayer #yoriichi x uta #sunny answers ☀︎

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poetryinsilence · 2 years

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Oceans and Engines (part III)

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female!Reader

part I | part II | part III | part IV | part V

A/n: Small allusions to some seggs but still all stuff-down-your-throat fluff. I love symbolisms :)))) It’s all fun and games up until this point. All rainbows and sunshine. Then, BAM! Nothing happens…👀 unless… reminder: fluff to angst

Wc: 2,578

News spreads quickly at Top Gun; it took less than 24 hours for everyone to know that you and Bob are a thing. That Bob got a new girlfriend practically shocked half the crew in Fightertown. Bob, the quiet and shy bookworm got a girlfriend? How is that possible? But, there you are, holding hands with Bob as he pulls you closer in his arms to assert that you are already taken. Hell, even Maverick is still trying to put two and two together but came to no conclusion. You're happy, that's all that matters.

The first time he took you out on an official date, he thought he needed to be sent to the emergency room with his heart racing faster than a Formula 1 car. Accelerating and sweating; the lump in his throat blockaded his airway, causing him to constantly trip over his words. But you didn't mind. His fluster made you fall even harder for his unique charm and attentiveness displayed for you.

He had the evening all planned out, with extra help from Phoenix and Rooster (and possibly a word or two of sarcasm from Hangman). With a good knock on your door and flowers tucked into his hand, he reviews himself once more from the reflection of your window—smoothing back a few loose strands and smoothing out the pesky creases on his shirt. Your door swung open with you gracing a sweet smile, all dressed in a canary yellow midi dress, puffy sleeves and skirt pleated like an accordion.

Bob's brain simply malfunctioned the moment you greeted him in the doorway; lips tugged up to a thin line when you caught him gawking adorably with those baby blues. He blinks, fumbling to compliment your outfit. The pink in his cheeks flooded in as he awkwardly shove the bouquet of carnation he's been holding in his sweaty palms. The split gradient on each petal bleeds from its pink outline and fades to milky white. You gladly accepted the blooming gift in your embrace, smelling its unique scent; spicy with muted tones, and thanking him with a peck on his face. Leaving the flowers sitting decoratively in a vase, you did one last check to make sure the door was locked securely before linking arms with your date. He happily guides you to his car, an old-school 2-door convertible dipped in frost white, decorated with stripes of black and red, straight out of the 60s.

A small trip to a bucolic hole-in-the-wall restaurant for the night, and paired with a drive-in theatre that he found on google. They’re doing a special run tonight playing ‘It’s A Wonderful Life'. To be honest, it's not the ideal first date movie, but as per his teammate's advice, any classic black and white movie are romantic enough to be a first date movie. Bob frowns at the thought of that. The premise of the movie is not exactly romantic, maybe in some aspects. But there's a part he agrees with; if you ever wish for the moon, he would get it for you, even if it seems impossible. But, he would do anything and everything to just live in the warmth of your smile. Shining so brightly that lit up his world. Even stealing the moon would be achievable.

As the night dwindles to strolling by the pier in the late summer air with it nearing the end of smouldering weather. You both agreed that ice cream is the best choice for any kind of dessert, and debating about your favourite ice cream flavours was an interesting experience.

“You are crazy. Nobody likes pistachio. Pistachio isn’t even a real ice cream flavour!” You cried.

Bob audibly gasped at your remarks, “And no one likes toothpaste flavour for ice cream!”

"Robert Floyd, you take that back!"

You chased him down the beach boulevard, laughing until your stomach hurt and tears started to form in the corner of your eyes. He stops, makes sure you're okay and wipes away the droplet with the rough pad of his thumb. Eventually, your breath evens out to its natural tempo, your hands slithering their way around his waist and pulling him closer to your chest as you lay your head listening to the melodic rhythm of his heart beating. The sinus resonance keeps in time with your own. A sound that you've been searching for in whispers of songs, where notes and signals have been overlooked by anyone.

On the drive home, your hand softly played with his blonde curls, and eyes never left the frame of his face. He answers with a delicate grasp on your thigh, tracing little circles on your tender skin—a sense of brandishing his initials onto you. Occasionally stealing glances at you and keeping steady on the road, his eyes illuminated by the feverish reds of tail lights, flashing grains of periwinkle in the night, smiling dreamily in his own little world.

The warm white porch light glows aflame with the undeniable intensity that lingers between exchanging gazes. Heat rises from fingertips still laced like ribbon on a present resting quietly at your side, your keys jangled and hesitantly turn and unclick something within you. Your feet gravitate foot by foot through the doorway, tethering Bob's hand along. The moment click within him too, as his eyes grew wider with your subtle invitation, gliding past the hallway and settling at the door at the end.

Heartbeat kicking into overdrive and travelling through from his touch, every beat felt fatal, and the rush of blood made him lightheaded. The ache and hunger for you is an entirely new experience, unlike any past relationship. The back of your knees finds the edge of the bed and falters onto the plush mattress. He stumbles, steadying himself with a hand and caging you in, and his mouth falls agape from this intimate position. Your giggle flutters at his reaction. Even in the moonlit room, you could imagine the flush of crimson he's wearing.

His throat bobs, and the moistening sound echoes in his eardrums parallel to the pulsating thump. This seems to be a much crazier idea than he'd anticipated, the thought of wanting you—needing you exceeds his limitations. Analysis is his speciality, but you, you're the enigma that overheats him. Even closing his eyes, the darkness takes hold of your shape. The heat pools at the back of his throat and stings harder in his abdomen.

A gasp leaves his parted lips at the sudden touch with the heat of your palms, both daunting and enticing to the borderline of his self-control, breaking down furthermore. The last bit of it crumbles down in a loud rumble with the soft contact of your lips, gentle yet hungry, consuming him all at once. He moans upon the stimulating contact, shaping and moulding him closer to the edge, shedding off his layers. Strong arms hooking underneath your knees, he gathers what strength he had left to take the initiative back into his court, and shallowly enters his desire.

Four limbs entangled beneath white sheets, lips sealed on unexplored skins, leaving imprints to find in the morning. Sparks fly under the night sky as you embrace and bathe in the afterglow. Despite that, the hot spell lingers between bodies and bed sheets, but the night is young.

Seasons dissolved from one to another painted their way with the colourful memories you’ve made with Bob. Every little thing about him bleeds into you and merges with a life of your own. And you with his. All his likes and dislikes, his favourite song you sing along to, the literature he admires with lines and phrases memorised. You know it all like the back of your hand.

Although it seems that everything is working out just fine, a feeling is prickling in the back of your mind, waiting for it to spill out at any unpredictable moment. Mostly the timing isn’t right. But sometimes, you almost let it slip. Those three little words that neither of you has spoken, yet you know it’s there—hiding behind every action and word you’ve spoken. It could potentially bring you both closer, or… maybe he’s just not ready to hear those words yet. The last thing you wanted was to send him running away, but what if? What if it doesn’t? What if things don't have to be at the exact moment, with the exact feeling from the both of you to be right? You just want to pour those feelings out of your chest, even if he takes it slow. And that’s okay.

You and Bob found the ocean to be the place that both of you go to the most. Whenever he gets his days off, you both know you will spend the day there swimming, reading, or maybe doing nothing at all. Just sit and stare into the tranquillity of the waters. It became something that defines you both, a place sacred and holds dear to your hearts. The very place where everything began.

The electric breeze sweeps you up in its soft blanket, and the air is getting thinner as the days go by. Bob scrunched his nose to stop it from running down the pages of his book. You lean closer; shoulders are pressing together for warmth and extra comfort while staring into the pacifying ocean of polynesian. Your foot caught hold of the bumper, steadying yourself on the hood of the car, listening to the rhythm and blues of this landscape.

The sound of strings began to pick up over the radio, and a knowing recognition rocketed into your mind and drew your lips into an upward curl. Your head snaps towards the cute blonde, eyes glued to the book in his hands and unaware of your intentions. You nudged.

“Hey, let’s dance!”

"What, right now?"

"Yes! It's always time to dance. Come on!" you laughed, sliding your butt off the surface.

Your fingers interlaced with his, dragging him along to your spontaneity and espieglerie. He stumbles with his steps and sloppily tosses his book on the hood of his car. Your arms looped around his neck glowing with a simmer of heat and he rested adorned to the small of your back. The ochre sun setting on the horizon; you lovingly beamed at his state of mild frenzy, trying to retrace his steps to your first dance, focusing so intently on his footwork. Shifting and shuffling in basic box steps; it's a massive improvement from the very first time he dances, but still occasionally steps on your toe or two.

A chuckle erupted from your chest while you trail his clumsy coordination with his two left feet to the beat of the song. The rosy fluster flourished his skin in a new palette, both inside and out. You broke off your dance routine to save him from tripping up his noodling feet and just swaying in rhythmic circles.

Deep down, you knew. Bob is somebody your soul always craves. The gentleness he holds of you in the palm of his hand, the length he would go to protect you. You see it all. Everything about him is like water filling up your lungs, loving so deeply that it hurts, and the air is no longer the means to live. Breathe deeply, she said.

His deep-set ocean eyes cradle yours and blink slowly, making you subconsciously bite your lip.

“Hey, Bobby? I, uh— this might seem weird, or kinda out of the blue, but um,” you pause for a moment.

“I always thought that love isn’t made for me. That I would just observe couples in love from the sideline— like looking into a snow globe of your favourite memory. Always outside looking in.”

The emotions stir inside, playing on the thread loosely hanging onto this sweater of defence. Now, it might just come undone with you laying bare, holding your heart out to him, with hands cupping delicately as fragile glass. Take it or break it, it’s up to him.

“This is gonna sound so stupid…but, I don’t believe in fates. I think they’re just some things we tell ourselves to make us less lonely on this planet filled with millions of lonely souls. And yet, I truly believe it’s the fates that brought me to this place. To you.”

Your eyes squeezed tightly, piecing together the thoughts that were running amok. Breathing in the salty air and a count of three, you open them again, this time, with a little glimmer.

“What I’m trying to say is. I love you, Robert Floyd. I loved you from the moment we met, and I finally found the word and courage to admit it to myself.”

As you have anticipated, you watched Bob’s face grow in awe. His eyes were as full as the moon and catching flies with his hanging mouth. You couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in your stomach. Nevertheless, it's good to get it off your chest after weeks of debating with your own inner demon.

"Bob, it's alright. You don't have to say it back," you reassure him, reassure yourself.

"N-no, y/n. That's not..." He pursed his lips together. Bob slowly shakes his head and draws out a soft chuckle. Your brows knot in a tight knit, wondering if you missed a joke or maybe what you've just said was silly to him. If that's the case, you would be laughing along too.

"Y/n...you're full of surprises. I didn't mean to laugh at you. No, never that. I always thought that I would be the first one to confess... Seems like you beat me to the punch."

He lights up with his boyish smile, melting you completely upon contact with its radiance. He had surprised you too. Not only with his words. But he was on the same page as you. Both waiting for the right chance, the right time.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t believe in fates either. But, when I saw you at the beach… I just knew. That my mind screams for you before I knew who you were."

It felt strange to you; a word as little as fate would hold such a big meaning. Despite everything in your belief, the cosmic universe grants you a timely divine intervention when you weren't looking for it. Yet, they twist and coil the kismet of two lives together with a silken twine- a friendship disguised in scarlet effervescent into so much more.

Bob pulls you closer and presses his forehead gently against yours. "I love, I love you. Nothing will change the love I hold for you."

What you give into your hopes and dreams lit up a flame in this spectacular moment. His words meant everything, speaking louder than actions, echoing in the cavity of your chest that owns your heart with the love he offers. Things that were once empty now hold a meaning. Everything means something.

A sonic boom calls out on the distant shore. You watch as the streak of white chemtrail marks across the wild blue yonder, writing a story on the cerulean pages. A girl, looking for a new life; and a boy, a charming pilot, finds his new life. Free falling into the unknown of what it might hold, but with a small chance, they took a leap of faith, stumbling through the wind and crash landed onto one another. Through life, came a glimmer of certainty.

#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert floyd #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fic #top gun maverick fic #tgm fic #fanfic #fanfiction #lewis pullman #⭐️.doc

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enhastars · 2 years

Text

FLICKER

༊*·˚ — flicker | sim jaehyun horror!au

FEATURING! jake x reader

GENRES! psychological horror, thriller, mystery, paranormal, enemies to lovers, non idol!au, slowburn

WARNINGS! mature themes, swearing, gore, vivid imagery, bisexual jaehyun (he had a fling w/ hee), paranormal activity, mentions of religion. nothing sexual (mentions)

STATUS! ongoing, irregular updates

PLAYLIST! fever (enhypen), animals (maroon 5), mind games (sickick).

TLDR!

“seven lost planets melting into stars of hellfire, how could a tragedy not bloom?”

sim jaehyun, part of a notorious gangster duo with the one and only infamous lee heeseung, has his life crumbling before him when he gets arrested in busan. meeting you, the "bad cop" and down to earth FBI agent might've been the cure he needed to solve his reoccurring problem—learning how to love again. except there's one major problem; there's a blood thirsty demon involved.

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— a/n:

hi omg!! my first written enha fic and it’s jake (ofc). i’ve been so mia on tumblr ++ ik it’s been 2 months since spooky szn but i rly liked this old au i wrote a couple years ago and decided to rewrite it !! i’m not really sure how chapter installments work on here but i’ll figure it out lol

alsoo this fic used to be a taekook one (i know stfu) so that’s why jake and heeseung had a little fling or whatever in the beginning but this is an x reader fic! so it won’t be mentioned often :) and also bisexual jake just feels right so i’m going with it

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masterlist:

1. Introduction

2. The Beginning

3. The Follower

4. Interrogation

…. and more to come!

SUNGHOON had never been one to be afraid of the dark.

Of course, the petrifying gazes of dolls frightened him, or the maniac grins of clowns haunted him in his sleep, but he has never once caved into the phobia of darkness.

Its a strange thing, to be able to control your own imagination. But Sunghoon was able to master the impossible.

He has always thought he was special in that way.

At least, that's what he used to think.

Instead of the warm feelings of security he was feeling moments ago, it vanished into a sinister frost.

Cold breaths panted down his neck, kissing his tender skin with ice cold air. Shards of glaze stabbed his torso, beads of sweat oozing out of the wounds. The silence engulfing the room was eerie; the tension in the air pressing on his chest as if preventing him from breathing.

Quiet, it was too quiet.

Sunghoon quickly cocked his head to his right, and he swore he heard whispers crooning into his ears seductively.

What the hell is going on?

"Hey, who the hell turned off the lights?" A loud, but shaky voice demanded. It was coming from the corner of the room, but Sunghoon couldn't make out who said it.

The voice seemed almost...unfamiliar.

"This isn't some fucking joke." The same voice roared, louder and more aggressively this time.

Sunghoon’s head was spinning, arms and legs wobbling like they had no strength left in them. His stomach was bubbling up and he resisted the urge to hunch over and retch.

It may have lasted only a couple seconds, but for him, it felt like hours.

"It wasn't me, I swear Heeseung." To the blonde's relief, a familiar voice answered the former male.

That was Heeseung? It didn't sound like him at all.

"Well it was fucking one of you." Someone else growled, sounding obviously annoyed but stumbled on his words as he spoke.

They were all scared.

"I swear to god, once I get my gun back I'm killing you all." The same person warned.

"Jaehyun, shut the fuck up; you're not making this any better."

Jaehyun? That was definitely not Jaehyun’s voice.

Sunghoon would know, he spent hours watching him talk to himself in his cell.

After that, the eerie silence poured into the room again. Palms sweaty, he dried them on his uniform pants, cringing at his fingers sticking together from the friction. He doesn't remember the last time he had ever sweat that hard before.

"Guys, it's alright." A new voice, one Sunghoon had never heard before, tauntingly chuckled.

Footsteps approached him, the whispers in his ear getting noisier by each thud.

Thump, thump.

A shoulder shoved into his, but it felt like a bar of metal. Sunghoon felt like his bones broke at the small gesture, so minimal but so strong.

Who was this guy?

Sunghoon’s always been the strongest, the bravest, and was always there for other people. So when he clutched his shoulder in pain, he hung his face in shame at how quickly someone else put him in his place.

Thump, thump.

It felt like it was just him, alone, in that room. A blindfold tightened around his eyes and dumped into the river styx. He was drowning, sinking into that sea of darkness, with the sharks of sins surrounding him. There was no light, no hope, no escape.

They were eating away at his limbs, but his bright crimson blood could not be seen in that pool of ebony. No one was there to help him out, no one was ever there.

Sunghoon was all alone in the dark, and this time he was scared.

His chest heaved up and down and he choked on greedy breaths, swallowing them as his head sunk deeper into the water. A monotone sound rung in his ears, and he felt as if he was about to die.

Maybe he was dying, his body and brain too numb to feel anything.

All of a sudden, it went quiet. The gurgling of water from Sunghoon’s throat dispersed, and the vicious sharks vanished. He wasn't in water anymore, and felt the dirt floor underneath his feet. There was no sound, just a ringing in his ears.

The thumping of feet finally ceased.

A gunshot echoed around the room, and just like that, the lights flickered back on.

————————

THE OFFICIAL CAST FOR FLICKER:

SIM JAEHYUN AS HIMSELF

— "Blood is such a ravishingly dark painting"

A Serial Killer duo with Heeseung, who always has time for some rebellious fun. He acts recklessly, without a care in the world for the consequences. However, his life of motorcycles and smoking came to a halting crash when he got arrested by the devil himself.

LEE HEESEUNG AS HIMSELF

— "Monster? I'm just ahead of the curve."

Heeseung has been a special case since he was a child, killing innocent animals and such for entertainment. He had never been taught how to love, or express feelings, so he feels no remorse for any of his actions. Will he wire the rest of the crew into his trap like he did to Jake? If he even have enough time to, that is. After all, karma has her own schedule.

YOU AS Y/N

— "Change is inevitable, not always favored."

Mischievous and stubborn, the two words that were basically created for you. Captains of Police Forces are usually intimidating, but your crew would always tease you for acting tough. What would happen if this normal, childlike coffee lover faced a horrifying inter-dimensional creature?

PARK SUNGHOON AS HIMSELF

— "Class first, class second, safety third."

Not exactly the brightest kid in the department, but is the most strategic when it comes to his job. His only priorities consist of ice-skating and fashion, which can be bad sometimes when you wear Doc Martins to a bloody crime scene. He's dreamed of being a Police Officer ever since he's been out the womb, but he would’ve never expected it to be as dark as this.

PARK JAY AS HIMSELF

— "You little shits better solve this before I start growing grey hair"

The Hard-Headed Deputy Chief of Police Force had quite the temper whenever on the job, and his colleagues would describe him as very straightforward + down-to-earth person. Once he stumbled upon an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, however, his whole life was deemed a lie.

YANG JUNGWON AS HIMSELF

— “God, I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

The top dog of the Seoul Police force, who also had a conceited heart of stone. He doesn't believe in the supernatural wishwash, with ghosts and demons & devils; thinks it's all a bunch of baloney. (Maybe that's why he gets along with Jay so well.) How will he feel once he finds out there's one after him?

KIM SUNOO AS HIMSELF

— "Icarus got nothing on me."

A lovesick twenty-one year old, with such a face, the sun itself gets envious. A chill, laid back guy that would always have your back no matter what. His only problem was, he fell in love/trusted people too quickly— which could ultimately lead to his demise. I mean, can anyone even penetrate what was about to unfold?

NISHIMURA RIKI AS HIMSELF

— “Last one to hell is a rotten egg!”

A young and aspiring intern that hopes to one day serve his people faces the harsh reality of what the universe could throw at him. He’s basically the department’s certified little brother, and his wide toothed smile could make just about anyone crumble. Can his bright and enamoring personality save him and his crew though?

————————

"knawing at the essence of reality, save it in my grasp, will you?"

VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

#enhastars #enhypen #enhastars flicker #enhypen jay #nishimura niki #jungwon #nishimura riki #sunghoon #sunoo #enhypen jake #paranormal #horror #enha

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