#i only ship them in a way that they were in love but snow never deserved sejanus and i hope sejanus memory haunts him EVERYWHERE he turns | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

americaswritings · 5 months

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Voices of Roses and Ruin

Warnings: Psychological torture, manipulation, Coriolanus being himself

Summary: Coriolanus is forced to watch the gamemaker use his voice against you in the arena.

Words: around 2k

Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: I watched TBOSAS yesterday and yeah don't judge me but young Snow is hot and I shipped him and Lucy Gray a lot (until it all went downhill cough cough). Obviously he's horrible and does many unspeakable things later (!!!). But I think the idea of a love story between a mentor and their tribute has so much potential and when I saw the birds in the film I thought of this idea.

This is written from Coriolanus perspective (I haven't read the book yet. I just bought it and I'm so excited to read it!). I obviously wanted this to be about real feelings, but I tried to stay true to his character so there are some 'questionable' and alarming thoughts and motifs in here.

Can be read as Lucy Gray x Coriolanus Snow here

Part II | Masterlist

Coriolanus had thought watching you in the arena, alone and scared, hiding from a pack of murders that were hunting for your life was among the worst things he had ever gone through, but nothing could have prepared him for the Gamemaker’s new horrendous plan.

He was tired, just as you were, but refused to go home like most students had done. Instead his head was resting in his hand as he kept watching your sleeping form, as if he could protect you if he just kept his eyes on the screen and on the lookout for a potential threat.

He wouldn’t be able to do anything for you, if the pack of murders found you. He couldn’t warn you or give you advice.

All he could do was sit here and watch and he found himself thinking if this was not the worst torture of them all; being trapped here while you were out there and all he could do was watch.

You were trembling in your sleep, if from the cold or fear he didn’t know, but he kept his expression carefully guarded as he felt his own heart breaking bits by bits.

Even there covered in dirt, with your hair a wild mess and your clothes strained with mud you looked breathtaking to him.

You were pretty, there was no denying that. Everyone else saw it too. He saw it in the way heads turned for you, men‘s eyes raking over your body like you were theirs to take.

He hated it, every part of it.

They all deserved to die.

But it wasn’t your looks that had drawn his attention to you. What had fascinated him. He liked to think he wasn‘t shallow like most people and blinded by pretty things.

No, what has drawn him to you was the way you carried yourself. The confidence you wore like an amour. Yet you were breakable at the same time.

You seemed to be made up of duality; strong but so weak, fierce but uncertain, opinionated but withdrawn, stubborn but helpless.

You were a dangerous little thing and a petite fragile flower at once. Drawing all eyes on you but forgotten due to your ordinariness by most after a moment.

Not by him though. To him you could never be ordinary.

It was frustrating and captivating and alluring.

Naturally, his constant worry for you since you had entered the arena stemmed from his will to get the scholarship. It was what he deserved and he would claim it.

Tht was why he was so engaged in saving you, not because of the deep unease he felt when he saw you in that arena, your eyes drifting around frantically until they passed a camera and he could have sworn they had locked on his for a moment.

It had nothing to do with the way his whole body seemed to light up when you smiled or the invisible pull he felt towards you when you were in the same room as him.

He definitely didn’t want to kiss you and he didn’t dream about you since the reaping, when his eyes had fallen on you for the first time and he had only thought one thing: You’re mine now.

Mine to claim, to showcase, to protect.

He had gone into the mentorship thinking he would use you to serve him and his purpose of getting what he deserved, but as he watched you now, still rooted in his chair although a deep exhaustion weighted down his body, he knew he was serving you.

Being here with you every second of the way. Vowing to protect you. Whatever it took.

You awoke from your restless sleep right before the screaming started. In an instant you were up, your eyes widened in panic as you gazed around, trying to locate the source. With the rest of the students that had stayed Coriolanus flinched in his seat, leaning forward to try and help you figure this out.

As quickly as it had started the screaming stopped and for a moment you were one, both breathing and blinking heavily as your mind tried to make sense of what happened.

And then he heard a voice. His voice. “Follow me.”

He forgot to breathe for a moment as he stared at what was happening in pure shock. You seemed just as confused, turning around in circles as you tried to find him there.

„Coriolanus?”, you whispered and took a step forward, towards the voice. “Follow me”, it whispered again and he watched you do.

No, no, no.

Around him he heard chuckles from the other students, but he drowned them out. All he could focus on was you, following his voice through the darkness. “Where are you?”, you hissed, your eyes darting around. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here for you.”

He sank lower in his seat, wishing himself somewhere else. It wasn’t him saying the words, obviously, but it was his voice and everyone could hear it, see you follow it.

He hoped people would laugh about you. About your nativity and the brilliant idea of the gamemaker to use your mentors voice against you. Hell, he didn’t even care, if they thought you might have a silly little crush on him and the gamemaker used it against you.

Because if people knew the whole truth, he couldn’t imagine the catastrophe that would follow.

The truth that there was something between the two of you, the mentor and the tribute. That it was something he couldn’t explain, but had let him do dangerous things. Break rules. Forget himself.

The truth that this might not be him speaking those words now, but that he had spoken them to you once. Had they been listening all this time?

His stomach twist in terror as he tried to remember all you had shared with each other, all he had said to you. Promised you.

It would ruin him.

“I can’t see you”, you whispered now, being led further into darkness.

Damn it, think! He wanted to yell at you. It’s not me. I’m not there.

There was no reason for him to be there.

Except…there was.

“I’m here to see you. I won’t let anything happen to you!”

“How cute”, one girl hissed in his ear, but he remained stoic. “She’s as dumb as they come”, another said and he wanted to punch her. Enjoy the feeling of triumph when she looked at him in horror and didn’t dare open her mouth again.

“Looks like you’re guiding her straight to her own death. How ironic.”

And it was ironic.

Maybe in his attempt to protect you, save you, all he had done was ruined your one chance.

All he had said to you to make you trust him and then because he hadn’t been able to stop himself were used against you now and all he could do was watch. Keeping his face carefully blank he shut out their voices. They didn’t matter.

Finally he saw you hesitate. Maybe you had remembered his exact words or maybe you realized that you weren’t getting anywhere. That if it truly was him he would have just stepped out of the shadows and shown his face. “Is this real?”

Oh how funny it was to the people around him. He hated them all. Every single one.

Your words hit a mark. They pierced right through his heart, because he had said them to you. Whispered them. Before your farewell, when he had visited you one last time.

Your faces had only been separated by a few inches and he had fought the urge to kiss you right there and then. But he couldn’t.

Because of everything, but also because it felt too much like goodbye. It was stupid, but if he didn’t give into the temptation then, a part of him hoped it meant you would come back to him.

That your chapter wasn’t over, your story just starting. He would kiss you when you won. When there was a chance for a future with you.

Still those words had escaped his mouth, like he needed the reassurance that you felt the same way. That this meant something, so much that it was worth the risk.

Coriolanus leaned forward in his seat, hope blossoming in his chest. He didn’t know why whatever game they were playing with you hadn’t affected the other tributes yet, but he was sure their time would come.

And right now it seemed you wouldn’t fall for their tricks. Because there could come no answer to your question, as he had been the one asking it.

But he had underestimated the gamemakers.

Instead of a reply there came a scream and then a groan. “Coriolanus?” “Help me!”, he heard himself yelp. What?! He had never sounded like that.

But then flashes came back to him. The bombs. How the arena had collapsed, almost burying him alive. He would have died there, if it hadn’t been for you.

You had saved him.

But how in the hell did they get his voice now?!

“Coriolanus!”

Gone was the glimpse of hesitance and suspicion and you began sprinting into the direction the voice was coming from.

No!

He watched with dread as you ran directly towards the sound. It’s not real, he whispered, knowing you couldn’t hear him but desperately hoping somehow his words would reach you.

When you stumbled upon a clearing you jerked to a stop, twisting and turning, your gaze furiously searching for something.

“Coriolanus! Tell me where you are!” But he could only hear his own painful screams, in between pleading for your help. Sounds he was certain he had never made.

What was this?

With a stab of pain he saw your face was tearstained. You were crying. For him. For someone from the capitol.

Was this what the gamemaker wanted?

Whatever you did or said would never matter again.

All everyone would see when they looked at you now was the broken girl in a dark forest, all alone and desperate and crying for a man she never stood a chance with.

A man who knew hunger just as you did, who in a way fought for survival every day too. But they would never see that, because unlike you he wouldn’t let them. Where you had no choice, he still had one. And he was watching that one chance crumble in front of him.

Flashes of a better life filled his mind.

A house. Plates of food. Tigris smiling. His uniform, a real one made from the finest materials hanging draped neatly over a chair. Laughter echoing through the corridors and then a flash of your face as you stepped into the room, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you leaned over the desk to peek a look at what he was working on.

It was the life they deserved, he deserved, if he got the scholarship. But you were there too. Alive and well, just as breathtaking. And you were his.

There had never been the choice between the scholarship and you, because they were one. Your life was connected to it and so his was to yours.

But now he could loose both and he felt the agony of that thought travel through his whole body.

The screaming seemed to be everywhere and he watched helplessly as you bent forward, covering your ears. All he wanted was to get the screaming to stop, wrap his arms around you and tell you everything was okay.

Instead he forced a neutral expression on his face, as if seeing you break didn’t break him the same way and pray for this hell to end.

Part II

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theonotti · 4 months

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SILENT NIGHT | OS | t.n.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader!Riddle

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: The ghost of Christmas Eve Past haunts Theo's present, but not because he needs to change. He needs a reminder of who to never become.

Warnings: Major Character Death (Not Theo or reader), Domestic Violence (Not with Theo or reader), Hurt/Comfort, angsty, fluffy,

Notes: I'm late, but heres a Christmas one shot for Theo :)

That Final Night | Mio

Christmas Eve: Then

“Teddy? To bed, my love.”

Theo smiled from his hiding spot behind the curtains. In his eight year old mind, there’s no way she could see him. He was invisible. Behind the silky fabric, he ceased to exist. Beyond the darkness between the window and the curtain, Theo could hear the sounds of his mother’s heels tapping against the hardwood. She was close. He could see the outline of her silhouette from the other side of the thin curtain.

“Father Christmas won’t leave any presents if he knows a certain boy is still awake and hiding!” Her honey soaked voice echoed out again. Before Theo even had the chance to process her words, the curtain was ripped away and he was in his mother’s arms. She spun herself around, making Theo fell as if he was flying through the air. His shrieks of laughter bounced off the thinly decorated walls before she slowed to a halt, smiling lovingly at the wavy haired boy.

“Come, love,” She whispered to him. “I have your tea ready.”

Setting him back down to his feet, Cassundra Nott smiled down at her son before leading him out of the sitting room and down the corridor to his bedroom.

Theo didn’t like walking the halls of the mansion, despite his many years of living there. The energy in the air was always so grim, the walls bare and painted a dark grey colour. Theo was convinced that there were demons in the walls, due to the screams he could hear coming from them some nights. His mother assured him time and time again that they were only in his nightmares, but Theo was wise for his mere eight years. The nights he heard the screams being the same nights he would see his father go into the basement of the house as the young lad was ushered quickly to bed was not lost on Theo.

In fact, it only made him wonder if his father was summoning the demons, keeping them there as a way to ensure Theo stayed in line.

There was only one person who brought any slither of warmth under the cold roof of Nott Manor, and it was the woman walking a few paces ahead of him. Her golden blonde curls trailed down her back, her delicate fingers tracing an invisible line into the wall as she led Theo to his bedroom. He looked at her with such incredible awe. Theo didn’t worship any sort of God, because no God could even come close to comparing to the wonder that was Cassundra Nott. If someone told him that she hung the stars and the moon every night, and that the sun only rose because she asked it to, he would’ve easily believed them. There were few people that Theo had in the world. His father’s care for him only extended as far as keeping the Nott legacy going. So that left Theo with three people: Mattheo, Draco, and his mother. But she topped the list. In every circumstance, she topped the list.

His mother opened the door to his bedroom, ushering him inside. The dark green of the walls made the room seem much darker than Theo would like. His father insisted on the colour scheme matching that of Slytherin house, as if it would somehow eliminate the already incredibly low chances of him ending up in another house come time for him to ship off to Hogwarts. His slot in the House of the Cunning and Ambitious was as guaranteed as the snow falling in the winter, or his father downing half a bottle of whiskey before dinner. Theo wished the walls were blue, though he learned the hard way to not let that thought be anything more than a thought.

A steaming mug of tea was sitting on the bedside table, waiting for him as his mother pulled the blankets out for him. Her smile was warm as he walked over to the bed, crawling under the covers and taking the warm mug between his hands. He knew it had Calming Draught in it, as he received this same dose in his tea every Christmas Eve, as well as the evening before his birthday.

Cassundra sat on the edge of the bed as she watched Theo take a long sip from the mug.

“Are you ready for Christmas, love?” She asked gently, raking her fingers through Theo’s hair. As he swallowed the tea, he nodded vigorously.

“I hope Father Christmas got me the broom I asked for!” He exclaimed. “Mattheo let me try his new broom and it was so fast! I bet I could get to Scotland in under five minutes.”

His mother laughed softly before saying, “Under five minutes? That sounds rather fast.”

Theo nodded enthusiastically.

“I could get to Hogwarts faster than the train! I won’t even need to take it! And then I could come visit you every single evening, so you can give me a kiss and a cuddle goodnight.”

If Theo weren’t so young and oblivious, he would’ve noticed the flush that filled his mother’s cheeks, or the tender smile that pulled at the corners of her lips. Or even the sadness that filled her eyes over the idea of him leaving her.

“Well, we have a few years yet before we have to worry about that,” She said delicately. “Maybe if you don’t get a broom this year, you’ll get one the Christmas before Hogwarts?” But all this response does is make Theo groan in displeasure.

“I don’t want to wait two years! I want a broom now!”

His mother smiled at his impatience, hooking her finger underneath his chin and forcing him to look up at her.

“I know you’re excited, lovely boy,” She said in a soft voice. “But I promise you, you’re going to have a good day tomorrow. I’ve made sure to let Father Christmas know how wonderful you’ve been this year.” She scrunched up her nose as she kissed the tip of his. “He doesn’t need to know of the times you were trouble.” She tilted her head as she looked down at him. “Surely he won’t disappoint.”

Theo looked up at his mother. Of course she was right. She was right about everything. And he trusted her more than anyone else to make sure Father Christmas knew what he wanted more than anything for Christmas.

Theo finished the last of his tea, making sure he got every last drop like he always did. When he set the mug down, he smiled up at the beautiful face of his mother, who was already smiling down at him. The potion’s effects were already starting to take hold, the running wheel of his mind slowing to a halt as his eyelids grew droopy. With one hand on the back of his head and the other on his shoulder, Cassundra laid Theo down against his pillow.

“Now,” She said, her voice more stern than normal. “What are we not going to do this year?”

Theo let out a tired sigh.

“I won’t sneak down before morning to see what gifts are left for me.”

His mother nodded once, definitively.

“We don’t need another episode with your father.” In his obliviousness from ignorance and the Calming Drought effects, Theo didn’t notice the disdain in her voice, or the fear that flooded her face. Though he did remember the events of the year prior, the screaming from his father at all hours of the morning, followed by Theo being banished to his room until midday.

“I won’t sneak down again, mamma,” He said in a small voice, a yawn escaping him as his eyes began to droop shut.

Cassundra tucked the blankets in before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Theo’s forehead.

“Sleep well, il mio tesoro,” She said in a quiet whisper as the chestnut haired boy had already lost himself to his subconscious. With one last loving look, and a delicate trace down his cheek to ensure he was really sleeping, Cassundra Nott stood up from the bed and left the room, closing the door tightly behind her.

Little did she know that this would be the last time she saw her son like this.

It was only a few hours later that Theo was awoken by none other than his bladder. He squinted his eyes in the dark as he jumped out of bed, all but running from the room as quickly as his still asleep legs could take him. It wasn’t until he was in the bathroom that he started to wake up. The clock in the hallway chimed three in the morning, meaning his mother was long asleep. His father had gone out to celebrate the holidays with a few other Death Eaters, and he made sure to tell Cassundra and Theo that it was unlikely he would be home before dinner the next day.

Just one peak.

And then you’ll be back in bed.

No one will ever know.

The logic made sense to him, and before he knew it, his feet were carrying him out of the bathroom and down the hall. Walking right passed his bedroom, he went right to the stairs and slowly tiptoed down.

It wasn’t until he was halfway down the stairs that the voices registered.

“...wake Theodore, please keep your voice down.”

“How dare you police me in my own home!?”

The slur in his father’s voice was so prominent that he almost didn’t recognize him, though the yelling was a sound the young lad was deeply accustomed to. Theo sank down so he was sitting down on the edge of the step, his hands gripping the wooden poles of the bannister as he watched his mother cower. Standing behind the man of the house was a flash of long, platinum white hair with a cane that was used in this moment to stop him from swaying. Next to Lucius Malfoy was Fenrir Greyback, his arms bare despite the raging cold outside, and Antonin Dolohov, who had a flask to his mouth as he watched Nott Sr. in amusement. All of the men in the living room were inebriated beyond belief.

Cassundra swallowed hard before she spoke again. The fear was so clear cut on her face that Theo wanted to rush to her and cup her cheeks, telling her all would be okay.

“I’m not policing you…” She said in a small voice. “I just think it’s Christmas Eve, and I’m setting up for Theodore, and-”

Her words were lost to the force of Nott Sr.’s hand wrapping around her throat and slamming her against the wall. Her head was unable to bounce forward, but it was evident by the deep grimace on her face how hard it was hit. The reverberation of his mother’s body denting the drywall caused Theo to fall backwards, almost falling down the stairs entirely.

“Are you arguing with me?” Nott Sr.’s voice was so low that Theo almost couldn’t hear it. But he’d learn how to pick out that voice at a very young age. It was how he knew when to go sit quietly in his room with a book, remaining unseen and unheard.

“No!” Cassundra was able to gasp out, her hands trying and failing to pry her husband’s calloused fingers from her throat.

“That sounded like arguing to me, Nott,” Lucius piped in. “Can't let anyone think your wife wears the trousers in the household, can you?”

Theo was not a violent child, but the sound of his best friend’s father egging on the abuse of his mother was filling the eight year old’s chest with a level of anger he had never felt before. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch. He wanted to hit and hit and hit Lucius until his big, ugly nose went flat. But the fear that his mother taught him to have of his father and the other Death Eaters pulled at his muscles, keeping him frozen on the stairs as he watched the scene unfold.

Before Theo had a moment to breathe, a wand appeared in Nott Sr.’s free hand, the tip pressed into his wife’s jugular. Theo could feel the air being ripped out of his lungs as he watched the colour leave Cassundra’s cheeks. Her face was illuminated by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree beside her. Theo’s face was pressed against the wood, so much so that his head was almost fully squeezing between the poles.

“You ungrateful bitch,” Nott Sr. sneered angrily. “Disrespecting me in front of my colleagues.”

“Are you planning to let that slide, Nott?” Fenrir chimed in with a laugh before taking a long swig from a bottle of firewhiskey.

“Maybe I should have your voice?”

His wand didn’t even move, but a spark of light still shot out of the end, and suddenly, Cassundra’s mouth opened and closed, but no words, not even a stammer or faint whisper, came out. Hot tears spilled down Theo’s cheeks and onto his pyjama bottoms, but he didn’t notice as he watched in horror while his mother tried to speak but only air left her mouth.

Please stop.

Please don’t.

I couldn’t handle never hearing her speak again.

Or hearing her sing to me.

Or hearing her say my name.

Theo’s hands gripped the poles so tightly that his knuckles turned a blazing shade of white.

Nott Sr. threw his wife to the ground as Lucius, Fenrir and Antonin laughed in amusement, as if Nott Sr. had told a joke or done something funny. But none of this was funny. Not to Theo, who wanted to run over and protect his mother. Who wanted nothing more than to bring the same sort of pain to his father and friends that they were bringing to the most important person in his life.

“A woman must remember her place,” Nott Sr. continued on, pacing slow circles around his wife while his fellow Death Eater’s watched in belligerent amusement. The slur in his voice would’ve added a sort of facetiousness to his words, but with the way he looked down at the blonde figure he had just thrown to the floor, it only made it more menacing.

“And how will you remind her?” Lucius asked, causing Theo’s father to turn and look at the blonde haired man with a smirk.

“I have a few ideas in mind.”

Cassundra attempted to scream with every fibre of her being, veins popping out of her neck and forehead while her skin turned a dark red, but no sound came out at all. Theo felt her pain as if he, too, had his voice taken from him, as if he had been slammed against the wall, as if he had been thrown to the floor.

Nott Sr. turned back to his wife, the smirk fading quickly from his face and replaced with disdain. He raised his wand above his head.

Theo blacked out.

The eight year old’s legged carried him at a speed he didn’t know he could move at, until he was throwing his arms around his mother, guarding her.

“Father, please,” He sobbed into her soft blonde curls as he addressed the presence towering over them. Cassundra wrapped her arms around Theo, noiselessly comforting him as her fingers raked through his hair, her eyes squeezed shut. The room went deadly silent for a brief moment.

“You will learn to speak when you’re bloody spoken to, boy,” Nott Sr. sneered, his voice low and filled with even more anger than before as he grabbed Theo by the back of his shirt and ripped him out of his mother’s arms, tossing him across the room so hard, he slid across the hardwood floor and into the wall. A shadow leered over him as Nott Sr. rounded on Theo, his wand at the ready.

“If you’re so desperate to be a man, then you can handle her punishment then, can’t you?”

The next few moments went by so quickly, yet also as if they were in slow motion.

Nott Sr. raised his hand above his head, the tip of his wand igniting into a bright red colour.

A flash of blonde jumped onto his back, tackling the older man to the ground.

Lucius and Antonin grab Cassundra off Nott Sr. and toss her to the floor once more.

And then, the flash of green.

He didn’t hear his father speak. Hell, he didn’t even see his father get up from the floor. But make no mistake, Theo didn’t miss the older man, with the wild chestnut hair that he did inherit and the menacing look that he did not, pointing his wand at his mother, sending the bright green spell directly into her chest.

She was gone before the scream left Theo’s mouth.

“No, no, no, no, no, no…”

Theo crawled across the floor, moving his mother’s head from the floor to his lap as he placed his hands on either cheek.

“Mum, please,” He begged, staring into her lifeless eyes as they remained open. “Mamma, wake up. PLEASE WAKE UP!”

“For Merlin’s sake…” His father mumbled before flicking his wand once more. Theo’s voice evaporated off his tongue, but his lips still moved as he soundlessly begged his mother to come back to him. His tears fell onto the bare skin of her shoulder, and he wondered if they would be enough to warm her back to life. When she didn’t stir, Theo broke down entirely, holding her head close to his chest and burying his face in her golden curls as he began to rock back and forth.

“One of the house elves will clean it up,” Nott Sr. said to his friends, as if speaking about a

spilled dinner plate and not the dead body of his wife. “Come, gentlemen. The parlour is where my

reserve is, and I need another glass after that… unfortunate incident.”

And so Nott Sr. left the room, followed by Malfoy, Dolohov and Greyback, leaving his grieving son on the floor, where he stayed for hours until the house elves finally pried the body of Cassundra Nott out of his hands.

The hands that would never get to hug or touch his mother ever again.

Christmas Eve: Now

The sound of a crash echoes throughout the kitchen, followed quickly with a loud groan.

“Sorry, sorry…”

“I swear to Merlin, Malfoy, if you wake up my wife, I’ll throttle you.”

A slew of drunken laughter fills the kitchen as the three men clamber in through the back door. Draco respectfully picks up the trash can he knocked over under the watchful eye of Theo. Once it’s back in its proper position, Draco gestures towards it proudly, as if he had just done something profound.

“Happy, Nott?”

Theo bobs his head back and forth, pretending to mull this over.

“I’d be happier if you weren’t an idiot.”

Mattheo, who had just taken a large pull from the bottle of firewhiskey in his hand, spits it out all over the refrigerator.

“That’s like asking for snow in the middle of July.”

With a deep scowl on his face, Draco shoves Mattheo into the counter before sneering, “Fuck off, Riddle.”

Mattheo, in his truest form, makes kissy faces at Malfoy, who then proceeds to throw a kitchen roll at his head. Before it can hit the floor, Theo catches it in midair. The other two look at him as if he had just juggled seven kitchen rolls, or caught Baby Jesus himself.

“Alright, alright, let’s move to the parlour before the two of you destroy my kitchen.”

The walk from the kitchen to the parlour is one the three of them have taken on drunken nights like these hundreds of times, yet at this moment, the distance seems to have grown exponentially longer. Mattheo stumbles as he walks, a loud laugh escaping him as he anchors himself with the wall. Theo, in an effort to keep his friend quiet, smacks him upside the head.

“What was that for?” The dark curly haired man shouts, not without an undercurrent of laughter in his tone.

“For being a git,” Theo hisses. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

It’s too late though.

Over the sound of Draco’s giggles, Theo can make out the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Theo?”

His heart stops at the sight of you on the landing, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as they jump between him and his friends. He smiles sheepishly at you.

“Did we wake you, cara mia?”

You shake your head as you reach the bottom of the steps. He sucks in a large gulp of oxygen as he takes in the sight of you. Even in your pyjamas, he finds the sight of you simply breathtaking. The sleep stains on your face and the way your eyes droop makes his heart race as if he was just seeing you for the first time. With a slight sway in his step, his feet carry him towards your magnetic pull, his hands gently gripping your waist.

“You can tell me if we woke you,” He says in a gentle voice, an undercurrent of guilt filling his tone. But you shake your head again as you bring your hands to the tops of his shoulders, running your fingers along the curves of his muscles to the dip of his neck.

“I woke up a couple of minutes before I heard you come inside, I promise.”

He doesn’t believe you, but his blood shot eyes are so enraptured by the beauty that is your face that he doesn’t care. His hands move up to cradle your cheeks before he brings his face to yours, peppering your skin with kisses. Your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your temples, your eyelids. Every piece of you that he can reach gets a kiss. His fingertips tease weave into your hair as you place your hands on his clavicle, laughing as he kisses you.

From behind him, Mattheo and Draco both make fake retching noises.

“I’ve never met a more disgusting couple,” Malfoy whines.

“Truly the worst to be around,” Riddle adds in agreement.

“Oh, piss off to the parlour, you two,” Theo barks as he pulls his mouth away from your face. He doesn’t turn to make sure they leave, trusting the sound of their fading footsteps down the hall. His thumbs stroke the skin of your cheeks delicately.

“Happy Christmas, my love,” He says before gently kissing your mouth. You hum contently as the kiss lasts a few more seconds.

“Happy Christmas, Theo.”

The sight of you smiling up at him makes his stomach flip. He finds himself wondering how he got so lucky, finding you? From the moment you walked into his life that fateful day at Hogwarts, his life turned into a sort of dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. And it was made even better when you had married him.

Even after all this time, he can’t get enough of you.

“Get some sleep,” He says gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll keep the boys quiet.”

“Please,” You say, your voice still husky from just having woken up. “And please tell Mattheo that if he throws up on the carpet again, it’ll be him cleaning it up, not the house elves.”

Theo lets out a hearty, full laugh. It’s something his life is filled with a lot of these days. With his friends and you by his side, sometimes it’s easy for him to forget that it wasn’t always like this.

“I love you with my entire heart,” He slurs, gently kissing you again. “Please never forget that.”

You laugh softly again, the sound making Theo feel lightheaded. Or is it the alcohol? No, it’s definitely the sound of your laugh.

“I love you too, Drunky,” You tease him. “Please make sure you come to bed. Don’t fall asleep in the parlour.” He nods, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Yes, cara mia.”

You give him one last kiss to the cheek before you turn and make your way back upstairs. Theo’s eyes watch you the entire way, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as you disappear into the hallway. It isn’t until he hears the creaky bedroom door close that he finally turns and starts walking towards the parlour to join his mates.

As he walks down the hall, one of the pictures out of the corner of his eye stops him. Slowly, he turns, the amusement leaving his face as his eyes fall on that one painting.

His mother smiles down at him as she sits in a rocking chair. Behind her is a dark space where his father had been, up until a night of grief and alcohol caused Theo to direct a spell towards the fake personification, and subsequently led to the destruction of all paintings of his father in the house. Though he had the frame replaced, the damage remains.

His eyes trace the trail of golden curls that flow down her shoulders and upper torso. He can still remember how soft the strands felt when she’d kiss him goodnight and they’d brush along his cheek.

“Please tell me I’m not like him,” He begs her, his voice suddenly small. “Please tell me I’ve made you proud.”

She smiles tenderly down at him, his heart feeling ready to burst.

“Oh, il mio tesoro,” She says softly as his eyes flutter shut. “You're ten times the man he’d ever be. And I couldn’t be more proud of you if I tried.”

Theo smiles widely, tears escaping through his shut eyelids.

Bliss.

#theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theo nott x you #golden trio era #golden trio era fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

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bedoballoons · 6 months

Note

I wanna request smthng simple,,,

Any character with user that naturally have a really hot body temperature plz (on my knees)

This is actually right up my alley, I always run warmer compared to everyone else! I love it, thank you so much for your request and I hope you enjoy <3

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~To hawt~༺}

CW: Suggestive fluff! MDNI! Mentions of being in the shower together and multiple other scenarios! (Pet names: Lyney: Mon amour, Diluc: My dear, Albedo: My love,

(Includes: Lyney, Diluc, Albedo,and Wriothesley!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

You tossed and turned in bed, feeling like you were melting under the hot covers...when had the cold night air turn into muggy warmth. You lifted the blanket off of yourself, almost gasping at the relief the cooler air brought to your body, now if only Lyney could take the rest of the blankets so they weren't touching you at all, then you might just be able to-

"M...mmon amour?"

"Oh no did I wake you Lyney?"

"No, its just really cold out and I could feel the blankets moving. Why are you in uncovered? You're going to freeze to death. Here let me tuck you in."

"No no, that's okay! Ha, I was actually feeling warm!"

"..." He paused for a second, contemplating wether you'd actually meant your body temperature was running higher than a normal person's would...or if this was actually due to some suggestive dreams. The second answer left a bit of room for flirting, even if it was the middle of the night he'd never miss the opportunity. "Mon amour, if you are ever feeling overheated...you can always ask me for help~"

𑁍༄Diluc:

Diluc pulled back from the water the second it hit his skin, feeling like he'd just been hit with a bucket of ice water,...when he said he wanted to take a shower with you...he hadn't expected that to mean a cold one. "Ahem...could we turn up the heat of the water? I can't imagine what use we have for a cold shower at this moment in time."

"It's not cold though, this is my normal shower temperature. Actually it's a little warm for me." You smiled at him brightly, rubbing shampoo into your hair while he stared back at you in shock...how could water that felt like it had been shipped right from the dragon spine streams...be what you shower in everyday? "Diluc...?"

"...is it because you're to hot?"

Your eyes widened at his question, soap suds running down your soft skin as his face turned red, he hadn't meant it the way it sounded, but now of course he couldn't take it back, especially since the both of you were currently naked in front of eachother...trying to unsay something like that wasn't going to work in this situation.

"...."

"....."

"Just to hot to handle I guess."

"Yes, yes you are my dear."

𑁍༄Albedo:

"Here you go my love, please keep warm with it." Albedo draped his coat onto your shoulders, hoping to heat you up while the two of you watched the subtle snowfall of dragonspine. He wasn't sure how you hadn't started shivering already, usually humans would be freezing about now, but you actually didn't seem bothered in the slightest.

"Awe you don't have to. I'm actually not cold at all if you'd like to keep it." You snuggled up closer to him, emphasizing your body heat as your warm hand slid into his delicate cold one...you really didn't seem affected by the snow. How very interesting. "We've been together for awhile now and I've noticed you always tend to run warmer than others. Is there a reason behind this? Perhaps somewhere in your family lineup your relatives bonded with that of a pyro slime..."

"What in teyvat are you talking about? I highly doubt any of my relatives had relationships with pyro slimes, I just have a high body heat and being near you doesn't help." Your heart instantly picked up pace as your words slipped out before you could stop them...when had you gotten flirty?

"I suppose it would be a slimy situation either way then hm?"

"A-a-albedo!"

𑁍༄Wriothesley:

"How would you like your tea?" His grace set out a cup of sugar, excited to hear what kind of ways you liked to mix up the delicious drink. In truth this was a incredibly important question to him, after all it's his favourite beverage and he makes it often, knowing your order will tell him more about you and allows him to make it just the way you like from then on. He only hoped you wouldn't get tired of it soon after he started serving it to you..

"Hmm a couple spoonfuls of sugar and lots of ice!"

"...ice?" His ears perked up, attention fully trained on you...he simply couldn't imagine why someone would want to put ice into their hot tea. To cool it down? But wouldn't it loose it's flavour, leaving it more like a tea flavoured water instead?

"Mhm! Iced tea is so yummy and it makes it harder for my body to overheat!"

"...iced tea. Do you normally use ice as a means to cool yourself off?"

"...yes."

"Interesting, I'll have to remember that~"

"Remember that for what???"

"Nothing."

"Wrio??"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

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iggy5055 · 1 month

Text

Yandere Whitebeard Pirates X Reader Part 1

Summary: after (Y/N)'s older brother is murdered in cold blood she traverses the cold mountains of her island in an attempt to escape, only to be saved by some unsuspecting heros.

Warnings: gun shot, death, pain, trauma, lying, frost bite, start of emotional manipulation

A shocking outcome on the poll but here you finally go and thank you for all your love and support and your amazing patients ❤️

_________________________

The cold bit into my skin as I do my best to remain awake. Despite being raised in such cold climates I found myself being caught unawares and unprepared. Trudging through the cold windy mountains with nothing on my feet. I couldn't feel my toes anymore, my feet starting to turn a nasty blue and black color.

My hair no longer blew in the wind, frozen to my skull along with my tears. I shiver violently as my body tries to warm me up.

Even from the mountain side I could see my village, in flames. With my vision blurry it almost looked like the sun was rising, but I knew I wasn't that lucky.

I try and make it to the other side of my island, hoping that I could find a way off it and away from all the carnage. It was definitely a rude awakening when I was suddenly shaken awake by my older brother, yanking me out of bed and trudging through the snow towards the mountains. With no explanation as to why, but once I was outside, seeing the fresh warm blood melting and staining what was once pristine white snow with cannonballs and bullets flying in any which way I understood why we didn't have time to put on our shoes.

Houses were burning to the ground as families screamed inside trying to find a way out. And for those who had made it out trying to stop the bleeding of loved ones.

Even only being outside for a few moments I could already feel myself shivering in my light sleeping clothes. My brother holding me tightly by my hand as he drags me around as fast as he can. Weaving thought small alleyways and streets trying to avoid whoever was attacking. It had been made clear to me it was pirates, despite living in the new world we didn't fall under any Emperors protection, and we fairly ever saw marines aside from the occasional ship doing to re-supply. If they ended up here they are almost always off course. we were very close to the calm belt and pretty close to the red line, hence we are pretty out of the way.

Being a small winter island in an out of the way corner of the world came with many benefits. We almost never saw pirates, our island wasn't anywhere on the way to the final island so there wasn't a point to coming here, and with the lack of pirates meant a blatant lack of Marines, we were never in danger so it was never needed. At least never needed until now.

Panting heavily from running around our small little village I could hear loud laughing, Suddenly my brother stopped just as we were about to leave an ally causing me to run into his back.

I gasped quietly as I stood behind him. I couldn't clearly make out what I was seeing, but from the sound of pained screams and cruel laughing I figured I didn't really want to know.

I hid my face in my brother's back avoiding whatever he was staring at. I could feel him start to shiver as he slowly crouched down, leading me down with him, but I knew he wasn't shivering from the cold, he was shivering from pure unbridled fear.

"(Y/N), we need to be quiet and we need to be fast. We have to sneak by them and get to the mountains, once we get past them we will be able to find a boat on the other side and run. Do you understand me?"

I quietly nodded into his back, wanting to avoid making any sound.

Slowly while still being crouched down we moved out of the dark alley. Despite the carnage now being clearly in my line of sight, I stare at the wall of the building we were crouching beside. The last thing I wanted to see was the deaths of my friends. The thought brought tears to my eyes.

"We're almost there, just a little more."

I try to quiet my sniffles, even if it is dark. The fires that have been spreading start to illuminate the village as if it were the sun, and the soft crunch of the snow under my feet that seemed louder than ever when we are trying to sneak around and be unnoticed.

"HEY!!!!!"

My brother whipped his head around looking behind up then down at me with panic all over his face and fear in his eyes.

"RUN!!"

We bolt off into the tree that surrounds the mountains, I turn back to look at who was chasing us and for a split second it looked like a girl with long half up hair in some kind of robe, pointing a gun at us.

Just as I turn back around and run with my brother I hear the shot of her pistol.

"ARGGGGGGGGH"

My brother screams as the bullet narrowly misses me and hits his left shoulder blade. He released my hand from his crushing grip as he collapsed on the ground, clutching his shoulder in pain.

I'm about to get down beside him and help before he yanks me in front of him.

"RUN (Y/N), DON'T LOOK BACK JUST RUN!!!!"

Tears pour down my cheeks as I feel my brother's warm blood stain the snow and touch my bare feet, warming them but sending a chill up my spine.

"no, I d-don't want to l-leave you."

My voice was choked with sobs, as I looked past him and saw the shooter calling over more of her crew.

"You need to go. Find the boat on the other side of the and run, don't stop till you find help."

"I can't"

I can't help the hiccups that come out as I beg for him to get up and come with me, to hold on and to run with me.

My heart was beating a mile a minute. I swear it was about to explode.

"Please (Y/N), I can't watch you die, run. Live for me, find peace for me."

His voice crashed as he banged me to run. I could slowly see that light fading from his eyes. The blood poured out of his shoulder like a waterfall, clearly it hit an artery. I sobbed loudly as I clung to him begging him not to leave me and to get up.

"HE'S DOWN, GRAB HER!!!"

I look up to see several of the pirates making their way over to me and my brother, the woman no longer pointing her guns but still holding them. Now she was accompanied by three clearly tall and muscular men, all coming out of the town and making their way over to us.

I looked down at my brother again, seeing his pale skin and his dark lifeless eyes grow cold as ice. I gently kissed his forehead with shaky lips before getting up and running as fast as I could, regardless of my gut reaching sobs and hiccups.

I could hear them chasing after me, yelling and telling me to stop. Once I was in the tree line I started to zig zag through the trees, trying to be as quiet as possible while also avoiding being shot. Once I was a ways up the ridge I looked back to see the flames of my home grow exponentially.

I no longer heard the yells of the pirates chasing me but I didn't want to risk it so I continued up the mountain, cold rocks and ice cutting into my souls. I was clearly making bloody footprints making it easy to follow but if I'm lucky I'll make it to the boats quickly, leaving no more trails to follow.

I continue hiking up the mountain shivering like a scared lamb, all alone with my consciousness beginning to fade. Black spots started to appear in my vision, fading and reappearing. Between my fading vision and the darkness of the woods at the dead of night I could feel myself fading bit by bit.

It couldn't have been more than a minute till I collapsed into the cold snow.

"N-no, I-I can't d-di-e h-here~"

My voice faded into a whisper as I black out unable to move any further. But before I had completely passed out I saw a great brilliant light of blue and gold. Maybe this was the end of me, I could feel my last tear fall, sad I couldn't fulfill my promise to my brother, I guess now I could apologize in person.

—————————————

Consciousness came to me slowly, my body felt numb, like pins and needles had appeared all over my body, my extremities especially. I tried to move, lifting my hand only for it to feel like they were trapped under boulders. I tried to open my eyes, only to shut them just as quickly from the brightness of the room I was in.

I groaned in pain, even just trying to move a little bit hurt. Warm tears moved down my cheeks. Small sobs escaped my horse throat. I felt something small hop up on my bed, I felt what seemed like a small paws brush on my thighs over and over. A quiet whine came from what I now assumed was a small dog.

On one hand I was glad I wasn't dead, but on the other hand I didn't know it was possible to be in this much pain. Through my small sobs I didn't hear the creak of a door opening or the gentle footsteps coming closer to the bed.

It wasn't until I heard the dog on my lap bark and growl a little at the new stranger I even noticed someone was in the room.

"Quit it Stefan."

It wasn't until I felt the bed dip from the man sitting down beside me that I tried to open my eyes to see who was there but it was all still too bright. Soft hiccups left my lips now as I cried and tried to speak to this stranger.

"Shhhh, pretty girl. it's ok."

The man above me gently cooed as he gently ran his fingers through my hair, giving my scalp a light massage. I tried to do what he suggested and took a deep breath, holding it for a second and letting it out again.

"There we go, atta girl~."

After a few more deep breaths I tried to open my eyes again, I did it slowly and kept my eyes squinted, I could make out tan skin and an orange, what I assumed to be a hat, on the man's head.

"Ohh, it's too bright isn't it, here, gimme a sec."

The weight was lifted off the bed and the dog gave another little bark at the man. I heard the sound of shades being drawn and the light shining through my eyelids diminishes.

The man walks over and sits beside me again. I felt his unusually warm hand being pressed to my cheek.

"Lets try opening those lovely eyes again, huh?"

I slowly started to open my eyes again, after a second of adjustment and waiting for my tears to slow I looked up to see a handsome man with a big grin looking down at me. Now that I could see him properly I saw his incredibly toned skin, skin that just so happened to not have a shirt on it. He had a dark red beaded necklace around his neck and an orange hat on top of soft black locks. Looking over to the paws on my legs I saw a little white dog with a crescent moon mustache.

Looking back over to the handsome young man I tried to ask him where I was and what had happened. The last thing I remember was seeing a bright light before passing out in the snow. But when I tried to speak all that came out was sad little whimpers that hurt.

More hot tears fell from my eyes at the pain, I tried to lift my hand up to my throat but it also wouldn't move.

"Ohhh, Shhhhhh sweet girl, it's ok, it's ok. Just breathe, I'm going to go get someone who can help you ok?

I nodded as much as I could as my head fell back onto the pillow as I closed my eyes again, trying to manage with the pain as much as I could. I could hear his footsteps walk out and the quiet latching of the door being shut again as I tried to comprehend what was happening and how I got here in the first place.

As the sobs left my body I faintly heard the dog the man before called Stefan whine a little as he crawled over to my face, licking away my tears for me.

After a few minutes I opened my eyes again when I heard footsteps outside my room before the door began to creak open. The shirtless man came back but this time he wasn't alone. Another man with blonde hair and an open button up shirt and a blue tattoo on his chest, a tattoo that I recognized. When the other man closed the door I saw the large purple tattoo on his back, the mark of Whitebeard. I was with pirates.

I began to thrash around as much as I could, which really wasn't much but it was enough to have Stefan jump off of the bed. My breathing was uneven as I started to hyperventilate as I tried to get up to run away. All I was really able to do was to push the blanket off of me a little before the blonde instructed the other man, who he called Ace to hold me down.

Ace ran over to me moving in behind me so I was leaning against his back as his two strong hands held onto my wrists. Having him move me into a sitting position was less than comfortable but it wasn't as bad as when I finally saw why I was in so much pain.

My fingers, toes and parts of my legs and arms were black and purple, a clear sign of serious frostbite. No wonder I was in so much pain. but what was I expecting? Passing out on a snowy mountain in your PJ's was bound to do some serious damage. Tears continued to fall as I 'thrashed' to get out of his grip.

I knew there was no point, my merger strength was nothing compared to a seasoned pirate, but there was no way I wouldn't try.

"Marco, do something!"

I saw 'Marco' walk over to me with a syringe filled with some kind of liquid, making me try and thrash around even more. As he got closer Ace pinned down one of my arms to the bed. I began shaking my head back and forth, begging them to stop.

"N-no please n-o."

I could nearly get the words out as I begged them not to do anything.

"Shhhhh, Baby Bird. You're ok. we aren't going to hurt you."

I couldn't help my body trembling as he motioned for Ace to hand him my arm.

"Deep breath Firefly, just take some deep breaths with me."

I could feel Ace's chest rise and fall as he took some deep breaths, encouraging me to do the same.

At first I refused, keeping my eyes trained on Marco and the syringe in his hand, waiting for him to stick me with it, wondering what it would do.

But after a minute or two of him staring calmly into my eyes, massaging my wrist with his hand I could help but calm down as Ace helped me breathe.

"There we go, Little Bird~. This is just gonna help you sleep a little so we can fix you up a little more."

Ace began to gently rock me back and forth in his arms as Marco managed my wrist, slowly bringing the syringe closer and closer.

Ace nudged my cheek with his, pushing my head to look away.

"It's ok Firefly, it's just gonna help you nap a little, you'll be up before supper.

—————————————

Waking up a second time was a lot less painful than before, if not a little more panicked, I was able to sit up by myself and when I looked down to see my hands. They were wrapped in bandages that went up most of my arms, the same bandages going up my legs.

"Good to see ya finally up. Figured the dose Marco gave you wouldn't last too long, you musta just been really tired."

I gasp as I look to my right, seeing a tall man with brown hair, a goatee and wearing chef's clothes.

"The names Thatch, I'm Whitebeard's fourth division commander, I also just so happen to be the cook here on the Moby Dick."

My mouth hung open as I tried to figure something out to say, I couldn't help my trembling as another member of the Whitebeard Pirates sat in front of me. Talking to me as if we were friends.

I looked down at my hands again, not knowing what to say to him. All I could do was fiddle with the bandages only for a warm hand to engulf both of mine, making me look back at Thatch.

"Better not, Marco would have my head if I let you take off your bandages. He did his best to heal you but couldn't heal all of it, your frostbite was super extensive. He applied some kind of cream all over the parts he couldn't fix right away before he applied the bandages."

I slowly nodded at him, trying to subtly pull my hands away from him. His one hand completely eclipses both of mine but he wouldn't let me go, just giving me a little smirk when I looked back up at him.

"Come on Buttercup, we better get some food into ya, you can't heal with an empty belly."

Once he mentioned food I realized how hungry I actually was, not just hungry but really thirsty too. I nodded a little, keeping my head down as I tried to swing my legs over the edge of the bed to stand up only for Thatch to let go of my hands wrap his arm around my shoulders and one under my knees.

I flinched a little as he hosted me into his arms, my back was fine but my legs throbbed with pain.

He cringed a little at the sound I made when he picked me up.

"Sorry Buttercup, I know it hurts but trust me, having you walk right now would be a hundred times worse."

I begrudgingly nodded my head. As much as I didn't like being carried around if just being picked up hurt, I didn't want to know how much it would hurt to actually walk around.

Thatch smiled down at me and started to walk to the door, the second he opened it after adjusting me a little I heard barking.

I looked down to see the little dog Stefan jumping up at me, his front paws resting on Thatches legs.

I could feel the rumble of Thatches chest as he laughed at the little dog's antics.

"We had to keep him out of your room because he kept trying to take your bandages off, he really doesn't like them for some reason. But he's been guarding your room ever since we kicked him out."

Thatch walked down the long corridor and up a large flight of stairs. Stefan follows close behind. As he walked up onto the main deck I squinted my eyes. Wherever we were was hot, even as the sun was setting it was still so warm, a sharp contrast from my home island.

You could see nothing but sea from all angles, no land for miles most likely. The sun looked beautiful, reflecting the sun and the beautiful colors of the sky.

"Hey Firefly! You're awake!"

Ace jumped off the railing of the ship and ran over to us. I flinched back as he came closer and reached his hand out to touch me.

His face flashed with concern, looking over to Thatch.

"What did you expect, Fire Fist."

He rolled his eyes but before he could say anything someone cut him off.

"She's hurt, in a new place and surrounded by new people, slow it down Ace."

Thatch turned slightly and I was just able to see over his shoulder, Marco was walking over to us.

Ace nodded sheepishly. Marco walked in front of me, hunching over a little so that we were face to face, not giving me a whole lot of breathing room considering his last statement.

"How are you feeling, Baby Bird? Woozy, dizzy, nauseous?"

I tried to turn my face away, almost nuzzling into Thatches chest but Marco cupped my cheek with his hand, gently forcing me to look at him. He lifted his other hand to my cheek, slowly turning my head side to side ever so slightly. His eyes examined every inch of my face.

He raised his eyebrow a little, waiting for me to respond to his question. Thatch gave me a little nudge, silently encouraging me to answer him.

"I.... I feel f-fine."

My voice was barely above a whisper. Marco tilted his head at me, clearly waiting for me to say more. After a few more seconds of silence Thatch decided to speak up.

"Come on Marco, like you said, she's scared. I bet she'll feel more talkative once she gets some food in her system."

He signed but nodded, backing up a little, releasing my cheeks from his palms after giving them a stroke with his thumbs.

Thatch smiled down at me as I curled into myself as much as I could while being left and without hurting myself too much. It was uncomfortable being so close to so many dangerous and world renowned pirates.

Thatch flipped around, pushing a swinging down open with his back and walked down a small flight of stars and into a mess hall, but not before shooing Stefan away, saying no dogs were allowed.

Looking around I could see the mess hall being completely empty. it made sense, with it being practically dark now everyone would have had dinner by now.

I figured He would set me down on one of the many benches lining the long tables, but instead he flips around to open another set of doors and lead into a large, pristine kitchen. He gently sets me down on the counter top.

I shivered at the cold counter that touched the part of my bare thighs that wasn't covered in bandages. Ace and Marco stepped into the kitchen not too long after us. Ace noticing the goosebumps that had spread all over my skin almost instantly.

"Well that just won't do."

He hopped up onto the counter with me and grabbed my waist, hoisting me to sit on his lap. I yelped loudly, making Thatch look over his shoulder from his cooking only to smirk and look back once he knew I was 'safe'. At least in his terms anyway. On my terms on the other hand, this felt less than safe.

I adjusted myself in his lap a little but with his strong arms wrapped tightly around my stomach there wasn't much I could do. He rested his chin on my shoulder lightly.

He felt warm, almost too warm, as if he had a fever. his body heat began to smother away the cold from the room. After a minute small flames appeared all over his arms. I screamed a bit, causing Marco who was leaning against the counter, staring at a clipboard I haven't noticed he had and Thatch was still making me dinner to look over at us.

As I panic, screaming for him to let me go and try to get out of Ace's arms before I get burned I could hear Thatch laugh a little at my trying to get away. I didn't seem to understand what was so funny. One of his cremates had just erupted into flames with me held in a vice grip and he was laughing. If I wasn't so scared right now and badly injured I would try to smack him, pirate or not.

"Shhhhh, baby bird. You're ok. Calm down."

Marco was much more sympathetic to my fear. He stepped in front of me, holding my hands that had been trying to shove Ace's arms away from me, bringing my knuckles to his lips despite my harsh yanking.

"L-Let me g-go!!!!"

Ace leaned his head up, pressing his lips into my ear and whispering softly.

"It's ok Firefly, just calm down for a second. Focus on Marcos hands, on my voice."

After another second of panic I calmed down a little, thought it was less of me calming down and more of me losing what little stamina I still had.

Marco and Ace kept talking to me softly, coaxing me into relaxing as much as they could.

"See Firefly? It's not burning you. We would never let that happen."

I whimpered softly as they both held me close, keeping me from thrashing around. But at this point I don't think I could even if I wanted to. After a few minutes of Marco coxing me to take some deep breaths, Ace spoke up again.

"Do you know what a Devil Fruit is Firefly?"

I nod stiffly.

Thatch came to stand beside us. A plate of warm food in his hands. I stared at it longingly until Marco gripped my chin making me look at him again as Ace continued.

"Tell me what you know?"

After a few more deep breaths it was able to squeak out a reply.

"They are magical fruits that give whoever eats them powers, but they can't swim anymore."

I could feel Ace nodding as Marco gave me a smile.

"Anything else?"

I shake my head. While I knew what devil fruits where I was never interested enough to actually learn anything in detail.

"Well Baby Bird, there are a lot of different kinds of Devil Fruits. Some give you powers, some let you turn into animals and some like Ace can control elements, even becoming them if he wanted too.

I look back down at Ace's arms, the little flames still there.

"I can control the heat of my flames, Firefly. I could use them to burn my enemies, or warm up those I care about."

Ace lifted one of his hands and covered it completely in fire. Marco took one of my hands he was holding and placed it over Aces. I panicked for a second before I realized that the flame wasn't burning me. Just warming up my hand.

"See Buttercup, we wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

Thatch nudged Marco out of the way, causing him to let go of my hands, replacing them with a warm bowl of soup.

"Now eat up, you can ask all the questions you want once you are done."

—————————————

Once I had finished eating, Thatch had taken the bowl and washed it, Marco taking his previous spot in front of me. I looked up at him. Not knowing what to do next.

He looks down at my arms and legs, before looking back into my eyes.

"Before anything else I should check on your wounds and change your bandages. It's only been a few hours But I'd rather be safe than sorry."

I nodded at him, keeping my eyes down. As sweet as they all had been to me they were all more than a little intimidating.

Marco huffed a soft sigh as he picked me up and started walking out of the kitchen much to Ace's displeasure.

The second I was out of his arms the room seemed even colder than it was before,making the goosebumps coming back with a vengeance. Once Marco noticed he leaned down and whispered into my ear.

"We'll also find you some better clothes."

As warm as it was earlier the night came with an uncomfortable chill in the air especially out at sea. I nodded silently and nuzzled into him a little. As scared as I was, being surrounded by unknowns hasn't really hurt me yet and I didn't really have any option anyway.

Walking down a bunch of winding corridors we eventually end up in what I assumed was a med bay. It was really big all things considered. Not something I thought would have been on a ship but considering how big the ship was and how many crew members were aboard it made sense.

Marco set my on a cot closest to what I assumed was his desk. Behind it being several cabinets that lined the entire wall. Some of the doors had locks on them, others didn't. He walked over to one of the cabinet doors and opened it pulling out a small canister and some more bandages.

I nodded after a second. He smiled up at me before looking back to my leg focusing on the task in front of him.

He came over and knelt in front of me, taking one of my calves into his hand, looking up at me for permission. After all that had happened he didn't seem like the person to ask permission but I felt a little better knowing he wanted to make sure I was ok with his going any farther.

He slowly started to unwind the bandages, letting me see the damage again. In all fairness it looked much better than before but it still looked pretty nasty.

He examined my calf for a second before his hands erupted in blur and gold flames making me scream for the umpteenth time today.

Marco looked at me sympathetically.

"Its ok Baby Bird, I have a devil fruit too. It lets me heal any injury on myself, it lets me heal others but it doesn't work as well."

His voice was low and calm as he explained his abilities to me.

"It was you."

Marco glanced up at me for a second before focusing on my leg again, humming a question an what I was talking about.

Tears fell down my cheeks onto my thighs Marco stood up immediately once he noticed, taking my cheeks in his hands.

I shook my head as much as his hands would let me.

"What's wrong Baby Bird? What hurts?"

"On the mountain, before I passed out and when you put me to sleep."

I looked into his eyes,

"I saw the same flames."

He smiled at me and pressed his forehead to mine.

"Yes Baby Bird, I was the one who found you."

A sob escaped my throat as I tried to compose myself, I needed answers.

"W-what happened?"

He sighs again.

"You're Island had been attacked by Pirates, we had happened to be nearby when we saw flames in the distance. Once we got there it had been too late, the town was in flames with hundreds dead. We were fighting the pirates and looking for any survivors when I saw a trace of blood leading to the mountains, that's where I had found you collapsed in the snow"

I couldn't help the choked sob that came from me before I was finally able to say anything.

"Survivors?"

I couldn't stop my tears once he confirmed everyone else was dead.

Marco gave me a solemn look, before shaking his head.

"A-are you-u su-sure?"

I could barely get the words out through my sobs.

"I'm so sorry Baby Bird."

I collapsed into his arms, feeling him hold me tightly as I sobbed into his chest. Nearly unable to breath through my grief.

"Don't worry Baby, we aren't going to let anything happen to you."

But little did I know about the horrifying smirk on his face. Or his plans for my future.

#yandere #one piece #yandere x reader #yandere one piece #yandere one piece x reader #one piece x reader #whitebeard pirates #whitebeard pirates x reader #yandere Whitebeard Pirates x reader

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undiscovered-horizon · 4 months

Note

Hi, I read a few of your posts and I really liked your writing. May I ask a hcs/drabble/one shot of ONE PIECE with Shanks (and Mihawk if it’s possible) who are in a relationship with a woman who have her own crew and the woman flee away in their sleep, leaving them behind, with her crew after years of relationship? A bit angsty 🙊 and they never found her again, seeing her in newspapers or rumors only.

Thank you if you made it and sorry if It doesn’t suit your blog! Have a nice day <3

At first, he though he read the title wrong. But no matter how many times his eyes glided across the black ink, the newspaper headline said the exact same thing: BLACK TOOTH GRINS: A NEW SCOURGE?

There was a picture attached underneath the title. Part of him thought that maybe the familiarity in the woman’s face was just his longing; a product of a mind too lovesick to hold on to sanity. Alas, this time, too, his senses were not deceiving him.

It is your face. You're alive and well as it seems. Looking exactly the same as the day you had left.

The heartache comes back to him tenfold. Not it has ever left but the pain and anger are now suffocating. So many months have passed when he hasn't heard from you as though you've suddenly ceased to exist. No one has heard about you, no one has seen. How can a whole person just vanish? At some point, he told himself that maybe you've met your end. It was entirely possible.

But nothing has prepared him for this. To realize that he was abandoned by the one he loved.

The anguish slowly fades into numbness like a radio falls silent after piercing ears with static. Everything stands still as he recalls the day some part of him had died:

"Greatest swordsman in the world" is a quite hefty title to carry. It is also quite a hefty title to be overshadowed by. Wherever the two of you showed up, you'd always be perceived as a decoration to Mihawk rather than his partner. Like a pearly white Maltese carried by rich ladies in their purses. Having voiced your concerns, Mihawk knew that you feel in some way inferior to him. He just never thought it was that severe.

He was woken up that night, actually. The sky was still black and starry, morning long hours away. You were getting out of bed and your stirring woke him up. But he quickly went back to sleep when you whispered that you were just going to the bathroom. By all means, it was just another night. Like countless others you've spent together. Nothing unusual.

In the morning, everything was gone. All of your belongings had disappeared as though you had never been on his ship in the first place. Like a ghost he's grown to love had simply become bored of haunting him.

Only one thing, however, suggested that you were not a figment of imagination: a laconic note that vaguely explained the situation. In a few words, you told him that you're tired of being seen as an accessory to someone, a pair of gloves that will be out of season when snow thaws. Knowing that you're more than the Maltese in a purse, you ventured into the wide world to become an infamous name of your own.

Throughout many years, every day has he thought of that night and the morning that followed. What if he hadn't fallen asleep? Was he too calloused to notice how much you've been suffering? Was there something he could have done but decided not to for some reason?

The longer he thought about it, the more he came to the same, heart-wrenching conclusion - he was just abandoned in the middle of the night. Whether it was his hurt pride or respect towards your wishes, he's never gone on an escapade to find you.

As years went by and he hadn't heard from you or about you, Mihawk simply assumed that you'd died. It seemed the most probable. Part of him wanted to take the blame: if he had noticed your pain earlier, had he taken your worries seriously, you wouldn't have left and you wouldn't have died. It was his responsibility to protect you, to ensure that his beloved is safe and sound. Alas, he had failed. Quite utterly at that.

He grew bitter and vicious. What good is his swordsmanship if it failed that one time it could have mattered? What good is he if he was too blind and oblivious to ease your burden?

But all of those painful thoughts disappeared today.

Mihawk tears the newspaper and throws it away. He's grown almost used to the weight of bereavement on his shoulders but now he's absolved of it. One shouldn't grieve someone who is still alive. But contrary to his expectations, he doesn't feel better because of that. In fact, he feels a lot worse. Even if your death had been brought by your own choices, it is not your fault. Your death, however, hasn't occurred as of yet, so the time you've spent building infamy was just time you chose to leave him broken and aching.

He mourned you! Turned his grief and misery into a fury that burned entire towns. He became a shadow of the person he used to be. And for what? To learn that he was disposable to you? That his love for you was less important than your pride and ambitions?

Now that you've made it on the front page with an equally hefty title "A New Scourge", perhaps you're a danger big enough to be hunted down by none other but one of the Warlords. Was it not what you wanted? To be truly someone among pirates?

Oh, he will find you. Even if you told him not to look for you. Mihawk will find you and make you take responsibility for the damage you've done - for the man you've irreversibly changed for the worse; the heart you've forced to turn into stone.

Is it revenge or is it justice? No matter. It is right.

If the butterfly effect is true, Shanks, or rather his tendencies, would be the said butterfly that causes a tornado down the line. He's been known as a man with no commitment and certainly not a devout monogamist. It didn't matter that for a few years he's been exactly that - happily wrapped around the finger of one woman. Most of his men "respectfully" disregarded the relationship status as something temporary.

"Shanks thinks he's in love. Like a thousand times before her."

Which was probably why you've gone years being called a variation of "Shanks's girl". Whether they meant it or not, people around you made sure that you know you're disposable. A fling.

But you never were. Gods above! You never were.

Shanks thought it was quite obvious that he didn't consider you a fling. All the jokes and jabs at his previous love life were just that - meaningless jokes among friends. Even when you explicitly told him that they start to make you uncomfortable and that you want to be taken seriously, the pirate captain never quite took you as seriously as he probably should have. "They're just joking".

The jokes stopped one day and, seemingly, so did Shanks's humour altogether. All of your belongings were gone. You were gone. Nowhere to be found, disappeared like fog on a spring morning. The only thing he had from you was a note, hastily scribbled in the corner of a map lying on his desk as though you were too rushed to take your time to write a proper letter.

He's read that note every day for years. Naively hoping that one day he'll somehow be enlightened as to where you've gone. Maybe one of the letters is strangely pointing towards an island? Or maybe the fact that you've written your message in the North-East of the map was a sign? No matter how many asinine guesses he's made, all of them were wrong. You just... disappeared.

Despite asking him not to look for you, Shanks couldn't help himself. Each village he has visited, he would ask about you. Has anyone seen you? Or heard about you? A few times he thought he had seen you in the crowd, only for the woman to turn out to be a stranger vaguely fitting your description. But this investigation, too, proved to be in vain. For better or worse, it seemed as though you had never existed in the first place.

To put things simply, Shanks had given up. If no one across the seas had seen you or heard about you, it seemed the most probable that you'd met your end. Somewhere far away, among unfamiliar waters and surrounded by strangers. Were you in pain? Were you afraid? Did you wish he could have been there? Or maybe you thought-

No. He shouldn't be thinking like that.

Shanks is locked in his cabin. If his crewmates believed he had an alcohol problem after you disappeared, their captain's state right now would be "alcohol catastrophe". He hasn't been sober since he saw the newspaper.

At first, he was excited, yes! You were alive and well! But then the realization set in: you've left in the middle of the night, asked him not to look for you and never once reached out to him. Telling him that you don't love him anymore would have hurt incomparably less.

He's sitting on the floor. His clothes reek but he doesn't care about that. A shaking hand has trouble lifting another bottle of strong alcohol. The front page of the newspaper with your face on it is lying in front of him. He's just blankly staring at it, letting tears fall down his cheeks.

Among the darkness of the room, there's just him, the bottle and the dull, unbearable ache in his chest.

Shanks wishes to find you. To ask what in the Hell you were thinking. Then ask what he can do to have you back with him. But beware, as whatever you demand he will do. Even if it costs him his other hand.

That is, if his liver won't kill him first.

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hammyballeceter · 6 months

Text

Ivar The Boneless

Different

summary - You had been courting Hvitserk, when you’d caught him doing the unthinkable. That’s when Ivar stepped in.

You and Hvitserk had been together for a while, you were in a partner ship but there wasn’t an official label. You were his, and he was yours as far as you were concerned. People knew that, you weren’t quick to be married and you didn’t mind that.

You had definitely fallen for the man you’d known since you were a child having been friends with the young Prince since you were toddlers. He was kinder and more gentle then his peers, so how could you not? You knew of his reputation for bedding numerous amounts of women. He was happy if his belly was full and if there was a lady keeping his bed warm, for years that’s how it went. It hurt you to keep the way you felt under wraps. Until one day you had confessed to him, and lucky for you he had felt the same way.

Recently things hadn’t been going so well, you’d noticed his wondering eye but never thought much of it, well tried not to anyways. He loved you, you loved him. Small arguments started to break out every so often but it wasn’t anything that wasn’t sorted with a kiss. You had thought you were secure and happy. Trying to ignore the little cracks that were beginning to form between you and him.

You’d found yourself becoming friendly with his brother Ivar, finding that when you’d search for Hvitserk, he was out doing something. Ivar would usually be the one to tell you he was out, at first you were weary of the man. He was never particularly kind to you as a child, you’d originally tried to befriend the boy as he was your age, but it was Hvitserk who ultimately won your friendship and then love. But in Hvitserks recent absences you found yourself chatting to Ivar, he was kinder when he was by himself.

——————

“He’s not here y/n, he went out early again” you heard Ivar say as you pulled the door closed behind you, glad to be out the cold but annoyed at the fact it was now the 6th time Hvitserk hadn’t bothered to let you know he was out. You tried to not think anything of it, although an uneasy feeling nibbled away at your stomach. Not wanting to push the man, you always assumed he was with his other brothers. You still respected Hvitserk and his brothers, so if he told you he was out with his brothers then he was out with his brothers, you never pushed.

“Well, I’m bored so can I just stay with you for abit? It’s cold and I don’t want to walk through that snow again just yet.” Truthfully you wanted the company, you’d felt so lonely recently and Ivars company was not so bad. You shrugged your furs from your shoulders, placing them over a spare seat to dry from the snow.

“I’d like that, I’ve been alone all day. Your company seems to be the only one that doesn’t annoy me” his answer caused you to shoot a small smile at him. Taking a seat next to him on the floor, you ran your hand through the furs placed for him and now you to sit on, after shifting abit to get comfortable you finally let out a sigh that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in.

“I’m unsure as to why your allowing him to get away with this” Ivar questioned, allowing his eyes to wander over your form. He’d only ever been mean to try and fight the feelings he has for you, the day you tried to become his friend he remembers like it was yesterday, and he curses himself for ever being so awful to you. You could of been the one thing in his life he could hold onto. But he was afraid, afraid incase you’d reject him or make fun of him like so many others seemed to do. But you never did, and you never would.

Hvitserk was usually his favourite out of his brothers, but the way his older sibling had been making you feel recently bothered him. It wasn’t fair on someone who was so pure and genuine. Although he wanted the unwavering love you had for Hvitserk to be for him. He also, for once in his life, was putting your feelings before his own. He wanted to hold you, make that drained unsure look on your face disappear. He could tell that everything that was going on at the moment was bothering you more then you let on, but you were to polite to do anything about it, to worried to make someone upset. But you also didn’t want that nagging feeling to be true, to address it would mean you were either extremely wrong and possibly hurt Hvitserk or it was true and your heart would surely shatter.

“Ivar, I’m worried. I’m scared. Recently he’s had wondering eyes, for years he hadn’t even looked in the direction of another woman unless it was to speak to them. We’d always tell each other where we are going but mostly we wouldn’t have to because we’d already be together. We haven’t shared a bed in a while, and when he comes back from where ever he’s been going he’s been off with me, like he’s pretending. What am I doing wrong Ivar? I’ve known him since I was a child.” You felt awful for revealing everything to Ivar knowing the young man already had enough going on. Tears streamed your face, it was the first time you’d allowed yourself to cry. It was a foolish thing to do especially in front of a man such as Ivar. You didn’t want to seem weak.

Instead of speaking Ivar placed a gentle arm over your shoulder, cradling you as you cried. His heart-ached for you. But his anger, oh how his anger was boiling over toward his brother.

You both heard the door open, the familiar voices of Ubbe and Bjørn filled the room but Hvitserks was absent. This only caused more worry for you. They stepped into the room you and Ivar were sat in, noticing your obvious distress.

“Ubbe, Bjørn. Was Hvitserk with you today. Or any day recently for that matter?” Your heart speed up, if there answer was anything other then yes, you were ready to start your own war.

“Sorry y/n, me and Bjørn have been fishing recently. But Hvitserk hasn’t been joining us.” Ubbe had a sympathetic tone to his voice, but no amount of sympathy would stop the blood that was now pumping through your veins as you stood. Any upset you had felt was now turned to adrenaline and anger. It was the only thing that would give you the courage to walk over to Hvitserks home and confront him. You hadn’t intended to leave so abruptly hoping the brothers would understand your predicament.

Ivar watched the door slam behind you, his instant reaction was to pull himself up and grab his crutch and strapping his leg braces up as quickly as possible. He wouldn’t allow you to face this on your own if things went south. Despite the cold he set out after you.

You reached Hvitserks door, finally realising where you were. You hesitated, noticing the glow of candles. He was in. Your heart dropped, unsure of what you were going to walk in on. The gnawing feeling in your stomach now a full raging beast. That’s when you heard the soft dragging of feet behind you, you knew exactly who it was. Ivar.

“I’m here for you. y/n. You don’t have to face this alone.” You’d never been more glad to see his face, he brought a tiny bit of comfort. Which you hadn’t of expected. You nodded at him. Thankful for his presence.

With a shaky hesitant hand you pushed the door open, not bothering to knock. Your manners were put on hold for now. It was dark the flickering candles being the only source of light. But he was home, and your fears became reality. You saw her and him, on the bed you used to sleep in with him, where you and Hvitserk spend many a night making love or cuddling. And there he was now but with another woman. They hadn’t noticed you at first but you saw her naked back and heard his grunts.

Your gentle side had been tossed out the room as you pushed the rest of the front door so hard it caused it to crash into the wall beside it, whilst also nearly taking the large piece of wood off of its hinges. This caused the woman to jump from riding your partner, Hvitserk shooting up from his previous position to see the you. Your head whirled with 100 million things to scream at him, yet you didn’t say anything, you stood in the door way, chest heaving. Making sure to make eye contact with Hvitserk so he could see the fury that bubbled behind them.

With that you stormed off. You needed to be alone.

Ivar allowed you to go, understanding that you were angry and needed time alone. But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t give his brother what for. Ivar was enraged. And Hvitserk would soon know all about it.

“YOU, OUT!” Ivar snarled at the naked woman, as she hurriedly gathered her clothes. “if y/ns ever in the same vicinity as you. You better not show your face. Infact do yourself a favor and never come back” he spat.

Turning his attention to his brother, his eyes narrowed at him. Hvitserk didn’t know where to look, he wanted to find you. But no amount of sorry would ever heal the heart he’d just broken. Instead he had to deal with Ivar.

“You disgust me brother. I’ve never known you to do such vile things” Ivar dragged himself further into the house.

“You are no man, you have a woman’s love and this is how you treat it. especially the love of a woman such as y/n” his voice thick with venom towards his brother. “I hope the gods cruse you and that sleaze” Ivar took his arm and swiped everything off of the table allowing it to break, crash and spill. “You are lucky she will not allow me to hurt you, her kindness still prevails even when she should nail your balls to your eyes!”

three months later———

The heartbreak was soul shattering, it took you nearly a month and half to even consider going out side. Yet Ivar visited you most days, even if you wanted your own space Ivar would sit quietly. Allowing you to know his presence was there if needed. Which you were glad for, he held you when you cried, listened when you needed to talk, and chatted when you needed a distraction. You two became close, becoming the best friends you were meant to be.

Hvitserk had tried multiple times to come see you but Ivar wouldn’t allow it. You needed to heal and he would help you do that. Hvitserk left many a gift at your door, it confused Ivar as to why it was now he was spoiling you, trying to give you the attention that you needed for the last part of your and his relationship now. He was two late. You wouldn’t ever go back to a cheat, Ivar helped you get to that frame of mind, as before you would of crumbled craving to feel the man you loved.

Ivar helped remind you that you were beautiful, although to Ivar you were more then beautiful, you were truly breathtaking. Learning some self love was important right now.

You and Ivar had decided to take a walk, nothing major. There was a feast going on in the great hall tonight so Ivar assured you that there wouldn’t be anyone around. So you wrapped yourselves up in furs and your cloaks and headed out.

It was quiet at first, you weren’t going far due to Ivar using his crutches but it was nice to be outside regardless. It was night and the stars had come out in full force, like the gods wanted to paint the sky especially for you and Ivar.

“Oh how wonderful, Ivar look at the sky! The gods has truly blessed us tonight!” You giggled, clasping your hands together softly. It was a joyous sound and one Ivar had missed dearly. You both took a seat on one of the tables that stood in the middle of Kattegat, and Ivar was finally able to look at the sky. He never cared much for such things but today was different if you wanted him to look at the stars then that is what he’d do, and you were correct, the sky was littered with stars and it was truly breathtaking.

“I need closure” you blurted out randomly, Ivar brought down his head to look at you.

“I need closure so I can move on. I want to know why. It’s been months since I’ve seen his face. And I thank you for helping me take the time to heal. But I want to start moving on. I want to be able to love someone else who’ll love me just as much.” Your looked at Ivar to gage a reaction, he smiled softly at you. His gaze relaxing when he met your eyes.

You and Ivar had decided that he would go to the great hall and get his brother. Rather then you having to walk into a place that would cause you a great distress, at least if you were outside and couldn’t handle it you could just walk away. You sat whislt Ivar went to find Hvitserk.

After about 15 minutes you saw the two men walking toward you, Hvitserk caught your eyes first. You’d expect to want to run away but you didn’t, you were quite happy just sitting there looking at the stars in the quiet. Although a little nervous, seeing Ivar behind him calmed your nerves tenfold.

Hvitserk remained stood whilst Ivar pulled himself up to be sat beside you, taking his fur off and wrapping around your shoulders although you already have your own on, you appreciated the kind gesture. Jealousy was written allover Hvitserks face, as he scowled at his brother.

“Well say something brother” Ivar bit, he rolled his eyes at the other man who remained silent, yet to even mutter a word.

“Ivar, it’s okay. I’ll speak.” You gently placed your hand on Ivars wrist giving it a squeeze. Hvisterk wanted nothing more then for his little brother to go away, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He hadn’t even been able to see you for three months. His brother forbid it. He’d been nothing but spiteful towards him, which he deserved.

Hvitserk looked at you, hopeful to still see some form of loving gaze toward him but there was none. And his heart sunk.

“Hvitserk, it’s been three long months since you betrayed me and betrayed our love. You shattered my heart into a million pieces. I do not understand if you were so unhappy with being my partner then why not just end things. I now have new worries & insecurities due to your actions, I doubt that I will ever be good enough for anyone anymore. If it hadn’t of been for your brother I don’t know where I’d be now. Probably still fawning after you making a fool out of myself. But, I shall not. You will forever hold a piece of my heart, that I will say. I loved you Hvitserk and a part of me always will. I’m unsure as to if you ever loved me as I could not possibly do the things that you have done to me. But all I ask is why?” Your voice remained a level tone. No hate was spat at the man. You couldn’t bring yourself to be so unkind.

Ivar was beyond proud of you, although he was full of anger toward his brother you remained calm, having seen how you screamed into your furs, how you threw things and how you cried behind the closed door of your hut when it first happened, you had come so far. He could only wish to ever deal with things the way you had just done.

Hvitserk sucked in a breath, almost to stop his voice from wobbling. He had lost you, through his own foolish, greedy actions.

“Y/n my lov-“ he started but you cut him off, “you’ve no right to call me that anymore.” His eyes watered, but he held his composure the best he could infront of you and his brother.

“Y/n, I love you. My gods i love you. But I had been foolish. I had been tempted by a woman and slipped into my old ways, she persisted and I gave in. I have no excuse for doing what I did, and I shan’t makeup one. You deserve better then that. These past three months have been torment. I just wanted to hold you feel your warm flesh against mine again. I had known you were too good for me. I fear you hate me now. I can’t live without you at least speaking to me.” He spoke carefully, his voice timid as if he was getting told off. Ivar scoffed and you placed your hand once again on his arm to stop him.

“I don’t hate you, I don’t hate anyone. As I had said a piece of me will always hold onto you, and it will pain me. But I shall learn to live with it. I will speak to you if the situation permits it but I shan’t make an effort. I cannot hide away anymore. I am friends with Ivar and that won’t stop. Whether you like it or not. I hope you live a happy life. But please promise me, don’t hurt another woman like this. Make sure you love her and you love her hard. Never make her feel the way you have made me feel. Goodbye Hvitserk.” With that you hopped off of the table, and bowed your head. He was to you now a prince of Kattegat and you would respect him as such. But he wasn’t your Hvisterk anymore and you had started to finally come to terms with it.

Ivar followed you back to your hut, you were still so unbelievably grateful for him. So once you got back although late, you set about making the man a warm pie as to thank him for tonight. Ivar had perched himself on your bed as your hut was small and you could see the kitchen from where he was easily enough. He watched you carefully as you made the food and chatted away to him, his heart fluttered at you. He had fallen so unbelievably in love with you, but knew to keep it to him self whislt you went through what your going through, he knew deep down that you were meant to be his. He’d never felt this way about anyone. Your the only person that he would protect wholeheartedly, even against his own brother.

The small space was filled with the warm sent of your baked good, it was warm and cozy due to the fire burning away in the centre. Ivar could get used to this. He’d never known the true feeling of home, always feeling out of sorts around his brothers. But here, he was comfortable. He was warm and he could look at you all he wanted. He’d never understand why Hvitserk did what he did, and in someways he was glad.

He could finally get you to himself.

You grabbed two spoons once the pie had cooled off abit, bringing it to where Ivar sat wrapped in your bed furs. Intending it to be a nice late night treat and a thanks to Ivar.

“It smells delicious” Ivar smiled at you taking the warm pie into his hands so you could slip in next to him. “Why don’t we just use the same spoon, saves on dishes” he laughed, “Ivar I don’t mind washing it it’s just a spoon-“

“No if we share we will do it properly” he said as he scooped up some sweet filling and pastry, holding it up for you to take the first bite. A feeling was brewing as you looked at Ivar, but it was a different feeling, one you hadn’t experienced before. A warm feeling, no rampid butterfly’s. A safe, warm, glowing feeling toward Ivar. You’d soon find out. That it was love starting to form for the man, true love.

#ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ivar lothbrok #vikings imagine #vikings #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk imagine

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diorkyeom · 6 months

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THE @diorkyeom / @fairyhaos AO3 FIC REC LIST: PART 2

masterlist. part one. part two. part three.

part two of all the ao3 fics that i've read for seventeen which i've loved, kudosed, and proceeded to download so i'll always have with me. part one was kinda long so i thought it would be better if i just made a 2nd post instead of adding on to it ^^

(list is in order of authors!)

Of Milkshakes, Onesies and Miniature Roses - coupdetart

soonhoon, uni au, oneshot

soonyoung likes small and cute things. jihoon is small and cute. and that's it, that's the entirety of this adorable fic. pls this fic had me grinning so hard omg everything is literally soooo adorable and jihoon is so tsundere but you can already tell that he's so fond of soonyoung and his antics and they're just very very sweet

Know Ya Boo - jeosheo

meanie, non-idols, fluff, getting together, oneshot

jeosheo and lunahui are two of theeeee best meanie writers that ive like. ever seen. this fic made me laugh and it made me internally cry and it's soooo so lovely and funny and domestic and honest to god. the entire attraction of this ship is the way they realise their feelings and this fic does it soo well

Through The Wall - kaiteki

soonhoon, apartment neighbors, chaptered (but short)

hnnnngggh never ever ever EVER gonna get tired of people characterising soonhoon's relationship not as an antagonistic, forever-enemies one but as one of mutual respect and muted adoration. pls a neighbours to lovers thats actually simply Adorable is hard to come by but this is sooo good

right-handed normativity - kyeomizt

meanie, canon au, oneshot

dudeeeee pls it's just sooo soft and domestic and funny and so so so them. the way they act like a couple almost instinctively, like it's coded into their dna to just love each other like that???? peak meanie things actually.

hell yeah, hyung! - orphan_account

jeongcheol, canon au, coming out, oneshot

idk jeongcheol has never been My Thing but the way that jeonghan is characterised? with his clear head and clear thoughts and you can clearly see his entire thought process as he goes through things... wow. it's really good. i also love how much time he takes to think things through and really find out what he's feeling. vv nice fic tbh, that's all :]

Rollercoaster - orphan_account

soonhoon, non-idols au, fake dating, oneshot

read the summary, screamed internally. then began reading the fic and screamed internally even more. pls the characterisation???? the pining???? the suppressed feelings and fAKE DATING?????? absolute gold i swear pls pls read this it's so cute

Found In Translation - naegahosh

verkwan, fluff, light angst, twoshot

holy shiiiiittttttt the seungkwan characterisation is ON POINT and i LOVE when people manage to get his melodrama and also his softness down and this fic has it SO GOOD. the way hansol is just so so so gentle and caring with seungkwan and it's so OBVIOUS that he's already so in love with him from the start :(((

can't sleep (without your smile) - pocketpastel

seoksoo + verkwan, snow white au, sleeping beauty au, chaptered

i love cute little fairytale-twist aus!!!! ive (kinda) written one of my own too hehe and it's always just soooo fun to do. and read as well! i love the seoksoo dynamic and also verkwan with their little one-sided rivals to lovers??? gorgeous. very very sweet.

my love only amounts to this - shiningshua

seoksoo, canon au, soulmates, oneshot

i think i said this before but i rarely read seoksoo bc honestly. their dynamic and characterisation is something that is rlly hard to get right but this is sooo soft. joshua loving it when seokmin calls him "shua hyung"? their softness? the way they were in love with each other the entire time? the epitome of the seoksoo dynamic actually.

Hit Different - thanku4urlove

verkwan, est. relationship, canon au, oneshot

bro. bro buff vernon is soooo brainrot worthy actually and honestly i just feel so blessed that there's an ENTIRE FIC centered around it. with verkwan too like????? best thing in the entire world. started giggling internally at the ending like OH MYGODHFUDHS it's soooo heart-flutteringly good.

wonwoo & his very non-imaginary boyfriend - wonderscape

meanie, established relationship, oneshot

honestly. peak meanie behaviour is wonwoo having a hot-as-fuck boyfriend and no one believing that they're actually dating until they see mingyu in person. the 96 liner dynamic is so silly and so funny to me because they're all just so annoying and goofy in their own way and i love the way it's portrayed in this fic too

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corrupted-nightshade · 7 days

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List of things that point towards Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru being kissers of boys with connections to eachother

(If they did kiss though is another story)

Note: the list will be divided into different sections with space in between. So don't go speed scrolling through if you don't want spoilers. :"3

Some of these are less serious, but are still included because all the more content for these two sillies.

--- Last updated: April 26th, 2024 Note: Make sure to check the original post if viewing a reblog version in case Tumblr does not update things under the "read more" like it used to be able to.

Various

572. This number is used frequently as a ship number for the two as "GoGe" the ship name can also be produced as "GoNatsu". Go means 5 and the rest sound similar to 72. These numbers ironically show up accross the series a few times and also in official merch. (Some examples being a clock in season 2 episode 1 stopped at 5 hours 7 minutes 20 seconds or a Gojo teddy bear priced at ¥57,200)

JJK official fanbook

"Q: Please tell us his first impression when he first met Geto. A: Bangs."

"Q: He seems to be aware that he is handsome, but doesn't he want a lover? A: I can't imagine Gojo being faithful to a particular woman."

"Q: Is there anything you are particular about Geto's character design? A: Bangs"

One of Gojo's songs & one of Geto's songs given to them. "Shame on you" by "Avicii" (a break up song) for Gojo and "Come back Home" by "Two door cinema club" for Geto. Stated in volume 3 chapter 24.

The sheer amount of times Geto shows up in MMVs for Gojo and how they display the impact Geto had on Gojo (For example, the latest MMV for volume 26's release)

Their birthday's solar terms tying in with parts. (Geto being "Risshun" beginning of spring & Gojo being "Taisetsu" heavy snow.)

Rings for them that were released on August 8th, which is "Pairing day" in Japan

Jujutsu Kaisen 0

Geto's kesa is specifically a Gojo kesa

Gojo stating in 0 that

"I've always believed... ...Love manifests the most distorted curses." / "This is my personal theory, but there's no curse more twisted than love."

Even after 10 years, Gojo recognized Geto's smell. (The mall scene after Yuta & Toge fought the curse)

Geto renaming someone to "Sato" because

"That's what I've decided, so Sato is better."

This sunset scene

Gojo's veil is black & Geto's veil is white. Gojo's veil causes darkness, Geto's does not. [Peep who reminded me]

The song "This is pure love" not only plays over Yuta & Rika vs Geto, but also plays over Geto & Gojo's conversation

The way that Geto looks at Gojo & says his name, and how Gojo looks at Geto & says his name

Geto's blushing face at Gojo that we were robbed of in the anime

Some of the lines from the JJK 0 light novel lines

"Yet Gojo's bandage-covered eyes kept watching, kept following the shape of Geto's soul."

"But to Gojo Satoru, he was —— '————, ————' '...ha.' When he heard the words Gojo blurted out, Geto couldn't help but laugh. Such embarrassing [...] words. Even why they were students, those words had never been said before. 'You should've at least cursed me a little before the end.' December 24, 2017. The curse called Geto had been well and truly exorcised."

Season 1

JJK Juju stroll

"Q: What kind of person is your type?" Gojo: "[...]The one who seemed nice. With the notable bangs."

yes, i know who he stated but the way he answered was so half arsed as he struggled to come up with an answer as an example of his type. 💀

Season 2

Again, the way they look at each other and say each other's names (There's another picture with Gojo looking at Geto, but I'm missing it right now)

THE HECKIN GOJO & GETO VALENTINES CAKE??

They literally even have a themed honeymoon place???

Geto makes sure Gojo has his favorite soda. :3

Part 1 / volume 8 - 9

The intro for season 2 part 1

"Even after I got to know the smell of you, different from mine"

"In such a color as if it were a silent love"

"I've got a curse word for you stuck in the back of my throat"

The outro for season 2 part 1:

"Even trivial conversations are fine Show me your blushing face once more"

"It only exists here I want to touch you"

The fish in the outro

The flowers in the intro & outro. [Peep who reminded me]

The purple ones (Located on table in the part where older Gojo is sitting in a chair by a window) are possibly Primula/Primrose flowers. They can represent young love, beauty, desire, desperate, and can be a symbol of spring and renewal/new beginnings. etc.

The yellow ones (Located in the part where Gojo & Geto are sitting together with their hands & cans of soda surrounded by the flowers) are possibly osmanthus flowers. They can represent love, passion, happiness, beauty, etc.

[See here , here, here , here , here , here ]

Geto not answering Tsukumo Yuki's question of what kind of woman is his type more than once

When Geto is asked by Haibara if he would like a sweet or savory souvenir, Geto says

"Satoru will probably have some too, so maybe something sweet."

Part 2 / volume 11

This whole image (Geto in the glasses on the left, and Kenjaku's silhouette on Gojo's face on the right)

Season 2 part 2's "Specialz" intro hidden meaning

Despite the following about Geto's state, Geto's body still instinctively reacted to stop Kenjaku from hurting Gojo.

"Q: Fake Geto's arm was moving during the Shibuya Incident, but how much of Geto's consciousness remains in the body? A: Not much. He was moving like how a dragonfly whose neck was torn off can move."

Fun fact: Some owls pair/bond for life (Whether the owl is supposed to be Geto's because Kenjaku is using Geto at the time or it's not Geto's animal because that is Kenjaku is up to you)

Volume 26

The Camilla flowers with snow. Not only do they represent Gojo well with their meaning, including one meaning being unchanging/strong love alongside modest love / beauty for pink, but flowers are given to different dates. The birth flower of February is this flower, said to bloom on the 3rd of this month. Aka Geto's birthday.

Chapter 236

Gojo actively chose to fight on December 24th (a day considered romantic for Japan) which is now the day both Geto and him have died on. Even Kenjaku acknowledges the days significance with

"Ha ha! How romantic. Isn't it gross to make plans with each other on Christmas eve?"

These lines

Both Gojo & Geto's volumes' numbers can have bad meanings in Japan. 4 can mean death & 9 can mean to suffer/agony. (I put this under volume 26's section because of the spoiler)

---

There's likely more, but this is what we could think of right now. XD If you have anything you want to add on, feel free to send it my way because the more help the better & easier this is. (^w^ ) Same for any corrections to the list (as it's just me writing up this post and I may make slip ups)

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo #gojo satoru #geto #geto suguru #goge #satosugu #corrupted nightshade's talks

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a-dam-leo-valdez-lover · 3 months

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Reunion

Leo Valdez x Fem reader

This takes place after the events of the second great prophecy, Y/N was on the Argo II with the 7 and is a daughter of Apollo but really could be anyone. Y/N is mourning the loss of her best friend and crush Leo and when everyone gathers for the memorial of his death things change. Don’t judge me too hard its been a few years since I wrote anything and had to start my blog fresh. Not entirely following cannon and while calypso is mention she isn’t actually a part of the story.

It took 3 days of searching before Chiron decided they were never going to find Leo’s body, to declare him dead. It took 2 weeks for Frank and Hazel to go back to Camp Jupiter after Leo’s funeral, Jason followed them a few days later promising he’d iris message Piper everyday. After a month Annabeth and Percy needed to go back to school, it turns out going on a quest really messed up a demigod's grades and makes getting into New Rome university way harder. A week after Percy and Annabeth left camp, Piper went out to visit her dad and for the first time since the quest began, Y/n found herself completely alone.

At first she struggled to find a way to spend her days. Unlike her siblings she lacked any all all skills in archery and Y/ns musical abilities left much to be desired. It was winter at camp so there wasn’t as much going on, most days she spent alone. The snow covered camp was beautiful, quieter than normal it seemed, except for the occasional bit of laughter from the other year round campers. She tried to iris message the others occasionally, shed promised Piper that she would call everyday, but it was never enough. She spent time with will, practicing in the infirmary and getting to know Nico since they were basically joint at the hip these days. It was good to see them happy, but it made her feel more alone. Sure her and Leo were never together, but he was her world, her partner in crime. She never got to tell him she loved him.

Over time though, it became easier. It turns out crushes feel less strong when the one you like is gone, and while Y/n may suck at archery and music it turns out she had a real knack for pegasus training. Plus with all the time in the world to practice she was pretty good with a sword too. Eventually she spent less time moping and being lonely and more time focused on build relationships with her sibilings, especially Will. The two of them would talk for hours on and end and his southern accent, while not quiet like Leo’s was comforting on the night where she had nightmares that kept her up. By default she became close with Nico too, sure they’d spoken on occasion before the quest and became a bit closer while trapped together on a ship for a few weeks, but this was new. He was quiet and didn’t ask too may questions, but he understood her grief better than anybody else.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Nico knew she wasn’t he only one still grieving Leo. He’d spoken to Percy and Hazel a few times and heard through the grape vine how Frank, Annabeth, Jason, and Piper were doing. He could see the sadness that lingered in their eyes, the lack of sleep was obvious, and he knew he had to do something. So it took it upon himself to plan a memorial for Leo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6 months after Leo’s death, everyone came back for the memorial. It was weird, awkward almost to all be together again. On one hand they all knew each other like the back of their hand, but at the same time things had changed, they weren’t in any real danger for once and its almost like they didn’t know how to interact without a monster lurking or the impending end of the world to lead the conversation. Thank gods for Piper, she always knew how to get everyone talking.

"Remember the time Leo pranked Chiron by programming his wheelchair to go backwards only? Or that time he made that robot spider to scare the Athena cabin during capture the flag," she reminisced, a bittersweet smile on her face.

Percy chuckled, "I swore Annabeth was going to kill him for that, i swear she screamed so loud my mom could hear it."

”Rude,” Annabeth tried to be mad but even she couldn’t hide the smile on her face, “but yeah, I was planning my revenge”

She paused, everybody knew what she wanted to say, he died before she got the chance. The room was heavy for a moment before y/n changed the subject.

”You know what I was thinking about the other day, the time he 'accidentally' set the strawberry fields on fire while upgrading Festus's flame system.”

It worked like a charm. The room echoed with laughter and shared stories about the metal dragon and the boy who built it. Y/N listened as everyone talked, but her attention began to drift as she gazed into the sky, captivated by a mysterious glimmer.

Annabeth noticed her distraction, especially because the conversation had shifted a while ago, and asked, "Y/N, do you even know what we're talking about?"

"Festus," Y/N replied absentmindedly, her eyes still lingering on the shiny object.

Annabeth sighed, "No, we're discussing college plans, Y/N have you even heard a word we said?."

Before Annabeth could get into a lecture about how important having a plan is, Y/N's eyes widened.

"It's Festus," She whispered, so quiet almost anybody could miss it She rose quickly from her seat staring at the shiny object in the sky, her heart pounding with a mix of hope and disbelief. The group followed her gaze, their expressions changing from confusion to surprise. A metallic dragon, catching the sunlight, soared across the sky. The sight left them momentarily speechless. Then, realization dawned, and their faces mirrored Y/N's astonishment.

She ran out as fast as she could to the beach where the dragon was landing, when she saw him. Leo Valdez, presumed dead, had returned in the most Leo way possible. The daylight seemed to cast a spotlight on him as he stood there with a stupid smirk on his face. The poor boy had hardly a moment to prepare himself before Y/N jumped into his arms wrapping him a hug.

"What are you—how, I mean..." Y/N stuttered, her voice a mix of confusion and elation.

Leo, with his trademark smirk, simply said, "Surprise."

"Surprise? Surprise? What the heck, Leo!" Y/N's confusion turned into a whirlwind of emotions. "You died. I watched you die. We never found your body, but you were gone. I spoke at your funeral, and now you're back, and all you have to say is 'surprise'? Gods, what is—"

Leo's laughter cut through her words. "Hey, I had to make a grand entrance, right? Can't just show up without a little flair."

Y/N's frustration shifted to a mixture of relief and exasperation. "Flair? Leo, you had us all convinced you were gone. What happened? How are you here?"

Leo scratched his head, a habit that hadn't changed. "Long story short, Festus and I took a detour in the labyrinth. Ended up in Ogygia. You know, Calypso's island? Time flows differently there, and by the time we found a way out, well, time had moved a bit faster here."

"Ogygia? Calypso? Time travel?" Y/N's head spun with the unexpected twists.

"Yeah, yeah. I've got a lot to catch you up on," Leo grinned. "But one thing's for sure, I'm back, and we've got some serious catching up to do."

Y/N's initial shock transformed into a grin. "You have no idea how much we've missed you, Leo Valdez."

As they walked back to camp together, the reunion echoed with laughter, questions, and the comforting feeling of having a friend thought to be lost returned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night as the campfire crackled, casting a warm glow on the faces of the reunited demigods the Apollo cabin led the campers in a a few songs and Leo entertained the crowd with his tales of defying death. The atmosphere was one of joy and celebration, as the group sat together, reveling in the miraculous return of their comrade.

As the night unfolded, the campfire stories wove a tapestry of memories, both old and new. Y/N, caught up in the camaraderie, joined in the laughter and shared anecdotes. However, amidst the festivities, a moment of quiet reflection struck her. As she looked at the boy in front of her smiling and laughing her heart suddenly felt like it was being pulled in a few directions. He was really back. Maybe it was the days excitement or too much smoke inhalation or a combination of the two, but Y/N couldn’t breathe.

Pulling away from the group, Y/N wandered to the edge of the camp, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. The gravity of Leo's return, the mourning that had transpired, and the overwhelming joy of having him back weighed on her. It was all too much. Not to mention him being alive meant she’d have to deal with the whole unrequited crush thing. Not that she could even think about it right then, because Leo, sensing her retreat, followed her to the quiet corner.

"Hey, Y/N, everything okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

She hesitated, then sighed. "It's just... Leo, I thought you were gone. We all did. Losing you was... I can't put it into words. And now you're back, and it's so much to process."

Leo nodded understandingly, pulling her into a comforting hug. "I get it, Y/N. It's a lot. But I could never leave you behind, you know? We're in this together."

His words resonated with Y/N, and as Leo held her, she felt a mix of emotions pouring out. The weight of grief mingled with the joy of reunion overwhelmed her, and tears flowed freely. Leo just held her, it was almost enough to make her feel better on the spot. As the two stood apart the rest of their friends watched them whispering to one another.

”So when are the two of them going to admit they’re in love” Frank joked.

”Y/n talking about her feelings? It’s never going to happen” Jason laughed receiving a slap in the arm from Piper.

”I wouldn't say never,” Nico said , “she thought she missed her chance once she won’t let it happened again”

”Well lets just hope its soon, because I cannot hear about how ‘y/n does like me like that’ from Leo again when its so obvious to everyone else she does' Piper laughed looking at her two friends.

This is the first thing I’ve written in a long time but hopefully it’ll get better. Requests are open and please let me know if you want a sequel to this or anything else. Also lmk if you want to be tagged in the next one!

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animealways · 1 year

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Surprise, i'm married bitch!

Natasha x fem!stark!reader/ contains making out, semi-public sex, strap on, marking, spanking, daddy kink, paparazzi (you set the internet on blaze by not only revealing you're married but to none other then black widow herself.)

Y/n stark potential suitor

A new stark family member?

Shadowcap is real?

All titles of gossip blogs articles about your love life. You couldn't help but chuckle at the last one. Its your and steve superhero ship name.

Captain america + iron shadow

"Oh this is some top noch comedy" you said to yourself. "What is 'top noch comedy'?" You lifted your phone showing the shadowcap article to nat and how it mentioned all the times you went shopping with steve to find the perfect decorations for the wedding and more. She shook her head at the article with a amused smile. "What people won't do just for some clicks. What are you doing?"

She raised a eyebrow at your smile. Natasha has learned thanks to you there are more then one way to smile and that includes mischievous smile. One you're wearing right now. "Ohhh nothing just giving them some light criticism."

Ohh sooooo~ close 🙃

You got the wrong avenger tho-

you commented and nat rolled her eyes at you. You always loved messing with the media. They always were a pain in the ass for as long as you can remember. Not surprising since your father is tony stark after all. He is often in the news either because of drama he causes or because of a new invention and that was BEFORE he became iron man. Oh yeah your step-mom is pepper the fucking co-ceo of the biggest company on earth that you run together. Literally anything happens that even semi involves your family aaaaand your face ends up on the fucking news.

The sec you post the comment you see fans going 'omg what!!!????' 'Nooooo my ship😭' 'dcvsxvjgxvbcf7gkg' 'wowowowow WHAT WHO IS IT THEN?!?!"

You laughed at the way your fans freaked out. "You know you should probably let everyone know were a thing." You looked up at your wife having your head against her thigh.

"Anything particulaire in mind?" "No you're better at that sort of thing, remember your last interview?"

You chuckled remembering jimmy fallon face when you told him about a particulier snowboarding vacation with your dad. When neither you or your dad realise the hill you were on was actually the end of a small cliff causing both of you to fall into a thick layer of snow. The only reason you didn't tell this to pepper was because your dad bought you a massive chocolate cake to shut you up. Oh man was she angryyyyy when she found out.

"I will never forget that scolding." You laughed while natasha shook her head but didn't bother hiding her smile. That damn near divine smile.

"Btw there is this gala i got invited to." You mentioned randomly remembering.

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

You put the finale touch to your eyelashes and felt ready to go. You wore a velvet red button up collar shirt with 3 upper buttons lose to show off your chest with the nanotech container on it. The rest of your suit was black and nothing of it really stood out exactly what you wanted.

It would bring more attention not only to the nanotech container on your chest but also your jewelry. Specificly the necklace with your wedding ring around it. For the longest time you and natasha would hide your relationship but now that you're married her both of you wanted let the world know who the 2 of you belonged to.

You put the edith sunglasses on before looking to your left admiring natasha beauty. You recognised the dress she wore, the same one she wore as 'natalie rushman'.

You walked behind her, hugging her from behind and putting your chin on her shoulder.

"Well if this doesn't remind you of something?" Natasha smirked remembers the first time she met you. "Yeah, i remember how you couldn't take your eyes off of me." She teased, you merrily shrugged. "What can i say? I have good taste. Common, lets go." She took her you hand once done with make-up.

You drove to the gala with happy in a another car behind you for safety measures. It didn't matter both of you we're avengers. You knew better then go to such a big event without any back up. Too many goddamn memories of parties going wrong.

As you arrived to the event. You ran around the car opening the door and unbuckled the seat belt for natasha. She took your arm and walked out together with your bodyguards right behind the 2 of you.

Paparazzi were, well they were annoying as always. They're shouting for you to either turn their way or about your life. You swear on your mother's grave the paparazzi brought a bonus level of anger out of you. Maybe its the belief your mother taught you that respect should be earn, not given. Maybe its that you had to deal with them your entire life or maybe its because they're basicly paid stalkers that made your blood boil either way to you a street fighter deseveres more respect then the paparazzi, atleast that took more then just being a invasive asshole to do it right.

But atleast you had natasha to keep you company. ''You know...'' you turned your attention to the red head trying you best to hear her over all the shouting. ''I have seen childeren that are quieter then them.'' you chuckled at the commentary.

''You think this is bad? You should be glad you didn't have to deal with them in the early 2000's they were 500 times worse.''

''You can't be serious.''

''I am. 1 of them actually got so close to me they pushed me and caused me to fall face first into the pavement.''

''Really, wow i can't imagine tony reaction.''

You smiled remembering how happy carried you to the car while your dad cussed everyone out. ''Ahhh yeah, good memories. I remember my dad calling them 'motherfucking disrespectful uncultered dipshits'.'' natasha laughed at the mental image.

''Hey, atleast he taught me how to protect the important things in life. Isn't that right misses stark?'' You looked lovingly at your wife.

Your wife

Misses stark

Man, you can't get enough off of those words. Natasha didn't say anything but the look she gave you said more then enough. Its funny really, this is the same woman that use to have a probleem with you hugging her once a day but now she had her last name changed for you. You took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

right under the wedding ring

As soon as you realised what you just did you immediately covered your wifes ears. Good thing too cause less then a second later you physically cringed at the shouting from the crowd.

how long have you been married!?

did you take each others last name?!

stark/black widow are offically off the marked!?

That last one caused both you and tash to glare at the crowd. Sure your relationship was a massive secret for the longest time but who would want to inmagine their partner getting flirted with?

''Lets go inside before we getting hearing damage or start a fight.''

''You took the words right out of my mouth.''

You followed natasha as the noise died down. Luckily for the both of you the night went fairly well. You went around and introduce natasha as your wife. People we're naturally curious about your relationship how long you have been together, who asked who, who proposed normale things you gladly answer. Then were the questions that would make your eyes tired from barrel rolling so much.

''So who is the man in the relationship?''

''Dude, thats like asking wich chop stick is the fork.''

Natasha giggled at the surprisingly accurate comparison. The other people at the table also had a good chuckled out of it. ''Ahh, s-sorry didn't mean to come over insensitive. I just don't know alot about these things.''

''Its fine but call me or my wife a dyke and i will start a fight.'' you joked causing the man to let out a nervous chuckle knowing you're capable of it and would gladly do it. After all its not every day you meet a woman that kicked a grown ass man at 18 years old but you did after the pap tried to take a pic under your skirt. You swear that the news didn't let go of it for a month long.

while natasha drank her vodka you stood right behind her pressing your crotch. She pressed back feeling the bulge in your pants while smirking.

''ты хочешь трахаться в ванной, детка?''

''you want to fuck in the bathroom baby?''

You whisperd softly in her ear while having tight grip on her hips. You had learned russian in the periode where the avengers broke.

Fuck are you happy she's back in your arms

''let me enjoy my drink first''

You smirked at her responds. You knew the alcohol would make her a shameless, horny mess. You didn't miss the way people looked at your wife though. You couldn't blame them natasha beauty was something to die for but there was no way you were walking out of this place without making clear who belonged to who. She continued to have more drinks as you whispered nothing but sweet compliments and in return she kissed you teasing about the people who must be watching the 2 of you being in love.

''good, the more people watch faster the news travels.''

Tash turned around wrapping her arms around your neck and kissed you. You hummed being able to taste all the different drinks she had from vodka to tequila. You pulled away and dragged her to the nearest bathroom. The second the door was closed she practically pounced you. Your hands immediately went to her ass giving it a tight squeeze. Her legs wrapped around you hips and started to grind against the bulge. You put her on the sink and pushed her dress up revealing the black lingerie with a wet spot in the middle.

You rubbed her tight, not quite touching her where she needs it.

''y/n i ne-''

You cut her by slapping her pussy making her jump and grabbed her by the throat. ''whats my name?'' You growled into ear. She pushed her breast forward close enough for them you the feel them against your own.

''i'm sorry daddy''

''better, now show me how much of a slut you are''

You put the palm of your hand against her pussy and she immediately started to grind against it. Your free hand went to her cheek forcing her to look into your eyes.

fuck those gorgeous green eyes

You kissed her softly, something natasha always loved is how gentle your touch was her even in moments like these she could feel the love behind the action. She whined against your lips making you smirk. 'awww baby do you need something?' You put you thumb against her lips . 'daddy please fuck me~' She whined her hands going under you shirt looking for skin to skin to contact. 'you want my cock, baby? you want daddy cock inside of you?' You used your index finger to pull on the thin fabric then let it go making it snap against her.

''hmm, please daddy claim me. i want you to mark me.''

''then get on your knees.''

She did as you demanded getting and loosened the belt pulling your pants down revealing the red strap. Natasha wasn't full on drunk, was she getting there? Oh for sure but not to the point she couldn't notice it was the strapon wanda magicly enhanced so you could feel everything like it was a real cock. She started to kiss the tip while holding eye contact with you.

this woman is gonna be the death of you and you couldn't care less

You sighed out of relieve at the feeling. As she slowly took the fake cock into her mouth you gentle went with your hands thru her hair the smile on your face never leaving love the sight and feeling knowing. ''who is daddy good little slu- ahhh you are baby FUCK!''

You used one hand to hold the sink while the other was still natasha soft red hair. You could feel her take the entire length, humming to please you as much as possible and her tongue moving around. You let this happen for abit enjoying how skillfull you wife mouth is before pulling her of. You panted while looking her messy face lipstick ruined by all the drool. You pulled her her up to and kissed her quick but passionate kiss.

''bend over for me and beg maybe then i let you cum over my cock''

She did as you said making sure her ass was on full display for you and wiggled it abit. You pulled the lingerie off of her and put them in you pocket. ''don't hold back on the noises. i want everyone near us to hear how much of a whore you are, understood?'' ''yes daddy''

You hummed before the upper half of you body was covered in nanotech and you didn't miss the way natasha started to move her ass more when she saw it reflected back in the mirror. 'keep looking in the mirror i want you to see everything' As soon the words left you mouth you started to spank her with the back of your hand now covered in metal hand. She yelped with every hit and you didn't stop until her ass was bright red. You didn't bother with giving her a warning just slamming your cock into her since she was dripping so much. Natasha screamed and you penetrated her at a animalistic pace. You threw you head back at the warm tight feeling of pussy and her moans sound divine. If she let you, you would do this for the entire night.

You grabbed her by the throat pulling her close enough for you to mark her entire back of her neck with hickey. Out of no where you stop your movement making natasha whine for more. You groaned feeling her squeez around.

''please daddy i need you! i'm a good girl please just let me cum over your perfect cock!'' She kept begging while you looked at her like she was a piece of meat for you to devour. You eventually flipped her over and started all over again. You made sure to cover her neck and breast with hickey while she clung on you. 'ahh daddy you're making me cum' she shouted and you were sure anyone in the same hall as the bathroom could hear her. You pulled her closer so your foreheads were touching each other while you used your right hand to keep her close you left hand went to her clit. Your left hand turned into a clit sucking vibrator sending natasha over the egde. You made sure to prolong her pleasure for as long as possible.

As soon as your left hand was off of her she grabbed it and sucked it. The pretty sight made you groan and natasha smirked. She let go of you hand with a pop sound while you gentle pulled out her of making her moan and leaving her pussy cleching around nothing. You pulled your pants back up covering the fake cock before natasha grabbed it.

''you haven't cummed yet'' A devilish smile made its way onto your face. ''oh im not done with you yet baby'' Natasha bite her bottoms lips in anticipation. Then the door opened , you first instinct is to cover up tash with your body as somone ran past straight to the toilet.

''i'm sorry i couldn't hold it. i swear i didn't see anything!''

You rolled your eyes as nat hide her blushing face in you neck. You made sure to clean her up fast and the nanotech went back into the container. She however didn't move from the sink. 'i-i cant walk...' You laughed at how shy she sounded in return she glared and pouted at you. 'don't laugh at me'

''sorry sorry babe you just look so cute'' You giggled before carring bride style. You walked out and people were staring at you and tash after all none of them ever seen black widow this... soft. As soon as happy saw it he rolled his eyes and told the other bodyguards they could take the rest of the night off knowing you murder them if they ever interrupted your kinky time with nat. ''please just make sure your naked ass doesn't end up on the news like your dad did.'' Happy said and you laughed at how your dad ended up drunk butt naked on the roof top after a wild party.

''don't worry about it i wouldn't let a media shit head near my wife''

You walked out to your car as people were shouting for your attention. Natasha had her head nuzzled into your neck making you smile. You gentle put her in the passenger seat and you drove off to a calm and quite place in the woods.

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maybe i will write a part 2?

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separatist-apologist · 4 months

Text

A Lost Princess of Sunlight

Summary: Lady Elain has spent her life in the idyllic countryside wanting for nothing, so when her adopted sister Vassa begs her to accompany her to court, how can Elain say no? The roguish prince is in need of a wife and Elain, certain she'd make a terrible princess, has no interest in such theatrics.

But something about the palace brings back memories lost to the sea ten years before. Memories Elain had been certain she'd never get back…memories that speak of a colder place, and sisters long forgotten. Amid the tumultuous politics and the looming war, Elain finds herself embroiled in a mystery to find out who she really is.

And where she really comes from.

Note: HAPPY HOLIDAYS @writtenonreceipts! I hope you like this- I tried so hard to give it TOG vibes AND to incorporate nessian and feysand because you said you love them (and I in turn love you).

@acotargiftexchange

Major thanks to @velidewrites and @wilde-knight for the moodboard + beta-ing this fic when I was laying face down in a puddle of my own tears.

Prologue:

“Go,” Feyre whispered, hands pushing against Elain’s back. It was frigid outside, their boots cracking the ice crusted over the cobblestone streets. It should have smelled like pine and snow, should have been utterly silent as everyone waited for the coming Solstice and the gifts that so often accompanied it.

War had shattered the once idyllic peace, inching closer and closer to the capital of Ellesmere until Elain and her family were forced to flee in the night. Just ahead, her mother grasped Nesta’s hand, weaving through alleyways unfamiliar to the ransacking soldiers.

She knew where they were going. They had practiced this before. One more left, ducking beneath a half-ruined awning, and then a sprint to the docks where a ship was waiting. Her father was nowhere to be seen, though Elain supposed he had a head start on them.

“Go,” her mother urged, pushing Nesta, then Elain, and finally Feyre into the little vessel. A man was waiting, hoisting them beneath with hurried, impatient fingers. “Get down—”

A flaming arrow screamed through the night, missing Feyre by mere inches. It took Elain a minute to realize what had happened—the shield that had saved her youngest sister’s life. Their mother stared, blue eyes like glassy mirrors against her ashen face. Golden brown hair graying at the temples was set aflame. Nesta began screaming, the words ringing in Elain’s ears.

“Go,” their mother mouthed, hitting her knees before she pitched forward. Hands pulled the three of them roughly back into the boat as orders were given to pull up the anchor. Was she crying? It seemed as if she must be given how frozen her face felt.

The world was moving too slow for Elain, making it impossible for her racing thoughts to process. Even as the ship pulled away, dragged by roaring wind, Elain was certain their mother was going to get up.

She didn’t.

“Princess,” the captain was yelling at Nesta, unsteady against the choppy northern sea. “Princess, we need—”

Elain never heard what they needed. The wind drowned out the command which Elain didn’t care much about, anyway. Was Nesta Queen, now? The few sailors moving about eyed her fourteen-year-old sister warily and though Elain couldn’t hear what Nesta said, she recognized the sharpness of her eyes. Nesta was used to giving out such commands. Feyre was gripping the railing of their ship, staring at the water below with a hollow gaze. Elain knew what she needed to do—put on a brave face and take Feyre into the interior of the ship where they could get some sleep, if only to forget what was happening to their home.

Everything was going to be okay. They’d get to the safehouse where relatives would be waiting to usher them to safety. Everyone was okay. A healer would attend to their mother who would be bedridden but otherwise safe.

Deep, deep down Elain knew it was a lie. She needed those lies, at least for now. As the ship rocked, Elain made her way toward Feyre who was still looking outward. The once beautiful city she’d spent her life in was a mere haze of smoke and fire in the distance, half lost to the fog of sea.

“Feyre,” Elain began, though that was all she was able to say before the ship violently lurched to one side. The gods were moody that night, unwilling to offer safe passage despite the circumstances. Elain lost Feyre, hitting her back against the wet wood so roughly it robbed her of breath.

Please, she thought just as water rushed over her. It was shockingly cold, leaving her paralyzed like a rag doll, flung from one end to the other. She could hear nothing, could do nothing, utterly helpless to even draw breath though she desperately wanted to.

Get up get up get up! Her mind screamed with panic. Elain did try to grasp at something when the ship tilted sickeningly again, though her fingers were utterly stiff and unwilling to bend. The world was upside down, a swirl of dark hues of navy and gray.

And then it was silent and salt and made entirely of water. Elain’s body constricted, lungs demanding air though none arrived when she opened her mouth. More water, more fear. She could feel nothing, could see nothing. Just a blur of her own hazy fear and the terrible fear she was going to die.

Elain did try, though it amounted to nothing. There was nothing to cling to, no light to tell her which way was up and which way was down. And as the cold seeped in, somehow driving out the horrible chill, she thought that maybe this wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was better to be without fear.

Maybe this was a mercy.

In the end, it was nothing at all.

[ten years later]

Lucien Vanserra stretched out his legs, neck stiff. “Bastard,” he spat, tossing his sword to the muddy ground beneath him. Behind him, the boisterous laugh of his best friend and second-in-command Jurian followed him out of the training pits.

“You’re a sore loser,” Jurian crooned, likely catching the way Lucien’s fists curled and uncurled. “I have half a mind to tell your father you were bested in training again.”

“And I have half a mind to punch you in the face ahead of Lady Vassa’s visit,” Lucien retorted hotly, wiping the smile off Jurian’s face. “Oh. Did you not hear she was coming to court?”

It was Jurian’s turn to look as though he’d like to hit Lucien. Lucien had intended to tell Jurian though it had slipped his awareness given all the other things happening. Now was as good a time as any, besides.

“Why?”

“Why do you suppose? Now that mother and father insist I marry, every lord with a daughter under the age of forty will descend upon us hoping to secure a match.”

“You wouldn’t—”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Lucien snapped, wiping his sweaty brow against his bare forearm. “And Lady Vassa is hardly on mothers shortlist besides. This little ball of hers is not in good faith.”

“Ah, but it will be one last night of debauchery and fun,” Jurian teased, elbowing Lucien in the ribs. “This is every firstborn son’s duty, is it not? Get married, carry on the family line, etcetera and so forth?”

Lucien’s mood only darkened at the prospect. It wasn’t that he minded the thought of one day having a son, of becoming king and ruling the empire his father had so strategically built. It was the manner in which he was expected to do it. His own father had been allowed to choose his wife, however ill-advised it had been at the time. Lucien had no intention of stealing another man's wife as his father had done, sweeping her away and leaving six furious sons behind.

He merely wanted the ability to say who he wanted when he wanted.

And, perhaps, he was still a little burned by Jesminda’s rather abrupt dismissal of their courtship. She was gone, left to the countryside with her new husband she loved. Lucien told himself he ought to be happy for her. It had been nearly two years since she’d left, married and beaming—practically glowing, now that he thought about it. He’d been too bitter at the time to notice. He didn’t begrudge her that.

Lucien merely wished she had felt that way about him. He was convinced there was no one else in the world for him and perhaps he’d told his mother so drunkenly a few months earlier. If he’d only kept his big mouth shut, he’d have been allowed to carouse as he liked for at least another year.

Possibly two if he was careful about it.

Now he’d be married by solstice—just in time to parade his new wife around the summit in Velaris while making not-so-veiled threats to Archeron, the utter bastard. He was in the process of marrying off his eldest daughter so he, too, might have a successor to the throne, looking west toward Lucien’s half brother which was a threat in and of itself.

Everyone knew the Vanserras would love to see the southern empire laid to ruin. It was important Lucien married more than ever—ideally into a family with deep pockets to fight the war they all knew was coming. Peace was tentative, brokered when the northern royals lost their queen and a princess all in the same day. Ellesmere ceded territory laden with gold, enriching Lucien’s family and in exchange his father returned their remaining two daughters, rescued at sea.

He still remembered Nesta Archeron. They’d been allowed to live in the palace rather than as prisoners and while Feyre had been mostly mute, glassy eyed and silent, Nesta had raged like a wild animal.

If she still harbored even a lick of resentment, Lucien knew she’d be the driving force behind Eris Vanserra’s throne and her father's bid for revenge. Eris was coming on a diplomatic mission, too, which was the polite way of saying Lucien’s mother was going to throw herself at his feet and hope she forgave her for leaving, while offering up all the same women she was pushing at Lucien, too.

As if Eris were the type for a love match.

Shaking his head, Lucien pushed through the wooden gate to make his way back toward the city. It was unseasonably hot even for summer, the humidity drawing sweat even when he was sitting in the shade. It was miserable just then, boots hitting the sunstone streets with a loud thwack. Behind them, the sounds of clanging metal and groaning soldiers were half drowned by the cheerful white sands and foaming ocean, while ahead of them the bustling city created a chorus of voices. It was Lucien’s favorite sound.

And his favorite sight. The looming palace on the hill made of ivory and gold and the multicolored buildings that circled around, built on a sloping mountainside. Purple flowers dotted along spiky grass while towering palm trees occasionally dropped coconuts to the streets. As a child, Lucien had collected them, begging his father to puncture them so he could drink the milk inside as he strutted about, a pretend sword strapped to his hip.

Now when he stepped onto the main road people lowered their eyes and bowed their heads. He wasn’t a boy anymore, but a man they might one day call king. Lucien missed being the former, though—missed the way they’d reach for a strand of his auburn hair or how they’d sneak him little treats when they thought his parents weren’t looking.

Jurian straightened, his expression shifting from Lucien’s friend to Captain of the Guard. One day Jurian would be his General, but for now, this was enough. Jurian was one of them—just another man from Rhodes who had risen through the ranks while making Lucien feel less isolated when he, too, had been shoved into the army. Everyone else treated Lucien with respect.

Jurian had shoved his face into the dirt.

“There’s a way out of immediate marriage,” Jurian began, reminding Lucien once again why he was both Lucien’s best friend and closest advisor.

“Go on,” Lucien murmured, inhaling the smell of grilled meat.

“Velaris is filled with beautiful women. Tell your mother you’re interested in a more political marriage.”

“And when she realizes I’m not interested in a more political marriage?” Lucien asked dryly, trying to think of the last time he’d been inside Velaris. Had he ever? Maybe once when he’d been a boy, the memory eluding him.

“It’ll be winter and half the ladies who visited will be married to other lords. It’s not forever, but maybe another year or two. Nothing will save you from the marriage bed forever.”

“It’s better than anything I considered,” Lucien agreed, dodging a donkey hauling a cart filled with sunmelons.

“And who knows. Maybe the love of your life is up in the mountains,” Jurian added, elbowing Lucien once again.

“I doubt that,” Lucien grumbled, his thoughts once again turning toward Jesminda. How long before she was pregnant, he wondered? How long before she brought her firstborn to court for his father’s blessing, forcing Lucien to see the man and family she’d wanted over him?

Why not me?

Knowing full well Jesminda had never wanted to be a princess and had never wanted to be queen.

He couldn’t shake the thought from his mind even as he entered the opulent palace to a loud argument between two of the philosophers his father insisted be allowed to live at court. Sidestepping them and mumbling a goodbye to Jurian, Lucien took the steps two at a time toward his bedroom. He needed just a little silence and a chance to clear his head.

Flopping onto his bed, still sticky from heat and sweat, Lucien closed his eyes, intending to find a way through the tangled mess that was his mind.

All he found was sleep.

“Come with me,” Vassa urged, reaching for Elain’s hands. “Please. Please. Pleasepleaseplease—”

“I don’t belong at court,” Elain interrupted, looking up from her book. Vassa plopped beside her, spreading her hands over the cerulean blue of her skirts. “And you’ll have more fun without me.”

“I won’t. I never do,” Vassa protested, pretty face twisted into a scowl. “The prince is a bore and his court is far too self-satisfied to be of any amusement.”

“Stop, you’re making it sound too fun—”

“Come with me anyway. Rhodes is a wonderful city filled with libraries and museums and amusements beyond your wildest imagination. Plus there will be parties and dancing and you love parties and dancing.”

“Yes, and there will be all these well-bred ladies–”

“You’re a well-bred lady, and my sister to boot.”

Elain offered Vassa a look of exasperation. They were sisters in name only, but not by blood. Elain’s family was yet another casualty in the brutality the north inflicted upon them, razing her village to the ground and tossing her body into the western sea. Had she not been found by Lord Koshington, Elain might have succumbed to exposure. Her life before Vassa was lost to her and in some ways, she knew she was quite fortunate. She’d been given the education of a lady and one day a marriage would be arranged on her behalf.

It was far better than whatever she’d been expecting before the raid, she supposed. But just because Lord Koshington had taken her in didn’t make her an actual lady. Elain had never been brave enough to go to court either, choosing to remain behind rather than be reminded of her inadequacies.

She wanted to see it all, if only once.

“I should stay–”

“I won’t take no for an answer. Please. I’ll do your latin homework for a week if you agree. Or…I’ll give you my gold dress—”

“You wouldn’t,” Elain replied, facing the book in her lap to fully look at Vassa. “You love that gown.”

“I love you more. Is that an agreement, then? You’ll spend a month in Rhodes with me in exchange for my gold dress?”

“And my latin homework. And you’ll work harder on the piano when we return as well. I’m tired of being the only one asked to play when guests come over.”

“Done,” Vassa agreed, blue eyes as bright as the sun itself. “Lucky you agreed because I may have told father this morning you’d agreed to accompany me. We’ll serve as each other's chaperones so he can waste his time droning on and on with the king about politics.”

“Chaperones? Who are you hoping to see?”

Vassa’s bronzed cheeks darkened, her freckles lost beneath the wash of color. Elain forgot her book entirely, surging forward until their faces were mere inches apart. “Tell me his name at once!”

“Swear to keep it between us. I would die if he ever learned the depth of my affection. He thinks I loathe him and I would prefer to keep it that way.”

“You’re cruel, Vassa.”

“Men prefer to work for our affection and this man is no different. Worse, I suspect, which is why I like him. The prince’s mother is hoping to match someone with her son but I am far more interested in the Captain of the Guard.”

“Is he handsome?” Elain asked, resting the back of her head against the rough bark of the tree behind her.

“Terribly handsome. And horribly stupid, but in an endearing sort of way. I’m certain he’s good at many things…just not winning an argument.”

“Well, no one can win an argument against the likes of you,” Elain said with a laugh. “What will the lord say about it?”

Vassa’s smile dipped a bit. “No, I’m sure. He has no title, no money and will always serve the prince. Still. It’s fun to imagine a world in which we could select our own husbands, don’t you think?”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Elain admitted. “It seems risky.”

“That’s just what men want you to think. But we’re perfectly capable of knowing our own minds and deciding for ourselves. We’re not as helpless and brainless as they imagine.”

“What are you planning?”

“Me? Oh, I wouldn’t dream of planning or plotting.”

Elain rolled her eyes, wondering for the first time just how much Vassa actually liked this man and how far she might be willing to go. Elain pondered it all evening, wondering if she shouldn’t tell someone that sending the two of them mostly alone to Rhodes was a bad idea.

But Vassa’s words lingered in her mind.

We’re not as helpless and brainless as they imagine.

Because Vassa was right. She’d been educated within an inch of her life just for men to waltz around her acting as if she were as new as a freshly born baby. Treated as though it were cute she had opinions when she was supposed to be nothing more than ornamentation while Elain brushed it off because what else could she do?

But Vassa was right, just like she always was. They weren’t stupid—men wanted it both ways. They wanted a wife smart enough to one day oversee the education of their sons, but stupid enough they were always the unchallenged authority. It didn’t mean Elain wouldn’t acquiesce when her time came—she had no other option and no other skills but to be married—but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help Vassa escape the expectations.

That was what Elain told herself, anyway. And it helped her sleep at night for the following week as preparations were made to leave the idyllic countryside estate they resided on and make their way further south toward the coast. Lord Koschington was still accompanying them and would be the one to introduce Elain to court—as his niece rather than his daughter. That was the more believable lie without besmirching Elain’s reputation right from the start.

With the gold gown packed in a trunk and the promise of being allowed to coast in her lessons when she returned—assuming Vassa returned with her at all. Elain was dreading the carriage ride not because the journey was long and it was already oppressively hot, even at dawn, but because Lord Koshington loved to hear himself talk.

And in the carriage he had a captive audience.

For five miserable hours, Vassa and Elain sat straight backed and silent while Lord Koschington droned on and on about King Helion’s feud with the King of the North, Archeron. Elain loathed the name like any good southerner, having learned to fear those silver armored warriors that often ducked across the border to raze whole villages to the ground.

He had two daughters and Koschington was fascinated with the oldest, said to be unparalleled in her beauty and destined for the prince to the west, Eris Vanserra. For five hours, all he talked about was the disaster it would be if those two territories united and how Lucien would be the last Spell-Cleaver to ever sit on the sunlit throne. It was the sort of conundrum that kept men like Lord Koshington awake at night but to Elain, who couldn’t remember the war and had been living in nothing but peace for the last decade, it felt more like unwarranted anxiety.

Who cared about a princess’ marriage? Why wouldn’t she marry a prince, besides? Elain had heard rumors that Eris Vanserra was the most handsome prince in the realm, still unmarried as his ancient father crept toward the grave. She imagined there was a line from his bedroom door to the edge of his coast hoping to secure him as a husband.

As for herself, well. She was glad to not be in such a position. Elain didn’t think she cared for that kind of responsibility.

Eventually, even Lord Koschington was silenced by the heat, sweat sliding down the temples of his face. His once onyx hair was threaded with silver and his face lined with age though he was easily a good-looking man. Elain sometimes wondered why he’d never remarried after the passing of his wife though she’d never had the guts to ask him. That was private—personal.

He wasn’t her father, either. He’d cared for her, taken her in when that had never been his obligation and treated her as well as his own daughter.

Elain knew better than to upset him. Though he’d never given her a reason to believe otherwise, some part of her suspected that if she acted outside of his will, he might withdraw his support. Better to be above reproach in all things so he felt his investment was worth it.

Elain had never been more grateful in her life to stumble out of a carriage. At first glance, she saw the women in the capitol wore far fewer layers than they had been out in the country. No laces, no petticoats, no sleeves. Gods above, but Elain was desperate to update her wardrobe with the breezy fabrics and shorter sleeves, even if some part of her felt slightly scandalized by the scooping backs and the clingy bodices.

She noticed the palace itself next. Set atop a rather steep hill and half-carved into a mountain overlooking the southern sea, the sprawling structure was made of ivory and gold, lined with swaying green palms, while purple flowers dotted against the lawn.

Rows of carriages circled to the front of the drive spilling ladies in all manner of garb toward the towering pillars where they were greeted by an elderly man draped in white. Elain and Vassa both dipped into curtseys when it was their turn as Lord Koshington announced, “My daughters, Vassa and Elain.” Elain’s pulse hammered.

My daughter.

He’d told her she would be introduced as a cousin. Daughter? Blinking rapidly lest she burst into tears, Elain grasped Vassa’s hand so hard she was certain there was no blood flow. Putting aside his kind words and his willingness to pretend she was wholly his, Elain and Vassa stepped into the palace. She’d expected more of the miserable, oppressive heat but somehow it was cool. Not cold, but chilly enough a shiver raced up her spine the moment the air hit her skin.

They were hardly the most anticipated guests—no royals to greet them, no decadent rooms. Lord Koshington had his own while the girls were given a suite of interconnected bedrooms that were larger than anything Elain had ever seen. Draped in cream and gold, her bedroom had the good fortune of overlooking the sea and the gardens just below.

Elain was living in a dream.

She didn’t want to wake up.

Nesta Archeron took the spiraling, stone steps two at a time, navy skirts gathered in one hand to keep her from plummeting right back down. Chilly hair nipped at her cheeks, drawing color that wouldn’t otherwise exist. The air itself stung her eyes, making them seem glassy like she’d been crying.

Nesta Archeron never cried.

Hiding at the top of the tower stood her younger sister Feyre, fingers bright red from the cold. “Have they arrived?” Nesta asked, shouldering beside Feyre to peer out of the little arched window overlooking the whole of the city.

“There,” Feyre said, nodding toward the black and silver banners marching toward the palace gates. Nesta’s eyes were drawn to the man sitting atop a black steed, his matching cape fluttering in the wind. She couldn’t see him well, but every ounce him screamed warrior king.

King Rhysand of the East.They called him the King of Nightmares for his reputation for being ruthless—he didn’t kill those who slipped over his border looking to destabilize his regime. Rhysand had them tortured, broke their minds, and sent them back home.

He was flanked on either side by two men who might have been brothers. The distance obscured their features, though Nesta could make out the broad shoulders and lethal sword hilt of the one on the left and the slimmer build of the one on the right. She supposed the one on the left was the terrifying Lord of Bloodshed, Rhysand’s general, and the other was the torture master himself, Azriel.

For the first time in living memory, the North was welcoming the East into their borders. Nesta wasn’t foolish enough to think it was mere diplomacy, though she’d already promised the prince of the west her home, her throne, and her body, too, if he returned with a way into the south.

But should he fail, she’d do what her father was hoping and she’d marry Rhysand if he could offer her the revenge she was so desperate for.

Nesta’s nightmares were still plagued of Elain, wide-eyed and shivering as she made her way toward Feyre in the dark. She still dreamt of the ricocheting canon that slammed into their ship and how she and Feyre were whisked into a lifeboat. How they’d been kept political prisoners by Helion himself, their lives used to forge the treaty that now bound both nations.

While Elain had never been found, her body still haunting the sea bed.

And Nesta might have been able to forgive the death of her mother. But she’d sworn her life to protecting Elain the very night she’d failed. It was the only way to convince Elain to leave.

I’ll protect you. Please. Come with me.

How she’d failed.

Nesta was old enough to inherit her father’s throne though law dictated she needed a husband and so Nesta had begun a campaign of finding the right man. She didn’t need love—didn’t want love. She wanted vengeance and none of the men at court were equipped to give her that.

Eris Vanserra wanted it nearly as badly as she did, and was just as practical. He’d told her he wasn’t looking for a love match and would look the other way if she chose to take a lover so long as she was discreet about it—and he had no question regarding any future offspring.

Fine.

He would be there now, poking through Helion’s secrets. Looking for weaknesses, mapping out their borders, the walls of Rhodes, and anything else he could glean. Nesta would give him everything, ruining her father’s careful legacy in favor of turning her family into Vanserras, giving her husband total control her territory, her wealth, her armies.

And she’d be the one to drive the blade straight through Helion’s blackened heart.

Rhysand was her backup plan and her father’s first choice. Eris Vanserra was a snake in the grass, untrustworthy and perhaps more damning, a Vanserra. Their family had ruled longer than any other on the continent, with a legacy that predated the oldest written record.

But for all Eris’ faults, Nesta knew vengeance was personal for him. Helion had stolen his mother away in the night, forced her into marriage, and made her his wife. Those kinds of scars lingered, lasted. Rhysand wasn’t that sort of man from what she’d gathered.

He was a shadowed mystery, his motivations unclear. She didn’t know if he even wanted conquest, or if he was merely interested in seeing her home. She’d sent several letters which he’d returned with short, polite answers. Nothing helpful, no hidden message she could read between the lines. Only a gentleman’s words that were utterly banal and uninteresting to her.

Gentleman be damned.

She needed someone bloodthirsty and cruel.

Beside her, Feyre turned her head, chestnut hair whipping against her face. She knew, even if Nesta had never once explicitly said what she planned. Feyre knew, watchful as she was. Whether she approved or not didn’t matter, though Nesta had never known Feyre to be terribly soft-hearted. And she suspected she carried the same weighty guilt over Elain’s death, held the same deep-seated need to see someone pay for it.

“We should be ready to greet them,” Nesta said, well aware Feyre would slip up into the rafters to listen without anyone watching.

“You go, then. I have no interest in any more princes or kings,” she replied, blue eyes flashing with defiance. “Nor do I wish to assist father in selling us off like livestock.”

“Not us. Me. You are safe—and once I’m married, you can pick whatever lovely northern gentleman is hounding your steps. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I don’t want a husband. We don’t need any of these horrible men to get what we want, Nesta. Take the throne, rewrite the laws—”

“The nobility would revolt. They’d throw me in prison or worse, force a marriage on me, wait until I gave them a son, and then stage some timely yet tragic accident. It’s better to have a say in it. To decide for myself and direct it as best I can.”

“None of them are trustworthy and I fear this king—Rhysand— is the worst of them.”

“Worse than Vanserra?” Nesta replied, genuinely curious which Feyre would prefer ruling their home.

Feyre glanced back out the window, eyes narrowing. “He looks like a liar.”

“That’s because he’s a man.”

Feyre blew out a breath, crossing her arms over the rosy pink dress she wore. Neither of them would acknowledge what they were both thinking—Lord Tamlin Rosewood, who’d asked for Feyre’s hand in marriage and then struck her in a fit of frustration over some problem with the dowry. It had been, he claimed, an accident.

He had been expelled from court, banished to the countryside and Feyre locked in her room until the bruising on her face faded. Everyone wanted to pretend it had never happened but to Nesta, it merely highlighted that she needed to be the one to secure their family so Feyre could have a small sliver of peace.

Love was for the lower classes, besides. Perhaps Ferye understood that, now.

“Come on,” Nesta said, hoping she wouldn’t have to go alone. She would, but she would feel less anxiety if she weren’t by herself.

For once, Feyre didn’t put up a fight. Perhaps she recognized Nesta’s own vulnerability. Or maybe she wanted to stare the foreign king down with that lethal gaze of hers that made men wither to dust. Nesta thought it would be something to see them cower before her petite sister rethinking whatever strategy she was certain they must have.

The halls were utterly emptied, leaving only the watchful sentries posted by windows and doors, none of whom were allowed to meet their gaze. She still remembered Elain trying so hard to get the ones at the throne room door to smile and how she’d nearly always succeeded.

Feyre and Nesta didn’t bother.

Their father was waiting, sitting on his icy, iron throne crowned in the blue diamonds that could be found only in the ancient mountains of the Spine, the natural border between their home and Rhysand’s. Nesta wondered if Rhysand would come wearing them, too. Nesta was wearing them around her neck, so heavy it made her spine ache. She’d carefully braided her hair off her face and put on a rather sumptuous, though conservative, gown.

She was beautiful and she knew it. Nesta also knew that men liked a woman who presented herself well—Eris Vanserra had certainly been taken with her presentation, and she assumed Rhysand would be, too. There was no harm in letting him see what he wanted. A wellbred, obedient wife was the expectation. It wasn’t the reality, but that was a problem for another day.

Nesta and Feyre took their place on either side of their father, staring across the room lined with nobility as the sounds of heavy footsteps began echoing louder and louder. For one moment, something in Nesta quaked with fear, blood icy as though death itself was making its way for her.

It was only a man—a man she didn’t want, didn’t like, and would never love. Rhysand and his right hands were the only ones who came in, strangely unadorned.

He was, objectively, attractive enough. High cheekbones set in a symmetrical face, with eyes so blue they were nearly violet and dark hair styled to look as though the wind had merely tousled it. A silver circlet of stars adorned his brow and one heavy ring was perched on his middle finger while the rest of him was rather bare in comparison to her father.

He looked like a warrior king in his dark black leathers and the heavy cape hanging from his shoulders. He lacked all the pomp and circumstance Eris had brought with him along with the warmth, too. His whole presence exuded ice and instinctively, Nesta took a step back.

His eyes were on her, and then her father as he swept into a bow. Nesta watched, as he came back up, how his gaze slid to Feyre.

And remained there.

“Rhysand,” her father began, his voice sharp and clear. “I hope the journey didn’t give you too much trouble.”

A cat’s smile slid across his features, eyes flicking back to their father. “None at all.”

Nesta didn’t hear her father’s response, buzzing filling her ears as she took a moment to survey the other men who’d come to join their king. The tallest one had removed the heavy helmet he wore, tucking it beneath one muscular arm and oh, Nesta wished he hadn’t. His face, scarred just at the eyebrow and again across full lips, was perhaps the most beautiful face she’d ever laid eyes on. Not classically, of course—for one, he was far too large. The sconce on the wall across the room was, perhaps, as tall as this man was and the muscle packed on his body spoke to an active life, never mind the twin, curved swords looming over his shoulders.

A light layer of dark stubble graced a perfect jaw while strange, whirling black inked tattoos peeked from beneath the neckline of his armor. She wondered what they meant, what their purpose was. Nesta drank in his slightly crooked nose, likely broken in some battle he’d won and the curved scar across his throat that must have been brutal when he’d first received it. He had his large hands clasped in front of him and when she looked up to take in the color of his eyes—hazel, more green than brown—she found he was grinning at her.

He’d caught her looking at him and wanted her to know it. Nesta immediately looked away, unable to hide the damning flush creeping up her own neck.

Nesta swore he’d never catch her looking at him again.

Hands in his pockets, Rhys allowed Archeron to show him around the palace. These visits never failed to bore him. Look at this painting, survey my wealth. Did you see my daughters? Aren’t they lovely?

Usually the answer was covert eyerolls and shared smirks with Cassian and Azriel. Today, though, Rhys felt moody. Unsettled. Disturbed, even, by the younger daughter he hadn’t known existed and hadn’t expected to see.

Rumors swirled about Nesta Archeron and the possible marriage her father was considering with heir apparent Eris Vanserra. His father was on death’s door and a marriage between North and West almost certainly promised a brutal and bloody war.

When Helion had learned, he’d sent word to Rhysand. What is going on in the Spine?

Nothing smart. Rhysand intended to do what he did best—lie. Pretend he had interest in Nesta, jerk her around for a year while he drew up marriage contracts that had to be written and rewritten and written again, wasting her time while Eris inevitably moved on to some nice noble in his own court.

And then Rhys could withdraw, free to continue philandering until his advisors put their foot down. His presence was purely nefarious—two months freezing his balls off in the frigid north while Cassian inspected the army and Azriel devoured secrets.

And yet…and yet.

Rhysand’s mind slipped toward the younger daughter and those eyes. They looked like the same stars that hung over the Illyrian Mountains, silvery and bright and so very alive. Rhys had spent his entire life gazing up at them—he would have recognized them anywhere. Even in the face of that woman, who spared only a passing glance before she fixed her stare on the wall behind him, clearly underwhelmed by their presence.

He wanted to talk to her. He’d seen beautiful women before, though perhaps this was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and that beauty was often exhausted the moment they opened their mouth to speak to him.

Easier said than done. Rhys tried, but Nesta Archeron became the ambassador for the Archerons, silently watching him without ever speaking a word. He found that unnerving all through dinner and wasn’t the only one. The moment he, Azriel, and Cassian were locked away in the suite of rooms, Azriel was the first to speak.

“This place feels like a tomb,” he said, looking around the dark interior.

“Why don’t the princesses speak?” Cassian added, pulling open the heavy velvet curtains blocking out the dim light. “Are they allowed?”

“We should have brought Morrigan,” Azriel grumbled, flopping gracelessly onto a floral sofa.

“She doesn’t deserve the archaic practices of Archeron,” Rhys replied, running a finger over the marble mantle of the fireplace. A thin layer of dust came with it, proving the North rarely hosted guests.

They were far too untrusting.

He supposed he didn’t blame Archeron given the horror of that final invasion. Rhysand couldn’t imagine losing both a wife and a daughter, no matter how, frankly, deserved Rhysand still found the entire thing. After all—Archeron had marched into a neutral city, the third largest in the West, blocked all routes in and out, and burned it entirely to the ground in the matter of a week.

War was hell and there were no heroes. Helion’s father had retaliated, breaking into the capital city and sacking it over the course of a night. In the aftermath, he’d taken the two surviving daughters hostage and only agreed to return them when a peace treaty had been brokered, redefining old borders and returning both stolen land and land long contested.

Oh, but it was all such a mess even a decade later. Those wounds had been left to fester and no matter how Rhysand looked at it, he could see no path forward that didn’t explode into utter disaster. Maybe if Lucien Spell-Cleaver married an Archeron they could avoid war, but he’d heard the prince was far too spoiled and sheltered to be offered up like a political pawn.

And having seen Nesta, he doubted she was willing to subject herself to another hurt at the hands of the West.

“What did you think of Nesta?” Cassian asked, his words carrying a strange ribbon of curiosity. Rhys opened his mouth before closing it again, trying to find words that were both honest without being cruel.

“I doubt a marriage is in our collective futures. Still—maybe she’ll surprise me.”

“With a dagger to your throat,” Azriel commented lightly, causing Cassian to grin at the thought.

“We don’t need to worry about them other than distracting them. Any one of us can accomplish that,” Rhys declared, wondering why the image of Azriel and Feyre annoyed him so much.

“Let's get what we came for and let’s get out of this miserable city.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Azriel murmured, stretching out his legs.

“I can already tell you their military is weak in compared to our own,” Cassian half whispered, his gaze sharp. “I’m going to ask to train with them tomorrow—”

“Trotting out the dumb brute act?” Azriel questioned, a gleam in his eyes.

“My favorite,” Cassian agreed. “I just love swinging a sword and no one ever taught me to read.”

“There must be more of them. Up in the mountains?” Azriel suggested, glancing toward the windows. “Archeron wouldn’t be so stupid to leave his entire kingdom undefended just to protect one city.”

“Helion decimated them a decade ago. Men don’t grow up so quickly,” Rhys reminded them both. “The north has gold, and diamonds from the Spine. Vanserra has manpower and a navy none of us could fend off should he bring it to our shores. It makes sense that Nesta would go to Eris first if she lacked manpower.”

“Then why are we here?” Cassian asked, drumming his fingers against his knee.

“Perhaps Vanserra isn’t sold on the idea?” Rhys suggested, uncertain himself. “Or her father wants to explore all his options? We’re here to prevent another war that would almost certainly drag us into it,” he added, looking at his general and spymaster.

“We’re just waiting out the summer, then?” Azriel questioned.

Rhys nodded. “We can give them all a little taste of what war might mean for them this time.”

Knowing his objective didn’t do much for Rhys’s restless mind, though. While his brothers got ready for the evening, making jokes and generally amused by the entire situation, Rhys slipped from the suite of rooms they shared to walk the halls. It unnerved him how many people were watching under the guise of not watching at all. The sentries and guards never looked at him and he knew his steps would be reported to the king before breakfast.

Getting around undetected was Azriel’s domain. Rhys had never tried, commanded too much attention. He was always the distraction, besides. No one gave Azriel and Cassian much thought, certain he must be the knife in the dark. Slick smiles and double entendre made everyone assume he was far more clever than he was.

Cassian was the dumb brute, Azriel obsessed with cruelty which left Rhys as the one worth watching. He just seemed like a two-faced bastard. And to be fair…he was. But he had help, had chosen his inner circle carefully.

His feet took him to a set of stone steps that spiraled upward into a tower. It was a decent vantage point over the dreary city. Fog hung like a curtain, floating from the mountains that kept the warmer air Velaris received from reaching them. Rhys heard there were years where Ellesmere experienced nothing but rain every single day.

No wonder they liked war so much. What else was there for them?

At the top of this tower, rather than more oppressive fog, sat the younger princess. Rhys hesitated, drinking in the sight of her propped up in that window, one leg dangling precariously over the edge. Her hair was braided over one shoulder and propped on the wall beside her, a bow with a quiver of arrows.

Another sentry, far prettier than any of the others he’d seen. Rhys couldn’t help himself, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest.

“Keeping watch?”

She turned her head to look, those starry blue eyes narrowing. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

“Says who?”

“Says me,” she replied, causing Rhys to take a step into the candle lit, chilly room.

“Oh, but you seem like such fine company,” he crooned, holding her gaze. “Maybe you could give me a tour—”

“I’ll leave that to Nesta,” Feyre snapped. It was a dismissal given she turned back to looking out at the city and any rational man would have turned around and left.

But Rhys was famously stupid, if his cousin Mor was to be believed so he came closer, desperate for anything to say to her. He was a fool to have any interest in this woman at all, to want a moment of her time when he’d come here to betray her.

“Why are you here?” she asked when Rhys couldn’t think of anything eloquent to say.

“I’m looking for a wife, darling,” he heard himself say. Heart thudding, Rhys recalled telling his advisors not a week earlier he had no interest in a wife and to stop pushing him on it. What absurdity to say it while looking at her, knowing damn well she wasn’t for the likes of him.

He barely knew her at all.

“It's strange how many men suddenly find themselves desperate to be married,” Feyre commented, swinging her legs over the edge of the window before righting herself. “We came of age years ago. Surely you’re not interested in women as old as we are.”

“You think me so shallow? I like a conversation partner—”

“You don’t worry we’ve been ruined?”

Oh, what man touched her he wondered? What man would Rhys have to murder? The urge washed over him stronger than any other emotion he’d felt in recent months. It wasn’t that she had potentially been with another man but the defiant way she asked him if that somehow diminished her worth.

“A lot of things keep me awake at night, Feyre darling,” Rhys purred, taking a measured step toward the princess. “Your activities in the bedroom are not one of them.”

“That’s good, given you’re here to court my sister.”

“I’m here for the princess of the North. You are a princess, are you not?”

“I am a princess, I live in the North,” she agreed, those eyes of hers flashing. And Rhys knew whatever words came out of her mouth next were about to wreck him. His whole body went tight at the prospect.

“And I will never be your wife,” she added with that same, light tone. “I am not interested in a husband, especially one who looks like he lies as easily as he breathes.”

Rhys flashed a smile. He wanted her. What a revelation. “We’ll see,” he replied as she sauntered past him, shouldering her bow with ease.

Feyre only shook her head, eyes rolling upward in her skull. “That wasn’t a challenge. You repulse me.”

Rhys only laughed.

They’d see about that, too.

#im gonna upload on a tues/thurs schedule until its done (i only have 5 chapters written)#elucien #feysand #nessian #DID YOU KNOW IT WAS ME OR WAS I SUBTLE?

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happyhauntt · 2 months

Text

and i am coming home to you — nikolai lantsov.

series masterlist | writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: there are some things that cannot be saved. nikolai swears she won't be one of them.

─── pairing: nikolai lantsov & anya kamenev (original character.)

─── warnings: serious angst, pre-established relationship, descriptions of injuries, blood and torture, oc was held as a prisoner of war, allusions to ravka's war with shu han, suicidal thoughts if you squint. trauma. fluff & romance but in an angsty way. nikolai is so in love and so am i.

─── word count: 2.5k.

There’s a soft, dusky twilight bleeding in through the window. The last few seconds before the sun goes down, and the shadows stretch like yearning fingers out of all the cracks and crevices.

Anya used to love the sunset. Used to lay in her bedroll beneath the trees and wait for the world to go quiet. All the colour would bleed away until the blue and black and stars were the only witnesses left.

She loved the sunset until one day, the darkness came and never left. It settled over her like a second skin, and that once-familiar comfort became something she feared she’d never shake off. She feared she would die there, in the dark.

Once or twice, she even wished for it.

The dark comes calling again, now. It no longer feels like an old friend. The light fades from the window, cloaking the cabin in a strange half-dark. The waves crashing against the sides of the ship are a dull roar in the back of her mind. An unwelcome accompaniment to the rest of her terrible thoughts. Her head aches. Her skin burns.

He saved her, but what was left of her to save? What is left of her now but a ghost, a corpse, a pile of skin and bones and blood that can do nothing else but scream and scream and scream?

That's what it feels like. Her body. Her heart. Little more than a carcass left to rot, picked over by crows.

She would love him if she could. A fierceness rests between her lungs, the single spark of life left within her after they stripped her of the rest. This, she'd cradled close, clutched between gnarled, bloody fingers. This is his. This, they couldn't tear from her if they tried.

And they had tried.

The bed rocks beneath her. After so long trapped in a dingy cell, the mattress should feel like the height of luxury, stuffed with goose feathers and lined with linen, but it all feels like stone. She tastes blood in her mouth, and she doesn’t know if it’s her own. The silk sheets ghost over her flesh, feeling sharp as razor blades.

Anya never learned to love her cage, but she doesn’t trust freedom, either. Not yet.

It's not that he's the reason she lived. He isn't her reason to keep breathing. Anya Kamenev is her father's daughter, and has endured untold horrors, and if there is one certainty in the world, it is that she is not weak. She survived for herself, for her parents, for her country. She wanted to be home again. The trees blossoming in the summertime, fresh ripe fruit on her tongue, winter air that smells like snow.

She wouldn't die like this. Not at their hands. Anya would go quietly in her bed at a ripe old age, surrounded by people who loved her. Or she'd go to her knees on a battlefield, still screaming as the bullets rip her wide open, and with her last breath, she'd take them down too.

Not like this. Not in a dark laboratory, or a torture chamber. Not at their hands. Anya is stubborn. She'd bleed green if someone told her she was wrong. She'd make it true.

But he loves her. He loves her, and that is everything. He’d appeared before her like a vision sent by the Saints, like something holy in a place she knows no god would ever touch. Like a miracle. On the bad days, his love is blossom trees and fresh fruit and winter air combined. He has held her hand through darkness, guided her through battle, and even when he left for his apprenticeship, he'd kissed her like it was a promise.

They'd taken everything else. Broken her bones and slashed her skin. Wrought her apart to scratch at her soul. She'll bear the scars for the rest of her life, long after the wounds are healed. Her body will never be the same. Her mind may never recover.

But this wasn't hers to give up. This is his. Loving him had been a candle in the darkness. A reminder that she was human still. A reminder that even in the blackest night, dawn will come again.

But now, lying alone in his bed in a dim cabin, Anya grows restless. The mind is a strange thing, and something about this safety feels foreign to her. There are voices in the walls. The shadows have eyes. The ship lurches in the waves and she swears there is a hand right there, reaching out—

She's on her feet before she realises what she's doing. She never was a girl built to run — her instinct has always been to stay, to fight — but this is different, and blood doesn’t always feel like blood when you touch it.

Her knee buckles beneath her the moment she puts weight on it. A strangled shriek escapes her lips as pain streaks through her like lightning. The cabin door slams open, and Nikolai appears. His tailored-red hair glows in the candlelight, a halo of bronze. His face is still different, crooked nose and freckles and green eyes, but he will never be unfamiliar to her.

He crosses the room in two strides and falls to his knees beside Anya. His teal overcoat has been abandoned, and what remains is a loose white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, still speckled with her blood. Her stomach twists at the sight of it as his hands find her shoulders. Something solid, finally; her guiding light once more.

The chill that had stolen over her body vanishes where he touches her, and Anya leans into him heavily, her face pressed into the warmth of his shoulder. An agonising moan rises up within her, but she holds her breath. She bites her tongue so hard it bleeds.

"You shouldn't be up, love." His voice is still the same soothing cadence in her ear. One hand brushes through ragged, tangled girls. It seems someone tried to brush her hair while she was unconscious; bathed the worst of the blood away, changed her into fresh clothes, but the scent of iron still lingers on her skin. His fingers catch in a knot, but the sharp spike of pain on her scalp goes unnoticed. The rest of her is screaming too loudly.

"I cannot be in that bed any longer." Anya shakes her head, once, and breathes in the salt-and-cedar scent of him. Hands outstretched, clawing blindly, she grasps him tightly and swears she'll never let go again. "I cannot be here."

How long had the Shu held her? How many days have passed since they killed the last member of her unit, since his cries grew too quiet and she'd been left alone with her worst nightmares? Had anyone notified her parents? What will they say, when they learn the truth? When they discover their worst fear has come to pass, and their darling daughter was tortured for being Grisha?

"You cannot be anywhere else, Nastya," says Nikolai. He sounds like aching. His lips brush against her temple as he speaks, voice soft as silk. His hands are gentle, too, as he scoops her up from the floor and settles her back onto the bed. She holds herself stiffly, choking back another scream as her knee jostles and jerks.

He winces as if every choked-off cry is a blade through his heart. He murmurs sweet apologies as he readjusts the pillows and perches on the bed beside her, close enough to touch, wary of disturbing her leg any further. His hands linger on hers. The tips of his fingers trace light patterns over the inside of her wrist.

For a moment, nothing has changed.

"Do you need anything, Captain?" The voice in the doorway is a little startling, and for a second Anya is back in that cell. She stiffens as the woman watches them both, a soft frown toying at her mouth. Golden eyes shine with pity.

Nikolai rolls his lips together for a moment. "Perhaps some water, please, Tamar." The woman nods, and tugs the door closed behind her as she departs, leaving the pair wrapped in stony silence.

Nikolai's eyes trail over Anya, searching, inspecting her injuries as if committing every scar to memory. He cannot count how many times he has done this since he found her. Sitting on the bed just like this, close enough to feel the warmth of her, counting each breath as if they might be her last. His eyes harden at the bruises on her throat, the gash across her cheek. Sweeping lower, his gaze settles on her knee again. He swallows roughly. Darkness sweeps over him like a burial shroud.

The skin of Anya's leg is mottled, black and yellow and purple, a medley of half-healed bruises intermingled with fresh ones. They hurt her. They broke her. And for the first time since he left Ravka, anticipating a bright and shining future filled with adventure, Nikolai is drowning in regret.

"Tolya did his best, but he's not a healer." His throat feels tight, like there's smoke in his lungs. Her skin is littered with newly-pink scars and stitched-up wounds. Her leg is the worst of it. Nikolai doesn't recall seeing injuries like this, even in the army. "We'll get you healers when we dock. The best healers. They'll be able to help with the rest of it. They'll be able to—"

"Fix me?" Anya sounds hollow. His eyes snap to hers, and he finds someone staring back at him, but it isn't Anya. It isn't the girl he fell in love with. Somewhere within, she might be hiding, but here and now, he's faced with a ghost. "I lost count of how many times they broke it. Sometimes they'd drag a healer in to mend the bone, and then... snap. Other times they'd just leave it. There are some things that can't be fixed if you break them enough."

A rough shake of his head. His heart sits like lead in his chest. "We'll fix it. You'll be good as new in no time, Nastya, I promise you."

Silence falls over them for a moment, filled with nothing but crashing waves and crackling candles. His fingers keep drawing circles over her wrist, and her pulse flutters gently beneath his touch. Her hands remain in her lap, pale and thin.

"How long was I gone?"

He doesn't need to ask what she means by that. His heart squeezes. "Six weeks, we think. They reported you missing-in-action when your unit didn't reach the checkpoint."

Nausea rises like a tidal wave in Anya’s throat. Six weeks? Every horrible moment had felt like an eternity, and yet she never believed, never could have guessed it had been that long.

"Sturmhond came to find me. Why?"

An old fury lashes through him, one that had only settled when he laid eyes on her, half-dead in that dingy cell. Fingers curl into trembling fists as that anger rises again, unbidden, but not at her. Never at her. His jaw ticks at the memory. "Command thought attempting a rescue would be too... risky." He spits the word through gritted teeth. The Saints only know what he’ll do the moment he gets his hands on the First Army General responsible for that decision. "They couldn't prove you were in Shu Han, and crossing the border to rescue you would have risked an international incident."

A necessary sacrifice. Collateral damage. A most unfortunate loss. That's what the bulletin had read, when he finally received it. Sturmhond kept up-to-date on Ravka, its military engagements, its economy. When he'd docked in Os Kervo eleven days ago and sent the twins out for supplies and information, the last thing he expected to hear was that a scouting group had gone missing near the Shu Han border.

His last correspondence with Anya had mentioned that she was being deployed there, that she'd been tasked with leading a reconnaissance mission with the aim of finding new ways around the Fold. It had only taken a little digging to discover the names of the personnel who'd gone missing.

He sees Lieutenant Colonel Anya Kamenev: MISSING IN ACTION every time he closes his eyes. It might be seared onto his brain forever.

Anya’s eyes fall closed. Her jaw is tight. With pain or anger, he cannot tell. It was a sound tactical decision, she thinks. She cannot blame them for that. She might even have made the same call.

But her leg screams at her. Nikolai's hand squeezes her own. Your country abandoned you. The words ring through her mind like a death knell.

"You disagreed with their decision?"

That familiar crooked grin slips over his face. He almost looks like a boy again, and not the man who loves her, made world-weary by the things he’s seen. They could be home again. It almost makes her cry. "Ravka was concerned about tensions with Shu Han. Nikolai Lantsov was unable to risk an international incident. Sturmhond had no such concerns."

A ghost of a smile. His heart twinges at the sight of it. "Your letters never mentioned why you chose the name Sturmhond."

"I'll tell you some other time, darling. It's quite the tale." He leans and kisses her forehead, lingering a few long moments just to breathe her in, feel the warmth of her skin beneath his lips.

She'd been so pale when he found her. So cold. He thought he'd been too late. Every moment of the past eleven days had been agony as they docked in Shu Han and scouted out any scrap of intel they could find about Ravkan prisoners of war.

"We'll dock soon. I sent word ahead to the generals, to let them know you've been liberated. I'll take you home."

Home. A long journey around the Fold, most likely through Fjerdan territory, and then a trek up to Balakirev, and yet— A whimper escapes, almost too quiet to hear. Home. She thought she'd never see it again.

"They'll want to question me, though." The thought of interviews, of recounting every detail of her torture, of having to admit that she's Grisha, that they killed the rest of her unit but spared her for experimentation, it all makes her sick.

Nikolai shakes his head. His eyes are steel. "If they want to try, they'll have to go through me. Now sleep, love. Rest. I'll be right here."

When sleep comes for her, finally, it does not come with those long, yearning fingers. Anya fears she will never love a sunset again, nor wish for the blissful peace of the night. But Nikolai lies down beside her, wraps her up in warm, solid arms, his chest beneath her head. She hears him breathing in her ear, a slow and steady rhythm, though she knows he isn’t sleeping.

He’ll stay awake the whole night, to keep her demons at bay.

#* chapter update.#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov oc #nikolai lantsov fanfic #shadow and bone oc #shadow and bone fanfic #nikolai lantsov x reader #grishaverse #six of crows fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #* fic: gold rush.

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