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girl8890 · 2 years

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JK | Cabin in The Woods

word count: 6.7k

Summary: Everyone knows to stay out of the forest, but through a dare you ventured in… you just never came out. Meeting a wolf that says he needs you to survive, and you have no one else to give your love to but the animal that uses you every night.

Pairing: Werewolf!Jungkook x Human!Reader

Genre: yandere, supernatural!au, horror!au, smut, angst, some fluff (if you squint)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: bullying, disfiguration of body parts, breaking of bone, mate bonding, possessiveness, implied murder, blood, eating of people & living animals, implied/attempt at rape/non-con, vaginal sex, cream pie, cock warming, pussy sniffing & kissing, jk is horny for reader 99% of the time, kinda stockholm syndrome-ish, easily manipulated reader, dom!jk, sub!reader, lonely!reader

A/N: The best way I can explain this fic is that jk has actual wolf tendencies. He’s more wolf than man, so you’ll find that he relates more to a wolf in this fic than to his human half. I had a dream about this, probably should see a therapist, but here we’re instead! I hope you enjoy, my yandere lovers! 😌

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You don’t know why you agreed to the dare. It was stupid to even think nothing would happen to you.

All you wanted was to make some friends, so when some people in your hometown asked you to come to their party, you were all for it. When you got to said party, it wasn’t what you were expecting. Everyone’s eyes were on you, and the peer pressure was to the max. Somehow a game of truth of dare started, and now your here—alone in the woods because you were one of the few daring people at that party.

You weren’t daring, though, and the dare wasn’t random. It was pointed at you by a couple of college kids that wanted to pick on the loner girl. You realized this after the hour in the haunted forest definitely went by, and no one came to save you.

North became south, and west became east. Any direction you pointed yourself in, you would find yourself trailing deeper and deeper into the woods where too many tourists and even a few locals never came out of.

You swore the forest was even playing tricks on you. Swearing that each tree looked the same, and the fog got thicker with each step you took. You didn’t stop your hurried walking, to try and get out of the forest as quickly as possible, until you heard a snap of a twig from behind you. Slowly turning your head, something you never thought in your twenty-two years of life you would ever see was standing right above you on a rock.

It was a wolf.

Not just any wolf. A snarling, big, yellow eyed, and black furred scary looking wolf that still had animal carcass from an earlier dinner hanging out of its mouth. And you had a feeling it wanted you for desert. You, for some reason, thought if you stayed still that it wouldn’t see you. Like all the movies about predators not being able to see their prey if it stayed still. Well, you very quickly realized this is not Jurassic Park and the wolf lunged at you.

You screamed, sliding somehow just out of the way from the wolfs attack, and then booked it. Running as fast as you can, and screaming as loud as you can. You claimed this day to be the worst one of your life because even as you ran like hell, the wolf still followed closely behind. Four big paws hitting the ground way faster then your two feet were.

You think you may have run a mile that day just trying to get away from the wolf. When you finally decided to look back and see the beast, you were finally able to skid to a stop when you see it’s not behind you. You breathe out a sigh of relief… but that relief didn’t last long.

Just as you turn back around, the same beast as before springs out of the shadows and tackles you to the ground. The beast hunted you. It made you think it left and had you let your guard down. Stupid mistake because now your done for.

The beast growled in your face, and pinned your entire body to the ground. It’s sharp, huge teeth dripping with drool right on your face. This was it. This was going to be the end of your life, and you were going to be apart of the many that ventured into this forest and never came out.

Tears streamed down your face, and because you felt desperate you even begged the wild animal. “Please… I-I’m not ready to die.”

In that moment, you thought you even heard the wolf laugh. A heavy chuckle coming from its snot. But in that moment, when the beast was laughing at your pathetic pleads, it sniffed the air around you and then it’s pupils dilated. The wolf inhaled again, this time pressing its snout right against your neck, and making you shake with fear when you thought it was going to bite you.

There was a moment of silence, the wolf keeping its nose against your neck, and then it retracted it’s snout away from you. Everything happened so fast after that…

The sound of bone crunching was the first thing you heard, but it wasn’t your own. The creature above you backed away a messily bit, and it was only because the head of it was melting away. It’s then you realize it’s body was transforming into something you’ve never seen before. Body parts coming out of its skin, and constant sounds of broken bones snapping as each piece of the wolfs limbs melted away into one of… something else.

When the first limb that was being created out of the wolf became whole, you realize it was one of a persons. A man’s hand attached to a whole arm as each piece of him clicked together. It was a gruesome and slow process to watch. One that would of had you gagging if you weren’t so focused on the once wolf turning into a man.

When each bone finally clicked in place, a man that would of had you swooning by his looks alone any other day was kneeling above you. His hair was close to hitting his shoulders, and to the opposite of what you would expect from a creature like him, his skin was smooth to the touch except a singular small mole under his lip. His lips were pink, chapped, but plump and they were above a jaw line that most women would compliment as being sculpted from the gods.

It’s then, as more silence stretches on and you’re now staring into two brown eyes that were once yellow, that you put the pieces together of what creature us standing before you. Of what creature—this very muscular, and very naked, creature of a man has been doing in these woods too. Making countless people disappear, and having too many people afraid to even step foot into these wood because of it. Because of him.

“Werewolf,” You say at the same time the beast above you says, “Mate.”

And that was the day your life changed forever.

———

Nobody missed you. Nobody went out searching for you. You assumed everyone at the party thought you died, so that was the end of loner girl y/n. Probably didn’t even have a memorial like all the other forest disappearances.

You had no parents to worry about you. Your mom died over a year ago from complications, and eventually your father died soon after from a broken heart. No siblings or other close relatives to wonder about you, so you were stuck. Stuck in the woods with the only person—being, wolf, whatever—that actually showed he… cared?

You’ve be in a small cabin in the woods with him for three months now. It was a cabin that if an people passed by—not that they would venture in to the woods or get that close to begin with—wouldn’t think twice about it being abandoned and nothing worth exploring. But on the inside was everything a girl like you needed.

A somehow working bathroom, a small kitchen right in front of the door, and a queen sized bed (that’s more of a mattress on top of a old bed holder) that was pushed into the corner of the small cabin. With a blanket and two pillows on top of it. One pillow that ironically had a picture of a wolf sewed into the fabric of the pillow case. Everything a girl like you needed to survive was in this small space.

And everything the werwolf needed, Jungkook you found out his name was the day you met him, was you and what was in the last door of the cabin. The door that opened up to a set of steep stairs, and held nothing but a steal cage in the middle. That’s where he held you the first week you stayed here. Trapped and forced to endorse his ritual of claiming you as his. Teaching you how to be the perfect little submissive human to his dominate wolf.

He never took you as a an actual wolf luckily, but he did take you that first meeting in the woods. On the ground, with your clothes ripped apart, and you crying and screaming for him to stop. It wasn’t until he bit into your neck, forever claiming you as his mate, that it felt like your whole world shifted.

Suddenly it was like you could do nothing but submit to him. You still had resolve, though. And that’s why he kept you in the cage for so long. A week may not seem like much, but it did for you. Especially when he—allegedly—left you down there at night. He didn’t let you out until you promised never to leave, and after three months you’re still here.

You’re currently washing a dish in the small sink in the kitchen. You just ate lunch of what you assumed was rabbit, Jungkook being the one to hunt for yours and his food, and once your done with cleaning it you put it on a towel to dry. You look up from the sink at the same time Jungkook as a wolf came into view of the small window in the kitchen above the sink. You can see he’s holding in his mouth what looks to be a deer, and you grimace as you think about how he killed it.

You open the cabins front door when he gets close enough to the house, and move off to the side so the big wolf can squeeze himself into the house. Shutting the door behind him, he came in into the kitchen area and dropped the dead deer on the floor. You crotch onto the floor in front of what you presume to be dinner, and you aren’t scared of the wolf’s fangs as he continues to heave out breathes next to you.

You haven’t been scared of his wolf for a long time.

“Poor Bambi,” You say as you pet the deers snout. Earning a growl from Jungkook as you touch the dead deer so tenderly, and then he pushes his own snout in between your hand and the deer so you can then pet him. “Stupid wolf.”

You smile as the wolf laughs. A husky chuckle of a noise you remember used to confuse you when you heard it, but now you know it as him laughing in wolf form.

He then backs away from your hand after a few scratches, and you look away as he begins to transform into the man you were forced to love. The only person you love.

The sound of broken bone came from your right, but it wasn’t until you feel a human nose against you cheek that you turn to see a hairless faced Jungkook. His hair is still a bit long, but you convinced him to cut it a little shorter and even chop a part of it completely off. Making it look like he had a buzzed portion of a quarter of his hair. He’s currently naked, but you ignore that fact. Being very used to his naked form by now.

“Hello stupid wolf,” You say in greeting with a small smile, and you watch his own smile twitch up for a second. He then pushes his face forward, and you let your eyes drift shut when you know he’s about to take in your smell. Something he always does when going into human form and being in front of you.

He first presses his nose back onto your cheek, it wiggling a little as it touches you. Then he moves his nose to your own, and glides it next over your two eyes. Sniffing and inhaling every few seconds. It isn’t until he goes to your lips that you allow your eyes to open half-lidded.

Jungkook’s eyes are shut, but he senses you staring at him so he opens his own eyes. Two pools of brown looking back at you as he slowly presses his lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and you know his eyes are still open. It’s a small, barely any pressure type of kiss and you always think he’s doing it more for you then for him. He knows he doesn’t need to kiss you to earn your love, to own you, but he kisses you anyway.

After a moment of the soft pressure of his kiss to you, he detaches from your lips. You flutter your eyes open, and you hear a quiet growl rumble from his chest. Making your eyes flicker down to where you believe it sounded from.

“Hello… Y/n,” Jungkook says with a broken up voice. You think he’s never talked in his human form until he met you. At least not for a long time, so hearing his voice now is a rarity but you can’t help yourself and smile at him as he practices speaking.

“Yes, I’m y/n.” You press your hand to your chest. “And your Jungkook.” And then you press that same hand onto Jungkook’s naked chest right above his slowly beating heart.

You watch the corner of his lips twitch up again into a small smile, and you wonder what it would look like for him to actually smile. With teeth and all.

“Yes,” Jungkook says simply as he nods at you. He then takes his face away from so close to you, and aims his sights on the bite mark he left on you during the first day you met. You softly gasp when you feel his finger touch the surface of your neck. Gliding his fingers around the jagged teeth marks that will never go away. He then says with a mouth full of clenched sharp teeth, “Mine.”

And you’re his. He’s drilled it enough into your mind and body that you’re his. That he needs you to survive because a wolf without his mate is futile. Just like how your father died without your mother, Jungkook would die without you.

He may have brought up the situation in parts, and started this relationship in a terrible way, but he’s been alone and stuck in his wolf for a very long time. He didn’t know what “no” meant, and everything humans learned about consent and taking things slow into a relationship was nonexistent to him. So, he did what he does best when he wants something, he took it. Took you right there on the forest floor, and came deep inside you as he bit against your neck hard. Claiming you to him and his wolf forever.

Jungkook then slowly departs his finger from your neck, and wraps his arms around your arms and back. Your arms are sandwiched in between the two of you, and you’ve come to learn he likes to hold you this way. Having you safely protected in his arms, and he can easily bring his whole body on top of you so he can scent all of you at once. You pull your legs to your chest, knowing he’s going to scoop them up after he’s done sniffing your hair.

With one last whiff of your hair, he rubs his nose on top of your head. He then, just like you thought, scoops your legs up with one arm and supports your back with the other. Picking you up bridal style, and looking down at you as he caries you to the bed.

Your cradled and squished against him the whole ten steps there, but the whole way feels so safe. You would think a wolf like him that has such animal tendencies would be the worst place for you to be, but overtime you recognized it as the safest place for you. No one could touch you as long as your with him.

But that just means the big bad wolf would always have the ability to touch you.

———

Some time later, when your clothes are stripped off of you and your stomach is being pressed against the mattress, Jungkook drives his cock roughly into you from behind. It’s a rough, hard, and rocky affair every night. That’s right, every night.

The only times he doesn’t take you is when you’re on your period, and that’s because he hates the smell of blood on you. Keeping his distance and staying in wolf form the whole week, so he doesn’t temp himself in his human form.

Your hands are holding onto the front of the mattress in a tight grip, and his hands are clamped on top of yours as he continues to drive into you on repeat. Your moaning so loud it sounds like a scream, and each time you feel his hips press against you to go as deep inside you as possible you arch your back as a quivering sensation goes off in your stomach. Indicating you’re going to cum for the first time that night soon.

Jungkook grunts above you in a animistic way when he feels your pussy clench around his length. Making the teeth of his wolf elongate when his peek gets closer. His cock continues to drill into you at a fast pace as he brings his mouth down onto your neck. He doesn’t bite you, but he does apply a soft pressure of his teeth onto the bite mark he left there three months ago.

He doesn’t need to bite because he knows you know he already owns you. He owns your body, and he knows it so well by now that he doesn’t need to repeat the hurtful mark again. Just laying the sharp teeth across the ridges is enough of a reminder to what you are to him.

With a few more thrusts, banging his hips against your ass, your cumming along side him as he groans into your neck and you moan into the mattress. You lay there, heavy breathing going off from the both of you as your highs decrease. Jungkook takes his teeth off of you and then licks the surface of your neck. A little blood trickling down it since his orgasm was so harsh he bit down on you a little.

When he’s done cleaning your neck, whimpering a little to say sorry for making you bleed, he flips you over without pulling out of you and starts up his thrusts again. Caging your head and arms underneath him, with his arms holding himself above you next to your head. It’s like he didn’t just cum and reck your whole head space as he begins fucking you again. You expected this, though. It’s never just one round, not even two!

He continues to fuck you over and over again, placing you in new positions that keep you surrounded by his body after each time he cums deep within your clenching walls. Not a single time he’ll speak, either. Only you moaning and crying out your pleasure can be heard aside from his occasional grunt as he finishes inside of you. But the faces he makes are enough to have your mind going dirty besides doing the act itself.

When you get a chance to see his face, it’s so sexy it makes you clench around him. His mouth will be wide open in bliss, and his eyes squeezed shut. It looks like he can’t take how good you feel, but he still chases the feeling every time. Wanting to make you cum just as much as he wants to cum.

He fucks you so many times that it gets to the point tonight that you lost count of how many times you’ve orgasmed, and as he was placing you sideways to thrust into you again you felt yourself drift into unconsciousness.

———

Waking up was a start. The sun was blaring from outside the window, and you blink your eyes open to see it. Your body wasn’t sore since it’s gotten used to how rough he is on you over the months you’ve been here, and you look down to see his arms wrapped around your naked middle. You bite your bottom lip, trying to figure out a way you could get out of his hold without waking the softly snoring Jungkook behind you.

As you wiggle in his grasp, staring to remove yourself from him gently, you realize there was no way to get up without him noticing. And that was because he’s still inside you. Still hard too, which was unexpected. You turn slightly around to see the handsome wolfs face, looking innocent as ever as he sleeps.

Softly, you reach out and cup his cheek with your hand. Trying to coax him awake with a few rubs of your palm. Instead of waking up, though, he rubs his face into your hand like a puppy. Wanting you to continue what you’re doing even as he sleeps. You hold back your laughter as Jungkook begs for your rubs, but you drop your hand altogether.

Instead of waking up from the lack of rubs, his face starts trying to find where the amazing sensation went. It isn’t until his nose gets buried in your hair, him sniffing up a big whiff of your small and gripping you a little tighter in his grasp, that he blinks his eyes open.

He pulls his face out of your hair, looking down at you like he didn’t realize it was for a second, but then the corners of his mouth are switching up when he sees it’s you he’s holding.

“Goodmorning,” You whisper to him with a smile. He hums his own version of saying good morning, then he wraps his other arm around your middle and pulls you flush again him.

You cry out when his cock that’s still inside you impalas you deeper, and then he letting go you altogether when he hears your cry. He must of not noticed he was inside you until now, gently taking his slowly softening cock out of you, and he looks at you frantic when he thinks he hurt you. Hovering his hands above your arms and looking strained as he tries to push out the word, “Hurt?”

You swallow, pulling yourself together as the rough pain to your dry pussy lessens, and you shake your head and smile again at him. “Nope, just surprised me.”

He looks at you unconvinced, and because he doesn’t know what boundaries mean, he pulls your legs apart and inspects you himself.

“Jungkook!” You scream as you try to cover your core from him. He’s scene it plenty of times, but besides to aim his cock at you he’s never directly looked at it before. He still pulls your hands away from you, pinning them against your one leg as he pulls your legs wide apart. Your beat red in the face and chest now as he just stares at your core so closely. “S-stop it.”

He looks up at you, and his eyes say more then any words can. Matching with his pointed frown, his big doe eyes look up at you saddened. Even though he’s been rough with you many times in the past, using you every night for his own pleasure even if he coaxes your own in the process, he hates the thought of you hurt. That’s also why he hates you bleeding because blood means hurting, and hurting means pain, which should never involve itself with his mate.

Looking back down at you pussy, he slowly places a singular kiss onto your slit. You clench your eyes shut at the press of his lips on you. And then your full on grunting when you feel and hear him smell your pussy up close. You know it’s just him saying “I’m sorry I hurt you,” since you taught him kisses could help when someone is hurt, and the smelling is so he can check that you’re not bleeding. But out of all things, your pussy should not be getting kissed and smelt this way!

After a few more embarrassed wiggles from you, Jungkook finally clears that you’re okay and lets you go. You pout at the wolf that looks confused at why you’re upset, and you roll out of bed. As you start getting changed, you hear the cracking of bone behind you. Within seconds Jungkook is back in his wolf form, and pressing his snout against your clothed back.

You sigh, turning around and looking down at the wolf who’s staring up at you so apologetically, and you roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah you stupid wolf.”

You pet him in between the ears, now seeing a smile on the wolfs face and you return a human smile of your own. One with a lot less drool. Then you head for the door, stopping when you realize the deer from last night is still on the ground from last night and look an accusing eye at the beast who brought it here. Jungkook crocks his wolf head at you, not understanding the look you’re sending him.

“Did you really just leave that thing on the floor?” He looks to where you’re pointing, and his ears perk up. Walking up to the fly swarming carcass, instead of throwing it away or putting it in the fridge, he starts to eat it whole.

You grimace as you watch him a second too long, never getting use to seeing that happen in front of you, and then you head out the cabin to start your day.

Your day usually consists of tending to the small garden behind the cabin. It’s nothing incredible, but enough that you won’t be eating dead deer or rabbit everyday. A few tomatoes and cucumbers that you were able to syphon from plants near by, and TaDa! Your own personal garden.

Besides this garden, you don’t usually stray too far from the cabin. For one, even though the monster that haunts these woods lives with you, you’re too scared to find out what else could be found lurking in these woods. And two, anytime you accidentally travel too far from it, weather it be just to walk around or to try and find more seeds to grow, a huffing wolf named Jungkook will come and coax you back to the cabin. There’s been times he’s legit dragged you by your shirt to get home, but that’s just because you were so close to finding new seeds and you didn’t want to leave yet.

You know it’s all out of protection—and maybe still out of fear that you may leave him—but he likes having you close by enough to smell you. His wolf nose being able to track anything from a mile away, so that’s how far around the cabin you’re allowed to go before he loses scent of you. Stopping your wondering just before your scent crosses over that mile mark.

Today, after you put the veggies inside the fridge, you take one of the books that Jungkook “found” for you and go walking into the woods to find a place for you to sit. Just before you cross the tree line, you see on the opposite side of the clearing you’re in that Jungkook is walking into the woods too. Probably to go on a hunt or scoot the area even.

You walk for about a minute into the woods before you find a rock and a tree you can sit, and lean against. Opening up your book, you frown when see the small pool of blood on the title page. You try to ignore how it most likely got there, and keep flipping pages until you find the first page.

It’s just when you get to chapter two, that you hear a twig snap close by. You grin at the knowledge that it’s most likely Jungkook, and call out, “Come to read with me, stupid wolf?”

“No, but I would definitely like to do more then just read with you.”

You gasp, jumping up from your spot and dropping your book on the ground in the process when you hear a human voice that’s most definitely not Jungkook’s. It’s a man with long brown hair, a beard thats unkept, and one of his eyes looks screwed shut from loss of sight.

Your body starts shaking immediately. Since you’ve got here, you haven’t seen a single human. You always thought no humans were stupid enough to wonder into these woods—unlike you, but you were lucky enough to be the monsters mate and not die. You know not a single person is going to be that lucky if they come across a hungry Jungkook. Or just him in general!

“I-I, what are you doing here?”

The man raises a fluffy eyebrow at you, and you continue to stare at him wide eyed. “I just thought I would wonder these woods that so many claims is haunted. I just didn’t think I would find myself such a sexy specimen like yourself in here too.”

You swallow thickly at his sultry words, backing up from him as he starts to move forward. “Tell me, girly. Why are you out here all by yourself?”

“I-I’m with my boyfriend.” Your referring to Jungkook, but if this man some how got past him there’s no way he can save you if this man tries something. You watched Jungkook go the opposite way of you, so you have no idea how long it would take for him to rescue you even if you scream.

The man looks both ways, stopping in his tracks with you. “Don’t see no boyfriend.” The closed lip smile on the man’s face disappears. “But I am hungry.”

You open your eyes wide, and clutch onto the skirt of your dress. You look all around the area your in, thinking up the best route to get away from this man. “I-I don’t have any food. So you should p-probably go looking somewhere else.”

The man laughs, showing his blackened teeth as he does, and then he looks at you with a pair of disgusting eyes that only mean one thing. “Oh, darling… that’s not what I’m hungry for.”

Right when his words register to you, you run as fast as you can in the direction of the cabin. Your not far from it, and you can only hope that maybe Jungkook stopped his travels early and came home. You hear heavy footsteps behind you, and you’re suddenly aware of what this chase of cat and mouse reminds you of. The difference between that day with Jungkook and you and right now is that you thought Jungnkook was going to eat you. While the disgusting and vile man behind you doesn’t want to actually eat you, but taint and ruin your body. Ruin your soul, even.

You push forward as you spot the clearing up ahead. Dodging tree branch’s and jumping over rocks. Just when you’re about to step foot into the clearing of the cabin, a heavy body pins you to the ground. You cry out as the man that was chasing yous heavy weight falls on top of you. Screaming once again when you feel a hard erection press against your ass through his jeans.

He’s not as big as Jungkook—not that that was your main concern—but just knowing it’s there and not Jungkook’s has you starting to cry already.

“Oh, shut the fuck up you whore!” The man above you yells. Maneuvering himself so he can pin your arms against your back with his knee, and you hear the start of him unbuckling his pants and belt.

You think your done for. That you’re about to be ruined beyond repair from the man above you, and never want to face Jungkook again. Even though Jungkook did the same to you once all those months ago, there was still pleasure for you being brought to the table. It wasn’t selfish, but a need for him to mate you. This man, on the other hand, won’t give a shit if you like it and wants to use you because your just there. Not because he loves you, or wants to hold you in his arms forever. Keeping you safe and making sure you’re never in pain.

This man wants to bring you pain, and you shut your eyes and cry out one last time before you think you’re about to be ruined forever. “Jungkook, help me!”

It happens so fast after that… but not what your thinking.

One second the man is pushing up your dress to reveal yourself to him, and the next he’s being ripped off of you. It doesn’t register to you that you’re no longer being pinned to the ground until you start to hear screaming, growling, and the sound of bones breaking. Breathing heavily against the ground, you stay completely still until the screams stop out of no where and the smell of blood is in the air.

You blink back your tears that are still falling, and on shaking arms you push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Before you could be brave enough to stand up entirely, a hand is being pressed into your back. You jump away from the hand and turn around to see a bloodied face Jungkook crouching in front of you.

Although your eyes are being blurred with tears, you can see his extremely upset face as he takes in your form. You don’t waste any time. You leap into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. He makes a ‘Uph’ sound and stubbles back, but he catches you nonetheless. He’s always there to catch you.

Jungkook buries his face into your neck to smell you, while your face is against his neck to cry into. He growls against your neck when his nose processes the now dead’s man smell on you. You let him scent mark you, and the whole times he’s keeping you strapped to him. Not letting go of you for a single second.

By the time he’s down scenting you, and your crying has simmered down a little, you pull your face out of his neck to face him. The same deep frown and saddened eyes look at you, and you know it’s because of what almost transpired a few moments ago.

He swallows, pushing out a, “Hurt…?” You open your mouth to say no, because even though it scared you the man didn’t hurt you exactly. But then Jungkook is pushing out more words, “Try. To… Hurt. You?”

Your lip wobbles, and you can’t speak. Feeling your chest crumble from knowing the answer to his question is not positive, and instead of you speaking you nod your head since it’s too hard to speak right now.

Jungkook’s upset frown turns into an expression you haven’t seen yet on him. You know what he looks when he’s happy (flick up of the corners of his mouth), and when he’s sad (deep frown and drooping eyes), but this is different… this Jungkook is angry.

His sharp wolf teeth extend from his gums, and the corners of his eyes wrinkle and twitch as he thinks about what that man would have done to you. If it wasn’t for Jungkook being back on his way to the cabin at that second, it would have been too late. The man’s smell didn’t even register to him when Jungkook did an air check to smell where you were. All he smelt was something dirty, and he registered that as the part of the woods you were in smelling weird.

Never again. Never again will he ignore weird smells around you, or think your alright even if something seems off. He’ll drop everything for you. Even if he really wants to go claw some more at the dead man’s body right now, he picks you up as you’re now, wrapped around his body, and starts carrying you in the direction of the cabin.

You keep your face against Jungkook’s shoulder the entire time. Not letting go even after he puts you on the bed. You don’t remember how you got here, or even him closing the door behind you, but once your in bed and safe you still don’t let him go of him. And Jungkook is okay with that.

He puts you against the wall, making sure your caged in between his body and the wall so nothing can harm you. Even if someone were to look inside the cabin right now, all they would see is Jungkook’s naked back and ass.

Trying to be a good mate, he hums what sounds like a lullaby as he runs his sharps nails up and down your clothed back. When you finally begin to relax, calmly pulling your arms off of him so they can be sandwiched in between the two of you, you whisper a quiet, “Thank you.”

Jungkook stops humming, and stops rubbing your back. Looking down at your shameful looking face with wide eyes.

“Why?” He asks.

“Why, thank you?” He nods his head pointedly. “For saving me.”

Jungkook won’t take that. He won’t take a thank you for this. Your his mate, and he wasn’t there to protect you. He doesn’t deserve your thank yous or even you at this point. Pulling your face out of his chest with his two hands, he stares into your eyes as he tries to communicate how he feels. “No. No, thank yous. Don’t… Deserve… Thank yous. Or… You.”

Now it’s your turn to look at him wide eyed. You grab onto his hands on your face and shake your head. “What are you talking about? Yes, you do. You deserve me because I’m your mate.”

Jungkook’s shakes his head. “Not enough.”

Your lips part, and you see the sadness in Jungkook’s eyes as his hands fall off your face. This is the first time he said something without breaking the words apart, and out of all things it was him saying he’s not enough for you. Well now, your not going to take that.

You grab onto his face, making him face you and feel a little pleased with yourself when you see a surprised look on his face. You pull his face forward and smash your lips against his. He’s surprised, at first, but then he’s groaning into your mouth and wrapping his arms around your middle again. You moan when you feel his length begin to grow against your thigh, moving it slightly to allow him some friction. He growls when you do that, and you detach your lips from his as you look at him determined to make him understand just how you feel about what he just said.

“You do deserve me, Jungkook. You deserve me because I’m your mate, and you’re mine. And I-… I love you so stop being stupid and just claim what’s yours already!”

Jungkook blinks, registers your words a couple times in his head, and repeats, “Mate?”

You roll your eyes and say, “Yes!”

“Love. Me?”

You swallow, taking a moment of hesitation but then replying again, “Yes.”

Then that’s all Jungkook needs to be convinced. He smashes his lips against yours the same way you did, and you’re moaning up a storm by the time he rolls you underneath him. You take your clothing off as fast as your arms can do it, and then Jungkook is thrusting into you the second your pussy is presented to him.

Both of you making noises of pleasure as he enters you, stretching and rubbing at your walls just the way you like it as he roughly pounds against your core. As always, Jungkook fucks you rough and hard, but right now you need it. You need it just as much as him, and when you both cum at the same time, you’re scratching at his back to go another round… and another… and another.

As always, you lose count of how many rounds you both did, but this time you’re both out of breathe by the time you both decide to stop. His cum is leaking from you because you’re so filled to the brim with his seed, and you revel in it. Feeling his cum drip on your leg, and feeling his soft lips peeper kiss your face as he sandwiches your body against his and the wall again.

You love it all! But most importantly, you love your mate.

And he loves you more than you could ever comprehend.

The End

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esther-dot · 5 months

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[I posted a list of SEASON 6 AUS before but these are book verse]

the cold inside our bones 2k @xylodemon (just have to point out that this was posted in 2012)

The Wall is no place for a woman, but Jon looks at Sansa's gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes and knows he will not send her away.

we're a different kind of same 3k by @jonsaslove

"I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will” Or; Sansa flees the Vale. Jon retakes Winterfell. When they meet again, they are changed.

Varg-hamr/Wolf-skin 1k by @cappymightwrite

hamr: the ‘shell’ or ‘shape’ of a person — the physical body, a state that can alter. hugr: what a person really is — the absolute essence, that which can leave the hamr behind. (Or, Jon in the body of Ghost, coming across a girl in grey fleeing north, along the east side of Long Lake...)

Pearls of Water ficlet by fedonciadale

Someone wakes up in Castle Black.

Saw You In The Snow 1k by @theemberalchemist

Sansa used the last of her strength to crawl to the foot of the tree, placing her head on its roots like she would lay on her mother's lap lifetimes ago. She could die here, perhaps, in the halo and ghost of her mother's warmth. Her mind drifting to gentle hands pressing against her head, tucking her hair back, humming a sweet song Sansa knew all the words to.

tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme 1k by @hoaryoldbitch

Satin averts his eyes and all around her bodies shift and uncomfortable looks are exchanged. Something akin to fear grips her and automatically she reaches out. Ghost is right there beside her. She wraps her arms around him and buries her fingers in his fur, kissing the top of his head. A buzzing of whispers and hisses arises around her, but one man bursts into a loud and booming laugh. He's tall and burly with reddish hair and a rusty beard. "Is this the beast you've all been afraid of? The pretty little lady tamed the ferocious wolf with a touch of her hand," he snorts, before walking toward Sansa in long strides. Brienne tenses up beside her. "I'll take ye to Lord Snow, lass."

In the darkest night, a song so sweet 2k

The Lord Commander stood atop the Wall and watched as the girl in grey came riding north, her army at her back.

old timber to new fires 27k by @setnet

When Alayne Stone hears word of the marriage of Arya Stark to the Bastard of the Dreadfort, it prompts her to leave the dubious safety of the Vale and set out on a dangerous journey north to Sansa Stark's homeland and her last remaining relative. But home is not safe. Winterfell is burned and broken, the Baratheon King and the Northern Lords are fighting to influence the future of the realm, the dead are stirring... and the old gods of the North are not half gods, worshipped in wine and flowers; they require blood.

And From the Ruins 15k by @thewolvescalledmehome

After awaking, Jon Snow's sole focus is trying to get his sister back. Alayne Stone is trying to survive the Vale. After an accident, she's forced to flee.

Stay With Me 5k

As her eyes shut, probably forever, Sansa Stark thought of one last thing: Jon. Then everything went pitch black.

now we're dead roses 22k

From Ghost’s eyes, he saw a lone, grey horse racing south. On the back of the courser mounted a girl. He could hear her breaths come out in little hitches and gasps as she grasped with all her might to the reins. Ghost chased after her, sprinting fast and nimble on his feet. She was a delicate little thing. Like a breeze could throw her off the horse. Her back shook as she stifled her sobs. Ghost followed on the horse’s rear, eyes sharp on the hooded figure. She must have sensed him behind her because she turned around and suddenly-- Jon woke up with an impossible name on his tongue.

a wind with a wolf's head 13k, WIP by @branwendaughterofllyr

The cold numbed everything. From her nose, to her fingers, to the breath in her lungs, the cold froze and stiffened. Sansa shoved her cloak up around her face and tucked her free hand under her arm. The grey cloth billowed and faded into the darkening twilight as the wind tore at her. Somewhere, a wolf howled, but Sansa was not sure if it was in her mind or not. A ghost wolf, she told herself and pressed on.

Art: The Girl in Grey and Jon's Resurrection by @palominojacoby, The Girl in Grey by @jonsawilldanceanon, The Girl in Grey by @thetullystark , The Girl in Grey by @ozzy698 , The Girl in Grey by @cute-poison20102014, Jonsa Reunion by knightmarescape, Forehead Kiss by colleendoodle, Jonsa Hug by CristianaLeone, Forehead Kiss by rosenroot

PRE CANON - WESTERN - REGENCY - FAIRYTALE - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - SEASON 6 - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES - FREE CITIES - FAIRYTALE PART II - POLITICAL MARRIAGE - SALTY TEENS

#jonsa #jonsa fic #book verse #the girl in grey #dot fic list #I didn’t include Jon/Alayne fics on here because I hope to eventually make a separate list for those

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pr4ktical · 11 months

Text

Don't Move.

Your callsign is "Echo." Your fathers name is "Cade Brooks." König is apart of Task Force 141. Your middle and last name is “Lyla Brooks.” There was apart of me writing this where I was listening to fine line so I wrote angst (SORRY)

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader WARNINGS: angst, smut, blood and violence, p in v sex, oral SUMMARY: You have been assigned a mission to defend your father due to the sudden intrusion happening from a gang called “The Ghosts" but something happens on the way.

“10-33, all units needed we have a breach.”

Your dispatchers voice rang through your earpiece. You and your team were in one of the debriefing rooms before we got the message. Everyone started running out to grab their gear, you did as well. Throwing your black long-sleeve jacket over your t-shirt before grabbing your vest and securing it tightly. You already had your cargos on, grabbing your helmet and gun and bolting.

You met up with your team, consisting of some of your closest partners. But there was the one that was one of your best friends, Arrow. You were always expected to join your fathers defense team, she promised you when you were younger that she would join as well. You have had off and ons before but this experience has brought you closer together, almost like sisters. Anyway, your squad leader, Fang, start talking after taking a head count. “Alright, Easy, Payback, Vix, and Dallas - Y’all take the southern side of the building. Baja, Riot, Dodger, and Horizon - Y’all take the western side. Chaos, Whiskey, Spitfire, and Keeper - Y’all take the northern side. Trigger, Pyro, Wildcat, and Thorn - Y’all take the east side.” Fang listed off a few more members, there were about 35 members there, including yourself. “Echo, Arrow, Patriot, and Blister. All of you will be in a group with me, we will be defending Mr. Brooks as he waits for a chopper to pick him up.” He gestured to you and your new team. You did get nervous for a bit, your whole team was full of your closest partners and you had to keep your father safe? All of the pressure was on you. “Move out!” Fang yelled out, snapping you out of your thoughts. Everyone hustled out of the room and went to their assigned places. There were more soldiers out of the group that you met with, your group was “ Task Force 78”, The south assigned group plus some was “Task Force 135” , the north assigned group plus some was “Task Force 83” , the west assigned group plus some was “Task Force 32” , and the east assigned group plus some was “Task Force 252” . Each group had 8 members, besides your own. You only had five to defend your father.

There were multiple floors to this building of your fathers, around maybe 4 different floors. Four group members from Task Force 135 and 83 were on the front lines, the first floor. The other four were on the second floor, spread out all over. All eight members of Task Force 32 were on the third floor, accompanied by four of Task Force 252’s members. The other four from 252 were on the fourth floor, with my group. They were farther away from your group, standing closer to the stairs. Enough about the lineup, the enemies were approaching, and fast. “Fuck.. can the heli get here any slower?” You muttered under your breath, pulling up your sleeve to check your watch. You looked back at your father, pacing around in his bright navy blue suit, then back to your team. Patriot and Blister stood outside the doors and would let us know if they heard or saw any movement nearby. Arrow, Fang, and yourself were in the room with your father. Fang and Arrow were talking, your dad was pacing around while checking his computers ever so often. Before you knew it, you heard it. There were multiple gunshots fired downstairs. It had begun.

“11 Bravo, 83 is down.” All three of us heard it in our earpieces, you could see the shock in Fang’s face. He looked at both you and Arrow before speaking, “Lima Charlie, continue as planned.” He walked over to the computer screens by my fathers desk. He slammed his hands on the desk before turning around and dragging his hands down his face and groaning. You and Arrow looked at eachother, then back at him. “When will the chopper be here?” You asked, tilting your head a bit. “Not for at least another..” He looked down and checked his watch, “20-ish minutes.” You shook your head, smiling. “Well, I’m sure we can kill a couple of guys quicker than that, ay?”

It had been around 15 minutes, it consisted of listening closely downstairs to see if the shots had been progressing closer or stayed the same. For the most part they stayed the same but it got closer for a minute.

Now 18 minutes passed, we got the note that the chopper was close to the base. The gunshots had been progressively getting closer, and closer. Task Force 83, 135, and 32 had been wiped out completely. Task Force 252 had four members injured and the other four dead. The enemies had made their way up to the fourth floor, where you were. Fang eventually went outside with Patriot and Blister to help them defend, leaving Arrow, yourself, and your father in a room together. You heard the gunshots from outside the door, it has started once again. You got the ping that the chopper was here, you looked up to Arrow. You could see tears start to well up in her eyes. She ran up to you and gave you a tight hug. “I love you so much, don’t ever forget it.” You felt the tears start to stream down your cheek before she let go. “Save yourself, and your father.” She whispered, voice broken as she gave a small kiss to your forehead. She saluted you, smiling brightly as a tear fell down her cheek, before running out the door into battle. You quickly turned around to your father, latching an arm around him and rushing him up the steps to the roof where the chopper lay. There were soldiers that you handed him off to, before running back downstairs to help your partners. You were too late.

You ran down the steps as fast as you could, pushing yourself through the steel door and running down the hall where Fang said that they would be. It was silent. There was no one around. You scanned around the dark room, looking for any sight of life, or death. You heard a small, weak cough. You had enough hope, whipping yourself over to where you heard it. There she sat. Face shattered with blood and dirt all over, you could see at least 2 bullet wounds and a stab in the shoulder. One bullet wound was on her leg, and one on her chest. You immediately broke down in tears.

You bent down next to her, cupping her face. You heard her gasping for air, gasping for her life. Her eyes were still, barely shining with life. “E-Echo?” She called out, her vocal chords squeaking through her small speeches. You shushed her, letting a tear fall down onto her. “I- l-love you k-kid.” She said quietly before coughing roughly. “I love you too, Mae.” You could see the shock on her face from using her real name, yet a warm smile on her face appeared. You tucked some of her black strands of hair behind her ear that stuck to her face. She reached a weak hand up to yours, holding her hand in yours. She looked you in the eyes, giving you a weak smile as a single tear rolled down her bloodied, dirt covered face. Her eyes went gray as her grasp went limp. You wailed out, burying your face into her chest, hand still gripping hers tightly.

It took a couple minutes for you to finally pull away, you gave her a small kiss on the forehead as a tear rolled down your cheek. You stood up, wiped your tears away and gave her a salute. You grabbed her knife and guns, a MP5 and AK-47. You doubted that the enemy went away, they were probably making sure my fellow soldiers had died. Checking the building for any other clues of where your father could be headed. You quickly yet quietly made your way through the big dark building.

You made it to what seemed to be the second floor. You stopped in your tracks as you heard voices throughout the opposite room from you. “I’m not seeing anything, Price.” It sounded like a ..Scottish man? “Keep lookin, you may find something Soap.” There was a scoff after what the other man said. Eventually, it sounded like they moved on. You moved to where the two men just were, clinging to the walls as you scooted your way through the building. You finally made it to the steps, which led to the first floor. You saw light come in with a black shadow behind it, making you scramble away from the steps. Before you could get far away, you bumped into something. It felt as tough as a wall so you assumed it was a wall, before feeling it grab you. Whoever this was, was a man. He grabbed you by the arm, chest behind your back. He pulled your wrist out behind you before pressing his strong hand into the socket of your shoulder. You wiggled around, trying to get out from his grasp, and that only made him grip you harder. You groaned out in pain, this man could break you at any moment. You could feel him shift behind you, he was leaning in towards you. You could feel what seemed to be a mask brush against your ear before hearing, “Move an inch, this pretty li’l shoulder gets dislocated. Cooperate with me, won’t you?”

Before you knew it, you had been knocked out.

You woke up to a small dripping noise, fluttering your eyelashes open before squinting in the lit room. You looked down at yourself, wiggling around before discovering you had zip ties around your wrists and ankles, digging painfully into your skin. You got a bit startled when you woke up, obviously in a new setting but quickly got used to it. The room had a concrete ground, with dark gray tiled walls. There were no windows in the room, the only source of light was the bright, dingy leds hanging above you. There was a steel door, no window with no lock on the inside. You assumed the lock would be outside of the door. There was a metal table in the center of the room and a couple of metal chairs with it. Everytime you tried to move, the zip ties dug into your skin making it red raw. You sat awkwardly upright on one of the cold metal chairs. Your ankles had been crossed together and your hands had been tied together, placed in your lap. You still had your regular outfit on, cargos and all but your gear was taken away for obvious reasons. You were obviously kidnapped and taken into an interrogation room.

You had no idea where you were, you were knocked out cold when they transported you here. As you sat in silence in the chair, your mind kept racing about what happened back at your fathers business tower, most of all the death of your whole team…and to the mystery man who had almost dislocated your shoulder. You tried to distract yourself from thinking back to that situation. If the people who brought you here came into the room to see you sobbing, that would be very embarrassing and awkward. Your thoughts had been interrupted by hearing the steel door open, the horrific sound of it squeaking along the concrete. You could hear three sets of heavy combat boots walk in, closing the door behind them. You didn’t give them the luxury of you looking up to them. One of these men called your name, it sounded just like what you heard in the building. “..Lyla Brooks, callsign ‘Echo’.” You could hear him striding closer, the others seemed to stay in the same spot. “Daughter of one ‘Cade Brooks’, right?” He reached out for your jaw, gripping it tightly in his hand. You could see him much more clearly now. He had mutton chops, bright blue eyes, and a bucket hat. He had on dark green cargo pants, and a dark gray jacket on. On top of the jacket, he still had on a dark green bulletproof vest with Britain's flag etched on it. You looked over to the side of his chest, his name was also etched on it, PRICE. “Where is your father headed?” He let go of your chin, before striding over to lean against the table. You looked over to the other two men in the room, one had a mask on with a skull on it, the other had a dirtied cloth that hung over his face but they were both wearing the same as the British man. You smirked, shrugging your shoulders. You could feel the frustration start to boil in the room. “Don’t fuck about. Where is he.” The man in the mask yelled out, getting more impatient. All this did was fire you up more as the man with the cloth over his face reached a hand over the other man’s chest. “I told you, I don’t know…” You said, sounding more whiny than you intended while giving them your best big doe eyed glare.

After a grueling 15 minutes of interrogation the British man, “Price”, said “Fuck it, Ghost take care of the lass.” Before leaving the room. The man with the cloth over his face had left too. The steel door creaked closed, it was only you and this man, “Ghost”, in the room now. He had stalked you in the corner, cracking his knuckles through his gloves. He stepped into the light, you could see him much more clearly now. He was huge, much bigger than your frame. “Now,” He started, big clunk ’s filled the room, heavy strides from his combat boots. He got close to you, kneeling down before flicking his dark eyes to you. That sent a shiver down your spine, what the hell? Were you getting turned on by this shit? “Don’t try anything, love.” He said, turning his attention down to your restraints. He reached back, grabbing a sharp knife from his gun belt before bringing it up to your ankles. You sucked in a breath as he quickly freed your ankles from the binding. You stood up before landing a kick straight to his stomach and running for the door. He groaned in pain, grabbing his stomach. Shit, I should’ve known. The door was locked. How fucking stupid was you?? He stood up, you felt as small as ever when he faced you. His eyes had grown darker, full of rage. He strided closer to you, slowly. He gripped your shoulders before tossing you into the wall. You hit the cold, tiled wall with a thud as a moan escaped from your lips. Ghost quickly pursued, grabbing onto your neck as he started to choke you. A small smirk trickled to your face. He slapped you, busting out a small groan from you. You laughed to the best of your ability from the tightening grip on your neck. “The fuck you laughin’ at? I was not gonna do anything to you but, you chose this, love.” You could feel your thighs clench from hearing his dark words, and seeing his arm flexing as he choked you out. What the fuck..You were actually getting off at this. You gave out a small grunt, as your eyes started to flutter closed. Your mind raced at what could happen right now. You just met this guy, and he took you here to interrogate you yet you were getting off at his methods? Christ. A dark chuckle broke your thoughts.

You opened your eyes, feeling his grip lessen. He looked me up and down, “You're getting off to this, aren’t you love?” You could feel your face redden instantly, his cocky attitude only grew larger after that. He completely let go of your throat, moving his large hand down to your hands as he dragged you near the table. He forcefully pushed you down, making you bend over the cold table. He positioned himself right behind you, his clothed crotch painfully close to yours. He leaned into your ear, rock hard cock pressed into your ass. “Aren’t you something? Getting off at your kidnappers huh?” He gripped your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. They were clouded with lust. “What would your father have to say about this?” He slowly started to grind his hips into your ass, making you gasp. He smiled cockily at this noise from you. “What a slut. Offering yourself to me, though you’ve never met me. Do you do this with everyone? I bet if Price was in ‘ere you’d been doing the same.” He said darkly before pulling away. There was a pause for a moment, but then.. SMACK . You moaned out, he slapped your ass, and hard. “You're lucky this room doesn’t have cameras yet..or would you like that? Huh? Letting everyone see me having my way with you?” He kneaded your asscheek in his hand before giving another smack, causing you to jump forward and moan out. “Please, sir…” You whined out, putting your head down onto the cold table as your hips bucked. All this did was earn a deep chuckle from the man behind you. “How pathetic.. Already begging for me, huh?”

“Lift your hands up for me, love.” And you did, lifting your restraints above your head for him. You could hear him shifting around, but eventually he cut them off. Gasping in relief, you rubbed my wrists though they were numb from the pain. You could feel his fingers start to come around your waist. He undid your belt buckle with fast fingers, quickly unbuttoning them and latching onto the elastic. “Are you sure you want to do this love, once we start I am not going easy on you.” He asked, making you nod your head quickly. “Use your words, baby.” He said, kneading your ass in his hand again. “I am sure. Do whatever you want with me.” You smiled wickedly, biting your lip as you heard him groan behind you. He basically ripped your cargos off, leaving you in your panties. You went ahead and worked on your shirt, successfully getting it off. You felt cold hands on your back, he unhooked your bra. Slipping it off quickly before grasping your tits in his hand, his cold, beat up, leather gloves against your soft, perky tits felt heavenly.

He moved his attention to your soaked panties, putting a finger right next to your heat. He fucking groaned at the feeling. “Look at how fucking wet you are for me, and I can tell even through the glove. All this from a little choking. What a slut!” He growled out before latching onto your panties and jerking them down your legs. The cold air against your hot core made you buck up, whining out for Ghost. He grabbed your panties, inhaling them and letting out a small moan. He put them in his pocket, earning a smirk from you. There was rustling behind you, Ghost had taken off his shirt, gloves, and gun belt. He grabbed your waist, flipping you over and hiking you up on the table. He got closer, gripping onto your knees and forcefully spreading them out. He stepped in between them, covering your eyes. He had hiked his mask up, gripping your chin and smashing his lips against your own. He dropped his hand from your eyes down to your tits. He pushed his tongue through your lips, swirling it around yours as he played with your tit in his hand. You reached a hand up to his jaw, you could feel scars and a small stubble on his jaw. He dragged his other hand down to your thigh, dangerously close to your core. He eventually snaked his way up your thigh again, planting a hand onto your clit earning a gasp from you. He quickly rubbed circles around it, making you moan out his callsign. He stopped for a moment, “Simon, my name is Simon, darling.” And you nodded. He pulled away from your lips, dragging them down to your neck and eventually down to your nipple. You gasped, “Please..” you bucked against his hand. He pulled away from your nipple again, pulling his mask down again. He took you over by the steel chairs, making him take a seat on one. “Get on your knees, whore.” And you did. He grabbed your jaw again, leaning down to your face. “You can’t expect me to do all the work. I want to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.” He smiled wickedly under his mask, shifting in the chair. He looked down at you, you could see the obvious tent in his pants. He gestured to you, making your hands fly to his belt. You undid his belt, pulling it out from his waist and throwing it on the floor next to you. You took your extra hair tie on your wrist and quickly threw your hair up in a ponytail. You unbuttoned his buttons, before smiling. You slowly got closer to his crotch, latching your teeth onto the zipper of his pants. He watched your movements attentively, as you looked up at him with doe eyes. He shifted in his seat once again, making you smile. You slowly pulled the zipper down all the way before letting go. He picked his lower half up, pulling his pants and boxers down halfway.

His thick cock sprung out, making it hit his abdomen with a small slap noise. You watched it hungrily, licking your lips as you felt your core get even hotter. You looked up to Simon, eyes asking for permission as he nodded. You scooched closer to him, placing yourself right in between his spread legs. You wrapped your hands around the thick base of his cock. You tried to plan this out before going in, he was very lengthy and very thick. Your hand barely wrapped around it. Oh well! You started slowly pumping it before looking up to his lust covered eyes. You spat on his cock before opening your mouth and swallowing his tip. You swirled your tongue around his tip, pressing it on the slit for a minute. You eventually got enough courage to take half of him in your mouth, you didn’t think you could physically take anymore in your mouth. You bobbed your head quickly while double handing the rest of his shaft. You hollowed out your cheeks for him. He groaned out before snaking a hand onto your hair. You stopped and looked up to him, You could see the smirk on his face. He bunched up your hair before slamming his cock down your obedient throat while grunting with every thrust. “Such a good fucking girl..” He grunted out, this only lit a fire inside you. The mix of praise and degradation he was giving you with that hot ass voice of his was overwhelming. He pumped harder into your throat, the sound of your chokes and the warmth of your wet throat almost sent him off the edge. He eventually pulled out after the assault on your throat. He pulled his pants back up, buttoning them again.

He took you back over to the table. “Get up there, now.” You felt courageous, facing him and leaning on the table with a wicked smirk on your face. “I suggest you do it now, Echo. If not, you’ll regret it.” You eventually gave in. You slowly hopped up on the cold metal table. It felt like you were in a predator prey situation, and you loved every second of it. You stretched your legs wide open for him when you sat down.

He groaned loudly at the sight of you, the sight of you splayed out for him with your aching hole on display was absolutely irresistible. You looked at him, gripping onto the table as best as you could. The sound of clunks from his heavy boots came back into your ears, his presence was directly in front of you now. Gasping out as you felt two of his cold, calloused fingers drag from your clit down to your opening. “Just from one little drag of my fingers and they are already drenched. Aren’t you just aching for me?” He hissed, rubbing in between your folds. “Mmm..p-please..” You said through sharp gasps, eyes screwed shut as Simon played with your cunt. Your body threw itself backwards, feeling his palm give a slap to your wet pussy making a very lewd sound. “Such a little fucking slut.” He muttered under his breath before pinching your clit, making you whine. You threw your head back as he lightly pushed his middle finger against your opening. Your hips bucked against it, “Can you just fuck me already! Stop teasing!” You groaned out, having enough of this game of teasing. You quickly regretted your outburst when quickly plunged two fingers into you with his thumb rubbing your clit.

“Do you really think that you are in a position to be making demands now?” He growled out, fingering and rubbing you at a much more grueling pace. “N-no sir!” You whined out, hips bucking wildly at the new stimulation. You couldn’t help the moans that started to pour out of your mouth when he curled his fingers on that spot that made you see stars. “Nothin’ but a little moanin’ slut for me that I got my fingers in ya.” He eventually withdrew his fingers, making you whine at the feeling. He looked up at you before bending down to crotch level, making you bite your lip to suppress moans that threatened to pour out. He hooked his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the table. He pulled his mask up to expose his mouth once again, finally letting you see him. You let your head roll back as his mouth made contact with your clit. Your hands flew to his head, pushing him closer and guiding him to your most sensitive spots. “Quiet baby, don’t want the others to hear you.” His fingers punctuating your thighs, eating you out like a starved man and you were a feast sitting right in front of him. Seeing the way the veins in his hands popped out, and the way his muscles flexed when he was holding you down in place only makes you wetter. His lips sealed tightly around your clit, sucking and lapping at it basically unhinging his jaw. A purpose driven man, when he dips his tongue into your cunt, your mind goes automatically blank. Your legs shake and stretch deliciously and you can’t not scratch at his balaclava when he gives you quick, yet timed plunges with his tongue. His thick arm leaves your plush thigh to tease your entrance. You can feel him smiling against your clit when he pushes it in, giving you a small smack to your ass with his other hand. He pulls away from your clit to spit on it, then goes back in. He adds another finger to the mix, pushing them all the way in. He nips at your clit and violently shakes his head back and forth as he’s pumping his thick fingers inside and out of you. “S-Simon I’m gonna-” He completely stops everything. He pulls both fingers out of you and his face.

He gives you a smack to the ass, “You really think I was gonna let you off that easy, love?” Smiling wickedly as he pulls his mask down once again. He stands up straight, pulling you up to him. “Stand up and bend over this fucking table.” You followed his order, standing up and slowly turning around. You slowly yet seductively bent down until you felt your elbows hit the cold metal, giving him a whole show. You heard the soft sound of his zipper being opened once again. He nudged the tip of his cock against your clit, making you gasp. He watched how your cunt started to flutter around nothing, it made him want you even more. He eased the tip of his cock inside your drenched slit, making you gasp at how much he stretched you. “Gonna fill you up so good..” He suddenly thrusted his whole length into you, making you moan particularly loud before his hand flew to your mouth. “As much as I would love to hear you scream for me, these walls aren’t that thick so keep quiet for me baby.” He rasped in your ear, you swore you felt his cock twitch inside you. He grunted when your pussy tightened even more on him. Ghost started with a brutal pace immediately, not backing down on his promise from earlier. He put your arms behind you, slipping an arm between them to have leverage as he pounded into you. Your hips kept rocking against the cold table painfully due to the position you were in. You arched your back to look up at him, making him grunt in your ear. His balls slapping your wet clit with every thrust only made you closer to your orgasm. You swore with every powerful thrust you thought he was gonna split you in half. He eventually let go of your arms and snaked one hand to your hair, the other down to your clit. Your face was blown out with pleasure, trying your best to suppress your moans but fell unsuccessful. “You look so pretty around my cock, love.” He choked out, letting go of your hair and snaking his hand to your throat and leaning back to take quick glances at your fucked out pussy. “So..fucking..tight for me..” Your pussy was practically choking him, and you could feel it. “P-please..so..close..” You choked out, grasping behind you for his torso. “Beg for it, slut.” He growled, he let go of your throat. He pushed you down onto the cold table, making you cry out. “I need it! Please, please!” You cried out, gripping onto the table until your knuckles go white. He smiled with pride, “C’mon, cum all over my cock.” He slammed into you even harder, making the knot in your stomach release. You came down hard, legs shaking hard as your toes began to lift up. He thrusted hard into you as he chased his own orgasm, the sound of wet skin slapping against each other filled the room. “Too..fucking..tight..” A thrust for every word, one last slam into you before he came in you when he said “tight.” You both sat there for a minute before he pulled out, making you whine at the feeling of not being full anymore. You tightened your walls, not letting any of his cum slip out when you stood up. You turned around to him, face red with your makeup smudged. “Now, I’m gonna need to know where your father is going.. Maybe we could do this again sometime if I see you on duty again.” He smiled, and so did you.

You gave him where your father was going, you couldn’t wait to run into him again.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod modern warfare #cod #angst #smut

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meadowsofmay · 1 year

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first winter:

legolas' first winter on a battle field was... terrifying, to say the least. thranduil still shudders when first snow covers the ground because he can't just erase this empty, tarnished look in his son's eyes from his memory.

even though, he would do anything to erase legolas' memory of the first winter on a battle field.

when his first summer came and he joined his father's king's guard as a mere soldier, legolas was young and eager and full of energy to protect. and the moment legolas went out of the doors of his halls and dissappeared into the woods on his first mission — thranduil knew. he knew he won't be able to hold him back, to hide him behind other, more skilled warriors and more so to pull him back into the safety of their stronghold and save him from the fate of those who pledged their life. he can force him to learn about diplomacy, assign him teachers and make him sit through councils behind closed doors but nothing will stop legolas from coming back to the woods. not when the danger is so near, breathing down their necks and pushing them further and further north.

legolas painfully reminded thranduil about his mother.

and it was easier for legolas, thranduil knows, when summer's grass covered all the blood and century old roots hid dead bodies from the sore eyes. it's easier because you don't always see the damage on darks of brown and green that prevailed in their armor. but the white doesn't hide anything. it's merciless, cruel, — on clear canvas of the field it makes the colors pop, — and it took alot for thranduil to learn to wear it graciously.

and yet, there's nothing gracious in every day battle east or west, or even south, of their woods, for orcs and spiders flood in hoards like a mudslide, dirty and ugly and barely stoppable.

legolas couldn't move when he saw it. his company were staying at the south-eastern base, an order came to check the paths and help in clearing the spider nests, simple and basic as that, and they were halfway done with the day when the horn came. and then, bone-shaking, chilling roar somewhere from below the hill they were on — it made them stop in their tracks, terror chaining their legs to the fresh cover of snow. they were five minutes, no more, away from the gates of the base. but the ground was shuddering for an army marched on them.

their captain yelled at them to run, a sudden sound in the deafening silence of the approaching battle pulling them out of their stupor, and the next legolas knew — his lungs were burning as he did exactly what he was told.

an arrow took the first elf down and then it began.

thranduil ran. he ran as quickly as he could to the healing wards, his robes tangling in between his steps, slowing him down in the haste. the news got to him fast — the south-eastern base was destroyed, orcs has slain almost everyone, barely any were left alive. the only thing thranduil was able to manage was chocked legolas before he ran, not waiting for a reply. he needed to see him, needed to make sure himself that his son is the one who got out alive. he needed...

legolas was here.

he was sitting on the bed and commotion surrounded him — thranduil looked at all the white clothes stained in red and purplish-black, torn apart beyong repair on the floor, healers moving swiftly in between beds doing their job with herbs and stitches and bandages, and it felt like fever overtook him, the king, himself. legolas was alive but he wasn't moving.

pale and weak, he was looking somewhere beyong the walls on the room, his body fully in the possession of the healers that were bandaging his arms and his chest. thranduil heard them murmuring, calling legolas by name, asking but getting no response. and the fever that overtook the king's body just a moment ago was washed over, as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water on him, with a chill running down his spine.

legolas wasn't moving.

healers looked at thranduil, standing across the room as if to not get in the way, and he had to physically force his face to keep the mask of utter calmness even when his heart broke somewhere down between his ribcage. he moved slowly forward, afraid to see what he feared the most.

shock. as if the moment orcs launched at them now forever imprinted on the fair face of his son. legolas was unresponsive. healers were still working on his wounds. thranduil sat in front of him, squatting down on the floor, his own robes covering what was left of an armor legolas wore, and took his cold hands in his own. he called softly, testing waters, and brought legolas' palms up to his face, blowing hot air on the stiff fingers. legolas didn't even blink. his breathing was barely noticeable.

legolas was one step away from completely shutting down and thranduil felt like his heart won't handle it happening. so, he talked. gently, rubbing his son's fingers bringing blood to movement again, taking a seat by legolas' side when a healer leaves and turning his head towards his own.

please, little one, follow my voice...

legolas looked at him more like through him and his eyes were lifeless, the gentle blue of his faded, reminding thranduil more of a wet greyish clouds that spread across the sky during winter months.

don't let the grief take you, come back to me...

cradling legolas in his arms, thranduil nuzzled in his tangled, stained with blood hair. he kept calling him back, again and again, praying that father's voice will reach the further corners of his son's being where he hid himself from all the terror he went through. like a beacon, he wanted to let legolas know that he is safe now and to lead him out, help him heal.

because there was no time for thranduil to heal after his first big battles, after ones that left him scarred not only physically but also mentally, haunting him at night like dogs would hunt a beaten animal and making his waking hours a living nightmare. thranduil promised, swore right there and then, — when legolas finally took a deep, gasping breath and grabbed his clothes to steady himself, — that he will do anything to prevent legolas from going through the same.

legolas babbled, choked on his tears, forgetting all the shame that mature warriors sometimes implant in the heads of the young ones because he needed to tell. to tell his father about the snow, the crisp, fresh snow and the blood, angry red and bright, so bright it made him nauseous right in the middle of the battle.

i am so sorry...

thranduil held back his own emotions, running his fingers through legolas' hair in vain attempt to calm him down. he knew already that those nightmares will be vivid.

none of this is your fault, you did your best.

h-he made me leave, the captain of legolas' company, thranduil had already heard, sent horses with whatever was left of his warriors to the stronghold, but stayed on the battlefield himself, i didn't want to... he is still there...

thranduil knew that he is there. thranduil knew for a fact that he was already dead. thranduil was greatful that he saved the only family that he has left and yet. no words managed to come out of his mouth, no consolation good enough for a soul that was, still dancing on the edge of sorrow and guilt. he could say nothing but silence spoke enough for him.

is this how it's going to be now?

thranduil will never forget the red dawns of the winter when his son looked the death in the eye and accepted his fate.

#that was supposed to be a headcanon #but i turned out to be almost a one-shot #because i have absolute ZERO self restraint #also hi #this is my writing style #it's messy and it's based on vibes and it's stupid but i like it #i was supposed to write more about the bloodied snow #but i guess it didn't work out #i got carried away and i am sure i fucked up tenses but i DON'T CARE (i do) i am no speak english no sorry #aNYWAY #thranduil oropherion #legolas greenleaf #mirkwood #lotr headcanons #may writes

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istumpysk · 2 years

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: The Windblown (Quentyn II) [Chapter 25]

She is coming. Her host is on the march. She is racing south to Yunkai, to put the city to the torch and its people to the sword, and we are going north to meet her.

Frog had it from Dick Straw who had it from Old Bill Bone who had it from a Pentoshi named Myrio Myrakis, who had a cousin who served as cupbearer to the Tattered Prince. "Coz heard it in the command tent, from Caggo's own lips," Dick Straw insisted. "We'll march before the day is out, see if we don't."

+.+.+

"We'll get provisions in Yunkai, maybe fresh horses, then it will be on to Meereen to dance with the dragon queen. So hop quick, Frog, and put a nice edge on your master's sword. Might be he'll need it soon."

In Dorne Quentyn Martell had been a prince, in Volantis a merchant's man, but on the shores of Slaver's Bay he was only Frog, squire to the big bald Dornish knight the sellswords called Greenguts. The men of the Windblown used what names they would, and changed them at a whim. They'd fastened Frog on him because he hopped so fast when the big man shouted a command.

Frog prince, she's not going to kiss you, please go home.

He refers to himself as Frog throughout this chapter. Oh, Quentyn.

+.+.+

The Windblown went back thirty years, and had known but one commander, the soft-spoken, sad-eyed Pentoshi nobleman called the Tattered Prince. His hair and mail were silver-grey, but his ragged cloak was made of twists of cloth of many colors, blue and grey and purple, red and gold and green, magenta and vermilion and cerulean, all faded by the sun. When the Tattered Prince was three-and-twenty, as Dick Straw told the story, the magisters of Pentos had chosen him to be their new prince, hours after beheading their old prince. Instead he'd buckled on a sword, mounted his favorite horse, and fled to the Disputed Lands, never to return. He had ridden with the Second Sons, the Iron Shields, and the Maiden's Men, then joined with five brothers-in-arms to form the Windblown. Of those six founders, only he survived.

[...]

An old man he was, past sixty, yet he still sat straight and tall in the high saddle, and his voice was strong enough to carry to every corner of the field.

There are old sellswords and bold sellswords, but no old bold sellswords. - Daenerys V, ASOS

The Tattered Prince was selected to be Prince of Pentos, and refused. It's giving Jon Snow.

For those thinking that might also be hinting at a volunteered exile, we'll later learn the Tattered Prince does want Pentos. So no, I don't think so.

"What I want," said the Tattered Prince, "is Pentos." - The Spurned Suitor, ADWD

+.+.+

But Gerris had the right of it; he and Arch were here to protect Quentyn, and that meant keeping him by the big man's side. "Arch is the best fighter of the three of us," Drinkwater had pointed out, "but only you can hope to wed the dragon queen."

Wed her or fight her; either way, I will face her soon.

Boy, you don't know how right you are.

+.+.+

The more Quentyn heard of Daenerys Targaryen, the more he feared that meeting.

[...]

And Books, the clever Volantene swordsman who always seemed to have his nose poked in some crumbly scroll, thought the dragon queen both murderous and mad. "Her khal killed her brother to make her queen. Then she killed her khal to make herself khaleesi. She practices blood sacrifice, lies as easily as she breathes, turns against her own on a whim. She's broken truces, tortured envoys … her father was mad too. It runs in the blood."

And the best lies contain within them nuggets of truth, enough to give a listener pause. - Tyrion III, ACOK

+.+.+

It runs in the blood. King Aerys II had been mad, all of Westeros knew that. He had exiled two of his Hands and burned a third. If Daenerys is as murderous as her father, must I still marry her? Prince Doran had never spoken of that possibility.

That's the problem with marriage pacts, you might get a Viserys or Daenerys.

He had exiled two of his Hands and burned a third.

I never considered this might be foreshadowing. She exiles Jorah.

+.+.+

Frog would be glad to put Astapor behind him. The Red City was the closest thing to hell he ever hoped to know. The Yunkai'i had sealed the broken gates to keep the dead and dying inside the city, but the sights that he had seen riding down those red brick streets would haunt Quentyn Martell forever. A river choked with corpses. The priestess in her torn robes, impaled upon a stake and attended by a cloud of glistening green flies. Dying men staggering through the streets, bloody and befouled. Children fighting over half-cooked puppies. The last free king of Astapor, screaming naked in the pit as he was set on by a score of starving dogs. And fires, fires everywhere. He could close his eyes and see them still: flames whirling from brick pyramids larger than any castle he had ever seen, plumes of greasy smoke coiling upward like great black snakes.

Good lord.

"What's the point of Quentyn Martell's POV?" This. This is the point. POVs in Slaver's Bay that aren't Daenerys.

+.+.+

When the wind blew from the south, the air smelled of smoke even here, three miles from the city. Behind its crumbling red brick walls, Astapor was still asmolder, though by now most of the great fires had burned out. Ashes floated lazy on the breeze like fat grey snowflakes.

+.+.+

The Yunkai'i did not lack for commanders. An old hero named Yurkhaz zo Yunzak had the supreme command, though the men of the Windblown glimpsed him only at a distance, coming and going in a palanquin so huge it required forty slaves to carry it.

They could not help but see his underlings, however. The Yunkish lordlings scuttled everywhere, like roaches. Half of them seemed to be named Ghazdan, Grazdan, Mazdhan, or Ghaznak; telling one Ghiscari name from another was an art few of the Windblown had mastered, so they gave them mocking styles of their own devising.

Ha ha, funny author. Almost as funny as introducing three new characters, then changing their names the next chapter.

Yurkhaz zo Yunzak will be an important character, but I don't remember enough to have an opinion of him.

+.+.+

Foremost amongst them was the Yellow Whale, an obscenely fat man who always wore yellow silk tokars with golden fringes. Too heavy even to stand unassisted, he could not hold his water, so he always smelled of piss, a stench so sharp that even heavy perfumes could not conceal it. But he was said to be the richest man in Yunkai, and he had a passion for grotesques; his slaves included a boy with the legs and hooves of a goat, a bearded woman, a two-headed monster from Mantarys, and a hermaphrodite who warmed his bed at night. "Cock and cunny both," Dick Straw told them. "The Whale used to own a giant too, liked to watch him fuck his slave girls. Then he died. I hear the Whale'd give a sack o' gold for a new one."

Guess who buys Tyrion in a slave market.

Is every character morbidly obese in this book? He's probably supposed to remind me of Illyrio. Couldn't tell you why.

+.+.+

Then there was the Girl General, who rode about on a white horse with a red mane and commanded a hundred strapping slave soldiers that she had bred and trained herself, all of them young, lean, rippling with muscle, and naked but for breechclouts, yellow cloaks, and long bronze shields with erotic inlays. Their mistress could not have been more than sixteen and fancied herself Yunkai's own Daenerys Targaryen.

Is the horse named Drogal? Does she call her slaves freedmen?

+.+.+

The Little Pigeon was not quite a dwarf, but he might have passed for one in a bad light. Yet he strutted about as if he were a giant, with his plump little legs spread wide and his plump little chest puffed out. His soldiers were the tallest that any of the Windblown had ever seen; the shortest stood seven feet tall, the tallest close to eight. All were long-faced and long-legged, and the stilts built into the legs of their ornate armor made them longer still. Pink-enameled scales covered their torsos; on their heads were perched elongated helms complete with pointed steel beaks and crests of bobbing pink feathers. Each man wore a long curved sword upon his hip, and each clasped a spear as tall as he was, with a leaf-shaped blade at either end.

"The Little Pigeon breeds them," Dick Straw informed them. "He buys tall slaves from all over the world, mates the men to the women, and keeps their tallest offspring for the Herons. One day he hopes to be able to dispense with the stilts."

The giant dwarf is a nod to Tyrion, but I don't know what the hell the rest of it means.

+.+.+

"Some say that herons are majestic," said Old Bill Bone.

"If your king eats frogs while standing on one leg."

"Herons are craven," the big man put in. "One time me and Drink and Cletus were hunting, and we came on these herons wading in the shallows, feasting on tadpoles and small fish. They made a pretty sight, aye, but then a hawk passed overhead, and they all took to the wing like they'd seen a dragon. Kicked up so much wind it blew me off my horse, but Cletus nocked an arrow to his string and brought one down. Tasted like duck, but not so greasy."

We've got an arrow taking down a massive bird, but it's the hawk that's the dragon in this scenario.

Herons fleeing once they see a dragon is probably a sign of things to come.

+.+.+

The last time the slave soldiers of Yunkai'i had faced the dragon queen's Unsullied, they broke and ran. The Clanker Lords had devised a stratagem to prevent that; they chained their troops together in groups of ten, wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle. "None of the poor bastards can run unless they all run," Dick Straw explained, laughing. "And if they do all run, they won't run very fast."

Something to keep in mind when Daenerys returns to Meereen in TWOW, and decimates the Yunkish slave army.

Game of Thrones didn't do a great job at conveying those were slaves she was burning.

+.+.+

"A pack of stinking yellow fools," Beans complained. "They still ain't managed to puzzle out why the Stormcrows and the Second Sons went over to the dragon queen."

"For gold, they believe," said Books. "Why do you think they're paying us so well?"

"Gold is sweet, but life is sweeter," said Beans. "We were dancing with cripples at Astapor. Do you want to face real Unsullied with that lot on your side?"

Daenerys better not lose battles in Westeros.

+.+.+

A real fight, thought Frog. The words stuck in his craw. The fight beneath the walls of Astapor had seemed real enough to him, though he knew the sellswords felt otherwise. "That was butchery, not battle," the warrior bard Denzo D'han had been heard to declare afterward.

[...]

Dead or alive, the Butcher King still took the Wise Masters unawares. The Yunkishmen were still running about in fluttering tokars trying to get their half-trained slave soldiers into some semblance of order as Unsullied spears came crashing through their siege lines. If not for their allies and their despised hirelings they might well have been overwhelmed, but the Windblown and the Company of the Cat were ahorse in minutes and came thundering down on the Astapori flanks even as a legion from New Ghis pushed through the Yunkish camp from the other side and met the Unsullied spear to spear and shield to shield.

A whole chapter dedicated to telling me Yunkai doesn't have a hope in hell.

+.+.+

The rest was butchery, but this time it was the Butcher King on the wrong end of the cleaver. Caggo was the one who finally cut him down, fighting through the king's protectors on his monstrous warhorse and opening Cleon the Great from shoulder to hip with one blow of his curved Valyrian arakh. Frog did not see it, but those who did claimed Cleon's copper armor rent like silk, and from within came an awful stench and a hundred wriggling grave worms. Cleon had been dead after all. The desperate Astapori had pulled him from his tomb, clapped him into armor, and tied him onto a horse in hopes of giving heart to their Unsullied.

Dead Cleon's fall wrote an end to that. The new Unsullied threw down their spears and shields and ran, only to find the gates of Astapor shut behind them.

What the hell?

I'm instantly reminded of Roose Bolton's decoy, but I doubt he'll be a dead guy.

+.+.+

Yet that was no real fight, he thought. The real fight will be on us soon, and we must be away before it comes, or we'll find ourselves fighting on the wrong side.

[...]

Those were hardships to be endured, the stuff of all adventures.

But what must come next was plain betrayal. The Yunkai'i had brought them from Old Volantis to fight for the Yellow City, but now the Dornishmen meant to turn their cloaks and go over to the other side. That meant abandoning their new brothers-in-arms as well. The Windblown were not the sort of companions Quentyn would have chosen, but he had crossed the sea with them, shared their meat and mead, fought beside them, traded tales with those few whose talk he understood.

Aww, he's made wildling friends.

Nice for the sellswords, but I wish more Yunkai were humanized. We're getting nothing but evil one-dimensional caricatures right now.

Oops, sorry, am I being a slavery apologist again?

+.+.+

It was the Tattered Prince himself who did the speaking. "Orders have come down from Yurkhaz," he said. "What Astapori still survive have come creeping from their hidey-holes, it seems. There's nothing left in Astapor but corpses, so they're pouring out into the countryside, hundreds of them, maybe thousands, all starved and sick. The Yunkai'i don't want them near their Yellow City. We've been commanded to hunt them down and turn them, drive them back to Astapor or north to Meereen. If the dragon queen wants to take them in, she's welcome to them. Half of them have the bloody flux, and even the healthy ones are mouths to feed."

And it begins.

Just when she thinks Astapor is behind her, someone rides in on a pale mare.

+.+.+

"A fair question. You're to ride east, deep into the hills, then swing wide about Yunkai, making for Meereen. Should you come on any Astapori, drive them north or kill them … but know that is not the purpose of your mission. Beyond the Yellow City, you're like to come up against the dragon queen's patrols. Second Sons or Stormcrows. Either will serve. Go over to them."

"Go over to them?" said the bastard knight, Ser Orson Stone. "You'd have us turn our cloaks?"

"I would," said the Tattered Prince.

Quentyn Martell almost laughed aloud. The gods are mad.

Now he doesn't have to defect! This is like the only good thing to ever happen to Quentyn Martell.

+.+.+

Hugh Hungerford frowned. "You think Queen Daenerys will take us in …"

"I do."

"… but if she does, what then? Are we spies? Assassins? Envoys? Are you thinking to change sides?"

[...]

"Let us be frank," said Denzo D'han, the warrior bard. "The Yunkai'i do not inspire confidence. Whatever the outcome of this war, the Windblown should share in the spoils of victory. Our prince is wise to keep all roads open."

Hedging his bets. Now we know how he made it to sixty.

I'm a little cloudy on the details, but I believe Daenerys doesn't take the Windblown sellswords in at first, because she doesn't trust them. Then Barristan Selmy is put in charge, and agrees to do business. Is that correct?

More relying on the wrong people basically.

+.+.+

"Every one of you has ample reason for wanting to abandon me. And Daenerys Targaryen knows that sellswords are a fickle lot. Her own Second Sons and Stormcrows took Yunkish gold but did not hesitate to join her when the tide of battle began to flow her way."

It only now occurred to me that Taena Merryweather and Daario Naharis might be playing the same role in each queen's story. Other than the sexual attraction, I mean.

Cersei knows Taena is playing both sides, but seems to forget that as the story develops. Daenerys knows she shouldn't trust sellswords, but. . .

+.+.+

The three Dornishmen were silent as they left the command tent. Twenty riders, all speaking the Common Tongue, thought Quentyn. Whispering has just gotten a deal more dangerous.

The big man slapped him hard across the back. "So. This is sweet, Frog. A dragon hunt."

A dragon hunt?

Final thoughts:

That was one of the hardest chapters to read in the entire series. Not gruesome, I mean I didn't understand anything.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #the windblown #quentyn ii

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forever-eternal · 10 months

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Gunshots

This was not part of the plan!

*Mass disassociates, Gov gets shot*

———————————————————————

“Gus said there’s something under his suit.” Massachusetts leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and glaring at the ceiling, “Said it felt like a sheet of metal, said something similar was under his skin— in his shoulders.”

“He was tense as a board, Mass.” Virginia said, the the concern in their eyes countered their dismissal of the accusation. “Louie probably thought he felt something, with how stiff he was.”

“He winced,” New Jersey practically growled, “From falling on the softest things in the house. Not even a wince of surprise, eitha’.”

“He looked in pain.” New York finishes in a grumble.

Georgia broods in his seat, glowering into the distance, and Maryland keeps a hand on the larger mans’ arm— they know that, at this point, the Southerner would simply break down Gov’s door if they let him (He did the same thing when Congress got hurt and didn’t tell them. Would haul him downstairs and they’d fix him up (if he hadn’t already done so) and scold him for his recklessness. He did that often— no matter what they tried to get him to stop).

They’re not at The Table, but it’s one they have for when the 13 of them want to get together, discuss the Younger States and their kids and grandkids. And now they often discuss Gov, and his similarities to their Congress.

“Not much we can do about it, hun.” Maryland says, patting Georgia’s arm a few times, “He ain’t gonna show us, you saw how hard he tried to hide it.”

“So we just have to deal with knowing somethin’s up!?” New Hampshire throws his hands up to his hair, “What if it gets worse!?”

“It’s all we can do without forcin’ it.” North Carolina mutters, head buried in his hands.

“And forcin’ it will drive ‘im away.” South Carolina finishes.

Grumbles of concern, discontent, and frustration fill the room— with a heavy undertone of reluctant acceptance.

They could only wait, and hope they get a chance to see.

———————————————————————

When they said ‘wait and hope to get a chance’, they specifically didn’t want Gov to get shot!

Mass doesn’t know why someone would have a fully-loaded gun in public— scratch that, they’re in America. He couldn’t claim to expect any less, not even from NYC.

He barely remembers seeing Rhode Island, tiny twat that he is, barreling into the gunman’s back like a rabid dog—- the now empty gun falling several feet away. He didn’t pay attention to it, eyes wide and focused on one thing—- just like the rest of the State’s that had come to the City for the day.

Blood on the ground— continuing to drip drip drip even as he sprinted as fast as he possibly could in the direction of his injured fellow soldier— red red red spraying from their lips—

One of the bullets struck straight through Gov’s throat, barely missing everything important but with enough force to nearly tear his head off— and Mass can faintly see vocal cords beneath shredded skin.

Four struck his chest, around his lungs, though the one that went for his spinal cord didn’t seem to have an exit wound from what he could see.

The final bullet, the first one shot, had skimmed the side of his head, blood pouring down Gov’s face as he held a hand to his throat and chest, dripping from his lips as his lungs tried to stitch themselves back together inside— but it’d be awhile before he’d cough up all the blood. His eyes are half-lidded and dull, as if this is a normal situation as Penn tears off his Eagles jersey and shoos Gov’s hand from his neck, his own taking its place even as the fabric grows soaked with blood in mere minutes.

Mass skids to a stop in front of them, shoving Gov’s hand away from his chest to get a better look, other hand pressed against the side of the man’s head. There’s shouting, people are yelling and there are sirens in the distance. He vaguely hears the Carolina’s hauling Rhode Island off the bastard over the rushing in his own ears. He can hear his voice, barking something at Virginia and Maryland—

“Go get a place ready at the House! He’s losing too much blood!”

And it feels like he’s hearing the news of Congress’ death all over again— but this time, he’s watching it. He’s watching the boy’s eyes go dull by the second as blood spills over his hands.

So when he feels the tug, he goes— dragging the boy and Pennsylvania with him.

They land on a bed, one of the medical cots they usually keep in storage— soft and of the highest quality materials, made for comfort and ease of cleaning.

Gov’s eyes go wide and he lets out a silent pained gasp at the jostling, blood pouring from his mouth, covering his face even more with red red red.

He wonders faintly if this is what Robin, his daughter, had to see as her husband— his nephew, Continental Congress— ripped himself apart.

“Hold still,” he says sharply when Gov jerks in place, shifting to sit over top the man— he needs to see the wounds, needs to get the bullets out.

There’s a knife in his hand, his own pocket-knife, and sees himself cutting through Gov’s sweater, struggling to get the remains of it and his suit jacket off without moving him too much and risking further injury.

He sees a white undershirt, a compression top, sleeveless. It’s a thick fabric, made for support. He cuts through that, too.

He sees a scar, a four-pointed star across Gov’s entire chest.

He sees something black, reaching from his hip bones up to just under his rib cage. It’s thick and solid, with cotton padding. He’s used to such things being elastic, but this one seems solid, similar to the corsets all his daughters once wore. Beneath the fabric, between the padding, is a stiff weight— boning, he thinks. It’s custom-made. He doesn’t touch it.

“When did you get a facking back brace?” He hears himself hiss down at the man, blood roaring in his ears making everything dim. He hears intakes of breath, and hears Virginia trying to shoo away the States crowding at the door— the commotion drawing ears and eyes.

Gov looks too much like Congress for Mass’ grandkids to see him like this, and the man’s own children don’t need to see him like this either.

“Shut the damn door!” Pennsylvania shouts, sounding like he’s underwater as he tugs the cart of medical supplies closer, easier for Mass to reach. “John, JOHNNY! Help me out here!”

Gov was thrashing beneath them, as much as his own body and Mass’ weight would allow— but he was moving too much, eyes too afraid, he’s looking straight through them, at something far off.

Massachusetts hears the door close roughly, notices several of his fellow Original Colonies not in the room, likely keeping the younger States from coming inside.

Georgia presses his weight carefully on Gov’s shoulders, just enough to keep him from moving his upper half— one hand resting on the man’s forehead to keep his head still as well. Maryland’s state merch, specifically the flag he wears and his hat, is thrown across the room as the Old Line State starts to stitch the wound on his head, before moving onto his throat as Penn carefully pulls the ruined jersey away.

Mass can see his hands, steady despite how detached he feels as he pulls out a pair of tweezers to dig for the only bullet that lodged in Gov’s body.

Millimeters from his spine.

He’s careful, but then the tweezers pinch something solid and smooth — not bone — and Gov throws his head back and arches with a warbled, pained — pained cries, pained words, pain pain pain — scream.

“Masshole!” New York snarls,— he’s afraid, Mass can hear it in his voice, he’s lashing out because they’re all terrified of the scene they’re dealing with—climbing up to put pressure on thrashing legs, “Careful!”

“He’s got metal in his spine.” He hears his own voice hiss, finally getting hold of the bullet and pulling it out. It’s practically thrown across the room and he drops the tweezers, hands reaching for something he can’t see, coming back with a needle and thread. Virginia finishes with the disinfectant, each of their movements swift and purposeful.

He starts stitching.

Pennsylvania crouches down next to the bed, close to Gov’s head, and he’s whispering to him, muttering something— Gov looks so much like Congress, Pennsylvania can’t help but comfort the same way he does his kids.

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay. Just hang tight, Mass’ll be done soon, I promise.” There are more words, ones Mass can’t hear, ones Gov can’t seem to hear either.

Grey eyes are wild and flickering from side to side, hazy focus on each of them as they crowd. His lips are moving, like he wants to say something, like he’s repeating himself over and over again— and once Maryland finishes stitching his throat, setting to work on cleaning the remaining blood off his face when raspy words finally leave him—

“You’re killing me— why are you killing me?” The words are nearly silent, Mass can barely hear anything outside his own head, but he feels how they all suddenly tense at the phrases, “Was the War not enough— why’d you have to come here? Wanted to make sure I would die— that’s why— why else—“ Gov still has that far off look in his eyes, but the fear that radiates from him permeates the air like a thousand pound fog, and he continues mumbling.

Mumbling thimgs Congress— Adam— had written in his last few letters to them.

And Mass hears more voices, three joining Pennsylvania’s muttered comforts as Georgia starts running a hand through the mans— the boys— hair, and Gov finally goes limp, eyes sliding shut.

For a few minutes, all that’s left is having them lift the man so he can stitch up the exit wounds.

Once Mass hears himself give the all-clear, Gov is lifted, whisked away into the adjoining bathroom— they’d long claimed this room as their medical facility, and the bathroom reflected that.

He hears the shower start, faintly, realizing Georgia and Virginia had been the ones to take Gov away.

They have to clean him properly before they can bandage him. Maryland reappeared outside the bathroom door— another compression top and other clothes in his arms— they didn’t own any of those, he either found where Gov lives or just swiped them from the store or one of the younger States. He sees the clothes belong to Pennsylvania, the Eagles green that would normally piss him off just another thing his brain struggles to process as he stares down at his hands and the medical cot.

Red red red, so much red, so much blood— is he going to die? Did Mass not do enough?

Hands settle over his wrists, and he looks up.

New York and New Jersey look at him, brows furrowed in the exact same pinched expression.

Mass can only blink.

And he’s out of the cot, standing on two feet and feels two other hands scrubbing at his own under hot water, hears another person cleaning up the medical cot. He can’t tell which is which, but the grumbling from behind him tells him it’s New York cleaning the cot.

Soon, they’re all in new clothes, staring down at the sleeping Gov where he lies still in one of the beds in the room. They hooked him up to a few machines, they need to be able to know if something goes wrong.

Gov’s phone, thrown to the floor but undamaged, starts to ring.

The sound makes them jump, and they all turn to stare at it.

Virginia’s the one to pick it up, going pale at the name on the screen, “It’s Assistant.” They croak, before they click accept and hold the phone to their ear. “Hello.”

Mass doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but he sees Virginia speaking, reassuring, but he also sees the defeated look when the Old Dominion knows it’s a lost cause.

The air sizzles and crackles, and suddenly she’s there— eyes wide and near feral as Assistant shoves her phone back in her pocket.

She stares down at Gov, and they see her shoulder start to shake.

Mass can’t move— he hasn’t seen his daughter in over a hundred years, he wants to hold and comfort her because she’s— but New York does it for him.

The Empire State rests a hand on the woman’s— she had been a girl last they saw her— shoulder. She shakes more, and Mass can finally— finally— move.

He turns her, she can still look at Gov resting on the bed but it’s not the focus of her attention, and holds her to his chest. She’s taller than he remembers, but that doesn’t stop him from tucking her close like he had when her birds— her first birds— had died from age. New York and New Jersey are by her shoulders, and it’s just the four of them. They pay no mind to everyone else in the room, just as the rest ignore them.

She’s shaking, but she doesn’t cry. She simply stares down at the man lying in the bed and says, quietly,

“Thank you.”

And his chest erupts with a pain so sharp, he can only hold her tighter.

———————————————————————

Gov and Robin are gone the next day, not a single trace of them anywhere beyond a message from Gov, in the same style he always wrote in.

‘Thank you for the assistance, though unnecessary to burden yourselves. The next Meeting is set for 2 p.m on Monday, list of required attendees attached.’

Mass can hear Penn’s threats to ‘beat that stupid, reckless man’s ass’. He snickers to himself when he hears Georgia’s quiet agreement, and it feels almost like back then when their kids would vanish for hours on end, only to return injured.

Robin was perfectly fine to let Mass properly tend the injuries, but Adam always had to be held down by someone, no matter how small or grievous the injury.

The ache in his chest hasn’t gone away.

#wttt gov #wttt pennsylvania #wttt massachusetts #wttt oc #wttt assistant #welcome to the table #welcome to the table au #family ties au #wttt georgia

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vivanightcity · 6 months

Text

Name: Yash 'V' Vala

Age: 23

Gender + Pronouns: Man, he/him

Occupation: Courier and runner, both legally and less so. Largely operating in the southern parts of NC, but officially covers the whole city. If something small and physical needs to be somewhere safe and fast and undetected? He's a pretty good option.

Cyberware: Sandevistan, gills, grip feet, reinforced tendons, smuggling compartments in his legs. (Gills provide up to 4 hours of time underwater without resurfacing, given where he got them, they include a filter to help - but not eliminate - the trouble from unclean or dangerous waters. Grip feet basically makes feet prehensile and adds an extra grip surface to the bottom. The storage space used for smuggling is just small compartments, 2 x 6 inches, one in each thigh.)

Long form backstory under the cut: It's long yall, I went a bit ott with it.

His mom was from the Raven and Rats nomadic group when her family arrived in London. Settling their narrowboats in what would’ve been around Limehouse - since the flooding caused by the Thames Barrier bombing, there were a lot of new routes and waterways for the nomads.

After the fall of the thames barrier, Equinox more or less left that area of east london to rot. Seeing it as too much effort for what they’d get back. So for decades there was rampant crime in an almost entirely ungoverned and abandoned city. Officially, no one there existed. No one lived there. Despite the crowded streets of floating walkways, and salvaged tops of flooded old brick buildings turned into rare dry outcroppings, and houseboats, narrowboats, floating shacks made of salvage, littered the entire place. It was alive. Always was. Just. Not according to the government.

In the mid 2050s, there was another push to reclaim and control the area. As it grew, moving into the flooded thames, encroaching more into the highly militarized City and Westminster, there were more clashes between BCF - British Combined Forces - and citizens, as well as criminal groups that used the growing slums and waterways to their benefit.

Multiple corporations, especially those with headquarters in the city, were pushing for the government to take action and start up a new Urban Development Committee after the past ones failed, or abandoned, the area, to at least get the border pushed back.

ETB - English Tourist Board - wanted to clean up the city to make it more appealing again, especially with R&R and other trouble making groups being able to hide more easily in the sprawling river. IMA - Imperial Metropolitan Agriculture - wanted to use the large flooded space to build artificial floating island farms, to make the most out of the potential, as more and more of the Good British Soil (TM) was being worked to death and lost to city expansion. If they wanted to keep telling people to BUY BRITISH (TM) they’d need more space.

It was easy to hide the initial clashes and push back, these weren’t residents, there was no proof they were even UK citizens, so it was easy to sell it as the typical xenophobic fearmongering that kept so many in check. Only the east end wasn’t going down easy, and the BCF found themselves against a strangely, and worryingly, united force of nomadic groups who needed the river, criminal groups that thrived in the ungoverned corners, and even militia groups from a bit further east, as the thames basins flooding was felt all the way along, with many areas of South Essex not caring a shit about what was happening in Colchester and the north, but connecting - as they always did - with east london. A shared river, a shared blood, a shared history. So it was easy to redirect from action in East Anglia to a new front.

Yash’s family were not involved. Like many civilians, they were just caught in between. He wasn’t even born yet when his father was killed. Shot by BCF working as private security on behalf of EBT to scout and find historic areas that could be salvaged of worth or even turned into tourist destinations - the top of greenwich hill, the observatory itself, being a great place to start trying to reclaim for tourism, from the destruction it has seen after decades of apparent ‘misuse’ as a crowded indoor market, with the rare areas of dry actual earth and land around it turned into lush community garden. All fiercely protected by a tight community, quickly labelled as a ‘gang’ by the government. His father worked there, as a mechanic, helping people repair their boats and homewares. When the EBT scouts tried to clear people out, they were harassing people who worked there, civilians of all kinds, including the elderly and children. They moved too slow, they didn’t listen or respond as wanted, to screamed orders and threats.

His dad stepped in to argue with them, unarmed, untrained, but angry, they can’t treat people like that, and he got shot for his trouble. He was considered a hero to many of them, and his death was a spark for that mislabelled gang to maybe take the label more seriously. If they were going to treat them like criminals, they’ll defend themselves like criminals. When EBT returned to take the royal observatory by force, they were fought back. It was bloody and violent, and the locals lost a lot more people, but they won. There is a mural of those lost still in the observatory, touched up, and sometimes added to, over the decades since. His dad is front and center.

Both his older brothers knew their father very well, being 13 and 9 at the time he was killed. They both deified him, and the fight he set off, and went whole-hog anti-government and anti-corp. They’re, essentially, Rockerboys. (I just can’t remember if Rockerboy is only for that specific genre, or can be applied to any and all anti-authoritarian musicians in the cyberpunk verse? If it’s only the genre, then it doesn’t fit.). They were founding members of the Foundlings. A community gang made up of kids around their age who saw what was done to try and erase the east end, and are going to guerilla warfare street tactics the shit out of things to protect their home. The name coming from the pure numbers who were orphaned and alone after what became seen as a war with the corporations and BCF along the river.

Yash always tried to keep up with his brothers, but they wouldn’t let him, he was too young, he didn’t understand fully why they did what they did. He was raised with a hatred and distrust of corps and government, and a fierce personal anger for them taking a father he never got to know from him, but he didn’t see the level of violence that the war was. He wasn’t involved. There were still clashes, but it wasn’t the same. The metal wars were in the news, sure, but they weren’t theirs to care about. They had enough trouble on their front door step.

He got his job as a courier initially through the Mudlarks - A more recent, largely non-violent, smuggling group that operates along the river - not knowing that his brothers put some pressure in to stop him being allowed into the more criminal aspects, even with that, he eventually started pushing to get involved in running dead drops and collections along the river during low tide.

It was the mudlarks that landed him in NC. A london based gin maker - an illegal business without licensing - needed to get some out to NC because an NC based celebrity was throwing a party, and was requesting it. Deep pockets and an affinity since they’d done a world tour and tried some in London.

It was his job to see it got there safely. They’d have someone meeting the cargo at the other end, but he had to accompany it on the orbital transit. When he gets into NCX, he is indeed met, but by NCPD and orbital corp customs. He managed to duck them, but it wasn’t like he could walk back into NCX and try to leave, although NCPD seemed to drop the grudge quickly, he knew Orbital Corp still had him on the no-fly list. On the plus side, he did get a pretty decent pay day when he delivered the order to Empathy, no middle man cut for people in NC. He still transferred what was owed to the mudlarks back to them, but kept the rest.

They told him to lie low, and even gave him some contacts, largely within Pacifica, Heywood, and the City Center. Pacifica felt the most like home, so he set up shop, got in good with the right fixers, spent some time learning the fastest ways around, and built a good reputation from there.

'V' was actually the symbol his brothers used as a tag, the name they released music under, and they'd always talk a big game about how it was for the east ends victory over the BCF, and the peace they're fighting for etc. etc. but Yash knows damn well that last bit is just a line they thought up later. Typical younger brother, the second he got the chance, he took it. Decided V was his thing now. They couldn't stop him all this way from home after all.

He meets Jackie in the canonical Streetkid way, just without the Heywood local vibes.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk oc #cyberpunk 2077 oc #cyberpunk photomode #cyberpunk vp #i hope the backstory - to those who actually see that massive wall of text and give it a read - feels like it fits in the world #i did try #i cannot take a picture I like to save my damn life today #vibes of yash #my vp

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theyshareoneheartbeatnow · 5 months

Text

Lost Letter from Mal

Found near Ravka’s northern border.

Alina.

I’ve been staring at your name for almost an hour. I hate trying to chase my thoughts down this way, hunting for words. The pen feels wrong in my hand. Makes my fingers itch for a bowstring or a trigger.

But I better get to it. It’s late now, long past curfew, no sounds but snoring, Dubrov muttering in his sleep, and the wind, wrapping itself around the thin walls of the tent, clawing to get in. Supplies are tight, and I’ve wasted most of the oil in the lamp sitting here, staring at your name.

We’re two, maybe three miles south of the Fjerdan border, deep in the permafrost. I thought I knew winter, but the cold up here is something else entirely. It gets in your head.

It doesn’t help that we’re tracking a creature no one is sure exists, that no one has ever managed to get a look at. You should have seen our captain when he told us we had new orders, that we were joining up with another unit to track Morozova’s stag. None of us could keep a straight face, and when we finally got back to the barracks, Mikhael laughed so hard I thought he might sprain something. “Are we tracking fairies next? Khitkii? Elves?” No one’s laughing now, not since winter set in.

The first couple of months weren’t bad. We met up with the other trackers south of Ulensk and followed them east, then back south, skirting the Petrazoi. Some of them took the hunt seriously. Some didn’t. But we saw cropped grass in otherwise untouched fields, tracks that came from nowhere, even trace. (That’s right—we’ve seen magical deer scat. Mikhael thinks we should collect it and sell it as a cure-all. I’m not entirely sure it’s a bad idea. Or maybe the cold really is making me crazy.) But no one has actually seen the stag. Not yet. Apparently there have been units assigned to track the herd for years, depending on how cracked the current King or Darkling is. Now this Darkling wants the efforts stepped up. Rumors are he wants the stag for you. The orders came down and, mad as they seemed, we were happy to march, to get away from Kribirsk and put some distance between ourselves and the Fold.

No one’s been the same since the attack on the sandskiff. The memory is too clear in my head, too sharp—lying on my back on the deck, my body going numb, realizing the dampness pooling beneath me was my own blood, then your face lit by those last gasps of Grisha fire before everything went white. We don’t talk about it much, but that’s why no one’s moaning at me to douse the lantern. Most of us can’t sleep without one burning. Even in the day, I see people walking around hunched up, cricking their necks like they’re afraid something’s going to come at them from above. Everyone thinks that’s why I keep to myself more, why I toss and turn, why my rations go uneaten. But it’s not volcra I see when I close my eyes.

I need to sleep. I can’t afford not to be alert tomorrow. This isn’t a place that tolerates mistakes. Old Kovac used to say that you had to have a feel for tracking, that either the land spoke to you or it didn’t. Well, this land speaks—and when it does, it howls so loud I can’t hear myself think. It groans with the weight of snow, the rush of wind. That wind—the moment you step outside the tent, it grabs at you, hungry, snapping at any bit of exposed skin, gobbling up any little warmth and spitting it back out into the miserable gray sky.

A few weeks ago we got caught in a blizzard. When a storm hits that way, hard and fast, tearing down from the north, the guides call it Gruzeburya, the Brute. We knew it would wipe out any sign of the herd, but there’s no way to travel in something like that, so we made camp and hunkered down to wait. Then Pilkin stepped outside to take a piss and didn’t come back. By then it was dark and the storm was on us. All you could see were sheets and whorls of snow. You’d take one step and suddenly it was like standing in the middle of nowhere, like the camp had just disappeared.

We tied ropes to each other and waded out, looking for Pilkin, moving from tent to tent. We shouted until our throats were raw. Nothing. Finally we gave it up, pulled each other in, one after another, shaking from the cold, holding tight to that thin, frozen tether. We figured Pilkin had gotten turned around, headed in the wrong direction, away from camp. But the next morning we found him next to the mess tent. He was there all along, probably just a few feet from us, just steps from shelter. We must have walked right by him in the dark, our voices drowned by the shriek of the wind.

That’s what this place is like. You can feel the cold waiting, patient, for you to put one foot wrong. It starts to wear on you. Each morning Mikhael makes the same stupid joke about which part of him froze off in the night. I can just see you rolling your eyes at that, see you scowl and say, “You’re the only one who would miss it, you miserable oaf.” This is going to sound ridiculous To hell with it—I miss your scowl.

I need to sleep, but I know I won’t. I can’t stop seeing the look on your face that day in the Grisha tent, the fear and confusion, the blood dripping down your arm. He cut you, Alina. I saw the knife in his hand. How many times has he cut you since? How many times has he hurt you? How many times have I failed to stop him? I know if you were safe and whole you’d write.

I felt sure there would be a letter waiting for me when we finally reached Chernast, felt it in my gut, but all I found were rumors, each one crazier than the last. People are calling you a Saint or a fraud. They say you’ve been assassinated, imprisoned, betrothed to a Lantsov prince. They say there are cells beneath the Little Palace crowded with dissidents, that the Darkling has a secret group of Corporalki trained in torture that he uses to keep the Second Army in line.

We passed through a town before we entered Tsibeya. They’d built a little altar there, painted in blue and gold, piled high with gifts for the Sun Summoner, for you. I don’t know what to make of it all. I know what I saw on the Fold, in the Grisha tent, light pouring from your skin, so bright it was hard to look at, you shining like a star. You were one thing and then you were another. You were Alina and then I didn’t know you at all.

Months gone, and still no word. I’ve made formal requests, informal requests. I tried talking to one of the Grisha in Chernast, a high-ranking Heartrender named Koh. I asked if she’d had any real news, if she could get word to you. She laughed in my face. “I don’t know the Darkling’s business,” she said. “And I don’t ask.” When I petitioned the captain to see if he would write to the capital on my behalf, all he said was, “Keep your head down and do your job, Oretsev.” No, that’s not quite true. Before he dismissed me, he asked, “What is she to you anyway?” I didn’t know what to say.

I keep seeing that bloodletter dragging you through the crowd while I just stood there like a fool. What would they have done if I’d run after you? Shot me? Stopped my heart? Let me say some kind of goodbye? I’ll never know. Because when I finally got my head together, I didn’t start shouting or throwing punches. I turned to my superior officer and, while they hauled you away, I tried to explain. I made my case respectfully, reasonably, like the good soldier I am.

That can’t be the last time I’ll see you. When that thought creeps in, when it’s late like this and the lamp burns low and the flame starts to sputter, I feel every empty hollow in myself and the wind just blows through. I feel how flimsy I am, how all the things I thought were strong and whole were just held together by you.

What is she to you anyway? Here’s my answer, Captain. She’s the thing that made this all okay—the threadbare coats and the old boots and the guns that jam when you most need them to fire, the loneliness of knowing that you don’t matter, that you will never matter, the fact that you’re just another body, another uniform to be sent into the Fold or the frost, another good boy who knows his place, who does his job, who doesn’t ask questions, who will lie down and die and be forgotten. What is she? She’s everything, you dumb son of a bitch.

Alina. I want to take off walking, to brave the snow and the permafrost and head south to you. Do you know why I don’t? I’m not afraid of the dark or the cold. I’m not even afraid of being called a deserter. I’m afraid of the moment when I stand at the gates of the Grand Palace, pleading to be let in. I know that I could beg and scream and wail all night until the guards dragged me away or put a bullet in my brain just to shut me up, and those gates still wouldn’t open. I could be that close and you’d never know. Like Pilkin, shouting in the dark.

I did something stupid this morning. (I can almost hear your voice in my ear—“Why should this morning be any different?”) A few days back we got into a skirmish with a Fjerdan patrol. Out here, you can’t tell if you’re dealing with friend or foe until you’re right on top of each other. They had repeating rifles, and all we had were our old muskets. It was a miracle we came out of it with just one casualty, and that was only because we had better numbers. I killed three men—two with the rifle, one with the bow. The captain had us take their uniforms. We stripped their corpses right there in the snow. Even if we’d wanted to bury the bodies, the ground was too hard, so we left them for the wolves.

It wasn’t hard to imagine what the captain had planned. The herd is moving north, past the Fjerdan border. He wants us to cross over, right into enemy territory, and bring back the stag. This morning he offered double pay to anyone who volunteered, but before he was even finished my hand was in the air. I don’t remember what I said, just the captain clapping me on the back. Then Mikhael was volunteering, and Dubrov. I don’t think they would have said a word if I hadn’t opened my big mouth, double pay or not. You always warned me they were idiots, but I’m glad I won’t be going alone.

It’s a stupid plan. Just how far into Fjerda does he expect us to go? And even if we do locate the herd, our orders are to sight and capture the stag, not kill it. How are we supposed to get back over the border without being stopped? The captain isn’t thinking straight. He’s desperate to get south, to get back to Chernast and in front of a fire. I guess I’m desperate, too, because tomorrow I’ll put on a dead man’s clothes and make the crossing. The Darkling wants that stag. He wants it for you, so I’ll find it. It’s the one thing I can still give you. The only thing.

Almost no oil left. The flame is guttering and I guess there’s not much left to say. I’m not sure why I bothered to write this letter. We’re far from any post and I may never have a chance to send it. I don’t know that I meant to. Maybe I’ll step outside and let the wind take it. This wind is strong enough to reach you, to travel south past Tsibeya, to scale the Petrazoi, and wend its way through the streets of Os Alta. This wind won’t stop for gates or guards. It will climb your tower and rattle the window of your room, or slip through a hidden doorway and twist past the bars of your cell. It will lift your hair and brush against your cheek, and maybe you’ll look up and you’ll hear me.

Maybe that’s why I wrote this letter, Alina. Maybe it’s a promise—that I’ll survive tomorrow and the day after that, and somehow, no matter what it takes, I’ll see you safe again.

#malina #malyen oretsev #shadow and bone #leigh bardugo

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starjane312 · 1 year

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Kit Tanthalos x OC

Big Masterlist

Masterlist

Chapter 1

After Kit turned 19, Jane went to the Towns smith and let him make two rings. Jane wants to Propose. The only ones that Know are Jade and Aryk. Who are both excited. But Jane doesn’t Propose just yet, to scared of Kit’s Reaction. That night Kit comes to her Chambers.

K: Jane ?

Jane sits up in her Bed.

J: Kit ?

She sits down on the bed and Jane wraps her arms around Kit's waist.

J: What’s wrong ?

Kit doesn’t look at her.

K: Did you ever hear about the Witch in the Woods ?

J: Yes, why ?

K: I heard that a couple went to her in order to get a Child and 3 months later the Woman was Pregnant.

Jane looks at Kit and sits up.

J: What are you … Do you want to ?

Kit nods.

K: I thought about it for a while, and I actually went and talked to her.

J: You did ? Alone ?

Kit shakes her head.

K: No, I went with Jade.

J: Love.

Kit finally looks at Jane and she sees her Smile.

J: You want to start a Family with me ?

Kit smiles and looks at her.

K: Yes.

J: Are you sure ? You only Turned 19.

K: Yes 100% sure and I would carry it.

J: And what did she tell you ?

K: We must Pay her of course. We have to bring her a living Blood sacrifice in the form of an Animal, on a Full Moon Day for it to Work. She didn’t tell me anything else.

Kit looks at Jane. Who grabs her Hand.

J: I Love you.

Kit smiles and kisses her. Suddenly Jane gets up fast and walks to her Desk. Kit looks after her confused.

J: I wanted to wait for a little while before doing that but …

Jane takes a deep breath and sits down next to Kit. The Rings tight in her hand.

K: Jane ?

J: Well, I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know. She shares my dreams, I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets. To carry love, to carry children of our own. Hell, We are still kids, but we're so in love. Fighting against all odds. I know we'll be all right this time. You are my North, my South, my East and West, the sun of my morning and the night to my day ! And I love you just the way you are. Having you by my side is what completes me, makes me, and fulfils me. You complete me. I would rather spend one lifetime with you – than face all the ages of this world without you. I love you always forever, near and far, closer together. Everywhere I will be with you, everything I will do for you. I love you. I never wish to be parted from you, from this day on. I love you so, so much. I need to make you happy, for me to even have a chance at being happy. You’re Mine and I’m yours entirely. Will you marry me ?

Kit is crying. Jane is Crying. She opens her Hand and shows her the Identical Silver Rings. Kit nods.

K: Yes, Oh god I love you Yes

She throws herself into Jane’s Arms. Jane kisses her. She takes the Ring and Puts it on Kits Ring Finger. Kit takes hers and puts it on Jane’s Hand. They kiss again and lay down together. She lays her Head on Jane’s Chest and looks up at her.

K: I love you.

J: I love you more and we will go to that Witch.

She hesitates for a second.

J: What kind of animal should we bring ?

K: A chicken ?

J: Yeah, we will need Jades help with that.

They both laugh

J: maybe after we could go away just away form all this.

Kit looks at Jane.

K: What ?

J: You know, to a Village behind the Woods and live a normal live.

Kit shakes her Head.

K: No I can't do that to my Mother. She can't loose another persaon that she Loves.

Jane Nods

J: Ok I understand.

They hug and then fall asleep.

They keep the engagement a secret and only tell Jade and Aryk. The next Full moon night they do as they said and with the Help of Jade catch two Chickens. They carry the Basket and a bag full of Gold to the Witch. When they Arrive, the witch opens the Door.

Wi: Ah good, you came.

Jane hands her the Chickens.

Wi: You both go inside, lay the gold on the Table and Drink the Tea. The Right one is for the one that will Carry the Child. After that wait.

They go inside and do as they were told. The Tea tastes good. After They finished it, they sat down on the Sofa. After a few Minutes, the Witch comes back inside.

Wi: Now discard all your clothing and sit in the Circle.

They lay their clothes on the sofa and sit in the Circle of Blood that she drew on the floor.

Wi: Who drank the Right Tea ?

K: Me.

The Witch Nods and starts drawing something on Kits back and Arms with the Blood. After that she goes to Jane and does the same.

Wi: Now hold out your Right hands.

Jane raises Her hand to the side and the Witch takes a Knife.

J: Uh ?

After a Pointed look of the Witch Jane shuts her Mouth and Looks a Kit. The witch makes a cut in both of their Palms. Then she Presses their hands together. And starts Chanting. After a few Minutes The witch pulls their Hands apart but keeps them connected at the wrist and the Blood pools in their palms. The witch keeps chanting and a big Blob of Blood flies in the air, swirls around and then flies onto her abdomen before disappearing inside the flesh. She keeps chanting for a few Seconds and stops.

Wi: It should be done. If you bleed the next time you must come back and bring a larger animal.

Jane and Kit nod. The witch gives them a wet rag, a bowl with water and bandages.

Wi: Wash yourselves, wrap your hands and then go.

She disappears in a Room. Jane smiles at Kit. They Wrap each other's hands.

J: Turn around let's get that blood off of you

Kit turns around and Jane washes the Blood of her Arms and her Back. Kit does the same for her. After they get Dressed and walk back to the Castle. They sneak inside and lay in Jane’s bed.

K: I hope it works.

J: Me too.

They kiss and fall asleep.

But it Didn’t work. The day kit bleed she went to Jane with Tears in her eyes.

J: What happened ? Why are you Crying ?

K: It didn’t work.

Jane hugs her.

J: Then we will Try again. And we won’t stop Trying.

Kit nods in her shoulder.

J: I love you, never Forget that.

K: Never.

They Kiss.

And they tried again with a Goat. It again didn’t work. And then with a Cow. After that they felt helpless, and Kit didn’t want to keep going. So, they Stopped. Jane was Understanding Of Course.

#kit tanthalos #kit tanthalos xOc #Kit Tanthalos x reader #willow #jade claymore #Aryk Tanthalos #elora danan #thraxus boorman #madmartigan #graydon hastur

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bardic-tales · 1 year

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30 DoWB: Day 4: Cataclysms

Today's exercise was about creating landmarks that would appear in the world. I went into this knowing a few things that I wanted to add to Cirel, but I never really planned the reason behind their formations.

This is where the map I'm creating helped. This is only the first part. There will be a second part to this tomorrow.

Exercise 1: Features and Scars

For 15 minutes, jot down some of the Really Big Land Features you want in your story and just think "what if that were made by…." Write down a couple of causes for those features and scars. Stick it all into your notebook. Which scars are slow-force scars (like plate tectonics), and which are fast-forces (anything that takes less than 10,000 years is medium-to-fast in geological scales).

The following landmasses are not included: the Dragontalon Mountains, Ley-line Tears, the Olessan Basin, Northern Ocean, Sea of Fangs, and some of the rivers that I haven't talked about yet.

Crimson Tears - Formerly Nyskel Lake as the lake was destroyed by the Children of Eternity using blood magick in Flight of the Dragon. Rich with Iron and gives it its bloody appearance. Guarded by Brennan Draig, the once proud Silver Dragon. He now watches over the ruins of Adwen ferch Afan castle, a statue, and tomb. Magi on the shore treat the water through magic and a waterwheel, turning it into drinking water. Fast force

Frigid Wastes - Large Space debris hit this area. Plunged Cirel into an impact winter over a 60,000 year span. Lead to the decline of the red dragons but lead to the rise of the Black and Silver Dragon clans who became adapt at surviving in the cold. Elder Dragons are drawn to this place to pass onto the ven plane. slow-force

Northern Glaciers - During the impact winter, ice formed on the mountains to the North, leading to glacial formation. There are still glaciers within the mountains separating the Eastern Kingdom (placename) from the Drakl Empire. This is what created the landmasses and ice sheets the Drakl Empire lives upon. Slow Force

Nyskel Lake - Rumor has it that this lake was created by Amés’ tears. This lake, however, was created by the Northern Glaciers moving south and retreating. It was to the island that Adwen ferch Afan castle was built upon. Home to the Draig flight, an ancient clan of Silver Dragons that date back to the impact event. Slow force

Olessan Peatland - As the Glaciers retreated and the Olessan Region became warmer, slow-moving rivers formed. Over time, the basin became wetter and became suitable for only certain plants to grow. These plants are hard to break down, so their remains accumulate and become peat. Fast force.

Ruins of Eneth - Alystin Torrath, Brennan Draig, and their allies stopped the Enethians from using dragon tears to fuel their civilization. As the Enethians fought back, their magic would act as a mana bomb and explode their continent, exterminating all life. fast force

#writeblr #30 day worldbuilding #worldbuilding #wip: cold as ice

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libradoodle1 · 2 years

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Libra! Happy belated birthday I’m sorry my present is so late, I think @youwerenevermine teased it to you, a drabble to go with her gorgeous moodboard. 🥰 Since it’s taking forever, here is a belated gift— a teaser!

Sweet, lovely, beautiful Dany though was trying. it had been her idea. She wanted to get him back to nature, since he had moved south from Winterfell to King's Landing for her, for her job and sh eknew he missed the cold North. They couldn't get all the way up to Winterfell so the Vale was the closest thing.

He had other plans for his birthday, but kept his mouth shut, as she did the best she could. Each time he tried to change the subject, to get to a point where, maybe he could do what the'd been planning to do for the last six months, and Dany did something to upend the situation.

In her quest to give him the perfect birthday, Dany was somehow messing it up.

Bless her, he thought, as she had zero idea.

He thought of the ring buried deep in his inner coat pocket; ecah time she'd gone to shake out the coat, he'd pounced on it. After three days, he suspected she just thought him oddly attached to the garment. It had been in his head for months he would propose on his birthday. Knowing Dany, she would do somethin gspecial as she had the entire five years they were together, and he would turn the tables on her and ask her to marry him, as the best birthday gift he could ever have.

"Dany," he began. He was going to do it. Right here, right now. With dried blood on his face and a filthy smelly dog and mountain goat shit scattered through the camp. He stood up and went over to stop her from trying to make the terrible camp coffee she'd gotten at the sporting goods store. It tasted like oil. "Dany, you're freezing, here." He had a great idea; he took off his coat and went to drape it over her shoulders, but she stood so fast, she knocked him backwards.

"Oh! I'm sorry!"

He wheezed, having hit a log on the ground hard. "No problem!" Bloody seven hells.

Dany looked upa t the sky, a fresh rumble of thunder. "Seven hells!" she screamed, stomping her foot in a most un-Dany-like fashion. Her silver braids were a knotted, dirty mess on her shoulders and she was almost in tears. "I looked at the weather, I swear I did!"

"We weren't planning on coming this high up," he tried to comfort her, but she wouldn't hear it.

"This has been a diaster, I'm sick of it!" She kicked over the coffee can, sending it into the flames, which spout up and caught. They both stared at it. Maybe it was oil. She sniffed, her nose red and slightly swollen from the cold. She was getting sick too, but he wouldn't tell her that. She refused to believe it.

He stood up and reached for her, drawing her close. "Dany, shhh, it's alright. It's been fun!"

"You're lying."

"No I'm not, you know I can't lie!" And indeed, he couldn't, because his ears were turning pink and he was trying to avoid her piercing violet eyes, accusing him. He heaved a deep sigh. "I think maybe camping just isn't our thing."

"But it's supposed to be fun!"

"Hmm." Yes, but this definitely wasn't. He scratched his beard. "Maybe it's the Vale." It was cursed or something. It was just rocky and cold and rainy. Definitely not the mountains in winterfell.

Dany snuggled into his chest, her voice muffled. "I wanted you to have a good birthday."

"It is a good birthday!"

"Jon, the mountain goats ran off with your cake!"

Aye, they did. They'd discovered it this morning when she wanted to present it to him, but found it missing. Or else Ghost ate it. He was betting Ghost ate it.

Omg, Mags!!! 😂😂😂😂❤️❤️❤️

First off, thank you so much! I had no idea the camp story you were going to write was for me! 🥹. Erika told me and I just chalked it up to Mag’s and her million one ideas! So thank you making me one of the million and ones 😍🤭

I’m a sucker for camp fics. And humor! Cracky humor, specifically, and this made me giggle. The oil coffee that he’s forcing himself to drink, the bloody face, awful weather, being knocked on his ass…😂 Poor Jon! But ofc he loves his Dany so much so he goes along for the proposal 😍

However, I wasn’t prepared for the goat running away with his cake!!! Wth???!!! 🤣🤣🤣 The image of that is too much.

Thank you so much! You’re so sweet to write a story for me. This teaser was so funny I can’t wait to read the entire thing.

#😂😂😂#🐐🎂#Dany tried #this was so funny #i can’t wait for the rest #thank you 😘#jonerys #jonerys drabble

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illyrianhighfaerie · 2 years

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A Court of Flowers and Starlight

Rating: E | Multiple Chapters | Tamlin's Daughter, Enemies to lovers, everyone is gay | Read on AO3 | Read on Wattpad

Summary: Dahlia Sìdhe is the daughter of the Spring Court's High-Lord, and that burden has always hovered above her head. Besides her own court, little is known about her existence – the other Courts were informed of the birth of a child to Tamlin's blood, along with the fact that the Court was being restored slowly, and that had been it.

That was 63 years ago.

In the meantime, a new agreement had been settled by North and South, and all seemed well for the time being. Every five years, one of the Night Court sentinels are sent to the South to watch over the lands that had been left without a ruler for so long. The field became a home for monsters and creatures of the worst kind, and as long as the sentinels did not get in the way of the High-Lord, they were welcome to do their rounds.

Even with outbursts and fights between courts, peace has ruled over Prythian since the war against Hybern.

But the tides in the West had changed, and war was brewing once more.

Warnings for graphic violence, gore, death, mentions of sexual assault, torture, incest, misogyny, ableism, pedophilia and self-harm.

Special thanks to @4nner @isterofimias @northern-star-polaris

Chapter One

Running was everything she could possibly do. For a time, she lost track of herself, focusing on not falling into those woods as she put space between herself and the creature that followed. Only when safety was a possible thought, did she stop, settling for the nearest tree to lean on. She was sure that, if she did not die from her head ripped off, she'd die from exhaustion or from her heart bursting with how fast it was beating inside her own chest. But the roar that came from meters behind was just a reminder that she had to keep going, even if her legs felt like giving out at any moment. She got away from the tree, taking a deep breath as if that was what her body was missing: breath, and not rest after what felt like hours of running away.

The girl started to run again, her bare feet against the cold earth, jumping the roots and moving away from depressions of the ground in order to keep on the same path towards the border. If she crossed it, she was reasonably confident the beast wouldn't follow and, from there, she just had to wait until it got tired of waiting for her as well and went away. The sun, however, was already setting, and maybe she wouldn't have to wait too long, for the beast would most likely just leave her behind for the other monsters that hid in those woods to feast upon her body.

Her almost-white blonde hair moved when she turned her head to look behind and try to see if the creature was far, but her eyes widened when she heard a grunt close. The girl did not know if she had grown unweary of her surroundings by the noise, or if a new tree had just sprouted off of the ground, still, she slammed her body straight into the hard surface, losing balance and falling flat on her arse.

She looked forward to seeing what was the thing she had hit, expecting bark, but she saw legs — muscular and dressed in leather, and finally rose her eyes to look up and see the outlines of wings. They weren't bird-like, but shaped like those of a bat, and their bearer seemed enormous, more muscular than any of the men she had met in her life. Immediately she knew he did not belong there, and wherever he came from, definitely was far.

The male stepped forward, finally leaving the light and allowing her to see him and his long hair, his bronze skin and the scars that amounted on his face, the seven red stones he bore were gleaming. Illyrian. She finally drew two thoughts together, remembering books she read where the warrior kind was described exactly like that man, and that made him an outsider, forbidden by the treaty between the North and the South; the only reason one of the northerners could be allowed in those grounds was through the vigilance that happened every five years. Had it already come to it? She did not know, those months seemed to blend into one another, the days stitching together one after the other without her knowing when one began or the other ended.

— Are you alrig- — He started asking, stretching out his hand, but the girl took it way faster than expected, using it to help her stand on her feet.

Another roar, this time louder, and she widened her eyes again, moving to stay behind the warrior. She was sure he could protect her, the number of blades he carried said enough.

— Are you running from someone? — He tried again, and she agreed. He drew his sword almost immediately, already turning to face whatever it was that came closer.

— No! — She exclaimed, for some reason, jumping to lower his arm.

The girl looked at where she was running, swallowing dry.

— Can't you just, — She pointed at his wings. — Take me away from here?

He frowned, but puffed out a breath while pointing at his shoulders and getting closer; he knew his High-Lord would argue that he diverged from the main reason he was there, he did not truly care: — Put your arms around me and hold tight, kid.

She did as she was told, feeling his arm wrap around her waist. Without warning and with a powerful blow from his wings, he took both of them to the skies. The girl didn't know if it was the reflexes or actual fear that made her close her eyes and hide her face on her own arm, letting out a squeal and refusing to look down, or up at all. As her heart pounded inside her ears, she knew it was raw fear that commanded her actions. It was one thing to dream of flying, and a different one to actually do it; she had never felt the cold air around her that way, surrounding her body with such intense force, or felt her hair being flung in every direction the way it was at that moment. And when her ears and nose started to feel cold, she gathered a small amount of courage to open her eyes and watch the sky.

It was beautiful, she could never deny it to anyone that asked. The hues of orange and purple from the dusk became stronger every second that passed, and she was sure that no sight would ever match that first time she saw the world from above when she dared to look down, seeing the green treetops and the glades that opened all of a sudden; the small lake that shimmered like diamonds; the animals that flew and the ones that hid; every single thing she could never have seen on the ground. The girl rose her gaze to stare at the wings from the male and the way the dim light that still existed made the membranes look sheer, showing the veins and the scaring from – Mother knew – how many years of experience he had. She did not dare to touch it, though, scared of what it might feel like against her fingertips.

At last, she noticed them getting lower until they had landed on the ground. As soon as he had stopped, she almost jumped from his arms at the same moment, feeling the grass on the soles of her feet and believing that the sturdy ground was indefinitely better than the open air. She knew that if she fell, there'd be nowhere else to go.

She was sure he'd leave as soon as he found out she was fine, and with her being no longer be an issue, but it didn't stop her from turning around, swallowing hard as she stared at him. There was some rustic beauty to him, that much she could say.

— Thank you. — She declared, gaining the attention of the warrior.

He had a frown as he checked each of his blades, maybe counting if they remained in their baldrics after the flight. That same frown turned towards her when he heard her voice.

— Why did you stop me? — He inquired, his voice rougher than usual. When he took a step forward, she took one backwards. — If you were being chased by some beast, why stop me? The natural thing to do would be to let me finish it off.

The girl opened her mouth and closed it again, swallowing. Words vanishing at that moment, and she didn't know if what she said would convince him of the truth, he could very well not believe a single thing that came out of her mouth.

— I don't know... — She said, low. — I- I don't think he deserved to die. That is all.

The man continued to frown, but then he sighed, shaking his head in agreement. He did not wish to inquire any further, maybe she had instigated the animal and its reaction was a consequence of her own actions, and she probably knew that as well. She probably thought it would be improper to kill a being for its nature. That's what he told himself when he turned to look at his surroundings.

He had no idea where he was now. The time passed and in that detour from the primary task he found himself lost; he looked for the clues to where North laid, and when he'd find them, he'd just need to go through that direction and he'd find home again.

— Thank you again, sir-

— There's no need to call me sir. — He interrupted her, shaking his head, and she looked surprised.

— Some would say it's impolite not to.

He almost laughed at that, shooting the blonde girl a smirk.

— I'd say you're giving me too much credit.

The girl crossed her arms, this time, her brows furrowed. She found herself hating to go against her own education for someone else's wishes to be respected, while he found it funny that someone such as himself would be referred to as "Sir", or even "Lord" by someone like her. It was obvious from the way she spoke that some way along the line that she came from a cultured family. He still had a slight smile when he turned to ask her:

— What is your name?

— Dahlia. — She answered, breathing deeply and crouching, ripping a patch of grass from the ground next.

— I'm Cassian. — He said, and Dahlia looked at him for a second before returning her attention to her hands.

— You're from the North, right? — She asked, and he agreed with a nod. — You were doing the rounds, weren't you?

He nodded in agreement to her saying once more, like the soldier he was, but then he opened his mouth: — These lands went uncared for many years, we try to see if everything is doing well again.

Dahlia did not look at him, instead, focusing on the threads of grass between her fingers. If he had found the behaviour odd, he did not say one thing, probably thinking it was just her response to almost being killed just moments ago. Each person had a different response to that, and not all of them confronted the fact immediately. He, for example, confronted death with jokes which, most times, made people around him angry.

— Beasts exist in every Court, Cassian, not just in this one. — She said, and he frowned.

He didn't say anything, however, sighing and returning his attention to his surroundings. The sun was setting, and he turned until his left shoulder was at the sun's side, which meant the opposite side was east, and north was now ahead of him. The Illyrian did not know if he could leave the girl there, and she'd find her way back to her own home, or if he'd offer to get her there, but he turned around to watch her again, and the sadness in the way she now knelt on the ground, the back of her head turned to him as the wind knocked her hair to the side, made him regret the softness of his own heart.

Cassian shouldn't offer, he needed to get back to his own home as quickly as he could and report himself back to Rhysand and, besides, he no longer would be able to keep in the sneezes that place made him feel building up on the back of his head at all times. But he finally opened his mouth again.

— So, where do you live? — He asked.

She turned her attention back to him.

— I have no house. — She answered, looking down at the grass in her hand, as if desensitized to that own piece of sorrow. — Not anymore.

Fuck.

— You surely must have somewhere to stay. I can take you there, and you'll be safe.

Dahlia got up, shaking her head and cleaning her hands by passing it on the sides of her simple dress.

— If I did, do you think I'd be running in the woods from some monster?

He was going to do it. He knew. It wasn't in his right or place to do so, and Rhysand would most definitely become puzzled at the reason he had done it, but Cassian placed his hands at his hips, lowering his head as he sighed. If he didn't offer, he'd hate himself even more than if he had.

— Alright, listen. You have a choice. You can stay here, or you can go with me. — It certainly wasn't the softest way to offer refuge, but she frowned in confusion, not taken aback by his stiffness in the slightest.

— Go where? — She almost laughed. It was craziness to even accept the offer from a stranger, no matter the circumstances of their meeting. Maybe he'd kill her and leave her body in the woods, or maybe sell her to a whore house, the possibilities were endless. And yet, he had saved her without even knowing her.

He froze at the question before revealing:

— To the Night Court.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #fanfic #original character #cassian #a court of flowers and starlight

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