#and she responds it with ''at least he is a better heir than you''

[reverseflashes]

#imagine confronting your mother about a secret older brother you never knew #and she responds it with ''at least he is a better heir than you'' #like i hate the dead mother trope just as much as anyone but she needs to stay dead fr #justice league throne of atlantis #ocean master #orm marius #queen atlanna #i know all of orm's lines in this movie word by word is this normal #i lose it every time i rewatch this scene!!!!!!!

[fayes-fics]

A Beneficial Arrangement

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A marriage pact with a Viscount. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), loss of virginity, vaginal sex. Bickering, developing relationship.

Word Count: 6.1 k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill from HERE (Anthony and a headstrong independent reader make an unconventional marriage pact). Sorry it's taken so long to write this, but I hope you enjoy! <3

It’s a dreary, rather ordinary Tuesday in spring when your life takes a turn.

“The Viscount is in want of a wife.” 

That statement is all you hear as you walk past the drawing room where your mother is taking tea with her good friend, the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton.

“My eldest needs a husband,” your mother responds, offering you as if merely chattel; bile rises indignantly as she does so. “But I fear she is far too outspoken to be a suitable Viscountess.” 

You sigh in relief, ear pressed to the closed door now.

“Oh, believe me, nothing would be a better match for my darling Anthony than someone who will challenge him, stand up to him,” Violet peals a knowing laugh. “We should arrange a meeting.”

——

3 days later.

He assesses you with a cool eye as your gaze drifts briefly over to both of your mothers, watching expectantly from a nearby table in the tea shop.

“You should know I will only be taking a wife to fulfil my societal duty,” he sniffs airly. “However, I do not expect you to produce an heir. The title may pass to my younger brothers; they are more inclined to form romantic attachments than I. Their offspring can inherit this title; it feels like a curse anyhow,” he adds quieter, his tone mildly embittered.

“Well, on your attitude to marriage, I can wholeheartedly agree,” you state, stirring your tea primly. “I do not wish to be shackled. I wish to remain free. I shall marry, as there is no other path available to me, but I do not plan nor do I ever want to be someone's wife.” You utter the word with disdain as if it is toxic. 

His admittedly very handsome face transforms into one of surprise, a faint dot of colour on his cheeks as he peers at you as if assessing you in a new light.

“What?” You frown at him, his silent stare becoming too heavy to bear as his interest and engagement intensify.

“You are the first woman I have ever met who shares my outlook,” he confesses, seemingly caught off-guard. “It is so utterly refreshing… and, frankly, novel.” He pauses to pass his fingers slowly over his lips in a way that makes your stomach swoop, even if you refuse to acknowledge such even to yourself. “I do believe we should meet again to discuss this further,” he concludes.

And thus, you find yourself with the suit of one Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, both of your mothers overjoyed at the prospect.

——

9 days later.

“If I must marry, you are the most tolerable woman I have met, I must concede,” he states nonchalantly as you meet to promenade. 

It’s quite an opening line for only your third meeting, even for someone as renownedly blunt as the Viscount.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Viscount Bridgerton,” you drawl pointedly with a raised eyebrow, subtly hinting how his greeting may have been lacking.

He chuckles, a flash of what looks like admiration in his dark eyes.

“As such,” he continues, “I would not be averse to a martial arrangement with you. An agreement, a pact if you will, based on our mutual understanding of what we both want from such an endeavour.”

The speed and pragmatism of his apparent proposal do not surprise you in the least. In fact, you are actually grateful for the lack of ceremony around it. If you must marry, you prefer it be swift.

“Did you mean what you said last week? In the tearoom?” You quiz as you begin to walk shoulder to shoulder through Hyde Park, the early summer air heavy with the scent of roses.

“Every word,” he replies solemnly.

“Then, I suppose this is a beneficial arrangement for me too,” you shrug as if agreeing about the weather, not the very course of your future. But there is something about this man that feels inevitable, fateful, but not in a way you dread. Also, his face is so very pleasing. If you must indeed marry, at least the view across the dinner table will be nice.

“Then it is decided,” he nods decisively, a brusque smile passing over his lips. “I so greatly appreciate your candidness with regard to this matter. It makes the whole business so much easier to deal with.”

He offers a hand to shake, and you take it, bemused, shaking on the deal, pretending this mere touch doesn't make every butterfly in your stomach roar to life.

“I shall make the arrangements swiftly,” he states, again with a short smile and nod.

You are married within three weeks.

——

6 weeks later.

‘‘What on earth is this?” he practically spits as he rounds the corner of Bridgerton House onto the back lawn.

“What does it look like?” you sass, tearing the netted visor from your face.

“It looks an awful lot like my wife is fencing,” his reply dripping with conceited judgement.

“Well, I’m glad to know you do not need glasses, husband,” you respond dryly, nodding to accept the excuses of the butler you were sparring with, who suddenly seems very keen to scurry away now the Viscount has arrived.

“Perkins, do not think this has gone unnoticed,” Anthony calls pointedly after the retreating man.

“Leave him alone!” you bark, taking your husband aback with your ferocity, him turning to you and almost gaping in surprise. “Perkins must do my bidding as lady of the house, and I told him to fence with me,” you elucidate, keen that the innocent party not suffer any consequences for your decision. 

“Women do not fence,” he sniffs, changing the subject somewhat.

“This one does,” you riposte, spearing your epee tip into the grass to remove the suede gloves.

“It is unbecoming of a Viscountess,” he adds almost haughtily.

“Good thing such matters hold no truck with me,” you shrug, knowing you are likely provoking him. 

To hell with what is appropriate for a titled lady. The title, and all of its stifling rules and expectations, is the very last reason you married the man standing before you. No, the reason is far, far more simultaneously complex and simple than that. He excites you—in ways you don't even want to admit to yourself.

It’s not something you would divulge to anyone, but arguing with your new husband has become your new favourite pastime. On the rare occasions you see him, that is. Since your wedding day, you have mostly been ships passing at the dinner table; otherwise, your lives have been very separate. At night, his rooms are at the other end of the long hallway from yours, and his days are apparently filled with business obligations. While the utter freedom to fill your days as you wish has been a blessing, it’s also been perhaps a touch lonely.

When you do see Anthony, you invariably end up clashing about something. And, well, it’s often the highlight of your week. A thrill zipping down your spine as you do so. The only person you have met who can keep up with your verbal sparring. It makes you excited, breathless, dizzy, a fizz low in your belly that feels entirely beguiling. Today is no different; you feel that same sensation as he stares at you, arms crossed, exasperated.

“Well, if you insist upon this rebellious pastime,’ he sighs after a few beats, snatching your epee, “the least you can do is improve your grip,” he grouses, rolling his eyes.

You startle as he crowds into your back, a warm hand wrapping around yours as he passes you the blade and demonstrates a different way to wield it that you concede feels better. The spike of victory in your bloodstream from winning the argument morphs into something entirely different as he stands behind you, his breath tickling your ear and the tendrils of your hair as he provides instruction. 

You try to take the details on board, but your thoughts scatter with his overwhelming proximity. How have you never noticed the stirring amber notes of his cologne before? Or how very broad his chest is compared to his slim hips? Perhaps because this is the closest you have ever been, his body heat seeping into your spine, your heart fluttering hard against your ribs. You can’t decide if this effect your husband can have on you is the best or the worst thing. Somehow, it feels like both.

——

1 month later.

You are both relieved to avoid most of the season on the pretence of being on honeymoon, but inevitably, the time comes when you must debut as a married couple. Speculation about you growing ever since Lady Whistledown breathlessly reported your nuptials, a nearly unknown minor Ton member rapidly snaring the most eligible of perenially eligible bachelors.

So when you enter your first ball as Viscountess Bridgerton, all eyes are upon you. You feel mildly uncomfortable bedecked in jewels and a heavy silk dress, but know refinement is of importance at events such as these. You just cannot wait to get home and get out of them. This will never be your preferred milieu, a sentiment you apparently share with your husband—underneath his calm, unruffled exterior, you sense his dampened disquiet.

“Smile politely, nod in acknowledgement, but don't engage for any longer than necessary,” he counsels under his breath as an inevitable hush falls over the room when your arrival is announced. You are grateful for his steadfast support, his arm looped reassuringly through yours as you follow his advice, knowing he has navigated these waters much more than you have needed to. “The best thing to do is seem frightfully ordinary,” he explains quietly as you complete a circuit of the room. “They are ravenous for gossip; if none is to be had, their preoccupation will swiftly wane.”

Indeed, the initial excitement about your appearance soon dies down as other, perhaps more flamboyant, guests arrive. People approach expressing surprise about your union, but once he economically explains you just knew you were right for each other, they often quickly move on, seeming almost disappointed at the lack of apparent scandal.

As the evening progresses, you school your tongue at some of the barbs you overhear, more out of a wish to be left alone rather than any adherence to social rules. Most of the things that appear to preoccupy the Ton you have little patience for. As Anthony spends some time with business acquaintances, you eventually find yourself in the company of the female members of his family, whom you are quickly becoming very fond of with every passing day in their company. Particularly his benevolent mother and headstrong sister, Eloise. In fact, the latter is the primary witness to the flare of your true nature, fatigue overriding your ability to remain silent.

Cressida Cowper is being particularly venomous about a mutual acquaintance. Eloise is quick with her witty tongue in reply, and you cannot stop yourself from piling on your scorn as well.

“Perhaps if the braiding of your hair were less painful, it would allow you greater empathy,” you retort before you can stop yourself.

Eloise’s responding guffaw sprays lemonade all over Cressida, whose shocked mien is the last thing you see before she turns heel to attend to her ruined dress in private.

“That was sensational!” Eloise wheezes in awe as she blots the remnants of her beverage from her chin.

You sigh.

“It was unwise,” you correct, knowing you have probably just made an enemy of one of the worst gossips of the Ton.

“It was wholly accurate and justified,” a cool, authoritative voice cuts in, and you look up to find your husband before you, a rapt glint in his eye that makes your lungs feel tight. It appears he may have also been witness to the moment.

Eloise’s eyes briefly ping-pong between the two of you, and then she loops an arm into the crook of Anthony’s as you continue to gaze at each other, cataloguing something new about each other that you mutually admire.

“I like her,” Eloise nods at you. “Excellent choice of wife, brother,” she grins.

It breaks the spell between you but seems to further ingratiate you with at least one member of his family. And that makes you feel light as air in a way you don't fully understand.

——

2 months later.

Funnily enough, it’s another random Tuesday when your life takes a complete turn. Yet again, you find yourself in another heated debate with your husband of barely twelve weeks. This time while sojourning at your country estate, Aubrey Hall.

“Must you?” Anthony gripes, standing up from his desk and rounding towards where you stand.

“Must I what? Speak my mind?” you bite back, hands on your hips.

“Be so damn argumentative,” he expounds, hands also on hips, chest heaving a little, “urghh, you are so aggravating!”

“Same!” You shoot back. “I have never met a man quite as disagreeable as you,” you add, not realising as you argue that you have taken steps closer and are now huffing irritated breaths close to each other's faces.

“Why did you agree to marry me then?” he snarls, his gaze suddenly fixated on your bottom lip, unbeknownst to you, it’s glistening and swollen from biting in irritation at his demeanour.

“Right now, I have no earthly idea,” you volley in return, but your pounding heart gives away the real reason. No one makes you feel quite as alive as Anthony, even when he is driving you up the wall, like right now. “Why did you agree to marry me, seeing as I am so very ‘aggravating’?” you spit, parroting the word back at him.

His stare blisters as he draws himself to full height right before you.

“We made a pact,” he huffs, “this is duty, nothing more.” 

But the way he breathes and holds himself speaks to something else. A war in his body and mind. The maelstrom in his eyes belying his words… and then it hits you. So singular it knocks the wind from your lungs. This is desire. He wants you. In all the ways a man can want a woman. 

And damn it all to hell if you don’t feel precisely the same.

“For me as well,” your tart, mendacious reply is bitter on your tongue.

The tension in the air is taut like a cord, ready to snap. You both toe to toe, noses almost touching, laboured breaths as you stare each other down like some game to see who will capitulate first. 

“I do believe we are at an impasse… wife,” the last word dripping with disdain, but he is leaning closer than he ever has, his lips fractional inches from yours.

“It would appear so…,” you concur, “…husband,” you roll the last word slowly, lingering on the end of the first syllable as if it is both a treat and a bitter pill on your tongue.

“I have been raised a gentleman,” he hisses, “but there are times that you test my resolve.”

“I do nothing of the sort!” you decry, knowing you are lying even to yourself now. Somedays lately, you live to simply push his buttons, just to see what he will do. “And resolve of what? To not be a good husband? Because I can tell you, forthright, you are doing a wonderful job of being a terrible husband,” you goad, knowing you are poking the proverbial beast now.

“I give you a wonderful home to run as you please, I give you the freedom to pursue whatever pastimes you wish, I let you speak your mind. As Viscountess, the world is yours. What else could you possibly want in a husband? I do not ask you to do things, wifely things, that I could,” he warns, his voice buzzing low. “I could demand you submit to my will; it is my right,” he growls.

A flame behind your ribs catches fire, even as your eyes flash indignant.

“You do not wish for that sort of wife; you told me as much yourself.” It’s a heated whisper, much breathier than you mean it to be.

“A man can change his mind,” he gravels, “same as a woman can change hers if she wishes.”

“What made you change your mind?” 

He fixes you with a hypnotic, weighted stare.

“You.”

The way that one word drips from his lips tilts your whole existence. It’s so loaded you don’t know what to say. Unmoored, your system awash with chemicals, your mind flooding with images of sketches you have seen of men and women together. Of what the marital act can entail. It’s something you believed would not ever be a part of your marriage, your life, even, but now…. 

Now your handsome husband is staring at you, ragged breaths, face wild, telling you he has changed his mind. Maybe he wants that sort of marriage, that sort of union. Something gallops hard in your chest as he steps away, as if wrongly intuiting you are about to turn down his suit, and something bubbles up from deep inside you.

“Do not dare,” you growl.

His mouth falls open in shock.

“Do not tease me so and leave me wanting,” you continue with a boldness and timbre you barely recognise as your own. “‘Tis crueller to build false hope than to take what you want,” you sniff and stare him down, so wholly decisive in your intentions and desires. If this is the nudge he needs, you’ll give it.

“You want me to exercise my conjugal rights?” he falters, appearing utterly stunned.

You don’t answer; just do one thing, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. You close the last few inches and press your lips to his. 

They are soft and plush against yours, making your insides warm and glowing. Then, Anthony makes a noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. So ferociously, you squeak into his mouth as he opens your lips and slides his tongue over yours, his strong arms pulling you into an embrace so you are enveloped by his warm body.

Good lord.

You feel like you are drowning in him as he grabs your jaw, directing the kiss, turning it into something wholly other. Your lips move endlessly together as you both greedily take from the other for what seems like ages. When you pull apart, you are both heaving breaths and staring at each other, almost confused.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” you snarl, wanting to rip every item of clothing from your body and his.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds airily.

And then you crash into each other again. Drinking desperately from each other's mouths, powerless to resist whatever flame draws you together. 

He walks you backwards as your tongues tangle, and you startle slightly as your bottom hits his imposing desk. Hands loop around your thighs, and he hoists you into the surface, never breaking the intoxicating kiss.

He tries to step between your legs, but your column dress is too tight to allow it. You attempt to wiggle the hem upwards as you kiss, then, with a frustrated grunt, he bats your hands away and, using a strength that shocks you, rips the silk material asunder from the hem to your hip.

“I loved this dress!” you decry over his lips, unwilling to admit you’d destroy every single dress you own if he just kept kissing you like this.

“I’ll buy you another,” he dismisses, pushing your thighs wide with his hands. “I’ll buy you as many as you want.” 

“You had better,” you challenge, scarcely able to believe you even have the wherewithal to debate with him, especially as this is the first time a man has ever touched your bare leg.

He pulls back from the kiss to stare intently into your eyes as his fingertips trace from your kneecap up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You don’t mean to, but you tremble, having never been touched this way before. You gasp as his palm cups the apex of your thighs, his hand feeling so warm through the thin silk protecting your modesty, his fingers swirling circles over your patch of hair as the heel of his palm presses against your slit.

“I can feel your heat,” he hisses.

You can barely process what is happening, your body rioting as he touches and teases you, staring you down. Instinctively, you reach for the tiny buttons at your hip, but your hands fall away as he flicks his middle finger downwards and catches a nub that makes your body buck.

“Anthony,” it falls from your lips unbidden with a halting breath. It may well be the first time you have uttered his first name in his presence.

He groans at the sound. “Please, always say my name like that,” he pleads through gritted teeth.

So you repeat it, the same intonation, even as that finger drags slowly up and down over the swollen pearl between your legs, undone by how good it feels.

“Are you chaste?” he inquires; it’s not judgemental in tone, just pure curiosity, his ministrations lighter.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, “but I do know of the marital act”, you add, wanting him to know you are not entirely innocent.

“Hmm,” he hums, looking at once thoughtful and blistering, his finger moving more insistently again, “I am glad to hear it. Then you shall not be entirely shocked by what is about to happen?”

“So… we are to undertake it? The act?” you stutter, his finger making you feel so good you have to bite your lip.

But he doesn’t answer your question directly. 

“Wife, how attached are you to these undergarments?” his tone almost idle, cocking his head to the side as his gaze lingers over them.

You shrug practically. “I have many exactly the same.”

Then, you gasp loudly as the sound of silk tearing fills the room. You are quaking as the warm air of his study swirls around your exposed, damp slit. He shocks you by dropping to his knees before you. Pushing your thighs wide on his desk and looking up at you with burningly intense eyes, he presses his face to your flesh, inhaling deeply, his nose buried in your pubic hair before his tongue peeks out and nudges the swollen nub he was teasing through the silk. 

Your mouth drops open, and something inhuman escapes your lungs. Then he does it again, this time enclosing the whole area between his lips and sucking hard on your flesh, tongue curling and ploughing into your folds. The heat, the suction, the muscular swipe of his tongue feels so good your mind blanks out, a tremor in your splayed thighs that he holds forcibly open with warm hands. He keeps doing so for a few moments as your fingernails curl hard into the edge of his desk, scarcely able to do anything but writhe and gently moan. IIdly you think upon all of your curious research, never once had you heard of or read about a man doing as he is now, placing his head between his wife’s thighs and sniffing, drinking from her body.

“You are plenty ready for me, wife,” he huffs, his warm breath tickling your responsive folds, little ripples of pleasure deep inside scattering your thoughts. “Are you averse to me taking you right here?” he waves a hand nonchalantly at his large, imposing carved wooden desk.

“I… I rather thought su-such things could only ha-happen in a bed,” you confess stiltedly, a quiver in your voice.

He smirks up from between your thighs, turning his head to kiss the fragile skin there. “Oh, no, wife. We can fuck anywhere we please…” he pauses and looks sincere, “however, should you prefer a bed…”

“Here is fine,” you rush out, so very keen to have your husband make a woman of you. As if leaving this room may break the spell you are under. Location be damned. You just want to know him. He smirks again, placing a final quick kiss on your flesh, looking very pleased at your response.

“I wholeheartedly concur,” he rumbles as he hoists himself back up to stand, stepping inwards to rock his clothed pelvis against your pulsing nub. There is something hot and swollen in his trousers now, and you realise this must be his member. 

“Show it to me,” you enthuse, nodding at the insistent bulge.

“So very impatient all of a sudden, wife,” he scolds with a bemused chuckle, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand over the bump. It feels so hot and steely even through the fabric. “Unbutton me,” he orders casually, pointing to the fastening at his hip. 

Exuberantly, you undo them quickly, keen to see if his member matches the sketches you have viewed. As the front of his trousers falls away, he quickly pushes down his white underwear. There, nestled in a thatch of dark hair at the base, is your husband's cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. It seems more considerable than the drawings you have seen, and you are temporarily taken aback by how red and almost angry it looks at the tip.

“Go ahead, touch it,” Anthony encourages, and with a slight tremble in your fingers, you reach forward and make contact with him.

“Oh!” you exclaim without thought, “it’s so soft, your skin, and so hot!” 

He chuckles warmly at your assessment. “Indeed,” he huffs as you wrap your hand instinctively around it, feeling its weight and mass in your palm.

“This will not fit inside me, surely?” you blurt out.

“It will, I promise,” his tone mellow, tinged with understanding even as his breath staccatos when you start to move your hand, the instinct to rub inexplicable, but seemingly precisely what he wants. “Yes, perfect,” he rasps, eyes closing and tongue peaking out to lick his lips.

The odd mix of total honesty and soft appreciation between you as you acquaint yourselves with each other's bodies seems very apt, as if this is the only way such a development would ever transpire. And you realise, as you cradle his most intimate parts, that you trust this man with your very being. Despite your bickering, there is a thread of mutual respect under it that makes you feel safe, seen, and known in a way that no other person has.

“Take me now, husband,” you rattle through your teeth, watching a bead of something sticky form at the tip of his cock as you squeeze him in hypnotic, repetitive motions. The sight makes something in your body turn to fiery liquid, wanting him and that substance inside yourself in a way that doesn't make logical sense. 

He growls at your words, grabbing your hand away from his cock and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the back of your knuckles as your eyes lock, a chaste, almost romantic interlude.

But then his hands grab your hips and haul you almost roughly to the very edge of the desk, your torn dress framing your splayed thighs, his trousers around his ankles as he takes his cock in hand and rubs the tip over your folds of flesh in a way that makes you moan under your breath.

“Are you certain?” he checks, even as he pants anticipatorily.

“God, yes,” you confirm, craving him in a way you have never felt about anything before. An urgent hook tugging deep inside your loins, calling to him like a siren song.

“Watch,” he murmurs darkly, his other hand rounding the back of your neck so your gaze is tilted down to where his cock nudges your opening.

So you do, as does he. Stare down to where your body meet, hissing loudly as his tip slips inside your soaked channel. Your eyes want to roll back at the sheer overwhelming sensation of it, but equally, it's such an enthralling sight that you can’t look away.

He moans loudly, lewdly, decadently as he pushes further into your heat, pausing to readjust your legs wider and tilt your pelvis more open.

“This next part may hurt, darling,” he whispers quietly, the first time he has ever used such an affectionate term for you, making your heart race. 

“It's alright,” you reassure mutely in return, “I have heard as such.”

The hand around the back of your neck slides gently until he tilts your chin up to meet his tender gaze.

“You are quite the woman,” he says, almost reverential, as he leans in and captures your lips in a sweet, soft kiss. 

The movement propels his cock deeper into your body, and you cry out into his open mouth at a stab of sharp pain inside. 

“That's it done,” he mutters reassuringly into your lips as you whimper gently. 

He stills as you adjust to the girth, the heat, and feeling so very filled.

“More…” falls from your mouth spontaneously, the want rising, hungry for a need to be met, a thirst slaked, unlike anything you have experienced.

The smile that breaks out over his face makes your nipples pebble hard in your stays, and he slides deeper as you cling to him, exhaling unevenly as he keeps sinking further into your pussy, pushing you open. Just when you think you cannot take more, he stops, and you feel his body pressing wholly against yours.

You stare at each other, eyes wild and wide, unable to form words but knowing instinctually how good this feels for both of you. He looks untamed, something urgent rippling in his being. And without breaking the gaze, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock is inside you, then ploughs back in, in one determined, decisive stroke.

You don't stop the decadent noise that escapes your lungs, your toes curling into the soles of your feet at how wonderful and all-encompassing that feels. Same as you don't miss the victorious smirk on his face at your reaction.

Then it’s a hungry blur of movement as your hands grab his biceps through his clothing, clinging on for dear life as he proceeds to move just like that first thrust. Over and over. Building in pace and with increasing intensity, him sensing your need for such things.

“Anthony…” his name spills over your lips again, and the impact on him is nothing short of extraordinary.

His hands clamp vicelike to your hips, branding heatedly over your skin through your dress, straining the tendons of your inner thighs as he pushes your legs open impossibly wide, his pelvis crashing into yours in a way you are certain may leave bruises. And what shocks you most is just how much you want it. Want him to leave signs of his presence, want to look in the mirror and see the outline of his digits in the globes of your bottom.

He moans your name, hot and desperate, into your ear, his pace never wavering, a drop of sweat forming on his forehead that you can't look away from when he pulls back to tilt your heads together.

“I want to see,” you stumble out, pantingly, as he takes you harder.

“See what?” he sounds almost winded, his thrusts still spearing his cock into your body.

“See you entering me,” you huff into his cheek.

His responding noise is feral and has every inch of your body alight. He bows his spine outward so your bodies only touch where you are joined, and his hand feels heated and heavy on the back of your neck as you tilt your chin down to take in the sight.

His cock, rigid and huge, ploughing repeatedly into your body, shining with a slick substance you can only assume is from within you, the sight making you shudder, but not with anything approaching disgust. It’s something primal. A need to chase a conclusion, the power of the vivid tableau burned into your retinas.

“Don't stop, please don't stop,” you petition, looking back up to his face, your hands sliding up and down his torso now, raking urgent fingernails over his clothing.

He swears, and his lips are back on yours, searing and demanding. This feels like a frantic wave you are riding together, a trickle of moisture running down your spine as you start to push your hips forward as much as you can, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“You are fucking perfect,” he snarls over your tongue, and you couldn't agree more.

Time seems elastic as he lowers you so your back rests on the piles of no doubt important paperwork, not that he pays it any mind, him hunched over you, pulling your hips out over the edge now, the range of motion it allows him making you gasp. He is taking you without mercy now, breath hot on your throat as he moans your name, his hand squirrelling between your bodies and making your vision dance with dots as he passes a slightly calloused tip over your clit.

“Come for me,” he breathes, the request both hopeful and commanding.

“What does that mean?” your question puffed into his lush hairline.

“Oh my darling, just you wait,” his voice dripping with promise even as your skin feels like it wants to vibrate off your very bones as his fingers and cock take you somewhere you never envision. An ecstasy both outside but rooted deep in your being.

He murmurs encouragingly as you struggle for air, your lungs burning, scarcely remembering to breathe, skating some kind of precipice that feels dangerous and addictive. Then, with a flick of his thumb and a gentle bite of your earlobe, you fall into an abyss. Everything all at once quiet and loud, eyes screwed shut as colours burst behind them, and every fibre of your being seems to snap and break, rearranging in a mind-shattering way. Your pussy convulsing hard around his cock that now seems impossibly large.

Then, with a deep booming cry, you feel him lance deeper than ever, his whole body tensing and jerking. A warmth spreads inside, and you vaguely realise he is reaching completion, spilling his seed inside you. For what seems like ages, your mind and body float somewhere, utterly sated, suddenly understanding why this act can be so all-consuming and there is so much written of it.

When your mind returns to the room, you are panting into each other's necks, both breathlessly stunned at how animalistic your first intimacy was. Somehow, your antagonistic chemistry transmuting into an explosive, consuming passion.

“We are going to bed right now,” his tone wrecked, rough, so damn irresistible you want to bite his flesh, even while you still recover from what transpired. Fires stoked again just by those seven words.

He pulls up his trousers haphazardly, picks you up bridal-style, and sweeps you out of his office and up the grand staircase, ignoring the shocked looks of staff at your torn dress and his roughly pulled clothing. 

“We are not to be disturbed,” he barks at his valet, who blanches and leaves the room as Anthony practically throws you onto his imposing four-poster bed. Then, as you lay there, he strips naked before you, and you want to nuzzle every inch of his toned, magnificent body. 

___

It’s three days before you reemerge from what is now your joint bedroom. From that day on, you are never without your husband for more than two days; such is your magnetic need for each other. And when your belly swells with the first of your many children, he confesses his ardent, undying love for you, you returning the sentiment instantly, having felt the same for what seems like forever. 

A hurried, naive pact between two proud, independent souls becoming something wholly other—a loving, passionate marriage of equals. You still squabble with unerring frequency, but now it ends in lovemaking, the intensity sweeping you both into an ephemeral bliss.

A beneficial arrangement indeed.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor

#anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton #1k notes #1k notes omg you guys! #2k notes #2k notes holy crap you guys! #3k notes #3k notes WOAH that's amazing you guys

[bluerosefox]

Taking a Chance

I want more TaliaxDanny stuff so how about this AU. Its mostly HEAVILY hinted though.

[Side note: Danny is in his 20s, maybe mid 20s btw, also enjoy my actual writing style, haven't done this in a while besides some small snippets I write]

Talia discovers the future plans Ra's has for her baby, her heir, her child. She is hurt and enraged because "How dare he! How dare he raise my son to be a sacrificial lamb just to extend his own life!" And the fact he had no plans to truly step down from being the Demon Head. (Basically the timeline where Ra's planned to overtake Damain's body)

-x-x-

Talia stared, her green eyes almost glowing toward the sleeping form of her son on her bed. Her eyes roamed his tiny face, the way he lightly dozed the day away unknowingly of the danger that had set in stone for him. Yes, being not just her son but the son of the Bat and the grandson of the Demon Head he was always going to be in danger but never had she really thought the danger would come from the very person who just declared him his heir. At least not in the way its been presented.

Talia had just discovered the fate her father, Ra's al Ghul, the same man that had held Damian not even a day ago and spoke of the future he could see Damian bring to the League once he was of age and would lead it, had actually planned for her son.

He planned on using her son, raising him to be the perfect heir.... to... to...

Use him as a vessel in the end.

He planned to leave his old decaying body, a body that was beginning to no longer respond to the Lazarus Pits as of late, and basically jump ship to a younger and better body...

The body of her son. The son she created and craved to have and raise. The son she made with her beloved's blood running in his veins.

Despite how enraged she is' Talia knows she can't confront her father. He would kill her... no he would torture her by hurting her baby to the point death would be a mercy if she tried. She also knows she can't go running to Bruce, she had burned the bridge to him ages ago when she refused to leave her father and his teachings and knows he would rip Damian away from her should she tell him what she did. He would, under the guise of protecting their child gain sole custody from Talia, set up next to nothing visitation rights for her to follow. He would say it would be to protect Damian from Ra's but Talia knows Bruce, knows he would use it as a half-excuse just to keep her away... but Talia wants to be in her child's life. Wants to raise him. Wants to be his mother, despite knowing next to nothing on how to be an actual normal mother, she wanted to try. She needed to try.

Running away was also out of the question, especially since Damian had been declared her father 'heir'. He would hunt them down and there was no where in this world she could hide that her father could not find them...

And-

Talia barely gives any warning when she flings the knife behind her. She waited for only a second, either to hear the ting of metal being blocked or the sound of it burying itself onto the wooden door she knew was in its pathway.

Instead she heard neither of those things and instead heard the ticking of a grandfather clock and a deep chuckle.

"As expected from the daughter of the Demon. Sharp and deadly with no hesitation in sight."

"Who are you." It was not a question but a demand. She slowly turned her head and was meet with an odd sight that even the daughter of the Demon has never seen before.

"At most.. an ally to have. At worst, merely a passing stranger with an offer."

The ticking never stopped.

Everything else outside the room though did.

-x-x-

Danny stared, his currently green eyes burning even more brightly than they normally do. Many emotions passed through them, anger, frustration, pain, sadness, regret, heartbreak, and hopelessness to name a few.

He stared at the tiny sleeping face within the healing pod in front of him and closed his eyes as memories of spending time with the one sleeping filled his mind.

"My King." A voice began, Danny's sharp pointed ears twitch for a moment and he turned his head slightly but it was all the speaker needed to know that they had his attention even if he didn't give them his full attention.

"I bring the updated reports from Chief Frostbite you requested." The young yeti ghost said, this had Danny finally turning around and looking upwards and towards the young yeti, who was smaller than Frostbite but none the less bigger than Danny. Danny held his hand out and took the stack of papers in their hands.

Once the papers were in his hands he gave a curt wave of his fingers as if to say 'go on' without actually saying the words and turned his attention to the words on the papers. The young yeti, Icewinds took the signal and began.

"Princess Danielle's core has remained the same since the last check up. No major sign of deteriorating or destabilizing... However that also means there have been no signs of improvement or healing as well..." Icewinds stopped for a moment, allowing their King to register the words being spoken "We will continue to monitor her as best as we can but... My King..."

Icewinds took a deep breath and delivered the news everyone already knew "Without a female donor to complete her Ecto-DNA, should the Princess suffers from another Fading even a minor one, I fear it might be too much for her core and with her current body form it will not be able to withstand the stress... I'm truly sorry My King."

The room fell silent, the only real sounds being the monitors in the room and sound of rustling papers in Danny's hands, who was staring blankly at the words written on them but not really taking them in.

After a moment, Icewinds shifting uncomfortably for a second, Danny spoke his voice raw but strong and firm "I understand. Please inform Frostbite I am... grateful for his, yours, and everyone's continued support and everything everyone's has done to help her... If you do not mind Icewinds, I would... Like to be alone for a while and think... For a moment."

"O-Of course My King." And with that Icewinds left the room, Danny barely taking not of the door closing and his enhanced hearing picking up the hushed soft words being spoken to the Knights that stood outside the room of Danny's request of being left alone for a while.

Once the talking outside the room faded, Danny tilted his body and head back on the chair he had been sitting in for the last few days and allowed the papers he had his hands to fall out and onto the floor. Danny took in a shaky breath and closed his burning eyes as he tried to keep his core emotions in control, knowing if he lost control the Realms would echo him and would panic or worry his people.

And he couldn't deal with that. Not now.

"Clockwork, whatever timeline you are trying to set in motion, I hope it pans out soon." Danny rasped out as he tried his best to keep himself from falling apart. Losing Danielle, losing the girl that was his clone, his mirror, but also was like a sister... daughter sometimes would break him, harshly and deeply.

He knew his advisor and resident Timekeeper had something in the works, the way the aging spirit had looked at him before he left was telling when the news of Danielle's suffering from another Fading attack and Frostbite having to perform a Core Transform nearly last second, which in turn turned her into a baby from how close she was to fully Fading, had been delivered to Danny and the others.

But despite knowing Clockwork had a plan, Danny knew that smile he had before he had left. It had been Clockwork's 'Have hope, but even I am unsure.' smile, a rare one the Timekeeper would wear when even he didn't know which way the pendulum of chance would swing first.

So he did the only thing he could do for now, and that was to remain in the room with Danielle, keep her stabilized as best as he could with his own ectoplasim flowing, and wait to see if whatever Clockwork had planned would work out.

Waiting, even with all he's done in his life from becoming a Halfa, to defending his home and haunt, from fighting off insane Fruitloops to dismantling government bigots until there was nothing left of them, all the way to fighting a tyrannicidal Ghost King to the point Danny had won the crown by Trail by Combat thus taking up the mantle of Ghost King of the Infinite Realms since his seventeenth birthday and bringing the Infinite Realms into a new age of healing the broken crumbling lands and ruling over all justly but firmly, waiting was all he could do for Danielle.

And the waiting. The stress. Was agonizing.

Because what they needed was...

Was a miracle if Danny was to be honest. They needed a female, a donor in all sense of the words, to complete Danielle's incomplete Ecto-DNA, because of course that damned Fruitloop tried skipping steps in creating a clone of Danny and it was no wonder he had failed so many times with only Danielle the most stable of them all and given the fact she still wasn't was damning, but they couldn't just have any female donate their DNA to her.

No the DNA needed the donor to at least be limenal, thus turning the DNA into Ecto-DNA because Danielle was created to be a halfa... The only problem was that the person in question needed to be Jazz level of limenal Ecto-DNA as well.

Meaning that despite both Sam and Val offering their Ecto-DNA from the years of being exposed to the Realms and Ectoplasim theirs wasn't enough to work with Danielle's. Jazz's Ecto-DNA was off the table seeing as she was his sister and mixing it with Danielle's would just lead to problems.

No they needed someone who was born near or in ectoplasm, breathed it, ate or at least filtered it, grew with it for years like Jazz and Danny did, basically the person in question just needed one odd day of dying and returning to life at the same time to becoming a halfa levels of limenal. Only those high levels could complete and combined with Danielle's.

Which given the fact only Jazz had those levels, finding someone near those levels was like looking for needle in space, because forget the haystack.

"....You've returned." Was the only words Danny said when his ears caught the sound of a ticking clock suddenly in the room, his anxiety raising as both dread and a tiny slimmer of hope both slowly climb up in his emotions, knowing whatever answer Clockwork would give him would outweigh the other.

"On time, as always My King." His cryptic Timekeeper responded "I bring... a chance."

Those words were enough to snap Danny out of his chair, he quickly looked towards where Clockwork's voice had been coming from and floated. His eyes burning with determination for a moment before he caught sight of movement behind Clockwork.

Behind the ever changing being stood a breathtaking woman. Tall and proud from the way she held herself, she looked a few years older than him but Danny could sense she was far older her soul not really matching her body. She was lovely to look at no doubt but deadly, very deadly and that was something else Danny could sense after all he was the Ghost King.

And she wasn't alone for in her arms was a baby, roughly the same age that Danielle had been de-aged to as well.

Danny blinked at them when he noticed something.

She...

She was limenal.

Very limenal. Even more limenal than Jazz.

In fact both of them were.

"I would like you to meet Lady Talia al Ghul and her son Damian, My King." Clockwork said as he gave a tiny bow towards the woman who stepped forward, a frown on her face she took in Danny's features and her eyes darting towards Danielle's healing pod for a moment, Danny could see she was tensed and a little weary from no doubt everything so far.

".... Welcome Lady Talia to the Infinite Realms. I am King Phantom." Danny greeted, his many years of training with other royalties coming forward as second nature now, he wasn't some normal teen from the middle of the Mid-West after all. "Has Clockwork told you the reasoning as to why you have been... chosen?"

He honestly would put it past Clockwork to be cryptic about the reasoning, but he hoped he hadn't because Danny really didn't want to explain the importance of it all and why they needed to hurry. And judging by the roll of his eyes Clockwork knew what Danny had been meaning as well.

"Yes King Phantom" Talia spoke, her voice rich and silky that sent a tiny shiver up Danny's spine from the sound "You need my DNA to help heal your clone. Should it be successful however it will change her from being merely a clone to instead into becoming yours and mine daughter."

"Correct." Was Danny's response, short and to the point. He needed her answer now if they wanted to save even a fragment of Danielle's core.

The room fell silent again, each them of taking a moment to think.

But eventually Talia spoke. Her voice steady and strong.

"I will offer my aid to you and yours... But only if you swear to both me and my son that we will be given sanctuary from my father and any who dares harm us for the blood that runs in our veins."

Danny only had one answer to that as his eyes caught hers.

Because despite being the Ghost King Phantom nowadays. He had once been Danny Phantom whose core started as a protector spirit and could sense the honestly of needing safety in her words.

"Yes."

-x-x-

Clockwork watched and smiled at the two adults in the room as they continued to stare at each other.

He knew he had been cutting it close, waiting for Talia to be at the ends of ropes and needing a chance to finally leave her deadly and abusive father without the toxic strings attached her ex would tie around her under the guise of safety for their son.

Turning his attention away from the two as they began to speak terms, Clockwork cast his gaze towards an window in the room and stared out of it, smile still on his face as glimpses of the rare future he saw slowly rose up more frequently.

Danny and Talia slowly and surely working together to raise not just Danielle, or rather Ellie as they renamed her since she was no longer a clone of Danny, but also Damian together. Passing them off as twins to those outside the Realms or Amity Park.

Talia learning to release the toxic love she had towards Bruce Wayne, and understand if someone truly loved you for you, they would demand sudden change from the only way of life one knows. That since she was no longer the thumb of her father she could finally be free to be herself.

Danny learning that despite being crowned so early in his life, that the weight of the crown didn't need to be carried alone. Sure he had his friends and family but Danny needed someone, someone who understood the weight of the feeling of needing to wear it head held high. And who better to help teach that than the woman who had to carry the name Daughter of the Demon Head herself.

The two growing closer and closer. Until fondness changed and shifted into more. As they raised the two infants with laughter and joy and love.

Ellie getting a kiss from Talia on the forehead when she had a nightmare and seeked her mother out for comfort. Toddler Damian riding Cujo around the castle as he copied Fright Knight after watching him ride off, Danny floating right by him making sure he didn't fall off. Ellie learning how to fight not just from her mother but from her idol Pandora. Damian learning to identify the stars and their names from the man he saw, and later wished was, his father. Ellie and Damian building pillow forts in the library and reading all manners of stories to each other. Danny and Talia holding their tiny hands as they took them to their first day of school within Amity Park their joyful laughter bringing soft smiles on their parents faces.

Danny holding a crying Talia as she explained the things she had been taught and forced to learn by the orders of her father in the dead of night. Doing his best to calm her down as he had been taught by Jazz ages ago.

Talia standing tall and firm when the Observants tried to undermined a order, no a law Danny had set in motion that had upset the eyeballs badly. How she gathered evidence of their attempts to go against it and how they were nothing but traitors towards their King and couldn't weasel themselves out of it this time.

Clockwork smiled warmly when he caught sight of one more glimpse of this future timeline.

Talia dressed beautifully, a crown made of stars and black jewels on her head. Her son dancing with her as firm as he could but his little tongue peeking out of his mouth as he concentrated on his steps and was dressed like a tiny prince complete with a tiny crown of stars on his head as well, Talia's face held a tiny smile of love watching him try his hardest to dance correctly with her. Joyful squeals of laughter rang out as King Phantom twirled with Ellie, who was dressed like a true princess, in his arms.

Around them in the ballroom the citizens of Realms laughed, joyfully danced, sang, ate, or merely watched. For the first time in many, many years the Realms felt... Complete. Whole. Happy.

A true wonderful afterlife that all could enjoy.

Yes.

He knew waiting the last second was a long shot, for a chance that almost wasn't, but the future he saw was well worth it.

A good future. A balanced one. A happy afterlife one.

Now, all he had to do was wait for the seeds of this future to bloom.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #blue rambles #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #royal errors #taliaxdanny #Talia runs off with baby Damian #gets an offer from CW #you give your DNA to my King for his clone turned daughter #and you get freedom and safety from your insane father #and no strings attached like your ex #Danny and Talia kinda co-parent #mostly at first its Talia trying to be a mother to her 'daughter' #Danny didn't wanna overstep boundaries with Damian but does adore the grumpy baby #eventually their kinda co-parenting does turn into real co-parenting #Danny and Talia do grow close #and eventually give dating a shot #turns out very very well #Future Damian wishes Danny actually was his bio-dad when he learns his bio-dad is Batman #like cool and all but come on his step-dad is freaking King of the Infinite Realms #Bruce learns about Damian when his class takes a trip to Gotham #And Ellie gets kidnapped oh boy

[littlemspeachy]

Crazy To Love You

(Feyd x Reader)

Summary: You hated him. You hated his planet. You were the sun and the stars. Of warmth and gold. Yet, for some reason, you do find black appealing.

Note: While this is a reader insert, there are mentions of brown skin, but other than that, it's fairly neutral

Warnings: 18+ content near the end but nothing explicit, mentions of blood and use of the word whore.

Word Count: 2.35K

Part II

---------

Everyone said there was something complex about him. About the man you were about to marry. In her opinion, there was nothing complex about the man. He was easy to figure out and it didn't take a shrink to realize that. He was violent and cold. Obsessed with blood and the cries of a man he knew he was about to kill. 

He was nothing special and yet here you were getting ready to get sent away.

"You are to marry him." Lady Jessica coolly responded while she watched your maids put the finishing jewelry into your hair and bodice. 

You stared at her from the reflection of your vanity mirror. 

"You don't get better than this. You're a daughter of your fathers' whore-" She started angrily. 

"Get out of my head. The least you could do is that." You snapped before the Reverend Mother walked through the door. 

"I don't understand how you managed to raise such a disobedient child," The older woman dragged. 

"And child I don't understand how you could be so stupid." She said smacking you on the back of your head. 

You sighed and stared at yourself in the mirror before applying lining your lips with a soft brown and filling the rest of the empty space with a dark red. And no, you weren't stupid to not know what was going on. Lady Jessica messed up and bore a son and so in the eyes of the Reverend Mother, you were the best choice. You were still of the Duke's blood and by marrying the na-baron and producing an heir you would bring the houses together and create a perfect union. You knew this, you knew this ever since you came of age. You knew it more and more in every etiquette lesson. 

Raised like cattle for slaughter. Or not slaughter but more so for breeding. 

 A knock on your chambers broke you from your thought process, you looked to your door to see your brother peek into the room. 

"He's here." 

You sent the young man a small smile before standing and heading out with Lady Jessica and the Reverend. 

Your ladies-in-waiting walked silently behind you with your luggage in hand. They too knew of the rumors of the man you were bound to marry. The grotesque nature of his uncle and family. 

The warmth of the sun warmed your skin, but it didn't seem to reach past it. You had known these halls all your life. Stared at the paintings and art that decorated the walls. You'll miss the yellow of the sun that allowed your brown to become even richer in the warmer months. 

When you were younger your nursed like to joke that if there were goddesses you had to have been the child of the sun. Unfortunately, today proved that no such being existed because why would she curse her child to a polluted waste land with a sun as black as night. 

They arrived at large doors to the negotiation room. Guards of both families lining the walls. You followed the two older women into the room while your ladies-in-waiting stayed outside. 

 You sat next to Paul and across from your husband to be. 

Feyd was... Not stunned no. Not amused either. He had heard about you as a child and adolescent and even met you at some point in those years. Yet here he was, intrigued. You looked almost entirely out of place and in place at the same time. He could tell you were strong willed, but then again, any man in the room could tell that. 

You sat with your back straight and head high. Your eye's moved to each person as they spoke. 

As much as he would never admit it. You were beautiful. Not seductive, not sensual. You were beautiful. You're skin complimentary to the gold in your hair and the gold threads in your bodice. Your skin shined in the lazy afternoon sun. Your lips plump and decorated in red. You were stunning. 

"Then it is settled. You two will be wed by the next full moon," Feyds uncle rasped, a greedy smile upon his lips while he stared at you intently. 

"Come it is getting late and we must make our way back. Have her maids put her items on our ship. There's to be a solar disturbance. And I don't want to be here longer than I need to, this heat is starting to annoy me." 

You swallowed intensely. "No." 

All eyes snapped to you. Feyd tilted his head slightly to the side in curiosity. 'A fighter' he mused. This should be interested. 

"I have never been Giedi Prime, and since I am to be married in a week, I would like my family to join me, a proper wedding, and an introduction to your culture and customs. There is more than enough time to organize my request." You stared at the two leading men at the table. Inside you were shaking and fearing the worse. While you still had enough status to marry into a High Family, it didn't take away the fact that you were born out of wedlock. But fortunately, your voice stayed strong and didn't betray your nerves. 

Lady Jessica started to open her mouth to reprimand her but was cut off by laughter. Well, it was more of a bark but humor present, nonetheless. 

"I agree to your terms, child." Feyd's uncle said staring at you.

"I do not understand." Lady Jessica muttered staring at you in horror. 

"This will either be the greatest match in all the high families. Or the worst thing to come from your House." 

You bite the inside of your cheek, jaw flaring. The handshakes and contracts were signed. 

You walked silently and quickly to the informal meeting place of your home. Maids scrambling to get other items for your family and to leave promptly. Lady Jessica hot on your tail and delivered a quick slap to your face when you turned around. 

"How dare you embarrass us like this." 

"Not to intrude on family... matters... But as she is my bride, I'd prefer if you don't leave marks on her. That should be my job soon enough." A voice said boredly. 

She whipped her head to look behind her and stared at the pale man behind her. Before gritting her teeth, giving a small curtsy and walking out quickly. 

"It's impolite for us to be together without a chaperone." You stated. Eyes following his every move. You didn't trust him. How could you? He was a bloody murder, that craved blood and bones. You would consider him uncivilized if it wasn't for the fact that he came from a royal bloodline. 

"Hmm, you see something you like?" 

You squeezed your dress in your hand to stop you from being annoyed and rolling your eyes.

"You know I heard you were sweet. Demure. But you seem to like a fight." 

"A fight that was not, my lord. Just a request. I am to be whisked away to a place where I am nobody and have no rights outside of you. So yes, requesting my family and have a civil wedding, is the most basic request." 

He gave you a smirk. Him slowly getting close to you, almost like a snake. "You sure are mouthy, I hope it's the same on our wedding night." He whispered, closely to your ear. 

His hot breath sending a chill up your spine. You watched him walk past you to the window. He was incredibly pale and hairless. No blemish or scar in sight. Was that genetics or cosmetic you would never know. How dark was it on his planet to make someone so pale? Paul was pale, but his skin warmed and tanned during the warmer months.

You glowed in the sun; you understood the sun. The sun gave light, it gave colors. A black sun... Would strip things of light. Nothing exists in a sun like that. 

The reality of your situation started to bare its weight on your shoulders. You knew why they needed the marriage to work, you knew why you needed to produce an heir. It would create an alliance forged in blood, it would tie your two kingdoms together and prevented them from going to war. It would protect your kingdoms economy and exports. But why a place so cold in dark. How were you to live? To raise a child or children. How were you going to raise your children. With dreams and fantasies of a kingdom they'll never know. Shall they become their father? Murderous and craving madness and death? 

You let in a deep breath, to help settle you. You were to be married and have a child. That's it. You were raised to do so and do it you will. Nothing more, nothing less. 

"We are ready for departure your majesties." A voice rang through the room.

You nodded at the man before taking a look back at Feyd and realizing that he's been staring at you the whole time. 

The next few days were spent learning about their "castle", which in your opinion was a bland fortress meant to keep people out and in.  The days were spent watching bloody sparring matches in preparation for his big fight and preparing for the wedding. 

Skin was cleaned and body was scrubbed clean. Herbs and foods to increase fertility feed three times a day. Lessons on how to "please a man" in way too much detail. Nothing like what you expected your wedding day to look like. When you were younger you imagined white dresses and days of getting to know your soon to be husband by the waves. Intimate and flushed glances at each other over dinner. Excitement and butterflies. And all there was to greet you was darkness. Black suns and pale heads greeted you at every corner. You prayed your child you look more like you. Or at least a mix. 

 You woke up to the sound of your sun alarm. You're glad you brought it with you. It imitated actual sun light and reminded you of home and warmth. You cuddled back into the pillows when you realized your maids weren't there. Breakfast and a long intensive bath could wait. You hardly did anything and yet had intensive baths every morning and night. After five days you were surprised, you had any skin left. 

Feyd watched you silently doze off again, perched away in a corned you have not seem to realize. He chuckled lightly at the last time you fully conversed. 'Not polite.' What he was going to do in one days' time wouldn't be very polite to her parents either. 

He watched you as you walked softly to the vanity you had set up in your room. It was simply a desk and a small mirror, but it worked for what it was. For what you had access too. 

You hummed lightly to yourself as you took your scarf off your head and took out the rollers. The maids given to you had no idea what they were doing when it came to your hair. It was the last thing that you had for yourself... Only yourself. 

Feyd walked over silently, almost leaning down to your ear whipping backwards and grabbing your wrist. 

No words were said, outside of the sound of heavy breathing. 

The two of you stared intensely at each other before the man's eyes wondered over to the knife in your hand. Sharp and ready to sink into the next victim. 

He raised what you assumed would've been a brow if he wasn't hairless. 

"Did you intend to kill me." 

"It didn't matter if it was you. The knife was intended for whomever decided to get that close to me without out announcing themselves." You spat. 

He smirked at you, "So you do know how to take care of yourself."

"My father didn't raise a stupid damsel."

"Very clearly he didn't." 

You two stared at each other before he went and bite your collarbone. A guttural groan coming from his throat as he smelt your rose body oils from the night before. 

You gasped, shocked, your hand dropping the knife and your body arching towards his. A surprising mix of sharp pain and pleasure dancing through your body to your fingertips. 

"I thought you hated me?" He whispered grabbing your chin and forcing you to keep eye contact. 

Truth be told as much as you hated his home, his planet, the whole preparation of practically being wedded purely for alliance reasons. You got used to the idea of being his. 

He was smart and quick on his feet. Intelligent and willing to amuse your intellectual ideas. He let you fight him and berate him when you were alone. He guarded you and defended you. And he was taken with you the moment he met you. Many women were raised to be obedient, silent, and just take what was given to them. If he was going to become the Baron one day he'd need a woman that was going to raise his children to be strong. Your union was perfect, anything that he lacked you had. 

"I hate you invading my space. If you wanted to come you could've asked or at least told me." You stated. A terrible and needy heat starting to fill your body. 

He smirked at you before crashing your lips together. Teeth and tongue clashing in a battle of dominance. His hands threading through your hair and yours finally getting the relief of feeling his body. 

You broke away to breath, head being lifted by the upwards pull of your hair. 

"I would love to continue this but, this is impolite, remember." He said breathlessly, backing up slowly. 

You stared back at him. Becoming painfully aware of the want in your core and the electricity running through your body needing release. 

"Fuck you." 

Feyd laughed at your temper tantrum before leaving your room and leaving you to deal with the mess he started. 

#fanfic #dune x reader #feyd x reader #feyd rautha x you #black reader

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Hey I’m not sure if you’re doing requests right now (if not then please just ignore😭) if you are doing requests I was wondering if you could write and Aemond x Wife Reader where she’s with child, in where the dinner scene takes place but when Jace goes to hit Aemond the reader tries to stop him and jace blond in anger pushes her and she falls to the floor and starts to bleed (the child is okay in the end) and it the whole table goes quite! Please and thank you!! I love your writing sm💕💕

'If looks could kill'

A/N: I got this request ages ago so sorryyyyyy~ I was unsure how to approach this one as there is a very similar fic by the wonderful @aemonds-war-crime and I was really weary and making it not too similar, hopefully I did it? lol

Go read theirs cos honestly it's better anyway

Warnings: mention of miscarriages, hurt reader, protective aemond, childbirth / Ao3 link

You raised your arms out in a silent plea, feeling too heavy and weak to be able to pull yourself up. Smiling up to him, you wiggle your fingers.

“A little help?” you say in a half-mischievous tone. 

“Hm” Aemond responded with that half-smile before bending at the knees to take your hands to pull you up. 

You feigned a groan of pain as you came to your feet, one hand stationed under the large bump as if for protection. It took no effort from Aemond at all to pull you up and he smoothed his large hands down your side. He stood before you in silence, but you could feel his eye over your form, beaming with pride at the bump that touched against him. So much so, he placed his palm to it and closed his eye. His expression was so peaceful you would think he is falling asleep, but with a soft laugh you lay your own palm on his face, softly stroking your thumb against it. 

When he looks down at you, there is a flash of worry.

“Are you sure you are well enough to do this?” he asks.

Without a beat, you nod, hand still finding its home on his face. 

It was only natural that Aemond was worried for you throughout this long and tortuous pregnancy. He had concerned himself with your wellbeing the entire time, making sure the right foods and the right care was provided, lest the servants feel the wrath of a Targaryen soon-to-be father.

It made you regard him with love and trust the way he took care of you. But a tug of sadness was always there.

Before this pregnancy, your marriage had been plagued with a few miscarriages, some later than others, but still painful nonetheless. The first had been the most painful to your emotions and every one after had chipped a little piece of you away with it. But what worried you the most was the extent at which Aemond seemed to hide his own feelings from you. He was always there for comfort when it happened and you desperately wanted him to at least tell you what was on his mind. If he was grief-stricken, would he tell you?

When this pregnancy came around, there was a deep, dark and hurt part of you that thought it would not last. You thought to not get any hopes of passing a particular milestone and many nights you were crying in Aemond’s arms just praying for the Gods to end it if it was not to result in a baby. To spare you the sadness and grief at another lost child.

But days, weeks and months passed and you only swelled more. You would pull the dress under your bump in the mirror to see how big you had gotten and a motherly pride would overwhelm you at the feeling of growing Aemond’s child and heir inside you. 

You meet Aemond’s gaze, half-worried, “Are you going to be alright?”

He sighs deeply, “I shall have to be”

You send him a sad smile, resting your hand on top of his, “And you will not antagonise them?”

I raise my eyebrow when Aemond doesn’t respond, a smirk appears on his face.

“I am not sure if that’s a promise I can make”

You huff a laugh and press a quick kiss to his lips, closing your eyes to savour the feeling of him alone with you before you were to share the evening with Rhaenyra and her children.

“Just try and be good” 

You smile, knowing that he most certainly will not. 

Between waddling to the table and feeling the kicks of the baby against your insides, the evening wasn’t so bad. There was a bit of squabbling for certain and some glares exchanged, namely by Aemond and Luke, but you supposed it was to be expected. Nobody had expected them to be the best of friends after all. 

You pushed the food around your place, feeling your appetite dwindle as the night went on. Even the comfort of wine didn’t seem to touch the discomfort you felt at the baby resting on your pelvis. But nothing seemed to cause more discomfort than when Viserys was escorted from the table back to his chambers. The atmosphere changed entirely and there was a thick layer of tension to the room, threatening to snap at any moment.

You watched as Jace invited Helaena for a dance. It would have been nice to see had Aegon not adopted a sour frown at the sight of the brunet’s hands on his sister-wife. Perhaps he felt embarrassed, you were not sure, but it was certainly of no bother to you as you closed your eyes, one hand rested at the bump. A habit adopted only in the last month or two.

You jumped slightly and opened your eyes when Aemond squeezed his hand over yours, looking at you with concern.

“Are you alright, my love” he asked.

You nodded slowly, “Just tired. I may retire soon”

Aemond tapped your hand before pulling back, passing a scathing look to the younger brunet at the other side of the table. Your eyes watch your husband as a roasted pig is brought to the table, and to your discomfort, is placed right before your husband. You close your eyes, hoping Luke isn’t stupid enough to retort to it, but when Aemond turns to see Luke and a hateful smirk makes its way to his face, you know it was too late for the kind words of a wife to bring him back.

Luke immediately ceases his laughter when Aemond’s fist makes contact with the table, standing with his cup. You open your mouth to ask Aemond to calm down, but the words tumble from your husband’s mouth before you get the chance. Everyone in the room has their eyes trained on Aemond. 

The tension in the room is as tight as a bowstring. 

“Final tribute” he finally says. His deep voice resonates throughout the room, authoritative and well-meaning in his eyes.

“To the health of my nephews”

His eye meets Jace, who is sending daggers at him from across the room, “Jace” Aemond says.

“Luke”

The younger brunet pretends to feign indifference, but he must know as well as everyone else, he is afraid of what his Uncle might do or say, given the circumstances of their relationship. 

“And Joffrey”

The table braces themself for more. You look up to your husband on the off chance he is looking down at you to ask him to stop, but he is far too deep now.

“Each of them handsome, wise…”

Alicent looks as if she might throw up anticipating what Aemond then says.

“...strong”

“Aemond” Alicent scolds in a soothing voice, her panicked eyes meet yours. Both the women in Aemond’s life give one another a silent plea that all this end, but powerless to do anything to stop him. And in some strange truth, perhaps Aemond deserves to have this word in some way.

“Come, let us drain our cups to these three strong boys”

Jace’s return sounds angrier even though he is to your back and you cannot see his face, “I dare you to say that again”

“Why?” Aemond barks back, “T’was only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?”

You had enough and you rise from your chair as Aemond rounds the table to approach Jace. 

“That is enough, Aemond” you scold quietly, placing yourself before him. 

Aemond attempts to go around you, but Jace is already advancing and before you know it he is almost right before you. He looks blind with rage, almost unrecognisably so and there is something in his eye which seems unhinged, as if not thinking clearly. 

Instinctively, you step in front of Aemond, arm reaching across as if you could offer any protection despite Aemond’s clearly larger frame. But Jace’s eyes only land on his Uncle and without thinking he places his palm flat on your shoulder to shove you out of the way to land a punch to the side of Aemond’s face. 

You gasp out as your hand reaches out for the table as you tumble, your weight off balance due to the bump before you. But your eyes widen when your hands miss the table and you topple over the chair to land square on your front on the cold, hard stone floor, landing with a groan of pain.

Hands flat on the stone floor, it takes you a moment to really realise what has happened. Everyone in the room takes a breath and is completely silent while they watch you come to the realisation of what had just happened. Pushing yourself from the floor shakily, you realise you have landed on your bump and a sound halfway between a cry and a choke escapes you as you feel the familiar ache in your womb. 

You look up to Aemond with glassy eyes and his form is entirely still, his face stoic and you see his eye flit from you to Jace. His whole body is charged with something and you realise exactly what it is when in just a second he had Jace pressed against the wall, his dagger pressed against the older brunet’s throat. His expression is not crazed or angry and you are surprised just how calm Aemond looks as he threatens Jace’s life.

Jace blabbers incoherently, making half-apologies. All on deaf ears.

Alicent rounds the table in a jog to kneel by you and she goes from helping you to a more comfortable position, to wiping away the tears on your face. 

“You dare harm my wife, bastard” Aemond spits, pinning the smaller boy to the wall with ease.

You grip Alicent’s forearm, a new wave of pain crashing through you, taking every ounce of strength with it. She looks down at you with furrowed eyes and out-of-breath you say,

“What’s happening…?” you ask, feeling a warm sensation between your legs. 

Rhaenyra and Daemon only watch from the other side of the table as the scene unfolds. Daemon has one hand resting on his sword’s handle, just in case anything goes too far, a sickening smirk on his face.

You look up to Aemond to find he is already staring down at you. The previous anger now turned to complete shock and concern at the situation that has befallen the evening. With a soft sheen of sweat on your face and the lines of tears that had run down your face, you meet his gaze with concern and fear. This feeling you knew and you shook your head, it could not be another, could it? Could the gods truly be this cruel?

Alicent is jittering with anxiety and pulls Aemond off of Jace, having spaced out with the blade still at the brunet’s throat. 

“Aemond…” you let out a quiet sob as he kneels to you, “...something is wrong…”

Without thinking, Aemond brings your body into his arms, rushing you with an entourage of people to your chambers. Before he has a chance to question, the family are pushed to the other side of the door, various maesters and midwives all filing in to fill their stations. It was like preparing for battle.

Concealed on the outside, Aemond was entirely inconsolable and paced for hours, flinching whenever you made a sound that evoked pain. He felt his fist clench so hard he thought the bones may give out, and he imagined bashing Jace’s head through for merely laying a hand on you in your delicate condition. Oh the things he would like to do to that boy.

But the sheer anxiety of your situation had him obediently outside your chambers. The family could only wait for those fated doors to open. Alicent grasped her son’s arm in comfort, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Aemond had been sitting outside the doors for hours now and to put it bluntly, he had made himself sick with worry for your wellbeing. He had heard very little through the thick doors, and this seemed to concern him even more. His eye looked up to find Alicent pacing the hallway before him, seemingly attempting to soothe herself. 

One side of the door opened and the maester poked his head out and almost immediately Aemond stood to attention, lending his ear to the maester to whisper. It was the dead of night and in fact may have been very early the next morning, and the Keep was completely silent, even the whispers of the maester seemed to echo.

Face blanched with worry, Aemond was allowed into the room. His gaze scanned the room in a panic, eventually landing on your form, sitting upright in the bed you shared together. Your tired eyes met him and gave him a soft, but exhausted smile, one hand underneath a bundle held tightly to your chest. Your husband’s ghostly white expression never faltered once, fully expectant for all this to be some cruel dream. 

You extended a hand out to him and swallowing heavily, Aemond dragged his feet over to you and shakily reached out to touch you. You pulled him to sit next to you, but his gaze was stuck on you the entire time to observe you. Your shift had been abandoned and a silk robe had been tied around you as you laid in bed, multiple cushions and blankets stacked upon one another to create the soft mound to rest your body against. 

Your face was flushed and a thin layer of sweat was still evident on your brow, but all the same, your smile warmed him. You huff a laugh as you lay a hand against his face,

“My love” you say, bringing him out of a trance-like state, “this is our daughter” 

His eyeline follows yours down to your chest, where a small bundle of a baby was suckling against your chest. A warmth that was not previously there spreads through Aemond’s heart almost painfully and some semblance of colour is once again painted at his cheeks.

His index finger reaches out to stroke the infant’s head. Halfway between a choked sob and a laugh rattles through Aemond’s chest. The infant was small, but flushed with a pink flush, looking healthy. You leaned forward to stroke his hair and he leaned against you, placing his forehead with yours. A silent act of love.

He grasped your hand tightly, not wanting to let go.

“Well done, my love” he said quietly, “I thought the worst”

You look back down at your daughter, who made a content sound, “I did as well” you admit.

After a few minutes, Aemond stood and straightened his clothing, turning towards the door.

“Aemond” you call after him.

His purple eye lands on you once more, softening instantly.

“Don’t hurt him too badly” you smile.

#aemond fic #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond angst #aemond fluff #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst #hotd fluff #hotd angst #hotd fanfic #aemond fandom #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine

[coralinnii]

Hi! I just wanna say I love your villain/ness au 😍 especially leonas part thank you for giving me this story as I was finding stories like this💕💕so I was wondering can I request about the tweel? Their my most favorite in twisted wonderland 🙏 it will be my outmost joy to see you write them!

and sorry if im wrong in writing this request because this is actually my first time writing a request 😅 so thank you for the understanding 😁

Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy feat: Jade genre: drama note: set in the same universe as previous works (Azul’s ver specifically), no pronouns were used, villain/ess!reader is not a merfolk, roughly 2k word count 

series masterlist

I know there's someone missing but Jade's portion got longer than I expected so I cutting it into separate posts. Floyd's part will be released soon so in the meantime, enjoy as we welcome the fourth vice-housewarden to this surprisingly popular AU.

Sorry 3aemidnight, that this is slightly subverted from the request but Floyd's part has that aspect more played into

You’re screwed. Absolutely screwed. Why did you end up in this situation?? You didn’t even read the webtoon! Your classmate was gushing over a popular webtoon and like a good friend, you lent an ear to her excited ramblings. Her favorite characters seem to be a pair of devilish merfolk brothers. It was that rambling that helped you realize where you were because you didn’t bother remembering the main cast but you couldn’t forget the name “Jade Leech” nor his partner, you. 

Or at least the character you possessed that your classmate kept wishing she could be. The lucky duck that became Jade’s betrothed but you couldn’t really agree with that sentiment when she mentioned how that same partner was left behind by the Leech heir and prosecuted as an accomplice to the Leech family’s underground activities. 

“What’s so great about the hopeless love trope?!” 

Unfortunately, the proceedings for your engagement to the suave marquis heir was set. Putting a wrench into the plans now would cause too many issues to both families. Still, you were determined to leave this crazy story unscathed no matter what. 

“Let’s make a contract” were your first words to your soon-to-be partner to which he responded with a curious quirk of his eyebrow. “a prenuptial to be precise” 

“But my dear,” a shiver ran down your spine when Jade used that supposedly endearing name, a superficial one of course. “What ever could have scared you to have such worries?” 

“Because I know what you and your family are trying to do” 

Oh, you have piqued Jade’s interest now.

Your listening skills have paid off as you remembered the plot of the Leech family. The brothers were working to extend their family’s power above the waters and to have an “organized system of connections” with the help of the newly appointed count Ashengrotto. With their intelligence and charm, they wanted to monopolize the marine market from local fishing rights to overseas trading. Unfortunately, the main leads stood in their way and forced the native merfolk to flee to their home, leaving those associated with them to answer for their crimes. 

You have no interest in being caught in the crossfire but becoming an enemy to the Leech family is not a favourable situation either. So your best option was… 

“I’ll help you” 

If you’re going to be accused as an accomplice, better be the best accomplice so neither of you get caught. 

The greatest challenge for merfolk on land was the discrimination that was still prevalent, even after the human-merfolk alliance. No matter how charming Jade was, it was hard for the merman to converse with the more narrow-minded noblemen. It was why the Leech heir agreed to the engagement as your family was beloved and highly respected in the kingdom. Your character was just an oblivious, lovestruck pawn to his plans. 

“I’ll play the perfect partner, give you the backing you need, the intel you want” you stated your terms, with no room for negotiation. “But, we’re publicly in an arranged engagement only, nothing else. We only meet when necessary and once your family secure the Triton ocean trade route, we’re breaking our engagement and never to speak to each other again” 

If the Leech family weren’t caught, they would have returned to their native home anyway and controlled the trading from the safety of the ocean. Either way, Jade would have been out of your life regardless, so you should at least escape prosecution. 

You weren’t falling for his gentleman facade, and you definitely refuse to be the one on the short end of the stick in his crazy family’s schemes. 

You and Jade were locked in a silent stare down, waiting for either one of you to break the silence. You kept your mouth shut, not letting your nerves talk yourself down. It was this or nothing. 

Your gamble paid off. Jade chuckled with a slight peek of his sharp teeth and extended his hand out, piercing your figure with a pair devilish eyes. 

“If that is what my dear wishes, how can I decline?” 

So sealed your deal with the devil your future ex-fiancé 

Some time passed since your agreement, you joined a soirée your family was invited to. As a newly engaged couple, it was expected for you to bring Jade to which he was happy to escort his precious person (you hid your scoff). True to your word, you agree to chat with some of the daughters and wives of certain families for certain intel that Jade needed. While the ladies were more tolerant of the merfolk, they held certain prejudices over them which would affect the conversation greatly should Jade attempt to speak with them. 

So off you go. 

It was surprisingly easy with the chatty ladies to gather what you needed to know. They were happy to brag about the wealth and connections their families had and the businesses they controlled. The number of employers, the unknowing dissatisfaction of their workers that went over their heads, the obvious limited knowledge over the sea routes…everything came loose from their lips and will inevitably be used against them later on. Once you mentally checked off what Jade requested you to find out, you were patiently waiting to take your leave when someone decided to steer the conversation to something else. 

“But enough about our families. How is your life as a newly betrothed, darling?” One of the wives brought the attention to you, which took you slightly by surprise. 

“Well, our families were growing close so we decided a union would be beneficial” you smiled as convincing as you could. “While we were arranged, I’m sure it will be an amiable alliance” 

“Oh, how lucky you are” one of the younger daughters congratulated as convincingly as her eyelashes were. “To be engaged to someone as distinguished and exotic as Jade Leech, your family connections must have been more impressive than I realize. I knew how enamored you were with the young heir, but to think a frumpy wallflower such as yourself managed to capture him. Good for you” 

Any semblance of tolerance you had for these women had just been thrown out the window. Even if you were detached from your host character in every sense, you felt anger building in your body from their haughty words. You quickly glanced to where Jade was and he was standing but with his signature smile and charming eyes engaging in conversation with other attendees, so you assumed he couldn’t hear from where he stood.

It’s not good to hold in your anger… so you don’t. 

“Interesting…if I’m a frumpy wallflower as you say, what would you be?” You pondered aloud with innocent tone of voice “bottom feeders?” 

Gasps and stuttering replies were let out from the flushing women, flabbergasted by your undignified words, but they haven’t heard anything yet. 

“Before my engagement, I often chatted with the current Marquis Leech and he was telling me how he was flooded by persistent engagement proposals for his heir that there wasn’t a day that a messenger wouldn’t visit the Leech residence.” 

That was a bold-faced lie about your meetings with the Marquis head but you recalled your classmate’s words of the mountains of proposals the Leech brothers would get, proving their in-universe popularity despite being discriminated against. Well, it’s not as though anyone would question your source, you were engaged to a Leech afterall.

The wives may have been confused but the younger ladies were visibly shaking as they watched you with nervous eyes, either praying you didn’t know the families that proposed or if you did, you’d keep silent over it. 

But you offer no such salvation from their humiliation 

“Out of the countless proposals, I seem to have been chosen over the ones who reached out first. In fact, some of the interested ladies are here in attendance today, such as Lady-“ 

You paused abruptly as you quickly back away as one of the single daughters reached for a drink and prepared to throw it into your face in desperation to avoid being exposed. Seems like you pushed a line too far. You closed your eyes, braced for a rude splash…

but nothing came. 

Surprised muttering and gasps compelled you to reopen your eyes but you were met with a lean chest and tall looming figure blocking you from the women. You leaned to the side and was shocked to see a large wet spot on Jade's pristine suit jacket, his back and shoulder drenched in champagne. You peeked at Jade's face as he wore his signature smile, appearing calm but you could have swore his jaw seemed more tight and strained as though he’s fighting something internally. 

Maybe you’re just reading too much into it. 

Any semblance of annoyance you thought you saw disappeared the moment the eel merman turned to face the ladies before. He placed his gloved hand over his heart and smiled as usual. 

“I believe this conversation may have gone on too long. Everyone is getting a little too tired and reckless. Perhaps we should cut the night short tonight, do you agree?” Jade proceeded to rest his hand on your shoulder, looking at you with faux concern. “Shall we take our leave, my dear?” 

Stomping down the involuntary shiver, you nodded and turned to walk away without saying goodbye to the ladies or even waited for Jade to walk with you. At least Jade had some strength to offer a bow and a smile before joining you. However, you didn't notice the way the ladies silently flinched in fear when they saw the dangerous glint in the young merman's mismatched eyes.

“I never realized you had such a fiery tongue,” Jade commented as the two of you make your way to your carriage, to which you clicked your tongue in annoyance. 

“So you were able to hear everything” you chose to change the topic. “You better not say anything to your father about what I said today. I needed to use an excuse” 

“You needn’t worry, my dear. I’m simply impressed you knew about the proposal letters.” Jade ended his words there, but you knew he was curious to know your sources, especially since it pertains to the ongoings in the Leech residence. 

“I heard some things, that’s all I’ll say” you held your tongue beyond that, your eyes relaying to Jade not to prod further, which he conceded. 

“Of course. I would never want to upset you, my dear.” Jade smiled at the slight shiver in your shoulders. 

“Alright, my turn to ask questions” you stopped in your tracks, forcing Jade to do the same, enticing his curiosity as you always seem to. Your eyes stared at the stained jacket that hung over Jade's arm, having taken it off to avoid the rest of his attire getting dirty. A sense of guilt pinched your heart as you questioned him, “Why did you save me? Sure, I’ll be slightly humiliated but I can just play the victim and ruin them further” 

Jade silently stood in his spot, as though he was seriously contemplating his previous actions. But you doubt that because Jade Leech does not do things impulsively. He’s calculating, his movements always premeditated and intentional. 

Right?

Then, the ocean-haired man slowly walked closer to you. Carefully, he reached out his gloved hand towards your cheek and wiped a small drop of champagne from your hairline. A minuscule drop must have made its way to your face without your awareness. But Jade noticed. The cold leather glided from your forehead to your ear, to which he crept closer as he leaned down and whispered to you. 

“We made a deal, my dear” his smooth voice vibrated clearly into your head and your instinctive shiver came once more from his name for you. “I plan to make good use of you and I will not permit anyone from ruining you before I’m done” 

You sealed your fate with Jade, so you must commit to the end.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland scenarios #jade leech #jade x reader #villainess au

[maarrgarr]

The Unknown Heir

part ten

masterlist of the Unknown Heir.

Gojo Satoru x fem! reader.

Synopsis: The reader returns after being gone for two years and leaving her boyfriend, Satoru, without giving him a reason. But now she doesn't come back alone.

Warning: English is not my first language, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes, some plot changes.

You contained your frustration and kept your composure in the face of Satoru's defiant words. With determination in your eyes, you faced him and responded calmly.

"Gojo, I apologize for being late," you said in a serene voice, swallowing your pride and looking into his eyes, even if they were blindfolded. You remembered that when you were young and everything was going well, just by looking Satoru in the eyes you could convince him of anything, although that was surely not the case anymore.

You wanted to at least try to have a good working relationship with him, even though you knew it wouldn't do any good because as soon as he found out the truth about Ryu, he was going to hate you, more than he probably already hated you.

Satoru watched you for several minutes, he seemed to be analyzing your words, which made you a little nervous. For a moment you swore his expression softened a bit, but it was like a ghost appearing and disappearing in a second. He didn't answer you anything, he simply turned around and sat down on one of the steps, ignoring your presence.

You felt your pride hurt, so you rolled your eyes and sat away from him, but before you could, he said, "Don't make that gesture, you know I hate it." You sighed loudly and ignored him.

When you were not yet boyfriend and girlfriend and got along relatively badly because you hated him and he flirted and teased you. Every time you rolled your eyes at him he would scold you, he said he thought it was an unbearable gesture, but you did it anyway to tease him.

Both students trained hand-to-hand. You were not surprised that there were only two of them; it was quite normal the shortage of students. Everything was going quite well, they were fighting with strength and determination; it seemed that neither of them wanted to lose. Until one maneuver ended with one of them with an injured leg and screaming in pain. The perpetrator quickly let go of his partner and went over to try to help her.

You and Satoru quickly stood up and walked over to the boys. "Don't touch her," you said to the boy who was trying to help his female companion, who was sore on the floor. Gojo bent down and checked her. "I'm going to take you to the infirmary, Ieiri will fix you up."

You reacted. Gojo could not go to the infirmary. If he did, he would run into Ryusei and that would not end well. "I'll take her," you said. "What? No, you stay with Tetsuo." "I'd better take her. I'm a woman, she'll feel confident with me." You were trying to convince him anyway. "How will she feel better with you? She just met you. Besides, I'm her teacher." He was right and you knew it, but you still weren't going to give up, so you decided to use your last and not very safe recourse.

You put your hand on his forearm and called his name. "Satoru, let me take her, okay?". You spoke to him in a sweet tone and felt him tense up a little. "Fine," he ended up agreeing resignedly and moved abruptly for you to stop touching him.

You helped the girl stand up and had her lean on you to carry her to the infirmary. "What the hell was that, I was dying from the pain and you guys were flirting!" she complained and you could only reply, "It's complicated."

TAG LIST: @nyfwyeonjun , @lenasvoid , @yyxy27 , @staygoldsquatchling02 , @whoami-72, @blackcatpandora.

#gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk gojo #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru #satorugojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk

[bigfan-fanfic]

Why Don't You Take a Seat? (Batdad Fanfic)

a one shot where batdad meets ra's al ghul for the first time and they have tea together, talk while waiting for bruce to arrive

"Please, Mr. Wayne. Have a seat." the strange man says.

It's bad enough that all your camera feeds have gone dark, the last you heard over comms from your family being the sounds of combat with mysterious assassins.

"It's not generally customary for the guest to offer a seat to his host." you respond, causing the man to chuckle.

"That is certainly true. And in the same vein, not customary for the host to not know whom his guest may be. I am Ra's al Ghul."

You freeze, the name making your blood run cold.

He... looks far too young to be the same man that taught your husband back when he was training, but it wasn't like people would be scrambling to use the name of the Demon's Head.

"And you know my name, it seems."

"Of course. We have been watching you with great interest."

"That's news to me." you say, thanking your lucky stars that Alfred isn't here tonight - so that if you do end up dying, at least your boys will have a caretaker.

A few more assassins in dark clothing emerge from the shadows, setting up a tea service before vanishing. Seeing no other recourse, you sit across from him, watching as he pours your tea.

"You of course know I am well-acquainted with your husband?"

"Of course." you say, sipping at the delightful porcelain cup. "Though it would seem your daughter would prefer to better acquainted with him."

"I do apologize for Talia. She seems to think I would favor her more were she to produce a fitting heir."

"A fitting heir?

"Archaic terminology, to be sure. Successor would be the better word. For many a year now, I have entreated your husband to be my successor, though his unwillingness to kill makes him... ill-suited."

"And so Talia..."

"Believes that should she and Bruce form a union, they may together bear a child that inherits both of their-"

"That's... not how having kids works."

"Indeed. I personally prefer that my successor show their worth through deed rather than breeding."

"So...may I ask why you've been watching me?"

"Of course. You see, the League of Shadows often examines civilization - which parts of it are worth sparing, and which parts have become too corrupted, too fallen, and must be purged. Gotham is one such city."

You balk at the idea of the League having so much power - more than Bruce had estimated when he told you about them.

"It was Thomas and Martha Wayne who, nigh-singlehandedly, kept this city afloat among the iniquity and vice of its underbelly. When they were murdered, we assumed the hope of the city had been slaughtered with them."

"But who should arrive on the scene but a young upstart with no other connection to Gotham high society but his bosom friendship and young romance with its de facto prince? You, my dear Mr. Wayne, took charge of this city and became its champion. Even among the cesspool of calumny and disdain, you have lit a beacon of truth. The last bastion of such things."

"That can't be true. I'm not the only one doing things to help." you protest. Ra's smirks indulgently, like an uncle tutting at the presumptive modesty of a favorite nephew.

"You refer to your husband?"

"Not solely. There are others trying to make a difference. Like Dr. Thompkins or Commissioner Gordon."

"And yet you are the most notable, and not only does your wealth make you the most powerful, your intellect and tactical mind makes you the one most charged to affect change. I say your wealth, and not your husband's wealth, because as I know it, you have your own standing as CEO of Wayne Enterprises as well as the Wayne fortune."

"You have been doing your research."

"Indeed. The League is no simple assassins' guild, my dear. We guide the direction of the world, in what we hope to be a favorable direction. I have been remiss in the past century, allowing the world to languor this way, what with its global warming and its wars of convenience and profit. I have intended to change it through drastic action, but... you have intrigued me. Perhaps there are... other ways. No great man truly wishes to end the life of another, and should it be rendered unnecessary, our sword can be stayed."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... your way. Gotham has seen a marked turn under your direction and manipulation. Perhaps not an instant one, but a noticeable one. To us, a favorable one."

"So you're saying that Gotham's survival is... totally dependent on me?"

"For now, yes. But that may change. The reason I sent Talia to distract your husband is because I wished to get the measure of you for myself. I admit, I once considered you nothing more than an emotional chain tethering Bruce to foolish sentimentality, but I came to appreciate your tactic. Far less brutal, and one I will also admit I dismissed. I have held a sword for so long, I forgot the utility of other tools."

"So... you want to work with me?" you frown, tilting your head.

"Indeed. We have much to learn from each other, and with the combination of our approaches, we may find a greater progress than we would in conflict."

"Combination of our approaches? You mean killing people?"

"You cannot deny it would be expedient."

"Even if I accepted that, it'd be the wrong approach, even practically! Just killing the people that stand in our way would create chaos, AND it wouldn't guarantee change the way systemic reform would!"

"See why you would be invaluable?" Ra's grins, unperturbed. "However, one could argue that your systemic reform could be hastened by removing those that would prove obstacles to it."

"Or it could jeopardize the movement by giving the opposition martyrs."

"Ha!" Ra's barks out a laugh of genuine delight. "You remind me of someone I once knew. She would never let my mind rest for a moment when she disagreed with me, nor would she let me hide behind pretty words or turns of phrase."

"Sounds like you need someone like that around you." You chuckle, and Ra's smirks in agreement.

"Indeed I do. Will you join the League of Shadows?"

"I hope this isn't the kind of offer that's only got one answer."

"For once, I will accept either answer. A 'no' now may become a 'yes' in the future."

"Then I shall take some time to consider."

"Indeed. I believe your husband is about to join us anyway..."

Ra's seemed a sensible, charming man when you first met him, but it was impossible to ignore how menacing he could be - how many atrocities he had already committed and planned to commit.

Indeed, though he allowed Talia to continue pursuing Bruce, it seemed he tried just as hard to woo you to his side.

In any case, it was never going to be the last time the al Ghul family became a part of your life...

#batdad x bruce #batdad reader #batman headcanons #headcanons #dc headcanons

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

seeing all these posts in canon jc tag saying how jc did better than madam yu ... pretty sure madam yu never hit jc (did she? if im wrong tell me xd but still he'd be the same if she did cuz he hits jin ling in anger multiple times), or expose him to herself torturing innocent people to death so much that jc would be used to smuggling them out... yea jin ling and his relationship turned out better no thanks to him tho, jin ling got lucky to be more jin than jiang tbh cuz majority of his time would be at the sect he's heir of and jc does love jin ling unconditionally but madam yu in all her abusive glory also loved jc unconditionally, like jc was willing to die for jin ling, madam yu was willing to die for him too, that aint undoing the harm the two adults ended up doing to the two kids in the scenario at least in the emotional sense, and aint no way ppl are saying hes doing better than her, hes at least on the same level in lack of affection cuz jin ling was so unused to being even hugged or how to handle a hug the barest of affections jin ling turned out better and grew purely on his own effort coz jc sure wasnt setting any positive examples for him-

It seems to be implied that Madam Yu herself has no issue getting physically harsh with either of her own children as well,

1:

Madam Yu sent a look at Jiang Cheng. “Horsing around again? Come, let me have a look at you.”

Jiang Cheng scurried over, and Madam Yu squeezed his arm with her slender fingers before giving him a sound slap on the shoulder.

"Not a bit of progress in your cultivation. You’re almost seventeen and still acting like an ignorant child! Running around with this lot, doing mischief all day—do you think you’re the same as them? Hell knows which gutters they’ll be crawling in in the future, but you’ll be the leader of the Jiang Clan!”

Jiang Cheng staggered from the force of her slap. He hung his head, not daring to argue back.

2:

"Sorry!” said Wei Wuxian loudly. “I didn’t know shijie would come! I’ll go look for my clothes right now!”

Madam Yu was even more incensed. “You dare run from me?! Get the hell back here and kneel!”

As she spoke, she cracked her whip. A searing pain spread down Wei Wuxian’s back.

"Yowch!” he exclaimed aloud. The pain was so intense it almost sent him rolling on the ground.

Just then, Madam Yu heard a soft voice ask, “Mom, do you want some watermelon…?”

Jiang Yanli’s sudden appearance startled Madam Yu. With this delay, the group of little brats had vanished without a trace. Madam Yu was so infuriated she turned to pinch Jiang Yanli’s cheeks.

Eat, eat, eat. That’s all you know!”

The pinch made Jiang Yanli’s eyes water. Vaguely, she said, “Mom. A-Xian and the rest were hiding here to cool off. I came looking for them on my own, so don’t blame them… Do…do you want some watermelons…? I don’t know who sent them over, but they’re very sweet. Eating watermelon in summer can relieve the heat and quench your fire. They’re sweet and juicy. I’ll slice some for you…”

Violence seems to be an unfortunate overarching theme regarding the Jiang Family and how they exhibit any emotional behavior. Madam Yu each time she is on page is the main instigator of physical punishments and pain out of anger, Jiang Cheng seeing her as his own role model follows this same pattern with Jin Ling. The above passage of Madam Yu'a introduction as a parental figure and Jiang Cheng is terribly similar to what we get for Jiang Cheng's introduction as Jin Ling's uncle and a caretaker,

"Since Hanguang-jun wants to punish you, take the lesson this once. It’s not easy for him, either, to manage the juniors from another clan.”

His tone was sarcastic, but it was unclear to whom it was directed. Lan Wangji, who never responded to such provocation, ignored him.

Jiang Cheng turned, his voice scathing. “What are you standing around for? Waiting for the prey to run into your sword itself? If you can’t catch the creature here on Mount Dafan tonight, then you needn’t come to me again in the future!"

And to answer the main point of your ask, no, Jiang Cheng is not any better towards Jin Ling and how he treats him. He treats him exactly as Madam Yu did with Jiang Cheng. With cruel ever changing expectations that were too high for a child to ever be reasonably expected to achieve without help or the care that should have been exhibited to raise a confident child. Jiang Cheng took the role of his mother in all ways and superimposed his life onto Jin Ling as well. Generational trauma is not always easy to of course pick up when you have grown within that environment. Yes you may know something is not "normal" as you interact with others but it's hard to name or describe why. Jiang Cheng thought of his mother respectfully despite her own many flaws, generational deference is difficult to question when that is all you have known until you are in a better environment to explore and comfortably learn despite being less than grand in execution. Jiang Cheng did not get that chance in life, but he does finally let Jin Ling have that as Jin Ling seeks out Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji for nighthunts to learn from.

Unconditional love isn't always a saving grace, and that is an unfortunate reality of life that not all love is always good or healthy despite how very much you love them or each other. Unconditional love can be selfish cruel and hurtful in the ways that people choose to express it when they don't want to be better for their loved ones. The play of trauma and victim blaming is terrible when you are both the abuser and victim and continue that cycle.

The only thing that Jiang Cheng "did better" than Madam Yu, was living to let go of his hates and insecurities enough to stop imposing them on to Jin Ling as well so the child could grow better and with actual role models that encourage a nurturing non-mocking environment first and foremost.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #you dare to argue that this is just how ethnic mothers show love #I will fucking manifest in your house in the middle of the night to bite your head off #fuck madam yu #canon jiang cheng #jin ling

[abyssal-ali]

Gold Rush

Ship: Timari

Rating: G

WC: ~1.0k

A/N: this was written probably two years ago (?) and kinda rushed, so it's not my best work. I did edit a bit and any mistakes or bad plot is mine and not my lovely beta-readers', @kitsun369 and @mothofhearts

Constructive criticism accepted (but please be nice) and any feedback is great!💜

Inspired partially by Taylor Swift's song, Gold Rush. If you recognize little nods to certain lyrics, congratulations! My symbolism didn't go to waste.

For @the-coffee-fandom, @velveteenshadow, @forgottenfriends, @timinette-is-best, @miraculousmelodies and all the other Timari Coven fiends.

Marinette eyed Lila over the rim of her punch glass. She was talking flirtatiously with the host of their trip to Gotham, Wayne Enterpsises' CEO Tim Drake.

Marinette had hoped that he'd use his internationally famous genius to see through Lila's facade, but it seemed like the liar had another victim of her honeyed tongue. At least this time she wouldn't be lying when she bragged about knowing the Timothy Drake (even though everything Lila said after that probably wouldn't be true).

Marinette and Tim had met at the pre-party meet-and-greet, where their hosts formally introduced themselves to their Parisian guests. Marinette had met his eyes as they shook hands and promptly fell into his sparkling ocean-blue eyes that twinkled with amusement at her flushed face. She furiously willed away the heat creeping up her neck and into her cheeks, hoping it wouldn't come back every time she looked at him.

He was quite charismatic and she knew he was one of the most sought-after dates, a handsome heir to two multi-million dollar companies....handsome? She thought beautiful fit him better, with his expressive eyes and lean yet muscled build and hair casually falling into place over his eyes when he shook his head, laughing at a guest's joke.

No, bad Marinette. She had an online boyfriend, and they were going to make it official when they met in person. She was not going to do anything more than admire her host's looks.

Between the meet-and-greet and dancing/socializing part of the party was a fancy dinner, where Marinette sat opposite Tim and they had a delightful discussion.

It kind of reminded her of her DMs with her gaming partner/online boyfriend, RRBurgers (she called him RR). They typed about anything and everything and often debated random things just for fun, to test their wits.

Tim had said something—she was sure it was purposely controversial—and she'd ached to begin a war of words, but responded more mildly than she liked. He had looked surprised, then thoughtful, when she refused to verbally spar with him.

They'd brushed fingers as they crossed paths, completely by accident, and Marinette promptly increased her speed, heading to the powder room to silently talk to herself (and Tikki).

She was in love with RR and didn't need to fall for gorgeous eyes and perfect smiles.

Now, she was seeing red—or at least a shade of rose, the colour of Lila's surprisingly unostentatious dress—as she spied on Mr. Drake and Lila's flirting.

She drained her punch in an annoyed swig, moving to the balcony, and looked at the stars until her jealousy cooled. If Mr. Drake couldn't see Lila for who she was, he deserved her, she told herself.

With a sigh, she leaned on the railing and pulled out her phone to play a round of her favourite game.

She stiffened when Mr. Drake appeared at her elbow. How had she not heard him approach? Then again, the ambient chatter and music were noisy.

“You play well."

“Thanks.” She finished her round (a win) and returned her phone to her purse.

"You play Knights of Mirreile?” Mr. Drake obviously wasn't taking her silence as a hint, or else he was outright ignoring her body language.

“Yes. You know it?”

“I joined to practice my French with native speakers. I'm on the Parisian server, actually—my handle is RRBurgers.” He looked at her curiously.

She took a step back. “RR? I'm LadybugandtheTramp!”

He held out his hand. “Hi, Lady. I'm RR; thrilled to meet you in person.”

She shook it, willing her returning blush to retreat. “Wait a minute...tell me three things only RR and Lady know. Just to be sure.”

Tim grinned at her. “You're wise; this is Gotham, after all.

"Uh, une: I contacted you first, to ask you to teach me some hacks.

"Deux: You have PTSD from Hawkmoth and often can't sleep, so you game, because you don't like sewing as much anymore.

"Trois,” he lowered his voice and stepped closer. Marinette could feel his body heat, even though the air was crisp. “We're a couple in Mireille and when we are planning to meet and date in person. You told me you were in love with me twenty-two days ago, and I replied that I was in love with you too.”

Marinette could barely breathe when she saw the intense look in his eyes. “Uh...I guess you are RR...I'm so glad to finally meet you in person, although it's sooner than I was expecting! You're even cuter than I imagined.”

She enjoyed the pink on his face instead of hers more than she should have.

"Will you go on a date with me tomorrow, Lady?”

"I'd love to!"

" But until tomorrow, would you care to spend our time together dancing?"

The red on Tim's neck spread and Marinette giggled. "Who taught you how to be so smooth? I almost fell for you all over again."

Tim winked at her, took her hand, and led her to the dancefloor. Marinette silently thanked Chloe for insisting on teaching her how to properly waltz, at least.

As they swirled around the room, he complained in her ear. “I talked with Lila. You're right—I can't believe what she made up! When I asked for clarification, the lies got more outrageous! I am so sorry for your suffering.”

Shyly, she admitted, “I was a little jealous of the attention you were paying her. I thought your smarts could see through her but it didn't look like it—you're a good actor."

“Thanks, I have to be.”

At her puzzled look, he explained, “In business meetings, you've got to keep a poker face, especially when you're a young businessperson like me.”

“Oh,” she nodded. “I understand that."

She relished in the angry look Lila sent their way as they twirled past her. Maybe Tikki's powers did rub off on her, building up to this moment. For some reason, she felt secure in the knowledge that she was safe and could be herself.

When she had first met RRBurgers online, she was prepared to keep her distance from him emotionally. It had been just after Ladybug and her team defeated Hawkmoth and she was depressed and suffering PTSD, gaming when she couldn't sleep or had nightmares. But RR had somehow wormed his way into her good graces with his nerdy jokes and similar lifestyle and whacky stories about his family, and the next thing she knew she had a big crush.

They gradually grew closer, DMing every day, and RR had really encouraged her in a way her old friends hadn't been able to do. She had changed a lot after being Ladybug, but they still saw her as Past Marinette. RR was a virtual friend, a blank slate, and knew Present Marinette.

He'd encouraged her to stop sewing if she didn't have a passion for it anymore and not be bound by people's expectations of Past Marinette, but show them Present Marinette.

She hadn't been brave enough to completely act like Present Marinette, but with Tim encouraging her from her side instead of over a screen, she thought she could try now.

Tonight was as good a place to start as any. She approached Lila, Tim's arm around her waist. "Hey, Lila, I see you've met Tim's brother, Dick. Have you told him about that time you heroically saved Jagged's kitten yet?"

~~le fin~~

#Mlbxdc #Dcxmlb #Maribat #Timari #ali writes #Fic #I hope y'all like it!! #Inspired by Taylor Swift

[clockwork-ashes]

All Things End - Part II

Find Part I here :)

Summary: Everyone knows her as the Lady of Autumn, but before she had a title, she hoped she could marry for love.

Callista knew at once that the young male on her hidden balcony was from the Day Court. If the dark red chiton and laced sandals hadn’t given it away, the golden crown fashioned to look like the rays of the sun would have. From where she was standing, it looked like he was gazing up at the stars. He hadn’t noticed her yet, and it would have been easy for her to simply turn around and sneak away, but Callista found she did not want to. 

“I see someone else has found this lovely little hiding spot,” she said, hoping that he wouldn’t find it too forward of her. In Autumn, it was strictly forbidden to speak to anyone had you not already been formally introduced to them. 

The young male’s head turned sharply at the sound of her voice, whiskey coloured eyes wide in surprise. “Lady Callista,” he managed to say, looking like he’d much rather pitch himself from the balcony than have to spend another second longer in her company. 

Callista recognized him at once as the quiet, bookish son of the High Lord of Day. How he remembered her, she couldn’t guess. She supposed they had met for a moment, earlier in the week, glad that at least if anyone happened to wander upon them, all the proper introductions had been made. Callista wouldn’t have thought that a High Lord’s heir would remember her and she was quite pleased by the fact. 

She flashed him a genuine smile and dipped in an elegant curtsy, “Lord Helion.” When she looked back up at Helion, his expression reminded Callista of a deer in the woods that had just spotted a wolf. She feared if she spoke again he might bolt, so instead of saying anything, Callista tilted her head just a bit, taking in his clothes once more. The attire of the other courts fascinated her, especially the courts with warmer weather. In Autumn, everyone always dressed so that as little skin as possible could be seen. All the males laced their shirts up to their throats, and all females wore skirts that fell to the floor. Seeing someone's forearms was a great offence, and seeing someone’s knees was practically a sin. 

“I should leave,” Helion spoke into the near-silent night, his voice lovely. The rustling leaves of the nearby forest and the soft music drifting out from the ballroom could be heard. If Callista had known the Day Court heir better, she would have thought he sounded a bit nervous. 

“That’s hardly necessary,” Callista said, putting herself in his path. “There’s enough room on this balcony for two.” 

“You wouldn’t mind?” He asked, polite and reserved. He didn’t have that strange look on his face any more, and Callista was glad for it. He tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear, Callista’s eyes following the gesture. Even that seemed to be a timid sort of action. Callista didn’t exactly know why, but she wanted him to stay. There was something incredibly familiar about the quiet heir of Day. 

“As long as you promise not to be unbearably tedious,” Callista responded with a grin. 

His answering laugh sent shivers up her spine. It was a quiet thing, warm and private, a laugh that seemed to be for her ears only. “I suppose the company in the ballroom hasn’t gotten any better, then?” 

“I daresay it’s gotten worse,” Callista replied, stepping past Helion so that she could throw herself dramatically against the little bench by the rails. 

Helion kept a respectful distance, leaning up against the balcony’s opposite wall. He nodded, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Callista’s eyes tracked the movement in a way that could hardly be deemed respectful, but Helion didn’t seem to notice. 

“Perhaps the company leaves little to be desired, but Autumn truly is quite lovely.” When Callista raised a questioning auburn brow at him, he cleared his throat, hand coming up to the back of his neck. “Present company excluded, of course.” 

Callista decided that she found his shyness quite charming. “Autumn really is beautiful,” she said with a smile. “And the people aren’t so bad once you get to know them.” 

“I meant no offence,” Helion said with a grimace. “I just–I don’t get out much.” 

Callista tilted her head, “What do you do, in Day? I’ve been, you know,” she added after asking her question.

“I study, mostly.” Even Callista knew he was a scholar. “I go to the beach when my sister or my friends drag me there. I spend a lot of time with my father, learning how to lead a court, and a lot of time with my mother, working in the archives or studying military strategy.” He shrugged, “Ordinary things, I suppose.” 

Callista caught the small detail about his mother, but decided that it wouldn’t be polite to ask him all the questions that were going through her head. “This is my first time in Autumn,” he added when Callista was too slow to come up with something to say. 

“And what are your thoughts?” Callista asked, genuinely curious. 

“I thought we liked jewellery in Day,” Helion said with a short laugh. “I was not expecting those in Autumn to wear so many rings.” His eyes flicked to Callista’s hands, where she was sure the light was catching on the rubies of her adorned fingers.

“It’s a sign of wealth,” Callista said, raising her chin just a bit. “Even the poorest of the lesser fae adorn themselves in shining metals. It is simply how things are done in Autumn.” 

Helion nodded, twisting the cuff that hugged his bicep. Callista’s eyes caught the movement and she willed herself not to blush. “Everyone carries weapons with them, I’ve noticed,” Helion continued, entirely oblivious to the fact that Callista was struggling not to look at his bare arms. 

“Well of course,” Callista replied, thinking of the three knives she had hidden on her. She adjusted her right sleeve, the one with her throwing knife, and decided she would simply have to stare at Helion’s face to prevent herself from becoming too distracted by him. “Don’t you carry a weapon with you, prince?” She teased.

“Not usually,” Helion said, returning Callista’s smile with a shy one of his own. “I would hardly have the need for one in a library, and I certainly don’t have them on me at Equinox balls.” At the furrow of Callista’s brow, he asked in a surprised tone, “Do… Do you have a weapon on you?” 

“Many,” Callista waved her hand in a careless gesture. “One must always be prepared.” 

“Of course,” Helion said, trying and failing to keep the shock from his voice. Callista actually snorted at his expression, before remembering it was hardly appropriate. 

Just as she was about to apologise, Helion’s unguarded laughter had her blushing in truth. He had the loveliest smile. She could feel her cheeks burning, and she was sure that there were ember’s flaring in her russett gaze. He was really one of the most beautiful faeries Callista had ever seen, and she thought it would be nice to get to know him better, kind as he was. 

But all good things had to end eventually, Callista supposed. She was sure she’d actually gone well over Stasya’s half hour, and that, while it was unfair, she had to return to the ballroom. 

Callista sighed dramatically, standing with a tired huff. Helion watched as she smoothed her emerald skirts, and so she made a point to do so as gracefully as possible. “I must be getting back,” she declared, patting at her hair to ensure that all the golden, leaf-shaped combs were still in place. “My sister will have my head if I force her to distract the High Lord any longer.” Helion frowned, but didn’t ask her any questions. Callista lifted a brow at him, “You will remain here, I presume.” 

“I would hide out here all night if I didn’t think it would disappoint my mother,” he replied warmly. Helion took his crown off for a moment, running a hand through his hair, before he carefully placed it back. Callista wondered if the crown was heavy. With a shy smile, eyes flicking past Callista, he added, “I’ll see you inside?” 

Callista nodded, skirts in hand, as she stepped over the balcony’s threshold. “I’ll save you a dance.” She could practically hear the rapid beating of his heart as she ducked back into the hall. Callista knew it was very forward of her, telling the Day Court’s heir that she wished to dance with him, but she couldn’t exactly be bothered to care. 

All thoughts of Beron Vanserra, a rumoured engagement, and a disastrous evening had escaped her thoughts completely. Callista was thinking only of Helion Spell-Cleaver, a scarlet blush still staining her cheeks, as she walked back into the High Lord of Autumn’s ballroom.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #helion x loa #helion spell cleaver x the lady of autumn #helion spell cleaver #lady of the autumn court #the lady of the autumn #the autumn court #because i cannot stop thinking about that one line in #acowar #ashes writes sometimes

[what-if-queen-camilla]

Chapter 37

28th August 1996

"Darling!", Charles sighed breathlessly, pressing Camilla against his chest as tight as he could, never wanting to let loose of her again. Tears were running down his face, tears of joy and relief. "Darling, it's done. I'm free." He had driven down to Wiltshire as soon as the final divorce papers had been signed earlier that morning. He just wanted to be with her, he needed her, needed to feel her and kiss her and touch her. And how well he did it… Camilla couldn't suppress a little moan as he tenderly kissed her neck and pressed her against the wall, boisterously letting his hands wander all over her perfect body, keeping on kissing her passionately. "Darling…!", she gasped, chuckling. "What if Thea comes home from school?" "She won't for at least the next three hours…", Charles responded, gently pushing her up the stairs, continuing to kiss her, until they finally reached the second floor and eventually Camilla’s bedroom, sank down on the mattress and made love, tenderly, passionately, almost desperately, longing for each other and to be as close to each other as possible…

"So… now, that I'm a free man, will you marry me, darling?", Charles asked casually, holding her tightly, gently stroking her after they'd both been to heaven and back again. Camilla giggled and rolled her eyes. "Oh Darling… we might have to optimise that proposal first…", she chuckled, kissing his lips firmly. "You don't want me to get down on one knee, do you?", he asked, looking at her in disbelief, and his eyes widened as she casually declared: "Of course! What else?" For a moment, she left him speechless but then burst into laughter, rolling on top of him, kissing him again, first still chuckling and innocently, but then more passionately once more, and eventually, they made love for a second time that afternoon.

"But darling, given I… I did get down on one knee… and there were candles and roses and classical music…", he pondered as he held her in his arms again afterwards. "And… champagne… and all the things you like… would you say 'yes' to me?" Camilla smiled and cuddled up to him even closer, tenderly stroking his face. "Of course I would. I still would if you didn't get down on one knee. I love you and of course I want to be with you. But I think we'd better not rush things." "No, let's rather wait for another 24 years.", he said cynically, rolling his eyes and she laughed, pressing a firm kiss on his lips. "Idiot. I'm not talking about 24 years. But you haven't even been divorced for 24 hours. People should have time to get to terms with that first, don't you think? And not only the public. Also our children. Especially yours. I know how difficult a divorce is for the children involved and we should be careful and not too pushy with them and get it all done smoothly, you know?", she asked, looking at him with puppy eyes. "Darling…", he whispered, marvelling at her as if she was the greatest miracle he had ever seen. "You sound like a true Princess, you know. You're so clever. Caring, considerate, empathic… just the perfect future Queen.", he gushed but she pulled a face, turning away from him. "Stop this!", she almost begged. "Whatever happens, the one thing that is certainly never going to happen is… that." She couldn't even bring herself to say that word. "But, you know, I don't even need that. I'd be more than happy just to be Mrs Mountbatten-Windsor.", she sighed and this time it was him chuckling. "No, darling, you will be my Princess first, and then, one day, you'll be my Queen. That's just what happens if you marry the heir to the throne. Her Royal Highness The Princess of Wales. And one day… Her Majesty The…" Charles, no!", she interrupted and playfully boxed him. "If I really… must… have a title, can't I just be some sort of a Countess or Marchioness maybe? Like Fiona?" "Unfortunately, my darling, your future husband doesn't hold the title of a Marquess, so I'm afraid there's no chance for you to become a Marchioness, my beautiful darling. And for the Countess… I might be the Earl of Chester but… I can't have my future wife being outranked by her friends. So… you'll have to be a Duchess at least." "Of Cornwall, you mean?", she asked, knowing all of his titles and their respective "ranks" by heart; after the Prince of Wales, his second-highest title in England was the Duke of Cornwall with its female courtesy form Duchess of Cornwall. In Scotland it'll be the Duke and Duchess of Rothesay, which she quite liked if she was honest. "Yes. I'd still prefer you to be my Princess of Wales but if you really don't feel comfortable with that one, you could be known as the Duchess of Cornwall instead.", he promised her, sweetly kissing her forehead. Camilla sighed. It still sounded and fell all rather surreal to her and she couldn't see herself holding any kind of title other than "Mum", "Darling" or "Mrs…" But somehow life had brought her into this situation and if this really was her destiny, she was going to embrace it and give the very best she could - for the love of her life, and for their sweet little daughter. The thought of her brought along some other concerns.

"What will all of that mean for Thea, darling? What will change for her?", she asked insecurely "You know, we have just settled ourselves here and… she feels comfortable at school. She's got her friends, she likes her teachers… She's happy. And I don't want her to have to go through yet another major change. Perhaps we can… just let her finish primary school the way she's used to it and… arrange everything in time for her to start at a new school… wherever that may be… but so that she'll be able to finish something… properly. Before..." She tried to picture her and Thea's life as his official wife and more or less legitimate child and though she'd never had a lack of creativity or imagination, she couldn't really see that. Thea would probably be sent to an exclusive boarding school, as it was usually handled for girls from that circle, and she herself would move in with Charles, of course, possibly into his Apartment at St James's Palace, supporting him carrying out his duties, and it would probably be expected from her to get involved with some charitable causes as well, which actually wasn't an issue for her as she already was involved with some organisations anyway;

Following her mother's death, she had got in touch with the National Osteoporosis Society, a very small organisation based in Bath which wasn't far from where they lived, after their director Linda had so kindly reached out to her after hearing about her mother. She had sent her a charming letter and attached some literature which had so helped her and her family to understand what had been wrong with her mother during her final years and months, and it had also made her realise that her grandmother Sonia, who'd died the year before she had had Thea, must had suffered from the same disease as well. It had been a great comfort to know that they weren't alone in this and of course she had wanted to do what she could to help in return, though with her damaged public image she had been very cautious. However, last year in September, before that dreaded interview and all of the revelations, she had hosted a soiree at Bowood House, Fiona and Charlie's home, in order to raise funds for the charity and to her very surprise the event had been quite a success which had eventually caused Linda to ask her whether she would like become the charity’s patron - which she had considered a joke at first - but Linda had assured her that she really meant it and that Camilla had already proven just how much good she’d do the organisation by having helped over 10,000 pounds with the soiree plus the 12,500 pounds - her half of the settlement she and Andrew had got from “The Sun” after they had sued the magazine for having published personal pictures which had been stolen from them - by their long-standing and trusted, former housekeeper at Middlewick House who had sealed them to the newspaper for 25,000 pounds. The Sun had paid them same amount as a "compensation" but no money in the world could have ever compensated the intrusive and humiliating violation of their privacy, so she had given her entire half of it to the NOS, hoping that at least something good could come out of it all, so eventually she had agreed and had become their patron earlier that year. She had not yet quite figured out what exactly her new role was going to include but she really wanted to do what she could to raise awareness of what her own, and so many other families out there, were going through and if it also helped to improve her damaged image, and therefore Charles and their children, she was ready to get it started.

*Side Notes:

• Charles and Diana did get divorced on 28th August 1996

• From then, Diana was know as "Diana, Princess of Wales" which was a courtesy title. Had Charles remarried when she was still alive, his new wife would likely have been The Princess of Wales nonetheless, because he was The Prince of Wales. However, she could've still decided to be known by one of his lower ranked titles, just as Camilla did when she married I'm in 2005 and chose to be known as HRH The Duchess of Cornwall. She was still The Princess of Wales, though she didn't use it.

• Everything about Camilla's involvemt with the NOS is true. The stolen pictures published in The Sun, the settlement and compensation, and her quietly giving her half to the NOS. The soiree also happened as described.

#king charles #queen camilla #royal family #royal baby #fanfiction #fanfic #andrew parker bowles

[missvelvetsstuff]

Guarded Heart

Summary: Y/N is the daughter of a powerful mob boss who only cares about her horses and making it to the Olympics but her father expects her to marry an equally powerful boss to help strengthen his business. Bucky is looking for a wife to help his business and give him an heir but already has a long term girlfriend, Natasha.

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Bucky x Nat, Reader x Thor

Chapter 14

Warnings: Angst, swearing, death, violence

Notes: Sorry! Please don't hate me.

Bucky had a black and white tailing him, sirens blaring, megaphone demanding he pull over but he ignored all of it, only caring about getting to Y/N before....he couldn't even let himself imagine the possibilities. He tried to calm his breathing and focus on the road. He wouldn't do Y/N any good if he got himself into an accident before he could get to her.

He saw flashing lights ahead of him, police and fire dept, thankful that they were already there. Bucky pulled over and jumped out of his car, looking frantically for any sign of her.

He let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding when he saw her, sitting in the back of an ambulance, Val right next to her with an arm holding a blanket around her shoulders and the other hand holding an oxygen mask to her face, as Y/N stared blankly into space. Val's shirt had been torn and a bloody bandage was wrapped around her left bicep.

Bucky almost ran through the police tape and a young uniformed officer tried to stop him, earning a glare from Bucky.

"I'm sorry sir, you can't come in. Police business."

Bucky snarled "Do you fucking know who I am? Are Fury, Coulson or May here? You better-"

"Barnes!"

Bucky looked towards the voice and saw Captain Nick Fury, Detectives Phil Coulson and Melinda May in his wake.

"What did I tell you about terrorizing the 'boots? Leave the kid alone." Fury looked to the young officer "Don't worry kid, Barnes is alright. That's his fiance in the ambulance, let him in."

Bucky nodded at Fury in thanks and raced to Y/N's side. "Hey doll, you alright?"

When she didn't respond or react at all he looked to Val questioningly. She shook her head, not wanting to get back into the details in front of Y/N.

"She's in shock" Val told him softly "It was pretty bad. Physically she's fine but....."

Bucky nodded "Right. I'll be back" and went to talk to Fury.

Fury was talking to someone on the phone and Bucky started looking around while he waited. There were a few bloodied white sheets covering the remains of the fallen. He shook his head, they should have waited until Dreykov was handled to move her or at least had a couple of other cars around her. Or something.

Bucky heard Fury's voice going up before he ended his call and muttered "motherfucker" before he noticed Bucky was still there.

"So what happened here, Nick? Val called me so I know they had a flat and Thor had to stop." He stopped for a moment after mentioning his name and looked around for the hulking blonde. When he didn't see him he looked at Fury who grimaced and shook his head.

Bucky felt his heart drop "No wonder she isn't talking. Thor was probably closer to her than anyone. It's bad enough she has to deal with losing her father, then her arm but he was her main support, rehabilitating is gonna be much harder for her."

Bucky looked around and saw her, still unmoving, unseeing and he swore "Fucking Hell! You have Coulson and May keep an eye on Y/N and Val. I'm going back to the warehouse"

Fury raised an eyebrow "I didn't hear a damn thing about any warehouse but don't worry, we've got her." And patted Bucky on the shoulder.

When Bucky got back in his SUV he called Steve who answered on the 3rd ring "Yeah Buck? We're a little busy over here. What's the word?"

"Things are handled here, it's not great but she's ok, physically at least. Do me a favor and keep Dreykov alive for me, I need to have a talk with him."

Steve sighed "I can't make any promises but I'll do what I can." And the call disconnected.

Bucky looked back at Y/N, she still hadn't moved, seemed almost catatonic. He shook his head, fighting with himself over his next moves. He felt like he should be there for her but right now she probably wouldn't notice and he still felt a strong need to hurt Dreykov and Pierce for what they had done.

He finally decided he would be more useful here. One more person wouldn't tip the balance of the fight but maybe he could be there for her. If nothing else he could make sure she gets home safely and that her house was secure.

He climbed out of his SUV and stomped back to Fury "Nevermind what I said, I'm staying with her."

Fury shrugged, indifferent to the man's internal struggle. As long as Bucky didn't interfere with their investigation he didn't care either way.

"Looks like someone threw some nails on the road about half a mile back, causing the flat. Then while they were stopped a car drove by shooting, Thor hit them first but they hit him, repeatedly. That's the black sedan across the street. Registered to Pierce industries."

Bucky looked over and nodded, then looked to Nick to continue.

Fury nodded "At least 2 more cars drove by. Val hit one of the drivers, that's the car on its side, in the middle of the road up there. Also registered to Pierce. Seems sloppy using cars registered to his business." He pointed.

Bucky looked where he was pointing and grunted "Unless he wants everyone to know he was behind it. Where's the 3rd car?"

Fury shook his head "Val said she saw it but was hit in the arm and knocked back. Couldn't see them by the time she got up."

Bucky took a breath "Any shooters found alive? Someone we can talk to?"

"No. They're all either dead or took off. Once we get this mess cleared out I'll be going to talk to Mr Pierce about his cars involvement."

Bucky scoffed "With any luck he'll be dead by days end."

Nick gave him a dirty look "Dammit Barnes you know I can't know that shit. I don't want to hear it out in the open like this." He paused for a moment "What are you going to do with your girl? She needs to be checked out."

Bucky thought for a second "I'm taking her home. To my parents. I don't know how safe her house is without Thor and I don't know who of her father's men can be trusted. My mom and sister are there and it's like a damn fortress. Plus it's closer.

Think you could give us an escort? I need to get her there as quickly and safely as possible."

Nick nodded "Let me call some patrol-"

Bucky cut him off "No. I don't know who on the force I can trust. I need you, Coulson and May."

Nick gave him a look and started to speak but Bucky cut him off again "Please Nick? She's been through the wringer and I need people I know I can trust."

Nick rolled his eyes "Fine. Get her to your SUV and lets get this done."

"Just give me a minute" and Bucky stalked over to the ambulance where Y/N and Val hadn't moved.

Val looked up at him and shook her head "Nothing yet, she hasn't moved or spoken."

Bucky sighed "Alright well we're going to my parents place with a police escort." He looked at Y/N and spoke softly so he didn't startle her.

"Hey doll, it's Jamie. We need to go someplace safe so I'm gonna take you to my truck and we're going to my parents. Mom and Becca are already there and it's very safe."

Y/N finally reacted and looked up at him whispering "What about Thor?" Tears filling her eyes.

Bucky swore softly "I'm so sorry sweetheart but he's not coming. He-"

"He's dead isn't he? He was just trying to protect me and it's all my fault. I just wanted to go home." Tears ran down her face and her body shook.

Bucky tried to rub her back but she flinched and he backed off. "No Y/N. It's not your fault and I promise the people behind this will pay but right now I need to get you somewhere safe." he held his hand out "Please come with me so I can take care of you."

She shook her head "I can't just leave him here and I don't care if I'm safe. What does it matter if he's gone?"

Bucky was desperate "Please doll, I just want to take care of you."

She looked at him, shook her head and tried to speak but the sobs overwhelmed her. She finally relented and took his outstretched hand and meekly followed him to his SUV, letting him help her in and fasten her seatbelt. Val climbed into the back seat next to her.

Bucky looked at Fury who nodded and he started the SUV when he saw 3 black and whites turn the lights on. Fury pulled out in front, Bucky followed with May next to him and Coulson behind. He called his mother to let her know they were coming and ask her to call Dr Cho to meet them.

They drove as quickly as traffic allowed before finally pulling into the Barnes garage.

Bucky told Val to wait with Y/N while he made sure everything was clear. Once he was sure he took Y/N into the house. Helen Cho arrived right after and followed them up.

Dr Cho checked Y/N out, made sure her left shoulder was healing well and gave her a sedative to help her sleep.

Winnie Barnes had drawn a warm bath with some lavender bath salts to soothe Y/N and some comfortable clothes for her to put on after. Becca led her to the bathroom and helped her undress and into the bath. Once she was done Becca took Y/N to Bucky's room, where Winnie had already turned down the bed and had turned on the electric blanket to warm it up.

Y/N looked up at her "I know it was all my fault. I'm sorry your family was dragged into this." Then drank the tea Becca brought up and laid down on her right side.

Becca covered her up "No. It's Dreykovs fault, you've just been caught up in the crossfire.

Do you want me to stay with you?"

Y/N shook her head "I'm sure you have better things to do. I just need to be alone and get some sleep."

Becca nodded and went downstairs to find her mother and brother at the dining room table. "She's not doing well. Told me it's all her fault and apologized for getting our family involved." Becca looked at Bucky "She knows its not her fault, right?"

Bucky sighed "I'm sure she does know, she's just in shock and not thinking straight. Her trainer, Thor, was killed protecting her and she's not taking it well." He paused "They were very uh close."

Winnie nodded, understanding. "We will just have to be here for her. Have you spoken to her mother? If you haven't then someone needs to let her know. Nevermind, I'll call her"

She left the room to make the call and returned a few minutes later "Becca. Can you make sure the guest room is ready for company. Y/N's mother is on her way. James, you'll have to sleep in the den or double up with Steve."

Bucky groaned "Fine but only for her"

His phone started ringing and he looked at it before answering "Dad." And left the room to take the call.

Five minutes later he returned "Dad needs me. I'll be back when I can. Please take care of her for me." He kissed his mother on the cheek as he left the house and told Val to keep watch inside while his men Morita, Dugan and Falsworth were outside.

Bucky pulled his car out of the garage and said a little prayer that Y/N would be alright.

@bigphattygyal @cjand10 @lokiandbuckysdoll @kimomoraba @avery199 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @esposadomd @sebsgirl71479

Chapter 15

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #mob!au #reader x thor #angst with a happy ending

[sidonisms]

@gioandvanni replied to your post “I made myself a BotW/TotK Sheik because I miss him”:

I love your Shiek! Is there any lore accompanied with him? :o

Thank you so much!!

There is!! I wanted to include it with the post but ended up opting out!! I apologize if this is a little messy!!

My AU Sheik is quiet, blunt, and a tad surly. Despite being somewhat rude (though it's unintentional) he's considered very reliable by the other members of the village. Before Link appeared, he was the one who handled the problems in the Journal of Various Worries.

He's an excellent ninja, thanks to the training he received from Impa. Even with her only being able to teach him through verbal instructions, he excelled. Through learning the abilities of a Sheikah warrior, he's become somewhat disillusioned with their role and the fact that've "lost their teeth."

How he would function in game below the cut!!

BotW -

Unless Link has defeated at least one Divine Beast, Sheik won't speak to him and will only respond with "...." when being interacted with. He's almost always playing his harp near the goddess statue.

Opinions on him are split between the adults and children. The adults sigh that his skills have made him cold and arrogant while the children say he's a softie.

Cado will comment that if he lost the attitude, he could be the next guard for Lady Impa but his bluntness would offend any guest she would have.

Cottla on the other hand says that he's always playing with her and Koko and calls him big brother Sheik. Cottla thinks that if the adults tried to listen to him instead of speaking for him they'd get along better.

Once Link does defeat a Divine Beast, Sheik will finally begin to talk to him, apologizing for being rude and ignoring him. With the world in jeopardy from the Calamity again, Sheik is fed up with the village's seclusion and pacifism and wants to help fight but doesn't want to leave the village vulnerable without him.

He's glad there's at least one warrior in Hyrule that's capable of fighting back the Calamity and he confides in Link that if he could, he would like to serve as Princess Zelda's bodyguard when she's freed

During BotW he's a young man with a lot he feels he has to prove

TotK -

In TotK, Sheik has come into his own a lot more. Rather than listlessly playing his harp, he patrols Kakariko Village. He's almost always on edge, keeping an eye out for Yiga members. He's vocally against the Zonai survey team being in the village because of his worry that the Yiga could be hiding among them.

Despite this, he's serving as Paya's eyes and ears, acting as a spy/bodyguard to the village chief, something that he did for Impa after the defeat of Calamity Ganon. Though he still wishes he was serving Zelda, she was the one who gave him the role of protecting her dear friend and her heir, some he didn't complain.

He has a side quest with Link when he tells Link that he spotted a Yiga camp up in the mountains and wants to go with Link to destroy it. After doing so, Sheik tells Link he's finally had enough. The world is growing more and more dangerous and he refuses to wait to be saved again.

Following this, a scene with Sheik talking to Paya begins. He apologizes to her but says he needs to leave the village. Abandoning his duty and leaving just Dorian to protect Paya shames him but he can't sit by anymore when the world is on the road to ruin. He kneels to Paya, requesting permission to leave his post and start taking the fight to their enemies. Paya agrees on the condition that when he's done, he comes home safely.

After the event, he'll be at Lookout Landing, patrolling the walls. When Link speaks to him he seems much happier and comments that the world feels so much bigger now. He makes Link promise that when the battle really kicks off, he'll tell him so they can fight together.

#gioandvanni #sheik

[sanfangirl-cynicalromantic]

The Lady Knight | Chapter 3

It's here guys! For those of you who are following the story on AO3, you'll know it is long overdue, so, you know, thank you for putting up with me 😅

tagging @mialicassi, @katergator84, @triumphantfury, @bi-bi-want-dragon, @borrassofi, @macheriemila thank you so much for your support and patience and kind words!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Read on AO3 here

A full year passed in the Berk Guard, scouring almost every inch of Berk twice. Astrid’s twentieth birthday was coming up, and she knew it was time to return to her parents for the celebration. Hiccup was resigning, too, for the King had only given him leave for a year, so ended their enjoyable stint with the Guard.

“I’ll be sorry to see you go,” Throk told her solemnly in his official office in the palace. It was practically sterile - the walls scrubbed shiny and clean with no adornments, yet with that undercurrent of steady kindness and gentility Throk bore.

“Stay a little bit?” Hiccup pleaded with her as she packed her bags, planning to sleep a night in the castle before leaving for the Hofferson estate. She felt her treacherous heart give a little thump at him asking her to stay, with him being implied. Time had passed since she’d realized the truth of her feelings for him, and they had never gone away. In fact, admitting she was in love with him had made everything so much worse for herself. How was it possible to fall more in love with every interaction, no matter how small or mundane?

“It’s only till the end of the week,” he persuaded. “You’ll still make it home with plenty of time for your birthday, and who knows the next time I’ll get you to suffer alongside me at balls?”

That put a damper on her mood. For that was the thing; with Astrid’s nephew Gunnar, there was a proper heir to inherit, and Astrid’s parents were keen to have Astrid resume her rightful identity and reintroduce their daughter to society. She’d probably never have conniving mothers trying to set her up with their silly daughters ever again. But Hiccup did not have that luxury, and she felt a surge of irritation.

“Fine,” she snapped before her mind caught up to her mouth and realized what she had agreed to.

“Oh my gosh Hofferson thank you so much you’re a lifesaver-”

“One night,” Astrid stressed. Hiccup pouted, and she was momentarily riveted by the sight of his lips pushed together distractingly.

“Better than nothing,” Hiccup shrugged cheerfully, and Astrid felt an affectionate smile trying to worm its way onto her face before she quashed it.

She was now more accustomed to attending balls as an eligible young man, and resolved to dance at least three times before refusing any more advances to keep suspicion off of her.

(Besides, each of those dances was keeping at least one young lady away from the extremely eligible prince - not that that mattered to her at all. Or, at least, it shouldn’t matter. It was getting harder to lie to herself.)

As she danced with the second lady of the night, she spied Lady Heather making her way over to the Prince. They didn’t dance, just stood there talking, but Astrid was secure in her knowledge of Heather that it didn’t bother her - much. Across the ballroom, sipping his glass contentedly and nodding amicably at passers by, was Eret.

She joined him as soon as the dance ended. “Long time no see,” she greeted him, punching his arm lightly. “How goes your night?”

“It goes well,” he responded blithely. “A party at the palace, a promotion in the army, wonderful food, and pretty girls. What more’s a man to ask for?”

“I don’t know, have you danced with the elusive Lady Heather yet?” Astrid asked coyly. “She looks exceptionally lovely tonight.” Eret cast her a dark, guarded look that made Astrid snigger internally. She knew their secret romance was blossoming, and Eret’s reaction only proved how much more invested he was in the lady than he let on.

“Oh please,” Astrid guffawed. “I have no interest in her. I’m much more interested in this promotion you mentioned, in fact. Tell me about that.”

Eret’s face relaxed back into a smile. “Ah, it’s nothing,” he said modestly.

“Such things happen every day,” Astrid waved her hand in mock-dismissiveness. Eret was silent for a beat, and then:

“I’ve been made Captain of my own division,” he gushed. Astrid nodded sedately along, but she, too, was thrilled.

“That’s amazing,” she threw a congratulatory elbow at him. “What do . . . the DeRange’s think of this development?” Eret froze and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Why would I care what they think?” he asked stiffly. Astrid raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

“I was the one to fetch you for Heather, you think I didn’t stay to find out why?” she asked dryly. Eret deflated.

“Why’d she send you anyway?” he asked, a little sullenly. Astrid hesitated.

“Would you have gone to meet her if you’d known she was the one who wanted to see you?” Astrid pointed our. “And, let’s just say, Heather and I know each other . . . well enough, better than some, and she had something on me that convinced me to do her a favor,” she concluded mysteriously.

“What?” Eret probed, eyes brightening at the chance to embarrass her.

“No,” she said flatly.

“Come on, Hofferson! You know mine!”

“Whose fault is that? Your vigilance is terrible.”

“Oh, shut up.”

.oOo.

Hiccup didn’t like balls at the best of times, but tonight felt especially painful. He tried to pay attention to all of the young ladies who were in front of him, smiling hopefully, but his mind kept straying to his friend, Hofferson. Astrid. Times were changing, and selfishly, he wanted to hang on to the support she had offered him these past few years.

What would it have been like if she had stayed a lady, he wondered. Would he have been dancing with her right now instead? He could have politely addressed her as Miss Hofferson and kissed her hand, while whispering Astrid into her ear and tucking her hair out of her face in private. But no, such a fantasy was ridiculous; surely, if she had never come to squire Training, he wouldn’t have been nearly as successful or respected, just the screw up he had been five years ago. Perhaps he would have been stuck in this same situation, glumly attempting to socialize with the ladies fluttering their overlong lashes at him while he pined for another woman from afar.

He was feeling uncommonly morbid tonight.

He tried to focus on the conversation in front of him. Lady Enid was a very sweet girl, barely sixteen, with heavily applied paints on her young face to make her look more womanly, hair piled precariously on her head, and her tiny torso squeezed into a tight corset in an effort to show off her little waist. Hiccup silently prayed she didn’t get a perfect marriage offer for another few years.

He managed to excuse himself and retreated to the edge of the ball room, hoping to catch Astrid and ridicule the event together - or better yet, leave it - only to find her already engaged with a lady who had finally managed to wheedle Sir Hofferson into a dance.

His eyes tracked their every movement, and not for the first time that night, he imagined what it would be like to be the one dancing with her, her hand in his, his hand on her waist, their faces too close together to be able to see anything else. He admired Hofferson greatly for her strength and determination and her will to fight; there was no one he’d trust more to have his back - either in a fight or whatever other situation they invariably found themselves in. But sometimes (oftentimes) he wished he could treat her like the lady she was alongside the warrior, and hold her with that intimate tenderness he longed to give her.

And it was ridiculous to be jealous of the lady dancing with his friend - it was clear Astrid was only dancing with her out of necessity and nothing else. But Hiccup couldn’t have dancing as an excuse to hold his friend around her waist. And Astrid surely would not welcome such attention from him: she did not care about the power of the crown, being content with her own power already. She was a serious warrior, and the last thing she needed was her one supporter trying to put her back into a wifely position. She was fond of him, he knew, and sometimes he’d indulged himself at night, replaying her rare smiles at him, imagining they were of a deeper affection than close friendship.

“Oh, you’re really down bad, aren’t you?” a low but feminine voice chuckled near his ear. He turned, startled, to face Lady Heather smirking at him.

“I’m sorry?” he asked stupidly. Heather tilted her to the side and regarded him almost pityingly. A dark lock of curls rested on her ear.

“You aren’t actually that good at lying, you know,” she said casually. “And to those who know how smart you are, playing dumb is just insulting.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes. “And around those who know you aren’t nearly as mysterious as you’d like to act, Heather, you may drop the façade.”

“Don’t deflect,” Heather scolded softly, white teeth gleaming in the candlelight. “Anyone could notice the ways your eyes track her.” Hiccup followed her gaze to Astrid and the lady she was dancing with.

“Lady Greta?” he asked, injecting the right amount of confusion into his voice. Had she really just said he couldn’t act? Heather let out a short tinkle of laughter.

“Oh, that was good,” she shook her head. “But I meant the other lady.”

“Other-?”

“The one Lady Greta is dancing with.” Hiccup swallowed thickly. No. No one but him knew Astrid was . . . Astrid. Right? He turned to Heather, unable to mask the fear in his eyes.

“I know,” Heather said, lifting her chin.

“Don’t-” he pleaded with her. It was stupid. He knew Heather wouldn’t do such a thing, and yet irrational panic filled him at the thought of Astrid being discovered.

“I wouldn’t,” she assured him, a pained note in her voice. He winced.

“I, I know, I just -”

“I get it,” she said quickly. A beat passed, and then, “She cares for you too, you know.”

“What?” he snapped his head round to look at her, unable to disguise his pitiful note of hope.

“You know what I mean,” Heather said haughtily. “If you weren’t so hellbent on disguising your own emotions you might be able to see she is just as bad at concealing her feelings as you are.”

“Such language for a lady,” he tutted to keep himself from focusing on what Heather could possibly mean.

“I’m hardly ladylike,” she purred, a wicked gleam in her eye that made Hiccup cough delicately.

“Ah. You . . . sorted things out with Eret, have you?” he asked. There was a time he hadn’t liked the man, having witnessed Heather’s quiet heartbreak at his hands and then fearing Astrid had been caught in the same trap, but since then he had come to enjoy Eret’s lighthearted company.

“For the most part,” Heather nodded. “We still don’t dare get publicly engaged, not yet. Perhaps if there was a way to get Father or Dagur indebted to him, he could ask for my hand, but we must still keep things quiet until we get a chance or change Father’s mind.”

“I wish you luck,” Hiccup told her dryly. Heather fanned herself to disguise her eye roll.

“Stop it! Father is getting a little mellow in old age, it shouldn’t be too hard. And if all else fails, we could always confess and elope.” Hiccup’s eyebrows jumped in surprise.

“I guess so,” he conceded. “No one’s looking at me right now: I think I’ll try to retire. Good night, Heather.”

“Henry,” Heather called. He turned slightly to look at her. “She could be holding herself back for the same reasons you are. Maybe you should make the first move.” He blinked, trying to recall the previous conversation. Ah.

“I’ll consider it,” he promised, before he ran smack dab into a group of gossiping mothers who paired him with their daughters for the rest of the night.

He didn’t want to say goodbye to Astrid the next morning. He patted Stormfly’s flank a last time and waved half heartedly as she rode away back west. He wished she’d said something. He wished he’d said something. But neither of them had, so he was left to kick at the dirt and stare after her long gone figure until his father came and took him back inside.

It was perfectly acceptable to mope, he decided. No, it was not very becoming of a prince, and no, no one sympathized. His mother shook her head gently, Duke Jorgenson picked at his slouch, and the King just looked disappointed at his son’s childish display of missing his friend. Toothless thought he was rather pathetic too, as he kept biting Hiccup’s fingers whenever he brushed his stallion too slowly, and at one point during their ride had tried to buck him off. Hiccup had barely managed to stay astride.

“Useless horse,” he muttered darkly.

The worst part about everything was that he had no idea when he’d see her again. She was going home, probably for good, and was probably going to run her estate while he suffered with the kingdom’s paperwork. Sure, she had that nephew now, and she was afraid he’d inherit her place and right to the estate, but Hiccup was certain that couldn’t happen. Not when the world knew Astrid as Sir Hofferson; it would be impossible for the nephew to inherit over the son.

Maybe his moping shouldn’t have lasted a month. Or two. Or however long it took for his dad to lose his patience and give him serious lectures or yell at him. But eventually he was dragged into meetings and lectures and the king’s prodding at him, trying to display the Heir of Berk people were so eager to see.

But maybe he didn’t want to be the Heir and Pride of Berk. Didn’t everyone know he wouldn’t be so public-worthy without Sir Hofferson? He would’ve stayed the same screw up he had been if Astrid hadn’t taken it upon herself to give him extra training. He needed his friend by his side. He wanted someone he trusted to stay real and actually help him when he needed it. Sure, Toothless was also great at taking none of his crap, but Toothless also couldn’t accompany him to miserable balls or talk strategy with him, or cover for him when one of his experiments ran awry again. He had made up his mind years ago that he needed Hofferson by his side, even before he had known she was Astrid.

A couple years ago, he had seen death for the first time. He had seen it a few more times since then, and while he still found it as distasteful as ever, he could stomach it, at least.

He hadn’t had that sort of immunity then.

It had been awful: death was scary in itself, even if the person was going peacefully. But they were in the midst of a war, and this man was bleeding and missing body parts. His comrades were sobbing and wailing and the nurses were shouting, and all Hiccup could do was watch and feel the blood drain out of his face the same way it was draining out the dying man. It felt like he was rooted to the spot for a lifetime, and yet he had only breathed a few times. And then, in that moment where you truly know before your brain registers the fact, he gained enough control over his body to realize he was about to throw up, and the man was dead.

He had made his way quietly out of the tent. He was doing better in his training by then, and had stopped being bullied a while ago, but it also hadn’t occurred to his peers yet how useful gaining his favor could be, so he had a bit of privacy to have a minor panic attack.

That man had died. He was dead from this war, which people often forgot about because it had been going on for so long that it wasn’t so relevant to normal people’s lives anymore. There would be people who wouldn’t even care about the war while some family would receive a heartbreaking message that one of their promising young men would never come back home.

He bent over and heaved his thin breakfast out onto the dirt. And it was then he noticed him - or her, as he later found out, but a him to him then.

Hofferson knelt beside him, no judgment or pity in his gaze, just simple understanding. Hiccup closed his eyes and let the shame wash over him, but Hofferson was his friend, and maybe he genuinely wasn’t like the other boys who would tease him mercilessly for this.

“He - he died,” Hiccup croaked, trying to see if the concept made more sense spoken aloud. “He’s dead.”

“He is,” Astrid had said matter of factly. Hiccup had felt a prick of anger at that, he remembered. How could one just accept the loss of a life like that?

“But what if - what if there could have been another way,” he blurted out, desperate to find an alternate answer. “What if he didn’t have to die? Can’t there be another option?”

“People die every day,” his friend had said slowly, like they were trying to accustom him to the every fact of death. “Maybe, in another world, he would have died today anyway, despite not fighting in a war. Maybe he wouldn’t have.” Hiccup looked stonily at the ground, as if not being able to see her would mean he couldn’t hear her, too. “But that man who died today, died for a cause. He fought for something until his last breath; isn’t that the best way to die?” Astrid had bent down farther so she could meet his eyes as he stared at the wet dirt.

He blew out a shaky breath and raked his hands through his hair, grabbing at the strands in an effort to stabilize himself.

“You’re going to be King someday,” Hofferson pressed, because apparently they couldn’t leave him alone. Why pile more guilt and responsibility on him now? “You’re going to be forced to make decisions that get people killed.” Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could just make his friend leave and let him wallow in peace. He was such a screw up, a weak nobody who just happened to be born in this awful position of power he could never live up to. And yes, Hofferson was helping him with his fighting, and nobody made fun of him as often, and Mom and Dad seemed a lot more able to tolerate him with his growing success. But he wasn’t as strong as his dad, he couldn’t make the kind of decisions that would result in all of . . . this. A gentle hand, slim and small but strong and calloused at the same time, rested on his shoulder.

“What’s important is that you make sure those decisions aren’t in vain,” his friend had said firmly. And for some reason, that resonated with him. He could probably never learn to not be bothered by killing, but the deaths didn’t have to be meaningless. Each death could be a tribute to life, to keeping the rest of the people, and he might not be able to go to war to kill, but he could go to war to fight for the importance of life.

His eyes met hers, and he knew then, even before he knew what would later develop for her, he knew he needed a person who could pull him out of dark despair the way she had. He needed her by his side. Maybe he could make Hofferson part of his permanent council once he was forced to ascend the throne, yes. That was how he could keep his friend by his side.

There was another way now, though.

And after Spitelout - er, Duke Jorgenson and Dad snapped at him for what felt like the hundredth time that day, he picked out his second nicest riding outfit and led Toothless out the gates, setting off to the Hofferson estate.

.oOo.

The first thought Astrid had as she entered the estate was how little everything had changed, and how out of place she felt. A servant caught sight of her and bowed before turning to alert his superiors of her arrival. Those were the hills she hadn’t ridden in years. She dismounted by the stables, and a stable boy rushed out to take Stormfly and she let him after a moment’s hesitation, used to doing such things herself in the Guard.

“Astrid, my dear girl,” Father greeted her when she entered the manor. “So good to see you again.” He embraced her tightly, and Astrid hugged him back before stepping back.

“I’m so glad to see you back,” Mother said happily, stepping forward to envelop her daughter in an embrace. “I worried you’d stay longer when I received your plans to stay another week, but I’m so glad you came. Come, you must be tired after three days’ ride. I already have the maids drawing a bath and some nicer clothes laid out.”

“Thank you,” Astrid smiled gratefully, although she was slightly taken aback. It was an unspoken agreement that Astrid wore feminine clothes at home - which she was happy to do, for she missed her dresses often. Especially after a ball. But usually her family was far more interested with how she had been and she could at least get through dinner before donning a lady’s garb. Hadn’t she been away for nearly two years? Then again, there was far more time to hear her tales: the Hofferson’s had needed an heir, and now they had a better one. And Astrid was probably returning home for good.

Admittedly, the hot bath was quite welcome, and Astrid found a lovely blue dress of fine cotton waiting for her. Oh, it had been so long since she had worn blue. The Berk Guard wore the livery colors of the Royal family, and Astrid quite enjoyed the way red and black complimented her complexion, but it wasn’t blue. She combed her short, wet hair a little self consciously before making her way down to dinner.

Everyone was already sitting. Father sat at the head of the table, Mother on his right, Astoria on his left. Astrid didn’t know her sister had come to visit. Cami, the last unmarried sister besides Astrid, sat next to Astoria. Astrid took her seat next to Mother, some of her hair falling into her eyes, contrasting with all the other ladies’ meticulous coiffures. She quickly tucked it behind her ear, cursing herself for not at least attempting to braid her hair nicely.

The table immediately started inquiring plenty of things about her: how had she been, was the ride home easy? How lovely it was to have her back. What was it like, fighting? That was from Cami, who was quickly shushed; she acquiesced grumpily, slumping in her chair as much as she dared. Mother then quickly turned the conversation around to how healthy Astrid looked - practically glowing, even, before she had any time to regale any fun tales to her younger sister.

Ah, she knew what was going on. Hofferson’s were never supposed to display anything but the epitome of manners, so clearly her parents were getting all the small talk over with to head on the topic they really wanted to discuss. It was probably going to take at least a week before they allowed themselves to get to the point, though.

“Enough about me,” Astrid declared easily after they were halfway through the main course. “It is rude to only inquire after one person - Astoria, how does your son and husband?”

“They do well,” Astoria answered, seeming surprised at Astrid addressing her. “Gunnar and I are here to visit awhile while my husband is at court.”

“Wonderful,” Astrid said amicably, even though she didn’t feel like it at all. She continued to make small conversation and inquire after the rest of her family for the rest of the night, anxious to put off questions about herself.

“Mother, Father, I’m sure you have been busy in my absence, what about you?”

Oh, well enough, Mother assured her. Happier now she was home. Father jokingly related a few frustrating anecdotes from the day before and Astrid cracked a smile. Cami chimed in about baby Gunnar ruining her dress, and Astrid’s smile became strained at the mention of her nephew.

It was probably rude to dislike a baby so much, especially one she was so closely related to, but Astrid couldn’t help herself from wanting to scowl at the mere mention of him. It didn’t help that the rest of the family were clearly so enamored with the heir.

Father cleared his throat. “As a matter of fact, Astrid,” he said solemnly. “There is something we’d like to talk to you about.”

Of course there is, Astrid nodded, indicating for them to go on. Lord Hofferson looked at his wife, who folded her hands in her lap as she turned to face Astrid.

“We have been waiting for you to come home for a while,” Mother began. “You look nice and healthy, and, well, you aren’t getting any younger dear.”

Thor help her, she knew where this was going.

“We’ve been thinking, it is time for you to settle down, Astrid.”

“Oh,” she said stupidly.

“You certainly have an aura of allure,” Mother said happily. “People are wondering when our beautiful elusive daughter will come out and find a husband - you’ve never even made a proper debut. Now, we had a list of prospective suitors-” Astrid’s eyes bulged in horror.

“-But you’ve given us an even better one,” Mother declared proudly.

“That sounds a little ominous, to be honest,” Astrid said dryly. Warning bells rang in her head at the snark directed towards her parents, but a bigger part of her mind was cast fondly to Hiccup and his inability to keep his mouth shut and free from unwanted comments during serious conversation. Cami hastily took an overlarge sip from her glass and burst into a coughing fit. The attention turned to her little sister until Cami assured them she was fine and scooped a generous serving of potatoes into her mouth. Mother sighed.

“Cami, dear, you know opening your mouth so big is unladylike,” Mother admonished her youngest.

“Who is the better option for me?” Astrid asked in an effort to distract her parents from her sister.

“The Crown Prince,” Father said. Astrid’s head whipped towards him and her jaw dropped momentarily. “It’s clear that you are very close to him, and truly, there is no one better to merge our family with; we have plenty of ties through marriage and trade with our surrounding territories, and your aunts in the southeast. We should establish ourselves more often in court.” Astrid focused on keeping her back perfectly straight so as to avoid curling her lip at the factual assessment of the Crown Prince’s benefits to the family. Everything her father said made sense, but she felt protective over Hiccup being regarded so callously. ‘They’re never interested in me for anything but my position,’ he had once confided in her.

Astrid felt repulsion thick in her throat. Hadn’t she judged all the other ladies who had schemed for the Prince as well? This made her just as bad - worse, even. The gravy over her potatoes - one of her favorite dishes - tasted like ash. She sipped some water to wash the taste down, but the liquid felt strangely dry. The voices around her continued to talk, but it was hard to hear, like that time a robber she was fighting had stuffed her head into a barrel, and the noise had been unbearably loud but she couldn’t make out the muffled shouting.

“Excuse me,” she said as soon as she could. “I’d like to retire.”

“Of course,” Mother nodded.

“I’m sure Gunnar needs checking anyways,” Astoria piped up. “I can accompany you to your rooms,” she offered.

“Oh no need,” Astrid assured her quickly, and left the room before her sister could protest.

Mother and Father, Astrid learned as the months merged from early spring to mid summer, had it all planned out. Astrid’s thick golden locks grew longer, her braids took longer to do, and she found herself thinking of trying to add her hair comb somewhere, but eventually decided against it for now - it was special. She would certainly wear it to her debut, which was to take place at her twentieth birthday in late summer. 

They were to arrange a little ‘accident’ for their ‘son’ a little before her debut, and at the funeral, while the Prince was mourning, Astrid would comfort him over the death of her brother and present herself as a suitable wife simultaneously. 

“You know him better than anyone, dear,” Mother exclaimed to her over dress fitting. “You’ll have the upper hand over anyone else; you know what he likes!”

“That doesn’t mean I want to use it against him!” Astrid cried before sucking in a sharp breath as the seamstress tugged her corset string a little harder. The air she was deprived of was replaced by a litany of foul curses and she bit her tongue to keep them from escaping. The corset didn’t hurt as much as being whacked in the abdomen with a staff, but it was uncomfortable nonetheless.

“Astrid,” Mother placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Darling, it’s . . . quite clear to us that you feel something for the Prince. Love matches aren’t ever to be expected, but they are coveted, and he would be a wonderful choice for a husband. Don’t you agree?” Astrid tried to pretend the color in her cheeks weren’t rising, but her mother acknowledged them with a satisfied nod. “Besides, if you like him so much, surely he can’t be too far behind; anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Surely her feelings for the prince weren’t that obvious, Astrid prayed fervently. And it was true - Astrid probably would never be able to bring herself to marry anyone other than him. What luck her selfishness was for the benefit of the family. But how would the Prince want her? He was the Heir to Berk, and a great fighter in his own right - why would he want a knight for a wife? He’d be able to see through her immediately: he always had, and he knew her true identity, unbeknownst to her parents. Would he hate her for being so duplicitous to his face?

She slept restlessly that hot night, burning with guilt and self loathing. At last, dawn was about to break and she rose early to dress in her riding outfit. She wore dresses among her family, and her riding outfit was no different, although she did wear men’s trousers underneath. Her hair had been growing out over the months, and it had nearly reached her shoulders. She quickly gathered her hair and plaited two braids - one from each temple, joined in the back. She thought fleetingly of her hair comb, but such an ornament would be ridiculous for riding. She pushed open her heavy door, peeking out into the corridor before stepping onto the soft carpet, her riding boots sinking slightly under her weight. The servants weren’t yet out and about.

Stormfly was always a good listener. Astrid could rant and scream and let her mare gallop and be back in time for breakfast, temper leashed enough to be able to bear her parents’ conniving. The early morning mist brushed against her face as she exited the manor for the stables. She let a smile across her face as she imagined flying through it.

She entered the stables, the placement of Stormfly’s stall so familiar she could find it in her sleep. But as she rounded a corner to where the hay bales lay she came upon a most shocking sight. She let out a shrill scream and stumbled back, hand belatedly covering her eyes.

Cami, skirts up and the stable boy, pants down, whipped around at the sound and screeched. She heard the rustle of fabric as the youth fumbled with his pants and Cami hastily tried to smooth her skirts, muttering a horrific slew of curses. Where has she learned such language? The protective monster side of Astrid growled dangerously.

Astrid stood with her hand angrily on her hips as the stable boy passed her, beet red and still adjusting himself. Cami caught sight of her face and tried to run away, but Astrid had been training as a stealthy, fit fighter for the past five years and she easily grabbed a hold of her youngest sister’s wrist.

“Camillia Bertha Hofferson,” she seethed, levering the not-yet sixteen year old with a deadly glare. “Explain yourself!” The young lady tried to shrug out of her grip.

“Come off it, surely you know what was happening,” Cami shot snidely. Astrid sputtered indignantly.

“You’re not even sixteen!” she cried. “You’re too young - have you any idea what you’re doing? You cannot just ruin yourself like that!”

“Of course not,” Cami spat, her long blonde hair a tangled mess around her face. “It would be awful for me to do anything without consideration for my unknown future husband, who surely is extending me the same courtesy.” Astrid sighed. She understood Cami’s frustration well, but it hadn’t been pleasant to learn about Heather’s anguish she had gone through after losing her maidenhood - to a noble, at least, not some lowly youth merely thinking with something other than his head.

“What, so you let yourself be tumbled by the first lad that came along?” Astrid shot. She winced internally. That had come out far harsher than it should’ve. Cami’s face grew red with shame and anger.

“Don’t act as if you wouldn’t have considered something similar were you in my position.”

“I am-”

“No!” Cami cut in. “No you’re not. Your position is different. You don’t have to be a lady like me.”

“Of course I do! I must be able to conduct myself both as a lady and a gentleman, and even so I am able to uphold my honor,” Astrid rebutted pointedly.

“Because creating a whole other person who doesn’t even exist, lying to everyone about who you really are, that truly is the epitome of honor!” Cami cried, her voice rising louder. “You act like what you did was so hard, but you got to leave and adventure and escape corsets and the constant pressure of navigating society, avoiding older ladies’ snide comments and not a single true friend among peers because you are all competing against each other for some snotty old man who’ll pay our families for a pretty, obedient young wife who will bear him babies to continue his deplorable line.” Her voice broke as she continued. “And you got to meet the Prince - and fall in love with him - don’t try to deny it. And everyone wants you to marry him! Everyone is happy for you! How dare you try to deny me a right to myself!”

“I am PROTECTING you!” Astrid shouted at her sister, hurt. “I have shed blood for this family, worked my body until it was black and blue and sore!! How ungrateful are you?” She dropped Cami’s wrist to throw up her hands. “How many times did I give up the comfort of a soft warm bed for the hard ground in the middle of the battlefield for you?! There were so many nights all I wanted was to go back and yet I persevered for everyone!!! They may seem tedious to you but I don’t get to dress up and go to balls as a lady. I can’t grow my hair out or even speak in a normal voice for fear of someone suspecting me. I am one of the best knights of my generation who has given my all, and yet if everyone were to ever find out my true identity I am sure they would forsake me.” Astrid blinked rapidly to calm herself down. “You’re my family; you’re supposed to understand,” she shook her head, trying to clear the lump in her throat without being obvious. “And what is my reward? Being replaced by an infant as soon as he was born.”

Cami seemed stunned, and Astrid drew a ragged breath through her nose to calm herself down, satisfied at rendering her sister speechless. It only lasted for a moment.

“You don’t get to act like you’re so different from us, doing what you did, and then come back and just resume your place like nothing happened,” Cami said stiltedly, like she was trying to regain the upper hand but wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

“If Mother and Father have their way, that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Astrid retorted contrarily.

“As if you could keep up,” Cami scoffed.

“I’m a quick learner,” Astrid reminded her triumphantly. “I learned all the lady etiquette you learned in less than a quarter of the time you did.”

Cami tossed her head. “I hadn’t been trying to master my poise,” she sniffed. “Besides, just because you want to be a lady again all of a sudden doesn’t mean you are one. There are many things about society that cannot be learned from books or tutors.”

“I know,” Astrid said tiredly, refraining from rolling her eyes at the superiority in her younger sister’s voice. “I haven’t been living under a rock all these years. In fact, I know what goes on behind the scenes with the men better than any of the other ladies, so we both have advantages over each other.”

Still, the thought of navigating court and convincing her best friend to marry her instead of all the other young ladies coiled a heavy lead rope in her stomach. Perhaps building a proper friendship with Lady Heater instead of just a truce would be a good investment.

“What would you even do as Queen?” Cami continued, having scented Astrid’s niggling fear like a bloodhound on a hunt. “Fight? Lead the armies into battle?” That tone of hers was unacceptable, Astrid thought darkly. Her little sister was treating her like a dirty vagabond whose only use was brawling, but clearly, it was her manners that were lesser. Astrid had been trained so strictly on politeness, where had that dedication gone with the youngest sister?

“Fighting a battle is not all I’m good at,” Astrid retorted, barely keeping all the bite out of her tone. She wanted to settle down and have a family, have her husband smile at her the way Father smiled at Mother or the King at the Queen. She wanted someone to look at her, well, the way Hiccup did. But she wanted that on her own terms. She wanted to continue to defend her country, wanted to be seen as capable of more than just a wife. Why could she only achieve one of those things by the loss of the other? But she didn’t say any of that. How could she expect Cami to understand? It wasn’t as if Cami was suddenly in a space to listen to her, anyway. She stared into the distance, not noticing the smell of hay or the barn walls.

The teenager waited for Astrid to elaborate what she was good at challengingly. When no examples were forthcoming, she grinned in victory.

“You think they’d let you fight after you married?” she sneered. “Are you going to come clean about who you’ve really been these past five years, or will you just lie to them? You think they won’t question your decisions and wonder why you know such things? Do you think the Prince will be happy to hear-” Astrid’s head snapped back up to look at her sister.

“Oh what do you know about the Prince?” Astrid snapped at her, the stress of months of her parent’s plans and her own guilt and Cami’s infuriating attitude breaking her control. “You have no right to act as if you know him!” Astrid yelled. “He is more than stupid rumors and callous speculation - he’s a person who has feelings and opinions about who he is and what he likes! Ever wonder why he’s still a bachelor? He doesn't like that kind of talk about him, and that’s where all the girls have gone wrong.”

“Oh? Does that make you believe you’d have a chance then?” Cami curled her lip. “You’re different, are you? You’re so unconventional and unique. Our parents’ Golden Girl?”

“I was never their Golden Girl,” Astrid mimicked her. They had appreciated Astrid’s naive attempts to bring honor to their family, and it had worked, but she wouldn’t be recognized as a good little daughter until she married. Astoria had always been the perfect daughter - the best at everything, marrying without complaint, birthing the heir to House Hofferson, being the first born. The daughter with the overall most benefit to existing.

“Well say the Prince does like the rebellious sort like you,” Cami continued patronizingly. Astrid snorted. Was Cami not aware of the ridiculous hypocrisy in calling her rebellious? And who was she to think she could speak thus to her elders? “What sort of awful example would you set, cutting your hair and wearing ugly men’s clothes? Women can wield swords but they shouldn’t be soldiers.”

A sharp slap rang out, and Cami gasped and touched her cheek gingerly, staring at Astrid with wide eyes.

“Shut the fuck up,” Astrid hissed, baring her teeth. “Be glad it wasn’t a punch.” She spun abruptly and walked out of the barn, horrified with the heat of her palm.

She stormed away, hand still smarting from slapping Cami. Her breathing was rapid and uneven. The mist had cleared somewhat as the sun had come out, so the air felt more clammy than cooling. She didn’t watch where she was going and her boot sunk into the ground, the land grown soft with water. She growled as her hem dragged through the mud and stepped forcefully on the unstable ground the rest of the way to the house just because it felt like the wrong thing to do.

A throat cleared behind her as she stepped inside and closed the door and she whirled around, her hand helplessly searching for an unavailable weapon at her hip. It took a moment for her to relax her stand and her brain to recognize the person. A tall young man with a lean build, windswept brown hair with auburn streaks, and impassioned green eyes that were wide as he took her in, wearing a dress in front of him for the time.

“Ast-” his voice sounded rather hoarse. What on Earth was he doing here? Astrid’s frazzled state grew even more agitated with her confusion, and while normally the sight of Hiccup soothed her like nothing else, she really, really didn’t want to see him right now, not with everything she had just been thinking. “That is, Lady Astrid,” he corrected himself. “I uh, may I speak with you for a moment, please?”

No, I can’t face you right now, she thought desperately. Please go away. They stood there staring at each other, neither saying a thing. Astrid was too stunned and Hiccup seemed too flustered to break the uncomfortable silence. But, against her consent, she found herself nodding and leading him to a nearby room off the corridor.

His clothes were speckled with dirt, she noticed, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days - Astrid knew that look all too well from her experience. He ran a hair through his hair - it, too, had grown longer since she’d seen him like hers had.

“I’ve never-” he began, before cutting himself off. “You um, you look lovely?” Her hair had started to frizz out of its braids and the bottom five inches of her hem were caked with mud, and she was sure her face was still flushed with anger. She was very unpretty at the moment.

“Is that a surprise?” she sniped before she could stop herself. No, stop it. This was why  she couldn’t see him, she would say things she didn’t mean or worse, things she did mean and that would complicate things. It stung a bit, the thought had perhaps he had never considered her pretty before. His face morphed into an expression of affronted surprise.

“No,” he denied vehemently, and that guilty, vain part of her settled. “No, I - you always look beautiful, just, usually in a different way. You look nice like this too. Really nice. Yeah. Um. Well, I mean, not just nice, but-” he cleared his throat, looking around the room anywhere but her. “That’s not - this isn’t what I’m here for.”

“What are you doing here?” Astrid asked. Her tone was barely polite, bordering on the edge of accusatory. Hiccup’s brows furrowed confusedly. He shifted his weight, leaning more heavily on his right leg. He swallowed and inhaled slowly.

“I had to see you,” he began. “I’m sorry for the abruptness of it all, but I haven’t really stopped riding for the last two days coming here to really think.”

“It’s a three day ride from the capital to here,” Astrid exclaimed softly. “Hiccup, you must be dead on your feet.” What on Midgard had happened that was so important? Was he coming to warn her of something?

“Not yet,” he grinned at her. “I just . . . I had to see you.” He’d said that already.

“To tell me what?” she asked, eager to have him deliver the news so he could rest. He looked near dead beat, yet there was still that lively spark in his eyes as he looked at her, and even though she was certain he was running on adrenaline alone, he still looked damn beautiful. He took a deep breath.

“Berk doesn’t feel the same without you, Astrid,” he declared passionately. “Logically, I know it should be ridiculous, because you were only at the palace for a little while, and somehow, we’ve spent most of our lives without each other, but it - God, Astrid, you became a part of it so easily, and now everything feels unfinished without you. Again, not really logical, but my head has never worked normally around you.” Astrid felt her heart beating, her posture relaxing against her will even as a sense of horror began to grow.

“I miss it too,” she admitted. “I just, I don’t know if I can go back . . .” She had never felt so free as when she was there, but would she ever be able to reach that feeling again as a lady, rather than a knight?

“You could,” Hiccup stepped forward and took her hands. Oh, he was misunderstanding her - wait wait wait. He was holding her hands. Astrid’s gaze snapped up to meet his. He was looking at her intensely, like she was the only thing in the room, the world. “Astrid Hofferson. Our time away from each other has forced me to realize how much of an influence you have on me - for good. I’ve taken you for granted these past few years because you were always there, but - please, do me the honor of marrying me, and I swear I will cherish you for the rest of my life - our lives.”

Astrid blinked, as if that would ensure she had heard him correctly. He tugged on her hands, forcing her to take a step closer to him. They were face to face, so close she couldn’t see anything but him. His eyes bored into hers, their gazes colliding and sending a ringing through her ears.

“I love you, Astrid. I love your smile, and the way you throw your head back when you laugh. I love the way your brow furrows in concentration when you fight. I love your steadiness next to my recklessness. I love the way you still try to tuck your hair behind your ear even when it’s too short to stay.”

Astrid’s mouth fell open with a shaky, disbelieving laugh.

“I think you’re beautiful, Astrid. When you have dirt and blood on your face, or when you’re stiff in men’s clothes for formal events, or right now, in this dress.” He took a moment to look her up and down in appreciation. “I think it’s criminal I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”

“Hiccup-” there was a feeling clogging her throat, so she cleared it. She felt sick to her stomach.

“Yes?” he asked tenderly.

“I can’t,” she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would surely make everything go away. Hiccup’s hands dropped from her arms and she felt him cup her face upwards until she opened her eyes to meet his.

“Is there . . . someone else?” he whispered mournfully, a possessive gleam in his eye. “A previous engagement?”

“No,” she breathed, gently taking his hand from her chin. “No, it’s - not that.”

“Then what?” he pleaded. “Please, Astrid, anything. Give me something.”

“I can’t - this isn’t - we couldn’t - what would people say about you marrying a girl no one has barely seen for the past five years?!”

“I don’t care about that,” he said ardently.

“That’s not all! I’m not - I’m not cut out to be a Queen - or at least, I’m not ready for it-”

“You’d be great, but we could wait if you wanted,” he assured her earnestly.

“I mean, I don’t want - I don’t want to stop being a knight just yet.”

“I wouldn’t stop you. Hell, you’d never have to stop being a knight,” he spread his arms like it was the answer to everything, and Astrid felt irrational anger building up about to explode out of her throat.

“Oh, really?” she challenged him, the injustice of everything building underneath her skin, causing her fists to clench and her nails to bite into her calloused palms. “What would everyone say if they found out I was a knight?”

“Their opinions wouldn’t matter,” Hiccup said stoutly. Astrid let out a bitter laugh.

“They do, Hiccup. Trust me.”

“No they don’t, Astrid-”

“You don’t understand-”

“Since when have you let what people thought stop you?” Hiccup interrupted indignantly. “You wanted to become a knight, despite your parents not wanting you to, and you became the best damn knight in the country.” He was - that was wrong. She wasn’t the best in the country. Yet, a treacherous voice inside her whispered, but she quashed it down with logic: when would she be able to get better after this? “People wouldn’t think our ideas wouldn’t work, but you weren’t afraid to try them and show people they were wrong. You didn’t try to fit in with the other knights if you disagreed with what they were doing. You weren’t afraid to be unpopular or work hard. What’s stopping you now?”

“It’s not that easy,” Astrid whispered. She wanted to throw her arms around him and do something crazy like - like kiss him - for having so much faith in her. Did he not realize what an uproar it would cause for her to be both a knight and his wife? She didn’t want to kill off her alternate self, but she had also resigned herself to her parent’s plan. He didn’t know the cowardly strategy to resume her place in society, and how much she hated it. She had been so dreading the chance to try to win his heart, and now that she already had it, and he wanted her to continue as a knight if she wished? She didn’t deserve it, surely. Astrid was used to working so hard for everything she wanted in life, something she desired so avidly shouldn’t be so easy. She bit her lip and averted her eyes.

Hiccup lifted her chin to force her to meet his eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze. She had never done that. Even when eye contact had made her heart beat so erratically she had thought she would combust, or when she thought it was a terrible timing, even if she had to look away soon after, she had always met his eye. Hiccup knew this too.

“Wow,” he said softly. “I’d never take you for a coward, Astrid Hofferson.”

Her eyes snapped open and she shoved him away from her, hard, her internal despair giving way to welcome aggression.

“Shut up!” she hissed. He had struck a nerve there. “I am not-”

“You can’t even meet my eye,” he accused her, hurt that she refused to fight for something he hadn’t slept for in two days in an attempt to get to her faster. She stalked towards him. They stood face to face, chests heaving, noses almost touching as she leaned up on her toes to better meet his eyes in challenge. Her face was flushed pink, eyes brimming with anger and hurt and longing, blonde hair now just past her shoulders in wild disarray. He could feel the anger rolling off of her in waves of heat, and his own temperature rose to meet hers. Buried deep below the surface was his father’s substantial rage, and Astrid had always awakened things no one else had. Hiccup’s eyes flickered down to her lips, pulled back into a defensive snarl. He wanted nothing more than to close that distance between them and ravage her mouth until she was whimpering sweet nothings, but he somehow managed to hold himself back.

“You think you can just - waltz into here and propose marriage and I’ll just suddenly drop everything to say yes?” she spat disgustedly. Hiccup hesitated. Truthfully, he hadn’t thought ahead. He’d just finally realized what a muttonhead he was, keeping his feelings from her when she probably felt the same. Truthfully, he had kind of assumed her love for him would affect her similarly as it had him.

She had feelings for him, that he could tell, but it didn’t seem as if she had accepted the fact.

“You want this so bad?” she challenged, her volume rising with the color in her cheeks. “You’re the Crown Prince who can do anything?! Where is the change in law to allow females to inherit, huh?” Hiccup said nothing.

“None of this would be happening if not for the simple fact women are not trusted with men’s belongings after they are deceased - even if they should belong to us.” She poked his chest hard enough for him to take a step back. “How can you promise me support if I ever came clean? Where is the support now?”

“I-” Hiccup began.

“NO! Uh-uh, I’m talking. You could do so much, why are you waiting until you’re king to start change? Let women inherit! Stop the war!”

“I’m going to stop you there,” he cried indignantly. “One person cannot just stop a war.”

“Have you tried?” she shot. “What have you done at all to try to help us finish this ongoing battle, huh? Sure, you served on the frontlines with all of us, but your strengths have always been in doing things the way they’ve never been done before.”

“I can’t-”

“YOU COULD!” Astrid screamed. She didn’t care if she woke up the whole house. Everything was slipping out of control; Cami, Hiccup, herself. What were a few more people tangled up in this disaster? “You could but you won’t. Because you don’t actually want to put in the effort and change things. You want things to be the way they’ve been for the past few years but those times are over. You can’t have them again. Grow up, Hiccup. I’m not just someone who will hold your hand and relive the past.”

“That’s not true,” he denied hotly

Hiccup’s eyes were wide, like the bright green grass in the early spring that had been frosted: bright green like nothing else, but about to die as soon as the frost melted. He blinked a few times, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, his head shaking as if he was trying to deny to himself who had just said such hurtful words to him.

They knew each other better than anyone else. She had been the only one who could see how affected he had been by others’ malicious words, and then had taken it to a new level. She wanted to apologize, say she didn’t mean it, but deep down, she knew she had hit the truth, and that’s why it hurt so much.

“That’s not fair,” he croaked. He was looking at her like maybe he didn’t know her, like this wasn’t real. And maybe it wasn’t. How could life go from miserable to him confessing his love for her to this? Or maybe that was exactly the kind of havoc life wrought. 

Astrid chose her next words carefully. She needed to put the final nail in the coffin. This encounter wasn’t salvageable, the least she could do was finish off the damage. “You’re all words and no action,” she said shakily, a note of hate in her voice to drown out the sorrow. “And I don’t want your empty promises.”

He let out a strangled breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Astrid stared at his boots. “If that’s what you think of me,” Hiccup said slowly, like every word cost him. “Maybe we weren’t the match I thought we were.” He brushed past her to the door and Astrid let him go, a hollow feeling in her chest as she absorbed his words. “Good day, Lady Hofferson.” He closed the door behind him.

Astrid made it to a chair before her knees gave out from under her. And for the first time in ten years, Astrid Hofferson burst into tears.

.oOo.

By late evening Hiccup had to admit it was time to take a break. It had been easy enough to ride nonstop for two days straight fueled by love and the ridiculous hope everything would go perfectly and he’d return home a betrothed man. Now, his sleeplessness weighed down upon him, made heavier by the simmering bitter disappointment.

A dingy tavern’s rotting wooden sign swaying in the slight breeze. Raucous laughter squeezed out from under the rickety door. Hiccup studied the building blearily. It was the largest establishment around, it surely had hot food and a room to sleep. He would have preferred a kind farmer’s hospitality, but they could be hard to find and at this hour, most of them would be drunk and mean, and their wives scared and wary.

He dug into his saddlebag to take out a pouch of coins and a hood. A couple years ago, before he’d joined the Berk Guard, he would have had all his money in one pouch, but Sir Alvin and him had once been sent by Captain Throk on a mission to extract information, and his older comrade had given him some tips.

“Never keep yer money all in one place,” Alvin had cautioned him. “Just like you know not to show all yer money at once, you separate it against any pickpockets or the like. Plus, it’s good to be able to conjure a coin without getting into the pouch and exposing yer money.”

It had been thrilling, filtrating a bar that night. Alvin had cut quite the imposing figure, and while Hiccup didn’t have that intimidating build, he managed a warning aura just fine.

He made sure his pouch was only one third full: enough to show he had money to pay, but not enough to make himself a target. A couple coins concealed in fingerless gloves - he hadn’t mastered many tricks or sleight of hand, but he could reach them easily.

He led Toothless to the stables and brushed him down quickly before he donned his heavy hood.

He kept his head down, but his strides were purposeful. Heads turned as he walked through the door but quickly returned back to their businesses as they determined the mysterious slim man with mud spattered clothes and face concealed, but a well made dirk at his hip, didn’t pose a threat unless approached.

The tavern keeper eyed him, weighing the stranger’s possibly for bringing trouble against the allure of new coin. Strangers so rarely passed through. Hiccup leaned over the bar.

“A room and meal for the night, please.” His voice was hoarse. “And a drink.” He rarely drank, not having a taste for liquor or the effects it wrought, but tonight he could find a welcome use for it. He flipped a coin onto the bar. The owner grabbed it and pocketed it deftly.

“Yessir,” the keeper bowed his head in understanding and bustled off. Hiccup wearily cast around for a table least likely to be interrupted. He sighed in relief as his rump met the hard welcome of the old wooden chair. He huffed to himself. He felt about as old as the middle aged men he fought alongside. Actually, his father and Alvin were more spritely than him at this moment, for he felt sluggish with Astrid’s rejection.

Where had he gone wrong? He loved her - he had made it clear, hadn’t he? He hadn’t cared about all the obstacles she had cited for her rejection - was she simply trying to find an excuse instead of telling him she didn’t want him?

What he needed was a good night’s rest to lick his wounds and clear his head - maybe a drink to forget his troubles wouldn’t hurt either.

He should have known, inevitably, that nothing was that easy. He had no sooner sat down and settled, everyone’s attention off of him, for it to be transferred to two instigators.

Two hulking men, bold bald, the first with dark eyebrows, the second of the pair with blonde eyebrows and a hook instead of his left hand, made their way over to Hiccup’s side of the room. Hook-for-hand roughly pushed a few men sitting at a table off their chairs, not far from where Hiccup was sitting. The men at the table had clearly been drinking for quite some time, and one of them complained loudly as his mug emptied its contents down his shirt. Another man’s head hid the floor painfully and didn’t move, but the rise and fall of his chest told spectators he was simply unconscious, not dead.

“I should kill ya,” the first bald man with the dark eyebrows, growled. The threat was directed to a small man with a dark beard and extensive mustache. A burlap sack hat perched atop his head. He wore a bawdy red tunic over faded blue sleeves. Hiccup’s eyes widened under his hood - he knew that face: beady blue eyes, unflatteringly large nose, that too-wide obsequious smile.

What had Trader Johann gotten himself into now? Hiccup suspected this was about to become one of the impossible tales Johann was so fond of telling to his customers until bought whatever he was selling just to shut him up.

“I - I - well - I’m sure I didn’t know what you’re talking about,” Joahnn gave a false laugh, his small, sharp eyes darting nervously around the bar. Hiccup averted his eyes before the trader could recognize him. He didn’t particularly like Trader Johann and while the man sometimes brough useful information, Hiccup wasn’t sure he trusted the businessman to be discreet about the Crown Prince’s presence if it saved his own skin.

“H-How man I be of service, gentlemen?” Johann stuttered.

“Ye dirty cheat,” the first man continued to sneer. “We’ve come to collect a debt. And yer the one who’ll be paying for it.”

“Oh my,” the trader swallowed. “That truly is an honor, my boys, really. Drinks on me, certainly.”

“Not like tha’,” Hook-Man spoke up after draining Johann’s pint. He wiped the back of his left hand across his mouth and grinned menacingly.

Hiccup let out a huff no one noticed. He had told himself he wouldn't get involved, but no one else was doing anything. The rest of the pub tried to act as if they weren’t watching the happenings like a sick form of entertainment. Some of the table’s neighbors subtly declared themselves finished for the night, leaving most of the surrounding area empty.

Fear entered Johann’s pale blue eyes as no one made a move to help him. For all the contacts the man had, he had no friends willing to help.

Johann is useful, Hiccup told himself as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Bald man with dark eyebrows reached for the trader’s throat, but his hand halted as a nasally but dangerous voice rang out.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the hooded man shook his head dramatically, so they could recognize the movement even with his hood.

“Why not?” the first man asked. His companion nodded in affirmation of the question.

“I still have use for Trader Johann, you see. Alive.”

“Get lost,” the man with blonde eyebrows and a hook for his right hand growled. “He’s gotta die.”

The slim stranger held his hands up easily, a sure sign of surrender.

“Hey now,” he said placatingly. “Did I say you couldn’t have him after I’m done? No, kill him to your heart’s content after my turn.”

“This is nunya business,” the first man spat.

“Ah,” Hiccup pointed a finger at him. “But it is my business when you’re impeding my business, so how about you leave him alone? This is your last warning.”

The pair of agitators scoffed. “You think a talking fishbone like yerself would be able to take us?” They flexed their muscles, to some applause around the bar. “Bring it on.”

Hiccup shrugged. “Okay,” he agreed casually, but made no move to approach them. A beat passed, then a second. The men began to laugh at his supposed cowardice, and then he struck.

His long legs brought him to them in barely more than a stride. He punched the blonde eyebrowed man hard with a swift uppercut and doubled over the dark eyebrowed with an efficient knee to the groin. The two staggered back up, nasty grimaces on their faces.

They can take a hit, Hiccup thought, minutely impressed.

His respect for them diminished as he saw how badly they threw their fists.

He dodged each of their uncoordinated swings insultingly smoothly before stepping around and clapping their heads together with a nauseating bang.

Everyone suddenly found their own plates and tables a lot more interesting as Hiccup looked up at the room. The tavern owner rolled his eyes and muttered underneath his breath.

“Oh thank you so much Master-” Hiccup held up his hand.

“No need to address me by name, Johann,” he said firmly.  He sighed. “Why don’t you give me a reason to be glad I just saved you.” 

“My offer for drinks on me still stands,” Johann suggested. Hiccup pushed his hood back so the trader could see his unimpressed expression. “A-as a matter of fact, I do have some information that you wouldn’t be able to acquire anywhere else.”

“Good,” Hiccup replied curtly, eager to think of something other than Astrid. Perhaps he hadn’t needed to be that aggressive with the instigators. He would have been able to knock them out before he punched them, but, well, it wasn’t as if one threw punches at the person who rejected one’s proposal of marriage, even if one wanted to, so the two unsuspecting men were fair game. Even Trader Johann, annoying as he was, was a distraction. The merchant waved the owner over for more drinks and Hiccup settled himself in the chair with the least sticky ale on the seat.

Johann rambled on a bit about how he had come across the inn, but Hiccup knew such talk was simply to distract Hiccup from retrieving the information he had promised.

“Johann,” he interrupted sharply. “What else?”

“Oh, well you see, a while back, as I was traveling with Olav - who likes to cheat his customers by mixing water with his milk! I mean who ever-”

“I really hope this wasn’t the crucial information you were so eager to share.”

Johann’s shoulders sagged as he gave in.

“Alright,” he conceded. “Well, as I was trading my precious, one of a kind wares across the country, I overheard something interesting from one of my clients.”

“Who?” probed the prince.

“Oh, just a Captain to one of Bludvist’s small troops.” Hiccup sucked in an eager breath.

“What’d he say?” the Heir demanded.

“Oh, many things,” the trader said airily. Hiccup slammed his hand on the table, making the other man jump, but he quickly regained his composure.

“Do you know of the Red Death?” the merchant asked mysteriously.

The Red Death was the leader of the largest band of thieves and mercenaries across the Archipelago, known as the Dragons. No one knew their true identity, but sightings of the Dragons had grown fewer over the years. King Stoick had once speculated the Red Death leadership had changed, and the new one did not have as much control over their members.

“Of course, although they have rather been declining, haven’t they?”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Johann wagged his finger, nails grown over-long and crusted with dirt. “You see, according to this captain, Drago’s made a deal with the Red Death - he’s hiring all of the Dragons.”

“No,” Hiccup breathed. Was this the potential second army Bludvist could be building? Any army was formidable and unwelcome, but thousands of highly trained, near feral mercenaries? Berk - Hell, the entire Archipelago, was in grave danger. No where would be safe.

“Yes,” assured the merchant, and shuddered.

“How are they communicating? Drago and the Red Death?” Hiccup pressed.

“Through Krogan, Bludvist’s General,” answered Johann. “In fact, he’s going to meet them at an undisclosed location for business in three weeks' time.”

“Johann, you’re brilliant!” Hiccup praised him. “Do you think you could find out where this ‘undisclosed location’ is?”

“Oh, I already have it,” replied the trader.

“Great!”

“For a price,” he tutted. Hiccup’s face fell into a threatening scowl. Johann was unmoved. Hiccup sighed and brought out a pouch.

.oOo.

Four days later found the Prince back at the palace, rubbing down Toothless thoroughly and praising him for waiting in the stable while Hiccup had slept for nearly a day straight. Indeed, the inn keeper had sent his stern looking wife to check if he hadn’t died, and had seemed mildly displeased to find him just waking up and hungry.

“I need to see my Dad,” Hiccup insisted as Duke Spitelout came to greet him.

“-ve been wondering where you were this last week! Yew cannot just disappear on us like that,”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry,” Hiccup raised his hands placatingly. “I just - I had something I needed to do, and this is important.” The Duke crossed his arms.

“I will inform His Majesty of your return,” he said stiffly. Hiccup groaned.

“Oh, come on! I can tell him myself if I see him now!”

“No.”

“Please!”

“He’s busy.” Hiccup pushed past his annoying uncle (why had Mom’s sister married him anyway?) and marched to the North Wing, presumably to change.

“Dad,” Hiccup entered his father’s study, still in his riding clothes, the big oak door swinging shut behind him. “I’d like to talk to you about something. It’s urgent.”

The King raised his eyebrows in shock at his son and set his drink down, the ice clinking faintly. “Oh really? I see you’re back now. Can you imagine how worried your mother has been?”

“Uh,” Hiccup paused, chagrined. “I - I’m really sorry, I wasn’t in the best headspace and all but - look, I - I’ve been . . . thinking . . . about things, and I’ve realized something important.”

His father sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Well, out with it, then,” Stoick prompted. Hiccup took a breath.

“Dad, I want to change the laws surrounding a lady’s right to inherit.” The King felt internally grateful he hadn’t been drinking anything.

“You . . . what?” he asked incredulously.

“I want-”

“Now hold on, son,” Stoick interrupted.

“What?” the young man asked impatiently. Stoick chose to ignore the insubordinate tone of voice.

“Henry,” he said gently. “You can’t just - decide to change that law! There are protocols-”

“Why not?” his son asked petulantly. “You’re the King! Can’t you just override them?”

“It’s not that easy,” Stoick countered tiredly. “Especially for such old laws. We’d need to gather a council and that would require summoning nearly all our nobles to court, which is a terrible idea due to the war-”

“Oh!” Hiccup interrupted excitedly. “I have news about that too, actually.” Stoick cast his eyes to the heavens and prayed to be given patience. His little son had been doing so well, becoming a knight easily and getting glowing reports from Captain Throk about his time in the Berk Guard, but the King struggled to see the disciplined man from the reports in the sulking son in front of him. What had he done wrong? All his manners had disappeared along with his friend, that Astor. Maybe he should look into finding a way to station that boy in court permanently, if only for his own peace of mind regarding the Heir.

“You know of the Red Death?” Hiccup questioned.

“The bandit leader, yes,” the King said with an impressive deadpan. His son let out a nervous chuckle.

“Ahem. Yeah. So-”

“I don’t see how they would pose a threat, Hiccup,” the King pointed out sternly. “We have the Berk Guard to deal with bandits, and the Red Death’s appearances have been steadily declining, both in frequency and damage caused.”

“Uh-huh. Yes. That’s true. But, you see, that’s just to keep us distracted, Dad,” Hiccup pointed at him. “I happened upon Trader Johann-”

“What on Midgard were you doing with Trader Johann, Henry?” the King boomed, exasperated.

“Er, nothing! I wasn’t trying to find him, but I did, and the point is -”

“What were you doing if you weren’t trying to find him then?” Stoick said sharply. Hiccup let out a huge sigh and his shoulders sagged.

“Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?” he scowled. His father leaned back in his chair.

It wasn’t often that Henry came into the office or shared ideas of his own free will, Stoick reasoned. Maybe it was something worth listening to. And he could say he tried when Valka got on his case again about interacting with their son. He gestured for the Prince to go on.

Hiccup squared his shoulders. 

“Dad, there are things we need to change.” Hiccup spread his hands out in front of him, looking at his empty palms before dropping them to his side again. “We aren’t being torn apart by war, but it is getting in the way of our country’s progress. And what are we actively doing to try to end this war? Sure, we’re fighting, but that’s really just keeping us at a stalemate. A stalemate where people are dying.” He walked over to his father’s desk and started carefully moving things out of the way to better display the map underneath. “This,” his finger tapped the territory where Berk was fighting against the Wilderwest, “this is just the beginning of a bigger plan, Dad. Why are we still fighting when we know Drago isn’t even there?”

“How do you know-” Stoick scowled threateningly. He would have to invest in some better doors and guard rotations.

“If he isn’t there, that stands to reason Drago’s somewhere else,” Hiccup continued, pretending not to hear his father’s accusatory question. “He’s always coveted our land, we know, so did we withdraw any troops to try to cover our bases back here?”

“There is no need to inform you of all of our movements, Henry,” Stoick said stiffly. Hiccup drew himself up to look his father in the eye. He had grown, the King realized. He had grown so tall that when he was sitting and his son was standing, he had to look up, just slightly.

“I’m the Heir of Berk,” the Prince said grimly. “I should know what I’m getting into. And I’ve been avoiding my responsibilities, but, well, let’s just say someone knocked some sense into me.”

“Johann?” Stoick asked incredulously. Hiccup gave a weak chuckle.

“No,” he said softly. “Someone else.” He clenched his jaw to keep himself from saying anything more about it, and Stoick refrained from probing. He blinked a few times to clear his head and continued.

“The point is,” he went on, “Are we employing anyone to try to locate where Drago is?”

“We deployed nearly a third of the Berk Guard to the army, actually,” Stoick admitted, a little impressed with his son’s decisiveness. This was the man who coincided with Throk’s glowing reports after Henry had resigned from his position in the Berk Guard. “The fighting has picked up with renewed vigor, and Drago’s infantry is fighting differently to ours, which took us by surprise. So we are a little spread thin as it is.”

Hiccup let out a puff of air. “Okay,” he nodded absently, calculating to himself. “Johann has given me a lead. According to him, Drago is hiring out the Red Death’s Dragons. Has been for years.” Stoick paled.

“That’s right. Thousands of bandits who gave us plenty of trouble when we only had to deal with a dozen of them at a time. We thought Drago’s resources were running thin - and maybe they were, but I’m afraid that’s only pushing him to win this war faster. And he’s been planning this for years; the Dragons haven’t died out, they’ve simply been leaving to go to Drago. But we still thought we knew where Drago’s army was, and haven’t seen much of an increase of soldiers where they are fighting, which makes me think maybe Drago’s planning to attack us somewhere else, somewhere our guard is down.” Stoick stayed silent. Such thoughts had been bugging him in the back of his mind and he had refused to hear them, but now his son laying out the facts in front of him made him convinced that Henry was right.

“How did we not know this?” He asked despairingly. “Have we not tried to get information from Johann before? Why tell us now? How did you even extract this information?” He didn’t think of his son as able to potentially torture information out of someone, but what did he know?

“I saved his life. Again,” the Crown Prince shrugged his shoulders casually. “But,” he frowned. “I don’t think we should trust Johann as often as we do. He trades with Drago’s armies too.” Stoick growled.

“When this war is over, he shall be banished,” he vowed.

“But he has given us valuable information,” Hiccup reminded his father. “He said that apparently Drago’s General Krogan is meeting with the Red Death - he doesn’t know why, but I suspect it’s probably to get a move on. Dad, I think we’re on the cusp of something dangerous here.”

“Aye, I’d say so too,” Stoick agreed. “When and where is this . . . meeting . . . happening?”

“In about three weeks time,” Hiccup reported, “But I’d go earlier, scout the land out first and all.”

“And where is this?” the King prompted.

“I, uh - oh!” Hiccup patted himself down. “It’s uh - it’s in my bags but it’s right around here.” He took a pencil and drew a circle a little to the north of Raven’s Point.

“That’s about a fortnight’s ride from here in a group,” Stoick shook his head. “And we’d need another two weeks to gather enough forces here . . .” he trailed off in frustration.

“Well Toothless and I could reach there in ten days,” Hiccup said contemplatively. “And we’d probably only need a few days of rest before we go. I um, I rode him pretty hard this week and he deserves a rest.” Stoick hesitated at the thought of letting his son ride into such danger. Hiccup’s mouth pulled into a wry smile.

“Let me do it. It’ll be a stealth mission; I’ll recon and find out what’s happening and report back to you. Please. Let me do something,” he pleaded with his father. The King sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His son was trying to step up, despite his previous reluctance in taking on the kingdom’s tasks. Something had happened, clearly, for his heir to suddenly be barging into his office and offering to participate in changing old laws probably in need of being reviewed and helping with the war he had always found distasteful.

“Do it, then,” Stoick acquiesced, suddenly desperate for a nap or a brick of ice to hold to his head. “By all means, go. I’ll get preparations started while you go tell your mother.” Hiccup winced but nodded and turned to leave.

“And Henry,” he called. The prince stopped short of the door and tilted his head back to look at his father.

“Yeah?” Hiccup asked.

“I’ll start drafting the letters to summon a council,” the King promised. “You’re right; it’s time to change some things around here.”

“Really?” Hiccup checked, a strange feeling in his throat. Stoick nodded encouragingly.

“Thanks, Dad.” He slipped through the office door and stood there for a minute, just staring down the hallway. There was a lightness to him despite the lump in his throat that hadn’t left in the past few days. It felt like a happy melancholy. He was doing something, he was initiating the change that needed to happen, and if there was one thing to come out of his failed proposal, maybe it was that. And maybe once he’d accomplished this task he could go back to Astrid and just - and just tell her thank you one more time. For being her. For being honest and unafraid to smack some sense into his head. For making him a better person even when he didn’t want to be. And maybe - maybe he’d finally be worthy of her.

.oOo.

Astrid gulped as she entered the palace grounds. The guards at the gate called greetings to her and she nodded sedately at them but didn’t remove her helmet. She was here on a mission, but it hadn’t been worth cutting the hair she had spent so long growing out. And the wigs were so itchy.

Not that that mattered. It had been a week since she had last seen Hiccup. They had gone longer without seeing each other, of course, but never on such bad terms. Even when she had been mad at him for not telling her his identity (the irony was not lost on her) before they became friends (but even then, she had been shocked at how hurt she had felt from his not trusting her with who he was. She had already been walking along the path that led her heart to him, even if she hadn’t realized it then.) it had been she who was mad at him, and that had made forgiving so much easier.

It was harder to forgive him when he was the one with more of a right to be mad at her.

There was no hearty greeting from any of the Royal family. The palace seemed rather quiet, but Astrid could sense a silent hum and bustle as if everyone was scurrying around quietly to prepare for something. She knew that feeling well; it had been her favorite feeling as a young teenager during the preparations for her surprise birthday parties. If she had had a goal any less important than finding Hiccup immediately, she might have stopped to try to figure out what the castle was preparing for.

“Hullo, Sir Hofferson!” Bucket greeted Astrid as she located him by the kitchens.

“Good day, Bucket,” she greeted him in return. “Is . . . the Prince available to see me?” The servant made a face.

“Oh. Uh, well, y’see, he’s kinda busy, His Highness is.” A heaviness settled in Astrid’s stomach, like a ship filling with water before it sank.

“Busy with what?” she asked lightly, hoping there was a plausible reason he was avoiding her. Bucket frowned.

“I, err, I can’t say, Sir. ‘S classified, you see.”

“Ah.” Yes she did. She was glad the helmet she was wearing obscured part of her face. Oh dear Thor, she had messed everything up, hadn’t she? Hiccup didn’t want to see her. She nodded her thanks to Bucket and began to make her way back to the stables.

But wait! Hiccup may not want to see her, but she did, dammit. And she would. She marched to the stables, but not to get Stormfly; just because the Prince was trying to avoid her didn’t mean she couldn’t find him herself. And if Hiccup was anywhere - besides the forge - he was with Toothless, who was commonly found in the stables. And if Hiccup and Toothless were already out of the stables, well, Stormfly and her knew where their friends liked to ride.

She had never really fought with Hiccup before. They had their differences, yes, but it was rare they turned to disputes. They had a higher tolerance of each other’s snappiness than anyone else, but on the few occasions words had risen to flared tempers and sullen faces, after stalking off and employing the cold shoulder for a couple of hours, they inevitably found each other and resumed their easy comradery, dispute forgotten, or at least, firmly in the past.

Which made Astrid realize the fact that she had never truly apologized to Hiccup before. She didn’t think of herself as narrow-minded or averse to trying new things - surely her history of experiments with the Prince could attest to that - and yet. It was going to be very hard to apologize to him.

Not because she would have to admit she was wrong. Well, she didn’t like being incorrect, but if there was anyone she didn’t mind admitting her imperfections to, it was Hiccup. She had trusted him with her greatest secret, and they had never lost their closeness - what were a few mistakes after that to him?

So why was she anxious about owning up to this mistake?

Because she had hurt him this time. And not the kind of hurt like when she’d accidentally punched a painful bruise, or given him that bruise to begin with during sparring. She had hurt him. The part of him she so treasured, that unique person who she had fallen in love with so thoroughly and scrambled her mind and altered her heart so it wasn’t hers, but his, and it was only residing in her chest for safekeeping.. 

She had seen it in his face, that flash of hurt as shields had slid over his eyes, defending his display of vulnerability. She had seen that expression so many times over the years, but never before had she been the cause of it. His defensive barbs had simultaneously affected her less and yet hurt her more, because he was hurting. And she had noted the way he had been her goodbye at last, holding himself stiffly, but with that raw note of pain in his voice. His fists that had been clenched to hold in his anger, were now clenched to hold in his tears.

The basis of every apology was ‘I’m sorry,’ Astrid knew. But how could two measly words ever repair the damage she had wrought?

The Prince was indeed in the stables, securing a rather heavy looking sack to Toothless’s saddle.

“I was hoping I’d find you here,” she said, grateful for the steadiness of her voice. She leaned against a stall nonchalantly, her heart beating a nervous rhythm. She hadn’t flipped the visor of her helmet, which meant he couldn’t see her face. Hiccup swung towards her with wide eyes.

“As - um, Hofferson! What ah, what a . . . surprise?! I - what are, um. You doing here?” He frowned confusedly, and Astrid noted bitterly that the usual light in his eyes when he beheld her was gone. Why, oh why, had she not noticed how in love with her he was? Or had been, now. Why had she pushed him away and lost him?

“I came to see you,” she said frankly. She opened her mouth to say something only to find her mind blank.

Hiccup looked at her impassively. “Go on.”

She had always laughed when Hiccup used to complain to her about his father putting him on the spot and forcing him to make speeches. Hiccup was surprisingly good at impromptu speeches, so she never let him sulk for too long about something he thought he could have done better but which everyone else was impressed with the result. She had been put on the spot before for strategy, on the occasional chance that a superior was out of commission, and she had always handled it calmly, for the most part. But people’s lives weren’t in the balance, only the remnants of whatever she and the Prince had. Even when she had confessed to being a girl, he had finished her sentence for her, completing her like only he could. She had a feeling he wouldn’t try to make it easier on her by guessing what she was saying.

“Hic- um, Henry,” the name felt foreign on her tongue. She had never called him by his actual name before. She could recognize it when someone else called him that; it was like her name, or not-name. Everyone knew her as Astor and him as Henry, but to each other, they were Hiccup and Astrid, and those had been the names that mattered. The Prince looked pained at her use of his proper name, too.

“I wanted to see you,” she said honestly. “I -” she let out a heavy breath and shook her head. “I hate the way we left things.” Hiccup opened his mouth as if he wanted to interject, but thought better of it.

“The truth is, I - you caught me at a bad moment, and things came to the surface that probably shouldn't have. A lot . . . changed . . . during the time I was away and your arrival triggered some - issues.” Hiccup crossed his arms and leaned against Toothless, who was looking at her impassively. Great. His horse was mad at her too.

This was stupid. There was no way she could explain things to him without delving deep into her feelings, and she wasn’t ready for that. Maybe she’d never be. And Hiccup had every right to be mad at her, and she was mad at him, she’d realized. Yelling those things at him had made her realize frustrations she hadn’t known existed, and she was angry at Hiccup for not seeing what she needed before she did, but she also knew that was unfair. She had no right to be mad at him for not doing anything when it had never occurred to her to try to bring about those changes herself. She had thought that maybe she could convince Mother and Father to let her be a knight a little while longer so she could try to change the law. Maybe she could eventually find a way to reconcile with Hiccup, so he could be Hiccup to her again. Maybe she could even get him to fall in love with her again. She had thought all of those things were possible, but now, standing in front of him with a helmet masking her face, she couldn’t even manage to apologize. She had only muttered excuses. She turned away, shame coursing through her body and flushing her face inside the metal. She hoped her breathing stayed quiet, for the metal magnified each sound and she didn’t want Hiccup to think she was crying.

Hiccup let out a breath, more disappointed than anything, and started to take a step toward her turned back. Astrid interpreted the noise differently, however, and stiffened.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted and whirled around, starting as she saw Hiccup closer than she expected. He stumbled back a step in surprise and flung his hands up in the air in surrender but she continued. “I’m sorry for hurting you but I’m not sorry for the things I said.”

Hiccup regained his balance and Astrid took another step closer. “I’m sorry I never said anything,” she went on. “I’m sorry you never did anything! I’m sorry for not telling you to leave. I’m sorry I didn’t make you come back. I’m sorry for yelling at you instead of just telling you what was troubling me. I’m sorry I kept trying to push you away,” the last word was hard to say as her throat was clogging up. No. She did not want to sound like she was crying, dammit. She wasn’t crying, for Thor’s sake! She was just emotional, and she didn’t want to be, so she took another step towards Hiccup and shoved his chest. It wasn’t forceful, and he caught her arm with a gentleness that made her want to collapse into him and just let him hold her up for her.

“I’m sorry I fell in love with you,” she said angrily, her voice rising. She sniffled a little bit. “I’m sorry I never told you I love you back,” she said thickly. “I’m sorry for all the times I didn’t realize you loved me too, and I’m sorry for leaving, and I’m sorry for losing you right after I had you. I’m sorry this world isn’t perfect yet, and I’m sorry for what people say about you, and I’m sorry for thinking badly of them for saying those things, and I’m sorry ‘sorry’ doesn’t sound nearly sorry enough because I don’t know how to apologize properly and -” She cut off as she felt a tear roll down her cheek so she raised her hand on instinct in hopes of wiping it away quickly enough to Hiccup not to notice, only to realize that she still had that metal helmet on, and she had just given herself away.

Hiccup noticed because, drat him, he always did, and he began to raise the visor of her armor. Fuck. “No,” she whimpered brokenly but made no move to stop him, so he continued until she felt the kiss of fresh air on her face.

“I dunno,” he said softly as he wiped the tear from her red face. “That was probably the best damn apology I’ve ever heard.” She didn’t look up at his face, choosing to watch the rise and fall of her hand on his chest - she hadn’t stopped touching him since she’d shoved him - because what kind of Hofferson cried during an apology??

“Hey,” he said, cupping her face, not an ounce of disgust for her sniffling and crying or even pity for how pathetic she was, just pure compassion. “Hey, it’s okay to cry.” He handed her a handkerchief and waited for her to finally meet his gaze. “I have an apology for you too, you know.” Astrid smiled wetly and resisted the urge to bury her face in his shoulder.

“You had a right to say all those things, and you were right. I’ll admit I was angry and hurt but you made me think about everything, Astrid. And I’m sorry for not doing anything sooner.”

“What did you do?” she asked him, half warily, half scoldingly.

“Well, for starters, I talked to Dad.” He made a pained expression. “Unfortunately, such important laws based on generations of prejudice will take a while to undo - years, he said. But, I’ve convinced him to summon a council as soon as possible so we can propose an Amendment.” Astrid blinked rapidly, trying to process that. She had been expecting to have to publicly advocate and eventually find a sponsor to be able to bring the matter up to the King, so then summon a council, but Hiccup had just skipped those steps.

“I know it’s not much,” he defended himself in a rush, “but at least we’ve started, right?” He shrugged his shoulders in that over-exaggerated way of his. Astrid’s mouth parted in stunned surprise. 

That perfect, irritating genius.

“You didn’t,” she breathed incredulously, searching his eyes to see if it was all a joke. “You . . . you did all that?”

“Yeah,” Hiccup said, like it was obvious. “Of course.”

Astrid hesitated. “For . . . me?” she whispered tentatively. She bit her lip immediately, cursing herself for such a foolish question.

Hiccup broke into a beautiful toothy grin. “Who else?” he asked her, like she had the answer to that question. “Well,” he amended. “There was a selfish component too, but . . . mostly for you. Yeah.”

She wanted to cry, but she wasn’t going to. This idiot wasn’t going to make her cry three times in a week, or so help her Odin. “Even though . . . even after . . .”

Hiccup gave her a soft smile. “You apologized for that,” he waved his hand as if that was the end of it. “And, I was sorry too, you know? I just - wanted something to show for before I came back to apologize, and then you came and did it first.” Astrid shook her head in disbelief.

“So, are we . . . okay?” Hiccup asked hopefully. Astrid couldn’t help herself: she hugged him fiercely, burying his face into his firm shoulder and inhaling deeply. His arms wrapped around her tightly and didn’t let go until she loosened her arms around him first.

“We’re good,” Astrid agreed, wanting to tuck her hair behind her ear as she pulled away but her helmet was still on. Her eyes drifted towards Toothless, watching them with wary approval, and she frowned as she noticed the saddle bags. Why did he have saddle bags? Hadn’t he just got back to Berk Palace? He wasn’t the type of man who was constantly hungry, at least, not when she offered to cook. Hiccup’s eyes followed hers to Toothless and his gear.

“Ah,” he said, understanding her thoughts before she did.

“What are those for?” she asked, a little accusingly. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Oh, haha, yeah, that . . .” Hiccup scratched the back of his head. “Um, well, if you’ll remember, changing laws wasn’t the only thing you yelled at me about.” Astrid’s brain took a moment to compute.

“Hiccup!” she cried, outraged. “You can’t just - stop the war!”

“I know,” he placated her. “I can’t do it myself. But I can be one of the people who help stop this war.”

“You- ugh!” she rolled her eyes. “What are you doing then?”

“Trying to intercept one of Drago’s Generals,” Hiccup said seriously. “Krogan. We think he’s hiring the Red Death’s Dragons.” Astrid’s jaw dropped.

“Where is this taking place?” she asked.

“Ah, I can’t tell you that,” he tsked. “It’s classified.” Astrid scoffed.

“Well, who’s going with you?” she demanded. Hiccup didn’t answer.

“You’re going alone?” she exclaimed angrily. Hiccup shrugged and nodded at the same time.

“Yeah. The meeting’s in less than three weeks’ time, and that’s not long enough to gather a proper squad.”

“No,” Astrid said firmly.

“What?”

“You’re not going alone.”

“I can’t just wait around for - oh,” his face lit up as he understood.

“I can’t let you just risk your life like that on your own,” Astrid said haughtily.

“Could Stormfly take the journey? We’re going to Raven’s Point.”

“Oh, so now the location isn’t classified,” Astrid said saucily. “And she’ll be fine; I rode her pretty gently on the way here.”

“I’ll go get you some food and meet you back here then,” Hiccup said excitedly.

“Half an hour,” Astrid promised. She practically ran to her mare, buzzing with a happy thrill. Stormfly seemed pleased at the prospect of leaving, too. Astrid exercised her enough to keep her in good shape, but it had been a while since she’d raced with her old friend Toothless.

Hiccup met her at the stables with a huge pack of supplies and more coins, and showed her the map he’d acquired from Trader Johann while he explained their route.

“Are you ready?” he asked her as she mounted Stormfly, who tossed her head regally.

“Of course,” Astrid assured him. He swung up onto Toothless, checking his bags a last time before clicking softly to the horse to start moving. She felt better than she had in months, in fact. The alluring promise of the end of the war called to her, and with Hiccup by her side, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

The evening bell began to ring as they passed the gates, and they set off in a steady trot northwest, into the setting sun.

#The Lady Knight #my writing #Hiccstrid fanfiction #Hiccstrid medieval au #HIccstrid au #hiccstrid #my fics #HTTYD #httyd fanfiction #Hiccup Haddock is both a badass and a simp #Astrid . . . has a lot of things going on #idiots #mutual pining #obliviousness #love confessions #a bit of angst too #way more introspection that I had planned #astrid hofferson #hiccup haddock #how to train your dragon

[kbandtrash]

Rich Boy SF9 Bullet Point AU (Hwiyoung x Reader)

~Rachel~

Masterlist

Yeah I did it again. And Jaeyoon is technically in the works. Also it's wild to me that Hwi and I are both 99 liners that's weird

Content: strangers to lovers, fluff, kissing, pretending not to know him, not exactly office romance, cooking, some rich ajussis are mean to you

Word Count: 4k

The first time you met him

At a meeting between your businesses for some legal negotiations

He was cold and chic and only said what he needed to say

The second time you met him

At the press conference announcing the collaboration of your companies

He was still cold and chic, but he had a little more charisma

But the third time you met him

At a public weekend cooking class your friend had promised to take with you

(She bailed)

He was unrecognizably warm and charismatic

You were unsure that he would recognize you because of the large difference in positions at your respective companies

He being the heir to his

And you being the lead public relations specialist in yours

So you chose a table sort of behind and across from him so you could both observe him and watch the teachers at the same time

Now you know that boy was raised rich

And if you weren’t 100% sure that you recognized him and the luxury brand watch on his wrist

You would have thought that he had a doppelgänger

What was a guy like him doing in a public class like this?

Didn’t he have the money to pay for someone to do this kind of stuff for him?

But he watched the teachers so intently and he looked like he knew his way around this stuff a lot better than you did

This was the first time you had seen him genuinely engaged and looking like he wanted to be there

Like sure at work he had nice eyebrows and he was admittedly pretty handsome or whatever

But wow when he was in his element he was positively radiant

Even if you hadn’t known who he was beforehand you probably still would have been staring at him

Somehow you managed to make it through the class without burning the food or yourself

But then you got paired with him for taste testing and you wished you were the fire on your gas stove

That is to say

Gone. Put out

If he recognized you then what

Pretend to be someone else?

You weren’t sure why you didn’t want to talk to him

Much less have him try your food

Probably something along the lines of he was so much higher than you on the business chain and how on earth were you supposed to just interact like you were equals

Too late he introduced himself

“Hi I’m Hwiyoung”

Oh good

“Hi I’m (Y/N)”

Lots to unpack there

He didn’t recognize you but he introduced himself casually and so you felt like you should too but oh man you knew who he was and that was totally out of line

But he did not care so you were just going to pretend like you didn’t care too

“Can I try yours first?” he asked

“Oh yep sure go ahead”

You were still speaking casually since he was and boy did it feel wrong but you couldn’t stop it from coming out of your mouth

It was also weird watching his face while he took a bite like no this dude is so much higher up on the social scale than you could ever hope to be but oh boy you really hope he likes it

It’s like anime sparkles were in his eyes

“Oh yours is different than mine! I like how you did it”

Insert joke about getting a good grade, which is both normal to want and possible to achieve

“I have strong opinions about garlic,” you said

“I can tell,” he responded, taking another bite

He let out the tiniest “oh wow”

This was both extremely gratifying and embarrassing at the same time

At the beginning of the class you were very excited to tell your coworkers what you had seen but now you thought you might die if anyone else found out

“Ah sorry!” he interrupted your thoughts, setting the plate down “I forgot you need to try mine too”

Honestly you were a little scared by his reaction to yours

If he thought your cooking was that good then his must be…subpar to say the least

But no even though you felt immense pressure to react positively as he watched you expectantly

You didn’t have to fake your reaction at all

His version of the dish fit your taste perfectly

He read your reaction wrong though

You had frozen stiff in surprise and he thought it meant that it was bad

But no no no you had to reassure him that you just had a bad case of rbf and actually it was really good

The next time you saw him at a meeting he did not recognize you

You figured he must meet a lot of people and rely heavily on context in order to recognize them

Plus you didn’t know if the cooking class was a secret or not so you didn’t want to out him accidentally in a professional environment

Not to mention he was back to his cold and quiet demeanor so that was intimidating

So you let the meeting pass without trying to say anything potentially out of line

And when you met again in your cooking class on the weekend he waved you over to share a station with him

You tried to make small talk with him about who he was and what he did just to make sure he really was the person you knew that he was

But he kind of steered away from any specific answers and that in and of itself was sort of confirmation

“What do you do for work?”

“Oh I work at X Group”

“That’s pretty prestigious what do you do there?”

“Just some administrative stuff you know”

You did know

And then he asked you the same questions

“So how about you what do you do?”

And you realized that if you answered then you would end up giving him a lead on who you were and that actually you had met in other circumstances

But like what are you going to do lie???

“I work at K Company”

“Oh right we’re doing some stuff with them these days. Are you involved with that?”

“Um yeah just some pr stuff though I’m not actually on the collab team”

He nodded you know the way you do when you’re like okay nice that’s your life

And then he froze in the middle of stirring the pan

Face just melted in realization

“We already know each other don’t we”

Oh no

You didn’t want to make him feel bad because you didn’t have any hard feelings that he didn’t recognize you

But also you didn’t want to make him feel awkward or threatened because that was how you already felt and you had no intention of holding anything over him

And you didn’t want him to go into business mode either because that was boring

But more importantly this was clearly supposed to be a comfortable space for him and you didn’t want to be an intruder

“I should have said something earlier,” you apologized

What next

What were you supposed to say next huh???

“But you were cute, so…”

NOT THAT

YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO SAY THAT

His ears flushed red and his eyes went wide

Attention went right back to the pan

And yours went back to cutting up the garnishes

“You’re um…”

He cleared his throat

“You’re cute, too”

OH???

This was only week two of cooking class

If anything was supposed to happen here it should have been down the line

No no no none of that nothing was “supposed to happen here”

He was like your boss-in-law that wasn’t allowed

But it wasn’t like you had approached him on purpose knowing who he was

It was kind of him that made the first move right?

Also it wasn’t like you technically met at work or anything so I mean

Maybe if he meant it then you could accept the compliment at least

Looking up as you shredded a carrot, you noticed his ears glowing like traffic lights

He was laser focused on making sure the pan was cooking evenly

“Oh um…thanks”

“Plus I like the way you balance spices” he added

“Oh um…” you repeated, apparently out of things to say “thanks?”

He cleared his throat and let the awkward silence build

For the rest of the class

In fact even as you said goodbye he just gave you a shy wave in return

And you knew you had broken this for him

You debated not going the next week

Or ever again

But also you had the same right to be there as he did and like just because he was some rich ceo heir dude didn’t mean he had more of a claim to that space

If he really wanted he could just hire a personal tutor probably

But still though you felt bad

You saw him at another meeting between your two companies

Yeah he recognized you this time you could tell

You tried very hard to focus on the notes you were taking for the press release stuff

But that was hard when he was making it obvious that he was trying not to look at you

You were starting to think that maybe he wasn’t like actually cool and chic

Maybe he was just raised as a sort of loner type and he was bad at talking to people

And maybe you had sort of tricked him into opening up to you in the cooking class

Whatever he was a rich boy heir to a company why did he need your sympathy??

Also he started it so you didn’t trick him into anything

But did he know that

Perhaps not

When the end of the meeting came he decided to say goodbye to everyone who came personally

(Side note we have a word for say hello (greet) but not say goodbye and this makes me angry every time I remember it)

But yep said goodbye to everyone

Shook their hands and thanked them for coming with a professional smile

But when it came to you it was hard for him to keep up his act

So he shook your hand and made shy eye contact for just a second before he looked back down at your hands

“I’ll see you next time, Miss (L/N)”

You were the last one out and it didn’t seem that anyone from your group was waiting for you

So you felt you had time to reply

“At the next meeting? Or…”

“I was hoping on Saturday,” he responded

“Unless you would rather not”

Oh

So he was okay

Then you were allowed to be okay with it, too, right?

You didn’t have a problem with it unless he did

So you smiled too

“I would like to see you on Saturday, too, actually”

It was like looking through a tinted window, but you could see a bit of the version of him you saw in the kitchen classroom for a second

And you know what.

Yeah okay it was cute

When you told him he was cute the first time you just meant like. It was sweet like aww good for you buddy

But now when your brain told you cute it meant oh dear he’s attractive

That was not ideal

He’s just a dude he’s just a dude

But he’s a rich and handsome dude

Not that the rich and handsome should matter necessarily

Doesn’t hurt

But the cutest things about him were 

1) he was so excited about cooking like passions are super cute

And 2) it kinda looked like he might be interested too? Lol?

Mutual attraction law something something if he’s attracted to you first then like that’s the main thing that attracts you to him?

I believe in the power of that to some extent

Anyway that’s definitely what was going on here

May or may not have kept you up at night a bit

So when Saturday came and he wanted to share a station with you again

Keeping your composure and looking like a sane person that was totally okay with just being friends required 99% of your energy

Unfortunately the topic of the class was not something you could breeze through with the remaining 1%

So you were left either to be an incompetent mess of a student

Or an incompetent mess of a human being

Luckily that was not a conscious choice for you to make

Luckily being used in loosest of ways

And you ended up being both an incompetent mess of a student and a human being anyway so there went everything

Your supposed cooking prowess

Your potential as a friend found in an unlikely place

You were a shame to your ancestors, who had all clearly found love and reproduced if you were alive

How many hundreds of people had lived before you in order for you to be alive

And you couldn’t manage to do the same thing

Sike

He was a terrible mess as well

Both for the cooking and the human-ing aspects of the day

Partnered up at the same cooking station once again

Not even both of your combined efforts could make a successful dish

And the conversation the whole time?

Awkward and stilted enough to have been between two poorly built chatbots

Every time your eyes met it seemed like an accident

By the minute you thought he was handsomer and handsomer

And he kept turning redder than the cherry tomatoes you were supposed to be roasting

But by some miracle

He managed to work up enough conversation skills to ask you to dinner with him

“We didn’t manage to make anything edible today, so should we see how professionals do it?”

And like how can you say no

Turns out he had made a reservation for some super fancy place you’ve never heard of

And your brain is like okay let’s break that down

Fancy place very expensive way out of your budget

But he made the reservation so he planned on paying right?

He made a reservation wow

This was pre planned he wanted to take you to dinner anyway

Regardless of if what you made in the cooking class was edible

That was just an excuse

He wanted to spend more time with you and he had planned on it

Now you were a little scared of rich people shenanigans

So you were still wary of picking up this extremely obvious hint

Like normal boy? Yeah of course he’s into you

Rich boy? He might want something and this is a manipulation tactic

But in class he was a normal boy

He was so down to earth and awkward and cute

So you really wanted to take this at face value

Honestly at this point with any other boy you might have asked him out yourself already

But with rich people there’s a pride factor and you were kind of scared about it

Strangely though pride was not an issue here today

At least in terms of clothing

Neither of you were up to dress code at all for the restaurant because you were coming straight from the cooking class pretty much

But the staff recognized him apparently and they were cool with it?

When you looked at the menu and the prices you wanted to disappear immediately

The cheapest thing on the menu was daunting

But he pulled your menu down from your hands and put it on the table

He flipped a few pages and pointed to a dish

“I wanted to take you here because I thought you would like this one”

Okay yep you got that one loud and clear

This was a date and he wanted to spend time with you on purpose

He had been at a place like this and he had thought of you

Well then.

Guess it was time to let him know you thought of him the same way

You ended up ordering what he suggested for you and he was absolutely right

He also let you try a bite of what he ordered

And that was really good too

“But,” he said, “I don’t think it’s as good as how you might do it”

Challenge accepted

“If we buy the ingredients tonight then maybe we can try to make it tomorrow?”

His eyes lit up and his mouth stretched wide in a smile at your suggestion

And it was a plan

But then you were interrupted by some very well dressed older men

And unfortunately they recognized Hwiyoung

He didn’t seem terribly thrilled by this

But they made him talk to them anyway

They didn’t seem rude but they weren’t being terribly polite either

It felt weird to just sit there but you had no idea how to insert yourself into a rich people interaction

Plus by the way he glanced at you it seemed like he didn’t want to get you involved

But this guy is anti-smooth unfortunately so looking over at you inadvertently drew attention to you as well

And they started asking questions rather disdainfully

As he answered them honestly and with the most positive light he could, you were amazed at the lack of shame these men had in talking about you as if you weren’t there

Or as if you had no right or ability to contest the opinions they were forming about you

It seemed that Hwiyoung was more hurt by this than you were, somehow

When they finally left, he sat down with his business personality

“I think I’ve lost my appetite,” he admitted disappointedly

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t defend you properly, but if I tried, they would use more than their words to tear you down”

You shrugged

“They seem pretty wrapped up in their own importance”

His mouth twisted into a sad snicker

“It’s not a fun world to navigate”

You made a few more jokes at the expense of the rude rich dudes

And it kind of worked to bring him back to you

By this first experience with the upper class, you weren’t particularly fazed

But you wondered, if you stayed by his side, what the tenth encounter might do

The hundredth

The thousandth

You were so jumping the gun but they were valid thoughts to have it you were thinking about dating a guy that lived in this realm of wealth and self-importance

But as you wandered the supermarket aisles with him, picking out ingredients

You also wondered if he couldn’t do anything now because you were still testing the waters

He didn’t seem the type to let comments like that fly under the radar

So you wanted to give him another chance

He walked you back all the way to the front entrance of your apartment building

He could have driven

But, he bashfully admitted, he wanted to spend more time with you

It was hard not to invite him up, but it felt a bit improper

If you were the one storing the groceries, it would have only been natural

But since you would be cooking at his place the next day

And since he had more storage space anyway

He was taking everything with him

You felt sort of bad watching him walk away with like four bags of groceries

But it was also uh

Kind of hot

Plus like he volunteered himself for it he would be fine

The next day he greeted you at the front gate of his (ridiculous) house

With only the boyfriendiest of boyfriend vibes

It already felt like you were official honestly

It was such a weird and fast jump but it felt like you had always been together rather than this being like. Your second date

You spotted some hired workers trying to stay hidden as they spied on you

That was a little weird

But fumbling around and learning to cook this dish was far more captivating

And the boy? Far far far more captivating

It really didn’t feel right that you had only met a few weeks ago

That fact itself was more surprising than the moment you suddenly found yourself inches from him with his hand around your back and his other hand intertwined with yours

And you swayed back and forth to the music that was somehow exactly perfect for the moment

Yeah that just felt natural honestly

Last night you felt improper about letting him up to your apartment

Ha

Now here you were slow dancing in his kitchen

In matching aprons

Yeah you were done for

Head over heels he was your man now

Your free hand magically made its way up to his face and cupped his cheek

He was leaning in and your eyes fluttered closed and then

A timer going off startled you both into remembering what got you here in the first place

So you finished your dish and then sat down to taste test

And he was absolutely right

It was better when you made it together

The smile on his face told you everything you needed to know

The sparkle in his eyes when your eyes met was confirmation

It was so strange the next time your companies had a meeting

Employees on both sides were so confused

Since when did President Kim…….smile

Or speak in a voice that wasn’t monotone

Something changed……weird

By some miracle no one noticed the expressions you two exchanged

Neither of you were being subtle

But I guess if people don’t want to see it then they won’t

And your funny little secret totally flew under the radar

Also the next time you were caught by mean old chaebol men at a restaurant

He kinda let them have it when they tried to make disparaging remarks about you

He was so well-spoken too like you could tell he rehearsed it twelve hundred times in his mirror

They just kinda left with slightly humbled expressions

And he sat down with this disgruntled little huff and apologized to you again

His parents are like “well hmmm you’re not exactly who we hoped he would end up with…..”

You could see it in his eyes Hwiyoung was ready to go off on them

But then they were like “but. this is weird. we raised the boy and nothing but cooking ever makes him smile this much. welcome to the family”

Now he’s self conscious about how much he gets excited apparently because HE didn’t think he was that stonefaced

(You totally were babe. I almost didn’t recognize you the first time we met)

(It’s work!!!! Why do I have to be excited about business!!!!!!)

But he’s YOUR stonefaced ceo chef boyfriend so

He supposes it doesn’t matter that much as long as you like him that way

Anyway once again I shall leave you with your first kiss

It happened the same day as when you went over to his house to make that dish

After you had eaten you could tell he was a little nervous about something and you couldn’t figure out what it was

Were you accidentally being mean to him and you thought you were being flirty

You didn’t think so but now you were nervous about it

No turns out he was just thinking about how you totally would have kissed if that stupid timer had gone off even like five seconds later

And he was trying to find an entry point back into that mood because he was kind of scared to just like. kiss you

Anyway he ended up mumbling that when you asked him if he was okay and you barely caught any of it

But you managed to catch the message

So you asked him if he had a good view of the sky from anywhere in his house

Yes he did have a nice balcony with a perfect view of the sunset

So you let him take advantage of the slightly chilly spring evening and the golden hour

And he kissed you properly

Chani

#sorry the blocking is weird i think they changed something with tumblr about like character per text block limit :/ #sf9 #sf9 x reader #sf9 hwiyoung #hwiyoung #hwiyoung sf9 #hwiyoung x reader #rich boy au